Page 26 of The Sinner and the Scholar
Wesley springs up and rushes off. His long legs make short work of the library floor. I think I’ve offended him for a moment, but he moves a few stacks until he finds a particular row and pulls out a book. He’s already flicking through the pages when he returns.
“There.” He puts the book down and points to a page with a similar symbol. “That’s it.”
I lean closer to read the inscription. “The mark of Lilith. As in, the demon?”
“TheMotherof Demons,” he corrects, puffing up with self-pride, and damn it, he looks better than hot. Blistering. Again, I shouldn’t be thinking about his looks. This is becoming quite an annoying habit of mine.
While Sinners are allowed to have sex, we find partners outside the abbey estate out of respect. Even the nuns are safe here, and with Mercy around, that’s saying a lot. But he’s an attractive man. He smells nice. And he confuses me with his willingness to help.
Wesley stands behind me and rests one hand on my seat while the other reaches around me to point at the page. “Lilith is the first wife of Adam… but also rumored to be Lucifer’s wife and, here—”
He turns a few pages and then places his palm beside the book. The heat of his body buzzes along my back, making me feel like I’m standing before a warm fire on a cold day. It distracts the fuck out of me.
“I know who Lilith is,” I clip, shifting in my seat. “She rebelled against the very first mansplainer.”
He doesn’t take the hint. So I scowl and refocus on the book, specifically the passage about Lilith and the color plate illustration beside it—a familiar figure with long red locks, a voluptuous body, and a temptress portrayal. She reminds me of Mercy.
A sick feeling rolls in my gut, and I itch to reread the prophecy in case this likeness makes a difference. But Wesley launches into an explanation of the levels of hell and demonology. I find myself reluctantly listening. His passion for history is like mine. Admiration creeps in. He’s not just a handsome face. The man knows his stuff.
It’s sexy.
It makes me want to forget I’m a Sinner, forget about the world ending, and play a game called I belong in a romance novel starring Wesley as my book boyfriend. It would start with a stolen kiss between the stacks and end with me corrupting his delicate sensibilities... just like Mary predicted.
And the sinners shall corrupt the saintly to reshape the light of truth from lies and deceit.
Before I know it, my traitorous body is on fire. The girls would tell me to just fuck him. Get him out of my system. Enjoy the ride. But it would be a game. Distraction. Torture. More trouble than it’s worth.
I’ve heard most of his lecture before, so I zone out and flip through the book about Lilith. There are many sketches and lithographs of her with others. There is Satan, or Lucifer. Samael, the fallen angel. According to whoever is telling the story, high-level demons were decreed as kings or princes of hell. One demon steals my attention. Asmodeus is a handsome devil who carouses and peddles lust and gambling, but that’s not what grabs me. He’s named the king of earthly spirits, of lust, war, and revenge… or… I tap the word on the page and interrupt Wesley.
“Do you know that word?”
He squints at it and leans closer, bringing the scent of his citrus aftershave so close that I can taste it.
“Sakhr. Islamic, I believe. Something like the rock, or I think I’ve seen it as the—”
“Stony One,” I finish for him. “Sakhrmeans rock or something.”
“If you can translate it, why did you ask me?”
“I wasn’t a hundred percent sure,” I mumble.
Wasn’t there something in the prophecy about a stone?
Wesley says, “Asmodeus is sometimes known as a beneficent demon. Perhaps even a friend to man, if you will. He’s frequently mentioned in theKabbalahand even invoked for spells and incantations. I think there’s a copy of theMalleus Maleficarumsomewhere. I could check to see if there’s more information for you.”
“No.” I close the book. “It’s fine, thank you.”
I stand, essentially pushing him out of the way. Gathering my things, I go to leave, but Wesley blocks me. “I haven’t finished telling you about the mark of Lilith.”
“That’s because you were wrong.”
He blinks. “I beg your pardon?”
I reopen the book and point to the mark he showed me. “It’s not the exact mark. The one I carved had bits in these places. So, thank you for your time, but I don’t need to know anything else.”
“With respect, love, yes, you do.” He blocks me again, getting into my space.
It’s hard to breathe. Hard to think. I can deal with violence, but names of endearment, even if they’re common throwaways, are not something I’m used to.
