by Celia Kyle
All right, then.
I led him up the steps and pushed the back door open, leaving it wide for him.
But he paused in the doorway, lingering just outside the threshold. “You sure?”
I tucked my hands in my pockets, trying to stop myself from reaching out. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, gaze distant, features hard. I didn’t doubt that he fought other forbidden urges. Killing wasn’t the only carnal activity angels craved. Especially those that’d fallen.
Blood. Sex.
“If you’re worried I’ll pounce and ride you like a horse, don’t be.” I forced the next lie from my lips. “I’m over you.”
My wolf whimpered, torn between anger at him for leaving and the desire to take him to bed again. He’d been my mate—my one.
Then he’d left. The wolf didn’t understand the why, it just knew he was gone.
“Not what I’m worried about.” He still refused to look at me.
I stared at him, studying the way he held himself. “I get it.” I walked over to him, solid boots thumping on the scarred wood flooring. “You think you’re going to hurt me?”
I didn’t stop until mere inches separated us. He couldn’t ignore me. I touched his chin, ignoring the heated burn that came from the direct contact of his skin. The good in me objected to the pure evil that swirled in his veins.
I forced him to turn his head and look me in the eye. No avoidance. “Sam, Samkiel,” he flinched when I said his true name. “You’re not a monster. You’re not like the others. You weren’t lured by the prospect of power by Uncle Luc. You lost your grace protecting me, saving me… Saving Bry.” That’s what I remembered most. What he’d sacrificed to save my son. “If On High can’t understand that and forgive you, maybe living in the clouds isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
His postured eased, not enough for my liking, but he wasn’t as tense as he’d been. As if some of the burden lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you.”
Heartfelt. Solid. Sincere. Enough that the ache of his touch eased the tiniest bit.
“Besides,” I shrugged, “it’s not like you could take me.” I grinned and winked.
Though he probably could. Eventually. The brand on my palm throbbed and I remembered the pain that’d come with his touch. We could both call on the ninth circle, but recovering from that kind of pain… Yeah.
He chuckled, lips quirking in a small grin, and it was like having the old Sam back. “Maybe.”
I ignored the “maybe” and turned away from him. “I need a fucking drink.”
I snagged a six-pack out of the fridge and clomped down the hallway, returning to the library. I tossed a beer to Jezze and then offered one to Sam. He stared at it for a long moment, frowning, and then shook his head.
“Sure? It’s clean. Papa Finn checked everything in the house.”
“I’m good.” He shook his head.
I shrugged and sucked down half my beer in one swallow and then tipped the neck at Sam. “How much do you know?”
Sam sat across from me, glancing between me and Jezze. Jezze sipped her beer, watching him watching her, and the tension slowly climbed before she cleared her throat and got up. “I’ll go check on Bry.”
That unease settled and once she was gone, I gave Sam a level look. “Well?”
“I know about the drug. I’ve been watching you.” His voice soft and I wasn’t going to accuse him of being a stalker. “Keeping an eye on things.”
“Stalking me, you mean.” Okay, maybe I was going to accuse him of stalkerdom. “Just like always.”
He shrugged and didn’t try to deny it.
“Any leads?”
“None so far.”
I told him what we knew and the work we’d been doing to narrow down the list. “One thing I can’t figure out,” I took another sip of the bitter brew. “Is what’s the purpose. So far, there’ve been a bunch of people getting sick and being dicks. But if this is some kind of takeover, they’re doing a shitty job of it. Totally lame.”
Lame was still a hip word today, right?
“Might not be so simple.”
I arched a brow in question and waited. Fallen Sam was more forthcoming than Angel Sam.
“People who take this drug willingly are doing more than getting high. There’s gluttony. They’re hurting their own souls with the excess.” He gestured to the shed. “Beyond that, they’re engaging in violence. Violence that puts their mortal souls in danger.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I thought you were done trying to save souls.”
“Just because I’ve fallen,” he gave me a heavy stare, “doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten my purpose.”
“Huh.” I generally thought that’s what being fallen meant. Though if Sam wanted to work toward redemption, this was a good way to start. “It’s kind of unfair, though. I mean, On High damning those men? Not their fault. They only got violent with the drug and they took the drug because someone pushed it on them.”
“They made a choice. Might not be fair, but free will never is.”
“On High is kind of a dick.” Yeah, life wasn’t fair, but still…
Though, I figured Sam was the expert on the subject. I had plenty of free will. I probably took it for granted, but I’d known angels to envy the freedoms humans had. Resented their ability to choose light or darkness, or wander the broad line in between.
He quirked his lips in a small grin. “Regardless, those men and others like them need help. They’ll need to be cleansed. The taint needs to be removed from their souls.”
I snapped my fingers. “Real shame I haven’t seen any gels who still have it in good with On High.”
He winced and silence descended.
Fuck.
I reached across the table and touched his hand, not trusting myself to go any further. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
Or I did. Like it or not, when it came to hurting the people we loved, my mother and I had a lot in common.
“It’s good. I might not be in On High’s good graces anymore, but I’ve accepted my fate.” His heated gaze met mine and I saw emotions there that seared me to my soul. Ones that I’d fought hard to forget. Ones I wanted to keep buried out of sheer self-fucking-preservation. “It was worth it.”
I swallowed hard, mouth dry, and I tore my attention from him. I snared another beer and cracked it open, taking a long chug. I needed something to do other than fall into his arms.
I could feel is eyes on me, his intent gaze like a heavy weight on my shoulders. A heavy, comforting weight.
I fought those emotions, the ones that tried to remind me I loved him. That he was my mate. That I wanted to have him deep inside me over and over again. I touched the symbol on my palm, the angel’s wings burning with darkness. His attention drifted to my hand, hard stare zeroed in on the mark he’d left on me.
“I should go.” He pushed to his feet and turned from me, releasing me from his penetrating stare.
I followed. I couldn’t do anything but follow. “Sam, wait…”
Wait for what? I had no idea. I just didn’t want him to leave. Not when I had him so close, within reach with his spicy scent teasing my nose. The feel of his bunching muscles beneath my palm felt so familiar—so real and so right.
The wolf pushed and prodded, nudging me, so that when his lips pressed against mine, I didn’t resist. I couldn’t resist.
It wasn’t a gentle brush or tentative touch. It was raw and hungry—hard and rough. His tongue delved past my lips, his taste exploding across my taste buds, and I sank into him. I clung to his shoulders, fingers digging into leather and flesh. Our mouths mated and I wished our bodies could do the same. My pussy ached, heavy and wanting, clenching on air while my clit twitched and ached for him to touch me, caress me… Dammit, I wanted him to fuck me. Long and hard and for the rest of our mother fucking lives.
He squeezed me tightly, arms encircling me, his hands coming to rest on my ass. He squeezed and I rolled my hips, enjoying the feel
of his hardness notched against my pussy. I grinded against him, reveling in the pleasure of his touch. I nipped his lips and sucked on his tongue, reminding him what my mouth could do. I wanted that—needed it more than I needed air. I was ready to forget about everything that’d happened in the past and live right now—in this moment and no other.
His hands roamed, searching out where I loved to be stroked most, and I did the same. I delved beneath his jacket, searching out skin and flesh. I didn’t care if it hurt me, I wanted him. He was hot and hard beneath my palms, and I traced the harsh lines of his body. I familiarized myself with his form, the new scars he carried and the familiar smoothness of his skin.
I wanted, wanted, wanted, and the wolf kept up its continuous growls.
Mine.
I ran my sharpened nails down his back, needing to mark him however I could.
Those large hands squeezed my ass once more and I moaned with the pleasure. But then every muscle in his body tightened, stiffening in a not fun way. He grabbed my waist and ended our kiss, pushing me away from him and putting space between our bodies.
I blinked and then blinked again, trying to focus on his face while need still infused me. “What?”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” He looked away, taking a deep breath and then releasing it slowly.
He didn’t even glance at me before he left the library and went out the front door.
Gone.
Again.
My wolf howled in frustration and pain, mourning the sudden loss of our mate, and I almost released the pitiful howl that gathered in my throat. I stumbled backward and fell against the wall, letting the solid surface support my weight. I thumped my head against the hard drywall, hoping that repetitive thud would help me calm.
It didn’t. Not with the first thump or the fifth. I ignored the tear that escaped my eyes, the sting of the salty liquid overflowing my lashes.
“On High damn him,” I rasped, voicing my unending ache.
But that wasn’t fair. On High had already done exactly that.
9
I had nothing but dead ends and a sick baby. His small body still flushed with fever and magic keeping him stable. He’d wake enough to take a bottle and he was watched around the clock in case he needed a diaper change. It was those times, dark at night, when I curled around him and cried. Cried for my sweet Bryony who’d endured so much before I’d taken him and now he suffered even more just for existing in my small circle.
I’d wondered if I could be like my mother—indifferent, uncaring—but this situation, each moment I spent at his side, proved I wasn’t. My mother never would have bathed my brow or sung my favorite lullabies. She wouldn’t whisper three little words that I could never contain.
“I love you.”
More than life, I loved the little boy.
It was why I wouldn’t give up. Yes, Orlando was my town. Mine. But I didn’t fight the evil for a bunch of buildings on a hunk of land. I did it for him.
Once the humans sobered up, they didn’t have much for us. They only vaguely remembered attacking and questioning revealed that someone had riled them up while they were drugged and then released them on Momma R’s. They remembered the rage but not the reason.
Useless.
We dropped them, as well as Jacob and his friends, off at a clinic taking in those who’d been drugged. Even though they’d all come down, lingering side effects still plagued them. Fever, nausea, irritability. A darkness coated them now, a taint that wouldn’t go away overnight.
I didn’t think even saying a few Hail Marys would purge their souls.
The news was just as clueless, ideas bouncing between this being a scheme from a new drug kingpin and a terrorist plot. The human authorities didn’t get it, but at least they were keeping the affected humans contained—hospitals or jail.
But more and more cases were popping up, the problem spreading faster than it could be contained.
Fuck, this sucked.
I sat in a chair in Momma R’s living room, holding Bry in my arms now. Sorsha had come by to refresh the spell warding off his worst symptoms and also reshaped the charms into something he could wear. It let me cradle my son close, let me breathe in his fresh scent. There was still no sign of him getting any better, but I promised myself he would. I needed him racing through my life, finding weapons better left hidden and disappearing and scaring the hell out of me.
I lowered my head and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his while I whispered a quiet promise. “Tempmomma will let you pick out two baby gators for our pond.”
I wouldn’t let Bry name them though. Uncle Hades—well, adopted uncle—let Uncle Luc name Cerberus, which meant that Hades now had a dog named… Spot. Three-headed dog, which meant he was still badass. But yeah, Spot.
I stroked his face, wishing I could find some way to make him better.
I’d still kept the bar open every night, sure to keep money rolling in so bills would be paid and I could keep paying Sorsha. The elf would have done it in exchange for some favors, but the Princess of Hell wouldn’t owe anyone.
Plus, every tween that came in over the last few nights had at least heard of the situation in town, and I was milking them for information and gossip. It hadn’t been much so far, but I’d take what I could get.
And now it was time to do it all again. I carefully rose from the chair and padded to Momma R, gently passing off my burden. I got her normal assurances. She’d care for Bryony as if he were her own. And I knew she spoke the truth, which was what made my eyes sting with tears. So much love from a woman so many feared.
I headed to Hell’s Chapel, hoping—but not praying because that just didn’t happen and the ass wasn’t listening anyway—there would be no trouble tonight.
And there wasn’t any more than usual. A few rough customers tried to ruin shit, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle with a bat and a punch. A couple of tweens wandered in, showing signs of infection, but one of the regulars offered them a ride home. Since their brand of crazy seemed relatively harmless, I didn’t stop him. A hobgoblin was accusing the dart board of sleeping with his wife, but as long as he didn’t start a fight with it, I didn’t care.
I was actually gullible enough to believe it would be a slow, uneventful night. Until the moment the police showed up.
“Fuuuck,” I groaned under my breath.
I didn’t deal with the boys in blue often. They tended to dig into things that weren’t their deal. I kept the bar up to code for health inspectors and made sure I renewed my liquor license like any other human-run establishment.
The trouble knocking on my door was usually of the supernatural variety, and I handled that shit on my own without the authorities getting involved. It wasn’t like I could call the cops when a drunken satyr got busy with the ladies.
So, yeah, it was more than a little surprising when a half-dozen of Orlando’s finest stormed into my bar, looking they were ready for serious business.
The largest of the group stalked toward me. “You the owner?”
My fingers tightened on my bat under the bar. Just for a second. But wasn’t stupid. I’d throw down without hesitation, but there’s a delicate balance to be maintained with human authorities.
“Yup, I’m Caith Murray.” At least my driver’s license said so.
He handed over a few pieces of paper, black, block lettering and a signature on the bottom covering them. “We have a warrant to search the premises. We’re going to have to ask your customers to clear out while we conduct our search.”
Goody.
I glanced at the pages, scanning them quickly. They seemed legit to my untutored eyes. I almost called up Killian Howe. He was my lawyer, right? But there didn’t seem to be a point. I had nothing to hide. I didn’t keep illegal shit in my bar, and my swords hung on my wall in my office. They’d just think I liked morbid decorations. Even swabbing them for blood wouldn’t reveal anything. I didn’t kill humans with those and demon blood didn�
��t show with standard testing.
I re-folded the pages and tucked them in my back pocket. “You couldn’t have come by any other time than the middle of business hours?”
The smile I got was wide and fake, smarmy with a dash of asshole. “We appreciate your cooperation, ma’am.”
“Right.” I turned to the half-full bar. “Sorry, folks, looks like we’re closing early.”
The goblins, trolls, satyrs, and elves grumbled but wandered out peacefully. Thank On High. The cops didn’t look too closely though most humans didn’t really notice a tweener’s real nature. A troll with his hat pulled low could pass well enough as someone with a skin condition and a bad dye job. Elves played themselves off as trekkies and lovers of all things Spock. Others had glamour to hide themselves.
We are not the trolls you are looking for.
All that helped maintain the delicate balance between humans and tweeners.
I let the cops poke around, staying put at the bar. It was a complete waste of time and city resources, but it wasn’t my job to balance their budget.
Jezze leaned close to me. “What do you think this is about?”
“Dunno,” I whispered back. “But something doesn’t feel right.” The hairs on the back of my neck rose and the area between my shoulder blades itched. Trouble. Trouble I’d specifically worked to avoid. I had certain “arrangements” with the mayor to avoid situations like this, but it seemed like that was gone.
After a few minutes, one of the cops emerged from the bar, holding a few plastic water bottles. He passed them off to the guy in charge, who held them up to me. “Trafficking in illicit substances, Miss Murray?” He tskd. “I can’t arrest you for this.” He waved the bottles. “But this crap’s been spreading all over the city. If you’re a supplier, you’re going down.”
Okay, at least my arrangement with the mayor was partially in place and I wasn’t being hauled away.
I looked at the label and internally grimaced. It was the same brand from Momma R’s house. The kind laced with the demon drug.
“I have no idea how that got in my bar.”