by Wylde, Nora
“Hey, thought you were out…oh, shit, man, what the hell happened to you?”
Sam shoved Daren into the kitchen and closed the door. Sam was aware he was covered in minion blood, and he was equally aware Abby had been splashed as well. The rancid mess covered them both.
“She went across the street. I couldn’t help it – the minion would have killed her,” Sam said, answered Daren’s unspoken question.
“Is that blood on her? How isn’t she burning up? What the hell is she?” Daren shot back. Daren shrugged Sam’s hands away and turned his back, pacing a few strides away. When Daren turned back, he pointed a shaking fist at Sam. “You know she won’t be able to process this. She’ll be a raving lunatic – that, or end up catatonic.”
Sam leaned over the counter, placing his palms flat against the cool granite as he closed his eyes. Yes, he knew there was only so much a human mind could tolerate, and that he had taken her far past what she could experience without lasting damage. Yet what else could he have done?
“Let me take her memories. It’s her only chance,” Daren said.
Sam knew his friend was right. It was the only way. Abby should have never been drawn into their world; he should have tried harder to wipe her memory clean days ago. He had no right to keep her tied to him, and despite the trappings of human weakness that consumed him when he was in her presence he knew what must be done.
“I’ll try to do it,” Sam said quietly. He pushed past his friend and went to her, kneeling beside Abby as she lay on the couch. Before his anguish could make him falter, he cupped her face in his hands and slipped into her thoughts.
Although she slept and he glimpsed the images of her restless dreams, she woke as his fingers slid into her hair.
“Sam?” she whispered. He forced the grimace from his face and willed her to close her eyes, but damn if she made no response. Sleep, Abby, he demanded, knowing his voice must be echoing in her ears. She only smiled up at him.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for saving me from that – that demon.”
The sting of heat simmered in his belly, rising up into his chest as he looked down at her. Suddenly it all seemed clear.
He could not take her memory, and he would not allow any other angel to try – even Daren. In fact, he would never let another man touch her. Whatever she was, she was strong enough to sustain reality despite what she had witnessed.
Abby was strong. She was brave. She was unlike any human he had ever known.
And she belonged to him.
He scooped her into his arms, cradling her against his chest as he walked toward the stairs.
“What are you doing? Let me try –”
“No,” Sam replied. “I forbid it.”
Daren shook his head, his eyes wide. “Really? You forbid it? Have you lost your fucking mind? Humans can’t handle this crap, she’ll be nothing more than an empty shell in a few hours – she’ll lose it.”
When Daren tried to enter Abby’s mind, Sam reacted from pure reflex. His eyes flashed pure black as he glared at Daren, who immediately backed down.
“Are you gonna fight me over this, brother?” Daren asked.
Sam nodded.
“Don’t make me have to,” Sam replied.
Daren did not answer, but he took a step backward, glaring at Sam. There was no point in arguing with Daren, and it was no longer negotiable as far as Sam was concerned. As he made his way up to his room and gently placed Abby on his bed, he blocked out the warnings Daren sent into his head.
She remained in a daze, but Sam knew she would recover. If she did not, he would spend the rest of eternity healing her. He had no idea what effect the events of the day would have on her damaged psyche, nor what the consequence of his actions would be.
Yet for the first time in his existence, he truly knew what he was meant to do.
Chapter 10
Abby
THE ECHO OF RAIN pounded in her ears, waking her from the deep recesses of sleep. Yet when she opened her eyes into heavy-lidded slits, she realized it was not rain at all.
She was sitting on a tile floor under the spray of a warm shower – and she was nestled firmly in Sam’s arms. Her white tank top and panties were soaked through, water dripping over her eyes from her wet hair.
“Sam?” she said. Her fingers twisted into a fist, bunching his soaked tee shirt in a knot beneath her hand. The thin material clung to his skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. He was every bit as otherworldly as she imagined he would be, his sculpted muscles tight as he drew in a sharp breath.
“Almost finished,” he murmured. He rubbed her skin clean with a soft washcloth and she could see the pink bloody water swirl around the drain where it disappeared. Although her thoughts still seemed muddled and she was not yet willing to trust her recollection of what she had witnessed, she wondered if he still wanted to wipe her memories away. She feared to ask what he meant to do to her, because although her shredded memories still seemed fragile, another urge assaulted her senses.
His fingers on her skin.
His shallow breath warm against her neck.
It was veritable torture, searing every inch of her flesh with the ache of wanting him.
What was wrong with her?
“It’s because you’re drawn to me – to what I am,” he said softly. A flush rushed to her cheeks as she recalled he could read her thoughts. “I’ve never held a human like this before because it creates a bond. If I keep you near me much longer, you’ll never want to leave.”
“I don’t want to leave,” she insisted. She leaned into his hand as he brushed her wet hair from her face.
“You don’t mean that. I tried to wipe your memories, you’re not thinking clearly,” he said.
“You’re so warm,” she whispered, completely distracted by him. Warm was an understatement. Her skin burned where he touched her. It washed over her like a wave, sending a pang of desire straight down to her core. She dared to glance upward into his soft eyes, letting out a moan when another surge of heat ricocheted through her body.
“Abby,” he groaned as she slid upward into his lap. She straddled him, unable to resist the pull that urged her to him. When she fumbled with the zipper on his wet jeans he grabbed her wrist, but she would not back down. The thing between them had been building for weeks, and despite the way reality swirled in a senseless rhythm inside her head, she knew she needed him – and she could see he wanted her just as badly.
“Kiss me,” she said.
His eyes flashed into black orbs as he looked at her, and in the span of a moment his fingers were twisted in her hair. She gasped at the intensity of his embrace, his hands suddenly everywhere, holding her so tightly she could not escape if she wanted to. His lips crashed down on hers as the shower stream poured down upon them and she could feel the steam erupt from their skin.
There was no time to waste. The need drove her to madness, taking away any inhibition she once had. Each kiss intensified the urge, every motion serving her closer to oblivion. She cried out when his mouth closed over her breast, teasing her nipple to a hard point as he sucked her through her wet shirt. Her knees lost purchase on the slippery tile floor when she fumbled with his jeans but he wrapped his arm around her waist, helping her with one hand as his hot lips continued exploring her body. Once he was freed from his soaked jeans she shoved him back and mounted him, her slick thighs sliding over his hips.
He pushed her panties to the side without taking them off, both of them shaking as his thick cock nudged her wet entrance.
“You know I’ll never let you go,” he said, his voice hoarse. The darkness in his eyes flashed back to deep brown and she could see the pulse pounding at his neck.
“I know,” she whispered, placing her hands on his face. She kept her eyes locked with his, the ache in her core ready to burst as she felt him grip her buttocks with both hands. He pulled her down as he thrust upward, entering her in one swift motion.
He moaned as
he started to move. She wanted to rock with him, desperate to make the fire in her blood explode, but despite the fact that she straddled him, she was not the one in charge. The shower water had long run cold, pouring down on them as they writhed together on the tile floor. She felt his fingers dig into her hips as he slammed into her and it was all she could do to hold onto him. As she raced toward the peak, the taste of salt ran into her lips and she realized her tears mixed with the water. Sam slipped one hand behind her head and kissed her hard, his thrusts matching the throbbing in her soul. He groaned her name as he came, and as she felt him explode inside her she erupted as well. The wave crashed over her, swallowing her whole.
They leaned their heads together, limbs entwined. Her pulse pounded in her ears, finally fading as her shallow breaths came under control. His eyes were soft under his dark lashes, his skin flushed in a very human way as he kissed her lightly near her ear.
“Here,” he said, reaching up to turn off the shower. She suddenly realized how cold it was on the tile floor when the warm spray ended. “Let me get you warm again.”
Sam wrapped a plush cotton towel around her and carried her to his bed, tucking her carefully beneath his down comforter. She clutched the bedding to her chin as she shivered and goose bumps ran over her skin, increasingly disturbed by the sense of panic rising in her belly. He was only across the room, pulling on a pair of sweats. Why did she feel as if he were a thousand miles away?
“Sam?” she called, her voice rising a pitch. She was shaking all over and she could once more feel her heart thudding inside her chest. Sam was back at her side in an instant, pulling her into his arms.
“I’m sorry,” he said, kissing her gently.
“What is happening to me?” she asked. He shook his head, his eyes downcast.
“You’re drawn to me. For humans, it can be like an addiction. You can’t stop thinking about it – what we did, I mean – but you will.”
She wanted to argue that it was more than just sex she wanted. She wanted him – everything about him, body and soul. It was more than just a physical need to her, although the physical need was the impulse that seemed to be ruling her traitorous body.
“How do you know it will stop?” she replied.
“You’re not entirely human. If you were completely human, you couldn’t process what you saw today, and you certainly would not have survived being covered in demon blood. I don’t know for sure what you will remember or how you’ll feel tomorrow,” he said quietly, “but I’ll be there to take care of you no matter what happens.”
“Are you saying I won’t remember this?” she asked.
“I don’t know for sure. You’re a mystery to me, Abby. I should never have let you get so close, but I can’t seem to let you go,” he said, his voice low with a twinge of sadness. She kissed him softly on his lips, struggling to control the raging desire in her blood as she tried to comfort him.
“I don’t want you to let go,” she said.
His throat tightened and he pulled slightly back, staring into her eyes.
“Do you know what it means to belong to one of my kind?” he asked. “What it truly means?”
“No. Tell me,” she insisted, her heart slamming against her ribs as he slowly peeled the comforter away from her with a black gleam in his eyes. She kept her eyes locked with his despite the change in him, those ebony orbs burning into her as if she was something meant to be devoured.
“This,” he said, running his finger over her breast, “this is mine.” She moaned when he rubbed her hard nipple, pinching it to a point between his fingertips. His hand dipped below the blanket and then up between her thighs, two fingers sliding easily into her wet cleft. He cupped her head with his other hand as her back arched up against him and she let out a soft cry.
“I made love to you as a human tonight. Next time,” he said, “I won’t hold back. I told you once that good and evil are just words. Do you remember that?”
She nodded.
“My kind can be both, especially when it comes to keeping what belongs to us.”
“Show me now,” she whispered. He laughed, his face softening into a wide smile.
“Sleep, and when you wake we’ll talk more. I can see you’re tired,” he said, grinning.
She felt the tendrils of his mind dart inside hers, swarming her thoughts with images of sleep. Shaking her head, she glared at him defiantly as she yawned.
“I know what you’re doing, and it won’t…work,” she murmured.
Sam whispered something in her ear, but the words were lost as she let her tired mind succumb to his influence and she drifted into the pleasant comfort of her dreams.
THE END
Read on for a preview of the next episode in The Faithful series
Preview: The Faithful 2
CHAPTER 1
Abby
SHE WOKE THE NEXT morning and went about her day in a haze. The nagging feeling that she forgot something terribly important nipped at her thoughts, so intense at times that she stopped mid-sentence just to collect her thoughts. Dad passed her odd behavior off without much notice, but by the end of the evening she could no longer ignore it. She needed to talk to Sam.
She closed Dad’s bedroom door as quietly as possible, but the stiff hinges still screeched as they settled into place. All things considered, Dad had a good day. He had finished two meals and most of a third, and he had puttered around with his fishing lures in between his naps. She did not know if it was her imagination or just a glimmer of hope, but she thought his skin color looked more pink than usual. Anything was better than the sight of her father, yellow-tinged and sickly.
As she made her way down the stairs she glanced at the Grandfather clock in the foyer. It chimed at the quarter-hour in Westminster chimes, yet another reminder of her childhood that resounded as an ache in her chest. She had certainly not expected to see her father so ill when she returned home and she did not regret returning to take care of him, but there was a dark part of her heart where she longed for normality. Did it make her a horrible person, to acknowledge such a thing? To wish to be that child again, spending time with her strong, healthy father?
It was a question she had no answer for, but perhaps there was a way to find some answers. After all, wasn’t that what angels did? Watch over humanity, ease suffering and that sort of thing? She had never been an overtly religious woman, more indifferent than anything, so the irony of her neighbor turning out to be an angel was not lost on her. Especially now, the idea of God seemed like an affront to her. Why should she believe in a being that created an illness like cancer, a being that would let that sickness ravage good people like her father?
Maybe it was time to get some real answers from Sam.
She found herself trudging across the yard without much thought, ignoring the fact that it was after ten at night and the lights were low in Sam’s house. Before she could raise her fist to knock the door swung open, and Daren greeted her with a crooked smile.
“Little late for a visit, don’t you think?” he said.
“You’re right. I – I’m sorry, I’ll talk to Sam tomorrow –”
“Nah, it’s no biggie. He’s upstairs. Door at the end of the hall,” Daren said. He pulled her inside by her shirtsleeve and gave her a push in the direction of the stairs.
“Can you let him know I’m here?” she stammered. She had not been upstairs in his house since they had been children, and she felt distinctly uncomfortable with the idea of knocking on his bedroom door. Yet as she looked towards the stairs, an image flashed through her mind and her heart seemed stuck in her throat. She sat in Sam’s arms on the tile floor of a shower, soaked through as water pounded against them, and then she…oh, my. What the hell was going on?
“I gotta run. Just knock, I’m sure he’s just reading or something.” He flicked his hand at her as if she were an annoyance. “Go on. Have fun. I won’t be home for a while.”
“Daren!” she hissed as he left. He closed th
e door behind him and she heard his car engine roar to life. The headlights flashed beams across the windows of the house, and then he was gone.
Great. She let her breath out in a long sigh and made her way up the stairs. She was an adult, right? She had been adult enough to talk to him at the park, and rational enough to speak with him about his otherworldly status. She was perfectly capable of talking to him in his bedroom. Where she imagined herself lying in his bed as he teased her nipple to a point and whispered, “this in mine.”
“Jesus,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head. “Get it together, woman!” She felt a surge of wetness between her legs as she tried to block the arousing image from her mind.
The hallway was longer than she expected, taking her to the rear of the house. Sam’s house was considerably larger than hers, surrounded by tall evergreens which gave it a sense of seclusion and privacy. She recalled her father mentioning that Sam’s parents moved and left the house to him, and that Sam and his friend Daren were living there. With more than a twinge of curiosity, she wondered if Sam’s parents were mythical creatures as well, or if Sam was clever enough to hide that fact from them.
There was no answer when she knocked on the door. The sensible side of her was ready to leave; her curious half, however, was bolder. She cracked the door and peered through, telling herself if he were asleep she would leave. He was sprawled in a recliner in the corner, bare-chested and achingly handsome, so much so that she nearly turned and left despite the confusing desire trying to propel her forward. He lounged back with his eyes closed, ear bud headphones streaming music from the iPod in his hand. She thought she was stealthy, but as soon as her foot passed the threshold, he opened his eyes.
As he slowly removed the ear buds and stood up, she regretted intruding in his personal space.
“I’m sorry. You look busy. I– I’ll just talk to you tomorrow,” she stammered. She tried to close the door, but he caught the handle to stop her.