Playing With Fire - Katie MacAlister [125]
‘‘Why not?’’
‘‘I just can’t. You take it.’’
Gabriel looked at the box. ‘‘Does it contain something dangerous?’’
‘‘No, I just can’t—’’
‘‘For the love of the sun and moon! I do not have time for this!’’ Misha shoved the box into my hands. The second it hit my flesh, the world shimmied for a few seconds. My fingers tightened around the box holding the phylactery as I gazed in absolute horror at Gabriel.
Before anyone could say anything, a demon opened up the fabric of being behind me, wrapped its hand around my upper arm, and yanked me with it through the gaping hole.
Chapter Twenty-five
Being summoned to Magoth is never a pleasant experience, but when he used a demon to do the summoning, it was downright sickening. The demon dropped me on the floor, where I lay fighting the urge to retch, unaware for a moment of everything but the horrible sickness caused by being yanked through a hole in reality.
The second I heard Magoth drawl, ‘‘Greetings, dragon. I assume I have the pleasure of addressing the wyvern of the silver sept,’’ I realized two things: first, the tight feeling around my arm when the demon jerked me was due to Gabriel grabbing ahold of me (and thus being pulled along with me to Magoth’s presence), and second, life as I knew it was about to cease.
‘‘I am Gabriel Tauhou, yes. What business do you have with my mate that you must abuse her in this fashion?’’
I used a chair next to me to drag myself to my feet. Gabriel looked even more battered than he had moments before, his nose bleeding again. ‘‘Don’t talk to him,’’ I begged, throwing myself toward Gabriel.
‘‘Stop!’’ Magoth flicked his fingers toward me, capturing me in an invisible web that bound me where I stood. ‘‘I believe you have something of mine, sweet May. You will hand that over now.’’
Gabriel’s eyes glittered with a burning light as he turned his gaze on the demon lord. ‘‘Release my mate.’’
‘‘Don’t talk to him. For the love of the gods, Gabriel, don’t converse with him.’’
A slight frown appeared between his brows. ‘‘Are you well, mate? You seem overly distressed about a trivial matter.’’
‘‘It’s not trivial,’’ I said, all but sobbing. ‘‘You have to leave, Gabriel. You have to leave now.’’
‘‘I am not going to leave you by yourself,’’ he said, a flash of disbelief in his eyes.
‘‘You have to.’’ I had a hard time catching my breath, but made an effort to calm my wildly beating heart. Gabriel would respond to reason—he had to. ‘‘This has nothing to do with you. Magoth cannot hold you prisoner without bringing down the wrath of the weyr upon his head. You must leave, now, before . . .’’ The words came to a stop. I couldn’t tell him the truth, not while Magoth watched us with laughing black eyes.
‘‘May,’’ Gabriel said softly, taking my hands. ‘‘I thought you understood that there is nothing this demon lord can do to make you hurt me. You fear for my well-being unnecessarily. I told you that I’m incredibly difficult to kill. You really must learn to trust me.’’
I closed my eyes against the pain for a few seconds, my soul weeping tears of sheer agony. I wanted to scream to the heavens, to rail against the vault attendant and the pedantic rules that insisted he deliver my possessions into my hands. I wanted to destroy Magoth for the anguish he was about to wreak upon my life. But most of all, I wanted to tell Gabriel how sorry I was, how deep into my being he had burrowed.
‘‘Little bird, why do you cry?’’ he asked softly, the gentle brush of his thumb over my cheekbone so sweet, it broke down the last of my reserves, and I admitted the truth. I didn’t just love him—I loved beyond all reason, with every atom of my being.
I stared at him, unable to speak the words before the abomination that was responsible for all my grief.
‘‘As fascinating as this is, I do have an appointment in fifteen minutes,’’ Magoth said, glancing at his watch. He stood and strolled over to where I was still bound to the floor, eyeing Gabriel curiously for a moment, clearly sizing him up. ‘‘This is what you spurned me for? Dreadlocks, sweet May? Or