Nodding with understanding, Raphael tightened his grip and positioned himself in front of the chair as if that would somehow keep him from rocketing out of it. “You’re not telling me the whole story, are you? Tell me what happened between you two? What did Af do to you?”
Eyes still blazing furiously, he stared at the wall, unable to form the words that filled him with shame. The seconds ticked by as he remembered the scene. Af got the jump on him. Pure and simple. It was his stupidity that caused all of this. Rori reacted to protect him. To save him. That’s what she does. She protects. She nurtures. She saves the underdog. Yeah. She’d nearly died trying to help him. His fault.
His fault she suffered.
His fault she was dead on the fucking floor with Uriel putting her back together because his own healing powers were nearly destroyed by the dangerous energy of the Angel of Destruction. How could he make it up to her? What could he do to beg her to forgive him? She was so sweet. So kind. And she wound up dead because of him.
“Declan?” The soft word came with an equally soft shake of his shoulder. The compelling voice seemed to come from under water, so far away from him it might have been a memory.
He struggled to pull his thoughts to the present, but he was overwhelmed by guilt, by worry for Rori. Closing his eyes against the pain, he was surprised to feel tears on his cheeks.
“Declan? It’s going to be all right, son.”
More patting. Another tear.
“Whatever you’re thinking right now needs to stop. You’re not to blame for this. This isn’t your fault. I know that. I knew he’d be difficult, but I had no idea he would behave so poorly. I underestimated him. Now tell me exactly what happened so I can manage our houseguest properly.”
Raphael’s calm, practical tone finally cut into the funky haze clouding his thoughts, and he sniffed hard and dashed the last couple of tears that leaked from his eyes. Clearing his throat and coughing a couple of times, he finally admitted in a cracking voice, “He baited me and I fell for it. I let him suck me into a fight and then he took my will. It happened so fast I didn’t have time to stop him. He got into my head, Raphael. He took over my will and used it to fuel my anger and . . . I . . . I . . . lost control.” His words trailed to an agonized whisper as the confession came out. Struggling against the fingers digging into his shoulder, he tried to twist away and groaned, “For God’s sake, let me up so I can at least pace! I’m not going to kill him.”
Not yet. Not right now. Not today.
The iron hold let up some but Raphael warned softly, “Don’t make me hurt you, Declan. I don’t want to knock you out, but I can’t have you throwing an Angel of Destruction out of the window to run wild through Manhattan. You may have noticed that he’s not like ordinary angels.”
He squeezed the arms of the chair, taking several slow, deep breaths until the urge to kill abated and he felt the beginnings of his usual Zen attitude coming back. “I’m calmer now. You can let me up. I need to see Rori. Please.”
Now that his blood wasn’t thundering in his ears, he could focus his attention on her. She was alive. She should wake up any second now. When she did, he wanted to be the first face she saw.
Gauging the emotion still raging across his expression, Raphael finally grunted doubtfully, but released him. “I would prefer not to state the obvious, but you cannot, absolutely cannot, touch Af. Ever.” He gave Dec’s hand a hard squeeze, grinding his knuckles together with just enough pain to get his point across. “Ever. I do not care what he says to you, what he does to you. You must be stronger than him. You must show restraint. I don’t have to tell you what happens if he takes over your will and chooses to keep it.”
A prickle of fear teased along Dec’s spine with that warning. His maker’s tone hinted at very bad things, but he wasn’t a hundred percent sure what he was talking about. So he ventured, “He can’t actually take control of me? Like possession? Can he?”
The earlier feeling of violation was bad enough, but short lived. He’d been able to break free fairly quickly. The idea of Af’s creepy eyes and tainted soul touching his mind, controlling his body . . . He shuddered with revulsion and swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat.
“I see you have some idea of how that would feel.” Dropping his voice to a whisper and leaning closer to shield his words even more, he said, “He and his kind are much, much more powerful than you Primani can ever hope to be. He’s never been human as you have been. He has no real understanding of humanity and no ability to show empathy to mankind. On top of that, his loyalties are suspect. If he chose to possess you, the possession would not be pleasant, and likely not for any purpose we would approve of. Do you understand?”
Sure. In other words, the douchebag was probably working with Lucifer on some messed up plot that would kill millions of people or worse. And yes, there were worse things than that. Using Dec’s Primani body and powers would give him an entrance into Heaven. That wouldn’t be good.
“That simply cannot happen. You understand that?”
Dec nodded in agreement and said, “Got it. What are we going to do about him?”
Raphael murmured, “Oh, I’ve got this. He won’t like it, but he’ll survive it.”
Rori came to with the burn of Uriel’s energy humming through her veins. Her muscles responded to the invasion by stiffening and flexing before relaxing into limp noodles. Her legs felt heavy, numb. Her chest rose and fell with each slow, deep breath as her senses got reacquainted with her surroundings. Cool air, dim lighting, the faint whoosh of the ceiling fan turning above . . . and something else. Calloused fingers stroked her cheek, love and caring wrapping their way around her with every motion. Gentle lips pressed to her temple. Murmured words in her ear.
Dec.
She gazed into his fathomless blue eyes as she pushed herself upright. “What happened?”
His lips twisted into a mockery of a smile. “Af happened. Do you remember?”
Quick as a heartbeat, the morning’s drama came crashing into her memory.
Oh, yeah. Af.
“Where is he?” She swung her gaze between Uriel and Raphael, judging their reactions and putting the puzzle pieces together. They had bad news that they didn’t want to tell her. What else is new?
“How do you feel, Rori?” Uriel’s trademark cynical tone was firmly in place, but his voice was soft, almost kind.
He tried to be an ass but just couldn’t swing it when it came to her. She knew this and yeah, she totally exploited it. It was good to be the favorite. “I feel fine. Why?”
A shadow passed over his face, but he replied lightly, “Well, being dead affects humans differently.”
She rocketed straight to her feet. “Dead? What the hell?” Pinning him with narrowed eyes, she hissed, “I was dead? I thought I was immortal?”
“Technically, yes, you are. But . . . well, angels sort of trump immortality if they’ve got enough juice to take your life. Unfortunately, Af’s got enough in his little finger.” Uriel grimaced at the ugly sound coming from her throat and shot Dec a helpless look. Dec ignored him.
Throwing up his hands, Uriel hastily added with an encouraging smile, “Everything’s all right now. I healed you. You’ll be just fine.”
“Oh, my hero. Where is the monster now?”
Dec aimed his chin towards a spot on the other side of the room. Af lay on the floor, out like a light, bruises the size and shape of her lover’s hands on both sides of his face. Dried blood crisscrossed his pale skin like a gruesome spider web. The poor creature looked half dead himself. His cruel mouth was pressed into a tight white line even while asleep. Those creepy, compelling, horrifying eyes raced beneath his lids. What did Angels of Destruction dream about? What nightmares stalked such a dangerous being? What could he possibly be afraid of? The tips of his bloodstained fingers twitched, curling inward, beckoning her to touch him, to soothe him, to heal him.
“Rori! What do you think you’re doing?” Dec’s chest rose u
p like a wall between her and Af. Frowning deeply, he steered her to the other side of the room. “You can’t touch him. At all. Ever. Do you hear me?” He gave her shoulder a slight shake and warned, “He will kill you, and I’m not allowed to beat the shit out of him again, so don’t touch him, okay?”
“Why doesn’t he like me? I’ve been nothing but nice to him. I don’t understand.”
“Af doesn’t like anyone. He especially dislikes humans. To be honest though, I’m surprised at how nasty he’s been to you. My only explanation is his rage needs a target. His wings are gone. His bitterness is too great to swallow right now. It’s my hope that he’ll calm down before I have to take drastic measures.” Raphael’s tone didn’t sound as positive as his words.
Did he believe what he was trying to tell her? Bitterness? Maybe. It would certainly be understandable, but that didn’t seem to be the only issue he had. There was more to it.
Her fingers still tingled with the compulsion to touch Af, so she shoved them into her pocket and clenched them into a fist. Turning to Raphael, she said flatly, “I don’t want him here.”
“I understand your fears, but he has to stay here until we can figure out what to do with him. I’m sorry, but it has to be this way.”
“Fine. I’m leaving then.”
“That’s probably a good idea.”
A few minutes later, she flopped down onto the bed and dragged her traitorous fingers over her face. Damn it! She didn’t want to move out. Even temporarily. This was her home; for the first time in her life, she actually had a place to call home. This used to be a safe place. A secure place. She didn’t worry about being attacked by demons or gangbangers or creepy stalkers who peeped into her broken windows. No. Finally she had a real home. She’d been safe here. Safe with Dec. She didn’t feel safe now. Her sense of security was gone. If Dec couldn’t protect her, if a friggin’ angel attacked her . . . if the safe house was no longer safe . . . Seeming to sense her turmoil, Loki pawed at her leg, whimpering for attention. Absently patting the mattress, she murmured, “Come up, boy. Maybe you can settle my nerves.”
The lanky pup stretched his full length along her side, warm muzzle pressed into her ribs, soft eyes gazing at her with total adoration. His comfortable heat lulled her into relaxed mush as she stared at the swirled plaster ceiling, letting her thoughts run free. She had a ton of things to do. She didn’t have time for this drama. They still needed to get married. She had to figure out another location for the ceremony, go grocery shopping, reorder flowers. And she also had to work her regular shift. She had too much to do to. As she drifted into a doze, an image began to coalesce at the edges of her vision. Just blurry shapes at first, it slowly came together. A woman’s eyes, staring in horror, filling with tears . . . Bourbon-colored irises ringed in heavy black. As the vision’s scope expanded, the eyes were joined by the rest of the woman’s face. Pale in sadness, taut with pain, bruised with grief.
A soft rap of knuckles on the door destroyed the vision with a nearly audible poof. Dec peeked into the room, dimples popping when he spotted her. “Can I come in?”
Patting the other side of the mattress, she forced a brittle smile. “Of course. I was just making myself crazy thinking about all the errands I still need to run for the wedding. There’s a ton of things to—”
“Babe.”
That simple word derailed her train of thought. His dimples were gone; his expression more pained than she’d seen since before they’d gotten rid of Azrael and saved her soul. He drew her upright, refusing to meet her eyes, shaking his head in denial before saying, “We can’t have the wedding here. I’m so sorry, darlin’. Af’s energy—”
She touched a finger to his lips to stop him. “I know. He’s toxic. The kids can’t be around that. God knows Sean and Aisling don’t need any encouragement to get angry.” Her lame attempt at a joke fell flat even to her ears. Turning her back on him, she swallowed a sudden lump in her throat and offered, “I’ve already started thinking of other places, but I’m wondering if maybe we should just cancel it for now. Maybe this isn’t the right time. We’ve waited this long. It won’t hurt to delay the date a little longer. A winter wedding would be nice. Maybe we could use the cabin. It would be pretty all covered in snow.”
“No way. Not an option.” Pulling her back around, he dropped a hard kiss on her mouth and said, “I’ve been waiting to marry you for long enough. I’m not letting that asshat ruin our plans. We’re getting married Saturday night. We’re not waiting any longer than that. Trust me. It’ll happen. I swear.” He kissed her again and drew her close enough to feel the steady thud of his heartbeat against her cheek. Tipping her chin up, he lowered his voice to a whispered plea. “Trust me?”
Smiling tightly, she whispered, “You know I do.”
“Perfect. You won’t be sorry. In the meantime though, we need to get out of this apartment so Uriel can wake dumbass up. He’s got questions for him. I’ll get us another room in the hotel. Can you pack a bag for us? Loki can go stay with Sean and Aisling. Winchester and Rambo can keep him company.”
She broke into a grin in spite of the disappointment lying heavy on her heart. Winchester and Rambo were Sean and Aisling’s Dalmatians. Formerly known as Thor, Win was one of Loki’s littermates. They’d be thrilled to spend time together and poor Loki needed a break from all of this tension.
“Okay. That sounds like a good plan. I have to go to work tomorrow. Mr. Steppan has a lot for me to do this week. I really need to go in before he fires me.”
He scoffed at her worry. “Dude, who are you kidding? They need your genius researching skills too much to fire you. But I get it. You go to the lab and do your thing. I’ll save the world.”
“And then we’ll get married!” they both said at the same time.
Af was not happy. Eons of existence and he wound up in this shithole of a city. It was insulting, really. Out of all the astral planes, all the planets even, he was trapped—no, make that imprisoned—in a twelve by twelve bedroom in the middle of Manhattan. It was ridiculous. His consciousness was wide awake and pinging like a submarine’s sonar. He couldn’t get up, or give voice to the rage burning through his blood, but he could listen. What was said, and more importantly, what was left unsaid, gave him pleasure so consuming even his dick was hard. The fact that his hands were bound and he couldn’t do anything about his arousal was only a minor inconvenience. Lying on his back as he was, the tent at his crotch blocked the view of his feet. He twitched his ass and the tent wobbled.
So little miss perfect Rori was lying through her teeth? Well, well, well, isn’t that interesting? Did her idiot Primani boyfriend notice the subtle inflections in her tone? Did he have the intuition to see below the surface of her placating words? Burning anger hummed inside of her like an electrical current now. She was trying to be agreeable, trying to accept his presence in this flimsy safe house. She was lying. To herself. To Declan. To the righteous Archangels trying to keep him on ice. She was furious but desperately hiding it. Was that her nature? Was she too weak to embrace the wild freedom of rage? He’d thought she was stronger than this. After all, she did have that intriguing smudge on her soul. She’d seen darkness, been touched by the hand of evil. That scarred a person, changed them. Perhaps he’d misjudged her. Pity.
Wiggling his wrists, he ignored the sharp pain that raced up his forearm. Just a little more to the left and he’d be out of these cuffs. The razor sharp manacles cut to the bone, severing nerves. His hand went limp. Flopped right over in a puddle of blood. Well, shit. What kind of evil Archangel was this Raphael? He’s the Angel of Healing, for fuck’s sake! These damn razer cuffs were designed to inflict the maximum amount of pain possible.
“No, Af. Razer cuffs are designed to control dangerous flight risks like you.” The dry amusement in Uriel’s tone matched the smirk on his face. Reaching out, he took Af’s wrist between his thumb and forefinger and sealed the bleeding gash. “Stop fighting and you’ll stop bleeding. I’m not hang
ing around all day, so if you tear your hand open again, you’ll probably bleed out. No one else will heal you.”
The sun slanted between the curtains and seemed to spotlight Uriel in a brilliant halo of celestial power. Yeah. Right. With a smartass comment on the tip of his tongue, Af opened his mouth but no sound came out. Muted.
Of course. They wouldn’t risk his voice.
Uriel’s smirk vanished, replaced by a somber frown. He studied Af’s face for several seconds and said in a patient tone, “Who tortured you, Af? The longer you keep quiet about this, the guiltier you look. I’ve given you a few days to come to grips with your loss, but it’s time to get down to business. Since you’ve decided to be an asshole, I figure you’re up to answering some questions. We’re not stupid and you’re not above punishment. You cross the lines; you pay the price. You know this.” He exhaled and asked, “Who took your wings?”
My wings. The thought of losing them sent pain ripping through his body, followed instantly by a rage so intense the bedsheets started to smoke. His skin nearly split as anger roared through his blood.
My fucking wings!
Stepping back a few feet, Uriel raised a hand to deflect the dangerous energy that nearly hit him in the chest. It bounced to the wall and cracked the plaster from floor to ceiling. “Judging by the expression on your face, you’re not happy being a flightless angel. Earthbound. Trapped on the human plane. Stuck with the humanity that you despise.” He chuckled without humor. “I get it. I do.” Leaning into his face, he added, “Here’s the thing, old friend. I can’t help you unless I know what’s really going on. I’d bet my best sword that Lucifer’s up to something, but he sure as shit wouldn’t bother to torture you himself. He’d never get his hands dirty. Plus, that artwork on your back is too crude. I’ve seen my brother work. He would’ve taken his time with you. That sigil is too sloppy. He’s a perfectionist with all of eternity to do his best. So, why don’t you tell me who did this to you and why?”
Saol Mates (Primani Book Six) Page 12