Angel Lover

by Tricia Skinner

  “Will you await me outside?” Rahab asked, but his tone was all command.

  For a moment, they fell into a staring match. Taking orders from him soured Kas’s stomach, but he walked past the two angels and out the door until grass cushioned his boots. He didn’t need to be in earshot to know what was being discussed. Mariel would fill his sire in on what happened with the team. The drama should please the bastard. It would take every deception possible to convince the Renegades he was legit.

  God of All, was this real? In his heart, he was still part of the Bound; he still worked for Heaven. But if he messed this up, he’d have hell to pay, even if he did learn how to break the binding on their Grace.

  Footsteps crunched the loose-pebbled walkway. He waited until Rahab stood a few feet away. The angel stared as if Kas was a particularly strange form of life.

  “I would be foolish to accept only Mariel’s word of your capitulation.” Black wings shifted. “Tell me, why you have accepted our offer? And dare not lie, Kasdeja, for I will know.”

  Had Tanis been here, his lie-detection capability would cause a tremor of panic. Since Rahab had never owned that talent, Kas settled on a semi truth.

  “I will be free. I’ve wanted it since the day the Directorate destroyed the village.” He took a step forward. “No one has the right to hold me against my will.”

  Rahab’s eyes slitted, but his lips curled up. “Yes, but you are not easily tamed. Your mother thought otherwise.”

  Kas surged forward and fisted his sire’s shirt, teeth clenched. “Don’t ever speak of her. You don’t deserve the right.”

  He shoved, and Rahab stumbled back.

  Aria had been the most kind, most generous of women. Other children in their community would sit outside their home near the olive trees she’d planted and listen to his mother recite stories. Her voice had captivated everyone, including him.

  His mother. Warmth to his sire’s frost. Joy to misery. Humane to cruel.

  After his capture, he’d learned many wives of the Renegades were allowed to live. The Directorate had seen them as concubines, not threats. Aria could have survived and found happiness with a simple farmer or carpenter, but she’d chosen death rather than face a day without the husband who’d abandoned her.

  “I see the hatred you hold for me,” Rahab said, his expression tight. “Keep it for now. If it makes you the man we need, I care not.”

  “You care about nothing but yourself, asshole.” Kas hardened his voice and gestured between them. “This is a business arrangement. Bad fucking luck made me your blood, and I can’t change that fact, but don’t think there’s an ounce of father-son anything you can exploit. You and me? We don’t have shit.”

  “Yet I have allowed only my son to speak to me so.” His sire gazed past him. “I wish not to spend my days in verbal battle. I cannot undo the past, but perhaps our future need not be so uncivil.”

  A violent tremor punched through Kas’s body as he struggled to wrap his brain around the comment. The only future he wanted sure as sin didn’t include his sire.

  Rahab chuckled, a noise about as natural as a toad busting out in song. The Renegade passed him, a wing brushing his elbow. “We will eat and talk. Some of my brethren wish to see you.”

  Awesome. Kas loved the idea of enemy angels eyeballing him. Not.

  He glanced at Mariel’s house, where a low glow lit the interior. She didn’t peek from behind the window shades or watch from the short front porch. What did she care? Her job was probably finished. He turned away and followed his sire.

  They traveled the path until the gravel gave way to flagstone. The mansion’s interior lived up to its stature. Travertine tiles covered the floor. Marble columns and statues straight out of a museum marked the walls and hallways. He refused to acknowledge the chic, respectable air the place gave off, but under the domed glass ceiling, old-fashioned fallen angels had made the place a home.

  The dining room nearly sucked a gasp from his lungs. An enormous wooden table commanded attention. The thing had to seat over thirty people. Kas memorized everything in sight. If that many Renegades lived in one place, the Directorate would have an aneurysm. How in hell did they stay so well hidden with those numbers?

  “Sit.” Rahab waved a hand at the first low-back chair at the table. He pulled out the one opposite, positioning his wings so they rested easily between him and the chair.

  Kas sat and hooked his arm over the back of his seat. Five crystal chandeliers blazed with electric light, banishing the room’s few shadows. There was nowhere to hide if anyone was inclined to snoop on the conversation.

  The enemy had money, and lots of it. They’d need a bank to keep their operation going, greasing criminal palms to take care of the jobs the group was too high-and-mighty to deal with themselves.

  “How much this mansion set you back?” he asked as he continued to memorize the room’s contents.

  “The previous owner was quite generous after we showed an interest,” came the cryptic reply.

  “I bet. They find his body yet?”

  His sire gave him a snake charmer smile, which was answer enough. Before Kas could shoot a tart response, the dining hall’s door opened and his attention turned to the unexpected guest.

  Mariel entered wearing a short dress with a broad satin band wrapped under her breasts. For the first time, he saw her bare, lean legs, as golden and smooth as he’d fantasized. Around her left wrist she wore a silver spiral bracelet that complemented the matching looped necklace against her neck. No makeup ruined her clear skin.

  “A lovely vision, is she not?” Rahab said, adjusting a linen napkin over his lap. “Come and sit next to me.”

  The light tap of heels filled the air, but to Kas the sound was his doom. He’d thought she was beautiful before. Now, she could make men weep. When their gazes locked, Mariel quickly swallowed and then lowered her lashes.

  “Proceed,” his sire said.

  The French doors on the other side of the room opened and three angels, clearly soldiers from their stick-in-the-ass movements, entered. Kas’s hands flew to his guns.

  His sire grinned. “I do not believe the meal will require an assassination. Our chef is quite skilled.” He arched an eyebrow. “Of course, should you disagree, no one will stop you from killing him.”

  “That right?” Kas stole a peek at Mariel, whose eyes would not meet his, and then put the weapons away, sorry for the poor cook.

  “He is only a human. Worthless, if not for his culinary skills.”

  God of All, his sire was such a prick. Kas glowered at him until several human attendants walked in, each carrying a tray. The aroma of meat, fish, vegetables, and something so divine he couldn’t place it overwhelmed his senses. His mouth actually watered, and his stomach released an embarrassing growl. Another chuckle, but his sire didn’t remark on the sound.

  Each tray was carefully placed on the table between his sire, Mariel, and him. The other angels kept their distance, having taken up guardian positions across from him at the table, but he caught their cold, curious looks. This had to be the welcoming party, here to ensure he didn’t ram a dagger down his sire’s throat.

  Points to his old man for thinking ahead, but no one was that fast. Inwardly, Kas grinned.

  The mystery dish turned out to be a soufflé. The light, flaky dessert was placed at the far end of the long row of food. Whoever the chef was, he produced tantalizing sweets.

  “Help yourself. We will talk as we sup.”

  Rahab placed pieces of fish and meat on Mariel’s plate. She murmured a thank-you but didn’t dig in. The Renegade added food to his own plate.

  The act was so American-family normal that Kas was momentarily lost watching. He was sharing food with his sire.

  “Do you not like the meal?” Mariel suddenly asked.

  It took a moment to realize she’d spoken to him. Kas cleared his mind and shoveled food onto his plate. If he wanted to gain his sire’s trust, he had to act like
he was on board. He scooped up the butter-soft potatoes au gratin and willed his mouth to accept the fork. Chewing was laborious. Swallowing, a trial. Finally, his knife and fork scraped an empty plate. Back at the Stronghold, Tanis and his brothers would be scanning the city for any clue to his whereabouts.

  He peered at the two angels sitting across from him. Still working on their meals. He shrugged at the four raised brows. “High metabolism.”

  Rahab threw back his head and laughed. Rich and deep, the sound was foreign to Kas’s memories. His sire had never laughed, had never so much as smiled in his presence.

  “Continue eating.” The Renegade’s plate contained most of the food he’d placed on it.

  His sire picked up the tray and found a spot in front of Kas. “We do not deny ourselves the pleasure of food, but being half human, you probably have other pleasures to feed.”

  Mariel’s knife screeched across the fine porcelain.

  “Nah. I’m cool.” Kas’s eyes strayed to the woman across from him. “After dessert.”

  Her head jerked up, and they locked gazes again. He focused on the lips she now worried between her teeth. Christ’s blood, the urge to jump over the table and snatch her into his arms for a blistering kiss shot straight to his balls. He pulled the plate of soufflé closer and took a piece.

  “Yes, food is one of the few diversions we allow ourselves,” Rahab said, studying Kas’s face. “The primary objective—the complete destruction of our enemies—nourishes us far better.”

  “No offense, but I count maybe thirty seats here. If that’s the size of your army, you’d better have some serious hardware at your disposal. Hell, a black hole might help. Just suck the Directorate into a void and you’re good to go.”

  Mariel coughed and quickly reached for her water glass.

  He removed the fork from his mouth, focused on the anger in his sire’s eyes. In his periphery, the other Renegades tensed.

  “Our numbers in this city are not all we have, Kasdeja.” Rahab dabbed the napkin to his lips. “Though no longer legion, our organization remains vast.”

  So, they did have an army somewhere to send against Heaven.

  “This area was chosen because the Bound are here.” A calculating glint returned to his sire’s eyes. “The Directorate erred in keeping you alive. In you, we have found the key to their final days.”

  A hush, except the sounds of breathing, descended over everything. Kas swallowed and leaned back in his chair. His fingers twitched, eager to pull his Desert Eagles and blow the fuck out of there.

  “The Bound each have unique talents,” Rahab continued. “Each contains a mutant signature in your genetic makeup.”

  Kas blinked twice. Say what?

  “Mind reading is rare, Kasdeja. So is shielding, certain types of mind control, and sonic resonance.”

  Jarrid, Cain, and Nesty had those gifts. His chest rose and fell in time to his racing pulse. “So we need our own action hero movie. Big deal.”

  Rahab smirked, all self-righteous and shit. “Four Nephilim were allowed to live while thousands were murdered. Four who contained rare strains of Grace. Four taken to Heaven, raised and trained by angel warriors, and returned to Earth in servitude.”

  There was something more here, but he still didn’t understand what his sire was digging at. He risked a look at Mariel. Her brow furrowed, her lips pressed tight. Didn’t tell you that either, huh? “Is there a point to this story?”

  “I have learned much about the others. They intrigue me. Perhaps we will not have to kill them after all.”

  Kas surged from his chair, his guns drawn, his Grace powering the fury in his veins. He extended his arms, one pointed at his sire and the other at the three Renegades who’d moved to intercept him. Mariel hadn’t flinched.

  “I’ll ice you the fuck back to Abraham if you take another step,” he growled. His gaze stared into Rahab’s. “We were marked for death. Tanis saved our lives. That’s it. No devious plot. No secondary agenda.” He leaned forward. “I’ve left the Bound, but that doesn’t mean I’ll sit on my ass if you make an attempt on them.”

  His sire leaned back and slowly clapped his hands. “Good, Kasdeja. Good. Your outburst proves your decision was a difficult one. You do not give up your loyalty easily.”

  His head throbbed from the need to pull the triggers. “I made my choice. They didn’t have one. I’m here, and I’ll do what I gotta do, but stay away from them.”

  As lithe as a panther, his sire rose from his chair and rested his fists on the table. “The binding was created after Heaven observed you and your brethren. Even as children, you four showed exceptional skill with your gifts. What would you be as adults? How powerful?”

  Kas’s arms did the unthinkable. They shook.

  “The Directorate wanted those powers in their service, under their control. They could not risk half-breeds running free, infecting humans through pregnancy, producing new strains of corrupted Grace. So they devised a way to neuter their new weapons, ensuring you would never reach your full potential.”

  “You’re lying,” Kas said, but his tone betrayed the doubt in his heart. He lowered his arms to his sides but kept his guns out.

  Rahab straightened and adjusted his suit jacket. “I have no need to lie to my son.”

  He pointed the muzzles up, away from Rahab’s face and from the three burly Renegades. He sneered at the bodyguards and shook his head. They wouldn’t have any trouble from him. For now. He eased the Desert Eagles into his shoulder holsters and returned his attention to his sire.

  The dinner he’d consumed teetered in his stomach, ready to make an encore, and he didn’t dare look at Mariel. He’d been served a plate of crap about the reasons he and his brothers were spared. Trouble was, he didn’t know which version of the story sounded more plausible.

  Rahab’s version of the past cast a cloud over that already dark day. How had Tanis found him? Their house was one of many similarly built structures in the village. Several Renegade families with Nephilim children shared the same patch of fertile land, yet the warrior angel had sought his.

  Then there were the stories of Nesty, Jarrid, and Cain. All had been secreted away from the destruction of their homes on the same day, by the same angel.

  …

  Mariel tried to camouflage her agitation by picking at the dessert on her half-full plate. She combed her fingers through her hair, still damp from a too-brief shower.

  Rahab was slowly but deftly seeking fissures of weakness in his son. Exploiting cracks that would make Kas more vulnerable to his plans. She was helpless to prevent it.

  Her true employer, Kaonos, would expect an update on the mission, and now that Kas had gone rogue the Directorate would need to review his threat level.

  She sneaked a look at the Nephilim. He’d made his deal and had instantly become her problem. A problem made all the more difficult because…she liked him. He was a smart-mouthed, risk-happy, unfairly bound, gorgeous, sexy half angel who’d challenged her sanity with his kisses.

  Yet feelings formed attachments. Attachments encouraged splintered loyalties. Splintered loyalties led to rebellion. Rebellion produced fallen angels. She was desperate for her wings…

  But passion? The very word defined Kas, and now she’d grown to enjoy that sentiment.

  She dared to imagine the kisses they’d shared. Kas’s mouth on hers had devoured her previous experiences with the act. Once, long ago, Xaphan had stolen a kiss after winning a difficult military simulation against other angels. The shock had been mutual, but he’d never explored the possibilities. They’d never had the chance.

  She closed off the painful memory. If Kas attempted to kiss her again, would she allow it? Despite her attraction, she would follow orders. But she craved it so.

  Kas couldn’t want his freedom as badly as she wanted her wings. Restored, Mariel could rejoin her brethren, take her place in the army, and live knowing she had given her friends peace at last. That was her goal. That was
her purpose.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Had I your gift, I would see what lay so heavy on your mind,” Rahab said.

  Kas was glad his sire couldn’t see his doubts or the need to demand answers of Tanis.

  “Your judgment of me is swift, despite what you now know,” his sire replied, hardening his gaze. “Find comfort in the Directorate’s propaganda. They had plenty of time to weave their lies.”

  “And you haven’t?”

  Rahab held his stare, but neither spoke for several moments. He wouldn’t let the abandoned boy inside him ask for an explanation. His sire couldn’t summon sympathy if it didn’t exist.

  “How’ll you remove the binding?”

  “I shall provide a demonstration of what you can achieve with us.” The Renegade strolled toward the door. “Come, Kasdeja. And you, too, Mariel.”

  The three crossed the hall and took stairs leading downward. The tunnel, which couldn’t be called anything else, forked.

  The air cooled his skin. He concentrated on the path they followed, under low-hung ceiling lights and around damp walls. Rahab’s stride didn’t falter as he hung a left. Kas checked curiously down the right passage as he passed.

  “That path leads to the storeroom,” Mariel said over her shoulder. “You will receive a proper tour in time.”

  No obvious security system was in place, at least none he could see. He would have rigged the tunnel with motion-sensing infrared cameras, laser-sighted trip wires, and electrical charges to fry an intruder.

  At last Rahab pushed through a door with large iron rivets along its edges. Kas crossed the threshold behind Mariel and instantly went on alert as the large door squealed closed behind him.

  Numerous test tubes and petri dishes covered four tables. Liquids of various colors bubbled under heaters. Several computer screens scrolled line after line of data, but a few rotated the unmistakable image of a DNA sequence. A ceiling-to-floor shelf contained doomed white rats. Then his gaze landed on the man-sized tank of fluorescent water off to the side of his sire.

  “What the hell is all this?”