Rage and Redemption (Rebel Angels)

by Cyndi Friberg

  “Do it,” he whispered into her ear. “Do it for me.”

  Her body shook and her core tightened around him. She moaned as the climax ebbed, leaving her panting and trembling.

  Bending slightly, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. He needed to taste her before he took her. It would strengthen his control. He laid her carefully in the center of the bed and raised a knee to the mattress. She parted her thighs without hesitation and Gideon’s heart slammed into his chest. Her slit was flushed and glistening, open and waiting for his return.

  He slipped his hands beneath her bottom and started to lift her to his mouth but she squirmed away. “No more teasing. I need you now.”

  “I need this more,” he said gruffly.

  Understanding gradually shaped her expression and she relaxed her legs, a subtle invitation. Lifting her hips, he covered her with his mouth. He pushed his tongue between her folds, filling his mouth with her essence. A violent shudder racked his body. He did it again and again.

  She rocked against his mouth while he used his lips, teeth and tongue, always his tongue. He felt her tension, knew she was nearing another release. His own need responded in time. He surged up along her body, entering her in one forceful thrust. She cried out and he captured the sound with his open mouth. She hesitated then tentatively touched his tongue with hers.

  Gideon was lost. He held tightly to her hips, moving in her with demanding depth. She arched and pulled her legs up along his sides, offering him more, taking him deeper.

  They climbed together, frantic for the culmination of their mutual need. She gasped. He groaned. She clutched his back. He devoured her mouth, matching the thrusts of his tongue to the steady rocking of his hips.

  Gideon felt the sensations build and gather, spiraling ever tighter. He wrapped his arms under her back and grabbed her shoulders, holding her in place for each forceful drive. With a hoarse cry, he threw back his head, bared his fangs and spilled his seed deep inside her.

  Long moments later, he felt a ticklish pressure against his upper lip. He opened his eyes. Naomi stared up at him, her eyes luminous and content. She carefully traced his fangs with her finger. A jolt of tenderness so powerful it knocked the breath from his lungs responded to her casual gesture.

  “I love you, Gideon.”

  The tight burning in his throat was the only thing that kept him from repeating the endearment.

  He kissed her fingertip and rolled until she straddled his hips. The silken swirl of her unbound hair dragged a groan from his throat. Grasping her hips, he rocked into her slowly, allowing a new cycle of arousal to begin.

  Trepidation hurled him from passion’s haze, forcing his instincts into perfect focus. Holding her tightly to him, he sat up and scanned the darkness. He searched the room with all of his senses.

  “What is it?” Naomi whispered.

  He didn’t respond. Evil hovered over and around them, distant and yet distinct.

  “Is it Domieno?”

  Gideon shook his head, pulling her more firmly against him. “Nay. This is something—more.”

  He felt her tremble and wrap her arms securely around his back. “Will this never end?”

  “It will end, my love,” he promised her. “Once and for all, this will come to an end.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Naomi spent the following day with the orphans. She encouraged them to “play” in the brook and then scrubbed their matted hair before they realized it was not part of the game.

  Jack helped her create a log of names and ages, but at times she still saw suspicion in his dark brown eyes. Midge, on the other hand, followed Naomi about like a talkative shadow. The little girl quizzed her incessantly, most of her questions about Gideon.

  Late in the afternoon, Naomi returned to the castle. She wanted to bathe and change her clothing before Gideon awoke. The moment she stepped into the great hall, she knew something was dreadfully wrong.

  All conversation hushed and every eye turned her way. Stumbling to a stop, she searched the sea of faces, trying to understand their odd behavior.

  Kruthers pushed his way through the throng. “We have been searching everywhere for you, my lady.”

  “Searching for me? Why?” Anxious flutters danced through her belly. She had never seen Kruthers so animated.

  “It is Roderick.”

  Those three words filled her with dread. “Take me to him.”

  The crowd parted and let them pass. Naomi felt sorrow mount with each step she took. She didn’t want to lose her grandfather so soon.

  Countless candles burned and a massive fire roared, making the room stiflingly hot. Naomi paused in the doorway, shocked and horrified. Roderick rested in the center of the bed, a mountain of pillows stacked behind his back. Fear and grief held her motionless. Was she already too late?

  “My lord,” Kruthers said loudly, easing past her, “Naomi is here.”

  She didn’t notice Father John until she stepped into the room. He stood silently in one corner of the room, carefully distanced from the sick bed. Their eyes met and clashed but neither spoke.

  Roderick stirred. His breath rattled and wheezed and then his eyes opened. “Naomi, my love.”

  She stepped up to the bed and took his frail hand. His fingers were icy.

  “I am so cold, Naomi,” he whispered. “Cannot a fire be lit?”

  “I’ll see to it, my love,” she responded automatically. It didn’t matter that he thought she was his wife. She would do anything to make him more comfortable.

  He blinked so slowly that she feared his eyes would not open again, but when they did, his gaze was more focused, clearer.

  “Has he returned yet?” Roderick asked.

  “Has who returned?”

  “Gideon,” he said. “He went to fetch a special license. I want to see you wed before I leave this earth.”

  Naomi smiled and gently squeezed his hand. “Stubborn to the bitter end. I wondered where that trait came from.”

  “There is much of me in you. I only wish we’d had more time.”

  His gaze clouded and his eyes drifted shut. Naomi held her breath. She had never witnessed death, but she could sense it heavy in the room. His spirit was restless and ready.

  “Come, my lady.” Kruthers cupped her elbow and guided her away from the bed. “If he stirs again, I will fetch you.”

  “She would be more easily fetched if she would remain where she belongs.”

  Father John muttered the words under his breath, but Naomi heard him. She started toward him, but Kruthers held her back.

  “Not here,” he said firmly.

  She stepped into the corridor, her legs wobbly. “Is there no other priest to attend him? I despise that man.”

  “We have sent for another, but time is short. I am not sure Roderick will survive.” Kruthers sounded impatient and annoyed.

  “I apologize. I’m sure you know what’s best for Roderick.”

  “The time for changes will come, my lady, but Roderick deserves to pass peacefully.”

  “Of course. I will be in the hall or in my chamber.”

  He nodded and returned to Roderick’s side.

  Naomi started down the corridor, her steps lethargic. She needed to stay busy or this sadness would overwhelm her. She must arrange food for the orphans, but she would send word explaining why she didn’t return herself.

  She rounded a corner and fell back against the wall. The putrid stench of demons hung like fog in the air. Clasping her hand over her mouth, she forced down her nausea and pushed away from the wall. The corridor was empty but something was there.

  “Leave me alone,” she whispered.

  The icy brush of unseen fingers passed along her arms. She shrieked, jerking sharply to one side. “Stop it!”

  She took several quick steps and the cold sensation brushed against her legs. Choking back a second scream, she ran. The tormenting sensations continued until she reached the staircase leading to the g
reat hall. Then suddenly the air around her cleared, lightened until Naomi knew that the entity had vanished.

  Pressing her hand against her chest, Naomi felt the wild gallop of her heart. “You better be right, Gideon. I cannot take much more of this,” she whispered to the empty corridor.

  Karl rushed to meet her as she reached the great hall. “Is Lord Roderick…?”

  “Not yet. But I fear he’ll not last the night.” Her voice sounded as raw as she felt.

  “Come, sit by Will. Let me fetch you some wine.”

  She didn’t argue. Everyone here was waiting for Roderick to die. The realization felt awful. She wanted to weep and wail but her people expected her to be strong.

  “Here, this will soothe you.”

  Naomi accepted the cup from Karl but set it aside without taking a sip. She had caught a glimpse of dark red hair out of the corner of her eye. Searching the crowd with a careful gaze, she tried in vain to locate the person again.

  “What is it, my lady?” Karl asked.

  “I’m not sure. Do you know Frederick of Westerville?”

  “I know the knave,” Will volunteered even though she had posed the question to Karl. “He is a regular bas—”

  “Will!” Karl cut him off. “Why do you ask, my lady?”

  “Is he here in the hall?” Naomi asked.

  “I’ve not seen him,” Karl said. “Shall I search the crowd?”

  “Nay. It was probably my imagination.” She picked up the cup and raised it to her lips. The wine was cool and light. She drank deeply.

  “You believe he is Jack’s red-haired man.”

  Karl had not posed it as a question, but Naomi responded, “Aye, I do.” She took another drink before she said, “I promised Jack a meal for the little ones. I must go arrange it.”

  “Please, my lady,” Karl said. “Relax. Allow me to see to the arrangements.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Will offered, obviously impressed by his brother’s gallantry.

  “Then who will protect Lady Naomi?”

  Will laughed, realizing his folly. “Carry on. I will not leave her side.”

  Naomi had just finished her wine when Karl returned.

  “Two reluctant knights and a scullery maid are on their way to the ruins with a meal for the orphans,” Karl told her.

  “You have my thanks.” Naomi pushed back the bench. “Let us away to the tower room.”

  “Will you be able to see well enough to draw?” Will asked as they fell in behind her. “Shall we fetch more candles?”

  He was attempting to anticipate her needs as his brother had. But Naomi thought of Roderick’s suffocating bedchamber and shook her head. “Nay. I will be fine.”

  Karl preceded her into the room. He moved to the shelves and quickly lit several candles with the flame from the one he had carried from the hall.

  Naomi’s gaze touched the back corner of the room and she gasped. Will was beside her in an instant, his sword pointed directly at the intruder.

  Frederick of Westerville stood there calmly, his sword still in its scabbard. He slowly raised his hands and smiled. “I mean you no harm. I want only a word with you away from the chaos in the hall.”

  “Nothing you have to say interests me.”

  “You have a rather pronounced opinion of me. Why is that when we have never really spoken to one another?”

  She motioned for Will to sheath his sword but he ignored her. He moved back a step but his weapon remained at ready.

  “In our one and only conversation you called me a whore.” Naomi glared. “Grandfather has made it clear—”

  “Roderick is a stubborn old man. He believed lies and half-truths—”

  “That is the exact phrase Father John used to defend himself,” Naomi responded without pause. “I didn’t believe him then and I don’t believe you now. I trust Grandfather’s judgment.”

  He stepped away from the wall. Candlelight caught in his hair, accenting the red tones. Naomi’s gut twisted. She had no patience for this, no tolerance left for anyone today.

  “I don’t see why you and I can’t determine our own course.” He approached her cautiously, his gaze watchful. “We need not base our relationship on the opinion of others.”

  “We have no relationship, Frederick. Let me be perfectly clear. You are not welcome here.”

  “We are blood kin, Naomi.” He took the same liberty. “That has to mean something to an orphan.”

  Naomi shoved him hard with both hands. He stumbled back and collided with the wall. “You want to talk about orphans, you vile bastard? I know how you choose to use orphans.”

  Momentarily stunned by her unexpected aggression, Frederick quickly recovered. “Do not lay hands on me again or I will take it as an invitation to do likewise.”

  “Get out! Get off my land before I have you hanged.”

  “Father John told me this would be futile. He assured me you are no more rational than your grandfather. Just remember, I tried to settle this peacefully. I tried!”

  Naomi stepped aside and let Will have his way. The younger man escorted Frederick from the room at sword point.

  Shaking, unable to name the swarm of emotions seething within her, Naomi tore off her veil and tossed it into the corner Frederick had just vacated.

  “My lady.”

  She didn’t turn around. She was too close to tears. Raising her hand to ward Karl off, she said, “I am fine.”

  “My lady.”

  When he spoke the second time, Naomi realized it wasn’t Karl. She turned. Kruthers stood in the doorway, his devastated expression foretelling his announcement.

  “Roderick has passed.”

  * * * * *

  Gideon felt her sorrow as he entered the upper bailey. With a whispered explanation to his companions, he melted into the shadows and rapidly turned to mist. She needed him. Her heart cried out for comfort, even as her spirit grieved.

  Focusing on her pain, he easily found her. She sat on the floor in one corner of her bedchamber, her legs drawn up, her face buried against her knees. Her quiet sobs tore at Gideon’s heart. He knew in an instant Roderick was dead, but why was she alone?

  “Naomi,” he said softly, kneeling beside her.

  She raised her head and blinked the tears from her eyes. “Gideon. You’ve returned.”

  He pulled her onto his lap and cradled her against his chest. “Aye. Why is no one with you? No one should feel such sorrow alone.”

  “I asked them to leave. I must be strong for them, but I could be strong no longer.”

  He kissed the top of her head and arranged her more comfortably against his chest. Rubbing his cheek against the softness of her hair, he just held her.

  “Were you able to see him before he gave up the ghost?” he asked quietly.

  “Aye. But Frederick was here and—”

  “Frederick?” Protective anger made his arms tighten around her. “Frederick of Westerville came to the castle?”

  Naomi turned to face him. Kneeling between his legs, she rested her hands on his shoulders. His heart leaped toward her.

  “He attempted to convince me that Roderick was wrong about him, that he had been maligned.”

  “What a fool,” he muttered. “Where were Karl and Will? How did this man get near you?”

  “I was never in any danger.” Her beautiful eyes darted away. “At least not from Frederick.”

  He turned her face back toward his. “Then from whom?”

  She licked her lips, her eyes wide and frightened. “I sensed a presence in the corridor. I don’t think it was Domieno. This felt different, as if it were everywhere at once.”

  “Or there were many all in the same place.”

  She nodded. “Do you know who—or what this was?”

  “Aye. It’s called Legion. It is many and yet it is one.”

  “Why is it here?”

  Gideon hesitated to tell her too much. Understanding demons could make them less frightening, but only to a p
oint. “Domieno is running out of options. He is under tremendous pressure to deliver me to Lucifer. And Domieno knows he’s failing.”

  She smiled and kissed his mouth.

  “You have a visitor,” Gideon whispered against her willing lips. “Dry your tears. He’s waiting in the great hall.”

  * * * * *

  “Brother Gabriel!”

  Naomi flew across the hall and into his waiting arms. She clung to him, absorbing the familiar rasp of his coarse robes and the way his hand gently stroked her hair. Her heart flipped and tumbled and brilliant beams of light penetrated the darkness that had gathered all day.

  Easing back far enough to see his face, she smiled into his warm brown eyes. “How? Where did you come from? Why are you here?”

  “Do I need a reason?” he teased her, touching the tip of her nose with his fingertip. “Are you not pleased to see me?”

  “I’m thrilled. I’m ecstatic.” She took a step back, her gaze locked on his beautiful face. She was afraid if she blinked he would disappear. “I’m also confused. This can’t be coincidence. How did you know what was going on here?”

  Gabriel glanced around the crowded hall. “Is there somewhere we can speak more privately?”

  “Of course.” She reached for Gideon’s hand but he shook his head.

  “I’ll join you shortly,” Gideon said.

  Gabriel took her hand instead and tucked it into the bend of his elbow. They crossed to the counting room in the back corner of the hall. The room was cold and gloomy but at least they could speak freely.

  Gabriel sat while Naomi faced him, leaning her hips against the counting table.

  “Does Michael know you’re here?” she asked tentatively. “Can he hear me when I speak? Is he aware of everything that transpires on the earth?”

  Gabriel laughed and reached over to squeeze her hand. “That ability is reserved for God alone. Michael can easily find out anything he wants to know, but he is not omniscient.”

  “Does he know you’re here?” she asked again.

  “Aye. In fact he suggested I come.”