Echoes and Embers (Rebel Angels)

by Cyndi Friberg

  It had taken thousands of years to rise above his carnal nature. He could not go back now. Not even for Alyssa.

  “What are you afraid of?” she whispered against his skin.

  Anger burst within him. The beast writhed and roared. She had no idea what he’d been like, what he was liable to do to her.

  Warm and willing in his arms, she taunted the beast, begging to be devoured.

  He swept her beneath him, pressing her into the mattress with the weight of his body. “I fear nothing! I am unwilling to endure—”

  “That’s not what I meant. I—”

  He cut off her words with his mouth, dragging her hands above her head and wedging his body between her legs. If she was so anxious to see the beast, he would give her a glimpse of the darkness within him. He would frighten her just enough to make her understand.

  She set her teeth and twisted her face to the side, panting harshly.

  “Stop it! I will not be taken in anger.”

  “Why?” he sneered. “What are you afraid of? Is this not what you wanted? What we’ve both been waiting for?”

  His mouth claimed hers again. Grasping both her wrists with one large hand, he splayed the fingers of his other hand against her face, holding her still. He rubbed his mouth against hers, his expectation clear. She whimpered. Her lips parted and he immediately thrust inside. He captured her distressed cry in his open mouth, taking the kiss deeper, demanding more.

  Sweet. She tasted so sweet. He was ravenous, desperate, eager to introduce her to wicked, wanton pleasures sure to shock and thrill her.

  He had to stop.

  He couldn’t stop!

  He wanted her desperately—but not like this.

  Grinding his cock against the heat between her thighs, he cursed the clothing separating his flesh from hers. He breathed in her scent and absorbed the feel of her softness crushed beneath his much larger frame.

  He didn’t want to hurt her, knew he couldn’t take her, but he had to touch her!

  Pushing to his knees, he tugged her garment off over her head. She protested each time their mouths separated. He held firmly to her hands and concentrated on their kiss. With slow, steady penetrations, he took her mouth as he longed to take her body. She squirmed and twisted, but her mouth grew pliant and responsive. His hand wandered over her torso, cupping her breasts, teasing her nipples.

  “Shall I stop or pleasure your nipples?” He formed the question against her kiss-dampened lips, fanning her with his breath.

  “Why are you doing this?” She stilled beneath him, her eyes wide, filled with uncertainty.

  “Stop or go? I will only respond to one of those two words.”

  She licked her lips, inadvertently brushing his in the process. “Go.”

  He released her hands and took her face between his palms, pausing for a long, leisurely kiss before he progressed to the promised intimacy. She hesitated for a moment then her tongue slid against his, curled around his and tasted him.

  Her neck beckoned, the long, slender column warm and soft. He followed her pounding pulse with the tip of his tongue, dipping into the indentation at the base of her throat before trailing hot kisses into the valley between her breasts.

  He cupped both soft mounds at the same time, framing her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Rubbing one with the pad of his thumb while he sucked upon the other, he soon had her nipples tightly puckered and flushed.

  “Stop or go?”

  “Are you going to join with me?” She sounded anxious and breathless.

  “Stop or go?” His tone demanded an answer.

  “Go. You know I want you, but why… Oh!”

  He parted her folds and pushed two fingers into her wet center. “Stop or go.”

  “Go, oh please go.”

  He slid in and out, brushing his thumb over her swollen nub as his fingers moved inside her. She tugged his tunic up, bunching it beneath his arms as her hands explored his chest and back. The beast heaved and bucked, demanded more, demanded her.

  She arched against his fingers and a sharp cry escaped her throat.

  He heard a muffled tap and then the groan of hinges. Alyssa grabbed his wrist as Rosalind’s angry voice snapped from the doorway.

  “Liar! You whore! I will not have this in my house. I will not…” A sob shattered the remainder of her tirade. Rosalind whirled and ran down the corridor.

  Frantically reaching for her nightgown, Alyssa shoved him aside with surprising strength. “Not now. This cannot happen now.” She snatched her dressing gown from the foot of the bed and ran after her ward.

  Heaving an exasperated sigh, Sariel dispersed his corporeal body and returned to his own bedchamber.

  * * * * *

  Alyssa entered Rosalind’s room through the handmaiden’s door, which the girl had neglected to bar. Curled on her side with her back to Alyssa, Rosalind shook with muffled sobs. What should she say, how could she make Rosalind understand things she didn’t fully comprehend.

  I can’t lie.

  The realization tore through Alyssa, making her tremble. Rosalind had suffered so much. Alyssa wanted to see the girl happy, her future secured. How could she hope to accomplish that goal without uttering a lie? “Rosalind.”

  “Leave me! I did not give you permission to enter my chamber.”

  She had not given Rosalind permission to enter her chamber either. Knowing the rejoinder would only antagonize her ward, Alyssa chose another tactic. “What brought you to mine?”

  Rosalind rolled over and stood in one fluid motion. She glared at Alyssa through her tears, an occasional sob still disrupting her breathing. “I wanted to apologize.” She laughed. The harsh, mocking sound filled Alyssa with regret. “I thought about what you said and felt guilty that I hadn’t done more to defend you. I can’t believe what a fool I’ve been.”

  “My relationship with Sariel is complicated. I did not lie to you before. He is not my lover.”

  “Only because I interrupted your tryst.”

  Alyssa crossed her arms over her chest, determined to retain control of her temper. “My relationship with Sariel concerns no one but—”

  “You live here by my leave. I am Lady Monthamn! Your actions reflect on me.”

  Amused by their role reversal, Alyssa fought back a smile. The concept was sound, the argument valid, except Rosalind was not yet of age. “You are my ward until your twenty-first year. I agree that my actions reflect on Monthamn Castle, but I am responsible for you until you reach that age or wed.”

  “You are certainly setting a sterling example for me. Either you are lying about having known him before or you were…trysting with a man you hardly know.”

  Heat infused Alyssa’s face and she glanced away from Rosalind’s hostile gaze. “I have strong feelings for Sariel. What happened tonight was not planned. That is all I will say on the matter.”

  “Is he in your bed even now, awaiting your return?”

  “That’s enough.”

  “The standards and expectations you set for me do not apply to you? I must take an escort to the privy while you are free to—”

  “I am not Lady Monthamn, as you were quick to point out. My relationship with Sariel has no bearing on what is expected of you.”

  “Do as I say and not as I do? There is a word for that, Alyssa. Hypocrisy.”

  “I have found a man who attracts me mightily. Why does that make you angry? Am I not allowed any measure of happiness?”

  Rosalind had no answer for that. She crossed her arms over her breasts and turned her face away.

  Wishing she had the words to span the ever-increasing gap between them, Alyssa sighed. “I will see you in the morning.” Rosalind said nothing so Alyssa left the way she’d come.

  * * * * *

  Alyssa spent the remainder of the night in restless frustration. Sariel had departed by the time she returned to her bedchamber. She knew it was for the best, but her heart ached and her body burned to continue what they had be
gun.

  She tossed in her lonely bed, intentionally reliving the hillside scene, attempting to imprint it on her faulty memory. Sariel had seemed convinced the image was not in jeopardy unless she told a lie, but Alyssa was not so sure.

  How long had she been trapped in the human realm, banished to this pointless existence? Gideon and Naomi had lived hundreds of years before, but Alyssa’s fragmented memories went much further back. Mist twirled and spun, revealed images only to conceal them again.

  Could Sariel banish the mist permanently? Could he guide her through her past?

  It didn’t matter if he could. He was not here to guide her, he meant to judge Rosalind.

  Alyssa had nearly forgotten the purpose of his mission. The rapid turn of events had distracted her from the danger he posed to her ward. Shame fueled her determination. She would not be distracted again.

  She dressed quickly and descended to the great hall. He sat before the fire, breaking his fast, his expression carefully guarded. Slipping onto the bench across the table from him, Alyssa didn’t bother to smile. Despite her attraction to him, Sariel was more adversary than ally.

  “How is Rosalind to be judged? Do you have specific criteria you’re required to follow or is the decision entirely up to you? Would we have been better off with your subordinate?”

  Setting aside his tankard, he folded his arms across his chest and gazed at her intently, his expression inscrutable. “My subordinate could have introduced himself by any number of names. Has there been a tall male who expressed an interest in Rosalind in the past year?”

  “We spent much of the past year at court. There were many tall males who expressed an interest in Rosalind. Are you evading the issue?”

  He just smiled.

  “How will you judge Rosalind?” she asked again.

  “I must first decide whether or not she is a Nephilim.”

  “And how is that determination made?” She rested her forearms on the table, trying not to reveal her anxiety.

  “As you know, I have the ability to discern a person’s thoughts, emotions and memories. I’m often able to retrieve images the person is not aware they possess.”

  How could she doubt his abilities when she’d experienced their effect? He would search Rosalind’s mind, explore her childhood memories and uncover the truth of her origins. Then what?

  “If her grandmother was an angel, does that put Rosalind at risk?”

  “Nephilim are seldom able to reproduce. They are the product of an unnatural union, so it is very rare that they can produce offspring.”

  His voice was gruff, restrained. He had fathered three such beings. Was he remembering those long-ago events? Had one woman borne all his children or had he—

  “My past is not in question. Focus on your ward.”

  Tension crackled between them. Alyssa gave a stiff nod. Suppressing the urge to reach across the table and touch him, she moved her hands to her lap. Her desire for Sariel made her feel disloyal to Rosalind. Why couldn’t he have come in response to Lailah’s invitation? He was Alyssa’s best hope of combating the mist, yet he threatened the mortal she’d sworn to protect. There could be no compromise. Alyssa had to choose.

  “For the sake of argument let’s say Rosalind is a Nephilim. What must be determined next?”

  “I must ascertain if she is mortal or immortal. If her parents died as you’ve been led to believe, she is likely mortal.”

  “Not all Nephilim are immortal?”

  “Nay. As with any child, a Nephilim inherits characteristics from each of their parents. Therein lies the challenge of my missions. I must decide how much of each Nephilim is human and how much is Grigori. The ones more Grigori than human tend to be corrupt. All the angelic power of the Grigori with the freewill of man—it is more than most beings can withstand.”

  He recited the information in an expressionless monotone. How long had he been hunting the offspring of his order? How many Nephilim had he killed? “You already told me you’re prepared to destroy Rosalind if she’s corrupt. What are the alternatives? If her nature is pure, what becomes of her?”

  “There is a section of Heaven reserved for my kind. She will accompany me there. If she—”

  “Lady Alyssa!” A middle-aged servant called from across the hall. She stood in the archway leading to the domestic wing, her features tense with worry.

  “What’s amiss, Imogene?” Pushing back her bench, Alyssa went to join the servant.

  “I can’t find Lady Rosalind. I’ve looked everywhere.”

  Sariel loomed behind her. She didn’t need Imogene’s frequent glances to tell her he stood there. “Where have you looked? How long have you been searching?”

  “She hardly touched the tray I took her last eventide. I was worried, you understand. But her bed was empty, so I set about finding her.”

  “Where did your search take you?” Imogene’s tendency to ramble had never been more frustrating.

  The older woman’s dark eyes shone with unshed tears. “I’ve looked everywhere! She’s not within the castle walls. I just came from her chamber, milady. Her mantle, some of her gowns and her polished silver comb are missing. Lady Catherine gave her that comb, milady. Lady Rosalind would not be parted from it. I believe she’s run away.”

  “Did you check the stables?”

  “No, milady. I thought it best I inform you first.”

  “You’ve done well.”

  She gave the old woman’s narrow shoulder a gentle squeeze before heading across the hall. If Rosalind’s mare was gone, Imogene was likely correct.

  “Why didn’t I see this coming? She couldn’t force me to leave, so she chose to depart.” Alyssa’s stomach knotted as she recalled the emotion-ravaged gaze of her ward. She’d never seen Rosalind so angry or so hurt.

  “Where would she have gone?” Sariel fell into step beside her, his hand brushing the small of her back.

  Twisting away from his light touch, Alyssa moved aside so Sariel could open the door. “We don’t know for certain that she’s fled.” Even as she spoke the words, Alyssa knew Rosalind was gone, sensed her absence with an awareness Alyssa had forgotten she possessed. One day in Sariel’s company had awakened many things within her.

  She clenched her hands and hurried her step. If she hadn’t succumbed to her desire for their uninvited guest, Rosalind would not have run away.

  “This is not your fault.”

  His deep, caressing tone disturbed her as much as the casual brush of his hand. “Aye, it’s yours! If you had not come here, none of this would have happened.”

  He chuckled. “Perhaps, perhaps not. If I recall, you were searching for Rosalind yesterday as well. The conflict between you began before my arrival.”

  She suppressed the urge to stick her tongue out at him—barely—settling for a heated glower instead.

  They crossed the upper ward in silence, Alyssa lost in worry. Rosalind’s mare was missing as Alyssa feared.

  The marshal shuffled from foot to foot, avoiding her gaze as he spoke. “One of the stable boys saw her ride out just after dawn.”

  “Why was I not informed?” Alyssa demanded.

  “He only just told me. I immediately sent him to the hall to find you.”

  Sariel took her by the elbow and led her from the stable. Sunlight gleamed in his hair and caused the gold flecks in his eyes to sparkle. “I will find her.”

  Alyssa laughed and jerked her arm out of his light hold. “Why would I trust you to return her safely? This is the perfect opportunity for you to fulfill your mission.”

  “It’s the perfect opportunity for me to gather information. I’ll not deny that’s my intent, but I promised Lailah I wouldn’t pass judgment until she returns. I have never broken my word.”

  She studied his angular features as she debated the few options open to her. While their nature was pure, an angel could speak only truth. Would Sariel answer truthfully? “Were your children all born to the same mortal woman?”

&
nbsp; “What has that to do with Rosalind?” His gaze narrowed and he took a step back. He obviously did not want to talk about his past. If he spoke truthfully, she’d have some assurance Rosalind would be safe in his care. At least until Lailah returned.

  “Answer the question,” she insisted, watching his face closely.

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Tell me.”

  His jaw flexed and his eyes gleamed. “Nay.”

  “Is that the answer to my question or a refusal to answer?”

  “Three different women bore my children. Why bring this up now?”

  “Can you speak only truth?”

  “I am an angel!”

  “Pardon my confusion. Most angels would not touch me as you touched me last night. Most angels—”

  “Rosalind gains ground with each passing moment!” He forced his voice back to a conversational level. “I still have wings. Would you like me to search for her or not?”

  Wings. Sariel had wings.

  Had she once possessed wings? Did she have them still? Was there anything left of her angelic nature? Flashes of images assailed her. Sensations emerged from the mist. She soared above the earth, scanning as she flew. Strong currents of air streamed through her hair and resisted the strong flapping of her wings…

  “Show me.” Loss constricted her throat and made her temples pound.

  Sariel led her into the secluded shadows between two outbuildings. He scanned the area with a quick sweep of his eyes. They were alone. “Stand back. These quarters are nearly too tight.”

  Unfastening his fur-trimmed mantle, he tossed the garment to Alyssa. His scent filled her nose and the cloak was still warm from his body. She clutched it to her chest, wrapping the sturdy fabric around her hands.

  He faced her and extended his arms. Golden light burst from his back, illuminating the area. She held her breath, anticipation pounding through her blood. Delicately scalloped and emanating Heaven’s light, Sariel’s wings gracefully unfurled.

  Awe held her motionless.

  “Breathe.” He chuckled as she obeyed. “Where am I going? Tell me anywhere she might have gone.”

  “I want to go with you.”

  “Rosalind may return. It’s best if you remain here. Besides, I can fly faster without a passenger.”