Angel Lover

by Tricia Skinner

  If she interfered, the Renegade would be suspicious, but Kas would live. Yet if she did nothing…

  Her Grace pulsed out toward the angry Nephilim and over a small circumference where he stood. Rahab rematerialized, his power disrupted by hers, and Kas’s dagger caught his side, slashing through his jacket. The angel grunted and vanished in the whoosh of another teleportation attempt, only to reappear when he failed. Blood spurted from his wound, flowing around the fingers he pressed against it.

  Kas took advantage, pouncing to attack. He swept his leg out, catching his sire’s ankles and bringing him to the ground. Mariel shut her power off, and Rahab disappeared before Kas could stab down.

  “Enough!” She pulled her gun, a weapon she disliked, and shot the ground near the Nephilim. Her superior reappeared, and she let a bullet fly near his feet. Both men tensed and turned their heads toward her, as if seeing her for the first time.

  She hopped off the table and made a show of checking her clothing. Her mind was not nearly as calm. She’d shot at two of the most dangerous men she knew, interrupting their fight. A tremor invaded her fingers as she holstered the gun behind her back.

  Mariel turned and concentrated on casting a bland expression. “Rahab, that was quite a test.”

  She braced herself and faced Kas. “I warned you about showing off. There was no need, since your skill is well-known. Mastema should be pleased.”

  Kas slanted his eyes.

  She was talking out of her rear, but if he didn’t follow suit…

  His eyes widened, ever so slightly. The Nephilim’s gaze switched to Rahab. “Did I pass?”

  Time slowed, as if the whole world hung on the steady rise and fall of the Renegade’s chest. He tilted his head, but his blank expression gave nothing away. “Yes.”

  Rahab touched his side, the tear from the dagger marring his shirt, but already the flow of blood had stopped. Soon there wouldn’t even be a scar. “How did you manage to strike me?”

  The glare he sent Mariel promised payback. She concentrated on not lowering her eyes.

  “It’s called skills, old man,” Kas said in a tone dripping contempt.

  “And teleportation. When did that skill surface?”

  Mariel could hear her heartbeat in her ears. She also wanted to know the answer.

  When Kas’s mouth split into a broad sneer, she cleared her throat. “We should return to the reason we are here.”

  Rahab doused the flaming sword and returned it to his back scabbard, allowing the subject change. “Were you successful in your conversation with the councilwoman?”

  “Yes,” she answered quickly. “I witnessed the meeting. The permit is secured.”

  “Excellent,” the Renegade said to Kas. “Then we offer you a place among our organization. Join us in our mission, and you will be rewarded.”

  “Why don’t you run the prize package past me one more time?” The Nephilim crossed his arms. “See, I wanna make sure I understand the price of betraying the Directorate. You know, the ones who can send an army after my featherless ass.”

  Mariel balled her hands behind her back and prayed to the Creator to spare them Kas’s brashness.

  Surprisingly, Rahab grinned. “I like not your words, Kasdeja, but you show spirit.” His agitated wings settled behind him. “Help us stop the Directorate, and you and the other half-br—Nephilim will receive not only our gratitude, but the one gift you will receive from no other angel. We can remove the binding on your power. We shall free you all.”

  The conviction in the Renegade’s voice rang clear and smothered Kas’s indifferent facade. Concern poked at Mariel. Her real boss, Kaonos, didn’t believe their enemies had the capability, but this could not be idle talk. The Renegades wouldn’t risk exposure to the Bound without something tangible—but they were, literally, legendary deceivers.

  “That’s right up there with holding out a bottle of Absolut to an alcoholic.” Kas moved to stand directly in front of his sire. His chest puffed out, his weight on the balls of his feet…ready. His reply came on a snarl. “And why is that? Why’d you and your buddies make the offer? What do you really want?”

  “I want revenge.” Rahab’s eyes narrowed, even as light sparked behind them. He leaned in, low and fierce, and said, “Revenge on Heaven for the crimes they have committed against us.” His chest heaved and his wings spanned, full and menacing in a dark arch above him. “And I will not allow my son to remain enslaved any longer.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Everything he’d fought for, every slight he’d had to endure for centuries rushed into Kas’s body and twisted. He welcomed the pain.

  He needed something, anything, to anchor himself. The moment he’d seen his sire, the entire expanse of his life had crumbled, like a domino about to pitch forward, toppling what he’d always believed.

  Rahab was alive and apparently high enough in the Renegade ranks to make a deal with him.

  Kas worked at controlling his breathing and his tone of voice before he replied. “Not good enough. Why approach me? Why not the others?”

  His sire’s calculating gaze analyzed him. “You were born with a rare talent. Mind reading is uncommon among angel-kind, and few have a natural defense against it—unlike me. But the binding hinders you. The curse is said to bring you immeasurable pain.”

  The blatant curiosity, the inquisitive look on his face, made Kas’s skin itch. Rahab was right—Kas had never been able to read the prick. Seemed his gift respected their shared DNA. Plus, he didn’t need to waste the juice trying to read the angel’s thoughts. The Renegades would already know details about the Act of Contrition.

  “I can read everyone else,” he said, resisting a side glance at Mariel. The white noise she threw off was the exception. “My guess is you want me to get into someone’s head.”

  “Not someone,” Rahab replied. “Many someones. The allies of Heaven.”

  Kas stared at Mariel, who met his eyes without flinching.

  “I join you to spy on the Directorate’s allies. That’s it? That’s the big plan?”

  For the first time, Rahab’s expression lightened. They were the same height, minus the wingspan of the Renegade’s outstretched flappers. Kas had inherited his sire’s black hair and high cheekbones, but in his sire he also saw the same stubborn jaw, the same thick eyebrows, the same assessing eyes.

  “I can teach you how to grow stronger, to project your Grace over a wider distance. No angel, no human, no Other would be blocked to you.” His sire stepped close, arm outstretched as if to connect, until his hand hovered near Kas’s shoulder. The fingers flexed, but his hand dropped away. “And now that I know you have inherited my teleportation, I will make you unstoppable.”

  Kas mashed his lips together. His millennia of pain and suffering wouldn’t fade away easily. If the bastard believed he would run to him and play the grateful son, he was all too ready to deliver a shitload of disappointment.

  “The Directorate has a vast network of informants in this city and elsewhere,” Rahab said, as if nothing had happened between them. As if they had no history. No, he continued on with the chilly aloofness of his race. “Most of those contacts we have avoided, but our goals would be more easily served without such nuisances.”

  Kas listened, but doubt settled in the back of his mind. One screwup, and he placed his survival chances somewhere between “not likely” and “feeding worms.”

  Success in his mission meant freeing himself and his brothers, but now he realized moving forward would put him up against his sire. Facing off against the angel without outside help was suicidal. He stared across the short distance at the Renegade. Rahab had placed loyalty to his fallen brotherhood above his own flesh and blood.

  “I’ll consider your offer,” Kas said flatly.

  Rahab’s wings extended. “I will await your decision.” He looked at Mariel and then leveled a hard glare at Kas. “But not long.”

  The Renegade launched into the air on a powerful thr
ust. He rose into the dark sky, blending easily with the night, and soared away.

  Kas kept his eyes on the figure until there was nothing but clouds. His gaze dipped as he struggled with his composure, then he saw Mariel’s gleaming eyes. If anything, her alluring skin tone appeared duller than earlier, as if the conversation had left her drained.

  “Nothing to say?” All his unspent anger and confusion rumbled through his body. “Did you know? About him and me?”

  “No.” Mariel turned away.

  How could she not know? She worked with those bastards and was their in-house messenger service. She’d been made privy to information on him and the Bound.

  She neared the rear of his truck, but he rushed forward and spun her to face him.

  “Let go.”

  “Not yet.” Kas placed his hands and legs on either side of her, blocking escape. “You’re holding out on me.”

  Pressed against her, his subconscious cataloged everything. Her breasts were small, but full. A flat midsection curved into her slender waist and hips. Strong thighs tensed between his legs. Her height placed her at just the right angle for him to kiss her. His gaze dropped to her lips.

  Mariel attempted to duck under his arm, but Kas pressed his lower body against hers and caught her left and right hands in the middle of a sequence of slaps. He pinned those against the window.

  “Rahab didn’t want me purely for my tech savvy,” Kas said, getting up into her face. “He sired me. That’s not something you could miss.”

  Her face pinched, and her eyelids lowered. “Believe what you wish. Until he called you son, I had no idea.”

  She looked directly into his eyes. Such a beautiful face…

  He surged, trapping her reply in his mouth. He took the kiss he’d needed, fast and deep, until she responded with a kind of ferocity that pumped blood straight to his crotch.

  Her hands fell from his loose hold, and she rested them on his shoulders. Kas tugged her close and discovered she fit against him better than he’d imagined. Just one moment to feel alive.

  His desire fired his Grace, snuffing any restraint. With Mariel in his arms, reality retreated, and his mind fogged. Her fingers laced behind his neck, drawing him closer. His hands found her waist and slipped under the fabric of her shirt. At the first brush of skin against skin, he groaned and moved Mariel against the hatch.

  Her breath hitched.

  Kas pulled back far enough from his passion haze to look at her. He breathed deep and raked his hair, then he turned away. Drawing more air through his nose, he clenched and unclenched his hands.

  “That was a mistake.” Mariel stormed past him and toward her car.

  Her words worked better than sticking his dick in a bucket of ice cubes. “I won’t apologize.”

  She pivoted and raised a finger, pointing at him and herself. “It would be a mistake for two people like us to, to…get together. We are not compatible.”

  “Hold up. The broken angel is giving me the brush-off?”

  Unfortunately, the zinger hit exactly as planned, and her face flashed with hurt. Now he felt like a jackass. She was the last person he wanted to hurt. He prepared to take it back, but his phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at the caller ID, cursed, and thumbed the talk button.

  “The Church,” his brother Cain said and disconnected the call.

  His chest tightened, but he put away the phone and opened his truck door.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “I have something to do.”

  “I am going with you.”

  “Team business,” he said, biting back a hundred other things he wanted to say.

  “I will follow in my car.”

  “Like hell you will.” Kas slammed the door and shot her a defiant glare. He was not in the mood for a tagalong. If he were honest, their attraction had him reeling, and he needed time away from her to get some perspective before the inevitable showdown with his brothers.

  She set her shoulders back and straightened her shirt. “Rahab waits for my word you have accepted the offer.” Her eyebrows dipped with her scowl. “I am not convinced you are ready, but I will know when I see you with the others.”

  Kas mulled over the idea. His brother hadn’t said why they were gathering at the nightclub, but an audience would add weight to his plan. If Mariel reported his split from the Bound, Rahab would have to believe he’d truly gone rogue.

  “I blow through yellow lights—so try to keep up.”

  …

  Alone in her car, Mariel turned on the air conditioner. The blast of cold air brought goose bumps to her skin, cooled the sweat under her shirt, and gave her time to analyze her confusing behavior.

  She was an angel. Stronger than Kas, able to fling him off without much effort. Yet she hadn’t. Not when his stormy gaze warned her he would kiss her. Seduction was part of her mission, but each kiss they shared made her feel…less certain.

  “Not smart. Not smart at all.”

  When had the Nephilim switched from complete enemy to potential partner? Kas had his own agenda, as she had hers. But she hadn’t imagined the naked shock on his face, the pain in his eyes. Rahab’s appearance had hurt, deeply.

  And so she’d allowed the kiss.

  To secure his trust.

  “Right.” Mariel snorted and eased her car behind his truck.

  Making out with him was a decadent act. She wanted—no, needed—to feel.

  And Kas, the half-angel assassin, made her feel plenty.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kas pulled the SUV into the parking lot across from the Church. Discarded White Castle fast food bags flying up in the wake of his truck settled back to the asphalt, and discarded beer cans crunched under his tires. Without exiting the cab, he shoved open his door and overturned a trash can, spilling half-eaten crap and worse onto the pavement.

  His run-in with Rahab zinged through his nerves and chipped away more of his control. Bad idea to face the team wired and cruising for another fight, but he had to be convincing to pull off the next part of his charade. Had to shred his natural aversion to hurting his family.

  A light tap on his passenger window grounded him. Mariel pursed her lips and then asked through the window, “Have they arrived?”

  “Yeah. Seen their cars.”

  He focused on not imploding. Not imploding because he planned to lie point-blank to people he loved, not imploding because he didn’t understand his strange new talent. Nausea coiled low and tied his organs in knots. Kas clutched the door. Discovery of a new ability came at a shitty time.

  Mariel walked around to the driver’s side to stand in the open driver’s door, her eyes scanning his face. “Are you unwell?”

  “Let’s go.”

  The werewolf bouncer let them slip inside, where the blast of industrial music immediately assaulted his eardrums. Clubbers with sweat-stained clothes pumped their fists in the air and wiggled their liposucked asses to the rhythm. Pungent clouds of marijuana blended with the undercurrent of sex.

  His earlier discomfort stirred. He’d spent his life working with his mind-reading gift, but this new teleportation thing would only be a boon if he could bring it under control.

  Kas slipped around the bar to avoid the weed fog choking half the dance floor. He stomped over to his usual spot and halted.

  “You look like shit,” Cain said upon his arrival.

  “Or as tired as I feel,” Jarrid added, sending a glare at Cain. “Sit down before you fall down.”

  As Kas reached for a chair, he checked over his shoulder. Mariel wasn’t with him. He offered a quick nod to Nesty.

  Jarrid leaned in. “Bruises?”

  Well, shit. He’d thought the darkened club and multicolored stage lights would cover the signs of his tap dance with Rahab. His head wasn’t on straight. Ten more minutes and his skin would have completely healed.

  “It’s nothing. A thug practiced his mugging skills on the wrong guy.”

  “A hosti
le was close enough to land a hit?” Cain said, eyebrows raised.

  Kas flipped him a middle finger.

  The ever silent Nesty pushed a beer across the table. Kas grabbed it and with a final glare at Cain gulped the dark liquid until the bottle emptied. He signaled to a waitress for another.

  Jarrid eyed the empty. “Now, you want to tell us what’s riding you?”

  “I’m tired.” That was true. Drained, running on empty, tipping into zero. “Just so fucking tired.”

  “Of?” asked Nesty, the man of few words.

  Kas looked at the other Nephilim. Nesty could see more than people suspected—or wanted. He lowered his gaze.

  “Tired of searching for Renegades. Tired of the fucking Directorate ordering me around and not offering shit for the work I do. Tired of all the centuries I’ve been tied to those pricks. Tired of their control over my goddamned soul.”

  Cain blew out a whistle. “Christ, bro, that’s some heavy exhaustion.”

  “If there is a bright side, it’s us,” Jarrid interrupted. “They brought us together.”

  Kas balled his hands into fists and locked onto his goal. Just lay it all down, make his position clear, then walk the fuck out. “How does that outweigh losing my freedom forever?”

  No one spoke. They looked at each other and then back at him.

  Nesty, shifting in his chair, breached the awkward silence. “What happened?”

  Kas avoided his brother’s concerned gaze. “Nothing.”

  “We’re all tired of this bull, but you sound…I don’t know. Confused,” Jarrid said with a toss of his hands. “This is the job. We follow orders. We deal.”

  Make it good. Kas shoved from the table and rose, knocking over his chair. Jarrid was quick to his feet and in his face. They sized each other up. Tension crammed into Kas’s shoulders. If he had to make this violent, then so be it. They had to believe.

  “Orders?” he said and laughed. “You and Cain missed the memo about taking human lovers, right?”