by Laura Kaye
She yanked free and shoved him in the chest, a fierce heat rising within her blood. His lips parted in surprise, revealing a hint of fangs longer and thicker than her own—typical of the male half of the species. The sight accelerated her heart rate along with her burst of temper. How dare he do this?
Hissing through her own fangs, she whispered, “Your life wasn’t dangerous enough? You had to go and paint a bigger target on your back?”
Being a Guardian put him on the front lines when dangerous humans attacked. He was significantly upping his chances of getting killed.
Dream or no dream, relationship or no relationship—after rescuing Bryce, Jett would always be a treasured part of her and her little brother’s life. To ever see him laid out in the mausoleum would chip off a piece of her heart, and under the crushing pain of her older brother’s death, the image was too much to bear.
She pivoted on her heel and hurried under the stone archway, joining her family.
The parents and siblings of the murdered children also occupied the grand room with its cathedral ceiling. The four urns sat under white veils, the moonlight from the stained-glass windows adding a shadow of color, a whisper of the lives that had once been.
She held her mother as the time-weathered demon collapsed to her knees and sobbed, the sounds cutting in the acoustic space, joining the weeping of the other mourners. Though aging, as humans would recognize it, had just started to kick in for the five-hundred-year-old, giving her hair gray streaks, the stress of the last couple days had taken all the color from her skin and left her thin and brittle in Lexine’s arms.
Lexine held her own tears back. She stepped aside so her father could hold her mother. Sitting next to the largest veil-covered urn, she pulled Bryce into her lap and hummed in his ear.
Gradually, the room grew quiet, the steady decrescendo the only mark of passing time. Her mother took Bryce, and Lexine leaned against the wall. Pain filled her body, but she could not, would not, let it out.
“It’s okay to cry, sweetie,” her father whispered.
“I can’t. It’s too…final.”
He took her hand. “Jac’s gone.”
She squeezed his hand, but pulled away and ran out the back door of the mausoleum. In the cool night air, her knees gave out and tears broke free.
So much for being strong.
Warm weight settled against her side and over her shoulders. Jett sat in the grass with her, flames licking down his arms. He lifted her and resettled them in a private corner created by the stone steps and the wall, and she didn’t protest. She gave in to the hypnotic comfort of the fire and leaned against him.
“You are strong, Lexine.”
Had she expressed that doubt out loud? She wiped at her face and held her breath in an attempt to dam the sobs.
He shook his head, his chin rubbing against her hair. “Let it out. You won’t feel better until you do.”
God help her, she did as he said. She gripped his jacket and set her grief free. Sobs shook her body, choked her throat, and continued until the sodden place they seeped from ran dry. She pulled away long enough to clean her face with tissues from her pockets. Steadied by Jett’s embrace, she shut her eyes and breathed in his scent. His flames caressed her cheek.
An owl lifted off from the mausoleum roof and disappeared over the trees in startled flight. Much larger silhouettes followed a moment later as the archangels headed home, the rustle of their feathers a harsh sound in the still night. She’d lost all track of time, but the colony’s vigil traditionally broke up at one in the morning.
Lexine leaned away. “Shouldn’t you be following them?”
“Lark cut me loose for the rest of the evening. My pre-sence with the family tonight was more ceremonial than anything else. My training starts at dawn.”
“Well, congratulations.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.
“Why does my decision upset you?”
“Because you seem intent on getting yourself killed.”
“They offered me a purpose that will outlast Lawrence. I accepted.”
“After not even speaking to anyone for months?” She sighed, gripping his shoulders. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled you’re joining the community, but a Guardian?”
“For the archangels.”
“That’s worse.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s nothing more dangerous.”
“I’m in training. If it will work out remains to be seen. I want more in my future than brook trout, wild berries, and no one but the squirrels to talk to. I’m not trying to get myself killed. I’m trying to start living.”
She rubbed her face. She’d be selfish to argue that point.
“You should go back inside.”
“I’d like to head home, actually.” She shivered and pulled the robe tight. “I could use some extra sleep.”
“I’ll walk you, then.”
“All right.” After ducking inside to check in with her family, she fell into step at his side, her arms folded.
“Do you give all new Guardians the same reception?” he murmured as the path curved around a large boulder in the forest, bringing them closer to the lakeshore. Intermittent lanterns hung from the trees, providing a reddish-orange glow.
“No. The Guardians have my respect. You’re no exception, especially after all you’ve done for Bryce. I just…”
“What?”
The words rushed out of her mouth. “One of my brothers was just murdered. The other, kidnapped. Poachers attacked the colony. Ginger is a dear friend and the constant threat that hangs over her family haunts me. It’s too much for me to see another person I care about added to the boiling water!”
He arched an eyebrow. “I’m a person you care about?”
“Of course. You saved my little brother.”
“Ah, so you’re just grateful.”
“I’m very grateful, but it’s more than that.”
He stopped. Unmoving, he stared at her, those eyes of deepest crimson richer in the darkness lit only by the lantern hanging above his head. “How so?”
“I want to kiss you again, Jett.” She pressed her palms to his chest, stood on her toes, and tasted his lips.
His arms anchored her waist to his and he parted her lips with his tongue. The sweet taste of his venom—more honey-like in flavor than her own—filled her mouth as his tongue slid against hers. She sucked on one of his fangs, drawing out more of the nectar. A tremor ran down her body.
One of his hands lifted and tangled in her hair; the other dropped and squeezed her ass. Despite his passionate grip, he eased off, kissing her with leisurely strokes of his lips. His tender caress eased the tension out of her muscles.
She ran her hands down his arms, over the unmistakable lumps of knives under his jacket. A Guardian for the archangels, but how could that be? In her dream, he’d been her mate. Lark had never taken a mate, had never even indulged in courtship as far as she knew. Most of the Guardians had families, but Lark, and now Jett, had a responsibility that owned and defined their lives.
Certainly he wouldn’t fail the training, would he? Knowing what he’d done for Raphael in the past and feeling the coiled strength beneath her hands, the idea that he’d fail seemed absurd.
The future in the dream was easily changed, after all. The thought left her with an ache in her chest. She’d barely started getting to know him, had gotten just a taste of where things could go between them. Now the potential was gone, snuffed out like a tiny flame.
But, he deserved to do well. He’d been through so much.
She broke the kiss, her fingers lingering on his shoulders. “Good luck tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” He offered her his arm and resumed walking. “As soon as I have time, I want to see you again.”
She bit her lip. He’d have no such time. “I look forward to it.”
Chapter Twelve
“Savages,” Jett said, coughing on water as he threw h
is bound hands over the edge of the large canoe. Three weeks had passed since the funeral—one continuous training session except for a few precious hours of sleep. “Vicious, evil degenerates—”
“Hold that thought.” His blond head haloed by the first colors of dawn, Devin lifted Jett by the arms and shoved him down. Again.
Jett had been in the water long enough that the cold no longer bothered him—he’d gone numb. His lungs and muscles burned. Using a whole-body writhing motion that he’d perfected since the moment Devin had first tossed him overboard with hands and ankles bound, he propelled himself back to the surface. This time, he stayed the hell away from the boat, so he’d have a moment to catch his breath.
Devin grinned with satisfaction, as if he’d been waiting for Jett to make that move. “You’ve shaved off half your time. Excellent.”
Fighting to keep his head above the surface with his hands and feet bound, Jett heard a different voice.
“Start the fire now,” Lawrence insisted.
Shivering, thirteen-year-old Jett tried to climb out of the icy bath. Hands grasped his shoulders from behind and pushed him back down, chin-deep in the water. Answering from behind the metal gag that clamped around his head, he managed, “I c-can’t.”
Oh, he wanted to. Wanted to light up the entire room, especially his keepers. But the water left his ability useless, as the scientists apparently wanted to prove.
Lawrence and the two men in white coats murmured to each other in low voices. One of them, the balding one with the mustache the size of a rat, shook his head. “Make sure.”
Firm hands pushed Jett’s head beneath the surface.
“Still with me?” Devin’s brow furrowed.
“I fucking hate water.”
“Of course you do,” Devin said. “We all do. But not as much as the archangels hate it.”
Jett coughed, focusing on the here and now. If he told Devin to fuck off and swam to shore, no one would stop him. So, he didn’t. The freedom made all the difference. “Why the archangels?”
“Imagine one of them face down in the water.”
A chill that had nothing to do with the cold lake ran down Jett’s spine. With their wings, it’d be impossible to right themselves. “I’d hope they’d stay away from water at all costs.”
“Yes. They avoid it with as much enthusiasm as they avoid lightning storms. But, a few decades ago, an archangel in Canada’s demon colony tried to rescue a civilian demon caught in a flash flood and ended up in the water herself. The archangel’s Guardian wouldn’t have been able to haul her out of there if he’d been only a mediocre swimmer.”
Jett shut his eyes and nodded.
“Also, we can’t put it past poachers to use water to their advantage. Anyone seeking to harm archangels or demons will utilize water if they have the opportunity. It’s an element you need to master.” Devin bent and retrieved an object from the floor of the boat. The small, round capsule lit up with blue light. He tossed it into the water, and it sank. “Fetch!”
After hours in the lake, Jett sat on the rocks high above the shore, naked to the waist, toweling himself. The sun had risen high, warming his skin, necessitating sunglasses. Devin had disappeared into the archangel house after announcing that Vin was on his way to lead a session.
He stared at his hand, where Lexine had bitten him weeks before. The marks had faded, but like their kiss, he still felt the moist heat of her. Felt her both shudder and hold him tight.
He had to touch her again. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself. The sooner the better, if he wanted any level of control at all.
“Morning, Guardian.” Footsteps on the rocks accompanied the rustle of feathers.
Jett ran the towel over his hair. “Never, ever, go near the water for any reason.”
Raphael laughed. “Have fun this morning?”
“Devin sure knows how to have a good time.”
“Once in the water was enough for me, don’t worry. Years ago, Lark insisted on a water lesson to learn some tricks to help keep myself alive if a real situation arose.”
“Where is Lark?” Jett scanned the trees.
“He’s never far, but he keeps as much distance as he can, as often as he can. As grateful as I am for the Guardians, twenty-four-hour protection can be a difficult thing.”
“I know what it’s like to always have someone watching.” Jett fought the deep urge to cover himself with the towel, the memories crawling over his skin like insects. “I don’t think a single second of my life in the lab wasn’t monitored and recorded.”
Raphael flicked his wings. After a pause, he said, “When you have a break in your training, you should go to the town hall, second floor. You’ll find an office on the far side of the atrium. The guard knows to let you in.”
Jett cocked his head. “Whose office?”
“Dante’s.”
“My father’s?” He wiped his clammy hands on the towel.
“It’s there whenever you’re ready. He founded Sanctuary and personally trained all the Guardians who protected it until his death. He wrote everything down, and as part of your training, you need to read his original words. His journals and other personal effects are there, too.”
Jett chewed the tip of his tongue between his incisors, making his mouth moist enough to speak. “Thank you—”
A feminine shriek split the air and grew louder. A shadow shot across the ground, accompanied by wind. Wren careened overhead. The pseudoterrified scream from the woman in his arms broke up into laughter as they disappeared over the trees.
“Is that safe?” Jett got to his feet, staring in the direction the young couple had disappeared. The worst-case scenario played through his mind. If poachers invaded the forest, both Wren and Ginger could be killed with one well-aimed bullet. So quick. “Where are the twins?”
Raphael stretched his wings, the pure-white feathers blinding in the sunlight. “Devin is upstairs with the twins, and Wren is a strong flier. What good is flight if you only use it to go from point A to point B?”
“If poachers—”
“Lark is in the forest. He has our trust, as do you.”
With that, the archangel beat his wings in furious movement and leaped off the rocks. He skimmed the water before rising into the air and vanishing over the opposite side of the lake.
Jett shook his head, his chest constricting, the tightness suffocating. The archangels would be safest inside, but what were they fighting for, if not the freedom to live, really live? Jett would be the last person to force them into another prison.
Perhaps the hardest part of being their Guardian would be accepting that he couldn’t protect them from everything.
…
Lexine wandered through the winery, a glorified barn on the edge of the apple orchard. Clean and weather-tight, the scent of apples permeated the small building. The heirloom varieties used for winemaking had ripened the week before, and she had occupied her time picking. Crates of the fruit lined the wall, ready to go.
She climbed the stairs to the second level, a single space like the first floor. The wine bottles that Jac reused every year were reposed in boxes.
Hmm. If she relocated the glassware, this would make an elegant studio apartment. The construction on the new residence building was underway, and she wasn’t impatient. This place, however, suited her better than the communal residences. Quiet. Sunshine. Located on a hilltop, the view from one window looked out over the orchard while the other showcased a sweeping panorama of the lake. As she stared, the white wings of one of the archangels streaked beneath the morning clouds.
Thanks to the winemaking needs, the building had plumbing and a small bathroom on the first floor. Not very girl friendly, but she could make it work.
Staring out the window, her fingers idly tracing a knot in the wood, she spotted Jett walking on the path below. What was he doing here? She lifted her fingertips to her lips.
She knew the expectations of a Guardian in training—total foc
us and almost impossible physical tasks—so she’d kept her distance. As she’d expected, he hadn’t sought her out, either. When she’d glimpsed him now and then, he was either in the lake, high in the trees, or covered in mud and bleeding, Devin nipping at his heels.
Jett stopped at the edge of the lawn and glanced up. He wore sunglasses against the bright morning glare, but with a shiver, she felt his gaze connect with hers. After a moment of stillness, he headed for the entry.
Cursing the lack of a mirror, she smoothed her hair and rushed downstairs.
Jett entered the winery, shutting the door behind himself. Clean and dressed in Guardian black, he removed his sunglasses. “Good morning, Lexine. I was told I’d find you up here.”
Casual words, but a far from casual tone. He spoke in a voice most would reserve for candlelit bedrooms.
She licked her lips. “I was getting a look at my new place.”
“You’re going to stay here?” He leaned against the lacquered pine wall, feet crossed at the ankles, hands in his pockets, staring at her. She caught a glimpse of the twin blades strapped to his waist, the idea of how dangerous and capable he was, an unusual thrill. She’d only ever dated civilians, and even the one who thought he was all big and bad lacked the power Jett commanded in his gaze alone.
“Yes. So,” she said, unsure what to do under the intensity of his stare, “they gave you a break?”
“Yes, but with an ulterior motive. Sometime tonight I start sparring with Lark.” His gaze stayed locked on her, traveling down her body and up again ever so slowly, his tone disinterested in his words.
“Sometime?” She wiped her clammy palms on her jeans.
“The point is to try to catch me off guard.”
Lexine shivered and glanced around.
“I was promised the daylight hours to myself.” His lips twitched. “There’re a few things I’ve been meaning to do.”
“Oh?” She knew her nonchalant attempt failed when his smile broadened, the expression sinful and full of promise.
She gave herself a mental slap. The raw, sexual vibe coming off him promised that this could get out of hand. Far out of hand. She needed to rein this in. Despite her desperate dating habits in the past, she’d never gotten sexually involved with a male without the hope of a committed relationship.