“She has been put in the quarters across from yours. I assumed that was where you wished her to be.” Lana always got to the heart of things, no matter the issue.
“It does not matter where she sleeps as long as it is on my floor, you assume too much to know what it is I need,” Isaiah answered. She couldn’t read his mind or his feelings; she hadn’t been able to do so for a very long time. Isaiah knew that it was a result of all the time they had spent together. Pleasure Angels were to be traded out and used among his brethren, to give the illusion of variety. It was something he saw no use for, and since he was the captain of the guard, he saw no reason to switch out, unlike his fellow Seraphim. Grey never used a Pleasure Angel, and Castiel remained untouched. He detested the thought of anyone ever touching him. Raz was cut from a different cloth all together. He used them in vast numbers, as well as dallied with others. It was even reported he had been with many mortals. Isaiah counted himself lucky that he would never go through the burning, 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 in an eternal bond, which was meant to stand the test of time throughout all the ages. No matter where they were on Earth, or 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 status of Jabari, and there his woman would become a fierce warrior and 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 a nice desert sand, softer than any silkworm could spin. Aroma so dark and inviting 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 she 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 an Angel’s attire, but he wanted her dressed that way. He told himself it was to maintain a 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 still she hadn’t been able to contact Lyric. She needed to talk to her friend, before things really got out of hand. Lyric was the only one who understood her and the things that she dealt with. Dealing with Apophis had gotten to her. Her claws had literally reared their ugly heads. She prayed 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 happened, someone had been hurt.
Derek had almost lost his life and she’d only been sixteen then. He 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 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. 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 and tried to force himself on her. Dalila had fought him every step of the way, and when he’d cupped her sex, a power of rage overtook her so strong it had rattled her bones. She’d blacked out, but when she had awoken, Derek’s body lay almost lifeless beside her. His breathing shallow and his face clawed, she could see muscle and bone beneath 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 shadow of the trees and calmed her, promising 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 fled. Knowing that whatever had happened to Derek, she was glad it had not happened to her. She’d locked herself into 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 came inquiring about Derek’s injuries or questioned her. Surely, he had told them she was there with him as a witness. Then again, maybe he hadn’t, because he knew that she would tell them how he had tried to rape her.
When Dalila had showed up to 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’d quickly look away. His face looked almost healed, but not entirely; maybe she had imagined she saw the bone and muscle of his jaw, maybe she was so traumatized by the event that she imagined him almost dead. 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 Lyric would be sick with worry, and she needed to get to a phone and fast. The room was sparsely decorated, just enough for a person to be comfortable. There was no phone that she could see, and she knew there wouldn’t be one in the bathroom either. Just peachy. If anyone could get her out of this mess it would be Lyric. She trusted Lyric and no matter that these men were Seraphim, Lyric wouldn’t even balk at the idea, but relish it, laughing in their faces and pissing on their shoes.
Stepping toward the door, Dalila leaned her head close, listening for anyone that may pass or 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 this house. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she noticed a warm glow of light 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 a huge fireplace that was the focal point of the room. Chairs and couches were placed strategically, making the hearth the center. Next to one of the chairs on a table was 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, standing in the darkened corner of the room. He blended in 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, aiming 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 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 up 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 against 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 laugh that froze the blood in Dalila’s bones. “You, who was made from dust and clay, given freedom to do what you will, when you all could have had it so easy? 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. 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 alone. How could such a beautiful creature harbor such hate toward her? She’d never done anything wrong 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.
Ω Ω Ω
“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 his dick wasn’t 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. Standing her ground, 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 a mental push to Castiel.
“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 hate for humans and all things mortal. Isaiah knew his reason, even sympathized with him. But in this, he would fight him. Isaiah took a step forward and Dalila had sense in mind to move back away from the two. Castiel stayed 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 head 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, to her. Can you even imagine what will become of the 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 show of anger, then with a motion he lifted Dalila off her feet and held her suspended above ground. “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 needed 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, gasped in horror. There was a small rumbling that 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 instinctual, 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 was puncturing a lung.
Isaiah knew he and his brother would dance the dance all night long, if he allowed it to continue. He charged with all his force and all his 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, and Isaiah delivered a wounding shot to his brother’s neck. He applied direct pressure and Castiel immediately dropped to his knees, panting. Isaiah stayed 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 the neck where the tips of their wings met their shoulder blades and at their collars were the only vulnerable spots. Coming into direct contact with either, and applying the right amount of pressure, would incapacitate 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 instead he bowed his head in supplication and then he 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 sofa could swallow her and hide her from the situation at hand.
Ω Ω Ω
Isaiah walked toward her in slow surrender, and his massive body, which usually walked with a predatory gait, was now calm. She could tell by the worry on his face that he thought she feared him. It wasn’t that she was scared, but in complete shock. Okay, maybe a bit scared, but more for the safety of his brother, Castiel. She’d seen the marks left on him. The blood seeped from his mouth, and she’d heard the sickening cracks and the sounds his flesh and cartilage made as it gave way to Isaiah’s punishing blows. Isaiah had whispered something in his ear that, even with all her history classes and the ancient languages that Lyric insisted on them taking, 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 that she was focused on him.
“I’m fine, I was actually more worried about your brother. Why does he hate me? 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 to the touch. 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 come down from, but the moment she realized she was swooning, she moved her face so that he was no longer touching 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 that? 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 tr
eating her as if she couldn’t possibly grasp what was going on in. Sure, the veil of ignorance had been removed, but Dalila fully understood the severity of her current situation. He wanted to go back to the spot he dropped in on her roof at, she went. He wanted her to stay in the car, she stayed. Until she had no choice but to go see about him and she had been right to leave the car. He told her to follow his every instruction, 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 and still function.
“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 on his feet, pacing the floor, hands gripped at his sides and his breathing was 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 the hot fan of his breath on the back of her neck. She could feel his body heat as it encased her in his warmth. The smell of spice and rain filled her nose, comforting. Too comforting. It was a ruse. The things she wanted or hoped for were impossible. She was sinking in the sea that was Isaiah.
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