by Debra Dunbar
She tilted her head and put a reassuring hand on his arm. “I didn’t know any of you before you left Aaru. Some angels claim that demons have always harbored darkness, but others speak with nostalgia and longing of a time when our differences were a compliment and not a conflict.”
“Romantic,” Dar teased, determined to somehow lift this evening from grief into something they’d both remember all their lives. “So this is where you eat and sleep? Surrounded by eighty tons of clothing and footwear?”
Her eyes were drawn to the box of sashimi he waved temptingly before him. “No. I simply have this condo for storage. I really live on the roof.”
Dar felt his heart rise in his throat. Roof? Oh no. They had to be almost nine-hundred feet in the air. Hopefully the roof had a large, sturdy balustrade around the edges. The demon swallowed a few times. “Well then, let’s go to the roof to see where you actually spend your down time. I brought sashimi and a nice sake. We’ll have a lovely romantic open-air dining experience.”
Yeah. If he didn’t puke his raw fish all over the place, he’d be lucky. Chicago wasn’t nicknamed the ‘windy city’ for nothing, and all the buildings swayed as an engineering precaution against structural failure. Shit. Nine-hundred feet up and rocking like a willow in the wind. He should have brought a bottle of Xanax to go with his sake.
The rooftop was as he’d feared. Thankfully it was flat, but the edge was a scant six inches higher than the black pvc membrane he stood on. Winds buffeted the building, and Dar felt it sway. There were taller buildings a few blocks away, but this one towered above its neighbors and took the full force of the tunnel effect as gusts roared through the spaces between skyscrapers.
“How do you stand this?” Dar sat on what seemed to be an electrical box and opened the container. With careful attention, he placed the dishes of hotate, otoro, and tako next to a small container of fugu.
“Stand what?” Asta’s curls blew away from her face, a blinking antenna light sending her features into sharp relief.
“Spending your nights up here. I feel like I’m going to be blown over the edge any second.”
The angel shrugged as she snagged a piece of pickled ginger from one of the trays and deftly popped it into her mouth. “I regain a sense of perspective up here. It’s like being perched on the edge of a cliff, where you can survey the world below. Besides, if I get blown off, I’ll just fly back up.”
“Here. Tako. You’ll either love it or hate it.”
“It’s beautiful.” She examined the sashimi intently. “The little round holes and bumps in the grayish brown are so pretty against the white inside.”
“Octopus,” Dar told her. “It’s rather chewy and has a very subtle taste. Some prefer to put wasabi on it, but I feel that completely masks the flavor of the tako.”
She smiled, and he caught his breath at the trust in her dark eyes. Gripping a piece with awkwardly held chopsticks, she popped it in her mouth and chewed. And chewed and chewed. Finally she swallowed, her nose wrinkling. “Not sure about that one. It feels like parts of it are trying to attach themselves to the inside of my mouth.”
“That’s the suckers.” He let that sink in for a moment and extended another tray toward her. “Basashi. Here, I’ll help you with this one.” Dar placed a bit of ginger and onion on top and deftly plucked it from the tray with his chopsticks. Asta leaned forward, and again he felt the lower regions of his body come to attention as her full lips closed around the meat.
“This is good. It reminds me of the tartare from the other night.”
That had been especially good with the raw egg yolk on top. Dar grinned. “Yes, although this isn’t minced, and it’s horse meat. You have no idea how hard it is to get in the States. The humans here seem to consider it one step away from cannibalism.”
“And this?” Asta grabbed a piece of toro and nodded enthusiastically as she chewed. Dar couldn’t help but laugh at her expression. “It’s like butter. Tuna?”
Dar nodded. “The best cut of Bluefin—anterior belly, up near the head. And now for the fugu, which might kill you.” He smothered a grin as her beautiful eyes widened. “The chef I got it from isn’t exactly licensed, so if you become paralyzed and die of asphyxiation, you’ll know he fucked it up. If not properly prepared, puffer fish is tainted by the animal’s poison. Are you willing to take the risk?”
She looked excited. His angel, living life in the fast lane. Damn, how he wanted her—wanted her forever.
“Mmm. Not chewy like the octopus, but similar in subtle flavor. Almost flaky in texture,” she mumbled, her mouth still full. “My mouth is a little tingly, but I haven’t died yet.”
Dar laughed and continued to present her with the other sashimi he’d brought, urging her to try the unfiltered sake after they’d finished eating. Lying back, watching the stars drift above them as they drank from the little cups he’d bought in Chinatown that evening, Dar felt incredible peace. He’d never felt this way in all of his centuries in Hel, never felt this way on his vacations across the gates. It was her. Life was better when he was sharing it with her.
“So, how do you like my special place?” Her voice was an odd combination of flirty and shy. “This has been my home for the last thirty years. Before that I had a spot over on Rush, but as soon as they built this high-rise, I knew I wanted to be on top.”
On top. He envisioned her on top of other things too, but even as he lay next to her, feeling her warmth and wanting her, Dar couldn’t put the thought of being at the top of a very, very tall building out of his mind. “Have you always been this way? You’ve always liked living so high in the air?”
“Yep.” She rose and wandered to the edge of the roof. “The head of my choir, The Most Ancient Revered Archangel Gabriel, has an affinity for water.” Asta plopped down and swung her legs back and forth over the edge. Dar felt the beginnings of a panic attack just watching her. “I, on the other hand, have an affinity for air. It’s why I cannot keep from flying, even though to do so is an infraction.”
Dar forced himself to stand and walk to her, tearing his eyes from her swinging feet and the ground so far below. “Why aren’t you with a choir whose leader is more air-like? I can’t think a water angel would be an ideal mentor.”
The angel stiffened for a moment before relaxing and shaking her head. “The Most Ancient Revered Archangel Raphael is the highest angel who has an affinity for air. He is... he is nearly an Angel of Chaos. It wouldn’t be a good fit.”
“Why not?” Dar persisted. “I’ve heard he’s a pretty cool guy, way cooler than that asshole Gabriel.”
Asta shot him a narrowed glance. “I won’t sit idly by and listen to slander against the head of my choir.”
Dar raised his hands. “Fine. Fine. But why aren’t you in Raphael’s choir?”
“I’m tempted enough without that particular archangel as a mentor.” Asta’s shoulders slumped. “Gabriel is strict, unbending. He pushes me to be the best I can be. His example keeps me from sin and inspires me to continue on my path to righteousness.”
“And that includes stealing expensive clothing and shoes? A morning shot of caffeine? Sitting on a rooftop with a demon eating raw seafood?”
He meant it to be teasing but felt bad the moment he said it. Asta caught her breath, and Dar swore he saw a glimmer of tears in her eyes. “I do the best I can. With Raphael as a mentor, I’d probably be two steps from Hel. I’m not infallible. I do sin, as much as I try not to. You wouldn’t understand what terrible temptations there are here among the humans.”
Dar held his breath and carefully sat beside the angel. “I do understand. I’m a demon, remember? I love nice clothes and coffee as much as you do.”
She gave him a watery smile. “And flying? I’m sure you fly all the time, since you have immunity and don’t need to fear death at the hand of us angels.”
Don’t look down, don’t look down.
“Uhhh, I don’t fly.”
The angel’s eyes widened.
“You don’t fly? I know you all lost your wings in the Fall, but I thought you could still manifest those leathery bat-type wings. What do you mean; you don’t fly?”
“I... we... .” Dar made the mistake of looking down and felt himself break out in a sweat, his hands white knuckled as he gripped the rim of the roof. “Not all demons can manifest wings. I can’t. I don’t fly.”
Silence fell, and Dar felt her pity. It grated on him like sandpaper. “I don’t want to fly. It’s not my thing. I’m a rat. I like it underground in caves and tunnels. The air isn’t my thing.”
As soon as he’d said the words, a lump settled in his throat. She was an angel with an affinity for air, and he couldn’t fly—wouldn’t fly. The very thought of it sent chills down his spine.
“I’ll fly you. You need to experience it, even if just this once. If you don’t like it, that’s fine—you don’t ever have to do it again.”
Dar tensed, his hands gripping the ledge of the roof so hard he feared it would crumble in his grasp. A hand touched his shoulder, and he jumped with an involuntary reflex.
“Trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you, I swear. Trust me.” Her mouth turned up in the most adorable smile ever. “I’ve trusted you these last few days. It’s your turn.”
The demon drew a shaky breath. It was as good a day to die as any. “Okay. Just a short flight.”
He glanced over and saw the warm approval in her face. Moonlight and some inner glow lit her like a beacon in the night. Golden brown. Everything about her was like a warm loaf of bread right out of the oven. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she’d drop him from a thousand feet up, or drown him in Lake Michigan. It didn’t matter, because he was lost in the beautiful joy shining from her dark eyes.
“I’ll even fly you in your rat form. How’s that? Both of us conquering our fears at the same time.”
Who says I’m afraid? It’s what Dar wanted to say, but instead something totally different came out. “Right. You’ll be more likely to panic and drop me as a rat than as a demon. I know how you feel about rodents.”
The brown eyes widened then Asta threw back her head and laughed. It was a deep, smoky, musical laugh, and Dar felt his hands loosen on the roof ledge.
“I swear on my eternal soul that I will not drop you.” The angel’s eyes grew soft. Dar could have sworn he saw something in them that was more than affection. “I will never let you go, Dar, no matter how red your beady eyes are, or how your whiskery nose twitches, or how much your sharp claws dig into my skin. I will never let you go.”
Dar took a deep breath and stood. “I can’t promise I won’t puke on you.”
Asta rose, huge wings of brown and gold extending full-width from her back. “Vomit is not included in this excursion. You puke on my shirt and you’re going for a swim.”
Chapter 16
Dar went to change into his rat form and hesitated. He hadn’t brought any additional clothing. If he destroyed these, he’d be heading back to his hotel room dressed in one of Asta’s outfits. With a shudder at the thought of wearing a minidress, he carefully removed his outfit, neatly folding everything and placing the clothes on a reasonably clean spot.
And now he was a rat—a two-foot-long rat with sharp claws and glowing eyes. Asta took a sharp breath and turned her head to look over the edge of the rooftop. This wasn’t going to work. He was on the verge of a heart attack just thinking of being flown far above the skyline, and she couldn’t even look at him. What was he doing thinking there could ever be anything beyond a moment’s attraction between them?
“Dar?” Asta reached out a hand toward him, her eyes still averted. “Can you help me out? I don’t think I can do this, and I really need your help.”
Something in her voice pulled at him. An angel asking for a demon’s help—surely Hel was freezing over right now. Dar moved under her hand, nudging her palm with his nose and rubbing his head along her fingers. They curled around the side of his shoulder, scooping him up carefully.
“You’re heavy.” Her other hand cradled his other side, and Dar was lifted toward her chest. He really wanted to snuggle into that warm space between her breasts, hear her heart beat against his cheek, but the thought that she might freak out and drop him was a huge deterrent. Asta still sat along the edge of the roof—and now Dar was held in her hands, suspended over the pavement so far below.
Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Fuck, he was going to puke if he even thought about how far down the city streets were. Instead, he focused on Asta’s face—or rather, on her chin, since she still refused to look at him.
This is fucking stupid. I’m going to die. And what a humiliating death it would be—horny demon trusts a musophobic angel and ends his life splattered on State Street.
“Ready?”
Dar squeaked his reply and felt her hands tighten painfully around him. Yes. Yes, I’m ready. For fuck sake, don’t crush me.
“Sorry.”
The angel took a few deep breaths, affording Dar a magnificent view of her cleavage, then revealed her wings.
Dar had seen them from afar, but he’d never been up close to Asta’s wings—and he’d never seen an angel bring them from their safe place into the open. The air shifted aside, as if the night suddenly wrinkled along the edges of the angel’s back. Then, with a sonic boom, blackness gave way to a burst of brown and gold. There was no gentle unfurling, no flash of light, just a deafening crack, and the snap of muscle and feathers extended to full length.
He only had a moment to admire them before the angel fell face-first from the ledge. All the air left Dar’s lungs and his stomach launched upward. They were falling. They were falling. Why the fuck wasn’t she using her wings? His claws extended to their lethal length, and Dar fought to keep from digging them into her chest to hold tight. Was she doing this insane free fall on purpose? If so, he was going to sink his sharp teeth into her hands as soon as they were safely on the ground. Paybacks were hell.
Dar was convinced they were seconds from impact when Asta finally extended her wings, cupping the air and angling her body. His stomach sank toward his heels as they rocketed upward. The buildings were a blur of light as they rushed by. Dar shut his eyes tight and tried to gain control over his breathing. When he opened them, they were far above the city, hovering gently in a thermal.
“You okay?” He saw a flash of gold as Asta glanced briefly down at him.
Oh yeah. No problem at all. Wheee! Total rollercoaster fun. That wasn’t the most convincing lie he’d ever told. It might have come across as amazingly sarcastic, but it was the best he could do. There was no way he would let this angel know how close to stroking out he’d come.
“Yeah, well it’s not all sunshine and roses for me, holding a rat while I’m flying. I needed to do something to take my mind off that particular fact.”
He loved it when she was pissy. All right, Maverick. Let’s see what you’re made of.
Either he had a death wish, or had balls of steel to challenge her like that. All Dar knew was that he wanted her to concentrate on something other than his beady eyes and long tail. If aerial acrobatics helped the angel do that, then fine. He’d survived worse.
Or not. The angel launched upward at an angle that would have stalled aircraft, and then she looped around, her back arched gracefully. If he hadn’t been so close to puking, Dar would have appreciated how beautiful her movements were. She truly loved to fly.
And he hated every moment of it.
They leveled out, sweeping down along the narrow corridors of northern Chicago, then eastward to cut across the moonlit path that painted Lake Michigan shades of silver. It was beautiful, and Dar struggled to put his fear aside and appreciate this different view of the city. Still, he could feel nothing beyond overwhelming relief when they soared back toward the rooftop where they’d begun this crazy experiment.
***
Her feet touched lightly on the roof, and she spread her wings wide, for balance. What an insane folly. She di
dn’t have enough fingers and toes to count the number of times she’d nearly freaked out and dropped him. Having a rat in her hands was bad enough, but the way he’d squirmed and scraped his claws against her fingers had nearly done her in. This was a lovely flirtation with the enemy, but that’s all it could ever be. They were miles apart. Angel and demon—a creature of air and a creature of darkness. He was so different from all the angels she knew, and that made for a crazy burst of passion. She’d dance with sin, maybe even cross the line, but whatever was between them could never last.
Are we on the ground yet? Please tell me we’re on the ground. Dar held perfectly still.
“Yes. Although I don’t think I’d call my rooftop ‘the ground’.” She’d done it—held a rat and hadn’t succumbed to a panic attack, or pitched him into the lake. Never in a million years had she ever thought she’d be doing this. A rat. She was holding a rat.
Yes, that rat was really Dar, but he still looked and felt like a horrible, nasty rat. Supporting him with one hand, Asta ran her fingers over the smooth gray fur, feeling the curve of muscle and jut of bone beneath his skin. His paws looked just like hands; the long sharp nails gently curved around her fingers. This wasn’t so bad. He actually felt rather nice. If she could just get past the red eyes, sharp teeth, twitching nose, pink tail, and long claws, he was rather cute. Twisting his head, Dar looked back at her with red eyes, his nose twitching. Ugh. Maybe he wasn’t so cute—at least not like this. Still, she was holding a rat. Holding a rat.
Then, in a flash of light, she was no longer holding a rat but a naked man. “Still afraid of heights?” she asked.
“Terrified.” He turned around to face her, holding her hands to keep them against his waist. “How about you? Still afraid of rats?”
“All except for you. Well, I’m kind of afraid of you when you flip your tail around and claw me, but other than that, I’m good.”
She was more than good now. His skin was warm against her palms. Why didn’t he have clothing on? At the very least, some underwear would have been helpful. Oh yeah. He’d stacked it by their dinner remnants and couldn’t exactly put it on when her arms were gripping his sides.