“Blocked my power? I didn’t think that was possible.”
He leaned slightly forward and smiled in a way that made goose bumps break out over Af’s skin. “Anything is possible, son. Does your head hurt?” That smile widened as if he was giving good news.
“Like a bitch. But then you know that, don’t you?” He laughed and then moaned as more pain lanced through his temples. “Ow. Shit. Sorry. Yes. It hurts. Your doing, I take it?”
“That’s the block working. Sorry about the pain. Can’t be helped. We have much to discuss and I can’t have you using your destructive powers to draw attention to the safe house or to hurt anyone who lives here.”
“Fair enough. I get it. I’m not Mr. Popular. People tend to avoid me like the plague.” He started to laugh again, but choked it off in fear of more pain. Truth was though he’d often been the plague . . . Wait a minute. Did he coin that phrase about himself? Maybe he did. When did he get a sense of humor?
“I’ve got bad news for you and you’re going to be furious. Can you keep yourself together so we can get to the bottom of what happened to you? I really don’t want to knock you out again, but I will if you lose control. As I explained earlier, these people are under my protection. We’re keeping you here so my Primani can help you recover. He is my most even-tempered soldier.” He leaned forward until their noses were inches apart. His voice roughened with an ominous threat. “Know this. If you cause any trouble, I’ll drop your ass off on Antarctica and chain you inside an ice cave until we get this figured out. You can have as many temper tantrums as you like. You’ll either scare the penguins or cave in your prison. That’ll be your call.”
Was he kidding? The Archangel sat back and tapped that big ass sword against his thigh. Those steady blue eyes were frosty as he waited for Af’s response. Nooooo, not kidding. The motherfucker was going to leave him in an ice cave? Sonofabitch! What had he done to piss him off?
Raphael studied the rebellious angel with a heavy heart. Af was entitled to the truth. He deserved to hear it from a friend, but Uriel was probably his only one, and even that was iffy. Even if Uriel wanted to be the one to tell him, he was in Hell trying not to murder Lucifer while still breaking his nose. Since Uriel hadn’t called for backup, he assumed either, A. – he hadn’t found Lucifer yet, or B. – they were still beating the hell out of each other. Uriel had lost his mind when he saw the mutilation. Raphael wasn’t any happier about it, but he’d had time to calm down. Af would be furious enough for both of them.
“I want to remove your restraints so you can sit up. Will you keep yourself under control?”
Af frowned with confusion. Clearly he had no recent memories so didn’t know why Raphael was upset. That must be a side effect of the block. He hated to take such extreme measures, but he wouldn’t risk losing his powers just to keep Af comfortable. That wasn’t going to happen, so Af would have to suck it up. “Are you ready?”
“With all due respect, I’m not a child, for crying out loud! Let me sit up and then tell me what’s going on. You’re starting to freak me out.”
He unlocked the restraints and watched as Af struggled to sit up with his back against the headboard. He was dripping in sweat and pale as a ghost by the time he was situated. He tucked the sheet around his hips and closed his eyes to catch his breath. Raphael sensed the frantic racing of his heart as he endured the pain slamming through him. Instead of complaining, he clamped his bloodless lips together and breathed through his nose. His knuckles were white as they clutched the sheet.
Raphael gave Af a minute to settle down and said, “You were in very bad shape when we found you. My Primani Declan had to carry you here. You couldn’t heal yourself because you’d gone into stasis. Your saol was nowhere in sight. Uriel had to help you heal. Do you remember any of that?”
Af studied his fingers for a few seconds, thinking. “I remember snatches. Just some images really. I’m sure more will come now that I’m awake.”
“You were gone for more than a month. Do you remember who took you?”
Shaking his head slowly, his brows furrowed in concentration, he froze in mid-denial. The memory must’ve come to him because his face reddened with sudden anger, and he ground out, “It was Seth. Sonofabitch! I’m going to rip his fucking scales off one at a time!” He made a move to leap off the bed and cried out in agony. His big body fell like a tree. His head bounced off the nightstand as he landed halfway between the small table and Raphael’s legs. Moaning pitifully, he clutched at his forehead and curled into a fetal position with the sheet twisted around him. His face was hidden under a curtain of black hair, but Raphael imagined his eyes screwed tightly closed against the pain.
Damn and Hell! This is not what he’d intended when he blocked Af’s powers. He wasn’t trying to torture him. This simply couldn’t continue. He laid his hand on Af’s hair and sent a tiny bit of his own healing energy into his head. Af twitched once and lay still. His heartbeat slowed to normal as his body disbursed the pain. With a grunt of annoyance, he untangled himself from the sheet and struggled to rise. Raphael gave him a hand and helped him back to the bed.
“Are you all right?”
Af’s voice trembled as he begged weakly, “Let’s just get this over with so I can die already. This pain is killing me. What happened that is so damn bad?”
“Uriel wasn’t able to heal all of your wounds.”
“How’s that possible? He’s an Archangel. He can heal everything.”
He squeezed the angel’s shoulder, eyes intent on his face, watching for signs of explosion. “Not this time, Af. I’m very sorry.”
“But—” Af’s face drained of blood. Erupting into motion, he frantically examined himself for injuries. He even yanked the sheet off to check his penis. Clearly nonplussed that everything was where it should be, he opened his mouth to speak and then the lightbulb went off in his head. His entire body froze. His eyes rounded in dawning horror. Shaking his head, he stammered, “No . . . No . . . Please, Father, No! Tell me . . .”
He didn’t finish his sentence. His eyes begged Raphael to deny what he had to know in his heart. Raphael nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t say the words either. They wouldn’t form on his tongue. He only shook his head sadly.
Af’s dark eyes went completely blank as he tried to process what he didn’t want to accept. “No. It can’t be . . .” He rolled his shoulders to release his glorious raven wings, but they didn’t unfurl. They remained locked inside his body. One of his hands fluttered near his shoulder as if he couldn’t bear to reach behind him. He whispered thickly, “My wings . . .”
“I’m so sorry. We’re going to do everything we can to fix this.”
That was true. They had no idea how, but they weren’t giving up. The sigil could be removed. Theoretically. They weren’t sure how to take it off without removing the skin and muscle of his entire back. The scarring was deeply imbedded and wouldn’t be simple to undo. They already tried to heal the wound, but it had been done with some kind of magic and the damn monstrous thing wouldn’t be cleansed. Demon magic was nasty that way. Hence the brawl probably going on in Lucifer’s office right this moment. Their brother had a hand in this. The question was, why?
“Nooooo!” Af slammed his fist into the wall and promptly howled in agony. His terrible eyes rolled back in his head and he fainted.
Chapter 7: Damned by Men and Demons
THE CARGO WAS READY. The transport truck was on its way. Everything was on schedule. So why did Seth have this uneasy feeling crawling over his scales? The tingling had started a few hours earlier and stuck around even though he checked and double-checked every single detail. Nothing would go wrong. No one knew where they were or where they were heading. His crew was tight. Wired for the job, they were handpicked for skill, brutality, and the oh-so-important ability to keep their damn mouths shut. Out on the warehouse floor, Pox supervised the prepping while Seth surfed porn on his laptop and debated whether or not to indulge i
n a quick blow job.
The porn was strictly research, but all that moaning and screaming made him horny. It had been awhile. His ears perked up as the occasional womanly cry of distress drifted in his direction. Mostly too doped up to put up any kind of fight, a few of the stronger women tried to struggle; tried being the operative word. They kept them too weak to do much more than claw at one of the crew’s faces or turn their cheeks away from the occasional hard dick that someone jammed into their slack mouths. They weren’t supposed to damage the goods, but no one said anything about sampling.
“Hey, boss. We’re all set; got them roped together and waiting inside the loading dock doors. What’s the ETA on the truck?” Pox shoved his head and shoulders into the doorway. His narrow face ran with stinking sweat. Huge wet stains circled his armpits and the center of his chest. “It’s fucking unbelievably hot in there. I can’t wait to get on the road. You got the coordinates for me? I’ll put them in my GPS.”
His bizarre sensitivity to heat made him the ass end of a lot of crude jokes, though most demons were fearful enough to keep their comments to themselves when he was within shivving distance.
Opting not to comment on the heat thing, Seth tossed a sticky note to his lieutenant. Pox wasn’t his favorite demon—he talked too damn much—but he knew the slave trade like the back of his hand. He’d been running bodies since the Egyptians needed help building their god-awful pyramids. “Here. Be ready to go as soon as Ja-Li gets here with the truck. He’s supposed to be here in ten minutes. After what happened uptown last week, we don’t need to stick around. We can’t afford to lose more cargo.”
Pox tucked the note into his uniform fatigues and asked, “What do you want to do about our little rebel? She’s been trying to stir up the others again. We gave them extra H to keep them docile. Most have been out cold. You said not to dope her, but man, she’s getting fucking cocky.” His thin lips twisted into a pained grimace as he rubbed the inside of his thigh. “Bitch fucking bit me when I gave her my cock. Lucky for her, I can show some restraint. I think her mouth will heal by the time we get to the buyers.”
“I could give a shit about your dick problems. You were told not to damage her. She’s supposed to stay unscarred.” He leaned across the desk, curling his fingers around the haft of his athame. “Is she scarred, Pox?”
Paling instantly, he shook his head emphatically. “No! I swear. She’ll be fine! It’s only a little cut inside her lip.”
He’d better hope to hell her skin wasn’t marred. Tracking her down had been a challenge. A quest of sorts. Years in the works, they’d finally gotten the planets and stars to align exactly right so they could find her. The mission had been simple: Track her down and get her out of play. Kidnapping her to buy future favors was Seth’s brilliant idea. Kill her, sell her, whatever. The bottom line was she was now out of play. The future was saved.
The rumble of a diesel engine broke the tension and saved Pox an ass reaming. The whoosh of air brakes close by confirmed it was the semi that would get them the fuck out of this city and on the way to much more pleasurable days. His lieutenant took a hesitant step backwards and Seth held up his finger to stop him. Resting his eyes on Pox’s face, he held his gaze long enough to win the pissing contest. As expected, Pox suddenly found his boots fascinating.
“Do we need to go over the orders again or can I count on you to do what I tell you?”
“Sorry, boss. It won’t happen again. I’ll keep myself in check.”
“Good. Get them loaded. I’ll see you at the final stop.”
Clearly relieved to be getting on the road, Pox flashed a grin and said, “You got it, Seth. See you in a week.”
“Oh, Pox. Change of plans. She’ll ride with me. Is she clean?”
“Yes, sir. We ran them through the shower earlier.”
Seth slid the laptop into his backpack and typed out a short text message to the big boss. Taking a minute to stretch his arms over his head and work the kinks from his back, he tried to shake off the lingering feeling of dread. Something wasn’t right. Damned if he could figure out what, though. By the time he locked up the office and snatched his tie from the back of the chair, the rest of the crew had loaded the cargo into the trailer and stood waiting for his signal.
Fifty pair of unfocused eyeballs stared out of the dim space as he gave a quick nod to the driver. The women were tied together with rope and slumped with their backs against the sides of the trailer. They had all been given a nice healthy dose of heroin to keep them quiet. It should be an uneventful trip.
Now for his special cargo. Pox waited with her beside the red Porsche 911. Per his instructions, she was dressed in simple American clothes—denim shorts and a plain red t-shirt with a pair of flat sandals. Her thick black hair hung to her waist in one long braid. It was hard to believe that such a tiny female could be such a pain in the ass. Only five feet tall and barely 100 pounds, she was small boned and almost childlike. Of course, she was nearly a child. She was just twenty years old. Maybe. With flat tits and straight hips, she wasn’t really his physical type. Still. It would be a long trip. Maybe he’d fuck her. Maybe he wouldn’t. As he sauntered to the car, she stiffened next to the door. Her chin came up in defiance; her lush lips thinned to an angry, white line. Huge chocolate-brown eyes glittered with hate. Waves of fury rolled from her tightly-coiled muscles.
Well, that synched it. He’d definitely fuck her.
“Bind her and hurry up. I want to get on the road.”
While Pox shackled her into the passenger seat, he folded himself into the driver’s seat and set the GPS location for their first stop. The instant the powerful engine roared to life, she started screaming bloody murder. Slamming the gearshift back into Park, he snatched her jaw between his fingers and locked his eyes to hers. “If you keep screaming, I’ll cut your tongue out.”
In response, she twisted her head, snapping at his fingers, hissing like a feral cat. Wrapping her braid in his fist, he snapped her head back before digging his fingers into her jaw with enough to force to bring tears to her eyes. Now halfway over the console into her seat, he jammed his nose to hers, snarling, “You can calm the fuck down or I’ll knock your stupid ass out. I don’t have time for hysterics.” Shaking her by the chin, he waited for her to settle. “What’s it going to be?”
Her hands came up to clutch his forearms. She pulled on him, but he wasn’t going anywhere. Her efforts were pointless. Guess she had to try though. He swallowed a disgusted sigh while she tugged on him. After a few more tries, her fingers lay still. She blinked away the tears and sniffed hard, her breathing ragged with more fury than fear. “Do not drug me.”
Pressing his fingers into her flesh, he quirked his eyebrow, prompting, “And?”
Swallowing hard, she managed to gasp, “Please!”
He was satisfied with the plea in her tone. Begging was good. Shutting the fuck up was better. Her broken English grated on his nerves. Emotion made her husky voice thick and sultry. That also grated on his nerves. Still, she was calming down. Her heart rate was slowing; her breathing less harsh. Good. He had a schedule to keep and he didn’t have time to dick around with the rebellious little cunt. Releasing her with a shove that bounced her skull against the headrest, he warned, “I have no problem with doping you up if it keeps your mouth shut. Don’t push your luck. Sit back. Shut the fuck up and think about ways to please your new master.”
“Master?”
He snickered at the confusion on her face. Realization was starting to dawn. He couldn’t resist taunting her just to see her eyes turn bleak with despair. “What? What did you think was going to happen to you?”
Staring at her lap now, she fingered the cut on her mouth and dabbed at the smear of fresh blood. Licking her lips to moisten them, she whispered hoarsely, her thick accent made more pronounced by the swelling his rough handling just caused. “I . . . I thought we were being sold as . . . prostitutes.”
Not exactly. “Some will be. Others won’t.
You’ve got a special future. You’re my little goldmine.”
After dropping that little gem, he turned back to the business of getting the fuck out of there. The clock was ticking. As they drove away from the warehouse, she let her head drop against the seat. Studying her profile when they slowed for a stop sign, he didn’t bother to hide the triumphant smile that curled back from his teeth.
The change in her eyes was a thing of beauty. With only a few simple words, the fiery rebel was reduced to nothing livelier than a porcelain doll. Dead eyes stared at nothing now; saw nothing outside of her imagination. Focused inward, she was thinking of all the people she’d never see again. Her family. Her skinny human boyfriend. If she only knew they were dead and rotting in the heat, she’d stop the senseless fantasizing. Maybe she’d see them again in the afterlife. Or maybe not. It was too early to say.
It was ironic that she was still a virgin considering the future she was destined for. The same one that Seth had been sent to change. Clearly she wasn’t psychic or she’d have made sure she had a brat growing in her belly. As it was, well, their timing had been perfect. Mission accomplished.
His boss would be thrilled.
And generous with the rewards.
Chapter 8: Holy Terror
RORI LOADED THE SANDWICHES into the press and stared off into space. The grilled eggplant and prosciutto panini were her favorites, but they might as well be cardboard for as much as she would taste them. She made lunch only because she wanted to feed Dec. Af could feed his damn self, and she had no appetite anymore. As they sizzled, she absently sipped at a glass of water. Even the water tasted odd—metallic—and she had to force it down.
Just a few days ago, she’d been busy planning last minute details of her wedding to the most fabulous man on the planet. They were deliriously happy. They had eternity to love each other and she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more. Life was perfect. Overnight things had changed. The wedding was postponed. The warm, happy home she’d worked so hard to build was riddled with tension and unhappiness. Dec had been moody and uncommunicative, and Loki had turned traitor and adopted that horrible asshat sulking in the spare bedroom. That creature was on her last nerve, but she was trying really hard to remember he’d been brutally hurt. He was entitled to a little bitterness. She understood that. But did he have to be such a dick?
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