by Willa Blair
Darach kept hold of her hand until they stood on the opposite side of the bed. A large circumference of something dark marred the fibers.
“That’s blood, isn’t it?”
“Aye, and it’s several hours old. Whatever happened probably took place not long after Cecil got up.”
“He’s dead isn’t he?”
“We dinnae know that for sure, Abby. I’ll call a friend of mine on the NOLA police force.”
Abby’s mind spun. “Does he know what you are?”
“No, he doesn’t. Over the centuries, I’ve found it better to keep that information to myself. The only reason you ken is because I couldn’t wipe your memory away or replace it with another.”
“I see. Well, I say let’s call your friend…and…”
“And after that, ye are going back home where it’s safe.”
Abby stopped Darach’s movement to call the police. “Do you think it could have been a demon?”
“I don’t smell any sulfuric fumes, so probably not. Still, the demon world can and will use mortals to do their bidding.”
“But why Cecil? He’s harmless, he never bothers a soul.”
Abby watched Darach’s eyes. They went from ebony to silver in less than a second.
“Oh no…if demons were behind this attack, it’s because of me.”
Horror that her actions in any way could cause another harm, made Abby bend double at the waist to gulp in much needed air. Realization that she’d seen this before hit—seen Cecil’s blood in her vision. As she grappled with that horror, time froze for a moment. Another vision creased her brain, black spots danced before her eyes, and she prayed she wouldn’t pass out.
****
Angus watched as his minions dragged and then dropped the old one, who was a friend of Abby’s, on the floor. He would unwittingly help Angus get the justice he craved when it came to Darach.
A thorn in his side while he was alive and mortal, Darach had gained a name as one of the best immortals to come out of Heaven’s gates. Even if he didn’t have a score to settle with his soon-to-be dearly departed cousin, for the second time, he would want to take him down for being the cause of so many demons deaths. His goal as always, to have Lucifer’s ear, and the riches he was cheated out of on earth.
Michael made his way from God’s throne room back to his office. His mood was fractious, not at all what an angel of God’s should be, let alone an archangel, but he couldn’t shake it off. Events were unfolding, put into play by Lucifer, that could injure a man he claimed as friend, although, he wasn’t at all sure Darach would feel the same way. He’d pushed the immortal time after time to be the best, but all the training in the world could not control the heart and soul. Michael shrugged his shoulders before sitting down behind his desk. Patience was a virtue he needed badly at the moment, and something his boss just told him to find in spades, for he’d been warned not to interfere no matter what.
Chapter Seven
Darach laid his precious burden down on top of her bed. He stripped her coat off and then stood looking down at Abby. She’d almost frightened him out of his immortal skin when she’d fainted. Probably for the best; it enabled him to transport her back to the house without any protests.
He needed to get her out of her jeans and sweater. Would Michael slap him with a lightning bolt? Darach decided to take a chance—she needed to be comfortable. Footwear first, then he’d go from there. He unlaced her shoes, pulled off the thermal socks next to her skin, took a deep breath, and sighed.
Undressing Abby would not be easy. So far, she’d been an instrument of lust for him while fully clothed. Even her nightwear made him hard as the rocks lining the shore of the lochs in Scotland.
“Stop being a ninny. Ye can do this.” After his brief and not very inspiring words, Darach set to work. He eased to the head of the bed, grasped the heather-colored material at her waist, and brought it upward; however, he met with a problem. The material would not go past her chest. The firm mounds of flesh he glimpsed under the sweater’s hem beckoned him to touch them. He closed his eyes against the temptation.
Not only would Michael zap him into the next room, he would probably put him to work cleaning swords. Gradually and with hands that shook so badly he dropped the offending garment twice, he was finally able to pull it off her head,
The material cupping and enticing the view of her breasts could stay where it was. He was only a man, regardless of being immortal. Besides, if he got anywhere near the taut pink nipples playing peek-a-boo between the lace, he would not be answerable for any of his actions.
After several more deep breaths, Darach undid the button to her jeans, and slid the zipper down. His breath stalled in his throat, and his manhood went from rock consistency to concrete. The same peach material covering her breasts caressed her slender but slightly rounded belly, hid her mons. He wanted to see what lay beneath the material so badly he shook with lust.
No. He would never take advantage of someone in his care. Darach finished his task, but stopped when he saw the scar high on Abby’s thigh. He wondered how she came by it. Not sure if he would ask her or not, he pulled a blanket lying at the foot of the bed over Abby. He forced himself to leave her and made his way downstairs. He needed to call his contact at the police department. And it might be a good idea to talk to Michael, but given his lustful thoughts—maybe not.
****
Abby woke to the sound of a phone ringing somewhere in the house and to find herself in her own bed. How had she gotten there? Her brow creased as she tried to remember. Oh no! Cecil.
She sat up so fast her head spun just as it did right before she passed out. Something she’d never done before and never wanted to do again. Then it hit her. She’d had another vision. Chills dotted her flesh. Abby tried to still her rapidly escalating breath. Darach had been in the vision. Not only that he starred in it and if her vision was correct, he would die.
Her heart ached at the thought. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what she’d seen. The background playing across her lids was not familiar to her, nor was the ornate blade being thrust into his body. As she watched Darach stopped fighting, his eyes closed, and then nothing. Oh Lord, when and where would it happen, and could telling him prevent his death?
So many questions warred inside her head. Foremost she needed to see Darach. Where was he?
Abby pushed the blanket aside and then stopped dead still.
Why was she only in her underwear? How did her clothes get removed? Darach? Oh Lord, she hoped not. Just the thought of him looking at her naked sent heat spiraling through her body and not all of it was due to her attraction to him.
Okay, enough. She needed to get dressed and get downstairs. No matter how much she wanted to daydream about her and Darach being together that way, Cecil was missing and the possibility of harm to Darach bothered her greatly. She prayed the blade represented Darach’s death in the past, but there was no way of knowing. Right now she needed to know if Darach was all right and second if he’d found out anything.
She threw her clothes on, not bothering with shoes, and hurried downstairs to run right into the man in her thoughts.
“Slow down before ye get hurt.” Darach sounded tense.
“I’m sorry, I was in a hurry. Who was on the phone? Did you talk to your friend?”
“Aye, Sean says he will check out Cecil’s apartment.”
Abby wasn’t pleased with that answer. “Is that all? Can’t he do something else? Cecil could be dead.”
“Abby, he could be, and if he is there’s not going to be anything Sean can do or ye or I for that matter.” He took her by the elbow and her attempt to shake him off was futile.
“Come and sit down. I know ’tis not what you want to hear, but that’s—”
“That’s what?” She succeeded this time in jerking free of his light grasp. She was so not in a mood to listen to him. “Policy for policemen, immortals? What?”
“What has ye in such a mo
od?”
“Try my friend disappearing, a policeman who acts like nothing can be done, and a man I hardly know undresses me down to my unmentionables. I’d say that’s enough to put anyone into a mood.” Abby could have bitten her tongue. She had not meant to voice that last thought only to keep him from asking more questions. She wanted to keep the vision from him.
“I swear I only wanted ye to be comfortable. I didnaee even look…”
When his voice trailed off, Abby gave him a cocked eyebrow and a stare she hoped would singe his hair.
“Well, I didnae look much.” The heat climbing his cheeks almost made her laugh, but Darach still wasn’t off the hook.
“You shouldn’t have looked at all.” A slight smile crept onto her lips against her will.
“Abby, even a saint couldna keep his gaze off the lovely sight of your bonny body.”
Zap! He burned the last of the angst out of her with his words.
“Thank you…I think. Now that we have that out of the way, what are we going to do about Cecil?”
Darach closed the distance between them before speaking. “I will take care of this, Abby. Ye can do nothing.”
“I beg to differ, big man. I can help look.”
“No, ye need—”
The phone rang silencing the rest of his sentence. Abby grabbed the phone from its charger before Darach could beat her to it. It might be the lieutenant calling back.
“Hello.”
“Abby, this is Chaz. I need you to come in to work.”
“Chaz, no…I’m off until the middle of next week. You promised.” Abby did nothing to disguise her aggravation.
“Look, I know I promised, but Lisa is sick, she caught something from one of her kids and can’t work. We need you. I need you.” Her boss’s tone was sugary sweet, but Abby wasn’t buying it, nor did she believe his story about Lisa. She probably had a date.
“Hey, we both know what she’s likely doing, and I don’t want to work.”
“You don’t work and you don’t have a job.”
There it was—the tone she knew. Abrupt and uncaring.
“Fine.” Abby clicked off and slammed the phone back down.
“What’s wrong?”
“I have to go to work.”
“’Tis a holiday, I thought ye were off.”
“Yeah, well, so did I. But if I don’t go in, I won’t have a job. And without this second job, I won’t be able to keep the house.” Abby was so mad she wanted to scream.
“I can help with that, Abby. I have—”
She caught the hand he extended, patted it, and then let it drop. “Thanks, but I have to stand on my own two feet. You won’t always be around…check that, you will be around, but not necessarily here. I have to be able to take care of myself, without anyone doing it for me.”
“I want to help, and besides ye don’t need to go out tonight.”
“Darach, I appreciate your offer, your being here to protect me, but you are not my keeper. I have to keep going as I plan to after you’re gone. So, I’m going to the club. You can come with me or not, I don’t care.”
****
Darach, if he could, would pull out his teeth one by one. It would be no worse than trying to talk sense to a woman who refused to listen.
The short walk to the club had consisted of more than the bite of weather. Abby’s demeanor had been icy as well. Just because he didn’t think she needed to wear so much face paint. Not to mention, the dress she wore revealed too much of the body he wanted no other man to see.
They reached the side door of the club, and Abby turned to face him. “Look, I know you don’t like this, but it’s my job. Try to behave, please.”
“I willna not promise something I be not sure I can deliver.”
“Oh please, stop with the brogue already. I don’t care how sexy it sounds, it’s not going to work. I’m going in there and do my job. I don’t strip, I sing. I’m fully clothed and the tips and my salary help pay bills.”
Darach’s eyes were glued to Abby’s buttocks as she turned and pushed through the door. The woman was going to kill him. And did she really think his brogue sexy? He’d been an immortal for so long, he hadn’t realized he’d retained some of his Scottish accent. Now, he couldn’t help the full-fledged grin pulling his lips apart.
Almost at the same instant, it faded. Abby was in there alone, and he needed to be stuck to her side like a lamb with its ma. Only he had no feelings of familial affection toward the woman. He wanted her like a man wanted—no, needed a woman.
Darach pushed through the door, allowed his eyes to adjust to the smoke-filled room, and then his gaze found Abby.
She stood talking to a man he supposed was Chaz, the manager, and looked none too happy about it. Neither did Chaz. A moment later, she marched up the steps of the stage, nodded to the guy on the keyboard, and closed her eyes.
The memorable notes of “The Rising Sun” echoed throughout the bar. Patrons stopped drinking, eating, and talking. The haunting tale, and the picture Abby made as she sang mesmerized Darach himself. Her eyes, now open, glowed an unfathomable blue, her lips were round and sensual as she sounded out each syllable, and the thrust of her breasts against the low, round neck of her emerald green cocktail dress drew the eyes of every man present.
He didn’t like it, not at all.
“Can I get you a drink, mister?”
“Scottish whiskey, straight up.” Darach gave his order without taking his eyes off of Abby.
“You got it, sugar.”
When the waitress returned, he handed her a couple of twenties. “I’ll be in that corner, bring me another in a bit.”
“You want ya change back?”
“Keep it.”
“Sure thing, mister, thanks.”
Darach made his way to a table secluded from the ones lining the stage. The corner offered a dim light that suited his mood. With his back against the wall, he concentrated on watching the crowd as they watched Abby.
Bugger it; he didn’t like her job at all. She was too close to too many desperate men. And he was one of them. Trying to keep his mind off of making love to Abby was harder than trying not to breathe. He was certain Michael knew what it was doing to him, and probably why he hadn’t gotten the usual notes the archangel liked to send out to his immortal team.
His life had been so simple for a millennium. Although, he hadn’t lived as a monk, his sexual encounters had been few and far between. In fact, the last time he’d been with a woman was during Desert Storm.
It had taken Darach centuries after he became an immortal to even bed a woman. His heart bled for Briene for so long he felt to do so would betray her and Jamie’s memories. The long years hadn’t erased his guilt or hurt, but the once sharp pain had turned into a dull endless ache.
He not only wanted to bed Abby, he wanted to hear her laugh, watch her eyes sparkle with mischievousness, and to always keep her safe.
Abby’s second set had barely started when the waitress brought him another drink. The whiskey burned his throat but didn’t faze the flames burning below his waist.
The song was a combination of sensuality, love gone wrong, and revenge. The patrons were eating it up. As she went through several of the same type of lyrics, he gritted his teeth, and slugged down the rest of the liquor.
His hand tightened around the glass until he feared it would shatter. Just when his self-control was at an end, Abby laid the microphone down and walked off the stage.
Darach was on his feet and on his way to meet her when one of the men gathered around the stage stopped her. Abby’s blue eyes widened, and she tried to take back the hand the man had appropriated. Instead of knocking men and women out of his way, as was his inclination, he bided his time until he reached her side.
“Release the lady.” His words were icicles of sound. The man turned toward Darach and looked up.
“And if I don’t?” The burly fisherman, for he carried the scent of a long day on the gulf, sn
eered at Darach.
He resisted the urge to slam Abby’s admirer across the room. “Well, I didnae plan on getting me hands dirty, but if it’s a fight ye seek, then you’re welcome to throw the first punch.”
The man hesitated just a second before punching the air where Darach had just stood. Now at the man’s side, he threw an arm over the shorter man’s shoulders, leaned down, and whispered.
“Abby Dupree is my woman. I willna hesitate to hurt ye in ways ye can only imagine. Now, run along like a good little mortal.”
Whatever the man saw in Darach’s gaze must have put the fear of God in him, for his eyes rolled back, he began to tremble, and then he ran for the exit.
“Darach, I told you I didn’t need your help. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.” Abby’s hand massaged a red place on her wrist. He should have mangled the man’s bones for hurting her.
“Not another word.”
“But, I—”
“Silence.”
Darach grasped Abby’s arm, but made sure his grip wasn’t hard. He tugged her to the corridor near the bathrooms, pulled her against him, and then sealed her protest with his lips.
****
Angus sneered at the broken and lifeless man at his feet. When he’d been mortal, men were made of stronger stuff, even the aged soldiers. The teacher had not even put up a fight while being tortured. No fun at all for Angus, but his next victim would be more of a challenge.
And soon, very soon, he would attain the confrontation he wanted more than a drink of water when he first arrived in Hell’s realm.
Reminder: No matter how much I want to, I cannot zap Darach with a lightning bolt. To give in to my emotions would put me on the same level as the immortals I trained. Never show feelings is my motto. I cannot persevere in the fight against evil if I give in.
From the desk of Michael/ Archangel To God