Gabriel_Salvation Ghosts MC

by Daniela Jackson

  “Sometimes. Even though the majority of them are dead.”

  “All of them are dead.”

  Rive shrugs. “So I don’t need to kill them.”

  There’s a moment of silence. I don’t know whether I should continue this conversation or not. I want to.

  “It sometimes hurts,” I say. “Burns.”

  “Life sometimes must hurt. You would be dead otherwise.”

  Yes, I find the sense in her words. “You’re right.” I stroke her arm up and down. “I want to be your best friend.”

  “We got a deal then.”

  “Yes, we got a deal.”

  A memory flashes through my head. “Tell your daughter, Talia, that your saber-toothed cat had a very long and happy life. He found a mate and he loved her. They had seven kittens.”

  Rive chuckles. “I will tell her.” She holds my hand in hers. “You’re so young, but you’ve always been here. That’s odd, Reagan.”

  “You’re odd too.”

  “We’ll be perfect best friends.”

  Gabriel

  I take a three-hundred-year-old bottle of whiskey out of the liquor cabinet. Our women are chatting in the bar, so Kadmiel and I can have something stronger in the kitchen. I open the bottle with a pop and the smell of three-century-old alcohol teases my nostrils.

  Kadmiel nods. “Your recipe?”

  “Raphael’s.”

  His eyes gleam as he tears the bottle away from my hand and takes a long pull straight from it. He wheezes and passes the bottle to me.

  “Good,” he rasps, as his eyes turn glassy.

  “The best.”

  “Ours is the best.”

  “Haven’t tried yours yet.” I take a gulp and wheeze as the alcohol burns down my throat. “So,” I start. I want to ask him a hundred questions and it feels kind of awkward because we were strangers to each other in the Past. We were General and Soldier. “Reagan, I mean—“

  “I know what you mean. You can’t hold a flame in your hand.”

  “No, you can’t.” I shove the bottle into his hand. “You’re a husband, father, grandfather.”

  “You want me to teach you on the art of keeping your wife happy?

  “Maybe you could give me a piece of advice or something.”

  “Make sure you’re a husband, father, and grandfather soon.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And when the little shit grows up and starts falling in love or talking about a marriage don’t come to me to complain.”

  “A marriage? You think my Lily?” Rage fills my chest. “Where do you bury them?”

  “Who?”

  “All the men who dare look at your daughters. You must bury them some place secret.”

  He lays his hand on my shoulder. “Gabriel, the little shit grows up and you have to grit your teeth. And then your kids have kids and you have to grit your teeth even harder.”

  “You think? Maybe finding a burial ground would be easier?”

  Cael tumbles into the kitchen. His face lights up at the sight of Kadmiel.

  “Long time no see, brother,” Cael says. He tears the bottle away from his hand and takes a long pull. “I need to tell you something.”

  “I’m all ears,” Kadmiel says.

  “It’s a long story,” Cael says. “I mean a really long one. But I need to tell you my story, you know. You’re a husband, father, grandfather. You know the stuff.”

  “Fucking hell,” Kadmiel mutters.

  Chapter 15

  Reagan

  My husband sways. Her husband sways. I roll my eyes and wince in disgust. The smell of alcohol drifting from them is horrible. Rive rolls her eyes too.

  “I love you so so so much, baby,” Gabriel mumbles.

  Cael grips Kadmiel’s arm as he spreads his wings, and they both vanish.

  “I guess, I’ll be riding my husband’s bike, tonight,” Rive says as her eyes flicker with excitement and she rubs her palms against her jeans.

  Gabriel kneels down in front of me and plants kisses on my tummy. His arms wrap around my waist. His hands wander on my ass, squeeze it, and knead it.

  “Good luck with your drunken husband,” Rive says with humour.

  I chuckle. “Good luck.”

  Rive waves her hand to me. “See you soon.”

  “See you soon, my best friend.”

  She smiles as she corrects her blue leather jacket. She nods at me, exits the bar, accompanied by the soft sounds of her knee-high boots, and soon, the roar of a bike engine comes to my ears.

  A desire sprouts in my chest. I want to ride my own bike.

  I stroke my husband’s head. “You need to go to bed.”

  “I need to fuck.”

  “You can barely stand on your feet.”

  “I need to fuck you, woman.”

  He rises to his feet, sways and falls down. He lands on his butt. Cael returns with the rustle of his wings, and hooks Gabriel under his arms with his hands.

  “I’m dealing with him,” Cael says.

  “Thank you.”

  “Men sometimes must get drunk.”

  “I know.”

  “Don’t be mad at him.”

  I shrug. “I’m going to serve him a day or two of silence, that’s all.”

  I’ve read about relationships—romance books mostly. I should be angry with him. He should ask me for forgiveness then. Finally, we should end up in bed. After a wild night together, he should buy me a motorcycle.

  “Two days is enough,” Cael says. “You know, when you’re angry with him, he’s grumpy towards his club brothers.”

  “Alright. One day then.”

  “Thanks. You’re great.”

  I really like Cael. He’s so kind, warm, and gentle.

  He is such a good and caring husband. He loves her, making my sense of guilt more bearable.

  Cael

  Two years and three months earlier.

  She stares at me with wild eyes as her muscles shiver.

  “Maybe we could bathe you, huh?” I say.

  She tilts her head as her long red hair waves like a scarlet curtain touched by the summer breeze. Like a flame touched by the summer breeze. Her black, bat-like wings flap, and she sweeps her clawed little hand.

  “There’s blood on your skin,” I try to reason with her.

  She growls and sweeps her hand again—like a furious kitten.

  “Can you even talk?” I squat down in front of her.

  She retreats into the corner of the room, so I follow her. Trap her. I need to wash the blood away from her body. I need to teach her obedience. Or she’ll die. Raphael was very clear on that.

  She has killed seven men.

  It doesn’t matter that they were all scumbags.

  It doesn’t matter that she wanted to protect Reagan.

  She took human life.

  I’m going to keep her in this guest room that’s situated in our basement. I’m going to make her behave as a good girl would. She will obey. She will respect life. I love challenges.

  My homeless are challenging—broken, defeated, furious. Stripped of hope. Stripped of dignity. But watching them rise fills my chest with pride and the sense of fulfilment. I like helping humans. I’m very eager to help my little bat.

  “Listen…” I extend my arm and grab her wrist. “You even have a name?”

  She tries to merge with the cracked wall behind her. A drop of water splashes against her forehead. Her glance travels to the pipe above her head.

  The strap of her black dress lowers and exposes her breast. My dick twitches in my pants. She has beautiful breasts. Her skin has an olive colour, and her eyes shine dark green like moss in the woods. She looks like Reagan. And she doesn’t. Her irises keep changing the colour. They can be black, dark green or icy blue.

  Gabriel named Reagan, so I should probably name her.

  “Aurora,” I say. “Your name is Aurora.”

  Her lips curl into a smile.

  Fucking hell.


  She’s really pretty.

  Yeah, she’s a pretty little killer.

  “I’m gonna put you into the shower cabin, Aurora. Okay?”

  She tilts her head, flashing me an innocent smile. Then she jumps towards me.

  It’s so funny that I lie flat on my back and allow her to straddle my chest. She sweeps her hand, trying to rip my throat out, but I wrap my arms around her and pin her down to my chest.

  I roll over so she’s on her back, and I’m on top of her.

  “So, you want to challenge an archangel? Bad Aurora.”

  I see the rage in her eyes. It turns me on even more. It shouldn’t, but it is.

  I should be neutral.

  An average human man would be disgusted, but, as an archangel, I’m always neutral. I was always neutral.

  Until Aurora.

  “If you are a good girl, I’ll be nice to you.”

  She turns her face to the side. I see tears in her eyes—as big as raindrops. They shine like diamonds. Something stabs my heart.

  Her body softens, and I sense sadness from her.

  “Hey, Aurora.” I put my hands on either side of her head and stroke her, and then I hold her chin, and turn her face to mine. “That shit? It is not your fault, okay? We’ll fix this. You won’t feel the urge to do this ever again.”

  More tears flow from her eyes, and something happens to me. I lower my head and press my lips against hers.

  She wiggles beneath me, but I kiss her deeper. My tongue thrusts in and strokes hers. I feel her little fangs lengthen. She gasps into my mouth as her thighs press against my hips and she tries to shove me off.

  “You’ve always liked wild chicks with claws and fangs,” Michael says behind me.

  “Fuck off,” I growl, tearing my mouth off Aurora’s plump lips.

  Aurora sweeps her hand, and I feel my cheek burn from her claws.

  Michael erupts into laughter. “She really likes you.” He tosses his shoulder-length blond hair back. “Thought you needed help, but it seems like you can manage.” A wide grin crosses his face.

  “Yes, I can manage,” I growl.

  I bunch Aurora’s wrists so she doesn’t smack me again.

  “Raphael said one month,” Michael says.

  “I know.” I sit up and set my little pet against my back. “I’ll make a good girl out of her in three weeks.”

  “Good luck then,” Michael says and walks off.

  I wrap my arms around Aurora and dive into her mind, but there’s a black wall that forbids me from reading her thoughts and memories. My little pet is a side effect that should have never been born. She’s beyond my authority.

  We should have killed her, but since we’re retired we don’t follow the protocols any longer.

  “I’ll bathe you and feed you,” I say.

  I’ll take care of her out the best I can. Maybe my care over her will change her nature.

  I rise to my feet and grab both her hands in mine. Her wings flap as I drag her into the bathroom. She squeals like a little animal and that causes uneasiness to sit on my chest. I turn on the water and fill the bathtub.

  “Be a good girl,” I warn.

  She stops fighting at last. I pull her dress over her head, tearing it apart, and I toss it onto the black tiled floor. Aurora drops her head and hugs herself. Her body shakes. She cries quietly like she is ashamed of her nakedness. She shouldn’t be. Her nakedness is beautiful.

  My eyes flick over her unshaven little mound and her slim thighs. She is pretty—a pretty little thing. A pretty chick with claws and fangs and wings. She reminds me of gargoyles, but they’re harmless unlike her.

  She jerks her hand up and clutches a piece of her wing, pulling it down and wrapping it around her chest. That pisses me off. I want to see her naked body. It’s… mine, now and in the future.

  “Jump into the bathtub,” I growl.

  She shudders and obeys me. Water splashes against the floor.

  Aurora

  It’s warm. Pleasantly warm.

  It’s always been cold and dark and red.

  There were evil thoughts of evil men until they found me. The archangels took my sense of duty and hunger away from me.

  There’s pain now. There’s guilt and loneliness. It feels like I have a bag of stones hung on my neck. Like I have thorns stuck in my chest.

  I want to die, but he doesn’t want to kill me. He said he’d be nice to me.

  He is so beautiful. His eyes are so kind—golden brown like the streak of resin trickling out of a wound on a tree trunk, beautifully amber. His hair is golden like fields of grain. I remember amber and fields of grain because she remembers them. I’m scared of her even though she doesn’t pay attention to me. I know she could throw me back into the shadows, which would be worse than being killed.

  I tried to protect the other one out the best I could. My instinct guided me. Oh, I know now how wrong I was.

  “Cael,” he says, his voice sounding soothing, and so beautiful.

  He removes his clothes and steps into the bathtub, sitting opposite me. His hand dives under the water, and he pours some over my head.

  Everything is red around me. I’m scared of that redness. It reminds me of the evil men.

  “Aurora, what’s wrong, baby?”

  He pulls me to him and strokes my head. Kisses my head. I want him to kill me. I don’t want the coldness and darkness and redness.

  I want to float in the pearly greyness as I had floated before the other one was called by her mate. That grey cocoon between life and death was peaceful, more peaceful than the shadows. Screams and bangs and cries and clashes fill the shadows. Echoes fill the shadows. My cocoon was safe. I had a body, but I didn’t crave anything. I want to sleep and dream about that warm feeling as I had dreamed for eighteen years before I woke up to protect the other one. I can’t name that feeling. I know it’s warm and good.

  “It’ll be alright,” Cael says.

  Rain starts streaming down. I shudder, and he laughs.

  I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I know why. His lips are on mine. His arms are around me—as safe as my cocoon.

  He rises to his feet, his arms holding me captive, and he steps out of the bathtub. His lips are attached to mine. He slams me on the wall as his fingers dig into my thighs and he wraps my legs around his waist.

  He should kill me, not make me feel so special, so good. Not give me that warm feeling I’ve been dreaming of.

  I sweep my hand to show him what an evil being I am.

  He chuckles. “Okay. Message received.”

  He carries me over to the bedroom and lays me on the bed.

  I want him to kill me. But I want him to kiss me again even more. Kissing is so good and hot and pleasant.

  Chapter 16

  Cael

  I grab the leather collar that hangs above her head and put it around her neck. A sense of guilt surges through me, but I kill it off. She must wear the collar until I’m sure she’s not dangerous.

  “You’re clean,” I say.

  And beautiful. Delicate and sensual.

  Her wide eyes fix on mine as I stretch the light chain attached to the collar with one end and to the wall with the other end. Aurora crouches on the bed, her wings quivering.

  “I’m gonna bring some food now,” I say.

  We took the thirst for blood away from her, which was really easy. It seems like it wasn’t her nature just her means of protecting Reagan. The kind of weapon she doesn’t need any longer.

  We can’t dig around in her head, so we don’t know whether she’s still dangerous or not.

  She sits on her heels and pulls her wing to cover her chest, which reminds me of my stiff cock on display.

  I’ve had beautiful women in life, but that winged cute thing wakes something primal and unstoppable inside me. I feel the urge to protect her, nurture her. Fuck her raw.

  I slip into my jeans and exit the room. Twenty concrete steps lead me out of the basement. I enter the bar,
pass Raphael, and walk into the kitchen.

  Marinka shoots me a concerned glance, yes, concerned not disgusted. “You want me to wash your trousers?”

  “I can do this myself. I need—“

  “Food.” She starts bustling between the fridge and the kitchen worktop. “Don’t move. The blood… Is she better?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Marinka piles a plate with salad and adds two slices of homemade bread. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

  We’ve been friends since she started her job as our cook. She knows all my secrets—kind of— and I know hers. She had a crush on Gabriel, and then on Michael. She wants to start med school in a year or two.

  I don’t fuck our nymphs. The boys do, but I prefer making friends with them to fucking them.

  I grab the plate. “Thanks.”

  She folds her hands as if praying. “This is so romantic. And you’ll be a great dad.”

  “You mean my assignment?” My eyes widen, and I’m kind of stunned.

  Marinka knows that Aurora is going to live in our basement for a month, that’s all. We don’t talk to the nymphs about club business. They sometimes see blood on our clothes, but they never ask questions. Nymphs are very sensitive and intelligent creatures.

  “She can’t tear her eyes off you,” Marinka twitters. “Who wouldn’t? You’re such a handsome, kind guy.”

  I’m really stunned. I brought Aurora thrown over my shoulder, but Marinka thinks it was romantic. Interesting. Women sometimes see more than men do. They have this thing called women’s intuition. An idea sprouts in my head.

  “Can you do a big shopping for me?” I ask.

  “What do you need?” She rolls her eyes. “Oh, I know. Sure. I’ll do this first thing tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I want to be a god mother.”

  I chuckle. “We’ll see.”

  I back up as Marinka hums a song and starts cooking supper for the club.

  Aurora

  He perches on the bed and sticks a plate under my nose. I haven’t eaten a thing since I was torn out of the shadows. I’ve drunk blood a number of times since the other one was torn out of the forest. I don’t need blood anymore.

  I need to die.

  Something good was created, so something evil must have been created too. The other one was made of love, so an evil destruction must have accompanied her. There must always be balance. The other one is safe and free, so I’m not needed any longer.