The Rephaim: Burn Part 24

'Because it's me?'

'Because I've never said it before, and because I mean it. Rafa, the way I felt about you a few hours ago...that hasn't changed. If I'd told you then, would you have believed it?'

His eyes soften at the memory.

'Then believe it now.' I press my hand to his chest, feel his heart thump against my palm through his t-shirt. 'Do you want to add anything, or am I out on this limb alone?'

He guides me closer, his fingers light on my hips. 'How I feel about you scares the h.e.l.l out of me. I've got no counter-moves. No defence. And now you remember everything, I've lost the upper hand.'

'You had the upper hand?'

A short laugh. 'Apparently not.'

We watch each other. See each other. I feel him inhale and exhale under my hand. He touches my jaw, featherlight, and then slides his fingers into my wet hair.

'I'm sorry.' He says it simply, quietly.

'Me too.' I swallow. 'I'm sorry too.'

He brings his face closer. When he hesitates, I meet him halfway. The kiss is slow, tender. I slide my hands under his t-shirt, needing to touch him. He makes that low sound in the back of his throat and heat spikes through me. I love the way our lips fit together, the taste of him. The way he uses his tongue...

I break contact first, but only to drag his t-shirt over his head and toss it on the floor. I step back so I can see him, and I can't help but falter. His torso really is a disaster. The crescent moon Bel carved into his flesh and the violent slash through the middle of it. I brush my fingers over the puckered scar tissue, over other fresh scars, all the work of demon blades. Rage, deep and dark, stirs in the pit of my stomach but I push it aside, focus on the heat of Rafa's skin instead. I kiss the point of the crescent near his collarbone.

Rafa's fingers tighten on my hips. 'What did I say about pity?' His voice is rough.

I straighten and meet his gaze, trail my fingers down his chest and over his abdomen.

'Trust me, Rafa, this isn't pity.' I hook my fingers into the top of his jeans and walk backwards to the bed, tugging at him to follow. His eyes don't leave mine.

I find the b.u.t.ton on his pants, slide down his zip.

He lifts my t-shirt over my head. I finish helping him out of his jeans and low-rise boxers. He peels down my underwear slowly, still not shifting his gaze from my face. And then we stand before each other, naked. It's not like we weren't together a few hours ago, but this feels different. More exposed.

My mouth finds his again, and now there's no hesitation. His response is all heat and wanting, arms circling my waist, lifting me onto the bed. My skin is alight, my breathing already ragged. The fire between us, this urgency...it's not about teasing, or pleasure, or even desire. It's about need. For connection. For forgiveness. I wrap my legs around him, pull him down until he's a part of me. His breath catches and his eyes find mine.

'G.o.d, Gaby...' he rasps, and I love that he still uses that name. That he can see me for who I am now: more Gaby than Gabe.

We move together, watching each other with an intensity that unravels me so totally I can't tell where I end and he begins.

We lose ourselves too quickly.

Afterwards we lie tangled together, pillows scattered around us, catching our breath. I'm warm all over, waiting for the feeling to come back into my legs.

'Unfair,' Rafa says into my hair. 'You're turning me into a seventeen-year-old with no self-control.' His stubble scratches my shoulder. I kiss his ear. He takes his weight on his elbow so he can look at me. 'Give me time to recover and we can go again. Maybe a little slower this time...'

I laugh-he's got more stamina than me-and then my stomach rumbles. Way too loud.

'Gaby, when did you last eat?'

I absently trace a circle on his thigh with my thumb while I try to remember. 'I don't know, a few hours before I went to Iowa? Unless beer counts.'

He sits up, draws me with him. 'I can't compete with an empty stomach. Let's get some food into you.'

I laugh and push him away, reach for my clothes with jelly arms. There's a demon army marching on Pan Beach and the Rephaim are more fragmented than ever. But right now, in this moment, Rafa and I are okay.

Maybe there's hope for all of us yet.

IS IT HAPPY HOUR YET?.

It's like a plague of locusts have been through the kitchen. My pantry and fridge have been emptied. Locusts wouldn't have cleaned up after themselves, though. At least the Rephaim wiped the sink and packed the dishwasher.

'You hungry?' I call out to Rafa as I dig through the freezer.

'I am now.'

I look around to find him pulling up a stool by the kitchen bench, shirtless. Daylight streams through the window onto the benchtop, highlighting every scratch and wine stain. He grins at me and that irrational sense of hope rises again.

I find a couple of blueberry bagels buried behind a frozen chicken and pop them under the grill. The coffee machine is already on, so I make us cappuccinos while we wait. Rafa gets out plates and knives, finds a sc.r.a.p of cream cheese in the fridge. It's the most helpful he's ever been in my kitchen. My kitchen.

I watch the milk froth in the jug, hissing and spitting, think about how many times Maggie and I have prepared meals together in here, and I know it's true: the bungalow is my home. Even now.

'Okay,' Rafa says when I take the stool next to him. 'Now you can give me the full story about last year.'

I push the sugar in his direction and, over bagels and coffee, I tell him everything, from Jude's first phone call to what happened in the forest in Idaho. Rafa listens, making the occasional disparaging remark about Jason-more out of habit than genuine derision-but grows restless when I mention Jude's deal with whoever saved us.

'I wish he'd told me what was going on,' Rafa says, swirling the dregs of his coffee.

I use the tip of my finger and gather up crumbs on my plate. 'What would you have done if he had?'

'Whatever he asked me to.'

'No you wouldn't have.'

'Why not?'

'Because it involved me. Anyway, it would've meant telling you we'd met Jason over a century ago, and that wouldn't have gone down well either.'

He drains his cup, doesn't argue.

I make us another coffee and conversation drifts to the things we've missed over the past decade. I tell him about Brother Ferro wrapping his beloved 1949 Fiat Berlinetta around a tree halfway down the mountain after one gla.s.s too many of grappa. Rafa tells me about Jones taking up skydiving and Seth having a brief fling with a footballer in Manchester. About the Outcasts going to Bolivia to investigate demon activity near a mudslide and spending a week digging out victims instead.

'Mya said Immundi have been turning up in bigger numbers,' I say.

We're outside now, sitting on the front steps of the deck. I've got one leg draped over Rafa's thigh. The sun is on the other side of the house, starting its descent.

'If they're all in league with Zarael and he brings them along...' A chill creeps up my spine. I check the horizon. At least the sky is still cloudless. Someone starts up a lawnmower a few doors down, oblivious to the coming threat.

'We'll be ready.'

'You think everyone will show?'

Rafa leans in and kisses the top of my shoulder. 'What else are they going to do?'

I guess he's feeling hopeful too.

We head to Rick's a little before five. Rafa suggests shifting-no surprise-but I talk him into walking down to the esplanade. I love this time of the day. The sun is starting to dip below the headland and the sky is streaked orange, turning the sea purple and gold. Lorikeets gather in the park, shrieking and squawking in their usual pre-dusk chatter. The smell of burnt sausages carries through the trees; sounds of children playing, dogs barking. It's Monday, but there's always somebody on holidays in Pan Beach.

We're both wearing jeans and boots, our heavy-duty soles loud on the steep road. Occasionally my knuckles brush against Rafa's, and a few times I catch him glancing at me.

'What?'

He gives me a lopsided grin. 'Nothing.'

We're pa.s.sing the shopping centre car park. I nod in the direction of his shack. 'Do you want to round up the stragglers at your place?'

'Nah. Let's just see who turns up at the bar.'

The esplanade is buzzing. Black-clad wait staff are preparing tables for the early sitting, setting cutlery, lighting tea candles in gla.s.ses, straightening chairs. A handful of surfers are out on the water and two stand-up paddle boarders beyond the break are starting to make their way in. We round the bend to Rick's just as the fairy lights come on in the poincianas. It's beautiful and familiar and it makes my heart ache.

Jude, Ez and Zak are at a stainless steel bench under the verandah. They're in front of the window where Maggie and I usually sit to scope the street. The three of them pause mid-conversation to watch Rafa and me approach. Based on the empties between them, they're onto at least their second round. At least they're speaking.

'Neither of you is limping,' Jude says when we reach them. 'I'll take that as a good sign.'

I pull up a stool. 'Yep, all windows are intact.'

'Does this mean you two are...together?' Ez asks and Rafa and I glance at each other.

'Yeah,' I say, sitting next to him. Not wanting to care what they think, but caring just the same. 'We are.'

'About freaking time.' Zak holds out his fist and Rafa b.u.mps it. I raise my eyebrows and Zak offers his fist to me, grinning. I half-laugh, slap it away. Rafa still hasn't made eye contact with Jude.

'Drinks, then?' Zak stands. 'It's fine, Gabe, I've already been in once. n.o.body ran out screaming.'

Ez rises too. 'I'll go with him. Really give them something to talk about.'

I know she means her scars, but that's not why people stare. They stare because she's beautiful-even with the claw marks-and Zak is impossible to miss with his flawless ebony skin and ma.s.sive shoulders. He ducks to clear the doorway as they go inside. Heads immediately turn. Murmuring follows. They make their way to the bar, and I'm surprised to see Simon behind it. His movements are tentative but he can reach the gla.s.ses and work the tap, so he's managing. He carefully pours a beer and hands it to Taya. She's sitting with Malachi, half-turned to the street, ready for action. But she makes a show of inspecting the beer and nods her approval.

'She can do better,' Rafa says, following my gaze.

'The beer or Simon?'

'Both.'

I roll my eyes. 'Get over it.'

I turn back to the table to find Jude bending back the edges of a coaster, lost in thought. Rafa glances at him and reaches for an empty beer bottle, peels a strip off the label. Neither of them speaks for a good half a minute. I should say something, get them started- 'f.u.c.k, Jude,' Rafa says in a burst of impatience. 'If you didn't want me to know what you were doing last year, why'd you leave all that cryptic s.h.i.t on your laptop?'

Jude tears a corner from the coaster. 'I set all that up before I had any idea what was going to happen.'

'What for?'

Another piece of coaster drops to the bench. 'Back in the day, Gabe and I used to joke about seeing the world without demon blood on our hands. After we left the Sanctuary, I hung on to the idea of us still disappearing one day to sort ourselves out-without everyone else weighing in with an opinion.'

'Everyone, as in me.'

Jude lets that slide. 'A few times, after too much tequila, I'd trawl the web for places we could go, bookmarked sites-stupid stuff like that. And then last year, Jason called. Next thing, I'm sitting on the pier at Santa Monica with my sister, and the idea didn't seem so crazy. I didn't know what was going to happen when we met Dani, but either way, I was going to float the plan to Gabe of us taking time out. Before I left that last time, I cleaned out the laptop except for those few bits and pieces-'

'Yeah, but why?'

'Because I didn't want to disappear without leaving you some hint of where I'd gone.'

'You could've just told me.'

'And when would I have done that-on the patio at Patmos? Before or after Gabe broke your nose?'

'If I'd known what the f.u.c.k was going on, that exchange might have gone down differently.'

'No it wouldn't have, and you know it. Not how things were back then. And by that point, it wasn't only about us. Gabe and I knew enough about Dani to put her at risk if we talked to anyone else.'

'Leaving random clues was an idiotic plan-even before Mya stole your laptop.'

'Yeah, well,' Jude says. 'Nothing quite worked out the way I intended. And I wasn't the only one being selective with information.'

Rafa peels another strip from the bottle, pastes it next to the first one. Between the label and Jude's half-destroyed coaster they're making a mess of the bench. 'How the h.e.l.l was I supposed to talk to you about that?' Rafa says.

'You're certainly not discussing it now.' I'm all for them talking through their issues, but not if it involves my s.e.x life. 'And enough with the craft projects.' I s.n.a.t.c.h the coaster from my brother and the bottle from Rafa. They both look at me, startled.

'Do you want to keep picking apart your mistakes, or can you move on?'

Jude gestures to Rafa. 'I can if he can.'

'Of course I can,' Rafa says. 'It's not like I've got the high ground here.'

They watch each other for a full five seconds. And then they slap their palms together, lean over the bench and thump each other on the back.

And like that, they're good.

Guys. Unbelievable.

Rafa straightens. 'Right. Where's our beer?'

He heads inside and Jude and I sit without speaking while half a dozen motorbikes rumble past. Exhaust fumes waft over us.

'Princess...' He says it tentatively, as if he's not sure how I'll react to the nickname now.

'It's okay,' I say. 'We're okay.'

Jude meets my eyes. 'I need to say it.' He reaches for the sc.r.a.ps of coaster, stops himself. 'When you found me on the dock in Tasmania-when I realised you were alive-that was the biggest moment of my life. It still is, even remembering everything else.'