by Sarah Gilman
“Yes. Like the archangels, they seemed to fall from the sky.”
“Exactly. Minnie is the only demon currently living in Sanctuary who wasn’t born on earth. She fell.”
Minnie fidgeted. “I woke up in the forest that day. I don’t remember anything from before that. I knew things, though. I could speak. I used a fork as if I’d done it before. And, of course, I could do this.”
She set her mug down, leaned forward, and leveled an unfocused gaze on Jett.
“What—” His question died on his lips as a profound sense of calm washed over him, like those few blissful seconds after waking from a deep sleep in a comfortable bed. He stretched and leaned back in his chair, shutting his eyes.
Ah, yes. He had to get one of these chairs. He could fall asleep right here, or read a good book. Better yet, he could pull Lexine into his lap and make love to her. Leisurely, thoroughly. They could fall asleep together, curled up in this chair.
It seemed like he was forgetting something important, something urgent. Did he have something to be angry about? He’d be damned if he could think of what it was. Oh, well. First a nap.
Wait, was someone crying? He opened his eyes. The girl, Minnie, held her head in her hands, her body shuddering with sobs.
“Enough, Minnie,” Lark said.
Between one blink and the next, Jett crashed back into himself and leaped to his feet. His heart hammered in his chest. Lawrence. Thornton. Bryce’s kidnapping. The attack on the colony and the archangels. Anger. Bitterness. Regret. Fear.
“What the hell just happened to me?”
Lark got to his feet. “She took your emotional pain away.”
“She what?”
Minnie cleaned her face with a tissue and took a deep breath. “I can sense all the hurt you carry, and I can absorb it into myself. For a few minutes, anyway. What happened to you? How did you even survive whatever it was you’ve been through?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Rare demons have psychic talents like the archangels have, but every demon who has ever fallen to earth has been an empath,” Lark said. “Like our ability to produce demon fire, the empathic skills require no energy, unlike typical psychic talents.”
“Negative and painful emotions have a much stronger signal than anything else,” Minnie added.
“Mind readers?” Jett eyed the female. “You took my memories away?”
“No,” Minnie said. “I can only sense and manipulate the emotional pain associated with the memories. Without the lingering pain to tie you to them, they slipped into the back of your mind.”
Jett scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Okay. Damn. You shouldn’t do that. You were crying.”
She smiled. “I took for two minutes what you’re no doubt holding like a torch day in and day out. I can’t stand to see anyone in such pain. I want to ease others when I can.”
“What is the point of this?” He got in Lark’s face.
“I needed you to experience that so you’d know exactly what your heritage is. Your parents fell to earth hundreds of years ago. Unlike the ability to produce demon fire, the empathic ability is never passed on full strength to the earthborn. However, some children inherit stronger skills than others. Those with the most pronounced empathic traits usually become Guardians. Like you and me.”
“I have no such talent.”
“No, you can’t manipulate emotions the way Minnie can, the way your parents could. But, to use your words, you’re ‘damned sentimental.’ You have a strong empathic trait that makes you much more than a deadly bodyguard. Though you may not be consciously aware of it, you’re responding to the archangels’ emotional state and trying to ease them, like Minnie just did for you. You’ve been doing that from the moment Thornton tasked you to monitor Raphael in his prison.”
“I don’t know… Any decent person would have…”
“Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t want to claw your own skin off in frustration when Ginger went into labor.”
“I had no way to know she’d gone into labor.”
“But you did know.”
“Yes.”
“Did the delivery go smoothly?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”
“You do know. Trust your instincts. What do you think happened that night?”
Jett ground his teeth. “Something went wrong around sundown. My pulse started pounding. I was sweating and I couldn’t sit still.”
“A physical reaction? You may be even stronger than I thought. What else?”
Jett focused on the memory, on the peculiar thoughts that had entered his head. “Panic. Fear.” He’d blamed the episode on a dinner of bad meat. “Wren.”
“Correct.” Lark arched an eyebrow. “Phoenix wasn’t breathing. Wren’s healing talent didn’t help because her condition wasn’t caused by an injury. Thankfully, a couple good smacks between the wings did the trick. How did you know it was Wren, specifically?”
“I don’t—”
“Trust your instincts. Tell me. You’re not imagining things.”
“Fine. I sense that Wren and Raphael deal with emotions very differently. Raphael keeps everything under heavy layers of false calm. With Wren, everything comes to the surface. During the birth, I think Raphael wasn’t with them. He was worried, expectant. He must have been waiting for news at a different location.”
“Right again.”
“Okay…so if I’m such a strong empath, why don’t I respond to everyone in the colony? Even Lexine at the funeral didn’t affect me as much.”
“You’ll learn to use your skill more effectively in time. You’ve been watching over Raphael for years. A bond develops between a Guardian and his charges. You’re more in tune, so to speak, with Raphael and, as his blood relative, with Wren. If you stay with Lexine, a bond with her will grow in time.”
“Like with Caza,” Minnie whispered.
The Guardian stiffened. “Indeed. Thank you for your help, Minnie. Jett, let’s go.”
…
Lexine made her way along Sanctuary’s main path, the negligee she’d found at the market wrapped discreetly in a sheet of tissue paper. Pleased with the wicked scrap of lace, she headed for her new apartment. After she and Jett had parted, she’d used the night hours to move her things. Her parents and some of the demons who worked the orchard had helped lug the stored bottles to the first floor and carry the bedroom furniture up the stairs. She didn’t have much, so the move hadn’t taken long.
Her new place gave her a sense of forward motion and purpose that she’d been lacking while under her parents’ roof. Tomorrow, she’d start the first batch of wine.
She rubbed the tissue paper between her fingers. When would she see Jett again? A few days? A few weeks? Would he like how she looked in the dainty lace? Did she even dare wear it for him? She’d never been sexually shy, but Jett was working his way under her skin in a way no one had before. Sitting in the home he’d made for himself, the first home he’d had since his childhood kidnapping, she’d known he was showing her something he’d share with no one else, and the intimacy left a lasting warmth around her heart.
She didn’t welcome the sensation. The closer she got to him, the more it would hurt later. Yet, she’d taken the negligee and couldn’t wait to try it on.
Foolish girl.
“Lex.”
She stopped walking at the sound of Jett’s voice and turned. He stood a few yards away, with Lark, outside of Cinnamon’s residence. Lark said something to Jett that she couldn’t hear, and he headed off on the path that led to the archangel house. Jett approached her.
“Hi.” The tissue paper crinkled under her tightening grip.
He didn’t speak for a moment, his head tilted to the side as he looked her over. Strain showed in the ridged set of his shoulders. “Hi.”
“How’d it go tonight?”
He shook his head and shot a narrowed-eyed stare toward Minnie’s place.
“Now you
know how demons used to find mates in the forest, I take it.”
“Yes.” He ran his fingers along her jaw. “I’d just figured I was some sort of ridiculous sap. I did my best to keep it hidden.”
She laughed, more from warmth than amusement. “Empathic traits are a strength, not a weakness. If anything, to be honest, it scares me.”
“Why?”
“If we spend enough time together, you’ll be able to read every emotion I have. I won’t be able to hide anything from you.”
“And what would you hide from me, Lexine?”
That I want you even though I know I can’t keep you.
He let her off the hook. “I’m off training until noon today, and there’s something I need to do. I’d love some company, if you’d be willing to join me.”
“Of course.” She couldn’t suppress a wide smile. “I just need to stop by my apartment first.”
“Sure.” He offered his elbow.
She threaded her arm through his with a shiver. The solid feel of him—compounded by the Guardian black and the distinct feel of a concealed blade above his wrist—invited her to melt into his touch. And she happily did so.
Lexine, this is very, very bad.
Chapter Fifteen
Jett wandered around the winery building. The place wasn’t the best choice for Lexine, away from the rest of the colony and so near the woods humans could sneak through. Granted, the archangels were just as isolated, but they had twenty-four-hour protection. Lexine did not.
He suppressed a growl. The place made her smile and lightened her step. Her excitement as she’d spoken about winemaking had been infectious. Instead of dragging her back to a safer place, he’d find a way to make the location more secure.
A hundred security cameras, a twenty-foot wall, and a moat would be a good start.
As Lexine rushed up the stairs, the paper around the bundle in her arms shifted, revealing black lace that, if worn, wouldn’t conceal a damned thing. She paused, met his gaze, and grinned before disappearing. He stared after her, frozen in place.
Suddenly, the last thing he wanted to do was go out. He didn’t want to dive any deeper into his past for now. He wanted Lexine his arms.
Would she be willing to go further than they had yes-terday?
He climbed the stairs, but before the room above came into view, he tapped his knuckles against the wall. “May I see?”
Part of him meant the room. Most of him meant the black lace.
“One second.”
He stood on the stairs, listening as her footsteps padded across the floor, then silence. What was she doing? Agonizing seconds turned into minutes of torture, until finally she called out again. “Okay.”
He climbed the remaining stairs. Light from a golden sunrise invaded through the picture window and spilled across the floor. Lexine stood in the middle of the room, her near-black hair loose from her usual braid, brushed to a shine, and pulled forward over her right shoulder, leaving a view of the tantalizing curve of her neck. Thin black lace veiled her body, revealing more than it concealed, tinged with gold from the sunrise.
“What do you think?” Though her fingers curled in nervous fists, she twisted at the waist, making the lace ripple around her hips.
“I’m afraid I can’t think at all.”
“That sounds like a good thing.”
“Debatable.” He halved the distance between them and circled her. Taking in the view from behind, which featured the bare skin of her back and only the thinnest scrap of lace over her bottom, he said, his voice thick, “I think it’s a very bad thing. I’m not going to be able to behave myself.”
“Well, I didn’t put this on to encourage you to behave.”
He strode forward and kissed her nape, his hands closing over her hips. The heat of her skin through the thin veil seared his hands, driving him to get closer. He reached around and touched her belly, molding himself to her back.
Her head tipped to rest on his shoulder, and he kissed the exposed side of her neck. He squeezed her body, needing her closer, needing to have her the way he’d envisioned when Minnie had taken away all his worries, all his baggage. He wanted to love her until the world faded away with his own actions.
She turned around in his arms, unzipped his jacket, and stripped him down to his skintight black shirt. Her face paled as her gaze wandered over him. Unlike when they’d hiked out to his camp in the woods, when he’d only taken a few items, his full arsenal of weaponry clung to his body. Blades on his arms and hips. Throwing knives sheathed around his chest and his middle. A gun strapped to his back.
A protector and a killer. She knew that, but what did she really think, seeing him this way? Her pulse ticked at a rapid pace at the base of her throat. Did she fear him? He shut his eyes, seeking out the place in his mind that he so often tried to ignore.
There. The intrusive sense of emotions in his head that weren’t his own. Not as strong as with the archangels, but discernible.
No fear, not even a hint of it. Instead, a thrill. A shadow of guilt.
“You like seeing me decked out like this.” He opened his eyes and studied her face. “But you don’t think you should.”
A blush rose to her cheeks, and she dropped her gaze.
“Too late to be shy.”
She lifted her chin. “I respect what you do.”
“I appreciate that, but tell me all of it, Lex.”
Her lips compressed into a scowl. He lowered his head and kissed her, forcing those lips open again with his tongue. “Tell me.”
“You make me feel safe.”
“And?”
She squirmed. “And it’s an insane turn-on, okay?”
He chuckled. “Good.”
“That doesn’t bother you?”
“It would bother me if I had to worry about frightening you. This is what I’m trying to become, after all.”
She put her hands on him then, her fingers making hot trails down his chest, between the throwing blades to the hem of his pants. “It’s not the weapons. It’s the wielder.”
He lifted her at the waist and set her down on the edge of the bed. Kneeling before her, he unfastened the throwing blades first, then the gun, then the fighting knives, and set them all on the floor. He removed the smaller blades from his arms last.
“That all of it?” Her voice held false shock as she smiled at him.
He scratched his chin in mock consideration, stood, and pulled the additional set of throwing blades from his boots. “I think that about covers it.”
She laughed.
He pulled off his shirt, watching her watch him. Leaning back on her elbows, she rubbed her legs together and fidgeted with the blanket. Her large amber eyes dominated her face and wisps of her black hair fell across her cheek. He couldn’t imagine a more beautiful female.
Plenty of striking women lived in the colony. None of them drew him in as Lexine did.
Flames coating her hands, she sat up and pulled him forward to stand between her knees. The additional heat from the fire sank into his skin as she touched him. She added her lips to the caress as she worked over his chest and stomach.
He’d been touched a hell of a lot in his life. Never before Lex had he enjoyed it. A light growl filled his throat as her hands traveled lower.
She got to her feet, one hand at the button of his pants, the other at the small of his back.
A belated thought invaded the moment. “I don’t have any protection.”
“There are no diseases in the demon population, and I can’t get pregnant unless you bite me. A male’s venom in the bloodstream is needed to make a female fertile.” She arched an eyebrow. “And you can’t bite me, anyway, remember?”
“I see.” The words escaped his lips in a heavy sigh as she released the button and the zipper.
Her lips curved in a wicked smile. “I might bite you, however.”
He kicked off his boots, shoved his pants and boxers off. Pulling the black lace over her head an
d seeing her body fully revealed, he could barely breathe. He guided her down onto the bed with him.
…
Lexine’s back hit the cool quilt as Jett straddled her. He bent, licking and kissing her throat, working his way down to her breasts. When he covered her left nipple with his mouth, she cried out.
He’d admitted yesterday that he was a virgin, but he certainly didn’t fumble around like one. No surprise. He wasn’t the fumbling sort, not in any aspect of his life that she’d seen.
He switched to the other breast and his fingers found her most sensitive flesh. She arched against him when he found the right spot, and he teased her until she struggled. He chuckled, a deep, husky sound, but otherwise ignored her protests and continued with his ministrations. With his knees on either side of her hips and his free hand on her shoulder, he held her down without effort.
Well, he’d asked for it. She lifted her head. Kissing him halfway between his wrist and his elbow, she scraped her fangs over the tender underside of his arm. She increased the pressure, piercing the skin the slightest bit. Pausing, she waited a moment for the venom to numb the spot. Then, she bit down, delivering what she knew to be a heady buzz, like the glow after doing shots of fine alcohol.
His body relaxed against hers and a flush rose to his cheeks, framed by his mussed, blond hair. She loved his hair, the way he wore it longer than most males. She released his arm and snatched a tissue from the bedside table to dab at the wound.
Jett planted his hands on either side of her head and kissed her. The sweet taste and scent of him consumed her senses. As he lingered at her mouth, she reached between them and stroked him. He sucked in a sharp breath, but she wove her fingers into his hair with her free hand to keep him near, returning his kisses, unable to get enough.
When he did lean away, her protest died on her lips. He repositioned himself between her thighs, explored her again for a moment with his fingers, and pushed himself into her center. He made love to her with deep strokes, each one deliberately drawn out. Holding her gaze, he drove her, slow and relentless. Speeding up would have been a mercy, but he gave her no break from the intensity. The muscles of his back flexed under her hands as he moved.