by Danae Ayusso
Slowly Angelus shook his head. Never again will I be so…it does not matter. In a city of millions, the odds of seeing her again are astronomical. I do not have to worry about our paths crossing again.
So wrapped up in his contemplation, Angelus neglected to notice that the booth had dinged, notifying him that the process was complete, and that the door had opened behind him. When he did, he shook his head, trying to clear the ridiculous fantasies from his mind and quickly exited the booth, smashing into someone in the hallway.
“Sorry,” the woman mumbled under her breath as she rubbed her eyes.
Instantly Angelus started to panic, his breathing stopped and, unable to stop himself, his hand wrapped around her wrist in a feeble attempt at keeping her body away from his, but he couldn’t help but steady her until she got her bearings.
Not sure what to do, he said the first thing that popped into his head. “No you are not.”
Why did I just say that? Fuck! he berated himself. Never did he want to hear her apologize to him for anything. It was he that should be apologizing to her for everything, even the stuff that wasn’t his fault.
Not wanting to make the situation worse, he unfolded his wings and wrapped himself in them, cowering against the wall in a feathery cocoon of invisibility.
“What in the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Zion demanded, blinking rapidly and looked up and down the hall, but she appeared to be alone.
Angelus’ hand clenched into a fist multiple times, struggling to keep his hand from reaching out and caressing her soft cheek, but the slight flushing of red along her high cheekbones from her momentary frustration at the angel that seemingly vanished made it a near impossible task.
“Huh,” she huffed in frustration, her eyes snapping to the spot against the wall where Angelus was hiding.
Does she see my soul as I see hers?
Zion sighed and shook her head, the unmistakable look of disappointment washing across her face and it felt as if his heart was breaking in his chest. When she pushed her hand through her hair, pushing the long, golden locks out of her face, Angelus struggled to contain the whimper building in his chest. “Hello?” she called out, looking up and down the hall then bit her bottom lip, moistening it in the process.
To taste those lips, her mouth, to feel her tongue wrapping around mine, that would make it all worth it, he thought.
“Hello?” Zion called out again, her attention returning to the spot on the wall where he was cowering.
Again, the look of disappointment was clearly visible on her face before she turned from him and slowly walked down the hall towards the demonic side. “Perhaps I need more than just pie because I think I am losing my mind,” she complained under her breath as she went. When she reached the door leading to the demonic side she stopped and looked over her shoulder more than once, her eyes lingering on the section of wall that Angelus was hiding against. When she sighed again, and the corners of her beautiful mouth turned down before she stepped through the doorway and the door slip shut behind her, a tear rolled down Angelus’ cheek.
His wings pulled away from him, before folding away behind him and hastily wiped the tear away. “Only hate,” he whispered and another tear rolled down his cheek. “Only hate.”
My eyes shot open and I sat up, gasping for air.
“Zee, are you okay?” Loke asked.
“That sonuvabitch,” I choked.
Why didn’t he? Oh god.
I shook my head, trying to get the images from my mind, but even after the dossier had run its course, it continued to torment me; I was being haunted by each image that replayed and each word that echoed in my mind. The worst of them was the image of Angelus pushing against that immoveable piece of earth. How many centuries had he pushed against it? How many lifetimes did he suffer in silence while I lived my life in luxury?
“Why, what…” Loke stammered. “What in the hell just happened?”
“I… I’ve… I’ve got to go,” I said as I struggled to articulate myself then, without warning, dropped from the sub-spectrum of the Gods and pushed through the doors of Tricky Dicks and ran as fast as I could back to twenty-one.
Why didn’t he tell me? I mean…he could have told me! Is his fear so fucking severe that he couldn’t tell me that he has been in love with me for centuries and was the one that pulled me from hell?! And, oh I don’t know, that Adramelech is my father and not a demon, or is a demon or angel or…I don’t know. I’m totally kicking Daddy’s ass for that when I’m done with my damn angel.
Ugh! I hate men.
I summoned yet another gift from daddy dearest, a blade: the Misericorde of Garadiel. The irony amused me on a sick level, not so much at that exact moment, but overall because there was no mercy in that disgusting beast Garadiel, his this stiletto had spilled more than its fair share of innocent blood. Thousands years ago, Adramelech won it from the Wandering Duke of the Air in a card game. Garadiel wanted me, but that wasn’t going to happen, for obvious reasons, so Adramelech cheated and won the stiletto then, as a blatant show of disrespect, handed it over to me, his concubine, in front of the Duke.
Now so much was making sense, and it was more than obvious that I was Daddy’s Little Girl and favorite.
The blade was very powerful and could kill demons and angels alike, as well as the arches for each, and Elementals, which were hard as hell to kill: four, tapered black blades in a diamond-cross section, forming an X at the hilt; silver and gold angelic script was carved into one side of each of the four blades, and demonic script in red and black was carved into the opposite side, and delicate glowing blue elemental runes were forged into the channels were each blade met.
Since I didn’t know what would be coming after us next, and I was the only creature that had permission to kill my angel, it only made sense to cover my basis and use a weapon that could kill anything.
I took the stairs two at a time then skidded to a stop when I hit the hallway: the door was open. Angelus never left his door open, never. Something was wrong.
Oh God. Please let him be all right. I’m the only one that gets to kill him. He’s in my batch!
I slipped out of my shoes so not to make a sound then crept along the wall, straining to hear. There were voices coming from the loft, but they were muffled, as if they were trying to be quiet. As I got closer, my heart sank when I saw the top of a shaved head with a slight sprouting of dark hair partially stuck out into the hallway.
Please God, I’m not a follower or anything, but you saved me before through your son, so let me save him now.
I slid down the wall, and with a shaking hand, caressed my fingers against the top of the head. The hair was stiff and prickly, not the feathery soft locks that were fighting against Angelus’ stubborn ass…why he felt the need to look like a Neo-Nazi angel was beyond me. The skin temperature was off as well; it was way too cold for being dead only minutes, maybe an hour at most: strigoi.
It was a relief, a short term relief, but a relief nonetheless.
Silently I crept into the room, my feet never touching the ground—Angelus must have been rubbing off on me—and came up behind the hulking—what the fuck is that, a giant—man that was pointing a gun at the wall. It was safe to assume he was pointing his gun at Angelus since I couldn’t see around Frosty the Giant.
“When I am done with you,” the giant whispered his voice deep and fully saturated with ill-concealed confidence and condescension, “I will fuck that little whore on your ashes before I rip her beating heart from her chest.”
Whoa, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
“You will not touch her,” Angelus informed him in that level tone of his that made me tingle in all the right places even though he constantly left me hanging with each word…. Damn it, Zion, focus!
“Oh I will, and then some,” the giant started to promise, but his words were cut off in a gurgle of blood as my stiletto broke through the front of his throat.
Slowly he turned his
head as he dropped to his knees, the skin around his eyes illuminated from the inside out, glowing orange and blinding white, clearly showing all of the veins and the blood pumping under his nearly transparent epidermis.
“If anyone is going to kill him,” I snarled, “it’s me.”
I ripped the stiletto free and Frosty slumped over to the floor, his eyes wide open, the charred black sockets that once housed his eyes had wisps of smoke rising from them.
I glared at the angel in front of me. I wanted to yell at him for lying to me, for keeping so many damn secrets, for allowing a goddamn Frost Giant and strigoi to get the slip on him, but the words weren’t there. Blood covered half of Angelus’ chest from the claw marks across his shoulders, his lips were tinted red from one too many hits to the mouth, and his eyes swam with moisture. But to my surprise, he was glaring at me.
What’s wrong with this irritating angel now?
My eyes moved over him, checking the sullen angel for any type of serious damage, and when the delicate tattooing on his chest started to glow bright white, burning away the blood in the process, I groaned. When the light extinguished, it left delicate black tattooing behind and my heart sank: Zion.
“Get away from me,” he snarled as his body violently convulsed and he fell against the wall. “Get away!” he yelled.
As I stepped over the dead Frost Giant, I dismissed my stiletto; I knew exactly what my angel’s problem was. I didn’t need to see what Angelus was downloading in my dossier to know what he saw: brutal rapes, beatings, torture, disemboweling, drowning, hangings, a couple of poisonings….the list was really long and that was just the stuff that I had apparently come to terms with. If what I saw in his dossier affected me as badly as it had, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was going to do to him, especially since he loved me.
Angelus loves me?! I still can’t believe it!
It wasn’t every day that a girl heard that a really hot angel, one that had sacrificed everything, and I mean everything, for them was in love with them and his biggest fear was your…
Oh shit.
“Get up, you sniveling little bitch,” I snarled.
Angelus continued to shake and convulse on the floor with his arms wrapped over his head.
“I said, get up!” I yelled then kicked him in the stomach as hard as I could.
His body pulled up off of the floor from the blow before slumping back to the floor.
“Get up!” I yelled.
He choked and gasped, struggling to catch his breath.
I grabbed Angelus by the neck and jerked him to his feet then slammed him against the wall. “Man the fuck up, you whiney, little pathetic piece of shit,” I snarled in his face; this was going to suck. “No woman could love a bitch angel like you. That’s why your daddy left you, abandoned you in the deepest pits of Hell all alone, and that’s why he didn’t answer your prayers, incessant whining and groveling. You’re nothing more than a low level demon with white wings,” I hissed as my lips brushed against his with each word that left them.
Forgive me.
Angelus’ eyes snapped open and they burned into mine; solid gold that visible waves of heat emanated from. Unfortunately, he made no attempt at stopping me.
Damn it.
My angel put a whole new meaning to the word stubborn.
My fingers wrapped around the demonic blade that appeared in my hand and I pressed it against his throat. His head tilted upward as the blade bit into his flesh causing a ribbon of blood to blemish his tan skin.
You can do this, Zee. Just suck it up and kick his ass so you can finally mount him and ride your cynical angel off into the sunset.
“In what delusional world do you live,” I venomously said, “that you would actually think that I could love a whiney little bitch like you? You aren’t man enough for a demon like me.” I pressed the blade against his throat even harder, but the stubborn angel merely cleaned his jaw and glared at me. “Karael was right, you are nothing but a weak bitch that wasn’t good enough to clean the toilets in Hell, let alone be daddy’s little poster boy.”
Angelus continued to glare at me, but his resolve wasn’t wavering.
Stubborn angel. Ugh! Remind me why I love you again.
There’s only one thing that will set him off, I know it, but I had hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Hopefully he’ll refrain from killing me...that would suck.
I licked my lips then smirked. “I bet your daddy sucks cocks in Hell for lunch money,” I taunted.
And that did it.
Faster than I ever thought possible, he spun us around and was slamming me against the wall. Angelus twisted my wrist, pulling the blade away from his throat before his forehead slammed into my face. Tears blurred my vision and blood exploded from my nose. He pulled me away from the wall by the throat before he slammed me into it again.
“Do not ever talk about my father,” he snarled and pressed his thumb into my larynx, effectively cutting off my air supply.
‘Go fuck yourself and your daddy, too,’ I mouthed and smirked with blood stained teeth.
He pulled me away from the wall then slammed me into it again and pieces of brick broke away from behind me.
Ow.
“Say it again,” he taunted, removing his thumb so I could breathe. “Say it!” he yelled.
“Which part?” I choked then slammed my fist into the side of his head. “That you’re a punk ass bitch?” I punched him again. “That you’re a whiny, stupid, little bastard? That you wouldn’t know what to do with that sizeable cock between your legs even if your daddy was there offering you guidance? That your daddy doesn’t love you...no, that he never loved you? That you’re a disgusting winged pig that belongs in Hell with the others that your precious daddy has turned his back on,” I snarled, punching him with each heart wrenching insult.
Damn it! You can’t be this fucking stubborn and dense!
“You are nothing but a whore,” he snarled.
“Yes, I am,” I hissed in agreement and kneed him in the balls—that’s a sin and a half—then slammed my knee into his face when he doubled over. “A whore that never asked for you to take her from Hell,” I informed him. “I was enjoying what they were doing to me!” I fought back the bile that was quickly rising in my throat as the lies left my lips. “I never asked for you to interfere in my life, or take me from my home. I wish you were dead,” I snarled and punched him in the side of the head when he started to get up, dropping him back to the floor. “They should have left you in shackles. Centuries of punishment wasn’t nearly long enough for what you did to me, the pain you put me through,” I venomously hissed.
Angelus pulled himself up to his knees. “I hate you,” he snarled.
It’s about goddamn time!
“What was that?” I taunted. “I didn’t hear you, could you speak up?”
“I fucking hate you!” he yelled.
“It’s about damn time,” I huffed then threw myself at him, tackling the confused angel to the floor then smashed my mouth into his.
I kissed him as passionately as possible, and being the stubborn, gigantic pain in the ass that he was, Angelus tried to push me away. I slapped at his hands, eventually catching both and pinned his wrists above his head. My tongue caressed over his bloodied lips more than once, and I moaned as the taste of his essence flooded my senses. Softly I kissed and nibbled down his neck, and his eyes fluttered and he groaned.
“Delicious,” I whispered before pulling my tongue up the length of his neck then shivered.
“What are you doing?” Angelus demanded in quiet possibly the most half-assed attempt at making a stand in the history of the world.
“It doesn’t matter,” I murmured behind his ear before sucking his earlobe between my teeth and teasingly bit.
His fingers clawed at my hands restraining him. “It matters to me,” he argued.
Stubborn angel! I honestly should expect nothing less from him, and I wouldn’t love him any other way, but it
was still annoyingly inconvenient to have him ask stupid questions while I was trying to seduce him.
I let go of his wrists, caressed my fingertips down over each plane of his face, and admired the faint bruising that was rapidly healing.
“Your biggest fear,” I whispered then caressed my lips against his, taking a moment to trace their contours with the tip of my tongue. I moaned as his essence coated my tongue and made my head swim in a thick fog of euphoric disconnect.
“Yes,” he whispered and cupped my face, pulling me away from him so he could look at me.
Ugh, maybe I don’t like the stubborn aspect of this angel after all.
“Your biggest fear is giving love,” I started, “and it not being reciprocated, thus losing it forever.”
Angelus looked away from me and lowered his hands.
“Do you hate me?” I asked, pulling my fingers along the ridge of his jaw.
He opened his mouth, but it promptly closed and his eyes snapped to mine.
“Exactly,” I said then smirked. “You gave me your hatred for me, thus you can never have it again,” I informed him. “The opposite of hate is love, and you can't survive without both of those emotions, Angelus, but you can live with only one. Now that you can never hate me again, you will always be able to love, whether it is me you love or someone else, and regardless of me reciprocating the sentiment or not, which I do.”
“Why?” he asked, confusion washing across his expression.
Of course I ignored him, I was extremely good at doing that already, and I wasn’t saying what he already knew and wouldn’t tell me himself.
“Forever and ever and ever and ever,” I teasingly sang between kissed as my mouth moved down the center of his chest and I started unfastening his belt.