Angel Bait (Angel Assassins #1)

by Tricia Skinner

  Let’s see how you enjoy getting eyeballed like traitors for a change.

  “How dare you make such a slanderous remark,” Puriel said.

  Jarrid shot the angel a hard stare. One or more of these assholes had struck a deal with the enemy. Talk about betraying Heaven’s laws. His hands twitched, missing the solid weight of his guns and daggers.

  “Our guess is Beleth planned to do a little recruiting from the inside,” Jarrid said. “The vampire mentioned they were partners, but we don’t know to what end.”

  Azriel rubbed his jaw. “Nephilim have every reason to want Heaven in chaos. This was never your home, and none of you belong here.”

  Tanis moved to stand next to Jarrid. “The Eternal Order can’t be bribed.”

  Cain stepped forward. “Or threatened.”

  “We don’t quit,” Kas said.

  “And we don’t grant mercy to our enemies,” Nesty said, his voice a low growl.

  Ionie slipped her tiny hand in Jarrid’s. “Let them do what they do best.”

  He puffed his chest and gave her hand a squeeze.

  “There’s a Renegade sympathizer in Heaven,” Tanis said, eyeing each board member in turn. “Without us, you’ll never flush him out. We have the means, and the resolve, to bring him to justice. Reinstate The Order.”

  The bewildered Directorate took furtive glances at their guards. Puriel cleared his throat. “We could agree to a probationary period, but that resolves only one of the crimes.”

  “You’re wrong.” All eyes landed on Nestaron. His silver gaze slipped to Ionie. “She’s nephilim.”

  Azriel screwed his face into a frown. “What trickery is this?”

  A surge of hope plowed through Jarrid’s soul.

  God of All, give this to us!

  “Ionie is Beleth’s descendent. She’s also human.” Tanis crossed to stand in front of the group. “Jarrid is accused of committing the sins of his father. He did not. He fell in love with another nephilim.”

  Azriel’s jaw unhinged, mouth gaping. The collective intake of breath by the rest of the Directorate was like the ocean receding from land before a tidal wave crashed down. No one moved.

  Puriel looked at his comrades as if willing one of them raise an objection. Jarrid narrowed his eyes at Azriel. The angel had succeeded in keeping Beleth out of Heaven, but he’d never stop trying to destroy The Order. If he formed an argument against Tanis’ claim, his and Ionie’s slim chance would wither.

  Azriel closed his mouth, turned on his heels, and stomped from the chamber.

  “By decree of the Holy Host,” Puriel said, lifting his chin, “we hereby grant probationary reinstatement of The Eternal Order and task them with upholding Heaven’s will.”

  The angel glanced at Ionie. He tipped his head, studying her.

  “The half-breed, Ionie Gifford, may return to Earth, but must remain in the company of The Order.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  After returning to the Stronghold, Ionie had made a hurried excuse and slipped away. Jarrid had let her go.

  Now he rested his head against the entertainment room wall. He’d wiped out death squads in Chechnya, cut down slave traders in Sudan, and snuffed rogue angels. One human woman shouldn’t scare him.

  Kas strolled over to the bar, grabbed a beer, and sat across from him. “Bro, I’m scared of her right now. You see those five hell beasts living with her?”

  “Grow a pair, man. Those are Great Danes, the gentle giants of the dog world.”

  “Dogs I don’t have to stoop to pet can’t be good. One checks me out like I’m a snack.”

  Jarrid’s lips curved up.

  “Seriously, sorry to mind snoop, but you owe it to Ionie to apologize in private.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Phil.” Jarrid pushed off the wall and headed to the exit. “And if you read my mind again without permission, I’ll dip you in bacon grease and let the pooches out to play.”

  He took determined steps across the main hall and up the stairs until he reached Ionie’s room. He hadn’t knocked before her furry protectors announced his presence. Jarrid pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  Five dogs formed a semi-circle around him, barking like he was a shit out of luck burglar. She sat at a small desk, her laptop open.

  “I didn’t know you were working.”

  “Hush,” she said. One dog kept barking. Ionie crossed over to it and made a move with her hands. The white dog quieted. “Just sending my editor an email.”

  “Sign language is a useful skill,” Jarrid said, impressed. His breath caught when Ionie glanced at him. So beautiful. She had pulled her hair back from her face, allowing him a clear view of her slender neck.

  “What do you want?”

  “You have a right to hate me. But I’m going to tell you my side of things.”

  “Now isn’t a good time, Jarrid.”

  He stiffened and the dogs growled a warning. Great. Another audience. “I want to apologize again. What I said in Heaven was true. I should have told you sooner.”

  “Why didn’t you? I had to hear it from my kidnapper.” A sob escaped her throat.

  Jarrid stepped closer. Her eyes glimmered as the light caught the reflection of her tears. He tried to find something in his training to ease her, but standing there, watching her cry, destroyed the last of his armor. An image of his mother flashed into his mind. He hadn’t thought of her much, always shutting down his memories of her last night alive.

  His gut clenched and twisted. Mother. How could he have forgotten how much she loved him? After her death, the loneliness had been profound. He would have despaired if not for Tanis. Now here he was, facing a woman who’d trusted him and had shared her love. He would lose her, too.

  He dropped to his knees, unable to hold his weight. His body trembled. It felt like a wall crashed around him, burying him in centuries of loss and regret. Jarrid shuddered as his emotions assailed him. “I … I’m sorry, beloved. I’m so sorry.”

  Delicate fingers cupped his chin, urging his head up. Jarrid gazed into Ionie’s face. His vision blurred. Confused, he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, surprised to find it wet.

  • • •

  Ionie fought to force air into her lungs. Jarrid, the most powerful man in her universe, kneeled in front of her. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Fathomless longing stared up at her, open and fierce.

  He really loves me. Her hands shook. “I’m sorry I wouldn’t listen before, but I was scared.”

  Jarrid went rigid. “Of me?”

  She bit her lip. “I was afraid of what Saul told me. I didn’t want to believe him. Assassins don’t usually take women out for barbecue, do they?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t know about your day job. You made me laugh. You showed genuine interest in getting to know me. Then Saul told me I was only bait. It hurt.”

  “I’ll never forgive myself for that,” Jarrid said, lowering his eyes.

  Ionie wanted to be angry, but how could she? A warrior was trying to apologize to her. Christ, she wasn’t heartless. She had half a mind to lean down and kiss his sad lips. One thing stopped her. If there was any hope for them, she needed to know. “It’s forbidden for humans and angels to … get together, correct?”

  He nodded.

  “What about two nephilim?”

  Jarrid didn’t answer right away. Her stomach clenched. The Directorate enforced Heaven’s laws. If they sent an army to destroy angels, women, and children who they believed broke those laws, what hope did she and Jarrid have?

  He rose to his feet and skimmed his fingers down her face and neck. His eyes heated with desire, and she found herself mesmerized by the power within them.

  “There’s never been a female nephilim” Jarrid said, his
voice a delicious rumble in her ears. “You are mine, Ionie Gifford.”

  He molded his lips to hers in a smoldering kiss. Ionie melted against him, consumed by need, and ran her hands up the broad expanse of his back. The muscles rippled under her touch.

  Jarrid lifted her and moved to the bed. There, he set her down. She mewled in protest when his lips left hers, only to sigh when he grasped the edges of her shirt. Her nipples hardened when he rubbed the pad of his thumb over them. Ionie forgot her own name when he cupped her right breast in his palm, kneading it. She arched into the sensation and sucked on his wet tongue. He tasted delicious, like rain after a storm, and she couldn’t get enough.

  Her fingers tugged at his T-shirt until her hands met skin. Jarrid’s abs felt sensuous as she rubbed them. God, he was perfect in every way, and he belonged to her. The thought made her dizzy.

  “I need you, beloved,” he said, his voice a rasp in her ear.

  Jarrid kissed her again, this time soft and gentle. The heavy thud of his boots sounded distant, as did the denim sliding down his legs. She glimpsed down at his naked body in hunger. Her eyes peeked at him through heavy lashes.

  “Lay down,” Ionie said, thrilled when Jarrid stretched across her bed, his body exposed to her greedy gaze. She wrapped her fingers around his swollen manhood, never moving her eyes from his. She pumped her hand.

  “Fuck!” he said through gritted teeth.

  Ionie kept her hands tight, sliding upward, his arousal lubricating her strokes. Jarrid threw his head back, his sexy stomach trembling. His hands gripped the mattress like an anchor. The veins in his neck corded with strain. Nothing could ever look as sexy as her assassin.

  She leaned forward and flicked her tongue against him. Jarrid howled, his seed erupting in thick streams. Watching him orgasm sent an ache through her. No matter what happened, she’d do anything to stay with him forever.

  • • •

  Jarrid pulled Ionie against his body. With one hand, he yanked off her jeans and panties, flinging them across the room. Her slender legs entwined his, her toned form soft in all the right places. He indulged himself, squeezing her butt between his hands, just to have her grind her smooth skin against him.

  Ionie was curvy perfection. Jarrid loved the little sounds she emitted as her pleasure grew. He rolled her onto her back, and then used his height to his advantage. At this angle, he could touch her from head to calf without shifting.

  “I’d like to practice what you’ve taught me,” he said, brushing his fingers through the curls at her apex. Ionie moaned. His fingers circled and teased. She wiggled her hips, trying to make him abandon his methodical exploration.

  “So impatient,” Jarrid said, chuckling. He leaned over to suck on her breast. Ionie cried out, sending blood rushing to his cock. He peppered her chest with kisses, enjoying the thin layer of sweat that appeared. He licked her stomach in slow, even strokes until satisfied she was ready for what came next.

  Two fingers slipped inside her, making Ionie bow off the mattress with a weak cry. He worked her slowly, adding a third finger, until she thrashed her head, lost in desire. His dick bounced, desperate to be inside her.

  Jarrid gripped himself, positioning at her opening. Although he’d made love to her once before, he had to keep control. She thrust up when he breached her, forcing him to pin her hips to the bed.

  “Christ, don’t move or I’ll hurt you!”

  Ionie’s eyes glowed with wildness. “Fuck me, please!”

  His world came undone. Jarrid pushed inside her in one, slow glide. His brain exploded from the intense pressure that gripped him. Deeper and deeper he went, filling her body with his thickness. He shook with strain.

  “More!” Ionie said, widening her legs.

  Jarrid sank into her, giving her what she wanted — what he needed her to have. His Grace surged inside him, pulsing behind his eyes.

  “Yes!” she said. “Make love to me.”

  Jarrid rolled his hips, gasping at the exquisite friction of their joined bodies. He lowered his head and pumped into Ionie’s tight body. Over and over, she matched his thrusts, building the rhythm until his hips snapped forward, hard and relentless as he took them closer to their own Heaven.

  Ionie was his. He’d fight every angel in creation to keep her.

  Jarrid thrust his tongue into Ionie’s waiting mouth, hungry to taste her kisses. He wrapped his Grace around her, a vow. He would protect her with his soul.

  Ionie cried out his name, her orgasm shattering around them. Her inner muscles milked him until he, too, flew apart in her arms.

  As the last of his orgasm faded, Jarrid curled his arm around Ionie’s waist and pulled her to his side. His right leg locked over hers. He kissed the top of her head and breathed in her citrus scent. She released a contented sigh.

  Jarrid continued kissing her until her even breaths told him she’d fallen asleep. He closed his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Jarrid toweled his hair and strolled out of the bathroom. He picked up the note Ionie left on the desk.

  “Back soon. I love you.”

  He smiled. Then his stomach growled like a lion. If he didn’t get something to eat, he’d die of starvation in the next three minutes. He shoved his wet hair away from his face. Where the hell did he throw his jeans? He thought back to last night, grinning. Making love to Ionie multiple times a day had left his closet empty.

  Shit, my turn to do laundry.

  “Bowie, you laying on my shirt?”

  The Great Dane raised her long neck, peeked at him, and then settled back on the mattress with a huff of breath. No help there. He stomped over to the desk chair, sniffed a blue t-shirt, then slipped it over his head. Jeans buckled, he walked out of the room. Bowie lumbered after him, yawning.

  He arrived at the kitchen, ready to raid the fridge, when he heard Nestaron laugh. Jarrid passed his brother, who was seated on the floor, scratching Echo’s head. The deaf dog had picked the quiet assassin as her pet, a role Nesty enjoyed.

  The fridge was a wasteland.

  “Whose turn is it to get groceries?”

  “Cain’s up,” Nesty said.

  Jarrid grabbed a sad-looking apple and went in search of the blond assassin. The entertainment room loomed ahead. He found Kas curled on the couch with QT. The elegant Dane’s head rested on Kas’s thigh while he clicked the cable remote.

  “Where’s Cain? I’m starving.”

  Kas shrugged without looking up. “The last time I found him my way, he fed my Grinder’s to Ky. Dog-chewed boots dripping slobber is not a cool look for me, man.”

  Jarrid rolled his eyes and left. If he didn’t find Cain in the next 30 seconds, he’d eat his own boots. He took the stairs leading to Tanis’ office. Bowie lumbered after him. When he entered the study, he glanced at the glass dome encasing three black feathers. He liked Tanis’ trophy.

  “Do I need to ask?” the angel said.

  Jarrid smiled at Mighty Moe, the litter runt, stretched under the desk. All of the dogs had chosen one of the brothers — based on what, he didn’t know — and settled into their new home. He shook his head and left Tanis to his paperwork. The Directorate hadn’t sent any new orders, so The Order took the little break as a long overdue vacation.

  Footsteps echoed from the hallway leading to the garage. Ionie came into view, her arms laden with bags. She shot him a radiant smile. “Hey, gorgeous. Hungry?”

  The rich aroma of barbecued meat filled Jarrid’s nose, his stomach rumbling in approval. Jarrid dropped to his knees in front of her.

  “If you propose to me because of Jimmy’s barbecue, I’ll feed these to Bowie,” Ionie said, giggling.

  “What if I eat first, and then propose to you on a full stomach?”

  Ionie laughed and sh
oved at his outstretched arms. He loved every sound she made. Jarrid rose, taking the bags from her, and placed them on the floor. He gave Bowie a warning glare. “Don’t even think about it.”

  The dog sat down, her tail tapping the floor. He ignored her. His hands wrapped around Ionie’s curvy waist. “My starvation can wait. Have I told you today how much you mean to me?”

  Ionie blushed under his gaze. “You tell me every day.”

  Jarrid leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. His tongue lapped at hers in gentle strokes. “My soul is yours. You’ve given my life meaning.”

  “I love you, Jarrid,” Ionie said, her smile brighter than the sun.

  “And I love you. With you, I have found my wings.”

  About the Author

  After spending several years as a newspaper reporter and corporate communications director, Tricia Skinner cast off traditional journalism for the freedom of fiction writing. Angel Bait is her urban fantasy romance debut. Her reading tastes are all over the place, but she’s mainly drawn to fantasy (and its subgenres), paranormal, sci-fi, and history.

  In those rare moments when she’s not writing, Tricia is a newbie “green” practitioner, a fitness procrastinator, and a technology geek. She is a mother and a wife. Her family includes two Great Danes.

  Tricia is the Web Editor for Pony Express(ions), the online literary journal of the Masters of Liberal Studies Program at Southern Methodist University. She also volunteers with SMU’s The Writers Path. In December 2012 she received a master’s degree in Creative Writing from SMU.

  She welcomes correspondence from readers. Visit her online at www.TriciaSkinner.com, or www.facebook.com/AuthorTriciaSkinner.

  In the mood for more Crimson Romance?

  Check out In This Life

  by Terri Herman-Poncé

  at CrimsonRomance.com.