Angels and Demons

by A. C. Bextor

  There’s a good kind? Great. Maybe there is and I’ve ruined my chances of finding out.

  Shit.

  Defending my honor, I raise my voice to point out, “Everyone was standing around! You all saw them. Leglas and Gypsy were going to kill each other.”

  “No, Mia,” she punishes, her tone matter-of-fact. “They weren’t even close. Leglas and Gypsy have been at each other’s throats before. Many times. They’re brothers, and so far, they’ve managed to handle themselves out of situations like this. But a woman stepping into their space, the way you did, you added fuel to an already burning fire, and well…” She trails off, sucking in her lips, closing her eyes, and without uttering a single a word, managing to shame me further.

  Take your hands to her like that again, and I’ll cut your fuckin’ throat, Gypsy had said.

  All this started in passing. Leglas grabbed Cricket as we all walked by. Doing as I’ve seen him do before, he fisted her hair and went in for a carnal kiss. The kiss was brutal, marking, and those near didn’t miss Cricket’s whimper. Of pain, maybe. In the throes of ecstasy, I don’t know.

  It didn’t matter.

  Everything escalated quickly as Gypsy stepped in, grabbing her from Leglas, and shoving her to the side. The two started their verbal battle and there was no turning back.

  The door to my room opens and a very pissed-off Sty enters. My room is small, the smallest I’ve seen in this building by far. His presence shrouds the area—tensing it more than I thought possible.

  Do it, brother. Give me a fuckin’ reason to end your pain, Leglas had returned.

  Sty takes in the damage to my face. He grinds his jaw; then swiftly turns focus to Sunny.

  “Sun,” he calls tersely. “Finish up. I need to get the fuck outta here.”

  “I’m sorry,” I tell Sty. His jaw continues to clench but now his eyes narrow.

  “You fucked up. You took a scene that hadn’t started, and started it. Coulda’ got your fuckin’ head kicked in. Had that happened, you coulda’ made it worse between the brothers than it already was. Be glad you didn’t do either. But don’t fuckin’ apologize to me, Mia. Unless you figured somethin’ out with all of this, and you promise to do better next time, your words are just words. And I have no time to stand around here listenin’ to them.”

  Ouch.

  With the scolding, I turn away, looking out the dark window of my room, and wondering how far I could survive if I escaped into the night alone.

  “I’ll check in on you later, honey,” Sunny promises, grabbing my chin and turning it toward her. She surveys the damage and tsks mildly on another headshake. “That beautiful face is gonna have a helluva shiner come morning.”

  Lowering my voice, I say to only her, “I really am sorry.”

  Sunny smiles but it’s trivial. A second of understanding passes between us before she releases my chin, turns in place, and reaches out to accept Sty’s proffered hand.

  You don’t want her, Gypsy. You made that fuckin’ clear. She’s mine now and the thought burns you to your core.

  I’m not alone but a few minutes when I glance up to see Elevent’s large frame standing still and quiet outside my door.

  His hands are balled to fists, held firmly at his sides. His hair is disheveled, as if he ran his hands through it again and again in frustration. There’s blood on his shirt and his jeans are dirty.

  His facial expression is ominous.

  He steps in, one foot then another, slamming the door behind him with such force the picture frames on the walls shake. I don’t utter a word or make a single motion to move.

  Unadulterated fear holds me in place.

  Extending his arm, he reaches a hand toward me and I immediately pull away. His eyes burn in unrestrained fury but he powers through. He wraps his fingers around my wrist, shoving my hand from my face, thus moving the ice away. He doesn’t do this carefully. The ice pack flies out of my hand—the clear plastic bag opens, sending ice pellets spilling out against the wall and onto the floor.

  Looking at the mess, I start, “Hey! I needed—”

  Bending at the waist, he draws his face in close and doesn’t scream, doesn’t yell, but instead he roars, “What the fuck were you thinking?”

  Caged in the midst of his ire, my body jerks back so hard my feet lift from the floor. I pull myself from his infuriated nearness, scooting as far back on the bed as I can. My back slams against the wall with such force, the pain in my face radiates further.

  I wince but manage to swallow a groan.

  Elevent looks down to study the floor and takes in a heavy breath.

  “Christ,” he hisses, turning around where he stands.

  “Please leave,” I demand evenly, my voice so broken I hardly recognize it as my own. “I want to be alone.”

  Turning around, Elevent levels me with a look I’ve never seen for anyone.

  He doesn’t say anything, but he also doesn’t move.

  Unsteadily, I make a start to move from the bed, but I’m stopped as his voice bitterly breaks out, “What the fuck possessed you to step in what could’ve been a live boxing ring, thinking you had the power to settle an argument like that between pissed-off men?”

  Stupid question, I think but don’t say. My intentions were good, as I’ve already reasoned.

  “I didn’t…”

  “Have you not been watching?”

  What?

  Shaking my head, again I start to move.

  “This is not your life, Angel. This is not where you came from.”

  “Are you sure?” I jab back, my own anger starting to brew.

  “Any idea what could’ve happened to you out here?”

  “Yes, Elevent,” I reply, gaining ground on exactly how pissed off I am, all while reliving what Sty had not so calmly mentioned. “But as you can see for yourself, I’m fine.”

  Elevent leans in, his eyes alight with renewed fury.

  He states, “Nice. Fucking. Shiner.”

  Sure, before I’d been scared. I’d been terrified. But now, being made to feel foolish for not wanting Gypsy’s beautiful face shredded to bits and pieces, I’m growing annoyed to the point of irate.

  “Tell me what you think you were doing,” he demands. “Explain it because for-fucking-real, I do not understand what the fuck was going through that head of yours.”

  Finally, I move. But I do this in my own space, not his.

  Standing on the bed, yes standing on the bed, I throw my hands to my hips and release what I know deep in my soul is my truth.

  “I don’t live in this world, Elevent,” I sneer, making the most obvious point first. “I don’t speak biker. I don’t thrive in an environment where the men are such assholes they sleep with random women, passing them off to the next when they’re done playing with them. Where I come from, there’s not loud music playing all hours of the night. I don’t communicate with fists, and I don’t treat outsiders like they’re blazingly blind idiots!”

  As the power of my statement subsides, I notice Elevent’s anger is diminishing as well. His hands are still braced to his hips, but the edges of his mouth are turned up at the ends.

  He thinks this shit is funny. It is absolutely not.

  Jumping from the bed, thankfully landing on both feet as to not dissuade my dramatics, I lean my upper body into him and continue. “I live in a world where a tip jar is customary, not used as a tool to torment a stranger. My life is not perfect.” Pointing my finger to my chest, ignoring the renewed gush of pain settling in my cheek, I add, “I’ve done bad things. Bad, bad things. Not that you’ve ever cared to ask anything about me. But in my world, people make mistakes. They make them, apologize, and move on.”

  The slight humor Elevent found before has now become fully-fledged. He’s outright smiling. And he’s smug while doing it.

  Jerk.

  Prevailing to get my point across so he can go, I continue on, but do it with less the dramatic show. “I’m sorry for what I did. Maybe y
ou think I shouldn’t have interfered. However, I’ll note, if I were to see it again, and I thought for a second I could help a man not maim and kill another man, just fair warning, I’m doing it again.”

  “You finished?” he clips, quickly looking down, studying his boots. His fingers draw to his face where he squeezes his bottom lip to hide a smile.

  That stupid freaking smile.

  “I see I’ve humored you,” I snap hauntingly, crossing my arms over my chest. “But I don’t find any of this amusing.”

  “Are you sure?” he asks, mocking my previous slam and looking up with eyes bright.

  Goddamn him.

  “Yes, I’m sure. Now, if you’d please leave, I have a headache.”

  “You should have a headache, Angel,” he returns quickly. “A fuckin’ big one, because you are the headache.”

  If the wound to my cheek and eye socket weren’t writhing in pain, I’d roll my eyes. Instead, I turn to walk toward the bed. I’m caught with an arm around my waist. Elevent brings me in, settling my back to his chest. His large hand splays across my waist, his other reaches down, grabs my hand and brings it to my chest, effectively pinning me to him with no chance for escape.

  “Let me go,” I calmly demand.

  “There was so much fucked up with all you said, Angel,” he starts, his voice sweet and also amused.

  Again. This is not funny.

  “But again, with you, we’ll tackle this shit one problem at a time.”

  “We don’t have to tackle anything. Get out of my room, and I’ll be out of your way.”

  “That’s sure as shit’s not gonna happen.”

  Remaining still and quiet, I attempt the silent treatment. This worked for Toby, on the rare occasion he’d piss me off. Also, it worked for Myra on the not so rare occasion that she did. No one wanted me pissed off, not because my anger took a turn and I acted on it like I just did, but because my friends and family always knew that if I was quiet, I was serious.

  So, to void lashing out, I bite my bottom lip.

  Clearly Elevent isn’t a big on silence because it’s him who fills it.

  “You like Gypsy,” he starts. “You care about him, so I get why you did what you did.”

  Well, that’s something.

  “But don’t ever do that shit again,” he tells me, shaking me in his hold.

  I stare out the window no longer seeing the darkness, but catching Elevent and my reflection in the glass pane. He doesn’t see what I do, so he continues and I watch as his face grows soft, leaning his chin to my shoulder.

  “I was standin’ right there. Not ten feet away. I watched you go down,” he tells me. “I know the power behind Leglas’ punch. And Gypsy’s no cheap shot either.”

  “Well, as you can see, I’m fine,” I tell him, snottily.

  “Luckily,” he counters. “This time.”

  “I’m really tired,” I try again.

  But my plea is for naught, as he tightens his hold. “You’re right about one thing,” he says. “You don’t live in this world. And fuck, as much as I’d like to tell you that you fit in, you don’t and never will.”

  Truth in his statement or not, that acknowledgement kind of hurts.

  “We’re loud. We’re obnoxious. And again, you’re right. We don’t treat all women here the way you think they deserve.”

  “No, you don’t,” I hastily agree.

  Shaking me again, he adds, “But those women, who you say we pass around, they don’t mind.”

  How this is truth, I do not know. I do know it’s what he believes.

  “And those who truly matter, we do not pass around.”

  Humph.

  “Sunny for one. She belongs to Sty.”

  I fight an eye roll. Elevent knows my position on this. And still, it’s ridiculous.

  “Cricket’s another. Whether it’s good for either of them or not, she belongs to Leglas.”

  Cricket belongs to that asshole, he means.

  “Advay has a woman but she’s not here.”

  At this, my back straightens. I’ve admired Advay for not partaking in the acts of everyone else. I’ve admired more about him than I care to admit. Namely his beauty and the way he carries himself. Not that I feel prudent to share this.

  “Advay has a woman?”

  “You see him takin’ any one of these women to bed?”

  “No.”

  “Then there it is.”

  Yes, there it is.

  “And you,” he states next, his voice low. I look in the reflection of the mirror, and I’m startled to find Elevent’s staring at me through it. “You’re with me.”

  My stomach flutters, a sliver of belonging borrowing in.

  “I’m not with you,” I tell him.

  A smile comes, this time a genuine no-holds-barred smile. “You’ve been in my bed,” he tells me.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve been inside you.”

  “Crass.”

  “No other man in this place would dare offer you the same.”

  He has a point. Since Elevent and I have been ‘together’, in as much a sense of the word as it means, there hasn’t been a single glance sent my way that was in a word ‘naughty’ in nature. Nothing as it was when I arrived.

  “We’re done talking about this,” I assert.

  “Not yet. Is there anything else you need off your mind?” he questions.

  Losing his eyes in the glass, I look down, mentally ticking all I’d just rambled on about, and feeling ridiculous about standing on the bed as I was. I was lucky I didn’t fall, landing flat on my ass. Or worse, on my already bruised face. That’s a gash to the ego I’m not sure how I’d ever recover from.

  “I think that covers everything.”

  “How were you bad?” he asks and my brows furrow.

  “What?”

  Kissing my neck and semi-releasing his hold, he asks, “You said you’ve done ‘bad, bad’ things.”

  Oh, God. I did say that.

  Shit.

  “I want to know what you’ve done.”

  “I just said that to make a point.”

  Elevent smiles into my neck. His breath warm and heavy, he says, “You don’t just ‘do’ anything. I want to know.”

  Shit and damn.

  “Another time.”

  “Now.”

  Shoving my elbow to his chest, I break away and make toward the bed. He lets me go and I draw the blankets down. Behind me, I hear the slam of Elevent’s boots hitting the floor, one after another.

  I turn. “What are you doing?”

  “Story time,” he answers, grabbing his shirt from the back of his shoulders and lifting it over his head. “You brought bones into the conversation, I covered my share. Time to tell it, Angel.”

  Pointless to argue, and worse yet to deny, one of the things I’ve found most comforting since my stay began: I like sleeping next to Elevent. I enjoy waking in the middle of the night, finding he’s taken me close, holding me tight, and falling back asleep—knowing I’m safe.

  So once he’s divested of his clothes, and we’re settled beneath the covers of my bed, I tell him.

  Everything.

  I explain about a little boy lost in this city, hungry and begging for change. I tell him about how I used to steal from the church pantry, even after Father Marx forbade me to ‘donate’ needed supplies to those in need, unless they agreed to accept the Lord in their hearts.

  When I was finished, Elevent said nothing. I thought he’d fallen asleep until I took my head from his chest and watched him staring at the ceiling.

  “This is why you took to Ziah?” he asks, still not looking at me.

  “I took to Ziah ‘cause he’s Ziah.”

  “Ziah was lost before. Just like what you described.”

  “I didn’t know that when I met him.”

  Rolling us over, Elevent settles himself between my thighs. The long hard length of him steals my breath, as he uses his finger to run across my bru
ised temple.

  “What’d you do at the church before Zalesky forced you to quit?” he oddly questions.

  Granted Elevent hasn’t asked a lot of personal questions, but this one is easy.

  “I was a secretary.”

  His body rocks with his laughter, shaking the bed with each breath in and out. The rich sound penetrates my ears and though he’s laughing, probably at my expense, I can’t help but smile.

  “You were a church secretary?”

  “Yes,” I return. “I loved it.”

  “Bet they loved you,” he comments.

  “Who?”

  Elevent’s lips thin, he wants to laugh. And I’d pay to hear it again.

  “Wonder what Father Marx would say right now, if he knew you were in my bed, in my arms, about to take my cock?”

  “That’s disgusting,” I sneer.

  “Guessin’ though,” he rethinks. “He’s probably busted a few nuts to thoughts of himself havin’ the same.”

  “That’s worse!” I punish, the idea crude and twisted.

  Elevent settles, searching my face with significance. “You do anything else so bad as helping a kid fill his belly?”

  “I don’t know,” I utter. “I’m sure I’ve done worse.”

  “Right,” he clips. “I’m not sure whether to praise you or fuck you now.”

  I swallow—hard.

  “But there’s something else we’re gonna discuss, so I’ll ponder which I want as we do.”

  “What now?” I pout. “I’m pretty full from the last discussion.”

  “Leglas has a penance to pay,” he states matter-of-fact. “He hit a woman.”

  “What are you saying? What penance?”

  “You’re not gonna take lightly to this, even being Leglas. But the brother owes the club.”

  Not liking the tone used to explain, I draw my lips tight, letting my thoughts—not my mouth—run wild.

  “And you’re gonna sit back and let that happen.”

  “Let what happen, exactly?”

  “You’ll know when it’s done.”

  “Elevent,” I call in warning.

  “Did Leglas hurt you?” he questions.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Did he have reason to hurt you?”