by V L Moon
Damian growled again. Khad laughed. Alexa didn't have to look to know a blush stained Shaver's lightly whiskered cheeks. Ignoring Damian's impatience, she straightened and licked her lips before strolling toward the club in a long hip-rolling gait. The males fell in behind her in a tight semi-circle. As they neared the door, several regular customers called out greetings. Alexa waved in acknowledgment, her smile gracing all assembled. Spotting them, the bouncer swung open the door.
“Evening, boss lady,” the bear shifter rumbled. Easily seven feet tall, Jacob towered over everyone, dwarfing them in height and mass. He’d been with the club for five years. His size provided a deterrent most were smart enough to recognize and avoid. Occasionally, a randy vampire or drunk wolf got brave and decided they were tough shits and could do as they pleased. Jacob quickly disabused them of the notion. He even gave Trenton pause. Not even the alpha was willing to piss off a full grown bear shifter. What they didn’t know…beneath the rough exterior and muscle lurked a keen business mind. Alexa celebrated the day he wandered into her club looking for a job.
“How’s things, Jake?” Alexa went up on tiptoe to kiss his bearded cheek.
“Top floor’s packed to the rafters. That’s why there’s a line. The Den is close to capacity. Moon’s almost at full so most of the wolves are out in the woods.” The last was said so low only her keen sense of hearing picked it up. She nodded once and patted his chest.
“Any problems?” She asked as he shook hands with her boys. He gave a negative shake, and she moved to step past him. Before she crossed into the small lobby, Jacob spoke again. “Delia’s here.” A predatory grin spread Alexa’s lush lips.
“Excellent.”
~*~*~*~
Chapter Ten
~*~*~*~
Rome, Italy
“Dr. DeRhys, what a surprise.”
Clariel stepped back and swung the door open wider. The young male’s welcoming smile twisted Bastian’s gut. His fingers tightened around the handle of his black medical bag. He forced a smile.
“Sorry, I probably should have called. I was in the area and thought I’d drop by and check on Celix.”
A lie. It slipped from his forked tongue as smoothly as honey. He wasn’t there for Celix. He wanted Arial. A glimpse of the male, news of him…anything. His thoughts had been consumed with the angel. Bastian closed his eyes and inhaled. Arial’s scent wafted out of the Nephilims’ suite. Memories battered their way to his conscious mind. He fought to keep them from overwhelming him. He’d skulked through the halls of the Vatican for days hoping for any hint of the celestial’s presence. He found himself disappointed. Until that moment.
Fingers closed around his wrist. Surprised, Bastian glanced down to see Clariel’s pale fingers against his darker skin. As before, the Nephilim displayed no qualms in touching him. Bastian lifted his eyes to study the male. No guile shadowed his eyes, no lust. Never in his long history had anyone touched him without wanting sex. Clariel seemed immune to his demon’s magnetism. The reality of it left Bastian speechless.
“He’s doing so much better, but do come in. I know he wants to thank you for all that you did for him. We both owe you so much. Have a seat, and I’ll get him for you.” Clariel’s invitation came with a gentle tug and another soft smile. Innocence invited the devil’s spawn into their home as if he were Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. Deep beneath skin and bone, Rhys stirred.
Terrified, Bastian jerked free of Clariel’s grip. Clariel might not have been susceptible to the demon’s draw, but the demon sensed the purity. Hunger and lust twisted an all too familiar tango in Bastian’s gut.
“Maybe, I should come back.” Panic chilled his blood. He’d seen Arial’s response to the two males. If he hurt them, he’d never stand a chance with Arial. The chasm between them would widen to insurmountable proportions. Like it isn’t already?
Bastian ignored his demon’s growl. He stepped back over the threshold into the hall. Clariel followed. Concern etched his beautiful face. Again, his fingers grasped Bastian’s arm. Rhys stretched and growled, sensing prey.
“You really shouldn’t touch me.”
The hand on his arm disappeared. Clariel ducked his head. A blush stained his cheeks. “I apologize. I didn’t realize my touch would offend? I’ll just…I’ll get Celix for you.”
“Clariel.”
“No, I understand. Gregori has been so nice; I forget that Nephilim are persona non grata for most people. I thought that since you were demon.” Clariel twisted his face away and shrugged.
“That’s the problem, kid. The demon likes you.” Clariel’s head jerked around. The young male stared up at him with wide eyes. “I am a danger to you because I like your touch. Far too much for your safety.” Bastian felt the fires of lust igniting beneath his skin. Wisps of smoke rose from his exposed flesh. His vision shifted and he knew his eyes had changed. Rhys looked out at the male.
“You won’t hurt me.”
“Brave words, but don’t kid yourself, Nephilim. Rhys spares no one.” Bitterness coated the words.
“I trust you.”
“Why?” Rhys’ deep gravel voice hissed.
“Because Arial trusts you.” Simple words, but they rocked Bastian to the core. Rhys growled.
“This was a bad idea.” Bastian tried to pull the demon away, but Clariel reached for him. Slender fingers slid up Bastian’s forearms. Clariel crowded in closer. His palms skated along Bastian’s arms to rest against his biceps. The Nephilim’s face tipped up exposing the smooth column of his throat. Bastian’s eyes locked on plump lips. Beauty and innocence, pure temptation to the demon. A growl rolled through the hallway. Bastian’s body hardened. Sweat beaded on his brow.
“You should trust yourself more.” Clariel’s warm breath brushed across his lips. Bastian stood frozen until the male stepped back out of his personal space.
“Come inside. Celix really would like to see you.” Another gentle pull accompanied the words.
“Are you always so fearless?” The choked words barely made it past Bastian’s lips. Fear of himself held him in a stranglehold, but Clariel was completely at ease. Bastian didn’t sense any alarm.
“When you’ve faced Malachi Denali in full battle rage, there is little that can instill terror. The vampire king’s reputation is well deserved.”
Surprisingly, Rhys retreated, a hulking spectator in Bastian’s mind. Bastian hesitated. If he went inside, there was a chance he could find out more about Arial’s location. But, there was a bigger possibility of Rhys defiling the naive male in front of him.
“Clariel?”
The male in front of him lit up. Love in its purest form glowed on Clariel’s face. “Celix. Look, we have a visitor.” Bastian allowed himself to be dragged into the room. His gaze roamed over the other Nephilim. Gray still tinged the bronze skin. His feathers appeared lackluster and drooped on the wings visible above his shoulders. The vampire blood had gone a long way to healing the male’s worst injuries, but he was still not at one hundred percent.
“Doctor.”
“Hello, Celix. I had a patient close by. I, ah, how are you feeling?”
“Better.” And, there was the reaction Bastian expected. Wariness and fear. The spicy scents tickled his nose. Another scent teased. The demon who had gone quiet, rustled and stirred. Bastian inhaled sharply.
Arial.
A growl vibrated out of his throat. Faster than Bastian expected, Celix crossed the room and shoved Clariel behind him. There was no need. The young Nephilim’s innocence could not compete with Bastian’s need for Arial.
“Stop it, Celix,” Clariel protested. “He’s not going to hurt anyone.”
“He’s a demon.” Celix spat the words into the space between them. Bastian well understood his aversion. He’d been the one to treat Celix after he’d been brutally abused by a multitude of Bastian’s demon brethren.
“I only came to check on you. If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll go.” Bastian inclined his head at th
e pair of them. He gave them his back and strode to the door. Behind him, he heard furious whispering as they argued. His fingers closed around the door knob.
“Don’t come back here looking for Arial. He doesn’t want to see you.”
Bastian tried; he really did, but the challenge ignited his demon’s ire. Time seemed to slow as Rhys burst through his thin veil of control. The room shrank around him. Celix’s throat barely filled the ring of his fisted fingers. A taloned thumb forced the Nephilim’s chin up. Flame kindled eyes bore into the male’s soul.
“Do not think to put yourself between me and Arial. The glimmer of humanity inside of me would never be enough to save you if you try to keep me from what is mine.” Rhys lifted the male closer until their noses were a hair’s width apart. “And, make no mistake, he is mine.”
“He’s too good for you. He deserves better.” Celix’s words cut deep. They were truth; yet, finding out Arial was alive after centuries of grieving for the male he thought dead, there was no way he could let him go, no matter what form he chose.
Rhys’ grip on the half-breed tightened. Celix’s face darkened to a ripe wine. “I am not the one who destroyed him.” But was that the truth? He knew deep in his soul that he was responsible for Arial’s plight. “But, I will avenge him.” Rhys tossed the male away from him. Celix landed hard on the highly polished floor and skidded backward. He hit the wall with a thud. Clariel was immediately at his side. Bastian shoved at the demon’s control.
“He needs more vampire blood. His feathers are still drooping.” The words were incongruous coming from a demon responsible for hundreds, if not thousands, of deaths. Rhys snarled detracting from the advice, gave a last disgusted sniff at the two Nephilim and slouched through the too small door.
“Rhys, haven’t I told you to behave yourself while in my home?”
Incredibly, Rhys cringed. Shoulders slumped, he turned to face the Sovereign Bishop of Rome. Pope Gregori‘s white zucchetto caught the light drawing Rhys’ gaze to him. The human man strolled closer and reached up, placing a hand against fiery red demon skin. A sense of peace skated through Rhys’ demon soul.
“I didn’t kill him.”
Gregori patted his arm. “Good for you. Now, can we have the good doctor back? I don’t think the bishops and cardinals are up for a demon visit.”
“They could practice their exorcism,” Rhys deadpanned, making Gregori laugh.
“I believe you are worth saving, Dr. DeRhys. I would not condemn you to Hell just yet.”
Bastian stumbled only slightly as he resumed human form. He coughed to clear the sulfur from his throat. “Do not delude yourself, your Grace. There is no redemption for me. I am the son of Lucifer himself, born in the deepest bowels of Hell. Your God would not waste a pinprick of his blood on me.” Bastian stopped and scrubbed a hand over his closely shorn hair.
“Your father once stood at the side of our Creator, Dr. DeRhys. He gave you the spark of humanity you cling to so valiantly. I believe John the Evangelist told us that if we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”
“He wasn’t talking about me.” Bastian attempted a smile. “But, I give you credit for trying. Thank you, your Grace.”
“Dr. DeRhys…Bastian, if I may, there are things that you nor Arial understand. I will continue to pray for you both.”
Bastian watched the leader of the Creator’s army on Earth walk away. The man had such faith in his God, unwavering faith in the peace and love offered by the Creator. Bastian wanted to believe. He longed to escape the lust driven rampages and the tendrils of evil that clawed at his soul. He worked tirelessly to aid the sick and heal the injured; yet, the few lives he saved would never surpass the multitude of victims left in Rhys’ wake.
~*~*~*~
Clariel hefted Celix to his feet. “Why must you taunt him? He is one of God’s children the same as you and I.”
“He is a demon; a demon who is trying to find Arial. He used us as an excuse.”
“They have a history together. You heard what he said that night. He loves Arial,” Clariel argued. “If you loved someone, would you not try anything to find them?”
Celix averted his face. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he ground his teeth together. “We aren’t talking about me. You’re defending a monster. By his very birth, he is tainted.” Celix’s gaze swung back to Clariel. Hatred burned in their depths. “Do you not remember what his brothers did to me? Do you think Arial deserves that?”
Celix sighed. “I’m sorry. Come and sit with me. We don’t need to argue about him. He doesn’t matter.”
“He does matter.” Clariel forced the words from a stricken throat. “He cannot help the circumstances of his birth. Haven’t you always told me that about my lack of wings?”
“Clarry, you’re different.”
“But, I’m not. I am the offspring of an illicit affair between an angel and a human. For their sins, I was deprived of wings.”
“Damn it, there are other Nephilim without wings. Clarry, you’re just being difficult. He’s a fucking demon. He doesn’t deserve your defense.”
Clariel shook his head. Tears burned his eyes. “For that reason alone, he deserves my defense. He should not go unloved and punished because of his birth. He is no less than you. Bastian DeRhys did not attack you. He aided you even when what he wanted most in the world was within his grasp. He could have left you there to die, but he didn’t.”
Clariel ducked his head. “I think I need to…I need some time alone.”
“Clarry, wait.” He heard Celix’s footsteps, but he didn’t stop. The bedroom door closed quietly behind him. For the first time ever, he locked it. Had Celix lied to him all of the years they’d been together? Did he believe Clariel was less than the other Nephilim because he’d been born without wings?
The old insecurities swarmed Clariel. Crossing to the small altar in the room, he slid down to his knees and crossed himself. Since coming to live in the Vatican, he’d gained confidence and set aside his doubts. He’d thought he and Celix were growing closer. Love for the other Nephilim threatened to choke him. Had his dreams been so naive?
~*~*~
Chapter Eleven
~*~*~
“Your presence here is greatly appreciated, but if you keep hovering outside that door, I might get the wrong idea and invite you in for some ass smacking fun. You know I have a penchant for angels,” Malachi growled. The humor belied the pain that tainted his words. With a roll of his eyes, Arial twisted the heavy, wrought iron handle and pushed his way inside the royal bedchamber.
“I see your sense of humor is as virile as ever. Good to have you back, but I’ll have to decline your offer to join in the fun. Don’t want you overdoing it and putting your back out,” Arial quipped. His eyes tracked the vampire king in the corner of the darkened room. He didn’t need light to see Malachi was well on his way to being fully healed.
“Come a little closer; I won’t bite. Much.” Malachi shifted on the bed to right himself against the mound of pillows at his back. A soft mewl followed. Arial shifted his gaze to the small bundle in Malachi’s lap. Destahny stirred as the vampire king picked her up and settled her weight against his chest. Mere seconds later, she drifted back into sleep.
“If you’re looking for Laz, he’s most likely flossing his teeth with his G-string or covering himself in something shiny. You know how he is.” Before the arrival of their daughter, Malachi’s comment would have been answered by a comeback befitting Laziel’s rapier wit. However, because of the circumstances leading up to Destahny’s birth, the usual camaraderie between the two had hit a small but significant hitch. Arial prayed they’d overcome it quickly.
There was too much happening in the paranormal realm for them to be at odds with each other. Despite the fact that fatherhood seemed to suit the vampire king, he, at the same time, seemed more deadly than ever. He’d been dangerous before, but with Laziel at his side,
there had been some hope of keeping him calm while addressing the day to day shit that went hand in hand with being the King. All of that changed after Destahny’s birth. Having a daughter and an heir to the throne to protect, Denali made dealing with the old version of himself seem like child’s play.
As if sensing Arial’s train of thought, Malachi‘s eyes darkened to the crimson glare born of his volatile nature. Instead of backing away like any sane person would, Arial obeyed the king’s order and stepped up to the side of the bed.
“Now that you’ve declared an heir, we’re going to have to pull some of our guards back from their posts in the enclaves. We’re facing dangerous times, my liege. The rise of the Nephilim was bad enough, but now, we have the added burden of the demon spawn to contend with, as well as Darklon and his merry band of misfits. We’re being attacked from all sides….” Arial’s words drifted to a close when warmth and light bathed the room.
“Your concern is duly noted, my friend. However, with Darklon’s attempts to decimate our enclaves, I refuse to see them weakened any further by taking away the warriors we have provided to them. It’s just a matter of time before they come for Destahny, I say…let them try if they wish to die,” Lachi growled as his eyes drifted around the room. The pained expression was brief; there one second, gone the next, but the impact it left behind made Arial’s chest ache.