Page 40 of Raising Hell

“This is different,” he murmurs, his eyes darting around my face.

“Oh, darling.” I swipe my thumb across his cheek, dropping the gentlest of kisses there. “Everything’s different, isn’t it?”

Something crosses over him, an emotion that I don’t have time to identify, and then he presses his lips to mine. This isn’t the heated, frantic kisses we’ve shared in the past, when we’reheading towards a goal. This is slow and lazy, a cruise on a country back road with no destination in mind.

Finding solace in each other’s company.

Being together just for the sake of it.

It’s terrifying as it is electrifying, and I can’t get enough.

His tongue pushes into my mouth, sliding and twisting with mine, as our bodies tangle. We’re both hard, but neither of us makes a move to take this any further. The deep kisses and gentle touches, soft murmurs against skin and fingers through hair… it’s enough.

It’severything.

Suddenly, Amon separates us and turns his head, pain eating at his features. “What are we doing, Cas?” He pulls away, and I can tell I’ve lost the moment as he sits up and scrubs his hands down his face. As much as I want to reach for him, as much as Iacheto comfort him, I give him his space.

“What are we going to do?” he asks, stress turning his voice jagged as the conversation circles back to the inevitable topic we can’t move past.

The problem we can’t solve.

“We’ll figure it out,” I say with confidence I don’t have.

“Rory’s going to find out, Cas. What then?”

And what a fucking question. What do we do when Rory realizes that the spell he cast is fading? When he finds out that his command over us is slipping, and that our tether to this realm weakens every day?

What do we do when the compulsion to return to Hell becomes too much?

“Keep searching, Amon, there has to be a—”

All at once, we both sit up straighter, and my hand clutches my heart at the sudden ache that registers. Our eyes meet again, full of concern.

Rory.

Chapter 18

Amon

My knuckles rap against the door, not seeking permission but warning that I’m entering. Rory’s head pops up from his pillow, red-rimmed and misty. He’s defeated, something I haven’t witnessed since the first few days after he summoned me.

The impact of his sadness almost knocks me back, pinching at my heart in a way I’ve never experienced.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, lowering myself onto the bed beside him.

“Oh, Amon,” he sobs, throwing himself at me as I stare at the top of his head in shock. I’ve always struggled with this—showing affection and caring for others. My discomfort is pushed aside as I wrap my arms around him, letting my fingertips glide along his spine.

Cas studies me as he drops onto Rory’s other side, curling against his back as he reaches for his hand. “Talk to us, baby,” Cas whispers into Rory’s hair, pushing it out of his face andraking his nails against his scalp. Once again, I’m hit with a potent rush of inadequacy that makes me feel like I’m invading on a private moment, but I push it aside.

Rory wants me here. He needs my comfort.

“It’s stupid,” he whispers, a hiccup interrupting his words.

“Anything that hurts you could never be stupid,” I say, and Cas nods his agreement. Rory is quiet for a long time, refusing to share what’s upset him because of the misguided fear of judgement.

Something deep inside me thrashes, needing to take away his pain.

My chest tightens, pulse rapid-firing as I muster my courage. If I want Rory to open up, I have to be willing to do the same, even if the words are whispered. “I left because I was scared.”

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