Fuck, so much for changing the subject. “Why would she be?” It took more effort than he wanted to admit to keep his voice nonchalant.
“No chance of meeting this irresistible female, then?” Azrael sounded keener to meet Aurora than he had any right to.
“I’m on my way out.” And even if he wasn’t, there was no way he’d let Azrael, with his insubstantial suspicions, near Aurora.
Azrael gave him a probing look that Gabe didn’t like in the least. “Let me know when you’re ready to share your little human. She must really be something for you to put yourself out so much.” And with that he teleported.
Scowling, Gabe contacted Mephisto.
What did you discover in the astral planes? Mephisto would know exactly what he meant.
There was a significant pause, as if the other archangel was deliberating as to whether or not he would deign to respond.
Quit panicking. The insulting command only failed to rouse Gabe’s ire because of the odd underlying sense of . . . unease. I’ve cleaned up your crap. There’s nothing to trace back to you.
With that enigmatic statement Mephisto cut their line of communication. Gabe glanced up at his balcony, frowning. He knew Mephisto liked talking in riddles and he was more than willing to shoulder the blame if it saved Aurora’s head. But why, when they both obviously knew the truth, had Mephisto made it sound as if the collapse on the astral planes was due to him—and not Aurora?
Chapter Twenty-three
ALTHOUGH Aurora knew she was being unreasonable she couldn’t help feeling aggravated that Gabe had left without even the courtesy of telling her where he was going. She embraced the irritation, replayed every derogatory comment and look he’d shot her way since the moment they’d met, but her strategy just wasn’t working.
How could she stay mad with him when he’d gone to the effort of bringing all her clothes and personal things for her? It was the last thing she’d expected and she was still having trouble processing what it meant.
As she pulled on a pair of shorts and a sleeveless top, she acknowledged it probably meant nothing. She was reading too much into it, even though she didn’t want to. Because once a girl started dreaming that a hot guy was being considerate and caring because he felt something for her, she was in deep trouble.
Especially when the hot guy in question was an ageless archangel.
With a groan that sounded suspiciously like defeat she hauled her clothes into his dressing room. The exquisitely crafted timber wardrobe set into the wall was massive, but it was also pretty much full. She squeezed her things inside regardless. It was only a temporary arrangement, after all.
She held on to that thought with grim determination as she unpacked the rucksack and piled everything on the floor of his bedroom. And only then did she notice her necklace lying on the bed.
Relief streaked through her. Mephisto hadn’t destroyed it after all. She picked it up by the delicate gold chain and went to the balcony doors. Sunlight streamed in, causing the tiny rainbows and flecks of gold to shimmer and glitter like a minuscule fantasy world. After emailing her parents, her first priority was to discover all she could about the Guardians. But it wouldn’t hurt if she performed a quick search of angelic artifacts, would it?
—
NOTHING. SHE COULDN’T believe it. She’d been hunting the cosmic Internet for what seemed like hours and although there was plenty of stuff about angels, a great deal of it sounded the universal equivalent of an unverified Wikipedia. And that was after she’d taken account of the sometimes bizarre translations.
It was all generalized and frequently contradictory. As if everything relied on gossip and speculation according to whichever civilization happened to be the author of that particular entry.
If any information was out there, the ancient truth of the angels had been long buried in the cloudy stream of time. And when, feeling horribly guilty, she’d tried digging into the mystery of the Archangel Gabriel, she’d plowed through a dozen sites before finally accepting the frustrating truth.
It all appeared based on myth and speculation. None of it came close to the complex man—archangel—she knew.
She propped her elbows on the kitchen table and cradled her head. This was hopeless. Nothing had so far even come close to showing her a replica of her necklace, and she had the feeling nothing ever would. Because no one, apart from the angels themselves, knew anything about those precious artifacts.
Well, that was an odd thought. She sat back and curled her fingers around the butterfly wings but still the certainty persisted. And then another unassailable conviction gripped her.
The angels crafted the necklace as a token of their devotion for their beloved. And the tradition had evolved, and perished, in antiquity.
A shiver scuttled over her arms. Where were those thoughts coming from? And why was she so certain that they were true? It was kind of creepy and she hit the delete key, wiping the screen.
Discovering hidden secrets of the angels wasn’t going to set her free. She needed to unearth something solid and usable about the Guardians.
—
EBLIS HADN’T KNOWN which pirate tribe had been discussing the Medana solar system in his den, so Gabe had visited the most disreputable. They were known for trading minors from the more primitive planets in the Fornax Galaxy, which was one thing, but taking them from another Galaxy altogether wasn’t something that could be allowed to go unpunished, even if he hadn’t been investigating Evalyne’s disappearance.
He’d not got much from the first two he interrogated, whose minds were putrid and disintegrated like overripe fruit as he ripped them to shreds in search of information. The third pirate, desperate to save his skin and mind intact, spewed names and dates and garbled confessions of underground cults, none of which made any sense because who the hell could be after angel blood? The only piece of information that appeared likely to warrant further investigation was the brief mention of the largest planet in the seventh system of Fornax.
But he filed all the information away just in case. And then he severed the pirate’s spinal column.
—
GABE TOOK A shower as soon as he returned to scrub the stench of the pirates from his body. It was good to be home where Aurora waited for him. She was clean, pure and would doubtless regale him with the myriad conflicting data she’d unearthed on the Guardians.
And then his mind stumbled and the half-smile on his lips froze. Home? When was the last time that word had so easily slipped into his consciousness?
He knew when. He refused to remember. Because the last time he’d had a home Eleni lived there.
—
AURORA KNEW THE exact moment Gabe returned, even though he didn’t walk in through the front door. In fact, he didn’t make any sound at all but that was irrelevant. His presence brushed through her, almost tangible, and she glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see him.
The kitchen was still empty. The villa was still silent. But even so, Gabe was home.
She stood up, stretching her cramped muscles, and realized how hungry she was. It had been hours since she’d eaten the fruit. It was getting dark already.
What had he been doing? She climbed the stairs, entered his bedroom and heard the shower through the open bathroom door.
What did she think he’d been doing? It wasn’t as if he had a regular nine-to-five job, was it? And where had he gone the last time he’d left her?
A sex club.
She folded her arms and tried not to acknowledge the searing hurt in her chest. Honestly, she was pathetic to care that he’d most probably been out screwing other girls. It wasn’t as if they had any kind of relationship here, was it?
He was an archangel. His sex drive was phenomenal, going by how quickly he’d recovered this morning, and he’d probably be amazed if he guessed how deeply his betrayal wounded her.
Except it wasn’t betrayal. God, she had to get a grip on reality. He’d rescued her, taken her back to his villa and she, like an
idiot, had tumbled into his bed with hardly a squeak of protest.
She had nobody but herself to blame for the way she was feeling.
The shower stopped. She straightened her spine and forcibly relaxed her tense muscles. She couldn’t let him see how easily he could hurt her. This was, in fact, a great wake-up call because despite all her protests she knew damn well she was in serious danger of falling for him.
He strolled into the bedroom, a damp, gorgeous god of creation, and the smile he bestowed her way had her stomach tightening and skin tingling.
Just with a smile. Then again, his smile was a thing of heavenly magnificence.
“You’re back.” As inane remarks went, that had to take the cherry on the proverbial cake. She refused to break eye contact, even though she longed to feast her gaze on his semi-aroused cock. Which she knew, in spite of her best intentions of not looking, was thickening by the second.
Was that all he ever did? Indulge in sex all day and all night? She gritted her teeth into an approximation of a smile and ignored the treacherous tug low in her womb. She wouldn’t fall into his arms the moment he returned. That would just make her look sex-deprived and desperate for his attention.
“And I’m starving.” His eyes darkened, and it was obvious he wasn’t talking about food. She curled her nails into the palms of her hands to stop herself from wrapping herself around him. She had some pride left.
“Good.” Unfortunately her voice was husky and far from showing him that she, at least, didn’t require endless sex in order to function. She dug her nails in harder to focus her ravenous libido. “So am I. What did you bring back?”
He blinked, glorious long eyelashes that he had no right possessing and certainly had no right flaunting in her direction. But still she stared, mesmerized, only vaguely acknowledging the bemused frown that now creased his forehead.
“Ah.” He sounded uncharacteristically off-balance. “Food. I forgot.”
Because he was too busy shagging every woman who crossed his path.
She kept on smiling even though every muscle in her face ached like an infected abscess.
“I suppose you ate while you were out.” With difficulty she relaxed her fingers before her nails tore holes through her hands. “Well, don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll find something in your kitchen.”
He came closer. She wondered how long she could hold her breath before passing out. Why did he have to smell so delicious? Like an exotic rainforest. Dangerous and forbidden.
“I haven’t eaten all day.” He curled one hand around the bedpost, an action she was positive he did deliberately in order to show off his perfectly proportioned biceps. She tore her fascinated gaze from his bronzed muscles and tried not to glare into his face. He appeared supremely oblivious to the fact she was seething with . . . resentment.
“Oh.” It was getting harder to speak. She’d have to retreat because once he touched her she had the feeling she’d forget all the reasons why she had to make a stand with him.
“I’ll go get something.” His smoldering gaze drifted over her, from head to toe and back again, scorching her skin like a lick of flame. “Later.”
Her nipples hardened and molten tremors attacked low in her belly. He could seduce her with barely a glance, make her come with scarcely a touch. She forced her feet to move. Away from him.
“Well, okay.” She injected a breezy note in her voice but it sounded more like a breathless whimper. “I can tell you what I found out first if you like. I thought we could talk while we eat but I’m easy.” He already knew that. It wasn’t a happy thought.
For a moment he continued staring at her, as if he wasn’t sure whether she was pulling his leg or was genuinely ignorant of his true intentions. Then he relinquished his grip on the bedpost and strolled toward his dressing room.
Her mouth dried. He had a seriously sexy rear. Her fingers itched to stroke his tight butt, to feel his warm flesh beneath hers. A tiny moan escaped and she hastily turned it into a cough. Gabe, thank god, didn’t appear to notice.
“Discovered a loophole?” Gabe tossed a glance over his shoulder as he pulled on a pair of black jeans. She stared, and the only coherent thought she had was he’s going commando.
When he turned around and slowly tugged the material over his far from disinterested erection, she let out a faint wheeze and struggled to regain eye contact.
He had a mocking grin on his face as if he knew full well the effect he had on her. Since that fact had already been well and truly established she didn’t see why he had to act so smug about it.
“Not yet.” Her voice was husky. She tried clearing her throat. “Does anyone actually police your net to make sure the information is accurate? Because for every so-called fact I discovered I then found another that said the exact opposite.”
And she wasn’t just referring to the Guardians. But he didn’t have to know that.
Gabe shrugged and pulled out a black shirt. She’d never before considered watching a man get dressed could be an erotic experience but every casual move he made was tying her up into knots of sensual frustration.
“It works on a similar principle to the Internet here on Earth. You can’t believe everything you read online.” He appeared to find that amusing, as if she was incredibly naïve to have imagined otherwise. “It’s a resource but it’s not infallible. Occasionally it’s just plain entertaining.”
“Luckily I managed to work that out.” She offered him a tight smile, irritated he hadn’t thought to tell her that before he’d left the villa. It would certainly have lowered her expectations of tapping into a fantastical repository of mind-blowing revelations. “But one thing did keep cropping up. The Guardians apparently hate immortals even more than they do humans.” She folded her arms. “Except they aren’t allowed to abduct immortals. Isn’t that convenient?”
“It is for us.”
“So is it true their species was around for thousands of years before any of the gods or goddesses came into being?” That was another thing she’d found incredibly frustrating. She could follow a fascinating lead only for it to taper off into an insubstantial mist. So while several sources had categorically stated the Guardians’ loathing of the Immortals, exactly who or what or where they might be was annoyingly unspecified.
“Yes. They’ve been a malignant curse of Creation for seeming eternity.” Gabe no longer sounded amused, he sounded disgusted. “They should have died out long before the Alphas evolved.”
Aurora forgot about being annoyed with Gabe’s attitude. “The Alphas?” She took an unintentional step toward him. He’d mentioned them before but she still didn’t know for sure what he meant. “What are they?”
He shoved his bare feet into black sneakers. “Megalomaniac pains in the ass. Grab some plates and glasses. Won’t be long.” And with that he tossed her a smile of pure evil, and vanished.
Chapter Twenty-four
BACK in the kitchen Aurora struggled against the surreal sensation of normalcy. Gabe had popped out for a takeaway and she was placing the finest porcelain and crystalware on the table. Anyone would think they were just a regular couple intending to enjoy a quiet night in together.
Except Gabe’s version of popping out was anything but conventional, and only a seriously deluded woman would think there was anything in the least bit regular about her current situation.
She knew all that. But it made no difference. Because a tiny, obstinate core of her insisted that this was perfectly . . . normal.
Even when he reappeared without warning she didn’t drop the heavy silver cutlery. She was getting used to his extraordinary method of transportation, as though she’d been aware of such things all her life.
If that wasn’t a warning about how easy it was to lose her grip on reality she didn’t know what was.
“Wild salmon with asparagus and tournedos of beef,” he said. “I didn’t know what you’d like so I bought the lot.”
“American Express?” She was joking but on
ly partially. Did Gabe pay for stuff? Why on earth would an archangel need to pay for things in any case? And, although she supposed it didn’t really matter, did this food even originate on planet Earth?
“MasterCard,” he said deadpan. “For the air miles.”
She pulled off a lid and the breathtaking sight of a crown pavlova, topped with strawberries and blueberries, made her stomach growl.
“Yeah, I can see you need them.” She flashed him a grin because it was so hard to remain mad with him. Especially when she knew that he didn’t deserve it.
Charm radiated from him like a lethal pheromone. It probably wasn’t even intentional. She could either spend the next who knew how long fighting the attraction between them or taking it all at face value and nothing else.
Like a holiday romance. No commitment. No strings. And she wouldn’t let her imagination go wild every time he left the villa.
Great intentions. She doubted she’d live up to them.
“But seriously. Do you really have credit cards? Money?”
“Sure.” He strolled to a door that earlier that day she discovered led to a cellar. She hadn’t investigated further. She’d watched too many slasher movies as a teen to fall for that one. “My investments have the potential to topple governments both here and on a couple of other worlds. It’s not that hard to amass a fortune when you’re considered immortal.” He disappeared through the door. “You could call it a hobby of mine.”
“That and sex,” she muttered as she sat at the table. Hardly aware of her actions, she pulled her chain from beneath her top and curled her fingers around the familiar pendant.
“I heard that.” His voice echoed from the depths of the cellar, and she felt her face heat. He also, apparently, had supersonic hearing. “Are you offering hors d’oeuvres?” He stepped back into the kitchen, holding a couple of dust-covered bottles of wine and wearing a lascivious grin. “Because we can always reheat the food later.”
Insatiable. Forlorn acceptance whispered through her mind, along with the resignation that she, a mere mortal, would never be able to satisfy his carnal cravings. So much for not letting her wild imagination run away with her. He didn’t even have to leave the villa for her to agonize about his infidelity.
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