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But Dante said the Goddess was not in this world. Did that mean She was deaf to prayers from it? She said them anyway.
"It would be a lie, telling them you are okay."
She cracked open eyes that flinched from any light, the pounding in her head increasing. Fortunately, the chamber was dim. No sunlight in the Dark One world, and he'd put out all his torches, so the only light came from the window, that surreal block of flame and gray wasteland. Shadows hid most of his features from her, but the magnetism of his presence was strong enough. He squatted next to the bed.
As she met his gaze, embers in that darkness, she knew. "I'm dying, aren't I?"
He nodded. "But you will be . . . okay. You will regain your strength in your own world. The witch sent me word they are preparing to open the rift. We will go through soon."
There was no triumph in his flat tone, no indication of his thoughts. His feelings were once again too tangled for her to unravel. She groped across the blanket, but he'd withdrawn his touch, moved out of reach. "I thought that was what you wanted."
"It is. But it will not be so easy. The doorway she has allows one through at a time. It has not been used in a long time, and even it suffered some damage during the Mountain Battle."
"So you'll go first, to be sure they let you through, and then I'll come behind you." She shied from the idea of being left alone in this world, even for a second. What if the portal didn't hold? As terrible as this place was, without Dante . . . of course, if that happened, she wouldn't live much longer, would she? But if the Goddess wasn't here, how could her soul find its way home? Would she be trapped here anyway?
He spoke, cutting across her panic. "There will be some trickery. They want you back, but they do not want me there. Her communication left me time for a response. I told them I would be putting a binding on you here that only I can release, and I will do so only after I am safely outside of their influence. Then you will come through."
"Did they promise you safe passage?"
"What is a promise?"
Alexis put effort into the reach this time. She needed to touch him. A lump grew in her throat when he deliberately moved beyond her grasp. Something cold and frightening was inside him, waiting. The predator in him knew he was facing death or battle, and he would not be distracted.
She'd already seen he was far more powerful than Mina likely suspected. The people she loved would be on the other side of that portal, waiting. Her mother. Oh, Goddess, please let Jonah have forbidden her mother to be there. Gentle Anna, almost as defenseless against power like this as Alexis, and her father couldn't survive both of their losses. Everyone knew it.
Dante's fiery gaze flickered like wicked candlelight, telling her he heard her thoughts, but he offered no comfort. The male who'd been inside her body was gone. Instead she was facing the creature who'd survived here for Goddess knew how many decades. Perhaps even centuries, though she suspected it was decades. Something about him seemed younger than the angels she knew who'd reached their first century mark.
She was going to die. This was it, she knew it. So the question was, how would she spend those last minutes? In fear and cowardice, or embracing the destiny the Goddess had given her? She could hate him right now for being willing to sacrifice her for his own freedom, but she'd seen too much here, felt too much from him, even now. While she'd had so much, so many wonderful things, love as vast and deep as the oceans nurturing her, Dante had had none of that.
The male that had been inside her body wasn't gone. He might not be physically within her reach, but his emotions, his desires, they were all still there, only gone dormant behind the formidable weapons he'd use to gain what he wanted, what he'd sought to have all these years. And these might be his last moments as well.
Though tears gathered in her eyes, she swallowed, made her voice steady. "Dante, I do want you to have your freedom. If I die . . . I want you to know that."
"You will not die."
She continued, though she was certain her heart was going to crack open. She struggled between what she needed to say, and the jumble of thoughts rolling through her head. Clara. I wanted to see Clara meet someone and get married. To watch her truly fall in love for the first time. I would have loved to put Pyel's first grandchild in his arms, let him know he'd never be without us, even to the end of time.
"The first thing you should do is go to The Butchart Gardens, near the Todd Inlet, in Canada. You'll see things there you never imagined. In fact"--that ache grew jagged teeth as she thought of how many more times she would have liked to go there--"you'll need to sit down on one of the benches, because it will be overwhelming. It's all going to be overwhelming."
She stopped, wheezing for breath, and the crimson glow disappeared, as if he'd closed his eyes in the dim light, though his voice came through the darkness strongly enough. "Stop talking. Think in your head if you must, but don't use your breath."
She ignored him, because speaking was the only way to keep her thoughts for herself separate from the words she meant for him. "We have lots of sun. I don't know if it's true or not, but supposedly vampires can't be out in the sunlight. So don't go out in full sunlight until you're sure whether it will burn you or not. Maybe the Dark One blood will protect you. If so, you should go to a beach, watch people play volleyball, or just watch the water. Sometimes you'll see dolphins. With your eyesight, you'll probably see merpeople playing under the waves."
A wave of coughing took her then, and a new terror gripped her as her vision grayed, threatening her with unconsciousness. Gritting her teeth, she dragged herself upright. Despite the ringing in her head, her nausea, the fatal weakness she could feel claiming her, she pulled herself across the covers, the rough fabric snagging her scales painfully. She'd follow him across the chamber if she had to.
"Stop this," he ordered. "You weaken yourself unnecessarily."
"No, you do. I want your hand. Stop avoiding my touch."
She wasn't the commanding sort, not by a long shot, and definitely not with him. But she had to have this one thing. He might be heartless enough to withhold it from her, but she was determined to have enough heart for both of them.
Muttering a curse, he erupted into motion, scooping her up and taking her to her back on the bedding. He lay half over her, pressing his bare chest down upon her breasts, his hair falling forward over his shoulder and brushing her lips, her cheek. "There. I am touching you. What is it you want?"
She lifted a hand, spread her fingers out like a starfish. "Your hand," she repeated.
He stared at her, then lifted his hand from beside her head, met her palm to palm. Linking her fingers with his, she noted the slimness of hers next to his callused, strong ones. While he watched, his mouth a hard slash, she felt a tremor in his body.
"You are not going to die," he said. "I will not allow it."
She could feel it in her bones, a creeping tide that couldn't be held back. She didn't know how long she'd been here, but perhaps the things they'd done had weakened her. Perhaps because of her unique mixing of angel and mermaid blood, she had a more fragile constitution than he'd expected. But death was close. She wished she could send one more message to her parents, because if she gave it to Dante, they would never hear it. They wouldn't listen to the male they'd rightly see as her murderer. But with all her many gifts, she knew one thing for certain. He was more than that.
"What is a promise?" he said, and now his other hand was cradling her cheek, the lines of his perfect, handsome face tense, strained.
"It's an oath. When you tell someone you're going to do something, and it's a point of personal honor that you do it. If you don't, it takes something away from yourself." She'd never realized how difficult it was to explain something that didn't exist in the environment of the person asking the question. "Like why you've done all this. You made a promise to yourself, to do everything necessary to win your freedom. You are honoring that promise to yourself."
As he remained silent, she sense
d he was examining her thoughts inside, even as he listened to her words outside. "No," he said at length. "A promise is more than that. As is honor. I sense it. Otherwise it wouldn't be so important. Tell me more. In your thoughts."
Shaking her head, she swallowed, realizing how dry she'd become, scales, throat and skin. But it didn't seem to matter. Staying conscious long enough to speak to him was most important. And to nurture the last thoughts of her life and friends instead of her fear of what would happen to her soul in this place.
"To my father, a promise and honor are things you offer to protect others. You make the world a better place when you honor a promise, not just your own circumstances."
"You seek to talk me out of my goal."
