by V L Moon
Loz shivered and locked away in her mind, Laziel did too. A chill had run through Laziel’s veins with each word Darklon spoke. His own worst fears had slammed into him, twisting the knife deep in his wounds. Inside Laziel’s chest, his heart fractured into shards of ice that tore through his soul. Silently screaming his rage at Darklon, Laziel took the love that bore life into Lachi’s soul and lifted it up toward the gates of Heaven.
Lachi was his, it was meant to be. No one could take that away from him, not Darklon or Vischeral fucking Bourne. He’d kill them all before he allowed anyone to violate the male he loved and adored.
White hot agony replaced the ice. Pain seared through him as he pushed the masculine portion of his soul out of his body and left the feminine part behind with their child. Hovering above Loz, Laziel listened briefly to the steady pace of their child’s heart.
Fuelled by the ache of his unrelenting need, Laziel projected himself clear of Loz and toward the only other soul he needed so desperately. It was an act that Laziel had only accomplished once before when he’d walked the bowels of Hell in search of his Seraphim brethren who’d lost their souls. He’d found them, or what remained of them and carried them home to their Heavenly resting place.
He knew the toll such an accomplishment would take on him; yet, he’d done it regardless. The child was safe within the womb of the womanly entity he’d left behind. He wouldn’t be gone long enough to cause any harm, and Darklon wouldn’t return again until well after nightfall. Laziel knew it was a selfish act on his behalf, but Darklon’s words wounded him so deeply he couldn’t breathe. For the first time since he’d created the magnificent life form now stretched out beneath him, Laziel felt the infliction of pain. Real pain as though the words Darklon spat might possibly come true.
Cautious of the fact Lachi might sense him within the familiar surroundings of the room where they’d slept curled around each other for centuries, the spiritual manifestation of Laziel’s masculine soul hovered silently above his sleeping male. For over nine weeks, Laziel had pined for Lachi, missed the savagery of the sexual chemistry they shared. He needed Lachi. He’d warred with himself from within his feminine form and managed to reconcile himself to the separation until the vehemence and threat from Darklon’s evil tongue had sent him reeling.
Below him, Lachi stirred, spreading himself liberally over the black fur throw covering their bed. “Laziel, please….” The whispered pleading from the beautiful lips he so needed to kiss tore out his heart. His male needed him, and as much as Laziel knew the risk, he couldn’t fight against the overwhelming desire instilled by Lachi’s scent. It drew Laziel in like a fish on a hook.
He lowered himself down and allowed his ethereal form to sink into his male. Lost in the feel of Lachi’s skin, Laziel became a part of his vampire mate and ran ghostly hands along every bare inch of Lachi’s flesh. Writhing inside of him, Laziel drove himself wild with the need to devour Lachi, take him deep as he touched tasted, licked and teased.
Even lost to the Sole Dormire, Lachi responded, moaning for his angel and reaching out for the familiar warmth of Laziel’s glowing flesh. Drunk on the powerful allure building between them, Laziel ran his tongue along the rippling grooves of Lachi’s abs. He bit the hard flesh between invisible sharp teeth and drew small wells of crimson blood. Greedily, he suckled, coating his larynx and moaning from the decadence of the vampiric essence he so ardently loved.
“Want you,” he breathed. “Feel me inside of you, feeding you my light. I’ll always be here, loving you, filling your heart and soul with my love. You are mine; my life, my creation. No one will take you away from me.” Lips pressed to lips. “Do you he hear me, Azarian? Whisper my name, fill me with the touch of your skin, take of my flesh and bury yourself inside of me please.” Laziel’s ghostly whispers breathed a path of ice over Lachi’s warm skin, causing Lachi to arc his spine and turn until his cock lay hard and weeping between his abs and the fur covered bed.
With his fists curled, Lachi tore through the softness of the black fur throw and rolled his hips. He pressed down hard and buried himself deep into the dreamlike apparition of Laziel’s yielding ass. “Fuck. My Laz. Always—always be mine.”
Grunting through each thrust, Laziel took Lachi deep as his ethereal form taunted the vampire. Celestial tears littered the bed. Lachi filled Laziel with the warmth of his touch. In return, Laziel poured out his heart, crying out toward the Heavens as he gave his Azarian every ounce of his love, his longing and strength. Lachi reared up, and a guttural roar resounded in the room when Lachi’s release spilled out into Laziel.
The force of Lachi’s release expelled Laziel’s form, sending a rainbow of light between their souls. Weak, yet unwilling to leave, Laziel stroked through the ebony strands of Lachi’s damp hair until the vampire’s convulsions eased, and he slipped gently into the realm of sleep.
With his spectral form fading, Laziel slipped through the realm of his mental euphoria and allowed his male form to ease back into Loz. Back within the darkness of his prison cell, Laziel wept, burying the ruby red gems beneath their bed of cold, damp hay. Darklon would never know of the grief he caused with the words he’d spoken. Laziel looked about the room through Loz’s eyes and vowed unto the Creator himself that Darklon would die a slow and painful death for threatening him with Vischeral Bourne. Breathing in the scent of Lachi coating his skin, Laziel split the last of his celestial energy and pushed it gently into Lachi’s child and Loz’s fading form.
~*~*~*~
Caught in the blissful twilight between sleep and wakefulness, Malachi inhaled the sensual fragrance of his angel. Like a well fed feline, he stretched and rolled, reaching for Laziel. The fur coverlet met his questing fingers. His eyes flipped open, and reality crashed down around him. The whispered words of love echoing in his thoughts died away. He lay still, confused by the signals from his body and the very empty bed beside him.
Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the room and himself. The angel’s unmistakable scent hung heavy in the air. Beneath the heady aroma, another familiar scent taunted him, his own come. He lifted his right arm, brought it to his nose and inhaled. Laziel. His male was home; he had to be. His scent was too strong. It clung to Malachi’s skin.
“Laziel!” he called as he sat up. His head twisted toward the bathroom, and he flicked on the bedside light though he didn’t need it. Mocking silence answered him. He shifted to leave the bed and something sharp dug into his ass, but he ignored it in his haste to find the angel. Irritation rippled along his nerves.
“Angel, quit with your games and get your ass out here.”
Stillness.
Naked, he rose from the bed and strode across the room. Slamming into the bathroom, he glanced around and growled. Nothing. On the return trip to the bed, he scanned every square inch of their bedroom.
Subconsciously, he noticed his body thrummed with energy. The weariness that had been dragging at him was gone. However, his very real and insistent thirst remained. He needed to feed and soon. “Laziel, if you don’t get your ass out here, I’m going to find another source of blood,” he called to the empty room. It was an empty threat. The thought of taking blood from another repulsed him. He waited. The quiet pressed in against him.
Frustrated, he crossed to the bed and grabbed the black fur blanket his angel preferred. In a fit of temper, he ripped it from the bed. Staccato pings bounced off the ceiling and walls. “What the fucking hell?” he breathed.
Small stones scattered across the sheets. Rubies? He bent and picked up one of the larger ones. It rolled onto his palm and sparkled in the light. He was no jeweler but the luster of the stone and the deep crimson color sure as fuck looked like the real thing except—Malachi picked up a second and then a third stone. Each one was a perfectly formed teardrop, some larger than the others. His gaze swept to the floor and more stones glittered up at him.
He tried to remember if Loz had been wearing jewelry the night she was taken. Had Darklon somehow
gotten someone inside his room? While he slept? Spinning on a bare heel, he stalked toward the door. But, a long forgotten story shoved through the upheaval in his mind. He’d been six, seven years old back in the old village. Firelight had danced across Laziel’s animated face as he told a young vampire the story of Heaven’s battle with Hell.
“And as the Seraphim strode from the depths of Hell carrying his slain brethren, ruby tears littered the ground around his feet. Those same tears fell to Earth as he ascended to his Creator’s side. It is a rare and precious treasure to find one of them.” Laziel’s voice echoed in his memories. As a youngster, he’d spent the next week digging up their patch of grass certain he would find one of the precious stones.
His gaze fell upon the treasure trove in his bed, and his heart splintered. As he’d grown, he’d learned that Seraphim was his Laziel. Staring down at the evidence, he knew somehow during the day his male had returned to him however briefly. Why had he come when he was lost to the Sole Dormire? Had Laz sensed him weakening? And why hadn’t he stayed, awakened him? Were the tears because he was in pain? Were they tears of goodbye?
Panic seized Malachi. “No,” he moaned. “No, he’s mine. I want him back.” The beast inside roared, and it took every molecule of his will to hold the monster back. “I will have him back.” Raw pain waged war inside of him. His mind went blank and he crashed to his knees rocking back and forth. He’d lost him all over again. He reached for the bond and sucked in air. So weak. His angel was so damned weak, and still the female side of him held sway.
“Fight her, Laziel. For me, for us,” he begged without knowing if the celestial could hear him. “I need you,” he whispered. “Creator, how I need you.” A mirthless laugh fell from his lips, ending on a strangled sob. “Darklon’s going to win because I can’t survive without you.”
Malachi doubled over and clutched his stomach, the pain in his chest so intense it nauseated him. His head came to rest against the cool marble floor. The rage finally gave way to the pain and fear. Dry heaves and sobs shook his frame. Why did you leave me again? Why won’t you come home? He tugged at the bond again, but received no response. “Laziel….” The angel’s name echoed in the room. I love you.
He lay there for a long time; mind blank, emotions running amok. He heard the guards change as the sun went down though none dared enter his sanctum. The clock on the wall chimed the hour. A spider scurried across the floor almost unnoticed. Melancholy settled on his broad shoulders. It was the sparkle of an angel’s tears that finally registered. His gaze slowly focused.
Crimson red glinted, beckoning him. Stiffly, he stretched out an arm and snagged the small ruby. Another flashed in his peripheral vision. Mindlessly, he plucked it from the floor, and then another and another until he’d gathered all he could reach. With the marble around him clear, he dredged up the energy to stand and cross to the bed. Angel tears littered the black silk. Finding each one seemed to be the only thing he could focus on without completely losing his shit and destroying his enclave again.
He lost count at a hundred, and his heart broke at the increasing pile on his dresser. By the time he’d scoured the bed and floor and collected every ruby, he felt as he were going to implode. Moisture stood in his eyes, but he refused to let the tears fall anymore. On autopilot, he walked to the closet and pulled out fighting gear. H needed out; needed to do—something.
After dressing quickly, he scooped the rubies from the dresser and poured them into a small leather pouch. Unwilling to leave them behind, he tied the small bundle around his neck and let it fall to rest against his sternum. Spinning on a booted heel, he stalked across the room and flung the door open. Saul shot to his feet. Malachi’s eyes zeroed in on him.
“Meet me at the entrance in fifteen minutes. I have a stop to make.”
“Denali, if you leave without me again….”
“Silence!” Malachi roared. “Entrance. Fifteen minutes.” He glared at the head of the Guard until the male nodded once in assent. His black glare circumvented the squadron in his outer rooms. “All of you are dismissed. Saul, reassign them.” He ignored the sputtered arguments and marched out with a single destination in mind.
He wound through the catacombs and lower hallways until he stood before the concealed door to Laziel’s chapel. The door opened easily under his touch, and he ducked inside. Laziel’s scent swamped him all over again as he made his way to the altar. From the pouch, he fished out a single teardrop and placed it on the smooth surface. He stood silent for several minutes hoping the peace of his angel’s private sanctuary would soothe him. When he lifted his head, his eyes burned with unholy red flames.
“If this is your idea of keeping him safe, we need to talk,” he sneered, staring at the likeness of the Creator suspended from the ceiling. “I know Darklon has him, and I know he could escape anytime he chose. So that means he won’t come back to me because of you and this fucked up destiny that is supposed to be my life.” Malachi slammed a fist down on the red stone with such brutal force it imbedded in the altar. Veins cracked and spider-webbed over the polished surface.
“I get any more of those, your destiny will be fucked to Hell and this time there won’t be any coming back from the brink. End this, end me, but release him from whatever fucking prison you have him caged in. This is my fight. You put that responsibility on my shoulders. Put me in his place; let me be the one to suffer.” Malachi’s voice rose as his anger flared higher and hotter. “He loves you, and you are killing him. Some fucking Creator you are!”
The ground shook. An unseen force slammed into him knocking him from his feet. His head bounced off the back wall and he slid tonelessly to the floor. “What he does, he does for love.” The voice stabbed into Malachi’s head. His entire body seized as pure Heavenly power poured into him. “You dare too much with your savage ways. It is not your place to question my plan for him.” Ever defiant, Malachi fought against the Heavenly Host.
“Fuck. You.” He bit out. “He’s mine. I. Will. Fight. For. Him. Until. My. Dying. Breath.” Each word was a struggle, and his fearlessness only increased the avenging strength of the Being that bound him. His right femur splintered under the pressure. Agony raced up his leg. His fangs appeared and sank into his bottom lip. Rebelliousness shone in his mercurial eyes. More pain shot through his system when his left humerus snapped clean in half. His masochistic side reveled in the pain and his cock hardened despite the threat of his demise. Pressure pounded in his skull and black spots appeared in his vision.
Death’s cold hand traveled up his spine. Malachi braced for the kill. But, it never came. The celestial smack down withdrew, and he slumped to the floor. New agony erupted when the broken bones jarred. He bit back his groan, refusing to give the angel’s Creator any satisfaction. He didn’t know why he was being spared, didn’t much give a fuck. Using his good arm, he pushed up to a sitting position gritting his teeth as his right thigh protested loudly. He dug his cell out and called Saul.
“Changed my mind,” he said when the Captain of the Guard answered. “No, I’m not bullshitting and no, I won’t’ tell you where I am. The GPS won’t work, not here. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up and tossed the phone aside. His head fell back to rest against the cold stone wall. He stared at the crucifix through hooded eyes.
“I just want my Laziel back,” he muttered. “Just give me my angel and I’ll do whatever the fuck you want.” The broken plea went unanswered.
~*~*~*~
Chapter Seventeen
~*~*~*~
Heaven
The summons came by messenger; an inauspicious white envelope bearing her name in beautiful script. Mirabella Ande. She ran her fingers over the vellum paper. All of her life’s training revolved around the words written on the slip of paper inside.
“Open it.” The awed whisper came from her best friend and roommate, Sashka Nepali. With trembling fingers, Mirabella flipped it over and broke the wax seal. Her wings trembled with nervous excitement as sh
e slid the missive out and unfolded it.
Instead of a name, she read brief instructions ordering her to a meeting later in the evening. A frown furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand. I passed all of the tests; they gave me my wings and weapons.” She sprang from the bed to pace. “I’m a guardian angel not a consultant.”
“Mirabella!” Sashka tried to shush her. “You never know when the archangels are listening. You promised no more questions and no more outbursts.” The real fear in Sashka’s face stopped her furious pacing. Her shoulders slumped.
“Sorry, Sashka,” she apologized and returned to her friend’s side to flop onto the bed. “It’s been over two years since I completed training. I finished at the top of the class and still others have been given souls to protect while I’m overlooked.”
“Maybe it’s someone important, and they need to tell you in person,” Sashka offered.
Mirabella rolled onto her stomach. “Not likely. Don’t forget the vaunted Archangel Michael only tolerates my status of Guardian.”
Sashka giggled. “Well you did singe his wings when you were learning to use holy fire.”
“But, it was an accident. He landed in the middle of the arena directly in front of my target,” Mirabella exclaimed.
“And that was deliberate, Guardian.”
Mirabella gasped and jumped to her feet, hastily straightening her robe. Beside her, Sashka scrambled to mirror her stance. “Good eve, Michael,” she said, struggling to hide the sudden fear in her voice. “We weren’t expecting you.”
“A Guardian always expects to be called,” Michael intoned. Mirabella’s shoulders slumped for a second and then straightened. She met the archangel’s gaze steadily. From the time she’d entered training, he’d made it his personal mission to see her fail. The holy fire incident was only one of many times he’d appeared to foul up her otherwise perfect scores.