Psychic's Spell (Legion of Angels Book 6)

by Ella Summers

  Grinning from ear to ear, Tessa whispered something to Gin. I picked up the words ‘handcuffs’ and ‘playing with angels’. They both laughed.

  I glared at them, but they didn’t cower before my stare. They were used to it. And I didn’t think it would have been fair to put the full force of my magic behind that glare. Though watching their snickering at my expense, I had to admit I was tempted.

  “Let’s go, you comedians. We need to get Leechy over to the sheriff’s station,” Calli told them, prodding their prisoner forward.

  “But we’ll be right back, so no running off,” Tessa added, wiggling her finger at me.

  I could almost see the thoughts of grand parades and color-coordinated parties swirling in her eyes.

  After they’d left, I turned my attention to the festival—and, more specifically, to the delectable scents wafting from the food stands. My tummy rumbled. If I’d been hungry before my little rooftop sprint, I was now positively famished. I looked around for some really unhealthy carnival food, my first choices being onion rings and deep-fried candy bars. They were so delectably, deliciously disgusting. I had to have them.

  But I never made it to the cluster of food stands. Something cast a dark shadow over the festival, rolling in like a storm cloud. Every single person on the ground stopped and stared, a chorus of oohs and aahs rising from the crowd. The shadow shifted, diving.

  An angel landed, his boots kissing the ground in a soft whisper, his wings extended in a perfect heavenly blend of black, blue, and green. Everyone stared at him in awe, mesmerized, completely caught in his spell.

  3

  Archangel's Spell

  The angel was not just any angel. He was General Nero Windstriker, an archangel and my lover.

  Unlike me, Nero was wearing the black leather uniform of the Legion of Angels. Trained from birth to fulfill his destiny of becoming an angel, he didn’t really have a casual and relaxed mode. He was rarely out of uniform. I regularly teased him about that, but right now, as I watched him walk, the admiring crowd parting before him, I couldn’t help but appreciate the sight of him in that uniform.

  The black armor shone—no, glowed—in the light of the setting sun, the smooth leather accentuating every muscle. The soft, deliciously-subtle creak of leather against his hard, unyielding body as he moved was a wicked tease—and a sweet temptation.

  Framed in a halo of sunshine and floodlights, his caramel hair was lit up, sparkling like liquid gold. A ceiling of clouds hung over the carnival—all but a single open patch of sunlight directly over Nero. It looked like a skylight from heaven. He was obviously manipulating the elements to create that effect, to make himself shine. Angels did that when they wanted to inspire awe, respect, or fear.

  And it worked. Every human at the festival was one hundred percent fixated on Nero. They were so enthralled by him that they didn’t realize how unnatural it was for the skylight to move with him, like a spotlight framing an actor on stage.

  A few overly enthusiastic young women were moving toward him. Their eyes wide with appreciation, they took in the sight of his immortal beauty, of his larger-than-life body and his dark, glossy wings. In a few more seconds, they’d throw their panties at him.

  A low snarl tugged back my lips. I felt a rush of heat, of adrenaline-pumping jealousy. All for no reason, I told myself. Nero was mine. I couldn’t tear these women to pieces for looking at him, and I certainly couldn’t blame them. Nero was a sight to behold, as gorgeous as he was deadly.

  But my rational brain was having a hard time reconciling with the dark, deeply possessive instincts of my primal brain. I didn’t like the way they were undressing my angel with their eyes. I could smell the hormonal shift in the air, the thick musk of lust wafting off them.

  “Pandora,” Nero said. My nickname flowed off his lips like a little drop of heaven.

  His eyes met mine, lit up by magic, shining like a forest after a rainfall.

  And then I saw nothing else. No one else. His admirers faded away. Everything faded away except Nero. I moved toward him, as though there were an invisible string between us, an irresistible force drawing me in.

  I stopped in front of him. He lifted his hand and brushed it softly down my face, his touch like a million tiny fireworks going off under my skin. It had been entirely too long since I’d seen him. He’d been away on a mission for weeks.

  Nero didn’t kiss me. He hardly touched me; his hand was as soft as a feather on my cheek. As it dipped lower to trace my neck, my pulse quickened, pounding beneath his fingertips. His eyes dropped to my throat, to my throbbing vein. From the subtle flicker of silver in his eyes, I knew he wanted to drink from my well, to merge our blood and magic. I wanted him too. My blood burning, I wet my lips. I felt myself turning, presenting my neck to him. The silver in his eyes glowed stronger.

  He was close, so close that I could feel his pulse tearing through me, rocking me. The rhythm of my heart synched with his. His hand caught on the strap of my halter top, lingering there for a moment. I arched toward him, an invitation. And a demand.

  But he stepped back. “I saw what happened with that bounty hunter.”

  There was no reprimand in his voice. There was only amusement, as well as a little pride. After all, he’d been the one to teach me how to make the Legion’s rules work to my advantage.

  The thought of Jinx was enough to snap me out of my daze. I was suddenly very self-conscious about the scene we were making—and even more so, about all the eyes trained on us. No, on Nero. The whole crowd was frozen, bewitched by the angel in their midst. And I’d been bewitched right along with them. I gave myself a mental slap for getting so caught up in Nero’s aura. It’s just that he was such a beautiful diversion.

  “You are beautiful,” he told me, his hand tracing down my throat. He caught the end of my braid between his fingers. He spoke the next bit, low, intimate, the words only for me. “And your hair is glowing.”

  Damn it. My hair had always been somewhat of a nuisance. Back before I’d had magic, it used to glow just a little, enough to mesmerize vampires. I’d never figured out why it did that. To be honest, it wasn’t a great superpower. It meant I couldn’t stay around a vampire for too long before he inevitably tried to open up my throat and drain me dead.

  But since I’d joined the Legion, since I’d drunk the gods’ Nectar and gained their gifts of magic, things were changing. I was changing. And my hair was changing right along with me. It glowed brighter now, the pale blonde changing pink, blue, and any number of other colors. It did that when I used too much magic or my emotions were running hot. It wasn’t hard to guess which one was the culprit this time.

  In the last year, I’d learned to control my thoughts better, to hide them. Angels were telepathic, after all. But my hair didn’t hide anything. It changed to show exactly how I was feeling, like a mood ring, a window into my soul. Nero liked it. He’d learned to read the colors and glow, to gauge what I was feeling from the tone of my hair.

  “Your hair is beautiful, Leda,” he told me. “But you need to calm it. You need to make it go back to normal.”

  I swallowed hard, even as my face flushed hot with embarrassment. He was right. I was making a complete fool of myself.

  “You’re not making a fool of yourself,” he said. “You’re mesmerizing everyone. And if you don’t dim your halo, I will have to kill those men.”

  I followed his hard glare to a group of men gawking at me, their eyes dilated wide. They were entranced. That was my siren magic at work. Humans had no resistance to it. I hadn’t even realized that I was projecting my mood, that I’d dipped into my magic.

  “You can’t kill people for how they’re looking at me,” I told Nero.

  Nero gave me a pitiless look that said he could and would do just that.

  “There are rules,” I said. “You can’t attack humans who aren’t a threat to the gods’ order.”

  Nero was unrelenting. “As you just demonstrated, I can attack them if th
ey attack me first.”

  “You fight dirty, General Windstriker.”

  “You’re rubbing off on me,” he replied, his words loaded with wicked intentions.

  My thighs clenched at the rush of heat that crashed over me. Cruel, hard reality hit me like a train: there was too much space between us, too much clothing. Even though every fiber of my being, every cell in me, every instinct, was screaming at me in desperation to do something about that, I stayed perfectly still. I held my hands at my sides as what precious little remained of my rational brain tried to put the reins on the impatient, insatiable nymphomaniac who’d taken hold of me.

  Nero leaned in closer. “Pandora, if you don’t tone down your magic, I can’t be held responsible for the consequences.”

  His voice was deep and dangerous, teetering on the edge of civilization, between man and beast. I was sorely tempted to not tone down my magic, to not get it under control. Just to see how long he would hold out—and what would happen when the dam of his self-control finally broke.

  But that would be irresponsible with all these humans here, not to mention unprofessional. So I concentrated and reeled in my siren magic, retracting the invisible tendrils of enchantment that had wound around the crowd. Of course, Nero wasn’t making it easy, not with the way he was looking at me. Putting away my magic felt wrong, unnatural, like the rub of sandpaper on raw flesh, but I clenched my teeth and bore it. I took several long, deep breaths, and the light in my hair went out.

  “Now come with me,” Nero said.

  I followed him away from the crowds, behind a row of buildings to a quiet street. There wasn’t another soul in sight. By the time we’d walked a few blocks, the carnival music started up again, conversations resumed, and the clinks and clanks of the games were more numerous than ever. It was as though Nero’s arrival had never happened. Had he wiped the memory from everyone’s mind?

  We reached the end of the street. He turned to face me and just waited.

  I folded my arms across my chest. “I am not having sex with you in a dark alley.”

  “Your thoughts say otherwise,” he said in a silky voice.

  “I do have some shame.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes,” I said defiantly.

  His hand darted out, and my breath caught in anticipation. An easy, arrogant smile twisted his lips as he plucked a leaf out of my hair.

  “You didn’t feel that way back in New York,” he said. His hand was on my back now, stroking it gently.

  My face went hot at the memory of us having sex in a dark alley. “Ok,” I admitted. “You’ve got me. I have no shame.”

  At least not when it came to Nero. The moment he’d landed at the festival, I realized how desperately I’d missed him.

  Responding to my thoughts, he told me, “I missed you too.” He dipped his mouth to my neck, kissing me softly. “I could see only you in the crowd of hundreds.” His mouth paused before mine. “You are a light that blinded me to all else, that outshone everything, making it all fall away and disappear into the shadows.”

  I smiled, basking in the light of his words, lapping up every seductive syllable.

  “I’ve been dreaming of you,” he told me.

  “I’ve been dreaming of you too.” Heat blossomed in my core at the memory of what we’d done in those dreams.

  “We’re connected,” he said. “Our magic, our minds, our bodies are drawn together, wishing to be one. Always. In sleep, my mind reached out to you, calling you to me.”

  And I’d come. Again and again, night after night, my mind had found him. In our dreams, we’d been free. Free from the Legion, free from the gods, free from humanity.

  “Without borders or boundaries, no propriety, no rules,” he added to my thoughts. “Connected by love, driven by passion.”

  His words were intoxicating. It was too easy to get caught up in them.

  I cleared my throat. “What’s brought you to Purgatory, General? Chasing down rogues and thieves for the First Angel?”

  Nero was Nyx’s second, the number two in the Legion of Angels. There were other archangels, but she trusted him the most. His work for her, all those trips all over the world, kept him busy. It felt like he was away more than he was home.

  “No, I didn’t come here for Nyx. I came here for you.” He didn’t sound amused by my joke. “I came home to find you weren’t there.”

  Nero and I lived together in an apartment in New York’s Legion of Angels office, where I worked.

  “I left you a note,” I said.

  “I didn’t want a note.” His voice was almost a growl. “I wanted you.”

  If I hadn’t known better, I would have called the expression on his face a pout.

  “What’s the matter? Was there no one to torture in training?” I teased him.

  Training with Nero was torture. You gave it your all, and if you somehow managed to be on your feet at the end, he made you go again, declaring if you could still stand, you hadn’t trained hard enough. Of course, if you weren’t still standing, you also hadn’t tried hard enough, and he made you keep going anyway. That was Nero Windstriker in a nutshell. Nero loved me and was only trying to make me stronger, so I could level up my magic. I tried to remember that when I was cursing his name in training.

  Nero leaned in and growled against my lips, “Are you mocking me, Pandora?”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “Didn’t anyone ever tell you how dangerous it is to incite an angel?”

  My heart skipped as his hands closed around my shoulders. Smirking through my racing pulse, I said, “I seem to remember a certain self-serving angel lecturing me about that.”

  “Self-serving?” he repeated.

  I nodded. “Very.”

  “Sometimes, Pandora, I don’t think you know what’s good for you.”

  “You are good for me,” I said, looping my arms over his shoulders.

  “No one in their right mind would fall in love with an angel.”

  “Being in your right mind is completely overrated.” I took his hand in mine, giving it a squeeze. Then I met his eyes and said seriously, “Being right in the heart is much more important.”

  I leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Tempting as seven minutes in heaven with Nero was, I needed to go find Calli and my sisters. They would be back from dropping off the Leech soon. And frankly, I didn’t think seven minutes was nearly enough time. Sex with Nero was not a quick once-off. It was a long, savoring affair.

  I started walking back to the carnival, giving my hips a good sway. I threw a glance over my shoulder at Nero. “You coming?”

  Nero didn’t follow me. He was just suddenly right beside me, as though he’d materialized there. Man, he moved fast.

  As we walked, Nero didn’t hold my hand—that wasn’t very Legion-like—but he did glare at any man who dared to glance my way. I knew I should have felt bad for the poor guys, but I didn’t. I liked that I belonged to Nero and that he belonged to me. Besides, I might have given the panty-throwing women a glare or two of my own.

  I scanned the crowd for my family, but they were nowhere in sight. They must have still been processing the Leech at the sheriff’s station.

  A cloud of pink fluff attracted my attention. I cut over to a nearby food booth and bought the biggest bundle of cotton candy that they had. Then I handed it to Nero with a smile.

  He looked down at the big fluffy bundle of pink cotton candy in his hands, completely perplexed. And so adorable.

  “It’s cotton candy,” I said helpfully.

  “I know what it is. The question is, Pandora, what is it doing in my possession?”

  “Even angels have to eat. And what’s better than something light, fluffy, and sweet? Just like an angel.”

  The look he gave me promised his revenge would be far sweeter. I almost shuddered thinking about our next training session. And yet it was so worth it. Nero was a very elegant, very proper guy. He’d been groomed to be an angel sin
ce he was born. Seeing him hold a bundle of pink cotton candy was priceless. I took out my phone and snapped a photo for posterity.

  “I’ve killed people for less than this,” he grumbled, low. I wasn’t sure I was supposed to hear it.

  I tore a piece off the cotton candy and ate it. “Oh, come on. You’ll want something to show your kids someday to prove you’re a fun, approachable kind of guy.”

  He said nothing. The annoyance in his eyes went out. His face was completely blank.

  I guess I’d hit a nerve, pushing him too far. You never knew with angels. One moment you were handing them cotton candy and the next they were chaining you to an interrogation chair. Time to move on.

  “Let’s check out the games,” I said quickly. “Maybe my family is there.”

  We walked in silence toward the flashing epicenter of the carnival, its highlight the gigantic, flashing, multi-deck carrousel. His silence was even more pronounced by its contrast to the cheesy, upbeat music.

  Finally, as we passed the dunk tank, he broke that silence. “Angels don’t typically endeavor to be fun and approachable.”

  I smiled. “Of course not. Quite the opposite, actually. The Legion puts angels on a pedestal, above everyone else. You are supposed to be unattainable, perfect, professional. And mercilessly lethal. Let’s not forget that one.”

  I wasn’t being facetious. Not this time. I was dead serious. Nero was all those things. But he was also more. Much more.

  “We angels can’t afford to show weakness. Not even to our children. For those of us who have them,” he added. His voice was clinical, detached.

  Something compelled me to ask, “Do you want children?”

  He met my eyes. “Yes.”

  I blinked, turning away from the intensity of that emerald stare. Yet I could still feel him watching me, the weight of his eyes burning into me, as I scanned the game booths.

  “Want to give it a try?” I indicated a tower of tin cans you had to topple by throwing a ball at them.