Isaiah's Undoing- the Warrior's Curse

by Tigris Eden

  Grey never used a Pleasure Angel, and Castiel remained untouched. He detested the thought of anyone touching him. Raz was cut from a different cloth altogether. He used them in vast quantities, as well as dallied with others. It was even reported that he had been with many mortals.

  Isaiah counted himself lucky that he would never go through the mating burn, an intense fire of need that would overtake him should he ever claim his mate. A thing that would never happen. Blue flames would engulf him and his woman, forging an eternal bond that was meant to stand the test of time throughout all the ages.

  No matter where they were on Earth, or in any realm, they would always be locked to one another. One heart. One mind. One soul. It was the ultimate freedom for his kind.

  The collar would be removed at the mating ceremony, and the two would become one. Casting away all others, they would enter a state of Omurukai, one of the highest of the high. If she was as fierce as her Warrior Angel, the Nubi would then ascend to the status of Jabari, and there, his woman would become a fierce warrior in her own right, and an ally to their purposes, guarding and policing the realms.

  Isaiah shook the thought from his mind and realized he was massaging his collar. Unattainable. In every way possible, it was completely unattainable. He wondered a bit more, thinking what his mate would look like. Brown sugar skin, or desert sand, softer than any silkworm could spin? Aroma so dark and inviting that he’d want to take her every chance he got?

  “Shall I attend you, Isaiah?” Lana asked. He focused his gaze on her, and for the slightest moment, he imagined it was Dalila tending to his needs.

  “No, that is not necessary. See to it that Dalila has fresh clothes laid out for her in the morning, and that a bath is drawn up. Dress her as you would dress yourself.” He was foolish in dressing her in Angel’s attire, but he wanted her dressed that way. He told himself it was to maintain balance within the estate. Too many questions would be asked.

  You just want to see her dressed to your liking.

  “Yes, I will see it taken care of.” Lana then headed out of the study, leaving Isaiah to his thoughts and his drink.

  Ω Ω Ω

  Dalila was exhausted, and she still hadn’t been able to contact Lyric. She needed to talk to her friend before things got really out of hand. Lyric was the only one who understood her and the things she dealt with. Dealing with Apophis had gotten to her. Her claws had literally reared their ugly heads. She prayed that no one had noticed. Some things were better left alone.

  Her pulsed raced to a level it hadn’t reached in a long while. The last time that had happened, someone had been hurt.

  Derek had almost lost his life, and she’d only been sixteen then. He’d kept taunting her, telling her that she was too tall, too boyish, that no one would ever want to date her. Her foster mother had told her that boys only said such things because they liked her, but that wasn’t the case with Derek.

  He had tormented her for weeks, throwing things at her at the lunch table, rallying the other children to make fun of her. Everywhere her foster mother had moved, it had all been the same. Dalila was disrupting the class with her behavior, when all she’d been doing was protecting herself, not allowing the others to bully her.

  Derek had followed her home from school one day. She’d taken the path that none of the other children took, making the trek home that much longer to avoid their sneers and name-calling. He’d followed her and pushed her to the ground, ripping her shirt down the middle as he tried to force himself on her.

  Dalila had fought him every step of the way, and when he’d cupped her sex, a powerful rage overtook her. It was so strong that it had rattled her bones.

  She’d blacked out, but when she woke, Derek’s body lay almost lifeless beside her. His breathing was shallow, and his face was clawed. She could see muscle and bone where his flesh had once covered his jaw. It looked as if he’d been attacked by a wild animal. That was when Lyric had walked from the shadows of the trees and calmed her, promising that nothing ill-fated would happen to her, and that she would take care of Derek.

  She’d given Dalila her cell and asked that she call her the following day. Too scared to stay and pay the consequences, she’d fled. She was glad that whatever had happened to Derek had not happened to her.

  She’d locked herself in her room for the next couple of days, telling her foster mother that she was ill and unable to return to school. Days had passed, and no one had come inquiring about Derek’s injuries or to question her. Surely, he had told them that she was there with him. Then again, maybe he hadn’t, because he knew that she would tell them how he had tried to rape her.

  When Dalila had shown up at school, it was as if she had walked into the Twilight Zone. Derek would not even look her way. She could feel him staring at her back, and when she turned, sensing his eyes, he would quickly look away. His face looked almost healed, but not entirely. Maybe she had imagined that she had seen the bone and muscle of his jaw. Perhaps she was so traumatized by the event that she’d presumed him almost dead.

  Not knowing what was going on, Dalila had pulled out the number she’d been given by the stranger and made the call. Lyric and Dalila were inseparable after that day.

  Dalila knew that Lyric would be sick with worry, and she needed to get to a phone and fast. But the room was sparsely decorated, just enough for a person to be comfortable. There was no phone in sight, and she knew there wouldn’t be one in the bathroom either.

  Just peachy. If anyone can get me out of this mess, it’s Lyric.

  Dalila trusted Lyric, and it wouldn’t matter that these men were Seraphim. Lyric wouldn’t even balk at the idea. She’d relish it, laughing in their faces and pissing on their shoes.

  Stepping toward the door, Dalila leaned her head close, listening for anyone passing or someone that might be out in the hall standing guard. She pushed down on the lever and gently pushed the door ajar, looking from left to right to see if anyone was around.

  Noticing the halls were empty, she quickly stepped through, heading back toward the stairs. There was bound to be a phone somewhere in the house. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she noticed a warm glow bathing the marble floor. The door was shut, but as she walked closer, she could hear the clink of ice in a glass.

  You don’t have time to be nosy, find a phone.

  She continued forward until she reached a great room with its huge fireplace. Chairs and couches were placed strategically, making the hearth the centerpiece. Next to one of the chairs on a table sat a cordless phone.

  Thank you! Dalila thought to herself as she reached for the phone.

  “Touch that phone, mortal, and consequences be damned, I will end you.”

  Startled, Dalila looked up to see the brother from earlier, the one with the violet eyes. He stood in the darkened corner of the room, blending perfectly with the shadows. She could barely make out his outline in the dark.

  Dalila took a couple of steps back and almost knocked over a chair.

  “You are right to fear me, human.” The words sliced the air in quick lunges, aimed for her head as he stalked forward.

  “I haven’t done anything to you, so check your attitude at the door. And I am not a hostage here, so I can make a damn phone call.”

  I will make that phone call.

  Defiantly, she took a step forward, and the Seraph paused in his attempt to move. His wings were at half-mast, and he looked way too big for the room that was suddenly swallowed by his presence.

  “You put too much faith in yourself if you think that I will not harm you. I do not have to touch you to inflict pain.” She remembered what Raz had done to her in the hall back at the farmhouse, and she inwardly shivered. That was pain, and if this one was threatening more pain, she would have none of it.

  “I just want to make a call. I need to call my friend. She will be worried about me.” She reached again for the phone, and before she could grab it, he whipped it from its holder and smashed it agains
t the wall behind her head.

  “You think to disobey me, human? You think that you’re better than me because you feel you were chosen?” He laughed then, a cold, menacing sound that froze the blood in Dalila’s veins.

  “You, who was made from dust and clay, given freedom to do what you will. I have nothing but contempt for your kind, and do not mistake it for jealousy. I would never want to be what you are: parasites—the lot of you—killing and procreating, masturbating to the point that you’ve choked the orgasm right out of life.” He scoffed.

  “I can’t breathe for the smell of you festering in my nostrils, making me smell your fear mixed with desire. We can all smell how you want our brother, you know. You see him not in the way he is meant to be seen. Cast your thoughts elsewhere, because he will never want you. Never.”

  The last words scratched her insides raw, making Dalila feel empty inside. They were but a breath apart now, he’d walked right up to her, and Dalila was frozen in place by fear. How could such a beautiful creature harbor such hate? She’d never done anything to him—or his brothers for that matter.

  Dalila was just about to tell him where he could rot when the doors down the hall burst open, and Isaiah walked into the living room.

  Chapter 11

  “Get the fuck away from her,” said Isaiah through gritted teeth. He felt tired and pissed; hell, the more correct term would be frustrated. His dick was hard enough to demolish the house. He’d been in a perpetual state of arousal since before he could remember. The one thing he was certain of was that his dick hadn’t been like this until she showed up.

  Castiel was almost nose-to-nose with her. If he touched her, Isaiah wasn’t sure if he could let him live. His own brother. The violet stare of his brother’s eyes met his gray ones. Castiel didn’t even move and, apparently, Dalila wasn’t going to move either. She stood her ground, and he could see her frustration in the way the vein at her neck jumped. She was working double-time on her back teeth, and if she kept that up, she was going to grind them to dust.

  Isaiah gave Castiel a mental push.

  “Push me again,” Castiel whispered with menace. “Push me one more time, brother, and I will lay your ass flat. Commander or not, I will hurt you.” Castiel’s breathing was erratic. He was wired up on his hate, his loathing for humans and all things mortal. Isaiah knew his reason, even sympathized with it. But in this, he would fight him.

  Isaiah took a step forward, and Dalila had the sense to move back away from the two. Castiel held his ground, not moving, daring Isaiah to push him.

  “You ever talk to her that way again or presume to know my intentions or feelings, I will decommission you.”

  “Decommission me? Over her?” Castiel laughed and jutted his chin in Dalila’s direction. “She means nothing to you. You protect her out of honor, not love. Your dick may be in lust for her, but brother, be truthful to yourself and to her. Can you even imagine what will become of this situation if it progresses? She is not Nubi. Will never be Jabari. And you shall never reach Omurukai. Must you parade her foul stench in front of me? You offend me with her presence.”

  Castiel raised his hand in a show of anger, then with a motion, he lifted Dalila off her feet and held her suspended above the floor.

  “Let’s be done with her. Allow me to erase her mind. I will take great care to wipe us from her thoughts. We can leave her in Sanctuary, the monks there need to be utilized in the good fight.”

  Without thinking, Isaiah knocked Castiel to the floor with a shocking blow, yet he hadn’t moved a step. Dalila, still suspended by Castiel’s power, gasped in horror.

  A small rumbling turned into a roar, and Castiel flung Dalila onto the sofa, where she bounced and landed face-first on the floor.

  The rage that consumed Isaiah was instinctive, primal, and the need to rip out his brother’s heart and feast on his blood was imminent. He wanted this fight to be skin-to-skin, blood and bone. He would make him pay.

  Castiel let out a beastly war cry and charged Isaiah, full speed. Isaiah grinned, welcoming the fight that would end with his brother flat on his ass or worse. The blow to his jaw came lightning-fast, and Isaiah felt the bones in his face jar. I am made of tougher shit than that. It would take a lot more than a mortal or immortal blow to produce glass.

  Isaiah answered with a fist of his own connecting to his brother’s throat. To a mortal, this would mean instant death. But to Castiel, it was just a stinging blow.

  Castiel staggered back from the punch, and Isaiah saw the blood that seeped from his mouth due to the deadening blow to his chest. He’d broken a rib and knew it now punctured a lung.

  Isaiah knew that he and his brother would dance this dance all night long if he allowed it to continue. He charged with all his force and anger. He was going to go for the crippling move.

  Sure on his feet, and true to his target, Isaiah reached out with his left hand while spinning his body to the right. Castiel anticipated the move and tried to block him, but it was too late. Isaiah delivered a wounding shot to his brother’s neck. He applied direct pressure, and Castiel immediately dropped to his knees, panting.

  Isaiah left his hand on the back of his brother’s neck, where he knew the pressure would cause immense pain and have Castiel laid out for most of the day tomorrow. There were only a few select places that could harm him or his brethren. The backs of their necks at their collars where the tips of their wings met their shoulder blades were the only vulnerable spots. Coming into direct contact with either and applying the right amount of pressure could incapacitate a Seraph in the most painful way.

  Isaiah leaned over his brother’s kneeling body and whispered the words he knew Castiel would obey. “Une et tovaya commandirre Une mund dhe do te ju duhet mue ne kete ceshtjel.” Simply put, he would end him under his command if he chose to go against him again in this situation.

  His brother would have killed anyone else who dared to whisper such words, but when Isaiah did, he bowed his head in supplication and then left while he was still able to walk.

  Isaiah strode toward a frightened Dalila, her face full of fear and worry. She cowered in the corner of the sofa as if the couch could swallow her and hide her from the situation at hand.

  Ω Ω Ω

  Isaiah walked toward her in slow motion, his massive body, which usually walked with a predatory gait, now calm. She could tell by the worry on his face that he thought she feared him. It wasn’t that she was scared, she was in shock. Okay, maybe a little bit scared, but more for the safety of his brother, Castiel.

  She’d seen the marks left on him, the blood seeping from his mouth, and the sickening cracks his flesh and cartilage made as they gave way to Isaiah’s punishing blows.

  Isaiah had whispered something in his ear that, even with all her history lessons and the ancient language classes Lyric insisted they take, she still couldn’t decipher. Whatever it was, it made all the difference in the outcome, which was sure to have been a thousand times worse if Isaiah hadn’t ended it when he did.

  Taking a deep breath, she uncurled her legs and allowed Isaiah to sit next to her on the couch.

  “Are you all right, Dalila?” Isaiah reached out and gently grabbed her chin so she was focused on him.

  “I’m fine. I was more worried about your brother. Why does he hate me so much? I’ve never done anything to warrant such behavior from him.” It wasn’t like she was overly rude. Yeah, she had an attitude, but who wouldn’t after finding out that Angels and Demons were real?

  Isaiah’s hand was warm. She could feel every single muscle in her body humming from the contact. Her skin tingled in places he hadn’t even ventured. It was a nice buzz that she never wanted to end, but the moment she realized that she was swooning, she moved her face so he could no longer touch her.

  “What the hell did you do that for? I was only trying to make you feel better, I know it’s been a long day for you, Dalila. You’ve been through a lot.”

  “Don’t you think I know t
hat? Stop babying me, I can take it. I’ve been doing a very good job of it so far, but I need you to stop touching me.” Dalila stood and walked toward the fireplace. She was sick and tired of him treating her as if she couldn’t possibly grasp what was going on. Sure, the veil of ignorance had been removed, but Dalila fully understood the severity of her current situation.

  He’d wanted to go back to the spot where he’d dropped in on her roof, she went. He wanted her to stay in the car, she stayed. Until she had no choice but to go check on him, and she had been right to leave the vehicle. He’d told her to follow his every instruction, and she was. There wasn’t too much more she could do without cutting out the part of her brain that made her who she was.

  “Why are you so angry, woman? I would never let any harm come to you. I continue to care for you because I said you would be safe. I intend to make sure it fucking happens,” Isaiah roared. He was suddenly on his feet, pacing the floor, hands fisted at his sides, his breathing harsh.

  Dalila watched from her place beside the hearth. What did he have to be angry about? She’d done nothing to him.

  “Why are you so pissed? You act like you’re the one who’s had the world suddenly become something you thought was completely impossible. You’re used to this kind of knowledge. I’m not. But you don’t see me wearing a hole in your floor.” Dalila threw her hands up in exasperation and placed her head on the mantle.

  There was a soft rush of air and then the hot fan of his breath on the back of her neck. She could feel his body heat as it encased her in warmth. The smell of spice and rain filled her nose, the scent comforting. Too comforting. It was a ruse. The things she wanted or hoped for were impossible. She was sinking into the sea that was Isaiah.

  “You can’t keep tormenting me this way, Isaiah. Just back off. I promise to be a good little mortal and stay out of your way. Once this whole mess is over, one of your brothers will wipe my memory regardless of what I want, and then all will go back to normal. You go back to dealing with what you’re used to dealing with, and I’ll go back to being a mortal. A nobody.” She sounded pathetic, even to her own ears, but it was the truth. It was her constant reminder, and not only did his brothers never let her forget, neither did he.