Northern Lights

by Debra Dunbar

  His eyes were intent on my face. “Let’s close the ones that haven’t taken anyone, but we can take a quick peek through the others. If there’s any chance at all that a human could survive there, we’ll…I don’t know, take a day or two and go look.”

  “You’d do that?” Brent had forbidden me, and we’d ended up having a huge fight that still rankled, yet this angel I’d just met compromised. And I got the feeling he was doing it not just for me, but for the benefit of human lives too.

  He grinned, turning his pretty-boy sexy back into naughty-little-boy sexy. “Well, I’m hardly going to let you go by yourself. And yes, I’ll brave high levels of radiation, pits of lava, temperatures that solidify nitrogen, just so that you can sleep at night knowing you did all you could to save your people.”

  He got me. He really got me. I leaned back in my chair, against his hand, and broke our gaze to look back at the computer screen. He had a sense of humor. He was powerful, but he was capable of levity, of being silly and goofy, of being playful. He was gorgeous. He’d promised not to kill me. He actually cared about humans. I could work with that.

  I could fall in love with that. And unlike all the humans I’d cared about in the past, this angel wouldn’t age and die right before my eyes. Yes, I could fall in love with him. And I’d no doubt suffer heartache. He flirted with me. I got the feeling he wanted me. But I wasn’t fooling myself that an angel would want any more than a fling with a Nephilim. I wanted more than a fling. I wanted so much more than a fling. But sometimes a half-angel had to take whatever the universe offered.

  “Thank you. I owe you one.”

  Again I had that odd sensation of more warmth touching me. Something electric filled the air and from the naughty smirk on his face, I got the impression he was thinking of all sorts of things he could request in redeeming this favor.

  “And now it’s time for that mac and cheese.” I stood and walked past him to the kitchen, feeling overwhelmed by the speed at which things seemed to be moving. I had an angel in my house. He was flirting with me — at least it seemed like he was. How in the world was I going to be able to get any sleep knowing he was out here on my couch, probably naked? Oh, God. Naked. And now as I put a pot of water on to boil and got out a box of mac and cheese, I was envisioning me naked on the couch with him.

  Chapter 9

  “I see you weren’t kidding about your choice of food. Mac and cheese. Canned soup. You’ve got more box dinners than a doomsday prepper in these cabinets.”

  He’d followed me. I didn’t have to look, or even hear his comment to know. I could feel him, sense where he was in my house. It was as if there was a non-physical part of me acutely aware of this angel.

  “Nope. I never kid about instant dinners. Tomorrow you can pick from my selection of canned soups, but tonight it’s mac and cheese. And if you’re lucky, I’ll throw some bacon in there.”

  He came closer, and once again I felt as if he were touching me, sparking every nerve ending, even though he was at least four feet away. “Am I lucky?”

  Wow, that question was loaded. Dare I go there? Why yes, I think I will.

  “Absolutely. Keep going and you won’t be sleeping on the couch.”

  What was I doing? I was so going to go to hell. Angels probably didn’t have normal sex. They probably didn’t even have cocks. I’ll bet all this flirting was leading up to us playing harps and singing Hallelujah. I was going to go to bed horribly frustrated. Although he had been joking with me about beavers earlier, and there were those incredibly lewd lyrics to that song.

  “Really? Am I to sleep on the porch then? On the floor? Is there a dog house outside that I’m now supposed to crawl into? Where do you propose that I sleep?”

  Oh, that deep, teasing voice of his. I’ll bet if I looked at him right now he’d be smiling that wicked little boy smile with that dimple in his cheek. But I wasn’t going to look. No looking. Otherwise I would lose the little bit of control I had. Instead I dumped the noodles into the boiling water and swished them around so they wouldn’t stick together. Then I dug my colander out from a cabinet. It all gave me time to think, time to slow down my raging libido.

  “It depends. Where you bed down for the night depends upon my mood at the time.”

  “And what do I need to do to ensure you are in an optimal mood?”

  Get naked. Do the dishes, preferably while naked. Tell me my painting of beavers in the stream is so amazing it belongs in a museum.

  “You’re not gay, are you? And does sex involve stringed instruments with you guys? I mean, I’m assuming you’re not gay, but you’re really pretty, like really-really pretty. And how do you feel about harp music?” That’s what came out of my mouth instead.

  I heard the rumble of his laugh. “Not a big fan of harps. And gay as in happy, or gay as in homosexual?”

  “The latter. Although I’m thinking it might be nice if you were happy.”

  He was silent a moment, while I stared at the noodles churning in the boiling water.

  “Angels are beings of spirit, and we do not have genders. I can appear in a male or female form, but in our spirit-self we are neither.”

  Okay. Weird, but okay. Still didn’t quite answer my question, though. “You look male right now. If you were going to have physical sex with a human, would you choose a guy or a girl?”

  “Angels of Order should not lower their vibration levels to indulge in sins of the flesh. Beyond that we’re forbidden from having sex with humans, so I wouldn’t choose either a guy or a girl.”

  What a crock of shit. “You might be forbidden, but clearly it happens. I doubt I’m the only Nephilim to be born in the last five thousand years. So if you were going to break the rules and send your vibration levels, whatever they are, into the gutter, would you go for male or female?”

  “Neither. And you’re not a Nephilim.”

  I turned to stare at him wide-eyed. “Raphael, I am Nephilim. I’ve been told my whole life that the angels would kill me if they found me. I now wonder how true that is after meeting Nisroc and you, but the humans and werewolves honestly believed it. And my father, who gave me to the humans for safekeeping, clearly believed it too.”

  The angel ran a hand through his dark hair. “Call me Rafi. And your sire gave you to the humans for safekeeping because knew he would suffer punishment, and quite possibly death, for his sin. Yes, some angels would have killed you, still might kill you, if they find you. Most would have sent you to Hel.” He leaned closer. “But not because you’re a Nephilim, Ahia. Because you’re an angel. You’re a full angel. And because you’re an Angel of Chaos, you’re not supposed to be in Aaru or here among the humans. Hel or death are your choices. Those are the fates your sire feared you’d face. And honestly, he probably feared for his own life just as much as he feared for yours.”

  It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be. I shook my head. “No, I’m a Nephilim. If I were a full angel, someone would have known. Someone would have told me.”

  “Nisroc knew. You’ll have to ask him why he didn’t tell you. You’re an angel and he definitely knew. Nephilim don’t have wings. Nephilim can’t see the rifts and wild gateways. Nephilim can’t do this.”

  I felt that warmth, that zing that ran through every cell of my body. And this time I felt something more. It was like he was caressing me, stroking my skin without even touching me. I felt something deep within myself leap to the surface, eager for his touch.

  And then I pulled away, backing myself against the edge of the stove. “What is that? How do you do that?”

  He tilted his head, his smile uncertain. “You’re a being of spirit. Angels manifest physical form here among the humans, but it’s not how we truly are. That was my spirit-self touching your spirit-self. Angels and demons are the only beings who can do this.”

  I spun around to face the stove and think. This was too much. An angel. I couldn’t be an angel. If I were, then my parents had abandoned me. They’d made me, then tossed me to
the humans to take care of. What the hell did they intend? Was I supposed to go to Hel and live with my…mother, or whatever my demon parent was? She’d ditched me with ‘dad’“.” And he’d handed me off to the humans. For over five thousand years I’d seen so many generations born and die that I truly felt adrift, as if I were without a family. I’d had some fantasy of my father’s grief when my mother died, or that they’d both died and that’s why no one had come for me. But no, they made an angel that wouldn’t be welcome anywhere and dropped me off on the humans’ doorstep like an unwanted puppy at the pound.

  “That’s not what happened, Ahia.” I felt his hands on my shoulders, the heat from him against my back, felt his breath at the side of my head. “I know what you’re thinking and it’s not true. Five thousand years is nothing to an angel. I’m three billion years old. Your maker couldn’t take you to Hel, it would have been too dangerous there for a young Angel of Chaos, and your sire couldn’t take you to Aaru. But things are changing. I’m sure they both meant to come back for you.”

  “Are you? Because I’m not.” I should have gone to get the bacon out of the fridge, but I didn’t want to walk away from his comforting warmth, his hands on my shoulders.

  His thumbs began doing little circles on my shoulder. “Yes, I’m sure. Never feel alone, Ahia. The humans and werewolves may not live as long as we do, but their affection is deep and sincere. You are precious to them, otherwise they wouldn’t have welcomed you into their homes, as a member of their family. And someday, you will be reunited with your sire. Someday soon you will have a family, a choir of angels that love you. Nisroc cares for you. And…others will too.”

  I got the feeling he had been one syllable from saying he cared too. I just met this angel. Literally just met him a few hours ago. But it was more than only lust between us. Something about him felt so right. His sense of humor, his kindness, his perceptiveness, his hands on my shoulders.

  “Are you an Angel of Chaos or an Angel of Order?” I knew there were two types of angels, but didn’t know much about them or exactly what had happened in that war so many millions of years ago.

  Raphael’s thumbs stopped the circles on my shoulder and his hand moved up next to my neck. “I’m an Angel of Order. Sort of. It’s a long story.”

  One that I wanted to hear, after we’d known each other longer than all of a few hours. “And do you have sex? I mean, you said you’d–“” Ugh, what was I saying? I blamed hormones. I hadn’t had sex since Brent and I called it quits over two decades ago, and this angel had stirred me up from the moment he’d appeared in my living room.

  He chuckled. It was a low throaty sound that shot heat right down between my legs. “Some of the more sinful and naughty among us have physical sexual intercourse. Demons definitely have physical sexual intercourse. All angels do something similar to sex that involves our spirit-beings. Some really kinky angels like to do both.”

  I caught my breath. Oh wow. I loved kinky.

  “We’re non-gendered, but some Angels of Order are attracted to their own kind, while others prefer Angels of Chaos or demons, and vice versa.”

  His fingers caressed the side of my neck. I stared intently at the macaroni noodles, wondering how mushy they would be if we ran to my bedroom for quick sex right now. Five minutes. Or maybe thirty. Or maybe I should just turn the stove off and forget about dinner.

  “So do you like Angels of Order or Angels of Chaos?” He was beautiful, too perfectly beautiful. And I wanted him like I’d never wanted anyone before in my long life.

  “I have always preferred Angels of Chaos.” His hands brushed my hair aside and I felt him put his lips against the side of my neck. “And yes, I am very, very kinky.”

  Forget the macaroni, I was ready to melt into this guy. He was gorgeous, and built. He radiated power that drew me in just as much as his looks. And he was kissing my neck. I leaned back against him and closed my eyes, tilting my head to give him better access. Maybe this was just a fling for him — a quickie. Would I be okay with that? Me, the love-them-and-leave-them queen? How would it feel to be on the other side of that equation?

  I was too far gone to back out now. His mouth sliding kisses down my neck, his hands dropping from my shoulders to my hips, pulling me tight against him. That weird feeling of coming alive inside my skin, of touching-but-not-touching increased. Something deep inside me rose to the surface, to merge with him. Kinky was an incredible understatement for this experience. Was this the something extra that angels brought into the equation? Spirit dick? Whatever it was, I wanted more, pushing both my body and that other part of me against him, reveling in the burn of his energy on my skin. I was so going to fuck this guy. Well, more like he was going to fuck me. And I was going to enjoy every second of it.

  My front door slammed open. “Ahia! Got a problem up in Yakutat!”

  Chapter 10

  Brent. Raphael jumped away from me. For a moment I thought it was because he didn’t want the werewolf to see him in a compromising position with me, but as he strode from the kitchen I realized he was contemplating tearing Brent to shreds for the interruption.

  Oh how funny. An angel cock-blocked by a werewolf. I had every intention of having Raphael naked and in my bed, but I was crazy enough to want some fun first. Making an angel jealous. Yep, certifiably crazy.

  I raced out and beat the angel to Brent, who scowled when he saw who — and what — my companion was.

  “You okay, Ahia?”

  The werewolf puffed up his chest, ready to defend me. I was pack. He was the Alpha. My safety was his responsibility, even if he did get smashed to a pulp by an angel. I understood his motivations. Raphael clearly did not. The angel’s wings burst into view, the power rolling off him making it hard to breathe.

  He was peacocking. And that was an absolutely accurate term for his amazing wings. They were the lightest lavender at the top, the purple shade darkening in a gradient to near black at the flight feathers. Fucking gorgeous. Just like the rest of this angel.

  “Yes, she’s okay. Who are you?”

  There was so going to be a cockfight. And bad me was practically salivating at the prospect. Poor Brent didn’t stand a chance, and I was a horrible, horrible pack-mate and best friend to want an epic battle between the two.

  “Brent. And who are you?”

  They were no more than two feet apart, almost within the danger zone of personal space when it came to werewolf etiquette.

  The wings spread out. “Raphael,” the angel snarled. “You’re the Alpha? The one who helped kill the chimera?”

  “Yeah. What’s it to you?”

  Fight, fight, fight!

  “You’ve been hiding her.” Raphael pointed to me. “That’s a violation of your existence contract. I’m sure that’s the tip of the iceberg as far as your and your pack’s violations.”

  He was trying to scare Brent, to intimidate him into either backing down or revealing a weakness. I didn’t know about werewolves elsewhere, but in Alaska, wolves didn’t back down. And they never sacrificed a pack member, even if it was the only way to protect the rest of the group. If I were truly in danger, the entire pack would come to my defense, and nothing Raphael could say would convince them to abandon me.

  It’s one of the things I loved about this furry group that I considered mine.

  “Cut it out, Pretty-boy.” I reached out to grab the top of the angel’s left wing, steering him to the side and away from Brent. I knew how sensitive these things were, and doubted he’d try to pull away from me and risk bending, or bruising, the wing.

  What I didn’t expect was the way it felt in my hand. The feathers were silky soft. Something warm hummed through them, something that traveled up my hand and into my very soul. Something that stirred a feeling — lust and more.

  The angel turned his head, tilting the wing forward and increasing the pressure of my hand on the feathers. Violet eyes met mine, and reflected that same spark. I caught my breath, wanting nothing more than to
fall into Raphael’s arms, even with Brent right there in my living room.

  “Ahia?”

  Shit. “Yeah. Yep. This is Raphael. He is the one the Ruling Council sent to help close the rifts. It’s a two-person job, so I’m helping him. He’s promised me immunity in return. He won’t kill me.”

  I was hoping he’d do other things to me. Like right now. Like as soon as Brent left.

  Brent turned his scowl on me. “You called in an angel to help? Ahia, what were you thinking? He could have just as easily killed you as work with you. We’ve got the chimera under control. We don’t need him.”

  “Yes we do need him,” I argued. I still had my hand on Raphael’s wing, oddly reluctant to let go of the soft feathers. “We need to close the rifts. We can’t keep killing chimera every few days, and that hydra isn’t going down easy. Plus, the drop bears — remember the drop bears? If these things open up all across Alaska and start spilling out monsters, the three packs and the humans aren’t going to be able to keep up. And what if something comes through that’s worse than the hydra? Like a dragon, or something like that? We need to close the rifts, and we need someone around or on call who can make closing new ones a priority.”

  My speech seemed to reduce the testosterone level in the room — at least the portion coming from the angel. Brent still glared, now at me as well as Raphael.

  “I came here to tell you that some winged-things came through near Skagway. A group of hunters shot them, but they grabbed two and went back through the rift at nightfall.”

  “Grabbed two what?” Raphael asked. “Humans? Elk? Polar bears?”