by Ivy Asher
He looks at me in challenge, and I give him a sigh. “Can you not be difficult right now?” I tell him. He just stares at me, of course, because Difficult is his middle name. “Get your hot ass in bed so I can get some sleep, or else I’m going to turn as cranky as you.”
“Looks like the bed is pretty fucking full,” he gripes.
“Oh, come on, there’s plenty of room. Unless you’re scared of a little cuddling?” I tease.
He rolls his fiery eyes, but he steps around the bed, just like I knew he would. Jerif can’t back down from a challenge.
“Move,” he snaps at Echo, but my shadow demon just gives him the finger without removing the arm that’s slung over his eyes.
Jerif places a knee on the bed and then maneuvers himself until he’s lying parallel to the padded headboard behind us, forcing Echo and Iceman to scoot down a bit, which makes Crux grumble about having their feet in his space. I laugh again as the four of them get situated. It’s a bit like a picky kid not wanting any of their different foods to touch on their plate.
Finally, after way too many minutes of them fucking with one other and being purposely obnoxious by shoving feet and elbows into each other, they settle down. Jerif plops a feather pillow in his lap for me to lay my head on, and I curl up on my non-injured wing side, basking in the feel of the four of them boxing me in. We each drop off into sleep within minutes, our steady, even breaths a soundtrack to my heart, reminding me that even though the Ophidian got away, we made it out alive, and that’s what matters most.
“Maverick, wake up.”
I get shaken awake by a gentle, cool hand, and my gray eyes blearily lift open.
I realize that I’m the last one still sleeping in the bed, and I rub my eyes as I sit up, noting immediately that my wing no longer hurts, not even with a dull throb. I glance at the arched top of it, and the feathered appendages spread out like they’re stretching after a long sleep. “It’s healed,” I say with a bit of awe.
“Yes, it healed well,” Iceman tells me, and I notice that he’s fully dressed in a gray button up and black slacks. “Sleep did you good.”
I look at the ticking clock hanging up on the powdery blue wall and see that it’s late afternoon. I must’ve slept for a good nine hours or so.
“Where are the others?”
“They went to get dressed. Nefta just woke up,” he tells me.
I immediately throw my legs over the side of the bed and stand. I’m still in the silk robe I fell asleep in, and I’m not sure where my clothes ended up, but I doubt Grumpy Lurch had the time to clean them already. “What can I wear?” I ask.
Of course, Iceman is always one step ahead. He nods over to a white wood table near the curtained window, and I walk over to it, finding a dark blue sleeveless crop top and a pair of soft jeans. There’s even underwear this time. No bra, but I don’t even know what size I am anymore or how I’d snap one on with my wings, anyway.
“Where’d you get these?” I ask with surprise as I start pulling my underwear and jeans on beneath the robe.
“We had Strut go pick some things up, just to hold you over until we can go to your house and get your things.”
I pause right before I undo the belt holding the robe closed and look over at him. “My things?”
His icy eyes are latched on where I’m holding the tie in my hands, like he’s just waiting for me to finish undoing it. I’m suddenly all too aware that only fabric separates my naked body from his. The sexual tension in the air thickens, and my vagina makes it known how uncool it is that Iceman and I haven’t had a chance to be together yet. I ache for him, not just physically, but in my soul. I want to connect with him on that intimate level. I just need life to stop trying to fuck with me so I can fuck with Rafferty in all the ways I want to.
I’ve had an automatic easy friendship with him ever since we first talked on the graveyard radio. We connected in this seamless way that just felt as easy as breathing. The more I got to know him and observe him, the more my respect and appreciation grew. He’s one of the best people I know, and he takes on the heavy responsibility of leadership with grace and patience.
I think I fell in love with him the moment he found me in my wrecked kitchen with my wrecked heart, and then he took care of them both with such care and gentleness. There was no judgment or need to fix my broken pieces. He simply accepted me, jagged bits and all.
Iceman finally seems to remember that I asked him a question, and his gaze comes back up to my face. “Yes, your things. I thought...I mean, we thought that you’d like to move in here with us?”
Worry etches the lines of his blue face, but my smile quickly eases it. “I would love to,” I say quietly before stepping over to him and wrapping him up in a hug. I let myself close my eyes and just breathe him in for an indulgent moment, relishing in the feel of his cool chest against my cheek as his arms wrap around me.
“I want to keep my house though,” I tell him. “It’s my parents’ house, the last thing I have left of them, and I can’t let it go.”
“We would never want you to,” he tells me, drawing me away so he can tip my head up to look at my face. “Which is why we already paid off the first and second mortgages. It’s yours. Free and clear, and no one can ever take it away from you.”
My mouth drops open, and my brain can’t seem to decide if it wants to dive into holy shit mode, feel incredulous, or pretend it doesn’t comprehend what’s going on. I shake my head, propriety demanding that I reject this gesture because it’s too much. I’m not the kind of girl who can let people do something like that for me. But then I realize that I’m not just some kind of girl, I’m a demon, and I’m in love with these Guardians. I’m not going to question the why or how of it, or taint their beautiful gesture by being anything but completely grateful.
Tears immediately fill my eyes, and I stand on the tips of my toes to press my lips against his. My kiss is reverent and filled with pure gratitude and appreciation. I don’t know what I’d do without him...without any of my demons.
His hands come up to cup my cheeks, and his lips just as gently press against mine. The kiss starts out like a soft cool breeze on a warm spring day, but it doesn’t take much for me to want to dive all the way into his cool lips. I thread his long beautiful blue hair through my fingers, gently grazing his horns as I wordlessly ask for more. He responds without hesitation and kisses me deeper, sweeping a cold tongue against mine and making me gasp.
The ache I feel for him blazes into a full blown blizzard of need, and all I can think about right now is how much I want us to explore each other with our mouths and hands. I want to feel his naked cool skin against mine and stare into his deep-ocean eyes as he fucks me. I want to discover which positions we like, what his skin sounds like slapping against mine, and what he looks like as he comes.
I have so many questions that can only be answered by his body being in mine and us finally being together in all the ways that we want, but life...is a prick.
Iceman pulls away and leans his cool forehead against mine. We both pant, and I can’t help but run my palms up his well-muscled torso. He cradles my head and smiles, like he can read my mind, and then places a kiss on my nose before stepping back. “Soon,” he promises, and the dark rumble of his voice makes me have to press my legs together.
“Just a quickie?” I ask, unable to pull away from his too tempting body.
Iceman chuckles. “I want to take my time with you, Maverick. Spend hours learning your body, making you come. I need time to wring the level of pleasure from your body that I want to. I will soon. You can count on it.”
I’m pretty sure if he just keeps talking like that, I’ll come, but I don’t press my luck. We have answers that we need, and who knows how long we can keep Nefta here to get them.
I sigh forlornly and Iceman chuckles at the sound.
I walk back to grab the shirt as I quickly drop the robe. I step into the crop top, pulling it all the way up and over my chest. It fits
snugly against my perky girls, showing off my peaked nipples that seem intent on trying to get Iceman to play with them. I try to pep talk my lady bits that if all goes well, we can have Iceman strip us out of these clothes later.
“Ready?” he asks, his voice huskier than normal.
“Yes,” I reply as I turn around to face him, and my hooded eyes let him know that I’m not talking about Nefta.
He smiles again, looking so damn handsome that I know my nipples aren’t going to go down any time soon. “Patience,” he chides teasingly before reaching down and grasping my hand to pull me out of the room and into the hall.
“Whose room was that, by the way?” I ask curiously as I walk beside him.
“Yours, if you want it. But you can pick any of the available rooms. That one is the largest...though I think we’ll need to get a bigger bed.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I think so too.”
I picture four King mattresses pushed together and me, just lifted and rotated to each demon throughout the night for snuggles. It’s a life I’m down for, and I’m excited to start building it with them. I thought maybe I’d feel sadder or more unsure about leaving my parents’ house, but I think I’ve realized that, as much as I treasure that house and have every intention of fixing it up and making it the best house it can possibly be, I’ve been stuck living someone else’s dream.
I’m ready for my own now.
24
I walk into the sitting room hand in hand with Iceman. We walk over to where my other demons are sitting or standing, watching Nefta sip coffee from a delicate china cup while holding the matching saucer.
The sight is somewhat comical, since she’s still slightly gory and wearing armor that’s looking a bit better than the last time I saw it. I’d guess Grumpy Lurch or someone did their best to clean the demon carnage off of her, but it’s still in the nooks and crannies, so I try not to focus on it too much.
I check on Taz on the couch, but he’s still out like a light. I wonder why Strut didn’t move them into beds, but then again, knowing him, he’s probably counting this room as a lost cause and wasn’t going to sully anything else with the battle grime the Nihil and Legion Angel are currently sporting.
“Your mates were just informing me of how the battle ended. I’m glad to see you on your feet and recovered,” Nefta tells me primly.
Iceman and I take a seat across from her. “How are you feeling?” I ask, unsure of where else to start.
“I’m fully recovered, thank you.”
Awkward silence fills the air for a beat, and then Nefta and I both start at the same time. “What the fuck am I?” I ask bluntly as she says, “We should just get to the point. No beating around the bush.”
We both pause, and I can’t help the chuckle that sneaks out of my lips. She smiles, only one side of her mouth lifting up, but it’s something, and I notice her visibly relax. I guess it’s safe to say that this is weird for both of us.
Nefta releases a deep breath, and I can almost feel the bone-deep weariness in it. She looks over at Tazreel to make sure he’s still out, and then her rich purple eyes land back on me. “Do you trust your mates?” she asks carefully.
“Implicitly,” I answer without hesitation.
She pauses for a moment, as if she wants to make sure I really mean it, and then she nods. “I wish this legacy wasn’t yours now too, but as much as I tried to keep all of this from you, it seems fate simply has other plans,” she starts, and I’m taken aback by the depth of regret and sorrow I see in her gaze. I feel like Nefta just let a wall down, and I’m all at once not sure if I’m ready to see what’s on the other side.
“I was supposed to be the last of our line. That’s what I intended anyway, before…” She gestures over to Tazreel. “Every member of my family is dead, and not from lack of trying to stay alive, but because once others become aware of what we are, they kill us. I was hoping to save you from that.”
My heart pounds in my chest as her words settle around me like an ominous fog, nerves making my body tense up. Nefta shakes her head as she looks at her cup, and I can still see that she’s battling within herself about telling me.
“I think we’re past the point of safely keeping me out of it,” I interject, willing to share the burden I can see her struggling with. I suspect I know where this is going, and although I don’t relish the thought of it, there’s nothing that can really be done about it. This is my life, and my time as a human is long over. “Morax knows, and in order for me to try and protect myself, I need to know more than he does.”
Nefta nods hollowly, as if she’s shoring up her resolve, and her eyes flick back to mine as she pushes away her thick braid of purple hair over her shoulder.
“We’re Annuli, Delta,” she tells me bluntly, and I can see that the word is some sort of curse to her.
I go still, waiting for the truth of what I am to come over me like a warm wave, or maybe it would be a cool shock, but nothing happens. Nothing in me recognizes what she just said. I look to the guys, but they appear to be just as confused as I am.
“Okay... Is that a fancy word for Gatekeeper? Am I a Grim somehow? I mean, I’m not ferrying dead people around, so I figured that would be a solid no, but what do I know, right?” I ask on an awkward chuckle, leaning in conspiratorially, because I don’t get what’s going on.
“No, you’re definitely not a Grim or one of the long dead Gatekeepers. An Annulus is very different. We are far rarer and more powerful. It doesn’t surprise me that your mates have never even heard the term. That’s how well the secret of our existence has been protected.”
“But what about the scythes?” I ask, perplexed and maybe a little in denial. I thought for sure all of this was building up to you are a Gatekeeper.
“Not only Gatekeepers use them, Delta,” she tells me, and I have to stop myself from arguing that I was told otherwise.
Shut up, Delta, and listen! So this isn’t going exactly where you thought it was, move on already. I take a deep breath and get my head back in the game. “Okay, an Annulus...what does that mean exactly?”
“Well, the easiest way to explain it is that you can reset souls. Among other things.”
“Reset?” Iceman asks, and I instantly feel better that I’m not the only one struggling to get it.
“When you scythe someone, you aren’t killing them in the mortal sense and moving them on to the next stage of their existence. You are either resetting their spirit back to its genesis—as though they’ve just been created—or you are completely erasing a soul and wiping it from all the realms, never to return again. Though that is much harder to do. It takes several Annuli to execute it, but nevertheless, these abilities were what Annuli were created for.”
I stare at her and simply blink for a moment.
“We were created to be neutral, to be a safety net that could ensure that no matter what, balance between both sides would always exist. If Heaven gained too much power, it was the responsibility of Angelic Annuli to deal with it. The same was true for Hell and the Demonic Annuli. Balance is key.”
“So all of the demons I’ve been killing…” I begin, trying to tamp down the worry filling up my voice.
“You’ve been resetting them,” Nefta finishes, in a tone that indicates she blames herself too for what’s been happening. “Sending their souls back to where they were created.”
“Well, shit,” Crux comments, leaning back into the couch and running his hands through his blond hair as the magnitude of all of this sinks in.
“Lucifer needs to bless you with a different Hell weapon to use, and you’ll need to learn to fight with both, as I do. The scythe will tell you when and how a soul needs to be dealt with. You and I will start working on that right away,” Nefta starts in, like aligning our schedules and working on training is suddenly the most important thing.
“Wait,” I say, completely overwhelmed. “So if I’m not a Gatekeeper, why would Morax...the Ophidian...whatever he goes by, want me?”
“Because he figured out something I didn’t know was possible,” she says, her purple eyes hardening. “You see, in the realms, we all have our duties. We go about doing what needs to be done, and we serve our purpose. But Morax was never okay with it. As kids, he loved to play God and ruler of all, but everyone just thought it was play. Morax “died” before he had to choose Heaven or Hell, and although it was sad, I never thought his passing was suspicious. It seems his play was so much more than we ever thought, and if he figured out how to create a new realm, then he’s been corrupting abilities for a long time.”
“Is that how he can override my brain like he does?” I ask, bewildered. “I thought we all had free will and choice, and that could never be messed with, but I don’t think he got the memo,” I point out.
“Morax has definitely corrupted something to enhance and alter what his bloodline was created to do. His ancestors were Impels, which were beings tasked with spreading the word of the Gods. They relayed important information about realm events, Job openings, Choices that were available to us, and so much more.
“They were blessed with the ability to amplify their voices, to be heard by a large crowd for instance, as well as to coax people into paying attention to the messages they were required to deliver. It was their responsibility to ensure all citizens of Heaven and Hell were aware of the right information, hence their gift to help citizens want to listen.
“Morax has altered it somehow. Distorted the gifts he was blessed with and tainted them in a way that’s allowing him to violate our most sacred rules. He shouldn’t be able to control, and yet, that’s exactly what he did.”
Nefta sets her cup and saucer down and rubs at her face. If we had a different relationship, a different past, I might have gone over and hugged her. But we’re strangers, even if we look so much alike and I have her blood flowing in my veins.