I went over again my phone call with Porter, the visit to Kostya’s lair, the conversation with Porter in Paris, and the pertinent parts of my conversation with Magoth. I was sick with the knowledge that my ignorance had set Magoth onto the trail of the phylactery, but Gabriel brushed aside my pathetic apology.

‘‘The blackmailer poses no problem. We can deal with him so that he will offer no threat to Cyrene or you.’’ He rose and began pacing the room. ‘‘As for the demon lord . . . I would have preferred to keep knowledge of the phylactery’s whereabouts confined only to us, but as we cannot undo what has been done, we will simply have to make the best of the situation. Our first and foremost priority must be to get the phylactery before Magoth can order you to retrieve it for him.’’ He paused to give me a long look. ‘‘Or has he already done that?’’

Bile rose, burning the back of my throat. I wanted to admit the truth to Gabriel, to cling to him and sob out my sorrows, avoiding all the unpleasantness that was woven into my life, but I couldn’t do that to him, not while there was the slightest shred of hope that I could avoid Magoth’s command.

I touched my throat where Magoth had almost succeeded in throttling me. ‘‘He attacked me when he realized what the phylactery was. I was on the verge of passing out—’’

Gabriel, distracted as I had hoped he would be, was instantly at my side, probing my neck with gentle fingers. ‘‘You were bruised here. Your flesh still remembers the trauma. I will ease its memory.’’

His lips caressed my neck, building the banked fire within me until I moaned at the sensation of his skin against mine.

I tossed aside the clothing I was still holding, falling into his arms, kissing a line along his jaw.

‘‘I cannot seem to get enough of you, little bird,’’ he murmured as his tongue swept broad strokes across my neck. I’d never been licked before by a man, but the sensation wasn’t even remotely repugnant. Gabriel positively hummed with pleasure as I slid my hands down his silky skin, tracing out the hills and valleys that made up the planes of his back. ‘‘You are so good, Mayling. You taste so good.’’

I let my forehead drop to his shoulder, guilt spiking through my desire until the latter all but evaporated. ‘‘I’m not good. I’m not good at all, Gabriel. Even assuming we have nothing to worry about with Porter and whomever he’s working for, Magoth will move mountains to get that phylactery.’’