Archangel of Mercy

by Christina Ashcroft

  Her breath shuddered out between her teeth and she broke eye contact to focus on his nose. “We didn’t use any protection.”

  For a second he thought he had misheard. But the fact Aurora refused to look at him, combined with the way the words were still ringing in his ears, confirmed the astounding truth.

  She was concerned that he might have passed something on to her.

  “Let me assure you . . .” He was doubly annoyed that her insult had done nothing to diminish the extent of his erection. “I don’t carry diseases. It’s impossible for me to have”—he resisted the urge to grind his teeth—“infected you.”

  Her eyes widened in apparent horror. “Infected me?” She sounded as shocked as she looked. What was she playing at?

  “Yes.” Now would be a good time to leave her. Except it felt too damn good wedged between her thighs. “But if that wasn’t your problem then it applies equally the other way. You can’t infect me, either.”

  From the late morning sunlight that spilled into his bedroom he saw her cheeks flame with mortification. Obviously that hadn’t been her inference either. Not that he’d for one second thought it was. But the way she was now looking up at him unaccountably rubbed his phantom feathers the wrong way.

  “I wasn’t—” She bit off her words and avoided his gaze. He narrowed his eyes, waiting. He wasn’t the one who’d started this. If anyone should be offended here it was him. Yet her clear distress at his accusation ate into him like acid.

  By rights he should kick her from his bed. But still he remained where he was, as if he craved this excruciating torture.

  “That didn’t occur to me.” She sounded hurt. “I was thinking more of . . . me getting pregnant.”

  A dull pain spiked through his heart and for a moment he embraced it, allowing the ancient agony to wash through him in a self-indulgent wave.

  Helena. The child of his heart. The child of his love. His miracle.

  “No.” His voice was devoid of emotion while regret wrenched through his chest. “You won’t get pregnant.”

  “But I might. I’m not on the Pill or anything. I mean, it’s possible, isn’t it?” Again he heard the thread of panic in her tone as if the possibility of conceiving the offspring of an archangel truly horrified her.

  And she was right to be horrified. Except Aurora would—could—never conceive his child.

  He closed his eyes and once again rolled onto his back. No other woman had ever thought or dared to raise this with him. It was no issue with those who possessed immortal blood, and as for the others they either knew the chances of conception were zero or else they harbored a secret desire to bear his child against all the odds.

  “Archangels don’t procreate.” They hadn’t done so for millennia. “Trust me. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  She stirred and he knew she was once again looking down at him. He kept his eyes shut. Tried not to see Helena’s sweet smile, the unruly curls that framed her face or hear her enchanting laughter echo through his brain.

  “Why don’t I? You’ve got all the right equipment. And you can’t tell me angels don’t procreate, because I know they do.”

  He looked up at her, but couldn’t summon the energy to glare. Because she was right. But she had no right to throw that in his face. No right to question his word.

  Had he really thought she would accept his denial without contradiction?

  Resignation at the knowledge that Aurora would never simply accept his word without discussion weaved through his mind as he weighed up what to tell her. But then her eyes widened in apparent alarm and she brushed the tips of her fingers over his shoulder. Oddly, the gesture seemed conciliatory, but that made no sense.

  “I’m sorry, I mean, well, if the myths of angels are true I’m just guessing so are the stories of the”—she hesitated for a second, clearly searching for the right word—“Nephilim?”

  Fuck, would she not just shut up? This conversation was killing him from the inside out. And Aurora didn’t have a clue.

  “Yes.” His voice was harsh and he sat up, dislodging Aurora’s soothing caress. “But like everything from antiquity humankind has corrupted the truth.” He knew the stories that polluted the histories of Earth when it came to the beloved Nephilim. It was one of the reasons why he had little time for those born on this planet. “Despite the fact that we have all the right equipment archangels were never intended to procreate. And yet some did. But only with what you might quaintly refer to as their soul mate.”

  Soul mate. The words tasted sour on his tongue but the appalled look on Aurora’s face told him she had instantly understood all the implications associated with that hated term.

  “I’m sorry.” Her whisper brushed against his shoulder and something in her tone pierced through the memories that threatened to overtake him.

  “It’s all right.” It wasn’t all right. It would never be all right. But Aurora sounded so genuinely distressed, and looked so convincingly contrite, that he couldn’t help but try to reassure her.

  Didn’t make sense. Neither her reaction to his admission or his instinctive need to convince her there was nothing for her to apologize for. He dragged his fingers through his hair and craved alcohol to deaden the ache in his brain.

  “I didn’t mean to pry.” Her voice was soft, as if she confessed to a great sin. He sighed heavily. She had not the first conception of how mightily he had sinned. Or how horrific a price his loved ones had paid.

  She never would.

  “Go to sleep, Aurora.” He looked at her then, as she sat facing him on his bed. She was only a mortal, a human from Earth, and yet in the last few moments he had shared more with her than he had with anyone in millennia.

  The knowledge caused his gut to tighten and again that inexplicable rope of panic coiled like a poisonous serpent. Before he could be tempted to pull her into his arms and lose himself once again in the welcoming heat of her flesh he turned, picked up the dagger and left the bed.

  She didn’t say anything. Didn’t try to stop him. At the door he battled against the urge to turn once more and look at her. To see if she was watching him.

  But he didn’t. Instead he went into his office, his haven, and pulled open the top drawer in his desk.

  Helena laughed up at him from the one and only picture that remained of her. His gaze slid to her mother and even now, even after all these endless centuries, the familiar pain of futile fury and hopeless devotion ripped through his heart. He had been unable to save either of them. They were gone. And they could never return.

  Eleni. His first love. His only love.

  Eleni had driven him insane with her smart mouth and inability to acknowledge his archangelic superiority. But then, Eleni hadn’t been a mere human. She’d had the right to question him and insult him. She possessed noble blood and status of her own. Her pride in her Nephilim heritage shone through everything she said, everything she did. She bowed to no man and no immortal, and despite fighting her charms for more than three years, his surrender was inevitable.

  He’d irrevocably fallen the moment he looked into her fearless dark eyes. Had fallen more surely every time they spoke, every time she refused his advances, and every time she laughed at his attempts to dominate.

  Because she’d known. Right from the start she’d known they belonged together and theirs was a partnership of equals.

  Forty years. That’s all they’d had together. And the miracle of creating Helena.

  He shoved the memories back into the dark corners of his consciousness and opened his laptop. Eblis, who had no compunction listening into the thoughts and telepathic communication of those who frequented his den, recalled a group of pirates had been discussing the home solar system of the missing child, Evalyne. Gabe logged on and accessed all the information he could find on the small galaxy of Fornax, where Eblis said the pirates had originated from.

  It wasn’t much to go on, but at least it was a start.

  Chapter Twenty<
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  AURORA stretched and a muffled groan escaped. Her entire body ached, inside and out, and as she gingerly curled back into a ball a flicker of heat warmed her heart.

  That was the price demanded after hours of raw, uninhibited sex.

  It took a few seconds for her brain to realize that she was smiling like an idiot instead of . . . Well, how was a girl supposed to feel after spending the night with an archangel? Absolutely knackered seemed to sum it up perfectly.

  Finally she forced open one eye. She was still lying at the wrong end of the bed, and she was alone. Hadn’t Gabe returned at all after he’d left her this morning?

  She chewed her lip and rolled onto her back, wincing at her protesting muscles. At some point she must’ve pulled a cover over herself, and she wrapped it around her breasts as she sat up, pushing her hair off her face.

  Sunlight streamed in through the wide glass doors that led to the balcony, and for a moment she gazed at the distant rainforest. A tiny corner of her mind wondered at the sheer impossibility of everything that had happened over the last couple of days. But it was faint, insubstantial, as if that section of her consciousness did not quite belong to her. Because what did it matter how impossible everything was?

  The only thing that did matter was it had happened and it was possible. She needed to focus on that. After all, she was living proof that one person’s fantasy was another person’s reality. How many people did she know who would have believed her if she’d told them of her mother’s true heritage?

  The ruined fishnet stockings were still tied around her wrists, and as she tugged at the knots she wondered where Gabe was. Had he gone out? What exactly did an archangel do all day? Finally giving up on the knots, she slid out of bed and picked up Gabe’s discarded shirt. It smelled darkly erotic and seductively dangerous and she smothered a sigh as she pulled it over her head.

  He fascinated her and aroused her like no other man she had ever met before in her life. Sure, he had the added advantage of immortality but it wasn’t that. It was the flashes of the man she saw beneath the archangel that really intrigued her.

  But even then, there was more. He’d not only rescued her from the Guardians but had then openly given her his protection. She knew Mephisto had been goading Gabe. Knew the winged bastard was only out to cause trouble. But Gabe, despite his foul mood, hadn’t deserted her. And while it might gall that she’d been at his mercy there was no point wasting energy on useless anger. She was a mortal in a world of angels and demons.

  On Eta Hyperium, when she’d thought herself safe from the Guardians, she’d been so desperate to escape that she’d decided to put her theory of traveling without breaching dimensions to the test. She’d focused her psychic energy on her home in Ireland, but that was as far as she’d got before Gabe had pulled her back. Had saved her ass yet again. He could be impossibly arrogant at times, but until she could work out a way of returning home without alerting the Guardians she’d make allowances for Gabe’s occasional egotistical outbursts.

  As she slowly made her way toward the bedroom door, pain enveloped her breast. How could she not make allowances after his heartbreaking confession during the night? She had almost admitted to having gone through his personal treasures. Resentment had bubbled at his barefaced lie that angels didn’t procreate. Then her wounded pride crumbled as the depth of agony that underpinned his every word finally hit her.

  It didn’t matter how long ago his woman and child had died. He still loved them. Would always love them. And he loved them so fiercely that he still couldn’t speak about them.

  The door to his office was open. Gabe was asleep, arms folded on his desk, head cradled on his arms. She sagged against the doorframe, unable to tear her gaze from him.

  He didn’t look like an archangel. He looked like a man exhausted by grief and ancient heartache.

  No. She wouldn’t fall for him. She wanted him, yes. She could accept that. He fascinated her and despite his lord-and-master routine she kind of . . . liked him, too.

  If all they shared was smoking sex and a casual friendship then there was nothing to stop her from walking away when the time came. And that time would come. She knew it wouldn’t be easy. Gabe wasn’t the type a girl could walk away from without regrets but at least she would be able to.

  But if she fell in love with him? How could she walk away then and expect to get her life back on track?

  She wrapped her arms around her waist and still couldn’t drag her eyes away from him. Panic knotted deep in her gut and her chest tightened as the alternative hammered through her mind.

  He expected her to remain here for the rest of her life. She would never see her family again. As her mother had never seen her family again. And while her mother loved her father and was happy to stay with him, eventually her mind had closed down under the strain.

  Her mother clung to the edges of sanity by insisting there was only one world. This world. But by denying her heritage she scrubbed her mind of all telepathic links, the precious link Aurora had shared with her since birth. But even that hadn’t been enough to halt the fog that clouded her mind.

  Fear wound through the panic, tightening the noose. She might not have traveled to another dimension like her mother had, but if she stayed here—secluded and isolated from the rest of the world—she might just as well have. Would she wake up one day and believe this was all there was? That her life up until meeting Gabe had been nothing but a strange, barely recalled dream?

  Gabe expelled a heavy sigh, frowned and rolled his shoulders in a slow, languorous movement. She watched, fascinated by the poetic play of his muscles as he passed from slumber into consciousness.

  It would be way too easy to fall for him. Way too easy to agree with his plans without pushing forward her own ideas and suggestions. But while her dad loved her mum with all his heart and soul and would do anything for her, all Gabe felt for her was lust and a sense of responsibility.

  If she allowed herself to feel anything more than desire for him, eventually her heart would wither. She didn’t want to think what might become of her after that. Because it wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t going to let it happen.

  And then she realized Gabe was looking at her.

  Stay calm. Stay in control. Control was of paramount importance. She would not allow her emotions to rule.

  “Hi.” She hoped she sounded casual and not as if her brain was about to explode.

  He didn’t answer but he did give her a long, assessing once-over. The expression on his face suggested he didn’t much care for the fact she was once again wearing one of his shirts.

  She shifted self-consciously, and through force of habit her fingers went to curl around her necklace. Except her necklace was no longer around her throat. She smothered the sense of loss that stabbed through her at the realization that Mephisto had likely destroyed it and forced herself to remain still. Just because Gabe was perfectly comfortable wandering around his home completely naked didn’t mean she intended to do the same.

  Finally he grunted by way of greeting, swiveled the chair so he was facing her, and it was blatantly obvious he was more than ready for a repeat of that morning.

  With more willpower than she knew she possessed, Aurora kept her gaze fixed on his face. It didn’t stop her from noticing the size of his erection though, or prevent the sharp tug of desire low in her womb.

  “I’ve been thinking.” Her treacherous gaze flicked to his groin and she all but forgot about the half-formed plans that had drifted through her mind as she’d woken. Concentrate. She gave herself a sharp mental slap, jerked her head up and caught the half-smile on his lips, the smolder in his eyes. It was obvious what he was thinking.

  “Come here.” His voice was smoky, seductive, and she’d taken a step into his office before she even realized.

  “Gabe.” It was hard to speak. He always did that to her. Would she always find him this irresistible if, by some incredible chance, they stayed together for any length of
time? “Do you have the Internet?”

  His lazy smile faltered. “The what?” He sounded incredulous. As if it was inconceivable she could think of anything but him when in his naked presence.

  Well, he wasn’t exactly wrong. She struggled to remember her point.

  “The Internet. Well, an email connection really.” Her phone was still dead and she had a feeling it had nothing to do with the battery needing a charge. “So I can let my parents know I’m still alive.” Then she could at least stop worrying about them thinking the worst and concentrate on formulating her plans.

  He was silent for a moment as though it had never occurred to him that she’d want to do such a thing.

  “I can hook up a connection for you. But you can’t tell them what’s happened.”

  “I know that.” She wanted to reassure them, not frightened them half to death. “I’ll just say I had to leave unexpectedly but I’ll be in touch soon.”

  “Aurora.” For a second she thought she saw regret in his eyes. “Don’t go making plans to meet up with them. I can’t guarantee your safety outside my island.”

  “I wasn’t going to.” And the reason she hadn’t planned on doing any such thing was because her plans were aimed in another direction entirely. “So, about this Internet. Is it some kind of cosmic web?” She forced a smile and hoped it didn’t feel as fake as it felt. “I don’t think I’m going to find many answers on the regular net, do you?”

  He was silent for a few seconds as if digesting her comments and finding them unpalatable. “What kind of answers?”

  “I thought I’d research the Guardians. See if I could find a loophole in their logic or something.”

  “There is no loophole.” Irritation filled the air. “Do you think I haven’t thought of that?”

  She glanced at his desk. It was as clear as it had been yesterday.

  “You mean you—is that what you were doing this morning? Researching for a loophole?”