by Alisa Woods
“What are you talking about?” She scowled.
A small smile tugged at his lips. “I’m saying I won’t leave, Lizza. Not unless I have to.”
Relief washed through her. “Oh. Okay. Good.”
“But there’s something I need to do.” And the way he said it—the way he edged closer to her—he definitely meant he needed to do something to her. Like kiss her, with the way his gaze was fixated on her lips.
“Like what?” she whispered. Hoping. Trying not to hope. Hoping again.
His gaze rose up to meet hers. He peered into her eyes for a moment. “There’s one more power angelings have that I haven’t told you.”
“Seriously? You guys have an endless supply of those.”
He smiled then ran his fingers along the hair framing her face. It was so gentle, barely even touching her, but it electrified every part of her. He’d never done that before, not that way. “You are so beautiful and brilliant. Not only on the outside, the things mortals can see, but on the inside as well.”
“Wait, you can see… the inside of me?” The shock of this was an icy hot tremor through her. “Can you read my thoughts?” Oh, God, that would be horrible.
He gave a soft laugh. “No. I spend quite a bit of time wondering what you’re thinking, though.”
That turned the icy hot into pure heat. She held her breath, waiting for more.
“What I see is who you truly are,” he said gently. “The essence of you. Your soul.”
The chill came rushing back. “You do?” Okay, that could be equally bad. Worse, even. “What does that look like?”
His mouth worked for a moment, but no words came out. Then he swallowed. “Do you know the feeling when you see something impossibly beautiful? A work of art. A glorious sunset. A small child picking flowers. An act of kindness. All of those things pressed together and made to shine forth, brighter than the sun. That is a human soul.”
Now she was the one who couldn’t speak. Finally, she managed, “You can see that?”
“Yes.” His voice was a whisper, and his hand had strayed to her cheek, so light with his fingers she would barely know it except that her skin was on fire with his touch. “When I say you are beautiful on the inside, Lizza, I mean it literally. Your soul shines with such brilliance that it steals my breath. Humans are impossibly alluring to angelkind to begin with. That’s why it’s so difficult to Guard them.” He was closer now, gaze flicking between her lips and her eyes, and she’d never ached so much for a man to kiss her in her entire life. “A woman like you would be terribly difficult to resist under any normal circumstance, but in your specific case, there’s something more. Something I’m done trying to resist because it’s the one thing I can give you.”
Her eyes were wide. “What do you mean?” Just kiss me, she begged with her eyes.
He brought his other hand up, so he was now cupping her cheeks. Just like that time before, in his cell, when she was certain he would kiss her.
“Your soul has a darkness in it. A broken spot in need of healing.”
“What?” She drew back, slipping out of his grasp. “I’m not… I’m not broken, Oriel. I was just… upset or depressed or whatever. I’m fine.”
He gave her the kindest look. The kind you give to someone who is broken, in pain, hurting in some terrible way… oh, crap.
Her mouth went dry.
“I can see it, Lizza,” he said softly. Gently. So kindly.
And yet it was like a thunderclap jolting her system. What was wrong with her?
“You lost your parents.” His hands took hold of hers. “It opened a wound in your soul. You know this is Truth.”
Something deep inside her ached. She felt the resonance of what he was saying there. “That was so long ago…” But she knew that didn’t matter. Was there a single day she hadn’t thought about them? About fulfilling her vow to her father on his deathbed? No.
“And every day since, you’ve devoted yourself to them.” He smiled kindly. “It’s a noble thing, the pursuit of science, but you forsook all other things for it. The wound could never heal because you never let anything come into your life that was capable of healing it.”
She wanted him in her life. Was that what he meant? “But you can heal it?” That surge of hope sprang up again. Was he saying what she thought?
He nodded. “I thought you might get there on your own. I felt sure that your work would fulfill your vow to them, and once that happened, you would heal your own soul. It can happen. Or so I’m told. But then the Bounce Back run went sour. And the darkness inside you grew, Lizza. It grew, and it dragged you into its darkness.”
She frowned. “I just get down sometimes, that’s all.” She shook her head, resolute. “I’m not suicidal or crazy or… whatever you’re thinking.”
His hands released hers then slid back to her cheeks. “I’m thinking that you needn’t feel that darkness anymore. I can bestow a blessing upon you—one that will heal the rift inside. You’ll be free of the darkness that crowds your thoughts when you falter in the pursuit of your vow. And then—once you’re whole—I’m sure you’ll find your way to it.”
It was hard to breathe with him so close, holding her face, whispering these things to her. “You want to give me a blessing so I can fulfill my vow?” Her eyes ached with unshed tears. She’d never met anyone like this amazing, beautiful man. She would take his blessing and his friendship and whatever else he had to give. And she would try like crazy to be worthy of it all.
“I want so badly to heal your soul.” His voice was rough, and it revved her heart.
“How…” She couldn’t breathe. “How does it work?”
“I breathe it upon you with a kiss.”
Oh, God, yes! Yes. She nodded, rapidly, cheeks moving against the infinite softness of his hands. Please let this happen. Please let this be real.
A breath escaped him like a sigh—and she was afraid that was it.
But then he leaned into her, slipping one hand behind her head and the other to her back, drawing her against him. When his lips met hers, she shuddered with the pent-up need for his touch. Her lips parted under his, but he wasn’t kissing her—at least, it was like no kiss she’d ever seen. He was open-mouthed breathing into her, like a slow and deeply sensual CPR. It wasn’t what she wanted, but it infused her with a soaring joy, like a straight jolt of life that shocked her heart then seeped into every corner of her being. Her hands grasped at his broad shoulders, bringing him tighter against her, opening herself wider in every way—her mouth, her heart, her aching need for him. He kept breathing the long, slow breath like he was emptying himself into her, and heat surged up to chase after her joy.
She wanted his man like she’d wanted nothing in her life.
His hold on her was gentle, but his muscles flexed, tense and rigid like he was holding himself back. Which was not what she wanted. She was pressed against the length of him, and every hard muscle was taut against her, including an impressive erection. He wanted her too. Of course. She knew that, but feeling his desire made her squirm with the need for a real kiss. Not one composed of a surging blessing-breath, but lips and tongue and need.
He finished the blessing at long last and pulled back just far enough that their lips no longer touched. He sucked in air fast, then breathed raggedly against her lips.
“Oriel,” she whispered. Then she pulled his face to hers, meeting him halfway with her lips. His were now soft, and they yielded to her demands. At first, the kiss was lips only, tentative as she nibbled at his to see if he would respond. If he would give her the kiss she truly desired. Then his lips moved, just a little, parrying her thrusts, pushing back against her demands. At first, it was soft… then he became more insistent.
Her heart thrilled to movement. He was kissing her!
His tongue brushed her lips, and she eagerly opened her mouth to him. He made a small sound—like a moan or a groan—then slipped his tongue into her mouth. His kiss was soft and then strong, gen
tle touches then harder thrusts. Her heart stuttered with the wonder of it, her hands clung to his shoulders, her body aching for more. His fingers worked into her hair, his hand skimming down her back and over her bottom. Yes! She could hardly believe this was happening. Her aching need for more surged up and made her claw desperately at him. He groaned and walked her backward. The wall came up hard against her back, and he pressed her into it, plundering her mouth with his tongue. His erection loomed large between them, pressing into her belly and making her writhe against him.
Yes, yes, yes! She wanted him now. She didn’t care if this was the first time for both of them—they would fumble their way through it. They would make it work. Neither of them knew much about what they were doing, but everything—his kiss, his groans, the way he moved against her like he couldn’t get enough—felt so right.
He pulled back from his deep kiss. “Lizza.” His voice was rough—ragged. Hoarse. “Lizza, I have so much… want. So much need.”
She dug her fingers into his shoulders. “I want you so badly.”
He groaned and dove in for another kiss. But as he did, his clothes disappeared! No… transformed. He was wearing the toga again, which left his bare chest hot against her palms and pressing against her. Only her thin t-shirt stood between them. So much manly muscle all at once wedging her against the wall…
She whimpered. It was mewling and soft. She would have begged him to take her, right here, right now, but all sound was trapped by his kiss. So she just whimpered again under the press of all that gorgeous flesh, and the sound seemed to drive him into a frenzy. He pressed her harder into the wall and groaned. A whisper of sound from behind him drew open her eyes—
Black wings.
She jolted in his arms. The reaction stopped him cold. He yanked back, breathing heavily, eyes dilated, lips parted. She fumbled to say something, but the terror in her eyes was enough to draw him back further.
And then her heart fell to the floor. She’d thought the flash of black feathers was a shadow angeling come to attack them… but no.
They were Oriel’s wings.
“No, no, no, no…” She was blabbering.
Oriel frowned and whipped his head to the side—then he jerked away from her. “No!” he cried.
“Oriel—”
But he had already staggered back. The horror on his face ripped her heart in two.
“Wait!” She flung herself away from the wall, reaching for him, but he jerked out of her reach again.
Then, with a screech that felt like it might break her ears, he flung himself up—but he just slammed against the ceiling and crashed face-first back down into the floor. Plaster fell with him.
“Oriel!” She lurched toward him.
He picked up his head and snarled. “Stay away!” Then he leaped off the floor, bounced off the wall as he turned and flew through her bedroom door.
“No!” She chased after him with numb legs.
More screeching came from the living room—a high-pitched sound that ripped the air—and when she turned the corner, she glimpsed Oriel just before he slammed into the ceiling again. Only this time… he passed through.
And disappeared.
Tajael stood next to the wall, arms raised. He’d dropped the wards. Her guess was confirmed by his frantic waving and whispering—all the things they did to raise them again.
“Okay, they’re up,” he gasped out in a ragged voice to Charlotte.
Then he caught sight of Lizza, and both turned to stare.
What had she done?
The Lust still surged through Oriel’s body.
Lust and Wrath and a crippling wave of Envy. The Lust was for Lizza, of course, and the Wrath directed at himself, but the Envy… that was what pushed him over the top. The extreme pain of tasting the sweetness of Lizza only to know he could never have her—not as any mortal man could. His angel power was his curse. And while he managed that one final act in the light—giving her a blessing to heal the darkness in her soul—he’d lost control almost immediately.
Just as he knew he would.
Thank the heavens Tajael had released him from the wards.
But in his haste to get out, he’d only left the building. And hovering over a rooftop guarded by a legion of angelings of the light… he was instantly surrounded.
Their blades were out, at the ready, but they floated around him, not yet striking. Two dozen at least… but these were his friends. Angelings he knew and fought beside. That alone had bought him a moment’s reprieve in the darkness of the night and the silvery moon.
His own blade pulsed at his side, reacting to the nearness of his shadow magic. His obsidian black wings beat the air, but his blade still glowed white. He drew it, and the angelings tensed, but he just dropped it to the rooftop below. It was poison to him now, just as everything in the light.
He stared at them, and they stared back. They should attack. They should destroy him before he could be pressed into service for one of the dark angels. He wanted them to slay him, now, before his defilement went any further… but he was their friend. They didn’t want his blood on their blades, and in Truth, he shouldn’t ask such a thing.
He had nowhere to go. Nowhere to turn. But he should leave before he forced them to make a horrible choice. Just as he twisted to open an interdimensional door to anywhere, a wall of dark feathers surrounded him. A legion of shadow angelings had popped into existence, shielding him from the angelings of light. They were clad in black leather, blades bristling. The angelings of light—his brothers and sisters—let loose a Warrior’s cry and surged toward them. But the shadowkind didn’t stay long enough to be reached.
A dozen hands on his arms and legs and fisted in his hair grabbed hold of him—and yanked him out of that reality and into another.
The hands left him quickly, all but the one in his hair, and that pulled him back against a leather-clad chest behind him. His wings were between them, black and twitching, but that didn’t stop the angeling from breathing in his ear. “Got you just in time, sweet thing.”
What? The shock of a soft feminine voice when he expected a blade in the back riveted him.
“Who are you?” he gasped, trying to twist to see her, but she still had him by the hair.
“Name’s Terah.” He heard rather than saw her lick her lips. “And you owe me, angel boy.”
A pulse of terror clenched his heart. “I don’t—”
But then she shoved him away—not just releasing the hold on his hair, but shoving him with a foot to the back. He tumbled from where they’d been floating down to a platform of black glass. Once he stopped skidding, he squinted behind him—his rescuer was grappling with another shadow angeling. Her cry was fierce as she slashed at him with her blade. The other angeling took a glancing blow then slashed upward with his own blade. They tumbled through the air, and as they fought, glimpses of the surrounding cavern filtered through his shock. Black glass glistened and stretched far above and below the platform he crouched upon. A tower grew below the smooth top, disappearing into the depths. The angelings who had snatched him were all hovering above the platform, a few eyeing him with obvious Lust or Greed or some avarice he couldn’t identify, but most were watching the fight.
Terah cried out again—an angelsong blast that ripped the air with both anger and pain. Oriel surged to his feet. He didn’t know what was happening—not in the slightest—but she had saved him. He had no doubts she had her own reasons—angelings in shadow did not perform acts of Charity—but his impulse to help her was almost overwhelming.
His wings may be black, his body may be riven still with the mania of his Fall, but he’d been an angeling of the light all his life—to not help someone under attack was almost impossible. But he wavered as she fought back. If he came to her aid, he might save her… or he might simply get them both killed. He knew nothing about the dynamics of the situation. In Truth, he knew nothing of what was happening at all.
Terah flipped through the air, p
ivoting over the head of her attacker, and when he swung around, he was exposed—her blade ran true, deep in his chest. She yanked her blade out, and the angeling tumbled down into the darkness.
Oriel watched him fall, heels over wing, and wondered if his end would be that easy. And, from the tales of horror he’d heard, relatively painless.
Not that pain frightened him. But the Penance rooms served a purpose.
All of this was nothing but Sin.
As was his life, now.
Terah threw her hands in the air and let loose an angel cry. This one sang of victory.
“Any other takers?” she challenged. “I’m already bloodied,” she taunted them. “Try your luck.”
But none seemed eager to take up the challenge, whatever it was. One by one, they winked away, disappearing from sight. In the far distance of the enormous cavern stood a massive black-crystal palace, and several of the angelings seemed to reappear there. Dozens more circulated throughout the cavern, their black wings whispering in the air and against the walls where they clung. A shadow Regiment. He knew where he was, but the speed of his Fall still left him breathless.
He had no inkling of what to do now. Survive? Or find a way to perish, so as not to become a soldier of evil? Provoke a fight so some shadow angeling would finish him and put an end to it? Either way, he was trapped in a tight box of Sin.
Terah swooped through the air and landed with surprising grace on the platform beside him. Her blade was sheathed, so he supposed she didn’t plan to kill him. Not immediately, anyway.
She smirked and sauntered toward him. “That was easier than expected.”
He leaned back at her approach. “You just killed a man.”
She stopped in front of him, dark eyes alight. “Aww… you light angelings are so adorably innocent.”
He scowled. “I’m not an angeling of the light.”
“Well, sure, now.” She ran a look across the length of his body. Just like his blade had still been white, so was his toga. She fluttered her fingers at him, and the white turned to black. She was still clad in leather, mostly, but the short skirt of a toga hung from her hips, not coming close to reaching the tall black boots covering her legs. “That’s better. Come with me, angel boy.”