She could be a Taylor Swift fan instead of fantasizing about being a Hinder groupie.
She might prefer red licorice instead of black.
She could—may the football gods preserve us—be a New England Patriots fan.
Okay, let’s not get ridiculous.
She most certainly wouldn’t be having conversations in her head.
Yeah right, you tell yourself that if it makes you feel better.
Okay, but they’d probably be conversations that were more uplifting.
My inner bitch growled and muttered something highly derogatory as Gabriel put his hands on my shoulders and gave me a little shake to refocus my attention.
“Sinisia is inside Jenna because the human body is roughly sixty-five percent water,” he said, pausing to make sure I was following. “It’s the only way to guarantee she can release Ryiel’s soul when the time comes.” He ran his hands down my arms until he was holding my hands. “She isn’t inside Jenna’s head, nor will she ever be. She cannot change the way Jenna will grow up, or the way she thinks. Sinisia can’t stop her from being the person she is meant to be. She will remain in a dormant state until Ryiel awakens her.”
“How’s he going to do that? Tap Jenna on the temple with his knuckles and shout Honey, I’m home?”
Gabriel smiled. “He’ll give Jenna the greatest orgasm of her life.”
Now that’s my kind of wake-up call.
“So I’m still me . . . ?”
“You always have been. Each Promise is different, Rowan, and the terms set are different for each Original.”
“How so?”
He took in a deep breath, and I felt his thumbs stroke over the inside of my wrists. “Ryiel chose a siren because he knew she would remain in the sea until the time came for him to summon her. Keeping her safe was the most important thing to him, but it was also agreed that he would only be able to call her one time. If something happened before she was able to”—he hesitated, searching for the right word—“implant herself, there would be no do-over. Ryiel’s one chance at redemption would be forever lost.”
“But you and I didn’t have an agreement like that.”
He raised my hands and brushed his lips across the back of my knuckles. “No, we didn’t. For one thing, you’re not a siren, for which I am eternally grateful.”
“Why? Didn’t you think Sinisia was beautiful?”
“Of course, but the idea of scrambling over a rocky shoreline hoping for a glimpse of you would be frustrating, to say the least.”
“Is that what Ryiel’s been doing?”
He shook his head. “No, but then Ryiel was never in love with Sinisia.”
I felt as if we were dancing on the cusp of something important. “And you always have been . . . ?”
He smiled. It was a sensuous curve of his mouth that made me clamp my thighs together. “From the first time I saw you. It just took a little longer for you to fall in love with me, I think.”
“How much longer?”
The smile became a playful grin. “Almost a full day.”
I shook my head. “You’re wrong.”
“Oh? Then tell me.” He tilted my chin up and brushed his lips over my mouth. “When did you know you loved me, Rowan?”
“In my father’s tent.”
His eyes darkened and glowed with a light I had never seen before. It both unnerved and excited me. I was standing on the precipice of something momentous. Something life-changing. Something awe-inspiring. “Do you remember that moment? Truly?”
I stared at Gabriel, seeing him not as the vampire he was now, but as the angel he had once been.
“I was told it was forbidden to look on you—any of you—because I was a woman, and you despised all women.” I let out a short laugh at the absurdity of such a statement. Surely someone, somewhere, had to know this would only make me more determined? “I stole a robe with a hood big enough to cover my hair and hide my face, and I slipped in behind the guards, only . . . you saw me.”
Like a closed flower opening to greet the sun, I could feel the memory blooming in my mind.
Pulling the hood of her cloak over her head to cover both her hair and shield her face, the girl slipped into the Warlord’s tent. Choosing a place in the back where the glow from the fire pit did not reach, nor the light from the torches, she mingled with the shadows, waiting for them to come. She had been told they despised all women, and the presence of any female would be a great insult. It took all she had not to laugh. Didn’t they know such words would only make her more determined to see them for herself? As long as she kept herself covered and stayed where the light was dim, who would ever know?
The abrupt cessation of all conversation heralded their arrival, and she was unable to stop the breath from catching in her throat at her first sight of them. They were more glorious than any of them had imagined. Unfortunately, her gasp was loud enough to draw knowing looks from those closest to her, and even though an unexplained heat flushed her face, she did not look away. She could not. In the moment it took for her to draw a second breath, the girl knew she would never give herself to any mortal man. A fact that did not bode well for the treaty her father had already secured with the promise of her virginity.
Hearing her gasp, the man on her left commented, “Mark my words—we’ll all be falling short now.”
His companion snorted in disgust. “They have wings! How is an ordinary man expected to compete with such things?”
“I know not, but perhaps it is just as well all eligible maids have been forbidden to gaze upon them.” The first man stared pointedly at the cavernous hood that covered her.
Her discovery imminent, the girl made to move farther into the shadows, but the man who had complained about competing with wings caught her by the wrist. “Take care, lady,” he warned in a low hiss, “for they are not as mortal men, and you may be disappointed to discover there is much they cannot offer.” He paused before adding, “It is said they think women are unworthy of their attention.”
She dropped her eyes to the strong fingers wrapped around her arm before looking back up at the man’s face, staring pointedly until the hold was released. “Disappointment is not unknown to me,” she told him. “To renew our acquaintance would cause no hardship.” But deep in the secret part of her heart she knew it for a lie. Surely, if the gods saw fit to grant her prayer, they would not be so cruel.
Moving away from her companions, she looked at the three angels who stood before the Warlord. They had come to offer their strength and skill to help turn the tide in a conflict that had gone on too long. But the Warlord was a cautious man. He would accept no one’s help until he understood why it was being offered, and what it would cost him. She continued to stare at the angels, unaware that her heart was now beating faster than normal.
The one to the right had dark glossy hair that shimmered like a raven’s wing in the early morning sun. She longed to see his face, for she had been told the color of their wings matched their eyes. If that were true, then he must view the world with eyes of silvery moonlight. The one on the left was blessed with thick locks that reminded her of a sky at twilight. Shades of purple cascaded over his shoulders, enhancing the copper hue of his feathers. But it was the long white hair and bright blue wings of the angel in the center that mesmerized her. She had never seen such colors before. Both were so brilliant she was forced to lower her eyes, unable to decide which she wanted more—to feel the softness of his wings against her skin or run her fingers through the silk of his hair.
The sound of shuffling feet and clanging swords interrupted her fantasy. Their business concluded, the visitors were preparing to depart the Warlord’s tent. The girl tried to locate the slit in the tent covering that had offered her entry, but in the sudden press of movement about her she was turned around, and lost sight of it. An unexpected sourness made her stomach churn. Disobedience was a trait her father did not tolerate, and there were many who would be only too glad to see the Warlo
rd’s willful daughter punished. The silence that had accompanied the angels’ arrival had been laced with a sense of wonder, but the silence that surrounded her now was oppressive and fearful. She had been betrayed. Her presence was a taint on the proceedings. Had it been the man who caught her wrist? Had he wanted a favor to silence his tongue? She clenched her hands tightly to better hide their trembling.
Her eyes were immediately drawn to the tips of the white-haired angel’s wings, the long feathers brushing against the ground. The urge to fall to her knees and place her palm between the edge of his wings and the dirt floor was almost overwhelming. Such vibrancy should not risk being dulled by the raised dust of their feet. Knowing all eyes were upon her, those of her Warlord father in particular, she resisted the impulse. She took in a deep breath, but instead of clearing her head, her nose was filled with a scent that reminded her of the icy crispness of the forest in winter. A mix of pine sap and freshly fallen snow that ignited a burn deep in her belly and flushed a heat between her legs. A heat that both terrified and excited her.
Her eyes traveled slowly up his form. The strange leggings protecting his lower limbs were affixed with no binding of any kind that she could see. Next were the soft hide trews that did little to disguise his muscular thighs. Recalling the earlier comment thrown her way, the corner of her mouth twitched to see that he appeared to be fashioned much the same as mortal men, assuming, of course, that the bulge in his pants served the same purpose. A wide belt, decorated with symbols she did not recognize, was wrapped around his waist.
His upper body was bare, but this, she reasoned, had more to do with the accommodation of his wings than the warmth of the day. Her eyes danced with delight over the well-defined abdomen, the heavy musculature of his chest and arms, the wide set of his shoulders. But she couldn’t bring herself to look at his face. She had been too bold already, gazing upon him as if she were no better than one of the camp followers, willing to sell her body to any soldier for a few coppers.
Strong fingers cupped her chin and raised her head, forcing her to look at him. The dazzling blue of his eyes, framed by thick dark lashes, was almost more than she could bear. She gasped to see that the rumors were true. The blue of his wings was the same shade as his eyes. But as she continued to gaze, mesmerized by the change from light to dark to light, she was startled to see not condemnation or scorn, as she expected, but humor. A teasing light that not only made his eyes dance, but lifted the corners of his sensuous mouth. His hand reached out toward her and pushed back the hood she had tried to hide in. Her hair fell in a cascade of dark red curls, and he smoothed them back from her face. The touch of his long fingers whispering across her cheek made her heart beat wildly in her chest and the heat in her belly turn to a fireball.
“This,” he said, twining a long curl about his finger, “should never be hidden.” He continued to look at her, and the intensity of his gaze increased with each stroke of his thumb over the trapped lock of hair. “How does your father call you?”
“Rowan,” she answered with trembling lips.
He raised his hand, pressing his lips against the deep chestnut curl. “I am Gabriel.”
Then he tilted his head as if hearing a voice no one else could hear, and she saw a sudden weariness fill his eyes. Freeing her from his tenuous hold, he bade her farewell, murmuring her name in such a way that she did not think he would forget it.
And knowing she would never forget his . . .
“Was that when you fell in love with me?” Gabriel asked in a husky whisper.
I shook my head. “No. It was the moment you turned away.”
“Ryiel knew.” His tone matched the stunned expression on his face. “And he never doubted you.”
“Another was with you. An angel with copper-colored wings, I don’t remember his name.” In truth it was amazing that I even recalled Ryiel was there.
“It was Dariel.”
Taking me in his arms, Gabriel kissed me. Long and slow, the kind of kiss that stayed with a woman for an eternity. “I was hiding in the back,” I murmured, swaying slightly in his arms. “How did you know I was there?”
“I caught the scent of wildflowers the moment I entered. It was hard to imagine any of your father’s formidable warriors perfuming themselves.” We both chuckled at the notion before Gabriel said, “And you looked then as you do now.”
Suddenly his face began to swim before my eyes, and I felt hot, wet tears spill down my cheeks. “Oh, G-G-Gabriel,” I sobbed, clutching his arms and holding onto him. “Your w-w-wings . . . your b-b-beautiful w-wings . . .”
He held me, stroking my hair and making soft shushing sounds until I was all cried out. How could I have forgotten about them? They were magnificent and glorious, and I knew I would probably weep again the next time I felt the thick, ropey scar tissue beneath my fingers. I didn’t need to ask why he had chosen me to be his Promise. His reason would be the same as the one I would give if asked why I went to the forest that night. It had been more than a compulsion driving me to respond to the call of the lesser beasts. I had already committed myself to Gabriel, body and soul, that moment in my father’s tent. My life was meaningless without him, and I would not allow another to safeguard his soul. Because I loved him.
“So what type of agreement did we have?” I asked once I managed to regain some semblance of control.
“You would live a normal life and if our paths crossed, I would wait to see if you were ready to give yourself to me.”
“And how was I supposed to let you know this?” Surely it had to be something more subtle than throwing myself at him.
“You would give me your real name.”
“Rowan?”
He nodded and pressed his lips to my forehead. “I had almost given up hope of ever hearing you say it,” he confessed.
I was almost too afraid to ask, but I did anyway. “Did our paths cross in all my lives?”
He turned serious. “No, not all of them. Sometimes an unforeseen event stopped us from meeting.”
“Unforeseen . . . ?”
“Earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, storms.”
“Volcanic eruptions?”
“You were at Pompeii.”
“Could have been worse,” I said, giving him what had to be the worst smile of my life. “At least I wasn’t eaten by lions at the Coliseum.”
“Um, that kind of thing actually happened at Circus Maximus, not the Coliseum, and yes, you were.”
I felt my stomach roll alarmingly. “Anything else?”
“You mean other than plague and sacrifice?”
“I caught the plague? As in the Black Death?”
He nodded. “It was very common throughout the Middle Ages.”
Like that was a big comfort. “And sacrifice?” I kept my fingers crossed, hoping it didn’t mean what I thought.
“The Mayans.” I uncrossed my fingers. It meant exactly what I thought.
“Well, it’s nice to know I’m a walking, talking billboard for reincarnation.”
“Yeah . . . you are.”
Something in the way he agreed with me didn’t sit right. “Okay, hotshot, what am I missing?”
“Not everyone gets to be reincarnated, Rowan.” I stared at him, wondering if I had the balls to actually voice the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. Turns out I didn’t have to. “I don’t know what happens to them,” Gabriel added.
“You were an angel—how could you not know?”
“There was some knowledge, actually a great deal of knowledge, stripped from us when we chose this new life. It was decided our adjustment to the life of a vampire would be easier if we weren’t carrying memories of our previous existence.”
“How much of your memory did you lose?”
“Most of it,” he admitted. “Obviously I retained anything to do with you, which is how I know I was an angel the first time I saw you.”
“Do you remember losing your wings?”
He nodded slowly, and the look on hi
s face was a plea for me not to ask. I knew if I did, he would tell me, but I knew he would suffer in reliving the tale.
“Doesn’t quite seem like a fair exchange,” I told him.
“To have you, Rowan, I would give so much more.”
I sighed and pulled the two halves of the thick bathrobe I was wearing closer together. A slight breeze was picking up. One that was strong enough to bring on a chill—
“Hey!” Looking down, I saw my clothes scattered on the ground. I didn’t need to check to know I was naked inside the robe. “When did I put this on?”
“While you were talking about our first meeting. You were starting to shiver, so it seemed like the time to get you out of your wet things and into something drier.” He came and stood next to me. “Are you upset?”
Upset? No, more like dismayed that Gabriel had been able to undress me without my noticing.
Chapter 23
I stared at what was left of my bed, the brand-new, only-used-once-by-me bed. Aleksei had been nice enough to prop the box springs and mattress against the wall, and to carefully place the splintered bed frame in a neat pile.
“Dahlink, we’re really, really sorry.”
I’d woken early to find a message on my phone from the lovely Magyar asking if we could meet at my apartment. I’d texted her back with a time. Naturally, I’d informed Tomas of my plans, because with Kartel on the loose and his whereabouts unknown, it would be stupid not to. Also I didn’t want Gabriel ripping his sentinel a new one if he had no idea where I was when he woke. On the drive over, I tried to imagine what Anasztaizia might want to talk to me about, especially as she had requested it be a girls-only chat. I crossed my fingers, hoping Aleksei wasn’t suffering any aftereffects from the attempt to destroy him.
From the irreparable damage to the bed, I’d say aftereffects were no longer an issue.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I turned to look at Anasztaizia. Beautifully turned out, as always, she put her hand on my arm and gave me a look that was more than a little guilty.
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