by C. S. Wilde
“No wonder Archangels hate you,” Ava murmured to herself. “Michael was incredibly powerful, and one of the Sword’s most trusted angels. Some say he began his eternal sleep, others say a demon killed him.”
“You’ve met him?”
“No,” she said shyly. “Third-tiers don’t interact with second-tiers, asides from our direct supervisors, that is.”
“So most of you report to ascended angels.” He frowned. “But you work with the Messenger, and he’s way above a second-tier.”
“The only exception to the rule, yes. It’s Ezra’s way of defying a directive he’s not particularly fond of,” she said with a soft smile. “In any case, Michael’s tales of greatness have been shared through all of the Order’s halls. Information has a way of slipping through marble and concrete, I suppose.”
“Well, it’s my sword, and that’s all there is to it.”
A thought burst in her mind, words of pure sacrilege, words that made her stomach churn and bile surge at the back of her throat. Perhaps, it wasn’t the problem with the In-Betweens that had caused Archie’s death. Perhaps, obtaining Michael’s sword, aligned with an angry Archangel …
She chided herself. An angel would never harm a brother. Or a human.
Liam pointed his sword at her. “Attack.”
Conversation time was over.
She rushed toward him, a scream ripping through her throat. Liam blocked her as effortlessly as blocking a child. Then he charged.
Ava knew her stance was filled with breaches, so he would easily break through. Liam had already turned his sword in his grip so the hilt and not the blade pointed at her—a tactic to cause minimal damage.
His victory was imminent. As if on instinct, Ava’s essence flooded through her, hardening on her skin, and when Liam slammed the hilt against her ribs with a hollow thump, it felt like a tickle and nothing more.
“No shields,” Liam grumbled as he stepped back.
“But—”
“From what I heard, Guardians can’t keep shields for long. Which means you can’t rely on them, not with your life.”
As much as she hated admitting it, he was right.
Ava forced her shield back into her core, then quickly charged at him, hoping the surprise would grant her a victory.
It didn’t.
He fought with one hand, the other behind his back in a very gentleman-like manner. Every time Ava spotted an opening in his stance, Liam closed it at the last minute.
He was clearly teasing her.
Ava’s blade met his again and again. The shrieking sound of metal hitting metal screamed through the room.
“You can do better than that,” he said, a provocation hidden in his words.
He was using one.damned.hand. An offense, really, which only fueled her rage.
Soon the clang, clang, clang of their blades was all Ava could hear, and although her arms hurt and her sword felt as heavy as iron and stone, Liam hadn’t shed a drop of sweat.
One. Blasted. Hand.
She attacked again, but Liam turned at the last minute and elbowed her spine, thus smacking her belly on the floor.
Air flushed out of Ava’s lungs and she coughed, bile pushing to come out.
“Again,” Liam ordered, showing her no mercy.
Ava took a deep breath, centering her mind—and her stomach. She forced herself up and charged, again and again.
Liam must’ve been holding back before. Now his attacks penetrated all her defenses. Ava lost count of the times she ended up breathless on the ground, but she never took his hand or asked him to go easy on her—either out of principle or pride. Perhaps both.
Her entire body hurt, even her bones. The hilt of his sword had hit her nonstop like a wrecking ball. Her skin felt sore in certain spots, which meant she’d be peppered by purple blotches later. Mementos of their first lesson.
“Don’t worry; I’ll get Kev to help with those,” he said, reading the winces of pain in her face.
“I’m fine,” she countered before charging again.
For the umpteenth time, Liam swiveled right before Ava attacked, but she found an opening in his moves, a glorious gods-sent opening.
She lowered her sword and hit a punch on his left ribcage, which sent him a step back. She followed up with a kick in the stomach, and then punched him beautifully in his face.
Liam spiraled on his axis, but he didn’t lose his balance.
“Good,” he grumbled once he steadied, a hand brushing his jaw. “But you need to use your sword, woman.”
Woman this time. Not princess.
Ava blinked, only now realizing she hadn’t used Ezra’s weapon. She strengthened her grip on the sword, and the weapon pulsed in the way of a beating heart, spreading warmth into her body.
She must be getting tired, and they should probably stop, but Ava had tasted victory and needed more. So she acquired an attack stance and grinned, an invitation for Liam to come and play.
He licked his lips and charged, but much to her own surprise, Ava blocked him beautifully. He kept going at her, but she blocked every single strike, clang, clang, clang.
Heavens, it was as if a door inside her had unlocked; Ava couldn’t explain how or why. But all too soon, it was over. She felt the opening in her stance, knowing she wouldn’t recover in time. That unmerciful hilt stabbed at her stomach, and the impact drew all her breath out, making her bend over. Liam elbowed her back, slamming her belly to the ground. Again.
She grunted in frustration as she rolled over and lied on her back, her chest heaving up and down.
Sweat coated her body, but it also coated his. The roots of Liam’s hair were peppered with sweat, his black shirt glued against his skin.
He pointed his sword at her, his breathing ragged. “That was pretty good, princess.”
“Stop calling me that,” she groaned, then flung her sword against his in an arch, sending both weapons clanging against the ground to her left.
Liam glared at the weapons, but Ava wasn’t done. She opened and closed her legs in a scissor shape, tripping him on the floor. She then rolled atop him and pinned both his hands to his sides. “Aha!”
Those clear emerald eyes widened, and his tantalizing lips opened in a surprised smile.
Only now did Ava realize that she sat astride Liam, his entire body hard and sweaty against hers. His scent, that marvelous oaky fragrance so natural to him, burst from his every pore.
His Adam’s apple went up and down as he stared at her. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”
Liam’s gaze burned and trapped Ava at the same time. She couldn’t break free; his attention was a physical thing that kept her there just as she was. The urge to do things she hadn’t done in a hundred years surged inside, but she forced it back down.
Heavens, what’s happening?
Liam must’ve sensed her distraction, because he pushed Ava up with his waist and rolled over her, pinning her on the ground and trapping her arms above her head with one strong hand.
He grinned at her victoriously. Normally this would annoy Ava, but all she felt was his strong body perfectly fitted against hers, as if they were two pieces of a puzzle. Desire swam up and down inside her, an electric current that charged all the parts Ava tried to ignore.
Liam looked down at her chest and swallowed, then focused on her lips. “This position suits you,” he croaked.
Her throat dried. “I preferred being on top.” She flushed at the double meaning of her words. “I-I didn’t mean—”
She did, but he didn’t need to know.
His nose was inches from hers now, his dark hair falling over his forehead. “You did well today. Needs to be better, but good for a first time.”
“Why, thank you,” she said with pride, but halted at the strong musky scent that now drowned her.
Ava’s reasoning slipped away as she sniffed the curve of his neck.
He growled inwardly. “You like?” His voice was a sensual murmur that set
Ava ablaze.
“Hmm.” She stared at him intently, taken by a delirious trance, her lips half open, inviting, begging.
She had felt this urge before with Ezra, the unyielding pull, but it had never been so strong, and Ava had always managed to control it.
This … this was different. Liam’s green eyes devoured her, made her forget who she was. Her hard nipples grazed the fabric of her bodysuit, a reaction of her body to his. When her nether parts ached for Liam’s touch, Ava knew she’d lost the battle.
He lowered his mouth to hers as his free hand slid atop her left rib, stopping right under her breast, his thumb brushing the fabric ever so slightly.
“Ava,” he muttered, her name a prayer.
When he nibbled her lips, her mind spun. She arched her back, killing any space between them. Call it adrenaline, but something primeval had taken hold of her, and she brushed her crotch against the hardness of his.
He grumbled low in his chest before deepening their kiss, his tongue venturing into her open mouth, consuming her. She replied with hunger, taking in all of him.
Ava freed her hands from Liam’s grip and wrapped her arms around him, trapping him to her, bringing him closer—if that was even possible.
Their breathing grew in unison, fast, shallow, mingling with their feverish moans.
Heavens, Liam was going to take her, and she would let him. The pull between them assured Ava this was meant to be, but a faint voice in the back of her mind told her to stop.
Liam was her charge, and she barely knew him. But Gods help her, Ava couldn’t break free. Within those moments, all she wanted, more than the air she breathed, was him. So she lowered her hands to his belt, ready to unbuckle it.
The hinges of the training room’s door creaked, jolting Ava from whatever spell had taken hold of her.
Liam glared down at her with the same horror she felt, which meant their feverish trance was over for him too.
Heavens, they had almost …
Liam let her go and rolled to the side, then stood up and gave her his hand.
She didn’t take it.
Justine stepped into the room and stared at them, a curious frown creasing her forehead. Then came a mischievous grin. “Was I interrupting?”
Guilt mixed with shame filled Ava as she pushed herself up. She had almost had relations with her charge and partner in a training room. Gods forgive her.
“No, not at all,” Ava said, her tone weak.
Liam turned to Justine, his arms crossed. “You got information for us?”
“For Ava, pretty boy.” Justine winked at him.
“What did you find?” Ava asked, focusing on Justine and trying to ignore Liam’s magnetic presence.
Justine walked closer to them. “Well, the records didn’t have any leads, but I talked to a friend of mine.” By her naughty grin, this friend was less of a friend and more of a lover. “He said that if you want information, your best bet is a guy named Jal.”
Liam ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. “Fuck.”
Ava turned to her partner. “Do you know him?”
“No, but I’ve heard the name.” He shook his head. “Damn it, we’re going to need the Captain’s approval for this.”
“Why?”
“Because Jal is a second-tier demon.”
10
Ava
Once Ava was done showering, Justine handed her a towel and then underwear, followed by a fresh bodysuit and white linen kilt. Thank Heavens for her friend. Ava’s old clothes were damp with sweat.
She took the elevator to the precinct with Justine, but Liam stayed behind to finish his shower and lock the training room. Ava suspected he’d done so because he felt equally ashamed—Gods, Ava’s lips were still swollen from their exchange.
If they couldn’t even be in the same elevator, how could she keep being his Guardian? A chaos of fear and desperation gnawed at her chest. Ava would never forgive herself if her lapse in judgement damaged her relationship with her charge. She had never lost reason in that manner, especially not because of a male—granted, an incredibly handsome one. But Ava wasn’t an animal in heat.
She tapped the empty sheath attached to her belt as the elevator went up. “Oh. I forgot my sword.”
“I’m sure your partner will grab it for you,” Justine said with a naughty grin. “Speaking of which, what happened down there? I mean, don’t get me wrong, thank the Gods you’re not some asexual creature.” She looked up and raised her palms as if in prayer. “But you and Mr. Hunky were really going at it from what I could see.”
Angels could be quite promiscuous—something to do with the raw power coursing their veins—but Ava had never given in to these urges. Her head had always been in the right place, her priorities in check. Until a few moments ago.
She closed her eyes, her fingers brushing her lips. They still tasted like Liam. “I couldn’t pull away from him. His scent was so overpowering. Something in my mind just snapped.”
Justine blew air through her lips. “Sweetie, it’s normal. It’s not like he’s your soulmate; it’s just sex. Also, you haven’t gotten laid in a hundred years. You were bound to explode sometime.” She grabbed Ava’s hand and lowered it. “I just assumed it would be with Ezraphael. Then again, your new partner is a fine specimen.”
Justine’s words didn’t make Ava feel any better, but she appreciated the effort.
As soon as the elevator doors opened to the precinct, Justine’s attention fell on the tall red-haired young man pounding at the keyboard on his desk, his attention fixed on his computer screen.
“Who’s that?” she asked, biting one of her wine-colored nails.
“That’s the precinct’s healer,” Ava said, then dropped her voice to a whisper. “Please don’t get involved with him. Kevin seems to be very important to Liam.”
“You’re one to talk.” She nudged Ava with her elbow before walking to Kevin and giving him her hand.
Kevin immediately scrambled to his feet and kissed the back of Justine’s hand, a goofy grin on his face.
Ava sighed helplessly at the effect her friend had on males—and some females too. She couldn’t recall the last time someone had resisted Justine’s charms.
“Isn’t she a little old for him?” The firm tone of Liam’s voice came from behind Ava’s ear, his breath brushing on her skin.
A shockwave ran down her spine as she turned around to face him. He stood absurdly close, so much that her nose almost bumped against his chest.
The sharp scent of a freshly bathed man invaded her nostrils, waking something in her that was best kept asleep.
He stared down at Ava, his presence, his flesh, all too close to hers. The same force from before pulled her toward him. She cleared her throat and stepped back, fighting as hard as she could.
Liam frowned at her, as if she were a puzzle he couldn’t decipher. Then he handed her Ezra’s sword. She thanked him and sheathed it.
“I’d like to apologize,” she started, but he gently stamped a thumb on her lips. His soft touch vaporized the words on her tongue.
“I’m the one who should be sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what came over me. You’re my partner, Ava, and the only angel who’s willing to help. I …” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “I should’ve never jeopardized that.”
“I can say the same.” She smiled, but something inside her deflated. “I’m happy we cleared the air.”
“Yeah. This type of thing can happen when adrenaline is high,” he said with a confident shrug. “It’s normal.”
Normal? Had this happened before with another woman?
“I suppose it is.”
Just the thought of him being so close to another female sent flames down Ava’s chest. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Perhaps she should visit the Order’s medical department when she had the chance. There must be something wrong with her brain.
She turned back to Justine and Kevin, who talked e
agerly with each other. Justine looked to be in her early thirties, whereas Kevin was at least eight years younger. However, time and age were unimportant for immortals, so why was Liam worried?
Ava observed his concerned frown and finally understood what truly bothered her partner.
“Justine treats her lovers kindly. You have nothing to worry about.” She thought twice. “Well, mostly.”
Liam raised an eyebrow. “Mostly?”
Ava blushed. “Once, I passed by her room in an inopportune occasion and heard sounds of both pain and enjoyment.” She raised her hands. “As long as both parties are happy and safe, I will not judge.”
Liam observed her. “Anyone else would. Angels can be very judgmental. Humans too.”
“Well, I try not to be.”
His attention locked on her lips for a moment, but then he cleared his throat and nodded to the Captain’s office. “Come on.”
Liam knocked on the glass of the closed door. The word “Captain” was engraved in it, but no name came after. Just Captain.
“Enter.” A woman’s voice rang from inside, her tone dry and raging like a sandstorm.
The Captain sat behind a dark wooden table with her feet propped up on her desk, her attention fixed on the open window. The sound of car horns and voices ventured inside, but the Captain didn’t seem to listen as she held a glass filled with amber liquid.
She must’ve been around sixty, and she had short gray hair cut in a military fashion which matched well with the silver embellishments—medals—pinned to her navy suit.
On the wall opposite to the window was a brown leather couch that sat two people, but Ava doubted they’d be using it. Something about Liam’s twitchy manner told her he planned to get in and out quickly.
He walked toward the Captain’s desk. Ava closed the door behind her and followed.
The Captain’s drink stank of whiskey. Ava knew the scent well. Her mother had given her a glass to help cure a cold when she was only fourteen. The whiskey didn’t help—Ava threw up most of it—but back then, the medical sciences weren’t as evolved as today.