The Angel's Vow: A New Adult Urban Fantasy Series (Bloodcaster Chronicles Book 2)

by R. L. Perez

  Her fingertips trailed down my cheek, hovering over my lips. The gentle touch of her against my skin made me tremble. “I can take care of myself,” she whispered.

  “I know you can. But it wasn’t just you who was in danger. You needed help, Cora. It’s okay to admit that.”

  She nodded slowly. “Piper—she’s my half-sister.”

  I blinked, stunned. “What?”

  “Her mother was a dark witch. Quentin sacrificed her.”

  I flinched. “Merciful Lilith.”

  “He’s a psychopath, Vince. You need to be careful. He has no feelings. He sees nothing but power. And he’s strong. Stronger than me.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “No one is stronger than you.”

  Amusement danced in her eyes, but she stared intently at me. “Stronger with his magic. I’m a skilled fighter, but that means nothing against Bloodcaster magic. Especially when I’m so out of practice from hiding for so long.”

  My hands moved to her waist, tightening around her like she was my lifeline. “You’re not alone anymore, Cora. I’ll fight with you. We’ll take him down together.”

  “How?” she breathed. “I saw you—you were broken. Dying. You can’t stay in this realm for too long. And Quentin isn’t someone we can take out easily.”

  A knot formed in my throat as truth resonated within me from her words. I’d felt the pain—the agony splitting through my head, similar to when I’d accidentally time traveled to Cora the first time. The incidents were more spread out, but they were still there. Which meant either Mom’s magic was fading, or it wasn’t strong enough.

  I wondered if the other Reapers felt it too, or if I had just overexerted myself.

  Cora wove her fingers through my hair, and my scalp tingled from her touch. “I can handle my own pain,” she said quietly. “But I can’t handle yours.”

  I inhaled a shuddering breath, wounded by the agony in her eyes and devastated to think I caused that. I made her worry, made her go insane with fear.

  Just like she’d done to me when she’d been taken.

  This love was a dangerous thing. It made us act irrationally. It made us careless, reckless, foolish . . .

  Maybe there was a reason we’d been separated by realms. Because together, our love was too volatile. Too dangerous.

  Cora seemed to read my thoughts. “We can’t be together,” she whispered. The words sounded more like a statement than a break-up. Like she thought I didn’t know this.

  I nodded. My throat felt tight. “I know.”

  “When—when we find Quentin, you’ll have to go back with the Reapers.”

  “I know,” I said again.

  “We can’t.”

  “You said that already.”

  We stared at each other. She drew in a shaky breath, and I leaned in as if she were drawing me in as well.

  “Vince,” she whispered.

  “Cora.”

  Her mouth opened and closed, her eyes wide as they scanned my face. I’d never seen her like this before. At a loss for words. Frightened and anxious.

  Cora wasn’t scared of anything.

  Neither of us moved. My hands were still on her waist. Her fingers were still in my hair.

  Something electric moved through me, fueling a courage I didn’t know I had. I leaned in, and my mouth covered hers. A small sound of surprise escaped her lips, but I drank it from her hungrily. My hands snaked up her back. Her trembling fingers slid around me, clutching at the nape of my neck. A burning, living presence stirred within us, brought to life by our passion. I broke apart only to gasp for air before my lips were on hers again. Her fingernails dug into the back of my neck, and I knew she felt it too. The urgency. The demand for more.

  Our lips moved faster. Desperately. Her tongue flicked along mine, and I groaned against her mouth. She tugged on my belt loops until our hips met. Together, we staggered until I had her up against the wall, my hands braced on either side of her. She cried out, and the sound drove me mad. My lips moved to her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. My tongue slid along her skin, and she gasped, the sound ragged.

  As the heat between us churned and flowed like lava, as the agonizing desire built up more and more, I realized what had changed between us. Our love had shifted into something forbidden. Something impossible.

  And yet, we were willing to give up everything to save each other.

  A fiery, aching need pulsed between us. The need to protect. The need to touch, to kiss, to hold . . . Because we knew our time was limited. We’d be ripped apart again.

  There was only us, here, and now.

  Cora shrugged out of her jacket, her lips still locked onto mine. Her hands tugged at my shirt, lifting it higher and higher until her fingers trailed over the muscles of my abdomen.

  I almost stopped her. Alarm flared inside me, a warning. We’d never crossed this line before.

  But I needed her. I needed to feel her skin on mine. If I had to turn her away, if I had to watch her leave again, I felt like I would die.

  Her fingers unfastened my belt. Unbuckled my jeans. A shudder rippled through me from her nimble touch, her swift movements.

  She’d done this before.

  But I hadn’t.

  “Cora,” I rasped, the sound ragged and pleading.

  Her hands stilled, and she pulled away to look up at me. Her eyes, usually icy, were now on fire. She blinked as if coming out of a haze, then dropped her hands. “I—I’m sorry. We don’t . . .” She shook her head, her cheeks turning red.

  The vulnerability and shame that crept in her face was almost too much for me. And the fire in my body didn’t want us to stop. Even if she’d crossed this line and I hadn’t, even if it wouldn’t be as enjoyable as she was used to . . . The feverish pounding inside me demanded I keep going.

  I loved her. She loved me. That was all that mattered.

  In a swift movement, I lifted my shirt over my head and let it fall to the floor.

  Cora sucked in a breath, her eyes wide as she gazed at my bare chest. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm inside me, but it was like a stranger had taken over my body. I felt no fear. Only one thought resonated inside me: I wanted her.

  Cora removed her own shirt, tossing it onto the floor next to mine. My heart stopped for a full beat. Her black bra stood out against her pale skin. Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths that matched my own.

  I took her waist, drawing her hips to mine. My fingers trailed along the bare skin of her back. Her hands pressed into my shoulders. Every inch of me burned with a raging fire that consumed me.

  We were up against the wall again. Cora tugged at me, her legs lifting until they wrapped around me. I pressed into her, my hips grinding against hers. She moaned in my mouth, and I silenced her with lips and tongue and teeth.

  “Vince,” she gasped. She threw her head back, and I ran my tongue along her throat, my teeth finding her shoulder. Cora’s fingernails dug into my back as she cried out.

  Part of me just wanted to take her right here against the wall. Another part of me was almost brave enough to try it.

  But it was my first time. I had no idea what I was doing.

  Cora read the uncertainty in my gaze. She jerked her head to the left. “The bed,” she whispered.

  I nodded, carrying her to the bed and gently lowering her onto the sheets. She wriggled out of her pants and kicked them off. My own trembling fingers struggled with my jeans.

  “Here.” Cora scooted closer and unzipped my jeans before slowly pulling them off.

  My pulse roared loudly in my ears as I stepped out of them and crawled onto the bed with her.

  Her eyes met mine, searching. Questioning. I hovered over her, my hands pressed into the mattress on either side of her. Taking in her body—half-naked and barely concealed by the tiny black lace of her underwear—set my insides on fire. My nerves melted, leaving behind nothing but desire.

  I kissed her, pressing against her, feeling her body arch into mine. The fierce pound
ing inside me urged us onward. More, more, more . . .

  Suddenly, a heavy knocking sounded at the door.

  It was like dumping a bucket of icy water on me. I scrambled off the bed, my blood running cold.

  “Cora, you in there?” Benny’s muffled voice asked. “Piper’s awake.”

  I stilled, my gaze shifting to Cora. Her face was ashen, and she carefully slid out of bed before throwing her clothes back on.

  More knocking.

  “I’m coming,” Cora rasped. In seconds, she was dressed. She turned to look at me, regret and longing filling her eyes.

  Time seemed to stop, and for a brief moment, I wondered if I’d somehow triggered my powers. But no—that was just reality slamming into me in full force, and my mind took a second to catch up. Cora and I stood there, watching each other. A dozen emotions passed between us. The same desire screaming inside me shone in her eyes too. The same conflict of we-can’t-do-this mingled with I-love-you-and-want-you-now.

  And then, the solid reminder that it wasn’t just us and here and now. There were other things happening around us that needed our attention.

  The thought sent a mixture of guilt and self-loathing wriggling through me.

  I swallowed. “It’s okay,” I whispered to Cora.

  She offered an apologetic smile. Leaning in, she pressed a soft kiss to my lips—so chaste compared to what we’d almost done. For a moment, that same heat thundered within me, demanding more.

  But before I’d opened my eyes, she’d left the room.

  28

  Cora

  Idiot, idiot, idiot, each step seemed to say as I followed Benny to Piper’s room. What the hell had I done? Or rather, almost done?

  My coven was in danger. The Reapers’ lives were at stake. Quentin was destroying another realm entirely.

  Meanwhile, Vince and I were busy boning.

  The heat of shame filled my face. Benny’s stance in front of me was rigid, revealing nothing. Had he heard us? Was my hair a disheveled mess, completely giving me away?

  Idiot, idiot, idiot.

  Benny stopped, his eyes a guarded mask as he gestured to Piper’s door. “She’s waiting for you.”

  I didn’t move. Benny held my gaze, but his expression betrayed nothing.

  “Benny,” I said weakly, stepping toward him.

  He flinched, then composed his features again. In that half-second, agony flared in his face. I saw his grief. The still festering wound of losing his wife. His pack. Everything.

  It was like that wound had been re-opened.

  When he met my gaze again, a silent plea shone in his eyes. Drop it, he seemed to beg. As if saying the words would be too much for him.

  I nodded once and knocked on my sister’s door.

  “Come in,” a faint voice said.

  I strode inside without glancing at Benny. Bright lights streamed from within the room, and I squinted against the glow, thinking Piper was summoning some kind of magic.

  But no. She’d just turned on every lamp in the room. The floor lamp, ceiling lights, night lights, lamps on all the tables, the fluorescents . . . everything. I hadn’t realized how dark it was in the hallway until I entered Piper’s room.

  I opened my mouth to crack a joke about it, but then I saw her—huddled on her bed with her knees pressed to her chest, her eyes wide and her breathing ragged.

  My words died in my throat, and I saw the room through new eyes. She wanted every shadow illuminated. Every possible hiding place where her father could be lurking.

  I couldn’t blame her for that at all.

  “Hey,” I said gently, sitting on the edge of her bed.

  “Hey.” Her voice was hoarse. She rubbed her nose.

  “Are you hurt?” I asked. Stupid question. Of course she’s hurting. “I mean, do you need a healer? Or an elixir?”

  Piper shook her head. “No, I’m all right. Thanks.” Her eyes lifted to mine. “How’s Juliet? And her kids?”

  “Your aunt’s fine. And I’ve sent my guys to the kids’ school to look out for any trouble. They’ll bring them here when school gets out.”

  Piper shook her head. “They need to get here now. Quentin‍—‍”

  “Quentin will find them in a heartbeat if some strange yellow-eyed guys come and yank them out of school in the middle of the day,” I said sharply. “It’s too suspicious. A school full of witnesses is the safest place for them right now. When the final bell rings, and the whole campus is a chaos of kids getting home, that will be the time to slip away with them. It’ll be easier for my guys to get to them during all the commotion. Trust me.”

  Piper’s lips pressed together in a thin line, but she nodded. “Thank you.”

  Silence fell between us. I wasn’t sure what to say. I’d never been good at condolences or affection. My job had always been to get in, get out, no questions asked.

  But weeks of playing the role of coven leader, of forcing myself to care for my people—something in me broke at the lost expression on Piper’s face. I thought of the dark witch I hadn’t known very well and how headstrong and fierce she’d seemed.

  But Quentin had broken her. Just like he wanted to break me.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could, Piper said, “I’m sorry.”

  I frowned. “For what?”

  “For . . . stealing from you. Dragging you into this.”

  I offered a hollow laugh. I’d almost forgotten about the money laundering. “You didn’t drag me into anything. He’s my father too.”

  Piper winced. “I betrayed your trust.”

  I gave a half-shrug. “No harm done. I don’t trust anyone, anyway.”

  In spite of the terror still etched in her face, Piper’s lips quivered in the ghost of a smile.

  I sighed. As much as I wanted to leave her here to sort out her trauma, I needed answers. Time was not on our side.

  “I need to ask you about Quentin,” I said.

  Piper nodded again like she expected this.

  “How long have you known him?”

  “My whole life.”

  Everything inside me went still. Oh, Lilith, no. I’d been hoping it wasn’t true, that he had just appeared in her life like he had mine.

  “He raised me,” Piper whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. “I think he was waiting for Bloodcaster magic to manifest itself, even when I cast my first spell and it was black. He was always . . . hoping.”

  Bile crept up my throat. Piper had been nothing more than an experiment for him. Something to test and discard when he was done.

  “And your mom?” I asked.

  “I barely remember her. Flashes. Certain smells. Quentin sacrificed her when I was four.”

  Horror numbed my bones, and I swallowed down the agony clawing at my throat.

  “I’m not sure when things changed,” Piper went on. “But high school was when I saw him for what he really was. He used me for his dirty work, no longer caring that I wasn’t the daughter he hoped I would be. I smuggled things for him. Threatened his enemies. Everything he needed to remain anonymous but powerful.”

  She was his weapon, I realized. His Blade. Just like I was to Damien.

  “He never laid a hand on me,” Piper said, meeting my gaze. “Never hurt me . . . n that way. He was too smart for that. He knew that abusing me would break me, and he needed me to be strong. But there was no love in our relationship. At first, that was what I wanted from him, but eventually, it was fear and not love that motivated me. Fear because I remembered what he’d done to Mom and that would be my fate if I became useless to him.”

  A survivalist. Again, something within me resonated with her words. She did what she had to in order to survive.

  Piper continued, “Then, a few years ago, my aunt moved into town with her kids. Even though it was risky, I snuck out often to see her. And despite who I was and the terrible things I’d done, Juliet accepted me. She treated me like her own daughter. Every time I visited, I was reminded of what love shou
ld be. And I realized Quentin never loved me. And he never would.” She took a shuddering breath, her eyes shining with tears.

  My chest ached with sympathy. I knew how it felt to be alone and unloved. And to cling desperately to those who actually cared.

  “I thought I was being careful,” Piper went on, “but of course Quentin knew I was visiting Juliet. And as soon as he noticed my devotion to him was fading, he used Juliet as leverage.” She paused, her lower lip wobbling. “I knew he would do it—he would kill her. I didn’t have a choice, so . . . I kept working for him.”

  “What kind of jobs did he make you do?” I asked softly.

  Piper’s brows knitted together as she thought about this. “Mostly smuggling potion ingredients so he could make his elixirs. Occasionally, I helped him traffick powerful witches and warlocks for . . . for . . .” She trailed off, her voice trembling.

  “For sacrifices,” I finished.

  Piper nodded, her expression crumpling. “At the time, I j-justified my actions, claiming it w-was either Juliet or them. I—I had to keep her safe.” She shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. “But that d-doesn’t stop the gnawing guilt from eating me up inside. Accusing me of b-being just as bad as he is.”

  “Piper, no.” I took her hand in mine. “You aren’t like him because you actually feel this guilt and sorrow. He doesn’t.”

  Piper dropped her gaze, and I knew she didn’t believe me.

  “What else?” I prompted.

  “I robbed a few places when he was low on cash. Took out some Second Tier demons who posed a threat to him.”

  My eyebrows lifted. She killed Second Tier demons? Impressive. “Which demons?” Maybe I could find a pattern of who he was targeting.

  “Mostly dark warlocks. A werewolf alpha here and there.”

  “What kind of dark warlocks?” I asked, remembering Damien targeting Vince because he’d wanted his time travel ability.

  Piper’s eyes lifted to mine. “Thinkers.”

  I went still. Thinkers were Telepaths like Luke and Benny. But Quentin wasn’t just targeting normal Thinkers—but Second Tier Thinkers.