by Alisa Woods
“It’s complicated,” Erelah said with a sigh. “And no one rightly can claim to know why the transformation occurs. But for myself, I can say without question—Leksander’s True Love redeemed me. He had faith. He had Patience. He shines with Virtues, and his willingness to wait for me, fight for me, never give up on the possibility of our love…” Erelah was tearing up, and Eden couldn’t help but be moved. Ren was smiling with shining eyes. “He knew the Truth long before I did—that Love is not a Sin. And the lovemaking we make—the beautiful act that created our Aurora, our new dawn—is not Lust.” She shrugged. “I returned to the Light when my Love for him was True. I cannot explain it other than that.”
Ren’s eyes were glassing even more. “That sounds beautiful.” But she seemed about to cry. “I think I’ll just… take a little rest.” She got up abruptly and headed down the hall to her room.
Erelah looked stricken. “I do not understand. Why would my words upset her?”
Eden frowned and thought for a moment, but then it became clear. “Oh dear.” She cast a look down the hall and debated going after Ren.
“What is it?” Erelah asked, even more concerned.
“It’s all right.” Eden waved it off. “She’s in love with Micah.”
“Yes, I know. Elyon’s son.” Erelah wasn’t putting it together.
“If it’s as you say,” Eden said gently, “and True Love is what brings a shadow angeling back into the Light…”
“Oh.” Erelah’s eyes went wide. “Then he must not have True Love of her.”
Eden shrugged. “I don’t know. He certainly seems to love her. Then again, he was there when Elyon came for us. He would have brought her back to Elyon’s Regiment if your father hadn’t stopped him.”
Erelah’s astonishment fell into a frown. “That is unfortunate.”
“Yeah. It is.” Eden sighed. At least, Elyon didn’t pretend to love her. She knew he was a monster, even if knowing that almost broke her. But it didn’t. And now, she had a real chance at a life that could be wholesome and whole.
Before Eden could decide whether she should go after Ren, the front door to the apartment swung open. Eden startled, but Erelah was immediately on her feet, somehow pulling a blade from somewhere and leaping in front of the babies.
“It’s all right,” Laylah said, waving from the door. “I guess we should have a special knock or something.”
“Or perhaps simply lock the door.” Razael edged past Laylah, through the threshold.
“Yes, my lord.” Laylah looked chagrined as she closed the door behind Razael.
Eden’s heart was lurching around in her chest like it couldn’t decide whether to speed up or just leap.
Erelah had sheathed her blade somewhere and stepped around the babies. “Father! That didn’t take long.”
“Seemed like a small eternity to me.” He pressed his lips together, but his gaze had already found Eden’s face. Her heart decided leaping was the right response.
“I see,” Erelah said in a way that was pregnant with meaning.
“I came to check on you,” Razael said to Eden, and suddenly it felt like they were the only two in the room. Erelah, the babies, Aurora, all disappeared in the blazing attention Razael was lavishing on her.
“I’m fine,” she said. What she wanted to say was, I’m in desperate need of another blessing. But that was probably obvious and unseemly. Yet still true.
His gaze was penetrating—he was searching her soul. Would he like what he found there? The heat in his eyes didn’t temper. Was that good? She second-guessed every tiny nuance.
Finally, he broke the stare and faced Erelah. “I’ve briefed Leksander and the rest of the dragons and a contingent of angelings I’ve stationed inside the keep. I’m here to tell you as well our plans for Elyon.”
“So you’ve met with the other shadow angels?” Erelah asked as she plucked Aurora out of the air. She had been heading straight for Razael.
“All four of us are in the keep.”
Erelah’s eyebrows lifted, and Eden’s fluttering heart settled. That sounded serious. And like they were ready for battle.
Erelah glanced at Eden then back to Razael. “You’re going to lure him here.”
“Yes.” He gave a soft look to Eden then turned back to his daughter. “Your dragons are working on constructing secondary wards around all the apartments. You should remain behind those wards for the duration—until Elyon shows his face, and we’ve been successful in banishing him.”
“And if you are not?” Erelah’s face showed more concern than Eden felt—she had a great faith that whatever Razael had planned would succeed. And not just because she wished for it—because she had faith in the angel making the plans.
“Then please take your child and flee.” To Eden, he added, “Laylah has instructions to do the same with you and Ren and the babies. Under no circumstance should you hesitate.”
“I won’t.” And she wouldn’t—there was no way she would risk being caught by Elyon again. But if Razael failed to banish him, what would that mean? Could an angel die? She saw Zuriel struck down and yet, the angel had resurrected again in another human-like form. Angels were immortal… weren’t they?
This suddenly seemed an important detail.
Razael’s gaze was still on her, but he seemed frozen—like he was torn between staying and going. “Your soul is… it has made progress in healing since I saw you last.”
And that would be as good an excuse as any. “I might need another blessing. For the baby.”
His gaze heated again—and that look on his face was warming every inch of her skin.
Erelah held a squirming Aurora in her arms. “And… I believe I will take the babies to the nursery.” Then she quickly released Aurora and swept Ralphie in one arm and Eva in the other. Once she had the babies in hand, Aurora fluttered around her, curious, and followed her out of the great room and down the hall to the nursery.
Razael’s gaze never left Eden’s face. As soon as Erelah was out of the room, he crossed the great room to reach her, where she was still standing by the couch. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Was it her imagination that his voice was husky? “I… I wanted to thank you.” Now that he was here and gorgeous and standing in front of her with all his overwhelming masculine beauty, the words were thick in her throat. “For saving me. For healing me. For giving my baby back to me.” She was babbling, but it loosened her tongue a little. “I really do feel like I’m healing inside. Like that darkness Elyon carved into my soul is somehow fading.”
Emotions flitted across Razael’s face. He reached a hand for her cheek. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.” His fingers were hot on her skin.
Her breath quickened. “But as long as you’re here, perhaps another blessing will help even more.” She just wanted him to keep touching her like that. Keep looking at her like the sun and the moon rose at her bidding.
He let out a long exhale and eased closer. His hand on her cheek slid to holding it with his palm. His other hand cupped her belly. He wasn’t infusing her with angel power… he was simply holding her and looking like he might kiss her.
She was absolutely in favor of that.
He bent closer. “Shall I give you a life kiss this time?”
“Yes.” She said it fast and breathless. Please. She was ready to make that begging out loud.
“Oh, Eden,” he breathed on her, but not the magical kind, just the heat of his air mixing with hers as his lips neared. She tipped her head up to meet him but couldn’t quite reach. “How you tempt me.” Then he grasped her harder, holding her head still so she couldn’t reach for him anymore, and he breathed on her… only this time, it was filled with magic and energy and life. His lips didn’t touch her, frustratingly, achingly out of reach, but his hand on her belly infused her with a warmth that filled her head to toe. His touch on her cheek grew warmer, and his breath shuddered against her—light puffs that spoke of some internal struggl
e he was having. For her, the blessing was all the love and safety and warmth she remembered from her dream, the erotic one where he was touching her all over, igniting her body with desire.
The flow of magic—in his touch and his breath—came to an end, but he still held her.
Her hands, which had been lying limp at her sides, suddenly came alive with the panicky thought he might pull away. They fluttered up to his chest, half bare with his black toga only over one shoulder, and when she touched his skin with her fingertips, the shudder that ran through him before seemed to ripple through the firm muscles there.
But he didn’t move away.
She lay her palms flat on his broad chest, reveling in the strength of his muscles under the silky softness of his skin… and the soft thumping of his heart underneath. She knew he was angel, but in that moment, he was fully flesh in her hands. And this was so very Razael—gentle sweetness on the outside, rock-solid strength on the inside, and a tender heart beneath it all.
His breath was becoming ragged as she slid her hands along his chest, exploring. It was deeply satisfying to hear his breath catch, feel his pulse pound, know that she had this effect on him. Her hands traveled up to his cheeks and held him there. She peered up into his eyes, his lips still held tantalizingly out of reach.
“I know I’m not her,” she whispered, “but can you kiss me as if I were?”
Air released from his chest as it caved forward. Then he closed that final gap and pressed his lips to hers.
She didn’t know what to expect in a true kiss from an angel.
The toe-curling pulse of pleasure certainly wasn’t it.
He knees buckled under it, her sex flaming with sudden heat. He caught her—held her firm with his hands already on her—and devoured her mouth, lifting her from the floor, so her feet were no longer touching and bending her backward. She was fully at his mercy—he’d taken full command of her mouth with his tongue, her body was suspended in the air, held against his—but she’d never felt more safe or more loved. The heat of the blessing surged back and mixed with the ache between her legs and the furious pounding of her heart. She clawed at him to get closer, but he was already holding her tight against him. His mouth worked against hers, his tongue hungry for her, and just when she thought she might run out of air… he broke the kiss.
“Eden… angels of heaven,” he breathed against her, not letting her go.
There was nothing she wouldn’t say yes to at that point. “Don’t stop,” she whispered.
A groan and a shudder went through him at the same time. She felt them against her skin.
“Magic and Light, I want you.” But instead of pulling her close again, he set her down.
The disappointment was a physical ache carving out her chest.
He held her cheeks, gazed into her eyes, touched her lips with the softest brush of his fingertips… but no more.
She wanted to cry, but she held it in.
“I cannot…” He was almost talking to himself, his eyes fixed on her lips like he was thinking about kissing her again regardless of whatever was holding him back. Then he wrenched his gaze up to meet hers, and she could see the pain in his eyes. “I can’t take the risk.” There was more he was leaving unspoken, but that was enough for her.
He wanted her. But something inside him was broken, and so he simply couldn’t. Not yet.
She nodded and touched his lips with her fingertips in return. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “But when you can…” She peered up into his eyes—they had gone wide, almost wild, with her words. “I need you to show me what love is supposed to feel like.”
He shuddered again and pulled away. Let go of her entirely. And with that space between them, his expression grew more dark. “I told you before. I’m not the kind who’s worthy of someone like you.”
She frowned, a bite of anger eating at her. Or was it just frustration? But this “not worthy” business rubbed her entirely the wrong way. “Who’s saying that? The Light angels?”
His eyebrows lifted, and then a wry smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t need Light angels to tell me the Truth.”
She scowled. “I think it’s up to me to decide who’s worthy of kissing me. Or more.”
His eyes fell to half mast, and that look of want was back. It surged heat through her, prickling her skin, but he simply took another step back. And another.
“I must join the others,” he said, voice rough. “They’re waiting for me.” And then without another word, he turned and strode to the door. He flung it open, startling Laylah, who was standing directly outside. “Lock the door,” he growled to her and just kept going.
No goodbye. No “maybe later.” Just storming out to banish the one threat that still hung over her and her child. Whether she was just a stand-in for his long-lost love, she couldn’t tell. Maybe, after they consummated this burning passion between them, he would see the truth that she was just a half-broken woman carrying her rapist’s child. And then he wouldn’t want her. But she was certain that he wanted her now. And if he returned—if Elyon was defeated, and somehow Razael didn’t perish in the fight—she would take that angel to bed and revel in whatever minutes, or hours, or days he would give her.
She needed him. He was the final balm for her soul in a way that had nothing to do with blessings or breathy life kisses. And even more—he needed her.
She would heal this broken thing inside him if he gave her half a chance.
Chapter Fifteen
The blood circle was painted and ready… and moaning.
Razael had used his own blood to stain the flooring of the throne room of the House of Smoke, whispering the ancient incantations as he went, marking invisible symbols with magic. He’d been gratified when the last spell had pulsed enough power to knock him across the room. He hadn’t been sure the incantations would really work—they were ancient spells he’d gotten from the Light angels. He’d known of their existence from his time in the Light, but he hadn’t been their Guardian. Yet they obviously worked—the devil’s trap was clearly active. The floor appeared no different physically, but the connection to the Dominion of Darkness was open.
He could hear it.
The sound was the opposite of his remembrance of the angel choir—where that was thunderous glory and power and righteous Love, this was the howling absence of all those things. Debasement. Agony. An unquenchable Wrath.
It unsettled the dragons, who quickly withdrew, all save Leksander, who would command the wards when they needed to be dropped. Zuriel, Evangeline, and Jael stood in grim silence around the circle, broadswords conjured and drawn, but even they had stepped back from the edge. Razael could feel a sense of vacuum when he drew near it—as if the trap wanted to pull him in.
He kept his distance.
Yet they would all have to venture closer if they were to send Elyon into it.
“What if he doesn’t come?” Evangeline whined. They’d barely been waiting an hour.
“He will come.”
“Yes, but if he doesn’t… can you close this… this thing.” She gave a distasteful look to the blood circle, but he could hear the fear in her voice.
The trouble wouldn’t be in closing it. “Once Elyon is forced through to the other side, we merely have to break the circle.”
“Break it?” Zuriel asked, brows furrowed.
The idea of touching the activated circle unsettled him too. “It must be physically broken. We could erase the blood, but that can’t be done magically, for obvious reasons. And since that can’t easily be done, breaking the floor upon which it’s painted should suffice.”
“Hey, no one said anything about breaking the floor,” Leksander said from the far end of the room. He was pacing in front of the raised dais with the twin thrones for the King and Queen of the House of Smoke. “You’re going to fix that, right?”
Razael didn’t bother to answer—the dragon’s attempt to lighten the mood fell heavily on the assembled angels. Leksander was sure
ly worried about Erelah and Aurora—as was Razael—but being one of the lesser immortals, he was at least familiar with the concept of mortality. It was a concept angels only understood as something which would steal things from them—a beloved angeling with their hundreds-of-years lifespan or a fragile human with their even shorter ones. Razael had a keen sense of the limited number of years Eden would inhabit her beautiful human body before her soul would return to God. Her son would live longer, but still perish long before Razael’s time would come to an end.
Or… he could precede them all by falling into the gaping maw of this trap he’d constructed.
Every angel in the room was uncomfortably watching it with the same look of restrained horror. None had been so closely confronted with their own potential mortality before.
And even that was a misnomer, for he wouldn’t die… he would merely wish he could.
Facing that prospect made him glad he’d succumbed to his desire and kissed Eden. He could still feel the press of her lips, the sweet taste of her mouth, the wrenching softness of her body pressed to his. If everything went wrong, he would have that memory—that sweet, unsullied memory—to hold on to. With Elizabeth, he had lost control, and that memory would forever be seared with the loss of her and his shame for his Sin. With Eden, he had only one, perfect kiss—he’d managed to walk away before he could ruin everything with the madness that would have surely followed.
The tension in the throne room kept them silent as they waited.
An hour passed. And then another.
Jael pestered Evangeline for sex several times—finally, she told him to go to his cloud form. He floated in the room, a churning ball of dark, misty energy. Leksander had watched with wide eyes at first, but then he ignored the static charges and occasional vile smells. The dragon prince was in relatively constant contact with the dragons stationed outside the keep. Razael insisted that they have no angelkind outside, lest they give away the ruse to Elyon, but he kept a small legion of angelings inside. They would only be slaughtered by Elyon should he and whatever forces he brought somehow get past the four angels vying to entrap him, but his angelings had one instruction and one only—save the women and babies, including his daughter Erelah. Laylah was leading the angeling force, and Razael was certain she would relocate everyone at the first sign of trouble.