Far From Center: An Imp World Novel

by Debra Dunbar

  Gabriel shook his head. “That’s odd.”

  “I know. In Hel with the elves, we had specific places for urination and they were never the same as bathing. You have no idea how much I struggled to take a bath and clean my body in clear view of a device used for the disposal of digestive waste. It was terribly disturbing.”

  Humans could learn a lot from Nyalla. Clearly she was more evolved than most of them. Normally Gabriel would have attributed it to the positive influence of the elves, but given what he’d learned of the Fae in the last year, he doubted it. They’d devolved just as much as the demons had, and this woman was blessed that she’d not been forever ruined by their abuse.

  “Spooge everywhere,” Snip interjected, making a motion with his hands as if he were spraying a fire hose. “I tried to write my name with it, but I was a bit overcome by the sensation and I’m afraid all I managed was a scribble of sticky white stuff on the door. I’m thinking Jackson Pollock. Yeah, that’s kind of what it looked like. Do you think I might have a future as an artist? I can ask the Iblis if I can stay in her house and do plein air with my cum on a canvas. I’ll bet I can make a fortune on originals and signed prints.”

  Nyalla turned huge dark-blue eyes toward him, her lip firmly clenched between her teeth. “We need to go. Like right now, before management throws us out or I puke my tuna steak all over the floor at Snip’s graphic porn stories. If Terrelle doesn’t show up before the party bus gets here, she can catch a taxi and meet us back at the hotel.”

  Gabriel stood, casting a scowl back at the hallway where the bathrooms were. “I agree.”

  Chapter 14

  Terrelle managed to catch the bus just as it was about to pull away from the curb. She plopped down in the seat next to Gabriel, breathing heavily. Her hair was mussed, her shirt with several interesting stains on it, and her right eyebrow singed.

  “Do I want to know?” Nyalla asked the demon.

  “No. No, you do not. Let’s just say that professional kitchen equipment has changed significantly since I was last in the employees-only area of a restaurant.”

  Nyalla nodded. “Was it worth it?”

  The demon grinned. “Ask me how to make a flambé. Go ahead, ask.”

  “I’d rather you demonstrate once we’re back home.” Nyalla smiled. “I love flambé.”

  Terrelle leaned back in her seat and patted Gabriel on the arm. “Flambé for everyone, even you, sexy, G-man. That’s assuming you’re coming back with us. Are you and Nyalla an item? I saw you rush to her defense back there, so I suppose you’re going to be banging her tonight.”

  Gabriel looked appalled. “I’m not banging anyone, whatever that means. And I won’t be coming back with you. I’ve got pressing matters to attend to.”

  But the demon’s words made Nyalla wonder once more what to do with Gabe if his angel-ness hadn’t returned by the time they were to leave Aruba. She couldn’t leave him here with no ID and no money, trapped on the island. She’d need to get him a plane ticket. And to do that, she’d need to contact her brother, Wyatt, to provide a passport to get the angel back into the States. As an angel, Gabe was incredibly powerful, but he had no idea how to negotiate life in the human world. And Nyalla could sympathize. When she’d first been brought here after eighteen years as a slave in Hel, she’d been terrified. She couldn’t speak any languages beyond Elven and a bit of Demon. She didn’t know how to drive a car, use computers or phones, operate the toaster. All the food tasted strange. All the beverages, beyond water, juice, and wine, were unfamiliar. There were laws against public nudity that made absolutely no sense to her.

  She didn’t want Gabe to have to go through that. Yes, he knew the language and she’d been teaching him how to be a human just as quickly as she could, but she was still willing to bet he’d have no clue how to operate a toaster. Food was a new experience for him.

  The bus pulled up outside the hotel and the four of them climbed down the stairs, Snip nearly falling on his face at the curb. Nyalla paused inside the open-air lobby, admiring the soft lighting along the garden path that led to the beach and the sound of the waterfall fountain just out of sight. The evening felt anticlimactic. She’d not gotten the artifact. The Gormand had stolen half of her tuna steak. She was wide awake and not sure what to do with the rest of her evening. Head to the pool-side bar? Read a book up on her room balcony?

  “Welp, I’m headed to bed.” Snip announced. “Gonna end the day on a good note and not risk getting rejected at the casino. Bed. There I can choke my chicken and think about that sexy waitress.”

  “That waitress was ninety if she was a day,” Terrelle said. “I don’t think even other ninety-year-olds would call her sexy.”

  “You’re just jealous because you haven’t gotten laid yet.”

  “I could if I shelled out a fifty, so don’t act all smug. You probably had to pay that waitress, and she wasn’t close to being as sexy as Marco.” Terrelle’s expression turned thoughtful. “Nyalla. Loan me a fifty, would you?”

  Nyalla sighed and reached into her purse only to see Gabe looking at her in horror. “What? She wants sex. Marco evidently needs money. What’s the problem?”

  “I think she should wait until a prospective partner comes along who doesn’t want to be paid for services rendered. Isn’t sex supposed to be about intimacy, about establishing a bond, no matter how fleeting, between two people.”

  “I’m trying to establish a bond,” Terrelle retorted. “The bond of his cock and my vajayjay. Unless you’re offering, G-man, this is the best deal I’ve had since my plane landed on the island.”

  “Here.” Nyalla thrust the fifty at the demon. “G-man is most definitely not offering. Go have fun with Marco.”

  The information demon snatched the money, skipping down the pathway as Snip, Gabe, and Nyalla headed toward the elevators.

  “Have you ever paid for sex?” Gabe scowled down at her.

  “No, but I’m not going to fault Terrelle for doing so.”

  “Nyalla doesn’t need to pay for sex, because she’s a smoking-hot babe,” Snip chimed in. “She has them lined up, begging for it. Then she bangs them and tells them to hit the road. And they cry and mope and have to sleep in the stable, or they call her so much that she needs to change her phone number. Nil–”

  “Stop. Snip, just…go to your room and dream of your waitress or something.” This was so embarrassing. Gabe must think her a loose woman with no morals whatsoever.

  Sure enough, the angel was staring at her, his expression horrified. “How many men and women have you had sex with? Were they all these ‘bang-and-leave’ types of encounters?”

  Nyalla felt her face heat up. “I don’t count them on a score card. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  “There was the cop, that guy you met at the beach.” Snip ticked off on his fingers. “The dude from the band, that werewolf in Candy’s pack–”

  “Snip! Go away.” Nyalla pointed down the hallway. “Now. Go.”

  The Low grumbled, but did as she said.

  “Four? Four?” Gabriel glared at her.

  She squirmed, willing the elevator to hurry up. “Eight. It’s really not that many. And ‘bang and leave’ is a gross exaggeration. I dated every one of those guys, calling it quits after a few months when it was clear that things weren’t going to work out long-term.”

  They got into the elevator, Gabriel punching the number three with such violence that Nyalla feared the button might break. “Eight. You’ve had sex with eight people.”

  He made it sound as if she were a tramp. “Yes. And since we’re sharing here, how many sexual encounters have you had?”

  “None.” His voice was smug. “There are very good reasons we’re forbidden from having physical relations with humans, and I’ve never stooped to manifesting physical form and having sexual intercourse with another angel.”

  “I don’t mean that, I mean angel-sex. That joining thing you do. Sam told me about it, and as far as I’m c
oncerned it’s the same thing as we humans do. How many angels have you joined with?”

  Gabe punched the three twice more, glaring at the button. “That’s not something I’m going to share with you.”

  “Oh really? I open up to you about my experience as a slave, I tell you how many people I’ve had sex with, but when it’s me asking the questions, it’s none of my business. That’s not a friendship, Gabe. That’s one-sided phoo-hockey. I’m not friends with people who do that.”

  Something that looked an awful lot like fear skittered across his face. “That’s not fair, Nyalla. The sex humans have isn’t the same as our joining. Ours is a holy union. There’s something deep that happens when we join. It transcends the flesh, involving only the purity of our spirit-beings.”

  “Phoo-hockey. Don’t give me this ‘purity of the spirit’ nonsense, Gabe, because I’m not having it. Just because you’re a being of spirit and I’m a being of flesh doesn’t mean your ways of establishing and affirming an emotional connection are superior to ours in any way.”

  The doors of the elevator opened and Nyalla stomped out, Gabe keeping pace beside her. “And you’re going to tell me you had a deep, abiding, emotional connection with every one of those eight men? Every one?”

  “No. Maybe at first.” She dug into her bag, trying to find the room key. “I’m seeking a permanent, deep abiding emotional connection. I just haven’t found it yet. Those relationships… I’d hoped they’d be something, but they weren’t. That’s how it is with humans. It sometimes takes a while to find the right person. It sometimes takes a lifetime.”

  “So you plan on having sex with every guy you meet until you happen to come across the right one? Why don’t you decide if they’re the right one before having sex?”

  Nyalla winced at his sharp tone. “Maybe not for everyone, but for me, sex is part of finding out if they’re the right one. And I’m done talking about this.” She yanked the key card from her purse, swiping it and storming into the room, not caring if he followed her or not. “Go to bed. I’m going to sit out on the porch and read.”

  “Maybe I’ll read, too–”

  “No,” she snapped. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t even want you in the same room as me right now. Go to bed and leave me alone.”

  Nyalla threw her bag across the room and onto the couch, then went through the books on the table, trying to find one with more violence and less romance — hopefully one where the heroine stabbed the hero a few times. The whole time she was painfully conscious of Gabe hovering near, not going into the bedroom as she’d demanded, but obviously not daring to touch her or even straighten up the mess of books she was tossing to the side.

  Finally, she just grabbed one, realizing too late that it was the emotionally damaged hockey player/plucky reporter romance that Gabe had been reading earlier today. It would have to do.

  “Go to bed,” she stated once more. Then she spun around and went onto the balcony, closing the door with a click behind her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Gabe standing right where she’d left him. He stood there until she had sat and opened her book, then slowly he turned around and walked into the bedroom.

  The pages blurred before her, but Nyalla blinked them back and bit her lip to steady it. She was angry and sad all at the same time, her chest hurting in a way that it never had before. Even if she ended up not reading one word on one page, they both needed this space between them before they said things they regret.

  It still didn’t keep her from wanting to go back inside, storm into the bedroom and kiss some sense into that stubborn angel.

  Chapter 15

  Nyalla’s eyelids were growing heavy, and she’d just begun to lose herself in the drama of Zane and Phoebe when she heard the click of the porch door opening. She felt Gabe standing in the doorway, saw him out of the corner of her eye.

  “None.”

  Her heart twisted at the depth of loneliness in that one word.

  “You wanted to know how many angels I’ve joined with, and the answer is none.”

  He was four billion years old and he’d never joined with another angel? Nyalla turned in her seat to face him. “Why not? Does it have to do with your vibration patterns?”

  “No. Joining actually improves our vibration patterns. It brings us close to the divine. I just…” He ran a hand through his spiky black hair. “I never found the right angel. Honestly, I never tried to find the right angel. I had my choir to run and my duties on the Ruling Council. I never wanted there to be any question of a conflict of interest on my part. I didn’t want to worry that my partner might be with me primarily to improve their status in Aaru and not because they truly wanted an emotional connection with me. And…” again she saw fear in his eyes. “no one was truly worthy. I’d rather wait than join with an angel whose vibration levels were less than mine.”

  He was terrified. Nyalla searched his face and found four billion years of self-imposed isolation because he was afraid he was the one who wouldn’t be found worthy. In spite of his lofty vibration level, his dedicated service to Aaru, his strict adherence to the rules, Gabe was positive that he’d never achieve that emotional connection. He’d spent his life squeezed in a vice, between two powerful elder siblings that he desperately wanted to best. He wanted their approval, their admiration, and he never got it. He couldn’t be like the younger two. He couldn’t ever gain the respect of the older two. The best he could do was to pull himself away, to create an island where no one could reject him or judge him as lacking in any way. If he let no one in, then any criticism would just slide right off his back.

  It was so sad. Nyalla put the book down and stood, reaching up to cup his face in her hands. “You’re my best friend, Gabe. In less than two days, you’ve become my best friend.” She pulled his face to hers and kissed him, soft and gentle, her lips lingering briefly on his. “I hope someday you’ll find me worthy. I hope so, because you’re my ‘deep abiding emotional connection’. You.”

  One of them had to risk it all, to take the chance, so she chose it to be her. In spite of all the hurt she’d had at the hands of the elves, in spite of the pain of eight failed relationships, she was the less damaged of the two of them. She was the optimist who kept trying while he’d been the one who walled himself off. It was up to her to open the door, to make herself vulnerable, and hope that he’d meet her somewhere in the middle.

  A breath shuddered through him and he pulled her close, crushing her against him. She felt his ragged breathing against her hair, his fingers curling to grip the back of her shirt.

  Finally, he pulled back and she saw the shine of tears in his eyes. “You’re my best friend too, Nyalla. I care more about you than I do about anyone. You are worthy. You’re worthy, but I don’t know if I can ever give you a physical affirmation of my affection.”

  Her lips trembled, but she forced them into a smile. “No sex? Because that would be sinful, even with you as a human right now?”

  “No, it’s not the act itself that is the sin, it’s the devastation it causes to both the human and the angel. I’ve seen it too many times, not just with the Nephilim I watch over, but the angels and humans who created them. These relationships always end badly, and it’s the human who suffers the most. We’re not meant to love humans. We can’t give a human partner what they need. And if we let our emotions get the best of us and procreate with them, an innocent child suffers as well. Humans and angels should never love.”

  “Too late.” She reached up to touch his lips and halt his words. “Do you think us not having sex will change anything? Sex is just one expression of love. Take that away and the emotion still remains. If your reasoning for not having sex with me is because you want to spare me the hurt of loving you or to stop this feeling from happening, then you’re too late. And whether you choose to have sex with me or not, nothing is going to change what I feel for you.”

  “This will end in tragedy,” he whispered against her finger. “I don’t want
that. I can’t stand the thought that you may end up hurt and hating me. I don’t want a tragedy.”

  “It won’t be a tragedy,” she smiled, and this time it was not to mask her tears. “If you let it, ours will be a life full of laughter and fun, of walks along the beach, sailing, scuba diving, reading side-by-side with our toes digging into the warm sand. It will be us dancing in the moonlight, exploring new places together. And when there are sad times, hard times, we’ll hold each other’s hand and get through them together. For as long as we both shall live. Love for us won’t be a tragedy. I promise.”

  He smoothed her hair and took a deep breath. “I want to tell you about the first Nephilim I watched over. When the tenth choir fell and Micha took charge of the Grigori, we hunted and killed as many Nephilim as we could find. We established a system of rules and procedures to catch angels before they were so tempted that they might repeat that disaster. But one day a member of Micha’s choir came to me and confessed that he had fallen in love with a human woman, and that she was pregnant with a child of his making.”

  Nyalla’s brows furrowed. “Why didn’t this angel go to your brother? Why you when he wasn’t even a member of your choir?”

  “Because suicide is an unforgivable sin, and this angel wanted to die. I have a reputation as the strictest of the archangels. He hoped I’d deliver death as a punishment.”

  “Did you?”

  “No. I made him tell me everything. I wanted to know what could cause a righteous angel to fall so low, and what could have gone so wrong that he wanted to die. Once I heard his story, I couldn’t deliver death as a punishment to this angel. I sentenced him to penance, forbade him from ever interacting with humans again — especially the woman he’d impregnated and his child.” Gabe’s eyes met Nyalla’s. “I want you to know his story as well as mine. You are the only one I’ve told this to.”