The Rephaim: Burn Part 3

'But why the island?'

Rafa doesn't take his eyes from me. 'You were twitchy. I wanted to check you weren't going to damage the first tourist who hit on you.'

'And then what, repeat your offer to distract me?'

'Would your answer have changed without an audience?'

'You wouldn't offer without an audience. That's the whole point, isn't it? To get a reaction?'

His eyes drop to my lips. 'There's no audience now.'

I try to read him. For once, I can't. I feel a flush creep up my neck. Get a grip. It's Rafa.

I push past him. 'I don't know what this is, but it's not helping.' I walk into the bathroom. I wet a face washer, dab at my crusty hair. The steam in here smells of apples. It throws me further off-kilter. I don't know if it's the tension between Jude and Nathaniel and knowing where it might lead, or the fact I was bleeding out on a beach two hours ago, but I'm off balance. Undone.

'You took on three Gatekeepers on your own.' Rafa is behind me now, watching in the mirror. 'That's a whole new level of aggression, even for you.'

'Fine. Get dressed and we'll go a few rounds.'

'I don't want to spar with you.' Rafa drags his fingers through his hair, looks away for a second. When his eyes meet mine again in the reflection, they're dark, serious. 'I thought you were going to die tonight. Do you know what went through my head?'

'Same as usual, right? Nothing.' I'm trying to keep the mood light, but I'm warm in places that haven't felt heat for a long time. I turn around and he's barely centimetres from me. I should move away. Palm him in the chest. Headb.u.t.t him. I don't do any of those things.

'That's right,' he says quietly. 'Nothing. I was about to lose you and I couldn't form a coherent thought.'

I lean back against the sink. 'That's a good line, Rafa.'

'It's not a line.'

'What do you call it, then?'

'An attempt to drop the bulls.h.i.+t between us.' I can see the pulse in his throat.

'And do what?'

He waits, and when I don't push him away, he moves even closer. Our hips touch. I feel the heat of him. He rests his hands either side of me on the sink. 'Don't'-his lips are almost on mine-'hit me.'

The kiss is soft, tender in a way that surprises me so completely I don't even think about it. I just respond. The kiss instantly deepens, but he doesn't take his hands from the sink. For the moment I'm distracted enough by his lips and tongue. I'm losing myself and he's barely touched me. Is this what I want? Is Rafa what I want?

His hand slips under my s.h.i.+rt. His fingers climb my back and then trace a light path down my spine. I s.h.i.+ver with pleasure. I'm still kissing him. He wraps his free arm around me and I let him lift me onto the vanity, position himself between my thighs. My body thrums with want and need. Heat everywhere.

He crushes me against him, fingers in my hair now, cradling my head against the force of his lips. I match him for intensity, getting a grip on his towel and pulling him closer. I'm struggling for breath, but I'm not breaking contact first. Rafa finally drags his lips from mine. He kisses my throat, his breath hot. Ragged. He unhooks my bra with one hand. I tug on his towel, let it drop to the floor. Run my hands over his bare hips and the muscle of his backside.

'Gabe...' His voice is raw. Our hearts thump together, racing each other.

'The door,' I manage.

His mouth covers mine again and I feel the vortex. I let him take me across the room. The sensation of kissing though the s.h.i.+ft is obscenely intimate, deepening every sensation as the maelstrom tears and compresses us. I materialise with my back against the door, legs tight around him. He flicks the lock with one hand and presses into me, kissing me harder.

I'm lost in a storm of pleasure and wanting. I pull at my t-s.h.i.+rt and we break apart so I can drag it over my head. He waits for a beat, breathing fast. And then his fingers find the b.u.t.ton on my jeans. My zip slides down.

Our lips crush together, more urgent now. I loosen my legs from his hips and drop to the floor so I can step out of my boots. Rafa pulls my jeans over my hips along with my underwear, stopping to kiss my b.r.e.a.s.t.s and my hipbone on the way. I kick my clothes away and Rafa lifts me against the door again and in a single, a.s.sured movement he's part of me. We pause for a second, share a moment of astonishment. Chests rising and falling, checking ourselves.

Rafa doesn't hesitate when I pull us back into the vortex. The sensation is exquisite. I take us across the room, pinpoint our arrival so that his legs strike the bed and he has to topple backwards onto the mattress.

Rafa smiles against my lips as he steadies himself. 'What a surprise,' he whispers. 'You want to be on top.'

He flips me around so fast I'm almost not ready for it. But as soon as I hit the mattress I tighten my legs and use his momentum to roll him onto his back. It's almost like sparring. I straddle him, triumphant. His hands are on my hips. As he calculates his next move, I start to push against him. He closes his eyes, slowly, guides me with his hands. 'Unfair tactic.'

'Why?' I ask, trying not to lose myself too quickly. 'You think I might be better than you at this, too?'

Rafa smiles, dirty and s.e.xy. 'We'll see who lasts longer.' He pushes himself up into a sitting position and wraps my legs around his hips. And then he runs his tongue up the side of my neck and grazes his teeth over my earlobe, arms tight around me.

'You can't tell anyone about this,' I whisper, pressing my cheek against his hair, want and need building, hips moving with purpose. 'And I'm not moaning.'

He laughs and it reverberates through every part of me. 'We'll see.'

AVOIDANCE.

'Were you trying to get yourself killed?'

Jude's voice drags me out of the blackness. I keep my back to him while I surface. The morning light is subdued, not yet fully awake either. Pieces from last night fall back into place.

Oh. I bury my face in the pillow, try to focus. How much does Jude know?

'What happened to respecting my privacy?' I mutter.

'f.u.c.k your privacy. You almost died last night.'

That answers two of three pressing questions: Jude has spoken to Rafa, and he knows what really happened on the beach. But what about afterwards? The memory washes over me again. The heat, the urgency. What was I thinking? My fingers tighten on the corner of the pillow. I close my eyes and try to settle my poker face. It takes a few seconds.

'Why would you go after them on your own? Is this about my fight with Nathaniel?'

I don't answer and I hear him take a slow breath, like he's struggling to keep his temper. And then: 'How could you drop your guard like that?'

I roll over and face him. He's next to the bed, hands resting on his hips. Bloodshot eyes and stub-bled cheeks. Behind him, George Grie's River Styx ferry hangs on the wall, ominous in the dull light. Its black and grey sky seems almost cheery compared to my brother. I try to read his mood. A sense of distance. About me or Nathaniel? I rub my cheek on my shoulder and catch a hint of sandalwood. Heat flares in inappropriate places. I glance away, guilty. But Jude can't know about Rafa and me: he'd be acting weirder than this if he did.

'I needed a fight,' I say. 'In hindsight, I picked the wrong one.' I sit up too fast and the room does a quick lap around me. Jude takes my elbow to steady me. He sits down and I can't help but lean into him as the mattress takes his weight. He smells of lime and tequila and the sea.

'I feel like an idiot.'

'It was an idiotic thing to do,' he says, but the anger's mostly gone now. 'You really scared the h.e.l.l out of Rafa.'

Warmth creeps up my neck. 'What makes you say that?'

'I could hear it in his voice.' Jude sits back so he can see me properly. 'Why didn't you call me from the infirmary? Why did I have to wait until this morning to hear about it from him?'

'I didn't want to disturb your choice of recreational release.' I gesture to his bloodshot eyes-and register that Rafa's only just phoned him. It's the only reason Jude's back from whatever bar he was in.

'Gabe.'

'I was embarra.s.sed, all right?' I'm not sure if I'm talking about the fight on the beach or what happened afterwards. Maybe both.

'No s.h.i.+t.'

I pluck at his s.h.i.+rt-the same one he had on last time I saw him. 'Not all of us have the foresight to stay out all night drinking ourselves into oblivion.'

'Beats lying in bed staring at the ceiling.'

I bring my knees to my chest, wrap my arms around them. 'Are you going to provoke Nathaniel again today?'

'Don't change the subject.'

'Same subject-forays into recklessness. Mine's done and dusted, let's talk about yours.'

His eyebrows twitch up. 'You think I'm being reckless?'

'In letting Mya drive the agenda? Absolutely.'

Jude lets out a loud sigh. 'This again? She mightn't have been here for as long as us but she's allowed an opinion, Gabe.'

'And what is her opinion?'

'The same as yours: that Nathaniel's kept things from us and it's time to come clean. At the very least, tell us which archangel ordered him to track us all down as babies and train us up to be the Garrison's reserve force. Come on, we've been talking about this stuff for years, all of us.'

'Yeah, in hushed tones over bottles of wine, not getting in Nathaniel's face about it. And don't tell me her opinion is the same as mine. She wouldn't know mine-she's never asked for it.'

'I know how you think, and I'm telling you she's on the same page as us.'

I press my lips together. There's no point arguing with him about Mya. He can't see how destructive she is. She doesn't care about learning the truth: all she wants is chaos. Ever since she found out it would take decades before she earned the right to stand for the Council of the Five.

'Is this about Daniel? Are you worried he's going to think less of you?'

I stare at my brother. 'No, it's not about Daniel. f.u.c.k, give me some credit.'

'Why? You're not giving me any.'

I feel the anger tightening my chest, shortening my breath. 'Jude, we could have confronted Nathaniel a thousand times over the last century and we didn't. Why? Because we didn't want to risk everything here unless we had to. I don't think Mya's need for rebellion is a good enough reason for a sudden change of heart.'

For all our baggage, for all our desire to tell the rest of the Rephaim what happened to our mother-what most likely happened to theirs-we've never done it. Partly because it will rip the place apart. And partly because we've dug ourselves a hole. We know keeping a secret this big is almost as bad as the secret itself.

I pause. 'You haven't told her about Jason, have you?'

He looks at me as if I've slapped him and I immediately regret asking. Of course he hasn't. Even he knows there's no way Mya could keep that bit of information to herself.

'Sorry,' I say, and I mean it.

Jude breathes in deeply through his nose. We sit in silence for a good minute.

'I wish I knew what happened to him.' He says it quietly. It still grates on him that our cousin hid from us over a century ago and hasn't once reached out to see if we're okay.

'Maybe he's dead. That'd be easier to forgive than him disappearing because he panicked we might tell Nathaniel he exists.'

Jude strangles a laugh. 's.h.i.+t, Gabe, you can be cold sometimes.'

I shrug. He knows I'm a realist.

The light falling through my window is brighter now. Jude stands up, rubs his eyes. 'You want to grab breakfast?'

I think about running into Rafa in the commissary, feel a strange sensation in my stomach. 'I'll get something later.' I reach up above my bed to the sword rack, lift down the closest blade. I slide it out of the saya, check the line in a patch of sunlight on my bed, pretend that's all I'm thinking about. 'I lost a perfectly good sword last night. I need to get this one into shape before I do much else today.'

'Okay. I'll bring you something to eat.'

'Thanks.'

We share a weary smile. No matter how often we disagree-how much we p.i.s.s each other off-we always find a way to be okay. The door clicks shut as he leaves and I flop back onto my pillow, throw my arm across my face.

I hooked up with Rafa.

What was I thinking? What if everyone finds out? But even as I wrestle with the implications, I can't shut out the memory of him. The contours of his body. The a.s.surance in his touch. How he buried his face in my neck and said my name as he shuddered. It completely destroyed my self-control. But I didn't make a sound. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction-not after all those years of being the punchline to his favourite joke.

But oh my G.o.d...

I touch my lips, remember his crushed against them. My skin is raw from his stubble, my hair mussed from his fingers. I catch another trace of sandalwood and the ache sets in without warning.

I pull a pillow over my face. G.o.d help me.

I'm crus.h.i.+ng on Rafa.

STING IN THE TAIL.

Usually when I need to clear my head, I run the mountain trail that snakes up from the southern wall of the Sanctuary. But I really do need to get my back-up katana into shape, so I'm set up under the canopy of Nathaniel's ancient apple tree, the one trying to punch its way through the Sanctuary walls. It's early autumn, and the tree is heavy with leaves and waxy fruit. Patches of sunlight filter through, casting abstract patterns on the gra.s.s. It's quiet, peaceful. Perfect.

To sharpen a katana properly takes weeks of concentrated effort-I'd never have the patience for it-but a few hours of working a blade over a whetstone is enough to freshen the steel and usually enough to clear out the cobwebs.

Not today.

I've been sitting here on my mat for half an hour and I haven't progressed beyond preparing the whetstone. I keep getting lost in random fantasies involving Rafa on the training mats. We're sparring, alone, and when I pin him- 'What are you smirking about?'

Daisy's standing in the doorway to the scriptorium, dressed in black leggings and training singlet. I don't know how long she's been watching me but I hope she doesn't see the heat in my cheeks. I should slap myself. I'm blus.h.i.+ng over Rafa.

'Nothing.' I reach for my sword, check the line even though I haven't started working the steel yet.

Daisy crosses the courtyard, picks a low-hanging apple on her way. She cradles it under her nose and takes a deep breath. 'New season apples. Finally.' She sits cross-legged on the ground opposite me, the bucket of water between us. 'I hear you had some excitement last night.'

I run the blade over the whetstone, focus on keeping the action smooth and steady. 'Uh huh.'

'As did Rafa.'