Angel Bonds

by Lexi C. Foss

  “Immortals still feel the cold,” she said. “Good to know.”

  Issac chuckled, his fingers lacing with hers. “Oh, I believe immortals feel things more intensely.” He tugged her to his side, his gaze suggestive. “Shall we start the tour with our bedroom?”

  “I can’t believe you bought a lodge.”

  “I imagine you’ll want to visit Susan and Henry as much as possible over the next few years,” he said quietly as they walked toward the gorgeous home. “Before they realize you’ve stopped aging.”

  Her heart stuttered with the words, her feet missing a step. She hadn’t really thought that far ahead, despite it being the logical path.

  “They can’t know,” Issac added softly.

  “I know,” she managed, her throat suddenly dry. “I just…”

  “Hadn’t considered it,” he murmured. “I know. But I did, and I wanted you to have a place nearby that would be safe for them to visit.”

  Because the CRF was monitoring her home and her parents. “Has Mateo said anything?” she wondered, needing to change the subject to something safer. Such as her parents’ pending arrival. Issac had tasked his technologically gifted progeny with the project of helping her parents leave without a tail.

  “His last message said he managed to send the Sentinels watching your parents on a false mission north by altering the tracking device on Henry’s car. And as far as surveillance goes, he hasn’t seen anyone following them.”

  “Good.” The last thing they needed was the CRF crashing the party. They had enough intruders already.

  And two of those intruders were waiting for them in the doorway.

  Tom at least wore an apologetic expression.

  Jayson, however, did not.

  The strong aroma of freshly baked cookies identified Lizzie’s position in the kitchen. Even pregnant, the woman was still constantly cooking.

  God, my parents are going to lose their ever-loving shit over all of this.

  “Beer?” Tom offered, the question for Stas.

  “Yes, please.” She needed as much alcohol as possible, to… Her hand dropped halfway to the bottle. Is that…? “Oh, hell no. Issac, he can’t meet my parents.” She pointed at the smirking Ichorian lurking in the foyer.

  “I believe I joined Issac’s family long before you came along, little pet,” Tristan replied, snagging the beer Tom had meant for her and taking a long swig. “Thanks, Thomas.” He gave a salute and wandered off down the hall, leaving them all in the entryway.

  “This can’t—”

  “I’ll talk to him, Aya,” Issac murmured. “It will all be fine. I promise.”

  She lifted her brows. “Fine?”

  “He won’t bite your parents,” Issac promised. “Let’s just go inside and take a look around, see how the living arrangements have been sorted, and go from there.”

  “Amelia made sure you have the master suite,” Tom informed them. “Stas’s parents will be in the basement bedroom suite, away from everyone else, with their own kitchen and exit onto the patio.”

  “Brilliant.” Issac pushed Stas forward with a hand against her lower back. “We’ll start downstairs so Aya can see that Susan and Henry will be safe and sound.”

  “In a house full of immortals, some of whom have a penchant for biting mortals,” she added dryly. “Sure. Safe.”

  “They’ll have a lock on their door,” Issac said, guiding her into the main sitting area and toward a set of oversized stairs. Tristan was lounging on the couch, his sharp green eyes on the enormous Christmas tree by the windows and the Ichorian stringing lights around it. “Hello, Aidan.”

  “Issac,” he greeted, a fond smile curling his lips as he glanced over his shoulder. “Lovely property investment, as always.”

  “I’m glad you approve.” Issac eyed the male he considered his father with interest and arched a dark brow in silent question. He probably wanted to know why Aidan’s hands were tangled up in cords. Stas wouldn’t mind an answer as well. Given everything she knew about the ancient Ichorian, this seemed rather out of character for him.

  And where is his harem? He rarely went anywhere without his beautiful trio, but perhaps he’d left them behind on Hydria, where they all were living now thanks to the fallout with Osiris—Stas’s supposed grandfather.

  “Amelia asked me to decorate the tree,” Aidan explained. The words appeared to possess a hidden meaning, enough so that Issac paused at the top of the stairs.

  “She did?” he asked, his sapphire eyes sparkling.

  “Yes. She requested a festive atmosphere.”

  “And where is my sister?”

  “Upstairs wrapping gifts,” Tom replied. “She said anyone who disturbs her will be stabbed with her scissors.”

  Issac and Aidan both glanced at the blond male dressed in jeans and a sweater, nursing his beer. Too bad he hadn’t procured another for Stas. She narrowed her gaze at the beer-stealing Ichorian on the couch who saluted her with the bottle.

  Asshole.

  Aidan held Issac’s gaze, conveying some sort of unspoken message. “It almost reminds me of a former life, minus the life threat.”

  “Indeed,” Issac murmured. “Can you have Jacque find me when you see him next?”

  Aidan smiled, an understanding passing between them. “Of course.”

  “Cheers,” he replied. “We’ll just be downstairs a bit.”

  Stas waited until they were out of earshot before whispering, “What was all that about?”

  “Amelia used to love the holidays,” he replied just as softly. “Before, well, everything.”

  “Oh.” Stas never met the old version of Amelia but had heard stories about her love for hosting parties and celebrating with family. Being held hostage in the CRF’s basement for a few years had changed her irrevocably. “Aidan’s surprised she’s being festive.”

  “Yes,” Issac confirmed, his hand finding Stas’s again and giving her a gentle squeeze. “I am, too.”

  “It’s why everyone’s insisting on being here with us.” Balthazar and Luc obviously enjoyed crashing their holiday plans, but their motives went so much deeper than a little fun and games. They wanted to give Amelia back a piece of her old self, to celebrate the way they used to.

  To be a family for the holidays.

  “All right,” Stas murmured, turning to her demon and wrapping her arms around his neck. “My parents are going to be overwhelmed, but we’ll figure it out. And”—she glanced around the spacious lower level—“I don’t think they’ll be able to complain about their accommodations.”

  His lips curled. “So you approve of my investment?”

  She took in the windows overlooking the ground patio and lake, the giant fireplace between the empty bookshelves, the comfortable furniture, and the door she assumed led to the downstairs bedroom Tom had referenced. “I mean, it’s all right. Could use some sprucing up.”

  He chuckled against her neck, his lips dangerously close to her pulse. “Are you offering to be my personal interior decorator?”

  “Depends on how well it pays, job perks—you know, the important stuff.”

  “How about partial ownership?”

  She froze. “What?”

  He nibbled her earlobe gently, careful not to break the skin. They’d been growing more and more daring with each other over the last month, almost to the point of danger. One bite, one drop of her blood, and he would die.

  But sometimes it seemed he didn’t care.

  “You can’t be serious,” she said, pulling back to study his expression.

  Mirth danced in his gaze. “Any other woman would be over the moon, but of course, you balk at the idea of it.”

  “Tell me you’re not serious,” she demanded.

  “I’m not serious,” he replied. “Which I only said because you forced me to.”

  Damn it. Sometimes having the ability to compel someone backfired immensely. “Issac—”

  He pressed his finger to her lips. “You can yell
at me later. Lucian just showed me an image of Henry’s car pulling into the drive. I suggest we greet them before the others do, yes?”

  “This conversation isn’t over.”

  “Definitely not,” he agreed, his sapphire gaze glimmering. “You know how I adore our negotiations, Aya.” He brushed his mouth over hers, silencing her retort. “Parents, love.”

  Right, time to celebrate the holidays.

  With her human parents and her billionaire Ichorian boyfriend.

  Oh, and a lodge full of a bunch of crazy, ancient immortals.

  Yeah, what could possibly go wrong?

  3

  Issac

  Susan Davenport appeared ready to faint. Henry didn’t look much better himself, his expression flickering between astonishment and concern.

  Astasiya stood between them for the introductions, her green eyes meeting Issac’s on several occasions, as if she craved his strength.

  Balthazar laid on the charm.

  Lucian remained cool and collected like his father, Aidan.

  Amelia was warm, but not overly so.

  Thomas and Elizabeth were already familiar with the Davenports, and Thomas worked his magic perfectly with his cover story.

  Jayson gave Henry a strong handshake that seemed to intimidate the shorter, lankier human.

  And Tristan merely smiled, his distaste for consorting so closely with mortals barely concealed.

  Issac’s phone buzzed, the incoming message from Mateo. All clear.

  Brilliant, he typed back. Part of the reason he’d chosen Kalispell over visiting the Davenports’ home was the CRF surveillance issue. As fun as it would be to kill a few Sentinels, Issac wanted Astasiya to enjoy the holiday. And she would be uneasy if blood were on their hands.

  He made sure she saw him check the phone before giving a subtle nod, confirming they were safe. Her responding grin warmed his heart. She’d been concerned about seeing her family so close to home, but Issac knew how much it meant to her. While Susan and Henry weren’t her real parents, they were the ones who raised her from seven years old onward, and she very much considered them her mother and father.

  As such, he did, too.

  Which meant he needed to turn Henry Davenport’s opinion of him around because right now the male was thinking about clever ways to shoot Issac. Of course, he also imagined Balthazar’s demise after he kissed Susan’s hand—an image Issac quite enjoyed.

  “This is a lovely rental, Issac,” Susan murmured, admiring the living area of the main floor.

  “Thank you.” He didn’t bother to correct her assumption regarding the so-called rental. Astasiya could correct her later once he informed her of the ownership agreement, a conversation that would likely infuriate his favorite blonde.

  He couldn’t wait to see her expression when he admitted that the home was in an alias he created for her, not one of his own. She needed to learn more about investments anyway. This would be her introduction to the game. What she did with the proceeds would be her choice; he would guide her only if she asked.

  “We should probably get everyone settled,” Elizabeth said, her brown eyes dancing nervously between the Davenports and everyone else. The blue dress she wore only barely covered her bump—an oddity considering she was only seven or eight weeks pregnant. Her Seraphim-altered genetics and Jayson’s Hydraian genes made the outcome unpredictable, something Lucian and Balthazar were monitoring carefully.

  But she seemed fine, if a little tired.

  “Yes, Tristan, will you help me with the bags?” Issac gave him a pointed look, conveying that it was not a request but a demand.

  His old friend sighed. “I’d be delighted,” he deadpanned.

  “Oh, that’s not necessary.” Susan looked at her husband, her eyes telling him to speak up.

  “I insist,” Issac replied before Henry could respond. “Astasiya can show you to your room.” He’d gestured to the quarters earlier, before making their way back upstairs to meet her parents.

  Tristan led the way, his shoulders stiff. Issac almost slapped him on the back just to loosen the bastard up but decided words would be better suited.

  “Do I need to warn you away from the Davenports?” he asked seriously as they exited the home. “Or can I trust you to behave?”

  His green eyes flashed. “So I’m a child now, am I?”

  “You certainly treat Aya like a jealous sibling, yes.”

  He snorted. “That would imply we’re equals, which we’re not.”

  “No, you’re not.” Issac opened Henry’s trunk and slammed a bag against Tristan’s chest. “Astasiya could easily kick your ass if she wanted to, so you might want to show her some more respect.”

  He scoffed at that. “I’d enjoy watching her try.”

  “Oh, Tristan, so would I.” Because Astasiya would flatten his arrogant ass in a second. Issac lifted another suitcase and set it on the ground before leveling his friend with a look. “Susan and Henry don’t know anything about our lives, and we need to keep it that way. Surely you remember your final years with your family, because I do.”

  Issac had been patient while Tristan said his goodbyes, had consoled him when his parents died a decade later—alone, wondering where their prodigal son had gone.

  “None of this is easy on her,” he added. “She’s trying very hard to pretend it doesn’t bother her, that her world hasn’t completely changed overnight—”

  “Because of a decision she made,” Tristan interjected with a growl that echoed inside of Issac.

  As if he didn’t know that.

  As if he didn’t think about it every goddamned day since Astasiya ran off to Bora Bora to save her best friend without thinking about her own future—their future.

  “You have a right to be angry,” Tristan continued, his shoulders tense, his gaze narrowed as he dropped the suitcase. “That woman puts your life in danger every day that you remain with her, and you just expect me to accept that. I won’t, Issac. I refuse. And you can’t ask me to.”

  He swallowed, his hands fisting at his sides.

  “Hit me if you need to. I’ll take it. But deep down, you know I’m right.” Tristan punctuated his words with a sharp poke against his chest, his Irish lilt intensifying with each word. “You’re giving up everything for her, maybe even your own life, and I cannot—will not—stand by and watch it happen.”

  “Then why are you here?” Issac asked through his teeth. “Why bother spending the holidays with us when you hate her so damn much?”

  “Because you’re my family and I worry every day that it might be my last with you. So yeah, I’m going to be here, and I’m going to watch you continue to sacrifice your own fucking happiness for a female who is nowhere near worthy of you. I’ll do my best to steer clear of her, but do not ask me to be kind. Not when she’s a living, breathing threat to the person I care about most in this world.”

  A sharp inhale had Issac cringing.

  Astasiya stood just outside, her green eyes on a very unapologetic Tristan.

  “Aya,” Issac started, but she held out her hand.

  “I just came to tell you my parents are downstairs for whenever you want to bring them their bags.” She turned before he could reply, disappearing back into the house.

  “You’re an ass,” Issac hissed.

  “She knows the truth just as well as I do. The difference is, I’m not afraid to say it, because I actually care. She’s just a selfish bitch who—”

  Issac’s fist connected with Tristan’s jaw so hard it sent the man two paces back. “Never speak like that about her again.” It was one thing to point out the concerns of their situation, but quite another to fling a derogatory label at Aya.

  Someone started clapping, causing Issac to stiffen.

  Everyone was in the house.

  And the source of the sound was coming from the driveway.

  Behind them.

  He turned slowly to find Ezekiel leaning against the garage in his trademark leather jack
et and jeans. “Nice form, Wakefield. Who knew you had it in you?” He applauded again, his legs casually crossed at the ankles. “Now, someone mentioned a holiday party, and I’m positively famished. Care to invite a lonely assassin in for dinner?”

  4

  Issac

  A blade whirled through the air, landing in Ezekiel’s hand as he caught it by the sharp side. He eyed the metal, balanced it against his fingers, and smiled.

  “Beautiful craftsmanship as always, Jedrick.” He slid the knife into a pocket inside his jacket. “Perfect holiday gift. Unfortunately, I didn’t get you anything.”

  “Oh, I have the perfect gift in mind,” Jayson replied as he approached, Balthazar behind him. The mind reader must have heard Issac’s mental curse at their unexpected guest’s arrival.

  “Do you?” The assassin looked positively delighted. “I’m all ears.”

  “Leave,” Jayson growled.

  “For a friendship as old as ours? That seems quite sad in terms of a gift.” Ezekiel tapped his chin. “I know. How about you invite me in for dinner in exchange for some information you may find useful?”

  “The last time you provided us with information didn’t exactly work out in a positive manner,” Balthazar replied dryly, no doubt thinking about how Osiris had forced Alik to use his torturing gifts against them all.

  “Oh?” Ezekiel arched a brow. “See, now, as I remember it, Lizzie was returned safely and no one died. Oh, and Stas learned something very important about herself. A secret that’s been kept hidden for nearly twenty-five years. Next week, actually.” His dark eyes actually creased, his lips curling fondly. “That was a good month.”

  “Why are you here, Ezekiel?” Jayson demanded, taking the words right out of Issac’s mouth.

  “Why, to celebrate the holidays, of course. I mean, that’s why you all crashed Issac and Stas’s plans with the Davenports, right?”

  A chill drafted down Issac’s spine. “You’ve been watching Astasiya.”