by Sarah Gilman
The murder scene disappeared behind them, and they climbed one last rise to a small, natural clearing—most of the trees forced back by the granite ledge and crisscrossing springs.
“Here we are. There, look.” The gap in the forest framed a view of the colony and the lake below them, and of the sky, where an archangel surfed the vast stretch of blue. “It’s Raphael.”
“How can you tell?”
“They have different flying styles.”
“I’ve never noticed that.”
“It’s subtle. He favors the wing that was broken.”
“I thought it was perfectly healed,” she said, concern in her voice.
“I don’t know if something like that can ever be perfectly healed, mentally if not physically.”
She leaned against him and they watched in silence for a few minutes. “I like watching them fly, even though it makes me a little jealous. Can you imagine it?”
“No, I can’t, but I’m not sure the ability to fly would be worth the consequences.”
“The poachers?” She shook her head. “Horrible, but worth it. Definitely. When I watch them long enough, I can almost feel the force of it on my body. Even though it’s my imagination, it’s exhilarating.”
“Freedom, in any form, is exhilarating.”
Lexine turned away from the gliding archangel and faced him. “True. So you do know what it’s like to fly. You and Raphael both have been airborne since you escaped Thornton.”
“I suppose…”
She laughed. “Yeah, I didn’t figure you for the poetic type.” She walked past him, toward the shelter he’d built for himself at the edge of the clearing.
His home, as Lexine had pointed out. Why hadn’t he thought of it that way?
“You did this without tools or equipment?”
“At first I spent most of my time exploring the land around the colony. When I noticed something that would fit, I brought it back. It wasn’t as much work as it appears.” He’d stacked large rocks to waist-height in the middle of a hemlock grove, connecting four of the old trees that formed a nearly perfect square. To make an A-shaped roof, he’d tied branches together with the sturdy grape vines that grew on the trees near the river, topping it off with hemlock and pine foliage. By winter, he’d added deer skins, tanned with demon fire, to make the shelter water and windproof. “I just needed a place to sleep and wait out storms.”
“May I?” She lifted a hand to the deer-skin door.
“Sure.”
She vanished inside, and he followed her. He’d padded the ground first with pine needles, then with skins: deer near the door, rabbit and fox where he slept.
“Well, I guess I know what you ate.”
“I’ll be happy never to eat wild game again in my life.” Hunting and catching animals had been easy, none of the creatures able to outmaneuver a demon. He considered the food chain perfectly natural, but he’d have gladly traded a few salads to break fewer necks.
She sat on his bed and studied the stone portion of the wall he’d carefully constructed to form a shelf. He’d whittled bowls, forks, and spoons from pine. “You did make yourself at home.”
“During the cold snap that refused to give up, the archangels spent more time inside. Made me crazy, so I had to keep busy.”
“You really worried about them.”
“I, well…” He ground his teeth and sat on the bed next to her. “I had no reason to worry, but I couldn’t stop making it my business. I had to be here, just in case.”
“It’s in your blood.”
“I don’t believe in that kind of thing.”
“Silly.” She pressed her palm to the center of her chest. “Being a Guardian takes a certain kind of heart. Whether you think of yours as entirely your own or as something your father passed on to you, you have it.”
“I make my own decisions.”
“But you can’t change who you are on that level.”
He nodded, conceding, but he half wanted to push the subject to see the flare of pink in her cheeks and the way her chin stuck out ever so slightly when she argued a point.
Her attention shifted back to the shelf where there was also a pen he’d had on him when he’d fled Thornton’s farmhouse and a stack of birch bark he’d cut into squares.
“What are these?” She reached a hand toward the birch.
“I, uh, wanted to write down my thoughts. I’ve never had enough privacy before.”
“Oh.” She withdrew her hand.
“You can read them if you want.”
“That defeats the purpose of privacy.”
“Perhaps, but you came here, despite having to walk near the place where your brother died, to see this side of me. I wrote down things I’ll never say out loud, so if you want to know my thoughts, this is your chance.”
Instead of picking up his makeshift journal, she leaned over and kissed him.
Unable to help himself, he lifted a hand to her nape to discourage her from ending the kiss and pulling away. Her sugary venom coated his tongue, the heat of her a pleasure itself. Nerves as distant as his toes came alive with the need for more of her touch. He indulged, wrapping his other arm around her lower back and pulling her closer. Not that she needed the encouragement. She ran her hands over his head and across his shoulders. Her fingers tickled down his sides to his waist, a gesture he mimicked, drawing a whimper from her throat.
As she reached under his shirt and caressed his skin, he clamped his hands over her wrists and broke the kiss.
“What’s wrong?” A blush rose to her cheeks.
Oh, how he loathed to admit the reason for his hesitation. “I want more.”
“So do I.”
“But…”
“But?”
He searched for words. Came up dry.
“If you’re worried about your scars—”
“I’m not.” He removed the leather straps holding his knives to his torso, gripped the bottom of his shirt, and pulled the black material over his head.
“Fair is fair.” She lifted her own shirt over her head.
A dark red bra enclosed the swells of her breasts.
“You’re staring,” she said, a smile in her voice, and leaned forward. “Feel free to take it off.”
He ran his hands over the silky material, her body heat soaking into his skin. “Show me how.”
Her eyes widened ever so slightly. “You’ve never…?”
“No,” he said, his mouth dry.
To his surprise, her smile widened. “Good.”
“Not the reaction I expected.”
“I admit, I wondered, considering your life up to this point.” She reached behind her back and the bra loosened. Leaving the garment in place, she lifted a hand and cupped his neck. “Better to have a clean slate than one with more bad memories.”
“Do you have some bad memories, Lex?”
Her smile faded. “Yes.”
Eyes closed, he turned his face toward her hand and kissed her palm. “How am I doing so far?”
“Nothing like the others.”
“I’ll take that as a good thing.”
“Most definitely.”
Easing the silk straps off her shoulders, he pulled the bra free of her body. He paused, bent, and smothered her breasts with kisses. She dug her fingers into her hair.
He scraped her skin with his fangs, remembering the liquid heat of her venom when she bit him at the motel. If biting wasn’t a part of demon sex play, he’d be surprised. The only thing that had ever brought him half as much bliss was her mouth on his.
She stiffened. “Jett.”
He removed his face and hands from her body. Had he screwed up that quickly? No, he doubted that. What, then? Did she harbor some pain from her past experiences? “I love touching you.”
“There’s something I may need to tell you. I’m not sure if you know.”
“I’m listening.” He pressed his lips to her throat.
“No, you’re not.”
“Sure I am.” He nibbled.
Her words came out breathless and he held her tighter in satisfaction. She said, “In Dearly, I bit you during my nightmare.”
“Yes. I was just thinking about that.”
“Love biting is common, and isn’t supposed to hurt when done right—”
“Excellent.” He brushed his lips along the length of her throat to her shoulder.
“You can’t bite me.”
He met her gaze. “Why not?”
“Mutual biting is how the permanent mating bond is formed between demons. It’s a chemical and psychic reaction caused by the mixing of venom and blood.”
“What?”
“My bite by itself did nothing.” She took his hand and ran her fingers over the spot she’d bitten. “And I can bite you again. Most courting couples engage in one-sided bite play. Just don’t return the favor unless you want to be stuck with me.”
“Lexine.” He grasped the back of her neck and pulled her to him. “Message received—don’t worry. But I could never be stuck with you. I can only dream of being so fortunate.”
He kissed her, easing her onto her back. Of course, if he did bite her, that would take care of her poacher prophecy once and for all, saving her from that fate and selfishly claiming her from all others in one quick bite. Would she hate him if he dropped his mouth to her shoulder that very moment and…?
“I bet I know what you’re thinking,” she murmured.
“Oh?”
“Don’t, Jett. You’ve only just started your training, and—”
“That’s not for you to worry about.”
“It would be if I was your mate, and besides, I don’t want a pity mating because of a dream, especially from you.”
“Pity? No. Don’t think for a moment I’m here, at all, out of pity.”
“What, then? Lust?”
He grinned. “Only partly.”
“And the other part?”
“Maybe I’m simply an arrogant oaf who thinks he deserves the chance to treat you better than the so-called males you’ve been with before, even though I don’t know how to take off a bra.”
She pushed him over onto his back and trailed kisses down his chest and stomach. Her thighs pressed against the weapons around his waist and he removed the guns, leaving only the twin blades he never wanted out of arm’s reach.
He kissed and touched every part of her, taking his time as she explored him in return, but he left her jeans in place, the restraint making his hands shake. This moment, by itself, was too much, too warm, too perfect, to rush past.
However, the sun eventually sunk lower behind the mountain, demanding his attention. He groaned.
“Hmm?”
“We should head back. I don’t want to say good night to you in a rush when Lark shows up.”
She lifted her head from his shoulder. “When will I see you again?”
“I’m not certain.”
The acceptance on her face went straight to his chest. “Lex, I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be. I’ll be waiting. Tell Lark he better not make me wait too long, or I’ll have to hurt him.”
“I bet you would.” He took her mouth in a long, deep kiss. When would he see her again? It would probably be weeks. Would she really wait for him?
He had no choice but to wait and find out.
Chapter Fourteen
Jett rolled to avoid Lark’s blade, grasped a low pine limb, and swung himself into the tree. He expected Lark to follow, but the Guardian took off running in the other direction through the dark forest.
“What the hell?” Jett leaped to the ground and gave chase. He caught up with the other demon after a hundred feet and shoved him against an oak. “You’re dead. What kind of a move was that?”
“A poacher’s move. What human will fight you in a tree?” Lark shoved Jett’s hands away. “Some humans will be dumb enough to fight you, thinking they have a shot in hell of winning. They do, if there are enough of them. But their goal is to get by you. If I’d been a poacher, you would’ve just given me a shot at the archangels, and look how far I got.”
Damn it.
“Your role is defensive. You’re a shield, an impenetrable wall. You do not let them get by you. Period.”
“I get it.”
Lark nodded, tossed his blade in the air, and caught it, as he often did in thought. “We’ll drill hand to hand again tomorrow night.” He checked the time on his cell. “I’m going back to patrol now, and you’re coming with me.”
They made their way through the woods. When they neared the archangel house, Lark let out a series of shrill whistles. Devin jumped down from a tree, nodded, and left.
“I don’t understand why Devin isn’t the family’s second dedicated Guardian,” Jett said.
“As Ginger’s adoptive father, Devin is in a difficult, unprecedented position.” Lark led them toward a towering oak tree behind the house. “He’s capable and he’s trusted. Unofficially, he guards the family with as much care as I do. He’s an extra set of eyes and ears, greatly adding to the family’s security. But, realistically, he needs to be kept out of harm’s way. He’s supposed to stay inside with the rest of them in an emergency.”
“Not to be cold, but he isn’t an archangel. We protect them because the species has been nearly wiped out, yes?”
“Yes, but Devin’s death would cause them—particularly Ginger—grief. Unacceptable.”
“Our job is to keep them safe,” Jett said.
“It’s more than that.”
“They’d also grieve for you.”
“True enough.” Lark paused at the base of the tree, his hand on the thick bark. “For decades after I became Raphael’s Guardian, I keep my distance for that reason. I rarely spoke to him. I didn’t want to be anything more to him than a bodyguard. But Raphael doesn’t trust easily. He needed to know me to trust me, and the unease I caused him was intolerable.”
Jett scoffed. “At least I’m not alone in being too damned sentimental. I never expected it from you.”
Lark frowned and stared at the sky. “Have you asked yourself why you came here? Why you couldn’t just leave Raphael in our hands and go on about your business? Why you’re ‘too damned sentimental’?”
“Every fucking day.”
Lark got out his cell and asked Devin to come back. After hanging up, he said, “To explain properly, I need to take you to meet someone. It’s not what I had planned for tonight, but it’s as good a time as any.”
Post-midnight darkness enriched the forest as they traversed the main path. Lark took them all the way into the center of the colony and knocked on the door of one of the residence buildings.
As they waited, Jett stared over his shoulder, every muscle in his body tense. Dozens of demons congregated outside the buildings, the red demon-fire lanterns giving the scene a festive appearance. One group of demons clustered around a food-covered table. Another group played a rough version of football. In front of the residence buildings, some demons gardened, some stood around and chatted, and some tended to repairs on a roof. More gathered farther down the path at the market.
“I don’t belong here.” The words slipped before Jett could stop them.
Lark had lifted his hand to knock again, but paused. “Beg pardon?”
Shaking his head, Jett swept his hand out to indicate the bustling colony. “Lawrence spent a lot of time schooling me, all subjects, because he assessed my intelligence as part of his studies. He insisted he provided me with a better home than my parents would have because demons were ‘vicious animals.’”
Lark smiled, the expression savage, showing off his fangs. “Oh, but we are! I slaughtered six human men a couple weeks ago when the colony was attacked. I tortured one for information. I’m a vicious beast.”
“He described demons as most humans would recognize them. Hell, Satan, all that crap. He said my parents would have eventually eaten me.”
“Eaten you?” Lark lean
ed against the door and laughed.
“I’m serious.”
All humor gone from his tone, Lark said, “Clearly you know every word was bullshit.”
“Raphael was my first insight into reality, and I’ve been observing the truth for the last eleven months. But, for most of my life, my reality was that I was a thing of evil. These civilians were raised by nice parents in nice homes. I don’t belong with them. It’s like I carry a taint with me, an ugliness that I don’t want anywhere near them.”
“Those are your protective instincts talking, the very ones we’re here to discuss. Don’t confuse that with thinking there is actually anything wrong with you. What about Lexine?”
Jett met the other male’s gaze. “Part of me thinks I should stay away from her, too. But I just can’t help myself.”
Lark’s lips twitched. “You’re not going to taint her, idiot. But if she taints you, you’ll be better for it.” A pause. “You do realize, as a Guardian to the archangels, you’re not going to have much time to offer her. We don’t make good mates.”
“What the fuck?” Jett stared. “Your voice just hitched.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“It certainly did! You had a girl?”
“Fuck off.” Lark knocked on the door a second time. “It’s none of your damned business.”
“But—”
Lark hissed.
The door opened, spilling the crimson light of a lantern at their feet. A demon female with red braided hair stepped back, inviting them inside.
“Hello, Cinnamon,” Lark said. They settled in a tiny living room, and Lark made the introductions.
“Please, call me Minnie.” The female shook Jett’s hand. She sat, stiff, clutching a steaming mug.
“We won’t stay long, Minnie,” Lark said. “When we spoke the other day, you agreed to give Jett a demonstration. Are you still okay with that?”
“It’s no problem.” A tiny smile lit her face.
“Thank you.” Lark turned to Jett. “You’re aware, of course, that the majority of the demons alive today were born on earth, but we originally came here from someplace else?”