The Angel's Hunger (Masters of Maria)

by Holley Trent

  He’d never told her about his hungers and how they perverted his relationships with people. For a long time, he’d assessed everyone he met as someone to either fuck or kill, until his priorities shifted.

  They were always shifting depending on which sin he thought was worse on any given day.

  He hadn’t given her the same honesty she’d given him so breathlessly. He’d taken her for granted and assumed Noelle’s openness had no limits.

  Maybe he’d deserved his punishment.

  He looked at his friend. Just looked at him for a long while.

  I don’t know what to do.

  He didn’t know if there was anything he could do.

  “I can’t solve your problems for you,” Tarik said quietly as if he’d just read Tamatsu’s mind. “You know that. I have too many of my own, but I can help you implement solutions once you determine what they are.”

  What if there aren’t any solutions?

  Tarik rolled the shoulder of his bad wing in the slow, thorough way he always did. The wing was stronger than it’d been since he’d damaged it, but would never be in optimal condition. There was no way to fix it, short of an infusion of magic no one would be willing to give up. He didn’t expect anyone to give up their magic for him, either.

  He coped.

  He conditioned himself the best he could, and functioned through the ache.

  Why can’t I?

  Tarik was no stronger than him. His fortitude was no greater.

  So why can’t I?

  There was no damned reason he couldn’t. He simply needed to want to.

  And he did, because he wanted Noelle. No one else could have her. The fact that anyone else had gotten close was entirely his fault, and he was going to make amends.

  Perhaps he’d never get his voice back—and he was becoming resigned to that possibility—but he could be … happy, at least for a while.

  A while was better than nothing. Forever was a long time to live when there were never any highs to pull him up out of his lows.

  So low for so long.

  He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and started for the sidewalk.

  He could choose to be high.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Noelle grunted with surprise when she stepped out of her office at the end of the day and found there was no angelic stalker waiting for her. Those guys were nothing if not predictable. She was almost a little disappointed. Still, she’d had things to do. Phone calls to make. Knives to sharpen.

  Clients to ignore.

  Her first-time-homeowners couple was going to make her work for every penny of her commission. By the time all was said and done, she would have been shocked if she earned minimum wage for all her effort.

  “They should be happy I still take their calls.” She plopped onto her sofa, heeled off her shoes, and set her laptop on her thighs.

  Her phone rang before she could get her computer booted.

  It was Jenny.

  “You know,” Noelle said in lieu of hello, “people in the office really notice when you’re not there.”

  Jenny giggled. “I’m sure the same applies to you. Sorry.” She sounded almost bashful. “I wanted to be back this afternoon, and I planned to come. I lost track of time. Forgive me.”

  “Don’t fret about it. I remember how good Clarissa is at making people forget the time. The woman has a peace about her that’s so comforting to be around. No worries.”

  “I feel awful. I kind of fell into the vibe here, I guess.”

  “That’s not a bad thing. What have you been up to?”

  “Oh! Well, chatting a lot and helping her run errands and stuff. I’ve been telling her about all the elves we’ve encountered in the past few hundred years and what sorts of trouble they’ve gotten into. She keeps herself so busy. She’d retired, you know. Used to work at the school, in the cafeteria. She had a garden, but once all the folks moved onto the property, she needed a way to feed them, and the garden turned into a little farm.”

  “All what folks?”

  “Two of her granddaughters are married to a couple of Gulielmus’s sons. You know that.”

  “Right?”

  “And then there’s her son and daughter. They have a little house on the property. They’re not home very much, though. Apparently, they drive around hunting demons.”

  “Huh?”

  “Long story. Then there are other people related to Gulielmus or who are friends she’s leased out plots to.”

  People related to Gulielmus …

  Noelle clucked her tongue and opened her notes app. “Sounds like she’s got a new little queendom set up.”

  “Hey! Kinda is. Instead of a fortified castle, though, the property has magic wards keeping most unwanted supernatural stuff out. Some still manages to get through, but they’re pretty well-equipped to handle everything that does.”

  “I’d imagine so with all those magic carriers around. Listen, I need you to do me a favor since you’re still there.”

  “What kind?”

  Noelle put her feet up on the coffee table, crossed her legs at the ankles, and grimaced. Her hips had joined the body ache party at around lunchtime. “See if you can ask around and get me some angels to network with. I need leads for my little problem.”

  “Should be easy enough. Clarissa says they stop by all the time. They don’t really respect clocks.”

  “Splendid. I’m expecting Tamatsu and Tarik to pop in eventually. As soon as they do, I’m going to try to retrace my steps in Japan to see if I can jog my memory of what happened that day. Right now, though, I’m about to call a Were-coyote on behalf of a certain shy demigoddess. Then, I hope to nap. I’m pooped.”

  “Winter is coming.”

  “Yeah. You don’t need to tell me. My joints remind me every fifteen minutes or so. Also? Please don’t feel obligated to rush back. Take some vacation days if you have them. I would if I were you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I refused two referrals today, and you know I never do that. I’m ready to wind down for the season.”

  And she also needed some time to herself. Too much had happened recently and she’d barely had time to process any of it. She didn’t like the feeling of generalized anxiety that was the finished product of a recipe of guilt, incompetence, revenge, and unreciprocated obsession. She wished she could turn some of it off—wished she could choose not to care anymore because caring inconvenienced her.

  That wasn’t how emotions worked. She couldn’t digest what she refused to chew.

  “I’ll call you first thing tomorrow,” Jenny said.

  “Don’t feel obligated unless you have news. I’m going to cuddle on the sofa with a bottle of wine tonight. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow morning, and after that, I may make myself unavailable. I might even cook.”

  Jenny giggled again. “If anyone deserves a day off, it’s you. I’m going to call you anyway. Don’t tell me no. Bye!”

  She disconnected before Noelle could lob a retort, not that Noelle was thinking fast enough that she could have come up with one.

  “Gods.” She rubbed both eyes. She didn’t normally feel the season coming so keenly that early in the year. “Need to stop burning the candle at both ends. Would help if I weren’t hastening my exhaustion with extra stress.”

  So much of it. So much male “it.”

  But she didn’t want to think about that. Tamatsu wasn’t to blame for her distractedness. She’d known he’d eventually find her, but she simply hadn’t predicted how much of a distraction he’d be. Or maybe she hadn’t predicted that after all that time, she’d still want him in the exact same way.

  Or that she’d be the one in need of forgiveness instead of him.

  Rubbing her twitching eye, she tapped Blue Shapely’s number into her phone. She figured she’d keep Willa out of the conversation until she had a chance to feel the guy out.

  As the line buzzed on the other end, she wriggled her toes to keep her circulation moving.
She’d be asleep in three minutes if she didn’t force herself to move.

  “Yeah,” came the gruff baritone voice on the other end.

  Noelle rolled her eyes. She didn’t expect everyone to be sugar sweet—especially if they didn’t recognize the numbers that came up on their caller ID. They could at least exercise a bit of courtesy. If she could, they certainly could.

  “Mr. Shapely?” she asked, closing her eyes, only to open them again when a familiar starburst-bright flash illuminated the insides of her eyelids.

  Oh shit.

  “Yeah?” Mr. Shapely responded.

  There were fallen angels tromping through her foyer with grocery bags, and their gods-awful, moth-chewed, post-apocalyptic stuntman coats were missing.

  Awestruck, she set her feet on the floor.

  “Yeah?” Mr. Shapely repeated.

  She gave her head a clearing shake. “Apologies. Mr. Shapely, my name is Noelle Flint. I’m a real estate agent in Las Vegas. I’ve worked with you before on an investment property.”

  “Flint? Hmm.”

  She drummed her fingers atop the sofa cushion. She was reasonably sure she’d gone by Flint when she’d worked with him. Her name changes were innumerable.

  “Flint? You gotta excuse me, honey. I remember faces and attributes, not names.”

  “The elf,” she said testily. He’d thought her race was a goddamned hoot and kept asking her where she kept all the cookies.

  “Ahh,” he said with a laugh. “The one with the shoes.”

  “Pardon me?”

  His laugh was low and gruff with a hint of growl in it. “Black hair, mesmerizing eyes, red lips, and fuck-me shoes. Am I remembering the right lady?”

  Noelle cracked her knuckles.

  He was only a Coyote, though. He probably couldn’t help himself.

  “I may resemble that description,” she said noncommittally.

  “Whaddaya need? Drumming up business? I don’t mind you calling me anytime, but I’d prefer you to tell me that you just want to hear my voice and that you’re not selling me anything.”

  “I assure you, I’m not selling you anything.”

  Not technically. Asking him for a lead for Willa’s pack might require some advanced-level persuasion skills, however.

  “So, this is a social call, then,” he said.

  “Not precisely.”

  Tamatsu appeared in the living room doorway then, and whatever Mr. Shapely had to say in response got lost somewhere between her ears and brain.

  Her gaze didn’t know what to lock onto, and so it roamed wildly over him, trying to take in all seven-plus feet of him at once. That was stupid because he was far too much for any one woman to handle, even when that woman was a jealous, possessive, knife-toting elf.

  “Did you hear me?” Mr. Shapely asked.

  She swallowed and closed her eyes against the sight of the scowling angel.

  Two minutes. Just two minutes on the phone, and she could peel one eyelid up. She could look and assure herself that man wasn’t really in fitted slacks and shoes that didn’t have spikes on the toes.

  “I’m sorry. Repeat yourself, please.”

  Gods.

  She was pretty sure Tamatsu had moved closer. Either that, or elves had suddenly become susceptible to menopause, and she was experiencing her very first hot flash. His proximity could either freeze or scald depending on his mood, and she didn’t know what either meant.

  “I said if you wanted to meet up with me,” Mr. Shapely said, “I’m in town tonight. We could go have drinks or something.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I really wanted to reach out to ask you a quick question.” She opened her eye a bit to confirm that Tamatsu had left the doorway.

  He had. He was in front of the coffee table, and he was wearing a shirt that was actually tucked into his pants.

  Fuck.

  He was making her brain hurt. She forced her eye shut again.

  “Well, damn,” Mr. Shapely said. “That’s too bad. I kinda liked having an elf on my arm.”

  “I was never on your arm.”

  “You were on my lap, though.”

  “That was an accident,” she spat.

  Tamatsu moved closer. She could hear his breathing, and his breaths didn’t sound so calm.

  She covered her eyes in a last-ditch effort not to look.

  “Accident or not, I told you that you didn’t have to scramble away so fast. I didn’t have anywhere I needed to be, and I sure didn’t mind.”

  I bet.

  Her memory of the event was returning to her. His entire pack was filled with lascivious thugs. They were organized, sure, but still mostly lacking in manners. The Coyotes in Maria may have had a number of issues, but at least they weren’t lechers.

  “I’m pleased to know I had such an impression on you, Mr. Shapely, but I actually called you for a referral.”

  “I thought you said this wasn’t about business.”

  “It’s not. This has to do with a Coyote issue. I’m calling on behalf of a friend with a very small network. She needs resources. I agreed to help her find some.”

  Mr. Shapely grunted. “Coyotes are already pretty well-networked, so what’s wrong with the one you know?”

  “Nothing. Her pack alpha is dead or missing, and there’s no one available to fill in. There aren’t any true dominants in the pack.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  She heard a creak. Sighing, she uncovered and opened her eyes. There was an angel sitting twelve inches from her with his elbows pressed to his knees and a hard glint in his eyes.

  She blinked and pointed at him. His hair was loose and hung around his face in a curtain. He looked very much like a cologne advertisement she’d seen recently. The guy in the ad hadn’t done anything for her, but no one did anymore in any significant way. Tethered elves were hard to turn on by people they weren’t attached to. If Tamatsu had been in that ad looking like he was, Noelle would have been rubbing the sample inserts all over every pillow in the house.

  “So, what do you want me to do for them?” Mr. Shapely asked.

  She had to close her eyes again. If she didn’t, she would have had a fist around Tamatsu’s hair, and he’d always liked that way too much. She didn’t want to turn him on.

  At all.

  My word.

  She swallowed and then drew in a deep, bracing breath. “I was hoping you might speak to her and perhaps pass on the names of anyone you know who might be interested in taking over a small-town alpha position. I won’t lie to you. The pack needs some work.”

  “Yeah. I would imagine so if they don’t have any dominants. Where is this place?”

  “Not important.”

  “Oh, you’re gonna be bashful now?”

  “That’s the last word anyone would ever call me, I assure you. I’m simply exercising some prudence. I wouldn’t be doing my friend any favors by cluing you in on their location without knowing what your intentions are. I’m not going to stand for you making promises to help only to have one of your buddies try to take over and ruin what’s left of the pack.”

  “You wound me. I wouldn’t do that, baby.”

  The coffee table creaked again, but she knew better than to open her eyes. She already knew Tamatsu was there. There was no good reason for her to torture herself by ogling him.

  “You’ll have to accept my apologizes for my cautiousness. As you might have guessed, I have a great number of years on you. I’ve witnessed a number of craven acts from men in dominant roles who’d promised to protect a group of people.”

  She’d killed a few of them, Lorcan being chief among them. She had no intentions of watching history repeat elsewhere.

  “Understood. I do like older women, by the way.”

  “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

  “Aww. Got a man?”

  Tamatsu thumped the sofa beside her leg.

  “No.”

  “A woman, then?” Mr. Shapely chuckled, but Noelle
didn’t find anything funny about the question. He could take his fishing expedition elsewhere.

  “Can I count on you for a referral, Mr. Shapely?” she asked through gritted teeth.

  “I dunno. Maybe. I need a little more info before I start tossing names around, though.”

  “Understood.”

  Tamatsu thumped the sofa base again.

  She mouthed, “I’m not ignoring you.” As if she could. Tethered elves were compelled to be as close as possible to their mates. On his lap wouldn’t have been too close.

  He thumped again.

  She had to open her eyes. Fortunately, she didn’t get too star-struck by the action because she was stunned instead by the sight of his hand extended to her. He pointed to her phone and then held his palm out again.

  “Ha ha,” she said quietly.

  His nostrils flared. Apparently, that meant both of them were in shitty moods. That seemed fair to her.

  “What I can tell you,” she said to Mr. Shapely, “is that there’s a strong possibility that anyone who takes the gig could transfer part of their pack with them.”

  “Someone who has some dominants that need to be culled, you mean.”

  “Couldn’t hurt.”

  “I see. Well. I can certainly do some thinking and see if I can come up with anyone. Should I call you back on this number?”

  “That’ll be fine.”

  “Is this your personal number?”

  “One of them.”

  “Good to know.”

  Tamatsu thumped the sofa again.

  She scowled at him.

  “I’ll be in touch, baby.” Mr. Shapely disconnected.

  Standing, Tamatsu forced a hard gust of air through his nose and pinned his forbidding gaze on her.

  She blinked at him. “What? Want to tell me about your bad day? Want some cookies and maybe a mug of warm milk?”

  He stooped down to meet her gaze at her inconsiderable height.

  She blinked at him again. “What?”

  He pointed to the phone.

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I deal with cocky guys all the time. I assure you, there’s nothing unusual about him.”

  He fluttered his eyelashes and laid his head on his hand, grinning manically.