Falling for Anthony

Chapter Eleven

Emily tipped the fourth cup of the nosferatu's blood to Colin's lips, watching in awe as his body regained its previous weight with each drink, as his hair thickened and seemed to grow. His skin paled slightly and took on a subtle luster, like light on a freshly washed face.

"This is revolting," Lilith said as she squeezed the nosferatu's body with manic glee, catching the last bit of blood in a basin on the floor.

Emily agreed, but Colin hadn't had the strength to feed himself. She and Anthony had been feeding him alternate cups. He sat quietly next to her now, his hand on her thigh, his expression pensive.

"He's rather attractive, isn't he?" Lilith set the basin on the bed, watching as Colin slowly drained the last of the blood from the cup. "Though I do wish he had killed you when I locked you in here with him."

Emily choked on a laugh. Robert was sleeping soundly in his bed, her brother was going to live, and the nosferatu was dead. Nothing Lilith said or did now could pierce her happiness. "I wish I could say I'm sorry, but I'm not." She dipped the cup in the basin to refill it. "Where is Mrs. Kemble?"

Lilith made a disgusted noise. "At this moment, likely changing her grandchild's shit-filled nappy."

Emily smiled softly to herself. "And Aggie? The upstairs maid?"

"I had no idea who the hell you were speaking of, so I lied." Lilith shifted her gaze from Colin to Emily. "You should have been easier to manipulate, but aside from the nightmares, you resisted most of my suggestions. It's as if you are tainted with goodness. Both of you. I don't like it, and it makes me want to vomit," she said conversationally.

"You should leave," Anthony suggested, his voice hard with dislike.

"I should," Lilith agreed. "But then you would have to leave, and you don't really want that, do you?"

His gaze locked with Emily's. The soft glow of his blue eyes contained a wealth of emotion, and he didn't need to answer Lilith's question.

Emily's chest burned, but she was saved from tears as Colin jerked upright and blinked at them.

His eyes widened in horror when he saw Anthony.

"Good God, Ramsdell! Are you in your shirtsleeves? And what sadistic butcher cut your hair?"

Emily dissolved in laughter.

She found Anthony in her room, staring at her bed.

He attempted a smile when she slipped her arms around his waist, but she could see how half-hearted it was.

"He has decided that despite the unlikelihood of a vampire being accepted in London's fashionable drawing rooms, he will enjoy being immortal." She laid her head against his chest, listened to the beating of his heart. "Apparently, the prospect of a future sans inevitable baldness convinced him. Henry was already becoming quite thin on top, if you remember, and my grandfather's skull could have given the nosferatu a fright."

He shook with laughter and quickly kissed her temple.

"Let me see your wings," she said.

He sighed and focused, and she felt them erupt seamlessly through the back of his shirt. Stepping out of his embrace to walk around him, she trailed her hands along the sturdy, downy frame that rose from his shoulder blades to the wings' apex, feeling them quiver under her fingers.

"Take off your shirt."

It vanished, and she skimmed her fingers the length of his spine, his naked skin golden in the candlelight. His muscles were taut, the hands by his sides clenched into fists. She pressed her breasts against his back, nestled between his wings, and licked his nape. Her arms slid under his, her hands running over his chest and stomach, tracing the ridges of muscle with gentle fingers.

"Have I told you how beautiful you are?" she said.

His laugh was strangled by his arousal, and he nodded his head. "Twice."

She smiled against his skin, remembering, and quickly slid under feathers and flesh to face him again. Her fingers pulled at the front of his breeches as her mouth trailed wet kisses over his jaw, neck, and chest. Her tongue swirled around his flat nipple, her teeth nipped the small bud, and she dropped to her knees.

She felt him watching her as she drew his rigid erection from its confines and laid its pulsating length against her cheek.

His breath sucked in sharply between his teeth, and she glanced up, saw his face harsh with desire, his eyes heavy-lidded. His voice was rough, sensual, gravel and silk. "Is this when you'll make me do whatever you want?"

She held his gaze. "Yes." She whispered the word against the sensitive tip of him, lingered over it in a wet, suckling kiss.

His skin tightened across his cheekbones, and she wanted to take away the despair that warred with his arousal. "What will you make me do?"

Stay, she thought, but he could not give her that. To ask would only cause him pain, that the one thing she wanted he could not offer; it was not his choice. To voice it would be selfish, unbearable.

"Let me fly with you," she said instead, and licked the creamy drop of moisture that beaded on the taut crown. "I want to feel what you do. When I think of you, I want to be able to imagine myself with you." She traced the veins that lined his cock with her tongue, drew the heavy sac beneath into her mouth, and suckled with soft pressure.

"Emily," he breathed, and his fingers threaded into her hair. He guided her over him again and groaned in tortured bliss as her tongue stroked the sensitive underside of his shaft.

The sounds of his pleasure pulled her nipples tight and pooled beneath her womb with liquid heat. She pushed the tip of her tongue into the weeping slit to catch his flavor and felt the melting ache within her. His hips jerked as her tongue slid around the smooth head, and he thrust against her mouth. She took him deep and stroked with her lips and hands, lingering at the top with each suckling pull.

He tensed and tried to back away, but she insisted with her lips and teeth and tongue. She held him against her and drank him in and then gently licked the lingering seed away.

His chest heaved with short, shuddering gasps. She leaned in against him, wrapped her arms around his hips, and smoothed her palms over the small of his back. Their skin was slick with perspiration, her core swollen and hot with need.

"And then bring me back here, bend me over that bed, and tup me like a footman," she said, and held him to her as he laughed.

The cold night air stung her cheeks, numbed her nose, and brought tears that streamed like fire down her face.

It was glorious, she thought.

She'd screamed when they'd plummeted from her window, but it had turned to delighted laughter as they dipped and then soared. Each powerful beat of his wings took them farther, and they went over the Peaks faster than she could have dreamed possible, the moonlight shaping the stone-lined fields below into dark squares and rectangles.

How could anyone give this up? she marveled and knew that when the one hundred years was completed he would not Fall or Ascend but continue on as a Guardian. The thought brought her no pain, only a deep sense of awe and wonder and loss.

Though the wind took her words, she knew he heard them. "Will you watch after Colin?"

He tightened the cradle of his arms and banked toward the waxing moon. "Yes. And your grandchildren."

She touched her belly. "Do you think—"

He stopped her hopeful words with a kiss before lifting his head, aiming for home.

An ache spread through her at that wordless denial, but the tears that slipped from her eyes were only from the cold. The others, the ones that were hot and burned… those were for later.

"They told me you were here," Hugh said.

Anthony briefly nodded his acknowledgment, never taking his eyes from the parchment in front of him.

The muscles in the back of his neck tensed as Hugh silently looked over his shoulder. "I do not remember you showing interest in the Scrolls before," he observed.

Anthony finished reading the one in his hands before answering. "I spent my life in study. I did not want to repeat the process in my death." A blooming frustration started in his stomach, but he tamped it down. Yet another scroll without the answer he sought—and though he could search forever, he did not have that long to find it. It had already been a month.

It would help if I knew what to look for, he thought bleakly.

"So what brings you to the Archives now?" Hugh lifted a roll of parchment from a nearby table. He began tapping it against his opposite hand, and Anthony could not recall a moment when he'd resented his mentor more. "I have been told that when you are not decimating your opponents on the practice field, you are here."

"You should be proud," Anthony said, unable to keep the impatient tone from his voice. He picked up another scroll. "The perfect student."

"Did you promise her you would return?"

Anthony sucked in a breath. He could not erase the image of Emily's pale determination when he'd left. She had smiled and thanked both Guardians with polite gratitude; but he had heard the racing of her heart, saw how her hands had been shaking. Her face had still been flushed with their lovemaking, her lips swollen from their final, desperate kisses.

As his own had been.

"No. I did not want to give her hope if there was none."

"And yet you had already decided to search for a way."

Anthony met Hugh's gaze and held it, unwavering. "Yes. I had no other choice."

Hugh ceased his tapping and tossed the scroll to Anthony. "There is always a choice," he said. "It is a rare man who makes the right one."

Unrolling the scroll, Anthony skimmed its length. Halfway through, he paused, reread carefully, and closed his eyes against a rush of gratitude. "Thank you."

Hugh's expression didn't change. "You would have come across it. Eventually."

Anthony pushed away from the table with a burst of energy. He paused and turned. "I made a promise to Emily that I would look after Colin when she could no longer do it."

"And her grandchildren. I will," Hugh said. "For as long as I can."

My grandchildren. The overwhelming pleasure that swept through him at the thought almost caused him to miss the hesitation that crossed Hugh's features.

"What is it?"

"Lilith said you were tainted—both you and Emily." He glanced down at Anthony's hand. "And although Michael told me something was amiss, I did not know what it was until I remembered that the sword shed your blood. It must have left some of its power within you—the power that favors humanity, that rejects the divine and demonic. Lilith could not influence Emily as she wanted; you could not heal without pain and still cannot change from your human form." He gestured around them, at the massive inventory of scrolls and books. "You should have been able to read through most of this in the month you've been here."

"What does it mean?" Anthony asked guardedly.

"Once you have Fallen, it should not make a difference to you," Hugh said. "But I do not know what the effect will be on a vampire."

"The rules might not apply to Colin." Anthony nodded in understanding but couldn't let that uncertainty spoil his newfound hope. He clutched the scroll tighter in his hand. "I'm off to see Michael. Will you join me?"

When Hugh fell into step beside him, Anthony gave him a wry look. "I'm not walking; I'm going to fly there."

Hugh smiled. "Then I will join you."

Anthony materialized his wings and relished the weight of them before saying, "Do you think Michael will resist my leaving?"

"I think he planned it," Hugh said dryly.

"Do you like this one?"

Robert glanced at the rose-colored swatch of fabric and grimaced in honest repugnance, as only a twelve-year-old could do. "No!"

Emily grinned. "I think an all-pink parlor would be simply gorgeous," she said with an exaggerated, dreamy sigh.

"You're a female," Robert said patiently. He pursed his lips at her laughter. "Will you ever tell me how I came to be here from my bed at Eton?"

Emily's laughter died. She did not know if the nosferatu had made him sleep through the entire ordeal to keep him quiet, or if Hugh had removed memory of the creature afterward—and she did not care to know. It was enough that Robert would not have the nightmares she'd once suffered.

"No," she said.

"You told the messenger who arrived with the express that you had mistaken the date Michaelmas half ended and collected me too early," he pressed.

"I did." She gave him a quelling look and conceded, "I will tell you one day, Robert. Not today."

His sullen pout was interrupted by Mrs. Kemble's breathless entrance into the room. Her face was pale, her eyes wide.

"Dr. Anthony Ramsdell here to see you, ma'am."

Emily's heart twisted, and she squashed the hope that rose. Lilith could not be this cruel, could she? Would the demon pose as Anthony to cause Emily more pain?

She shook her head at her stupidity and wrestled for control of her emotions. Yes, of course Lilith would.

"I thought he was killed?" Robert said.

"Apparently not. It is not unheard of for a fallen soldier to be misidentified," Emily said mildly. "Why don't you run upstairs and see if your uncle has woken."

Robert frowned but jumped up from the sofa and scampered from the room, speeding past Anthony with a mumbled "Pardon."

He stood at the door, heartbreakingly beautiful, his hair tousled and his blue eyes seeming to devour her from a distance.

"Thank you, Mrs. Kemble. That will be all for now."

They were both silent as the housekeeper left. Mindful that Mrs. Kemble likely listened at the door, Emily said with icy quiet, "Is nothing beneath you?"

"In a few moments, you will be." His lopsided grin made her want to believe, his words scored heated furrows in her skin.

She straightened her spine. "Lilith, you cannot expect me to be deceived by you again."

His mouth fell open, and he doubled over and began laughing as hard as she'd ever heard him. The sound made her smile against her will.

When he looked at her again, he wiped tears of mirth from his cheeks and said, "Appearances are not always deceiving, you idiot."

She threaded her fingers together to stop their shaking. "How?" The question left her lips of its own volition, and she hated that betrayal of the hope that lingered within her. But he sounded so like Anthony; Lilith had never perfected mimicry of Mrs. Kemble as well.

"A Guardian can Fall after his hundred years, as a reward once he has begun service," he said, approaching her with slow, deliberate steps. "I held Michael to the spirit of that rule—I had served, so I had a choice. I made a choice."

Her lips trembled. "Why?" She did not know if she asked Anthony or Lilith.

"Because I had a promise to keep," he said. Crouching in front of her, he lifted her hands from her lap and clasped them in his. They were as warm and strong as she remembered. "And because I love you. I love the softness of your breasts, and the way you shiver against me when I worship them."

Her breath caught on a sob, and he rubbed her knuckles against his cheek. The skin was rough with stubble; before, his jaw had been perfectly smooth.

"I love your navel, the little dip and shadow," he continued. "I love the taste of you. I love the way you give yourself to me, unashamed."

Heat and joy circled, gathered, and twisted deep within her.

His voice broke at her continued silence, and he whispered, "Emily, I can't keep telling you. I am coming undone."

"I want you to become undone," she said, and slid onto her knees next to him. She kissed his lips, his face. "I love you."

"Oh, thank God," he laughed, and dragged her against him. His mouth covered hers and she melted into him, met his passion with delight.

He pulled away, his breath coming in sharp pulls. "I've done all this to come back for you—you must marry me. I come with a supercilious, greedy family and a profession; I have neither title nor holdings. I will likely work long hours, delivering babies and soothing ladies' nerves. I have discovered I have a gift for it, if not a miraculous one any longer."

She laughed. "I come with a vain vampire for a brother and a nephew whom I love like my own son. I have a romantic nature that leads me into trouble. And I think your family might be made to think more agreeably of your profession when we point out that your wife is an earl's daughter and her dowry is very large."

He grinned. "We will make quite a pair, won't we?"

"That's what I told you long ago." She slid her hands to the front of his breeches and thought about the effort it took to lock the door. Then his mouth was on her and she could not think anymore.

Anthony stood at the window and lifted his face to the sun, letting the warmth soak into his skin. Behind him, the bedclothes rustled.

"Has Colin returned?" Emily asked, her voice still heavy with sleep.

His gaze traced the path her brother had taken through the garden. "He came in from the stable just after sunrise." Colin satisfied his hunger with animal blood for now. Anthony thought he did it more for Emily's sake than out of concern for the local maidens' necks.

One local neck in particular had him turning from the window.

Emily lay on the bed, eyeing him with drowsy hunger. "You have still not told me about Caelum," she said, and hid a yawn behind her hand. "I researched the name after you'd left—it is the Latin for Heaven, is it not?"

He smiled, slipping his robe from his shoulders as he walked back toward her. She arched back against the pillows, her gaze appreciative.

"It is like ancient Greece and Arabia melted together, and built of marble," he said, and bent his head to her nipple. "There are domes with minarets that climb into the sky, and columns topped with curling scrollwork." He brushed his lips over the skin of her belly, slid his fingers up the length of her thighs, and buried them in the curls at their apex. "It is all glistening, perfect white."

"And the food?" she asked breathlessly, the sound torn between a moan and a laugh. "Was it milk and honey?"

"I did not eat." His tongue traced the crease of her lips. "I did not sleep, nor did I dream." He slipped inside her, and she clutched at him with a sigh. "Do not be deceived, Emily—this is Heaven."