Angel’s mouth twisted. “So much love. The soul cannot deny its force.”
Daman dropped to his knees at Angel’s sides the full impact of his realization hit him. “My God. You gave this up? This love? This eternity? To be human … for me?” His voice cracked. Now he knew how much Angel loved him, how much she wanted to be with him. The light was temptation, love beyond reason, and this angel-woman had denied herself for him.
“There was nothing to give up and everything to gain. I love you. I wanted to be here with you. And now it’s all for nothing … ” A tear slipped down her cheek. She closed her eyes, swiping at the tears that trailed through the dirt on her face, staining her cheek.
He slammed his fists to the floor. “It is not! I have free choice and I choose to use it now. I choose to live, Angel. I choose to come back to you. I choose to forgive and move on. That’s what life’s about. Choice. This time I choose the best. I pick you to love and spend my years building a life with you. Having children and growing old with you. There is time enough for death. And there’s no rush to die. Eternity will always wait for us.”
“Do you really mean that, Daman?” Angel whispered. More tears made a silvery path on her cheek, but she made no attempt to wipe them away.
“More than I’ve meant anything in my life. I love you and I choose to be with you.” He bent, pressing his ethereal lips to hers.
Heat made his mouth tingle. It spread quickly through his face, down his neck and through his body. The tingling increased, swirling through his middle and flaring outwards. Nerve endings flickered and burst to life, warm blood rounded out veins, bones became solid. There was weight to his body, pressure on his skin and he felt Angel in his arms.
He shifted away a little, cracked eyes open. Blinked at her beauty. She was more real in his arms than she had ever been, more solid, packed with life. He pressed his hands to her cheek, felt her warm skin tingle against his, her breath caress his cheek.
He reeled back, studying his body, pressing his hands over his arms and torso. His wounds were healed, no bruises of the past hours of torture. He looked to where his body had lain. There was nothing there but a large patch of red blood darkening the ground.
“Antimedus?” He looked around. There was nothing, save the empty darkness of the warehouse. Vincent’s body was gone, as was Haki. There was no sign of the struggle that had taken place moments before.
“They’ve gone. Or we can’t see them anymore,” Angel said. She clutched her arm and shifted the material so that she could see. Her wounds had also been healed.
A groan shifted their attention. Daman ran to Pete, who was struggling to sit, a hand at his temple. “What happened?”
“Everything,” Daman said. A smile tugged his mouth so wide it almost became a laugh.
“Is that you? You’re smiling, you know,” Pete said. “I’ve got such a bad headache. Who the hell hit me?”
Daman slapped him on his shoulder. “You’ll live.”
He went back to Angel, took her hand and helped her to her feet, wrapping her immediately in his arms, “And this is where you’ll spend the rest of your life. I’m never going to let you out of my sight again.”
Angel tightened her arms about his waist, melting into his body, pressing her lips to his. “I can’t think of anywhere else I want to be.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Daman’s steps crunched on the gravel as they walked on the sun-dappled path. In front of them, Josephine’s long blonde curls bounced on her shoulders as she skipped. Her red sandaled feet tapped a quick little rhythm in time with the joy in his heart.
He tucked Angel’s arm with his, and turned to smile at her. She was as radiant as the day they’d met. He wondered that he found her even more beautiful with each passing day. She returned his smile immediately, leaning against him and resting her head on his arm. His gaze fell to her rounded belly, her hand placed protectively over it.
“Are you happy here, Mrs. Quade?”
She moved to gaze up at him, her arms still entwined with his, a look of mock surprise arranging her face. “Why wouldn’t I be happy with my police commissioner husband catching bad guys every day? You’re my regular good-guy superhero. I’m in seventh heaven.”
She chuckled and rested her head on his arm again. He wrapped his arms about her still-slender waist and she hugged him in return tying them together with linked arms. Together they strolled in their local park, heading toward the playground Josephine loved to play in.
His life had irrevocably changed since her entry into his life and he hadn’t looked back. There was no time for darkness, or fear or self-inflicted regret. Each day, each minute, each moment was a gift and he treasured them all, thankful that he had them.
He’d rounded up the last of the Lepski gang, tracking down the members who’d run away, scared and hiding from that night when Vincent had tried to abuse Angel. He’d actively pushed for a life sentence for Ben, the member of the gang who’d shot and killed Father Joseph. After seeing the red demons take Vincent, Ben had gone, willingly spending the rest of his life behind bars to pay for the wrong he’d done. He would only know if that was enough when his time came to become part of the Eternity.
He’d recovered Father Joseph’s Book of Angels. Angel was part way through interpreting it, in between motherhood and the new life she’d successfully carved for herself. He was amazed how easily she’d slipped from being an Angel to become part of this world.
“Do you care that you’re human?” he asked.
She looked at him, a smile playing on her lips, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you have no powers now. Do you miss having the capabilities of an Angel?”
She laughed, the musical tones warming his heart. “I have more than enough power, thank you very much.” She indicated her enlarged belly. “This is enough power for me.”
“Dad, can you push me?” Josephine’s voice floated on sunshine, capturing his attention. The little girl smiled at him. Her pink little cheeks were flushed with skipping along the path and now she waited impatiently on the swing. She looked just like her mother in every way.
Angel squeezed his hand. “You go on. I’m going to find a seat and put my feet up for a while.”
Angel watched him go to swing their daughter. She was truly blessed. The power she now had was to live, love, have children and grow old. She had a soul, and when she once again entered the Eternity, she would wait for him and they would journey together. But she was certain that was not going to be for years to come. She had children to raise, grandchildren to spoil and a husband to love.
She sat with a sigh, raising her face to the soft, warm spring sunshine. This baby would be a summer baby. She’d already picked a name. Jonah; it meant Peace. Having this, a husband, a child and a new blessing growing inside her — this was more than she could ever imagine possible. Eternity couldn’t compare to this type of happiness.
Her gaze was drawn to the rosebush at her left. The flowers had budded and were opening to drink in the warmth of the new season. One flower was drooping, the yellow petals curling and browned.
She touched the petals, imagining their brilliance and natural glory. The burned brown disappeared, replaced with the buttercup yellow of the rest of the buds, the drooping petals perked upwards, plump and shapely. She withdrew her finger, happy that the flower was among its beautiful sisters. She breathed in, enjoying the subtle scent.
“There now. That’s much better,” she murmured. She smiled as she turned to watch and enjoy her husband swinging her precious daughter on the swing. It was worth fighting for this blessing.
About the Author
I live in Upwey, a very leafy suburb of outer Melbourne. I can hear most Melbournians say, where? Think Puffing Billy, the hills and inexcusably steep driveways and you’re there. We have a house with room fo
r the kids to play in the backyard, the cat to sleep wherever and the husband to have his back shed — well actually, the shed is more like the storeroom, but let’s not go there.
I write romance because I love thinking how people fall in love. It appeals to my heart and gives me pleasure. I hope this story gives you pleasure also. Everyone needs a little romance to take them away.
Learn more about Charmaine Ross at www.charmaineross.com
A Sneak Peek from Crimson Romance
(From Forever and Ever, Amen)
Between her ex and her job and her teenagers, there weren’t many chances for fun in Molly’s life. The one guaranteed bright spot was Friday Happy Hour with her best friend Sam, when they met at Coopers, the kind of place where it was too dark to see the dirt. The bartenders played ‘80s music, which helped them pretend they were back in college as they rocked out to the B52s or Pat Benatar.
Over the years they’d come to an understanding. Molly knew what it cost Sam to balance her kids, her husband and her work, and Sam knew all about Ford. Or as much as Molly was willing to tell her.
But this week they made an exception. They planned to meet at The Mystic, the new “it” restaurant in town. It was a spare and modern place that still managed to be comfortable, though their fellow diners were mostly young and beautiful, which made Molly feel old and — well, old. The floor was polished concrete and the furnishings had an industrial look that was softened with velvet cushions. The first cocktail Molly ordered had lavender liqueur in it, and the little pupu plates on the menu combined small bites with lush sauces and truffle oil that looked more like art than food.
“So did Diana torture you today?” Sam usually started off with a question about work so Molly could get it off her chest. Molly was the human resources manager for a medium-sized medical supply company, and Sam job-shared a project manager position for a graphics firm. Part-time work was a concession to having four kids, although her lawyer husband earned enough that she didn’t really need to work at all.
“No, thank God. She took the afternoon off so I actually got some stuff done.” The waiter brought their appetizer — tiny tarts filled with a deep orange substance that the menu called tomato foam and topped with a swirl of brilliant green pesto.
“What was she on about this week?” Sam asked.
“The usual. She’s all hot to get the Dallas scores up, to show that we have happy employees.” Molly shrugged. “I figure if we pay them, they ought to be happy.”
Sam smiled, giving Molly another opportunity to envy her lovely coral lips and the faint brush of peach on her cheekbones. Sam always wore makeup. They’d been sisters at Chi Omega and stayed friends after college. Sam’s straight, fawn-colored hair was usually pulled back in a ponytail, although once or twice Molly had seen it down. She’d never seen her without the lipstick, which Sam treated like a religious ritual. “Diana must get a bonus if you raise the scores.”
“Good for her. She rides me like a pony and then she gets the money.” Molly tipped her head up to catch the waiter’s eye. “I think I need one more.”
Sam picked up the drink menu. It was printed on heavy cardstock with a hand scrawled list of fancy cocktails. “Maybe the bartender makes it up as he goes along,” she said, thinking out loud as she scanned it. “Let’s try the one called Satan’s Whiskers.”
Molly, too, scanned the menu. “I’m not sure what gin and Satan have in common, but okay.”
While they waited for their drinks, Sam brought up one of her favorite topics. “So, you hate your job, right?”
“Come on, Sam, I know where this is going.”
“And your husband is in the 35 percent tax bracket, right?”
“Knock it off.” Molly stared out the window, shutting her friend out. This conversation was more of a rhetorical exercise, an area they’d basically agreed to disagree on. That didn’t stop Sam from bringing it up every week.
The glare from the headlights on First Avenue turned the big windows into mirrors. Molly could see a slice of herself perched like a bird between the young and trendy diners that surrounded them. Her short curly hair had dried right for a change, and she wore a tailored black suit softened by the green silk of her blouse, a color chosen to play up her bright blue eyes. If it had really been a mirror, she would have picked over the crow’s-feet and scattered gray in her curls. Instead, she waited for Sam to get to the end of her lecture.
“Quit dodging. File already.”
“I’m not dodging.” Molly met Sam’s gaze head-on. “Ford owns the courtroom.”
“He wouldn’t dare mess with you. It’d be too easy to dig up dirt on him. And fuck it, sometimes you need to stand up to the things that scare you.”
Hearing the F-bomb drop from Sam’s perfect lips always made Molly smile. “Sky down, girlfriend. It’s not worth it.”
“Right. Whatever.”
Sam sounded distracted, which was surprising. Usually she was good for several more rounds of the “you really need to file” game. Sam was the only one who knew that Molly and Ford’s “divorce” was more of an informal separation, a gentleman’s agreement, and Molly planned to keep it that way.
She noticed her friend staring at something across the room and figured talking about her kids would bring her back. “Is Patrice working on an application for St. Boniface?”
“Later. Don’t turn around.” Sam spoke through her teeth and smiled at the waiter as he passed them their drinks. Molly’s head twitched in the direction Sam was staring, because that’s what happened whenever someone told her not to turn around. “Don’t,” Sam hissed.
“What is it that I’m not supposed to be looking at?” Molly asked as she took a sip of Satan’s Whiskers. The citrusy gin cocktail wasn’t all that strong, or else the first one was already getting to her.
“There’s a guy at the bar and he’s been checking you out since we got here.”
“Doubtful. I’m not that interesting.” Molly leaned back and laughed. “We’re the wrong generation for that kind of action here.”
“He’s worked himself up to smiling. I’m going to go bring him over.” Sam half stood in her chair.
“Ah, hello, mother of four and happily married.”
“Not for me, for you. You ain’t got nothing a good lay won’t cure.” Grinning at her own joke, Sam headed toward the bar.
“Spoken like a woman who’s given birth four times,” Molly said to herself. She slowly turned around to see where her friend was going. Sam’s camel-colored wool slacks retained a knife pleat down the back, as if they’d just come from the dry cleaners, and her creamy silk blouse was barely wrinkled.
Molly had envied Sam’s polish since she was nineteen years old. With Sam’s curves, all it took to change her tailored daytime vibe to something more sophisticated was to unbutton the top couple buttons on her blouse. Molly watched Sam approach the man at the bar. When she turned around those two buttons were undone.
Sam played it up by laughing, chin up and shoulders back so he could get a glimpse down her cleavage. After a couple minutes, she led the guy toward their table. He looked smooth, as if he crossed the bar to meet strange women all the time. His caramel skin, black hair and dark lashes suggested he was from the Middle East somewhere — maybe India — and he wore a deep red turtleneck with jeans and a leather jacket.
“Molly, this is … oh, I’m so embarrassed. What did you say your name was?” A blush bloomed under Sam’s Perfect Peach makeup.
“So pleased to meet you, Molly.” He took her hands and planted an air kiss near it. At Sam’s invitation, he joined them at their table.
Tall and dark had always been Molly’s type, and as the stranger settled into the chair next to her, Molly felt her eyes open just a bit wider and her breath get short. It was uncomfortably close to the way Ford made her feel.
“Y
ou ladies are unaccompanied,” the stranger said. His voice sounded like it had been rubbed by steel wool.
“That’s a three dollar word for Girls Night Out,” Sam laughed.
Molly sat there with a ruler running up her spine and a foolish grin. She watched Sam elegantly swirl the remains of her Satan’s Whiskers cocktail. Sam had always been the boy-magnet.
“May I buy you another?” The stranger gestured at Sam’s glass.
“Actually, my, uh, nanny just texted me.” Sam tossed off the rest of her drink. “I’ve got to go home and deal with a science project that’s gone awry.”
“Is everybody okay?” Molly was like an aunt to Sam’s kids, and their constant escapades left her with a mix of humor and worry, though in this instance she suspected there was no real problem at home.
Sam pushed away from the table. “Only a little blood. Sorry to bag on you, Mol. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
And that quickly she was gone, leaving the slightly tipsy Molly with a strange guy in an unfamiliar setting. Molly was still deciding how to proceed when the stranger leaned in closer. His scent, a rich mix of aftershave and MAN, in capital letters, sparked something down below her belly button.
Molly shifted in her chair, looking for some breathing room. He was a little intimidating, and not just because he was so much taller than her. “What did you say your name was, again?”
“Where’s your husband?”
This time she edged the chair away. “I asked you first.”
He laughed, a mellow sound compared with the gruffness of his voice. Molly’s spine softened.
“Okay, well, since you’re being secretive, I won’t tell you where my husband is, either.” Molly reached for her drink, hoping her hand was steady enough not to spill.
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