Everything was suddenly very clear. She’d kissed a psycho. And liked it.
Shit.
The screen lit up as the tanker exploded and the television screen went dead as the impact hit the bank. The thick windows shook and shards of glass sprayed the floor and the shock wave blew out the doors and knocked Maggie to the floor. Dazed, she pulled herself to her feet. The alarm was screaming and someone was yelling over it. Marjorie. It was Marjorie yelling. They had to lock up the money.
“Come one, Maggie. Don’t bother with counts. We’ll take care of those once the place is secure. Just get your cash drawer to the vault now. We need to lock up!”
Hands shaking, she followed her boss’s orders, thankful for them, relieved someone else was thinking for her, because her brain had stopped working the minute she’d realized Dominicus was involved with this horror in some way.
The vault door closed and she stared at it, wondering what she was going to do. Call the police? Right.
Officer, I woke up yesterday and a strange man was in my house. He made me coffee and kissed me. Today he showed up and told me to skip going to Starbucks. He’s got a weird-assed Latin name and I think he’s on a mission from God to kill coffee.
“Maggie?” A hand closed over her shoulder and she jumped. “Did you hear me?” Marjorie asked, her face lined with anxiety and concern. It occurred to Maggie that this was the most genuine expression she’d ever seen on her manager’s face.
“I’m sorry. I’m a little, um…” She looked around the bank helplessly. Customers and employees were milling, their shoes crunching the shards of glass from shattered windows. They all wore the same vacant expression, all looked shocked and disoriented.
“I understand. Go home. There’s not much we can do here today. Management is staying, and if you are needed we’ll call you. Plan on staying home tomorrow, but call sometime in the afternoon.”
“Right. I’ll head home.” Where the dangerous wacko with the gorgeous blue eyes who kisses like a wet dream can find me.
She moved on stiff legs to get her purse from the breakroom before she stepped through the now-empty frame of the door, glass crunching under the thin soles of her conservative pumps.
Sitting by her car was the puppy. The poor little thing had been out here when the blast hit. It trotted up to her, giving her a big doggie grin and a lick on the leg before bounding off, apparently uninjured. She wondered again if it was the same pup.
Down the street, the fire belched thick, black smoke into the air and fire crews scrambled to pour water on the flames. An ambulance roared past, away from the destroyed coffee shop, its siren joining the din of noise and chaos.
Life was so precious.
If the puppy showed up again, she could take care of it, help it find a home. She couldn’t help anyone else, but she’d make sure that little dog had a good life somewhere.
Her car was a mess. The windows were blown out of the doors but by some strange miracle the windshield and rear window were intact. She opened her car door and grabbed a thick fashion magazine from the passenger seat, her brain too jumbled to even think about the claim or deductible. Opening the magazine, she spread it over the driver’s seat, covering the shards of glass and slid in. She didn’t know how long she stared into space before her head dropped forward to hit the steering wheel and sobs racked her body.
What was she going to do? What was she supposed to do?
Chapter Five
“You fool! What were you thinking?” Renatus’s anger whipped a whirlwind of dust and debris over the balcony.
“I have to save her.”
Dominicus watched as Maggie parked her car and walked to her apartment, carrying a bag. Her steps were wobbly and her face too pale. He should be down there carrying her to her apartment, holding her and drying her tears. Even from this distance, her fear reached him, tore at him with more power than the other angel’s fury ever could.
After a traumatic morning, she was returning to an empty apartment. She had no one to soothe her, to hold her. No one to hold her as she cried. She was as alone as he.
“Why can’t you understand, Dom? She has to die.”
“Why?” Frustration bubbled through him and he spun to confront his only liaison with Heaven. “What makes this one soul so vitally important to Hell? Why is the Most High so willing for her to be lost for eternity? She’s done nothing to deserve this.” He moved in to stand toe-to-toe with Renatus, so close he could feel the Heavenly breath washing over his face, could see the seraph’s eyes dilate. “Why are you so anxious for her to be gone?”
The light angel’s gaze dropped and he turned away. Was that guilt?
“Please, Renatus, tell me you aren’t pushing this because you want her gone. What could you possibly have against her?” He’d just found her, a being who eased some of the cold knot of loneliness inside of him.
He couldn’t keep her. Maggie was a human, confined to this plane, her existence finite. But still, her soul called to him, her loneliness spoke to his. He couldn’t give her up. Not yet.
Ren turned away and braced his hands on the wooden railing. “She will lead you to Fall, Dom,” Ren whispered so low he almost missed it. “You are so close now.”
“Ah, Ren. I will not Fall.”
“You don’t see how close you are. I do. You’ve kissed her, a human, despite the Most High’s order. He forbade the mating of angel and human.”
“A kiss is not a mating. You think to correct me when your own daughter was nephil?” Renatus flinched, jerking as if struck, and guilt knifed through Dominicus. Why did he have to go for blood every time? Why must the anger take over and strike out at the only one he had left? “I did not mean…”
“You did mean it. You want my…my pain, and you have it. Yes, I fathered a child with a human. She was called an abomination, feared by humans and ridiculed by those of the realm. Do not forget what happened to my Michani when the Most High decreed the nephilim should not be. My daughter was no more than a child when she died and I have worn her blood on my soul for seven thousand years.”
Renatus stared into Maggie’s apartment, but Dominicus knew his thoughts were far away, with the golden half-angel who died too young.
“Ren,” he whispered and placed his hand on the other angel’s back. His eyes burned and his throat thickened painfully. Stepping in close, he brushed his lips over Renatus’s nape, wishing he could take back the hurt he’d caused. Ren shuddered and Dom dipped his head, pressing his forehead to Ren’s hard shoulder.
“I don’t want to hurt you. Never. But I can’t seem to stop.” Why did he keep lashing out?
Renatus twisted, cupping Dom’s head, holding him when he would have backed away. Pressing kisses against his temple, Renatus murmured, “I seem to do the same.”
Dom closed his eyes tight, savoring the rare bit of contact Ren gave him, letting it soothe his soul and comfort him. Heaven help him, it was so hard existing alone.
Taking Ren in his arms, Dom brushed his mouth over his. He tasted of tears, and guilt sliced through Dominicus again. He held back, mindful of the distance Renatus always kept between them, not wanting to damage their relationship any more. He couldn’t let himself chase Renatus away. Without his friend he was lost.
He gasped in surprise when Renatus reached up, fisting both hands in his hair and holding him. Tongues tangled as Renatus kissed him in a rough, frantic clashing of teeth and lips.
Dom jerked his head back, pulling free to stare into Ren’s eyes. He needed to know he wasn’t the only one who needed this, that this wasn’t out of pity or some misguided expression of forgiveness for his earlier stupidity. Ren froze, his guarded expression revealing nothing, but he couldn’t hide the flash of fire in his eyes.
Dominicus leaned forward, giving Ren time to pull away, to avoid him, but the other seraph held himself still, so rigid it felt as if he would shatter. Dom let his tongue glide over Ren’s full lower lip, taking a careful taste, the first one Ren had ev
er allowed. Dom could taste the emotions, Renatus’s fear and anxiety. Want and aversion mingled and he wondered if he could make the bitter flavor of distaste fade. He stepped in, letting his hips push forward. Their erections brushed, nestled together through their clothing.
Dominicus groaned. His hand wrapped around Ren’s hip, pulling him closer. Angling his hips, he pressed against Renatus. The friction sent a curl of desire through him. His shoulders tensed and he thrust again. Ren’s buttocks flexed under his fingers and Dominicus nearly sobbed in relief.
How he needed this, the tenderness, the love. He needed the acceptance of his only friend. His lips caressed Ren’s again in a tentative plea.
Ren choked and pulled back, his expression horrified. “No. No, this cannot happen.”
“Ren…”
“Do not say it. This cannot happen, not between two males. Not between seraphim.” Renatus shoved at Dominicus, pushing him away. Rejecting him.
“Please, Ren…”
It was too late, Renatus had disappeared, and once more Dominicus was left alone.
* * * * *
Maggie dropped the bag of dog food on the floor, reached into the cabinet and pulled out the yellow cup. She needed her coffee more than her next breath. God, everything was so fucked up. Thank God, the pot was still warm.
She dumped in a generous splash of hazelnut creamer, lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip. Her brow wrinkled as something pricked at her. Wasn’t this the cup she dropped yesterday when Dominicus snuck up on her? She could have sworn it was but apparently she was wrong.
“Are you all right?”
Maggie jumped and spun with a shriek. The cup dropped to the floor and shattered, splattering coffee everywhere. This was not her freaking day.
Oh God, the delectable psycho was back.
“How the fuck did you get in my apartment?”
“I just came in,” he said with a shrug.
Right, without knocking. No way did he just walk in the door, either. She’d double and triple checked those locks when she got home. She’d been too shaken not to.
She wasn’t shaken now. She was pissed. Two days ago her life had been normal. She went to work and came home. She partied with her friends some nights. Now she had puppies and explosions and a sexy crazy man. She was sick of it. Gorgeous or not, he needed to go away now.
“You can just go back out.” She pulled open a drawer and fumbled for a knife.
“Out?”
“Out!” Her fingers closed over a handle and she swung her arm out, pointing the weapon at him. “You know, out! Out of my apartment, out of my life. Out!”
“Is something wrong, Maggie?” His voice was cautious, as if he were finally getting a clue she wasn’t feeling all that friendly toward him.
“Something wrong? Like maybe my favorite coffee shop being blown to smithereens right after you told me not to go there? Like that kind of wrong?”
“This has upset you?”
“What was your first clue?” she snapped.
“You are attempting to attack me with a pizza cutter.”
Her anger deflated as quickly as it had appeared, leaving her drained. Exhaustion weighed her down. She tossed the cutter onto the countertop with a frustrated huff, feeling like an idiot. Again. “Just how did you know that was going to happen, Dominicus?” She scrubbed her face with one hand before reaching in the cabinet for another cup.
“I was granted knowledge of it. I wanted to keep you safe.”
“Granted knowledge by whom?” Nice to know he was low on the totem pole. Didn’t the low-end guys end up being suicide bombers? She supposed that meant he was going to end up playing Roman candle eventually. Good thing she hadn’t had a chance to get attached.
“By the Most High. Maggie, I don’t understand why you are this distressed.”
“The most high what? Is he some kind of ringleader, like the Grand Poobah or something? Is he in control of the terrorists?”
“Terrorists? Of course not. He is the Most High over the Heavens and the Earth, the ruler of all creation.”
She stopped, frozen for a moment. The what? “Wait, do you mean God?”
“Of course.”
She nodded dumbly. He actually looked confused as to why she didn’t understand him. He was batshit crazy. There was no other explanation.
“So God told you a tanker truck was going to plow into my favorite Starbucks.”
“No. I had no idea about the tanker truck.”
Well that was a relief.
“He told me you would die there this morning.”
Okay, not so much.
“I spent all day yesterday hoping you would come back, now I’m regretting that you did. You are insane.”
“I swear I speak the truth.”
She poured more coffee and took a gulp of the too-cool brew. Maybe he’d make sense when the caffeine kicked in. “You are gorgeous, can make me come with a kiss and you are completely fucked in the head.”
She was suffocating, choking to death on the knot of nerves lodged in her throat. She slammed her cup onto the countertop and picked her way through the broken shards to her bedroom to change clothes. Her work clothes, with the tight skirt and buttoned-up blouse felt too restrictive. Dammit, why did every guy she liked have to end up being some kind of weirdo?
She slammed the door behind her, locking it, and stripped out of the pencil skirt and blouse. Wearing only her panties and bra, she dug in a drawer for something comfortable to wear. Sweats would be good. The looser the better.
“Maggie, please listen to me.”
She gasped and spun around. How the hell did he get in? “Get out!” She rushed toward the bathroom, ready to slam the door in his face.
“You died, Maggie.”
His words stopped her. Her muscles seized and she stood, rooted to the spot. The memory of a nightmare she didn’t remember having washed over her.
She lay on the cold hard concrete outside of a club, blood pooling around her.
“You need help, Dominicus.” Hands shaking, she forced herself to move, to reach behind the door for the robe hanging on a hook there.
“I was supposed to take you to Hell but I couldn’t. You weren’t evil. I took one who was.”
A shadow like black smoke screaming as it ripped away from the body.
“Leave now. Before I call the police.” She shrugged into the heavy robe and tied the sash tight around her. The bulk of it shielded her, held her together when she was on the verge of shattering into a million little pieces, provided protection from the crazy man she’d hoped to lose her heart to. Tears pricked her eyes. Please, just go. Please leave before I lose it.
“I fixed you. I would never harm you. I took advantage of someone I love, stole his power so I could fix you.”
A hand pressed over the hole in her chest. Heat blazing through her, squeezing her heart and forcing it to pump, knitting the flesh and making it heal.
It couldn’t be real. Her hand slipped through the front of her robe to rub her chest, to soothe the ghost of remembered pain. Her fingers brushed irregular flesh and she paused, examining the edges of a small, puckered scar. A scar that hadn’t been there before this weekend.
“Please stop. Please.” Her knees gave way and she leaned against the wall, sliding down to sit on the cold bathroom floor.
“I brought you home, bathed the blood from you. When you were cold, I kept you warm with my own body. I want only to protect you, to keep you safe.”
Soft, downy wings enfolding her, blocking the chill and cradling her to his hard, aroused body.
“Wings.” She was shaking, her body breaking down in fear while a small corner of her mind watched. She could hear the threadiness of her voice, her harsh, shallow breaths, but she couldn’t seem to feel anything but a slow slide into panic. “You had wings. You had wings and you flew with me.”
“Yes.” The air behind him shimmered for a moment and wings as dark as night appeared. They lay against
his back in a graceful arc from his head to the floor, the feathers gleaming in the harsh vanity lights.
Oh shit. Maybe she was the one going crazy.
“I’m seeing things. I have a concussion, or someone put something in my coffee this morning, or…something.”
“No, you see what is really there.” He went down on one knee beside her and pulled her against him. She tried to scramble away, but he held her tight. He carried her to the bedroom and sat on the mattress, holding her, trying to soothe her.
“Oh, God. I don’t know what I’m supposed to think,” she sobbed.
“You don’t have to think, just believe.” He cradled her in his arms and his gentle lips pressed soft kisses over her cheeks.
Angel kisses.
A mirthless giggle escaped her at the thought. Gram had always called freckles angel kisses. When she was little, she believed it, believed she really was special, that angels existed and snuck into her room to kiss her goodnight.
Jesus, she was delirious.
Blazing heat, instant arousal, the sensuous slide of feathers over bare skin.
One had. An angel had come to her bed, kissed her, made her burn.
“You’re an angel.” She reached up to feel his wing, to slide her fingers over the warm, smooth feathers. They quivered at the light contact. Oh God, the wing was real, living flesh. He could feel her touching him.
“You kissed me that night, didn’t you?” The feathers under her fingertips trembled again, the movement so slight she barely felt it, yet it shook her to the core. Oh yes, he’d kissed her. He’d kissed her, and it was good.
“I had to. The man at the nightclub had put something in your drink. I had to pull the drugs from you.”
The biting taste of chemicals in her mouth, salty and bitter, the heat on her tongue, burning away.
“But you didn’t stop when they were gone, did you? You kept kissing me.” It was a hint of a memory, teasing her mind. A wave of want washed over her and her body melted, went liquid as it rippled through her. There was heat and need and his hard body against hers.
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