by Larissa Ione
Gods, she had so many questions.
“Hi,” he said, flashing a smile that would have dropped her panties in any other situation. Not even the fangs that peeked between his full lips would have given her pause. Except, maybe, to ask why an angel would have fangs. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m not in pain, if that’s what you mean.” She opened the little bottle of orange juice and took a sip. “The doctor said you’re an angel. Was she joking?” Because angels didn’t wear ass-hugging jeans and untucked blue plaid button-downs, right? They wore robes and sandals or something.
“She wasn’t joking.”
Oh, wow. She exhaled slowly, needing a little time to gather her thoughts. Why would an angel have been in the parking lot that night, and why would he rescue her? Unless... “Are you my guardian angel?”
He moved closer, his boots silent on the gleaming black floor. “Long story, but no.” He looked down, his long bangs falling across his face and obscuring his eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from him.” He didn’t have to say who “him” was. “I failed.”
“Are you kidding me? I blasted you with silver fire. I thought you were with that bastard who abducted me.” The sound of his body hitting the lamp post reverberated in her ears as if it had happened only seconds ago. “Later, when he said you were a Good Samaritan, I was afraid I’d killed you.”
His hand came up to rub his sternum. “You put a serious hurting on me, but we angels are pretty tough.”
Apparently so. A Wytch’s silver fire weapon was so deadly they were forbidden to use it except to save their own life. She’d never heard of anyone surviving a full-body strike. But then, she’d never heard of it being used against an angel.
“How did you find me?” She frowned. “Why did you find me?”
He shoved his hand through his sandy hair, and bizarrely, she wondered what it felt like. Was it as silky as it looked? Did angels have perfect, super-soft hair? What about their wings? Would it be rude to ask?
“Another long story,” he sighed. “I just wish I’d found you sooner.”
Yeah, she wished that, too, but she wasn’t going to complain that he hadn’t saved her life sooner. That he’d saved it at all was a miracle.
“Please tell me he’s dead.” She’d never wished death on anyone, but Drayger needed to die slowly and in excruciating pain.
“I would love to tell you that,” Hawkyn said, his voice dripping with raw anger. “But I won’t let him hurt you again.”
Footsteps passed by the door, reminding her how weird this whole thing was. “Excuse me, but... You’re an angel. You brought me to a hospital full of demons? Aren’t angels and demons mortal enemies?” Hell, she should be his enemy as well.
“Well...”
She held up a hand to stop him. “Are you going to tell me it’s another long story?”
The red tinge in his cheeks said yes. “Let’s just say it’s complicated.”
“I’m sure it is.” She peeled the top slice of bread from the sandwich on her tray. Looked like ham and cheese. She liked ham. But then, this was a demon hospital... Maybe it wasn’t ham. Ew. Appetite ruined, she pushed the tray away. “What is the angelic stance on Wytches?”
“We have no problem with witches.”
“Just to be clear, it’s Wytch. With a Y.”
His eyes shot wide. “Seriously? I’ve never met one. I always thought you were mythical.” He shrugged, a slow roll of one big shoulder. She’d bet those broad shoulders carried a lot of weight, and her fingers itched to knead the tension out of them. “Of course, I always thought elves were mythical too, but last year one of the fallen angels who works for my father mated one.”
Elves? And who the hell was his father? She was about to ask who Hawkyn’s father was and why a fallen angel would be working for him when the door opened and a pretty, dark-skinned nurse entered. This one looked human, but somehow Aurora doubted that she was.
“Hi, Aurora,” she said. “I’m Shanea, and I’m going to take care of you.”
Hawkyn stood, rising to his full height, which was somewhere around six and a half feet, she guessed. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
Instinct made Aurora want to ask him to stay. She didn’t know anything about him, but he’d been there for her in the grocery store parking lot, he’d rescued her, and he’d sat at her bedside while she recovered. Right now, he was the one thing in her life that made her feel safe.
She couldn’t even call her brother because he was in some Middle East hellhole, and her parents were just two weeks into a year-long cruise around the world. No way was she going to interrupt anyone.
“Are you coming back?” Aurora asked, hoping the eagerness in her voice wasn’t as obvious to Hawkyn as it was to her. “Will I see you again?”
His smile made her pulse flutter, and it even made Shanea sigh a little. “Absolutely.”
He took off like a shot, disappearing before the door swung closed, leaving her with far more questions than answers.
But he also left her with something to look forward to, and that hadn’t happened in a long, long time.
Chapter Six
Azagoth couldn’t remember the last time he’d been nervous about anything. After all, he ruled his own realm and was one of the most powerful beings in existence.
But the thought of seeing his daughter Idess and her son, his grandchild, made him twitchy, and it had for the last few months. Ever since the day he learned the details about her past.
He hadn’t been able to even look at Idess without thinking of how she’d grown up, and how desperate she was to protect her son from life’s ugliness. Because that was what a parent did.
You didn’t know.
No, for a long time he hadn’t known how she, or any of his children grew up. Their mothers had placed them with human parents, and he didn’t see them until they were fully grown, sometimes centuries later, more often never at all. A few had shared with him their experiences of life when they’d believed they were human, and their stories were horrific.
But Azagoth hadn’t felt pity. Or sorrow. Or guilt. Before Lilliana, he’d been as cold as an arctic stone. His offspring were tough, and they’d survived. Their pasts had hardened them, turned them into the warriors they needed to be.
No, he hadn’t cared at all about their misery.
Then Lilliana came along and shattered the layer of ice that had encased his heart. It had been incredible and life-giving, but now that he’d opened his realm to all his Memitim offspring, more and more of his children were showing up and telling him about their “human” lives. With few exceptions, just one, really, their stories were full of the kind of shit that gave people nightmares.
Idess’s story in particular had been a tale of horror, slavery, and abuse that made him want to go back in time and slaughter every fucker who had messed with his baby girl.
Lilliana could make that happen. As an angel with the ability to time-travel, she could help him get bloody revenge for all his children. But doing so would mess with incalculable timelines and would earn him a death sentence from God himself. His only consolation was that a handful of the scum who had made his children’s lives miserable were, in fact, imprisoned in the Inner Sanctum, where he could torture their useless souls for all eternity.
His hands actually shook as he joined Idess and Lilliana at the picnic table in the gazebo Lilliana had built near the brook that ran behind his palace. Little Mace gave him a big grin as he sat nearby playing with building blocks. Looked like he was creating a dog. Or, more likely, a hellhound.
“Father,” Idess said, coming to her feet to greet him. Of all his offspring, only Idess would show him physical affection, and she did so now, giving him a brief hug and a peck on the cheek as she pulled away.
It made him shake harder. What the everfucking hell was wrong with him?
“Have a seat.” Lilliana, her long chestnut hair framing her ageless face, patted the bench next to her. “We wer
e just about to pour some wine and discuss ideas Idess had for bringing more Memitim to Sheoul-gra.” Reaching for the wine bottle, she gave him a playful wink. “Idess seems to think that more of them aren’t coming to live here because you’re scary.”
Lilliana’s tone was teasing, her smile bright, but the underlying truth, that his children were afraid of him, suddenly made an impact, cratering out his chest cavity like a meteor strike. He’d never cared about that in the past. Hell, he was proud of the fact that his offspring feared him. Fear...respect... It was all the same, right?
“Am I scary, Idess?” he asked, trying to sound...not scary.
Idess thrust her wine glass out at Lilliana. “Um, yes. Absolutely.”
Still standing, he glanced over at Mace, who was tasting a building block now. “And yet, you brought your child to see me.”
“Just a couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have,” she admitted. “But things have changed.” She gave Lilliana a secret smile that wasn’t as secret as she probably thought it was.
“I’d like to think I played a role in that,” Lilliana said, as if she didn’t know that she was the sole reason he wasn’t still a monster.
Because of Lilliana he had feelings. “Yeah, I’m a real boy now.”
She laughed, her amber eyes sparkling as she finished pouring the wine. “Look at you, referencing Pinocchio. The movies I make you watch are paying off.”
“Yeah, well, Pinocchio got turned back into a puppet.”
Idess shook her head. “You’re thinking of what happened to him in one of the Shrek movies.”
Ah, right. He liked the Shrek films. Ogres weren’t usually that funny.
Mace held out his arms and Idess scooped him up. “Do you want to hold your grandson?”
He stared at the squirming toddler, his heart racing, his mouth dry. Even his palms had begun to sweat. The child was the most innocent thing to have ever stepped foot in this realm, and Azagoth was the most evil. His hands... His hands had done things that child would never even be able to comprehend, and they didn’t belong anywhere near such purity.
“I can’t.” He backed up a few steps, hoping he didn’t look as panicked as he felt. “I’ll drop him.”
Lilliana stood, concern darkening her gorgeous eyes. “Darling, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said, still backing up. “I just have things to do. Appointments. I have to go.” He didn’t care that he looked like an idiot. He had to get out of there. “Idess, I’ll ah... I’ll see you later.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. He flashed into his office, his heart pounding, his breath burning in his throat.
What the fuck was happening to him?
With trembling hands, he poured himself a double shot of tequila from the bar on the far wall, downed it, and poured another. As he raised the glass to his lips for the second time, he noticed the flashing light on his communications pad.
He scanned the message from Jim Bob, one of his Heavenly spies, and trashed it. He wasn’t interested in low-level gossip speculating about the mysterious author of a new comic book series that was outing a lot of underworld and Heavenly secrets.
Nope, Azagoth didn’t give a shit about any of that. What he cared about was getting his emotions under control and his life in order. He didn’t know how to deal with his rogue emotions, but he did have an idea about the rest.
Unfortunately, that meant dealing with the Memitim Council, and for some reason, the only people ever appointed to the Council hated him.
For thousands of years he’d kept out of their business, letting them govern the Memitim in whatever shortsighted, dumbass manner they saw fit.
But those days were over. Azagoth had been absent as a parent, very hands-off, and as a result, his children had suffered.
There was a tap at the door, and his assistant, Zhubaal, entered. “My lord, Mariella is here.”
“It’s about fucking time,” he snarled. “Send her in.”
The tall, elegant brunette swept into his office, her purple velvet robes swishing around her high-heeled, jewel-encrusted shoes, her cinnamon wings extended and puffed up, as if she expected a fight.
It wasn’t as if a fight would be completely unprecedented.
Azagoth despised angels. Most of them, anyway. But the worst of the very worst were those who looked down their heavenly noses at him. Oh, they respected his power and his position, but on a personal level, they thought he was scum.
Mariella, in particular, thought he was a supreme lowlife, and she had for the entire three centuries in which she’d been his primary Heavenly liaison.
He hated her.
He glared as she launched into a tirade, lecturing him about his duties that related to Memitim. Thing was, she’d never been Memitim, wasn’t on the Council, and she didn’t even work in the embassy. She should be lecturing him about anything but Memitim.
“In summary,” she said, “you are out of luck.”
For the millionth time he thought about tossing her into the tunnel behind the wall panel and sending her to play with millions of demon souls. Just five minutes in the Inner Sanctum would wipe that smug look off her face. But it wouldn’t get him what he wanted.
Be civil. “I’m not asking for the Memitim program to end,” he gritted out. “I’m asking for some changes.”
“No.”
“Dammit, let me speak to someone on the fucking council.”
“Azagoth, you agreed to this thousands of years ago. You signed a contract in blood. And now, with fewer Memitim than ever, it’s even more crucial that the rules be strictly followed.”
“Oh, fuck off,” he snapped. “There’s no shortage of Memitim.”
“You have stopped fathering them, have you not?”
Stupid question, because she knew the damned answer. “You know I did, a couple of years ago when I took Lilliana as my mate. But that’s hardly enough time for Memitim numbers to suffer.”
She shook her head. “Production started going down centuries ago,” she said, making it sound like Azagoth had been putting his children together on an assembly line. “We used to get seventy-two Memitim from you per year. But even as the human population exploded and increased the need for guardians, you slowed down. Started refusing the females sent to you. You used to be so...prolific.”
That was because he used to believe in the cause. And he’d been young, dumb, and horny. Oh, and evil. Very evil. Then, sometime around the Industrial Revolution, he’d begun to grow bitter and angry. Rebellious. And it had been extremely satisfying to refuse the angels sent to his bed.
Still, he’d always left Memitim business to the Memitim Council. Until recently. Recently...he’d mated Lilliana. He’d filled his realm with his offspring and had gotten to know them. He’d also lost some who had died in battle protecting their Primori. And just this year, three others, mere children, had lost their lives growing up in horrible human conditions.
Oh, yeah, it was time for some shit to change, and he was done being civil.
“Listen to me,” he snarled as he backed her against the door he was going to toss her out of. “On some items there is room for negotiation. Then there are the things I demand. No negotiating on those.”
“Like plucking your juvenile offspring out of the human world and bringing them to you? Or taking your daughter Suzanne out of the Memitim program?”
“Yes, and yes. My children should grow up here, and Suzanne, despite being assigned a Primori, isn’t suited for this life.”
“That’s for the Memitim Council to decide. Not you.”
Murderous desire made his fangs throb for a taste of angel blood. “She’s my daughter!”
“She’s an instrument of Heaven, created by you for that purpose.” Mariella’s mouth twisted in distaste, as if she was picturing lying with him in bed. “You waived all rights to fatherhood the moment you spilled your seed inside her mother. You’re lucky we allowed you to open Sheoul-gra to your adult offspring. There’s no way you�
��re taking control of the juveniles.”
Cold, seething anger congealed in his veins. He did not like to be told no.
“Send me a Council member,” he growled. “I’m done with you.”
Her chin tilted up in defiance, but her lower lip trembled. Good. More of her was going to be trembling if he didn’t get his way.
“Council members aren’t authorized to negotiate with you.”
“Send one!” he roared, his patience shredded. “Send one today.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Satisfied—for now—he released the angel.
But if he didn’t see a Memitim Council member soon, Heaven was going to get a taste of his brand of hell.
* * * *
Lilliana drained her wine glass as if an instruction manual that would explain her mate was at the bottom.
One wasn’t.
“Was that weird?” Idess asked as she refilled her own glass. “Because I feel like that was weird.”
Lilliana sighed. “It was weird. I’m sorry, Idess. He’s been moody lately.”
“Is something going on?”
“I don’t know.” Lilliana smiled at Mace as he chased a butterfly. “He won’t talk to me about it.”
She’d tried on several occasions to get him to discuss whatever was making him grumpy, but he’d always either changed the subject or distracted her...usually with sex.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Idess asked. “I’m not that close to him, but I could try talking to him.”
“I think you’re closer to him than any of his children,” Lilliana said. “But you know, I think that might be part of the issue. He’s been spending more time with all of his sons and daughters. I’ve even heard him asking them about their pasts. Maybe he’s been trying to get closer to them.”
Idess smiled. “He’s opened up so much since you came into his life.”
“Lately it doesn’t feel that way.” No, it felt like he was pulling away from her. “And I don’t understand. Things are going so well here. I thought he was happy.”
“I’m sure he is.” Idess covered Lilliana’s hand with hers. “Whatever is going on with him isn’t about you.”