by Larissa Ione
His wings folded and obediently disappeared.
“So where are they now, these friends? Do you think they’re searching for you?” She raked him critically with her gaze, from his muscular legs and hard-cut upper torso to his square, masculine jaw and intelligent eyes. She appreciated all of that, but his friends would see him very differently. “What do you think they’d do if you showed up looking like this? Fallen angel wings and a dark soul? They’ll turn on you. They’ll kill you, Cipher.”
“No, they won’t.”
She’d had faith in her own friends and family once too. And, like Cipher, she hadn’t listened to warnings. “Like I said, you’re a fool.”
“Sounds like someone is a little bitter.” One blond eyebrow went up in a quizzical arch. “Betrayed by friends, I’m guessing?”
“Family.” She looked out over the scorched and cratered field of destruction Cipher had wrought upon the earth and vegetation. “But friends abandoned me too. It was fun. Lots of fun.”
At least none of her family had enjoyed watching as she was held down and her wings severed. They’d been devastated. Her sisters, even the one who had betrayed her, had cried. Her mother, wracked by sobs, had collapsed in grief. And her father, ever stoic and suffering from a perpetual stiff upper lip, had managed to scrounge up a tear to shed.
Although she couldn’t be sure if the tear was for her or for his reputation.
How could you, he’d whispered just loudly enough for her to hear as guards escorted her to the chopping block. She’d brought so much shame and dishonor down on her family, and all for a male.
But that male had been worth the risk. If not for her own poor judgment in confiding in her sister, no one would have found out that she’d fallen for a demon.
She’d played that day over and over in her head, wishing she’d never told Lihandra about him, and she definitely regretted arranging for them to meet. If only Lihandra could have seen the good in him, a champion for those who couldn’t get justice any other way. For those who couldn’t stand up for themselves.
And now he was dead, Lyre was disgraced, and her sister got to justify what she’d done by saying she’d done it for Lyre’s own good and that she hadn’t meant for Lyre to lose her wings.
Right.
As an angel named Lyresiel, Lyre had a contentious relationship with her older sister. She and Lihandra had never agreed on anything, had gone almost a century without speaking once, and had driven her parents and younger sister, Bellagias, mad with their fighting. But Lyre had never believed Lihandra hated her so much that she’d turn Lyre in for “copulating with a demon.”
Lyre hadn’t “copulated” with anyone, but that hardly mattered to the angelic council that presided over such matters. That she would have copulated with said demon was what mattered. Oh, yes, she’d admitted all the things she’d wanted to do with him.
I’d have let him take my virginity, and then I’d have ridden him until we both passed out. And then we’d have done it in our dreams, because he had the power to connect us that way, too.
Every member of the council had gone apoplectic. But her erotic agenda wasn’t what had gotten her kicked out of Heaven. Nope. They’d been willing to cut her some slack and write her dalliance off as a youthful transgression. Oh, there would have been some severe punishment, of course, but compared to losing one’s wings, it would have been a slap on the wrist.
No, she’d have gotten off easy.
If they just hadn’t gone and killed her demon.
* * * *
So Lyre had been betrayed by her family.
That had to suck.
Cipher, for all his faults, had been lucky enough to have a supportive family. Sure, when he’d fucked up and lost his wings they’d been disappointed, but neither his parents nor any of his twenty-two siblings had trashed him. A couple had even reached out to him during his time in Sheoul-gra, keeping in contact and relaying messages from his parents.
But that was before. When he’d been an Unfallen trying to earn his way back into Heaven. How would they react to his becoming a True Fallen? Was Lyre right? Would his friends and family turn on him? Try to kill him?
Lyre seemed lost in thought, her gaze going somewhere he couldn’t go. The weird thing was that he wanted to. Because as much as he figured he should hate her, he didn’t.
Maybe he just didn’t know her well enough to hate her.
Dammit, he wished he had access to the internet or demonweb. He’d love to do a little cyberstalking to find out more about her.
Guess he had to stick with the old-fashioned way. Ugh. Digging up dirt online was so much easier and less talky.
“So,” he said, taking the plunge. “How did you lose your wings?”
She jammed her fists on her hips, just above where her low-slung waistband sat. She’d flashed away at some point while he’d been practicing his new powers, and she’d come back with clean clothes free of scorch marks. He definitely approved of the outfit. In the months he’d known her, she’d always worn earth or muted tones, but today’s black cargo pants had been paired with a purple tank top that emphasized her perfect, rounded breasts and slender waist. And her combat boots had matching purple laces.
He wondered what color her bra and panties were.
“You know that asking someone how they fell from grace is considered a rude question,” she huffed.
Yeah, he had totally sick social skills. “Do I look like I’m concerned about being rude?” He looked down at his palm and summoned a ball of crimson light in an attempt to use his new powers without his wings extended. Maybe he’d have more control this way. One thing that didn’t change was the oily, malevolent vibe that skated over the surface of his skin when he was using one of his fallen angel powers. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s okay,” she sighed. “I fell in love with a demon.”
“A demon?” His hand jerked in surprise and his ball of light fell to the ground, exploding into a thousand shards of light on impact. “Was he hot? Like, not all scaly and snouty?”
“Of course he was hot,” she said as she leaped backward to avoid a spark of super-heated light. “He was a...what are they called? Ter-taceo? He looked like any other human male model.”
“He was a model?”
“He was a psychotherapist.”
Sounded boring as shit. Lots of talky. And he’d bet the guy wasn’t even that attractive. “What species?”
“Somniatus.”
He revised his thought. Not so boring. “A nightmare devil.”
Demon slayers claimed they were one of the most dangerous demons there were, attacking their victims in their dreams where they were vulnerable.
She smiled wistfully, and Cipher cursed the trickle of jealousy making its way through his body. He had no reason to be envious of a freaking demon.
Had it fed on her like Cipher had? Had it tasted the sweet nectar that had flowed over his fangs and tongue? The very idea that the guy might have taken her like that made him a little prickly. Again, for no freaking reason.
“He was a nightmare,” she said softly, “but only to those who deserved it.”
“So he was a benevolent demon? Really?” Color him skeptical. “Somniati feed off of terror.”
Her smile turned wicked, matching the gleam in her eyes. “And who better to terrorize than those who hurt others?”
Okay, yeah, he’d give her that. There was no sport in hurting innocents. Bringing a tough-guy asshole to his knees, though...that was satisfying.
“So you lost your wings for fucking a demon?” Cipher regretted asking the moment it was out of his mouth, because now he couldn’t stop picturing her naked. With another male. “I thought Heaven stopped doing that a few centuries ago.”
“They seem to pick and choose,” she muttered. “But no, that’s not why I got a one-way ticket out of Heaven.” She looked off into the distance again, beyond the lake bubbling with shit-brown liquid a
nd the mountain range shaped like skulls, but this time, her expression was etched in anger. “I was to be confined to the Heavenly realm as punishment, so before the sentence was carried out, I went to say goodbye to him. But while I was at his place, we were attacked.”
“The Aegis?”
“I wish those demon-slaying idiots were the ones who attacked us. They were angels. I fought back. I had to protect him, you know?” She didn’t wait for his acknowledgment. “I accidentally killed a novice battle angel who was there to assist in Dailon’s capture.”
Oh, fuck. “Yeah, that would do it.” He made another light ball, but smaller this time. “So they booted you after that?”
“Oh, no,” she said, her voice dripping with bitterness. “That would have been too easy. First they forced me to watch as he was tortured and killed.”
He winced, having witnessed a few executions by angels making a point. “That had to have sucked.”
A few strands of silky hair had escaped her messy bun, and a hot breeze spun up, whipping them around her cheeks, softening her expression. She didn’t belong in this hellscape, and for the first time, he wanted to know about her background not for tactical reasons, but for personal ones.
“I knew going into our relationship that we didn’t have a shot at a meaningful future, but I wanted time to figure that out, you know?” She cocked her head, watching him with curiosity. “You seem pretty chill about this. You’re the most laid-back fallen angel I’ve ever met.”
“Well, I have only been fallen for a few years. True Fallen for a few months. You know, since the day I was dragged down here and imprisoned in Bael’s ice jail.”
A shamed blush bloomed in her cheeks, surprising the shit out of him. “I remember when Bael sent Flail on a mission to infiltrate Azagoth’s realm. I was jealous for a while.” She gave a bitter laugh. “As a historian, I was dying to meet him.”
He frowned as the implications of what she was saying took a dark turn. “So Flail wasn’t sent to nab me?”
“Not at first. Bael wanted intel on Azagoth. You just happened to be the best way to get it.”
Well, fuck. If he hadn’t invited Flail into his bed and, therefore, his life, she’d never have known how important his cyber skills had been to Azagoth. This was all his fault.
Which didn’t change the fact that Flail needed to die.
Lyre studied him for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “I’m curious. What were you like as an angel?”
Ah, those were the days. He’d spent them surfing on the Beaches of Paradise, skiing in the Infinite Mountains, and feasting on dishes crafted from decadent ingredients available only in Heaven.
“I was a laid-back son-of-a-bitch,” he said. “Pissed off all the Type-As, you know?”
“Is that why you fell?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and he suddenly wondered if they were sensitive to being nibbled. “Pissed off the wrong asshole?”
“Nah. I slept with a Primori.”
“Oh...shit.” She stared. “Human?”
“Human virgin whose virginity was the reason she was Primori.” His actions had also screwed over Hawkyn, who had been her guardian. He hadn’t known Hawkyn at the time, so he hadn’t really cared. To this day he couldn’t believe Hawk had forgiven him.
“Did you know she was Primori when you slept with her?”
“Yeah.”
She stared harder. “Did you know what a Primori was? Like, that they’re guarded by Memitim because something about them is important to the fate of the world?”
“Well, I didn’t know her virginity was the thing that made her a Primori. And I didn’t know she was a virgin until afterward.” Still, it was forbidden for any angel to sleep with a human, let alone a human under the protection of Memitim. “But yeah.”
“Damn. You’re an asshole.”
He snorted, because hello, that was obvious. “Yeah.”
But if he could take it back, he would. He’d met the human, Felicia, in Fiji, where she was on her honeymoon. Alone. Her fiancé had left her at the altar, and since the honeymoon was paid for, she’d gone alone. She’d been angry and hurt and ready for a vengeful wild fling to give someone else what she’d saved for the man who’d left her.
He’d been at the resort keeping tabs on a demon plotting a cyber attack on several countries, and Felicia had set her sights on him. Being young, arrogant, and really, really easy, he’d been all about hooking up with the hot, tight-bodied woman looking for a way to forget her jackass of a fiancé.
Then Hawkyn had showed up, all, “Hey, she’s Primori, and you need to back the fuck off, Halo.”
No one told Cipher to back the fuck off.
So he’d ignored the Memitim, and when Hawkyn showed up again, knocking on Felicia’s hotel room door just as they were starting to get down and dirty, Cipher had enough. As a full angel, he’d been far more powerful than Hawkyn, and he’d put the Memitim into a temporary coma and flashed him to a deserted island.
Then he’d given Felicia a night to remember.
He had a lot of regrets about that day, but taking care of Felicia wasn’t one of them. He shouldn’t have had sex with her; that much was clear. But he didn’t regret everything else he’d done to help her get through the pain of being betrayed by her fiancé. It wasn’t much, but when she’d cried afterward, he’d held her. He’d brought her food and nursed her through a hangover. And when she’d talked about hurting herself, he’d talked her off the ledge.
The day she’d flown back home, he’d been summoned to Heaven for a quick judgment and a wingectomy.
No, sleeping with Felicia hadn’t been worth it. He didn’t know what her destiny would have been if he hadn’t, but just a year ago he’d checked up on her and found that she was a happily married Connecticut dietician with two grown children, grandchildren, and a beach house in Florida. Hopefully, at least for her, her life was better than it would have been if Cipher hadn’t interfered.
“Well, come on, asshole,” Lyre said, mercifully pulling him out of his past. “We have things to do.”
“Food?” he asked hopefully. His stomach was starting to rebel.
“Right after I show you your new home.”
He shouldn’t be excited about getting a residence in Sheoul, but anything had to be better than where he’d spent the last seven months. “You mean I don’t have to sleep on a slab of ice in a prison cell anymore?”
“Nope. If you were a demon, you’d get a filthy hut in some shanty town somewhere. But lucky you, you’re a fallen angel, so you get an upgrade.” She waggled her dark brows. “In Sheoul, fallen angels are the elite. Like the super-rich in the human world. Different rules apply. Like how you were in the luxury prison.”
That had been luxury? He didn’t even want to know how much worse it could have been.
“Where do you live?” he asked.
Her wings, midnight black with elegant arches, erupted from her back. “Give me your hand and I’ll show you.”
He took her hand, liking the way they fit together. “We’re going to fly?”
“The curse on your wings prevents you from flashing, even within Bael’s realm, so you might as well get used to flying.”
He gestured to the dents in the ground where he’d hit it hard. “You saw how well that went.”
“That’s why I’m holding your hand,” she explained. “I’m going to help you.”
He didn’t have the chance to process his surprise that she was going to take the time to help him get his flying shit together before she’d lifted off, yanking him into the air with her. But he did give a silent thanks, because the quicker he became proficient at this fallen angel stuff, the faster he was going to get out of here.
Maybe she’ll come with you.
Startled by that sudden thought, he faltered in flight and nearly took a dive. But Lyre’s capable, strong arms caught him, and her wings buoyed them into the endless sky with effortless grace.
Yeah. Maybe she’d c
ome with him.
Or maybe he’d have to kill her.
But it was definitely a predicament for later.
Chapter Twelve
The flight to Lyre’s place took twice as long as it should have, but it certainly had been interesting. And sometimes terrifying. Like a test flight of an airplane built by someone who had never seen one.
Cipher definitely failed at Fallen Angel Flying 101, but Lyre gave him an A for effort and an A+ for cursing.
“Mother...fuck!” He shouted as one wing crumpled and he rolled hard. Lyre barely caught him before he spun out of control and nailed one of the housing structures they were trying to avoid as they flew toward her apartment. “This is bullshit!”
“We’re almost there.” Clinging to his arm, she guided him between two fifty-story statues of Satan in his ugly beast form. She shuddered, as always, as the statues’ eyes followed them. “Bank right.”
“Are these apartment buildings?” He flapped his wings hard, but he could barely stay aloft. “They look like giant termite hills turned into beehives.”
She’d always thought so too. “Right there.” She guided him through an opening near the top of one of the structures and landed on the baked clay floor.
Cipher set down surprisingly gracefully and put away his wings as he looked around. “Nice place.”
“I guess.” She kicked off her boots. She’d always preferred to go barefoot at home, even if she was only there for a minute. “It’s no Heaven.”
No, the dwelling was an insult, and not entirely because, as a weakling and a newbie fallen angel, she’d been assigned the tiniest quarters available. It was also just a flat-out affront to the senses. Her house in Heaven had been sprawling and colorful, nestled in a private cloud that floated over a vast, turquoise sea. This...this was small and boring, but she didn’t have the motivation to decorate beyond the plush Persian rug in the middle of the room.
Decorating would signify some kind of permanence, and for some reason she didn’t want to give in to that kind of thinking, even though she’d basically sold her soul to Bael.