Angel Bonds

by Lexi C. Foss

  “Yes, and also explains why he referred to her as his granddaughter.”

  “True.” He observed Issac for a long moment. “What has you concerned, son? Aside from her night terrors, I mean.”

  Concerned wasn’t the right word. More a predicament that Issac first thought to be a coincidence or a side effect of some kind. Now that it’d festered, he knew it had to be related in some manner. “There is something else,” he admitted softly. “Something I’ve not told anyone yet.”

  Aidan stretched his arm out along the back of the sofa, hooking one ankle over his opposite knee. “You can tell me anything, Issac. Always.”

  He knew that. He trusted Aidan implicitly, which was why he sought him out. Not just for his knowledge and experience, but for his infallible loyalty. Issac lost his birth father at a young age and grew up with Aidan as his paternal guardian. Their bond was finalized when Aidan turned Issac into an Ichorian, and they’d been connected ever since.

  If anyone could help him discern his unique situation, it was the male beside him.

  “The last time I imbibed blood was from Aya, before the incident.” Issac waited for the shock to settle between them, but Aidan’s expression remained unchanged, his green eyes flickering with knowledge. “You already knew.” Of course he did. The man knew everything.

  “I suspected it, yes.” He drummed his fingers over the back of the couch, curiosity highlighting his features. “Why haven’t you told Stas?”

  “I don’t want to worry her.”

  He raised an expectant brow. “And?”

  Issac blew out a breath, his head falling back, his gaze on the ceiling. She was sitting right above him, beside her family, pretending to be fine while the world broke around her. “She’ll force me to feed, but I don’t require it.”

  “Tell her that.”

  “I did.” During Elizabeth and Jayson’s engagement party. “She insisted I feed anyway.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “No, I told her I was handling it.” He glanced sideways at his maker. “Not technically a lie since I don’t appear to require blood at the moment.”

  His lips quirked at the sides. “Son, if there’s one lesson I’ve learned through the ages, it’s to never lie to your woman, even technically. You need to tell her.”

  “I know, and I will, but I wondered if this has ever happened to you. Is it a result of aging, or could it be related to, well, her?”

  Aidan considered, his irises swirling with ancient history as he peered inward, sifting through thousands of years of experience. He remembered everything, just like Lucian, which was why everyone considered them to be omniscient. They lived through so much, cataloged every detail, and could process all that information in a flash. The avalanche of thoughts would crush most minds, but they withstood it with ease.

  “The longest I’ve ever gone without blood is three weeks,” Aidan murmured, the memory written into his visage. “But I’ve known Osiris to administer punishments with longer sentences. Most weaken after two or three weeks, the side effects increasing afterward by the day until they’re rendered almost mindless with need.”

  “What’s the longest sentence he’s given?”

  “A decade, but he gave the Ichorian blood every month to bring him back from insanity, just to drive him over the edge again.” He cut him a look. “Osiris favors mental games, as you know.”

  “Yes.” And that he administered it monthly said that was the standard tipping point. “I’ve not imbibed in nearly six weeks, almost seven, and I feel stronger than ever before.”

  “Do you crave it at all?”

  Issac shook his head. “No. The only one I want to bite is Aya, and it’s not for feeding purposes.” A blunt statement, one he knew Aidan would understand.

  “And she’s the only one you’ve fed from in the last several months?”

  “There’s not been another since the moment I first tasted her in June, no. She’s all I want.”

  Aidan smiled. “You wear monogamy well, just as your mother once did.” He disappeared into his mind again, his eyes grinning through the memories. “She would be proud of you, the man you’ve become. She would approve of Stas as well.”

  “My mother wanted me to marry a female of title,” Issac reminded him, grinning as images of his mother’s lectures rolled through his mind. “She was obsessed with that Earl of Dangerfield’s daughter—Lilliana, if memory serves.”

  Aidan chuckled. “I do remember that. She fancied you for monogamy at such a young age.”

  “Eighteen.” He shook his head. “I protested quite a bit.”

  “You did. A product of your mother’s stubborn nature, I believe.” He sighed, his heart heavy in his eyes. “Still, title or not, she would approve of your Stas. If anything, because of the way she makes you smile. All your mother ever wanted was your happiness, son. Amelia’s, too. And mine.” Sadness colored that final word, his emotions high whenever they spoke of Issac’s mother.

  “You still miss her,” he murmured, recalling their fondness for one another. Aidan had tried to convince her to accept immortality, but she steadfastly refused despite both her children joining the immortal ranks.

  “Every day,” Aidan replied softly. “And she would tell you to talk to Stas.”

  Issac chuckled. “Yes, she would.” And he intended to, but he wanted more information first. Worrying her when she already had so many other concerns in her life seemed cruel. This was a burden he could bear for her, especially as it pertained to himself. “Do you have any idea what has caused this?”

  “I have several theories, all of which will require blood samples to test.” He glanced at the windows, noting the bonfire outside where the Hydraians were gathered. Tristan, too. “I’ll need to discuss it with Lucian.”

  “Of course.” He already assumed the Hydraian King would need to be involved. “I would like you both to be discreet.”

  Aidan nodded. “Agreed. But Astasiya will need to be included as well.”

  “I know.” He finished his drink. “I’ll talk to her.” Just after the holidays were finished. She needed to focus on her family right now. Not to mention Ezekiel’s impending visit. “But you think it’s related?”

  “To her night terrors and the possibility that someone altered her memories? Absolutely. Nothing about her has ever been normal—not her ability to compel prior to resurrection or her protective rune. That her blood also appears to have sustained you long-term, or at least for now, has to be connected. It’s the only possible conclusion.”

  “What are some of your theories as to the cause?”

  “That her birthright isn’t a standard one,” he replied without hesitation. “The Seraphim are thought to be extinct, but that rune on her back proves otherwise. And I suspect we’ll be seeing them again very soon with Elizabeth’s altered genetics and Stas’s abnormal abilities.”

  Issac frowned. “You think Astasiya might be related to a Seraphim?”

  “Yes.” His fathomless green eyes fell back to Issac. “Yes, I do.”

  “What would that mean?”

  “That, my son, is what I would love to understand myself.” He took on that faraway gleam, his mind working through the puzzle pieces before Issac’s eyes.

  “You’ve suspected this for a while,” he realized. “And never thought to mention it?”

  “My suspicions are young and undeveloped.” Aidan refocused, blinked. “You know I prefer concrete facts to speculation. But yes, I have considered this avenue several times since you showed me the rune on her back. She’s clearly marked for protection, and from my experience, Seraphim never do anything without purpose.”

  Issac set his empty glass on the table, his thoughts spiraling, hope lingering in his chest.

  If Astasiya was part Seraphim, what did that mean for their future? Could he be with her completely and not worry about biting her?

  “What all do you know about Seraphim?” he asked, his heart desperate for details.
>
  “Not very much,” Aidan admitted. “I’ve only met a few in my lifetime, and they weren’t the chatty sort. Very stoic beings who only operate with a purpose. And they tend to disappear before you can ask them anything.”

  Issac pondered deeper, another thought occurring to him—one he’d considered after Astasiya mentioned some of her mother’s attributes. “Could Aya’s birth mother be a Seraphim?”

  Aidan chuckled. “I suppose if anyone could seduce one, it’d be Sethios, but I highly doubt the relation is that close. It’s more like that whatever technology Osiris and Jonathan used to create Elizabeth was also applied to Stas in some form.”

  “Then why bother with a rune? Why protect her?”

  “To hide her from Osiris,” Aidan replied. “Sethios and Osiris have a notoriously unpredictable relationship. Some believe they’re battling each other for power, while others consider them strong allies. My theory is Sethios created Stas without Osiris’s knowledge and hypnotized a Seraphim into marking her with the protective rune.”

  A plausible hypothesis, but… “Where the hell would he find one to hypnotize?”

  “Likely from the same source they’re pulling genetics from for the CRF’s testing.”

  Issac considered that, his mind blown by the possibility. “So you think Astasiya might be a lab experiment of some kind.”

  He nodded. “One Sethios created himself, yes.”

  That didn’t add up in Issac’s head, not with everything he knew. “Aya speaks of her birth parents with such love.”

  “Which may also be the case, but as you already pointed out, her memories have been altered. What’s truth from fiction?”

  Issac sighed, his palm sliding over his face. “What a bloody fucking puzzle.”

  “Indeed.” Aidan grabbed his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “But we’ll solve it together.”

  He nodded slowly, trusting his mentor implicitly. “I hope so.”

  “We will,” Aidan promised. “And in the meantime, talk to her.”

  Issac chuckled at the not-so-subtle order. “I always do.” More than any other female in his existence. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime.” He released Issac’s shoulder. “Now, shall we join them upstairs? Help you continue winning over that father of hers?”

  “You heard about earlier?”

  His eyes beamed. “I did, and from what I hear, you handled him well.”

  He shrugged. “Just gave him the truth.”

  “No, you showed how much you love his daughter, and she displayed her affection for you in return.” He stood, his expression softening. “All a father ever really wants for his children is to see them happy. It’s the greatest gift in the world.” He gestured to the stairs. “Show them how much you adore her, Issac, and they will be forever grateful. Trust me.”

  10

  Stas

  Susan Davenport had fallen head over heels for Issac Wakefield, much to Henry Davenport’s chagrin.

  Stas watched the three of them interact, a warmth entering her chest that trickled into her veins. She’d worried a little about what her parents would think of him, but he’d won them both over in the last twenty-four hours.

  They were all seated around the fire, enjoying a variety of drinks, appetizers, and discussion. The perfect Christmas Eve, aside from the guest they were all waiting for to arrive.

  Jayson had Lizzie at his side in the oversized chair. She’d insisted on staying, saying if Ezekiel wanted to harm her, he wouldn’t have scheduled an appointment to do it. A fair statement that no one could argue, but the assassin was known for his games.

  And he’d killed Stas’s parents.

  Maybe.

  Her mind kept showing her images that suggested her memories weren’t fully accurate. But he was there that day. She knew that in her gut.

  Issac glanced over his shoulder, his blue eyes glittering in the firelight. She left the wall to join him on the couch and rested her head against his shoulder.

  “Are you all right?” he whispered.

  She nodded. “Just waiting.” For Ezekiel. They’d told her parents that Jayson was expecting an old friend to stop by, something that had more than surprised her mother. Kalispell wasn’t necessarily a common place for passing visitors. Tom had intervened then, lacing his words in truth, convincing her parents that it was entirely normal and expected. He stood against the wall Stas had just left, his arms folded, expression alert.

  Amelia was with Lucian and Balthazar in the kitchen, something about helping with a gift. And Tristan sat beside Aidan.

  She met the former’s forest-green gaze. He’d avoided her the last two days since the words he exchanged with Issac outside. They didn’t seem to be speaking to each other, either. While she wasn’t particularly fond of Tristan, she didn’t want to be the source of contention between them.

  They were best friends. Why, she had no idea, but she respected Issac’s choice.

  Tristan arched a brow, his face handsomely arrogant. She could see why women found him attractive. Too bad he frequently ruined the appeal by opening his mouth.

  And here she always thought an Irish accent was sexy.

  Not on him.

  His gaze narrowed as if sensing the direction of her thoughts, probably because she’d displayed them through her eyes. Issac brushed his lips against her temple. “He’s behaving, Aya,” he said softly for her ears alone. Tristan would still hear them, his gift being the ability to manipulate sound. The knowing glint in his green depths confirmed it.

  “I know,” she murmured. “And I appreciate it.”

  The Ichorian scowled. “It’s not for you.”

  “What isn’t?” Aidan asked, feigning interest for the benefit of her parents, who overheard the comment.

  “Nothing,” Tristan replied, pushing away from the couch and leaving the room.

  Stas sighed. She hadn’t meant to upset him.

  “If you’ll excuse me for just a moment,” Issac murmured, following his friend.

  Her mother watched him go, admiration shining in her eyes. “That man really loves you,” she said wistfully. “Do you remember loving me like that, Henry?”

  He gave her a playful look. “Once upon a time, before my wife asked me silly questions, yes. Yes, I did.”

  Aidan chuckled. “Love never fades; it merely evolves and strengthens. That’s what makes the bond so special. No two loves are alike.”

  Her mother gazed affectionately at Aidan. “That’s very wise.”

  “Just speaking from years of observation,” he replied.

  Henry gave him a doubtful look. “You’re not even forty yet, right?”

  Tom covered a laugh with a cough, causing Stas to grin.

  “Looks can be deceiving” was all Aidan said, his focus shifting to the foyer. “I believe your friend is here, Jayson.”

  Stas’s spine stiffened, the energy shifting in the room as Issac and Tristan returned with Ezekiel between them carrying what appeared to be a recently stripped tree that was a foot taller than the rest of the males in the room.

  “A proper Yule log,” Aidan said, his lips quirked upward. “Perhaps you should take that out onto the deck, Ezekiel? The boys can help you cut it.”

  “I miss proper fireplaces,” the assassin grumbled, causing Aidan to chuckle.

  “Some would argue the upgrades are more efficient.”

  “Not me.”

  “No, likely not,” Aidan agreed.

  Stas’s parents observed the exchange with confusion, unable to see the dark-haired Ichorian behind the oversized log he was holding.

  “This way,” Issac said, leading Ezekiel to the glass balcony doors with Tristan at his side. That must have been why Tristan left abruptly moments ago—he’d either heard or sensed Ezekiel and told Issac with a vision. Even angry, he still protected his Sire, proving loyalty outweighed all emotions between them.

  “Did I hear Ezekiel?” Balthazar asked, joining them in the main room and catching t
he tail end of the log going through the door. “Oh, that looks fun.” He took off after them, his excitement palpable.

  “Perhaps I should join them as well,” Jayson murmured, standing. “He is my friend, after all.” The latter was said through his teeth as he forced his mouth to smile.

  Stas knew what they were doing. A four-on-one discussion meant to ensure Ezekiel was unarmed and aware of the mortals in attendance.

  Tom watched them through the glass, his dark eyes harboring the soul of a true soldier. His job was to protect the living area. Stas and Aidan would help him.

  But all Ezekiel did was laugh outside and help the men chop up the tree into smaller pieces for the fireplace. His presence didn’t chill her like it once did, her mind no longer convinced of his guilt.

  He caught her gaze through the glass and held it, those eerie black eyes flecked with gold filled with knowledge and secrets.

  So old.

  Just like Aidan, but more lived somehow.

  And sad.

  Such intrinsic pain swam in those cruel depths, hidden behind a mask of nonchalance. Just for a moment he allowed her a glimpse, the truth awakening between them and snapped away with a blink.

  Her heart hurt from that brief look into his tortured soul.

  The assassin she’d met was so carefree in an almost terrifying way. But the male who stared back at her just then possessed a history of agony, underlined in apology.

  She’d seen that expression once before.

  On him.

  Years and years ago.

  The memory teased the edges of her mind, refusing to elaborate. But she knew that face. Those eyes. Haunting pain swirling in gold and black.

  How do I—

  “Stas?” Her mother’s voice drew her back. “Are you all right?”

  “Hmm?” She blinked a few times, focusing on her mother’s concerned features. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, I was lost in thought.”

  “Issac does that to her often,” Tom remarked, helping her cover. “Constantly daydreaming.”