Archangel of Mercy

by Christina Ashcroft

The thought was absolute, as if it was ancient knowledge. And with it came a cold, white fury that ignited her paralyzed brain and pumped blood through her deadened fingers. She straightened her spine, pushed back with her mind and psychically felt Mephisto recoil in hideous, incomprehensible denial.

  “Who the hell are you to intimidate me?” Her words, imbued with contempt, echoed in her ears. But where had they come from? It felt like she was continuing a conversation long since discarded.

  Mephisto’s eyes widened in disbelief. But it was more than that; it was something inexplicable. Because he looked, for one fleeting second, as if he’d been shaken to the core of his existence.

  A dull thud echoed behind her and then Gabe was there, gripping Mephisto’s biceps, and the unsettling connection severed.

  “Back off.” His voice was low. A deadly warning.

  Mephisto wrenched himself free, his glare never leaving Aurora. “What the fuck”—Mephisto’s voice was low, oddly hushed—“have you done?”

  Shivers skated over Aurora’s arms. Was he talking to her? What did he mean? That there were further repercussions of breaching dimensions that she had yet to learn?

  Gabe appeared oblivious to Mephisto’s strange behavior. “Don’t come near Aurora again.”

  Finally Mephisto tore his gaze from Aurora. “She’s just a human.” Was it her imagination or did he sound as if he was trying to convince himself as much as Gabe? Then he stepped back, unfurled his wings and clenched his fists. “Think about it, Gabe. Is it really worth it?”

  “Get out of here.” Gabe sounded feral.

  Mephisto gave her one last condemning glance. And then he teleported.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  GABE battened down the rabid desire to follow Mephisto’s trail and hammer the crap out of him. How dare he manhandle Aurora? Even the thought was enough to twist his guts and cause his blood to steam with impotent rage.

  But even as he took her hand and saw the way she gritted her teeth against the pain, he knew it was more than rage. More than fury that another archangel had dared to disregard the ancient bonds of ownership and touch a mortal under his protection.

  He tried to ignore it. Rage he could deal with. But not fear. Not the fear that he might have arrived too late to save her. That Mephisto might, despite everything, have pillaged Aurora’s mind and left a vacant, broken creature in her place.

  “This might hurt.” He enveloped her injured hand between his. Mephisto, the sadistic bastard, had partially torn fragile tendons and muscle. Nothing he couldn’t fix but that wasn’t the fucking point. “You’d better sit down.”

  “I’m all right.” She glanced at his hands before looking back up at him. “You can heal.” It wasn’t a question. Then she sucked in a sharp breath and his frown deepened. He was trying to go slow, trying to be gentle, but until he’d finished her brain would register acute pain. “Can you bring back the dead as well?”

  “No.” For a second he broke his concentration to look at her. Her teeth were clenched and her face was drained of color but she met his gaze and even offered him a grimace that she clearly believed resembled a reassuring smile. For some reason it caused an odd stabbing sensation through his chest. “Bringing back the dead doesn’t tend to go too well. Healing others is just a side benefit of our innate ability to rejuvenate.”

  She let out a huff of laughter. “Good job Meph didn’t go straight for the mind-suck then.”

  Meph? Had she just called Mephisto Meph? No one called the other archangel that, apart from Zad. Gabe wasn’t even convinced Mephisto liked Zad abbreviating his name but he’d definitely not heard anyone else use the term.

  Except for Eleni. And the only reason she had used the name was because she knew how much it rankled.

  “He won’t come near you again.” Again the rage surged, but it was more than rage. Less than rage. Because the fear fed on the rage and diminished it until only the fear remained. Shit. He focused on her healing injuries, slowly released his psychic grip. “He had no right coming here frightening you.”

  “Good job the cavalry arrived in time, huh?” She flexed her fingers and he saw the awe on her face. “Wow. You’re good.”

  The color was returning to her cheeks, her eyes were no longer shadowed with pain, and she wasn’t shivering in terror that the most powerful archangel in existence had almost destroyed her.

  Probably because she had no idea how close she’d come. Just as well. He didn’t want her worrying about Mephisto as well as the Guardians.

  “Should be as good as new. Let me know if you get any twinges.”

  She curled her healed hand against her breasts and flattened her other hand against his heart. Such a light touch yet he felt the imprint of her palm and fingers scorch his flesh through his shirt.

  Gods, he wanted her. Wanted to hold her and touch her and know that she really was all right. Wanted to lose himself inside her again, to reach that elusive pinnacle where, for a few blissful moments, his guilt receded and peace bathed his soul.

  “Thanks, Gabe.” Her voice was soft and her blue eyes hypnotized him. “I might have held him off for a few seconds but I know how close he was to pulverizing my brain.”

  For a second he was tempted to tell her that of course Mephisto had no intention of truly pulverizing her brain. It was odd, this compunction he had to protect Aurora from the harsh truths. And it didn’t even make any sense. Because she already knew the truth.

  “He won’t make that mistake twice.” He and Mephisto would most likely never cross paths again until Aurora—

  The thought seared his brain. Until Aurora was dead. And a human lived only a few score years at most. No time at all when compared to the lifespan of an archangel. He would have his island back and Mephisto would put this day into the archives and resume their previous relationship as if nothing had come between them.

  A few score years. A fleeting lifespan. An eternity alone.

  “I’m sorry about your laptop.” Aurora’s hands were now on his shoulders, her warm body all but touching him. Alive. She was alive now and now was all they had. But instead of scooping her into his arms and taking her inside and fucking her until this unnatural knot of panic subsided, he sat on her chair and cradled her with his thighs.

  “It’s fixable.” And even if it wasn’t, so what? It was only a piece of technology, manufactured by one of the most advanced civilizations in the Andromeda Galaxies. An irreparably damaged laptop could be replaced. But if Aurora had died—

  There was only one Aurora.

  He molded the seductive curve of her hips and cradled her waist. She was human, a mortal. So fragile that if he held his breath he could hear the beat of her heart, the rush of her blood in her veins. By rights he should have tired of her already and yet he couldn’t get enough. Even this morning he hadn’t wanted to leave the bed. Had wanted to remain, basking in the afterglow. Had wanted to take her again.

  Only her clear exhaustion and inability to keep her eyes open for longer than a few sleepy seconds had prevented him from following through with his insatiable lust. A lust he hadn’t experienced for millennia. When was the last time a single female had so ensnared his libido?

  But she was only human. And he couldn’t expect her to match his desire. Not unless he wanted her permanently semi-conscious with fatigue.

  Once, that was exactly all he wanted from her.

  “Gabe.” There was an unmistakable note of concern in her voice and his fingers tightened involuntarily around her waist. He didn’t want her permanently worrying, either. “Is the fact you saved me from the Guardians causing you problems with—well, anyone?”

  She was worrying about him? “Wouldn’t matter to me even if you were.” He tugged her closer, breathed in deep, relishing her purity. It had been forever since someone had showed such simple concern for him. “The only ones who might have complained gave up all pretense at responsibility millennia ago.”

  Aurora framed his face with her hands, strokin
g her thumbs over his cheekbones. His overnight shadow grazed her skin, erotic and evocative. It had never occurred to her before that archangels might shave.

  But it was hard to remember he was an immortal when he held her like this. When, every time she looked at him, she didn’t see the archangel but the man.

  Despite his fantastical eyes. And despite the scene that had so recently taken place when he had resembled anything but a normal, mortal male.

  “You mean the Alphas?” He’d mentioned them twice in passing, but she’d not come across any references to them while researching. She still didn’t know exactly how they fitted into Gabe’s personal world except for the fact that compared to them he didn’t consider himself immortal.

  “You don’t need to worry about them. They never come anywhere near this side of the universe anymore. Too primitive for them.”

  She hadn’t been worrying about them for herself but it appeared she didn’t need to worry on Gabe’s behalf, either. Maybe all Mephisto had meant was he considered she, personally, was a burden to Gabe.

  Weird. Almost as if Mephisto actually cared about someone other than himself.

  “But what—who—are they? Kind of like your ancestors?”

  He sighed heavily as if he didn’t want to talk about it but was prepared to humor her. A strange little pain weaved through her heart at the knowledge he was slowly opening up to her. Maybe without him even realizing it.

  “The Alpha Immortals are ancient. The forebears of all immortals alive today.”

  A tiny warning in the back of her mind urged her to show some level of restraint. But she wanted to touch him. Wanted to feel his hands on her, holding her as if she belonged to him. And on this island they did belong to each other. No matter what her head kept telling her, she couldn’t help the overwhelming sensation that Gabe felt more than base lust.

  It had been in his voice as he’d healed her hand. In the furtive glances he shot her every time she’d winced. It wasn’t love and it couldn’t lead anywhere permanent. But for now, it was enough.

  Because now was all they would ever have.

  He rolled his shoulders, as if his muscles ached, and then looked directly at her. His gaze was intense, focused entirely on her, and she knew that now would never be enough.

  “Are there many of them? The Alphas?” She loved his eyes. She could drown in their mystical depths and die in ecstasy.

  “Countless.” There was a husky note in his voice. But he didn’t slip his hands beneath her T-shirt or tug her closer. “They’re all wasting away on the far side of the universe.” His eyes darkened and again she waited for him to pull impatiently at her clothes. Except he didn’t.

  “So who’s in charge?” She forked her fingers through his hair, tugging his head back. The heat from his hands enveloped her waist and desire kicked in hard and brutal low in her womb. No matter that they had spent most of the night having sex, or that he’d possibly just returned from another woman’s bed.

  She still wanted him again.

  He gave her a mocking grin as if her question was amusing. But still he didn’t make any attempt to take up her unspoken offer. It was almost as if he was deliberately holding back. Except why would he do such a thing? He never had before.

  And it wasn’t because he’d lost interest. Arousal thudded in the air between them, thick and sensuous, and if she could feel it then she was damn sure he could.

  “Who’s in charge? What of, the universe?” He was laughing at her, but she didn’t mind because the way his eyes crinkled and lips curved entranced her. “No one. Everyone. You know how it is.”

  She had no idea how it was, and yet in a way she knew exactly what he meant.

  “Fate and destiny?” She’d never really believed in either, despite the extraordinary way her parents had met and come together. But now she was willing to seriously consider almost anything.

  “Why not.” It wasn’t a question and his hold on her relaxed as he shifted restlessly on the chair as if her touch disturbed him. He glanced at the shattered laptop. “I’ll order a new laptop. Shouldn’t take long to arrive. I have contacts.” He offered her a mocking grin.

  He was putting her off. But he wanted her. It was obvious by the tension in his muscles and the erratic rise and fall of his chest. Intrigued, she trapped his jaw between her palms and forced him to look at her. His eyes were dark, his teeth clenched. And as she leaned in closer the tantalizing scent of hot, aroused male flooded her senses.

  There was no hint of feminine perfume, tang of sex or residual damp from a recent, hasty shower. No evidence at all that he’d spent the time away from this island today in the arms of another woman.

  Slowly she speared her fingers into his hair, cradling his temples with her palms. He looked up at her, his expression indefinable, but awareness sizzled in the air, electrifying the light touch of his fingers at her waist.

  “Your contacts”—her voice was low, breathless and appeared to hypnotize Gabe—“can wait.”

  “Are you giving me another order?” As he spoke he finally slid his fingers beneath her top and tremors of pure sensation raced over her skin. The muscles of his already rock-hard thighs tightened, enslaving her. “You do know who I am, don’t you?”

  She leaned in closer, their breath mingling, and raked her fingers through his silken hair before grasping handfuls and jerking his head back.

  “Yes.” He was the Archangel Gabriel. But he was so much more than that. “You’re the man I want. You got a problem with that?”

  He laughed and wound his arms around her waist as if he imagined she might try and escape.

  An insubstantial thought flickered through the back of her mind. She did need to escape this island. But she never wanted to escape Gabe’s arms.

  “Do I look like I have a problem with it?”

  He looked utterly irresistible when he laughed with her, when it was a struggle to recall he wasn’t just an ordinary guy but an immortal. Looking at him now, as he grinned up at her as if he hadn’t a care in the world—the universe—how easy it would be to think he had no concept of suffering or loss.

  But she’d seen beneath his arrogant façade to the mortal beneath. His loss, no matter how long ago it had occurred, was still raw.

  Was this moment of carefree laughter another façade?

  Pain, as deep and desolate as any pain she had experienced while watching her mother’s mind slowly fade, squeezed her heart. She wanted to believe that, when he was with her, Gabe could forget his past.

  The irony seared her soul, but it was true. She wanted her mother to remember and for Gabe to forget. And the chances of her achieving either were remote.

  All she had was now. All she might ever have was now. She wouldn’t waste it with regrets of what could never be.

  “I’m not sure.” She smiled back, hoped he couldn’t see how much of an effort it took for her to match his flippant mood. “I think further investigation might be called for.”

  He laughed again, this time without the underlying impression that it had escaped without him quite expecting it. This time his laugh sounded as if he was genuinely enjoying their exchange.

  “I can spare you an hour or so.” He began to get up, clearly intending to take matters into his own hands. She untangled her fingers from his hair and shoved roughly at his shoulders.

  “Sit still.”

  His eyes widened. But he didn’t attempt to ignore her. Instead, after his initial flash of surprise, his lips quirked in clear amusement.

  “Another order? Not even demi-gods are that brave around me.”

  “Good job I’m not a demi-god then, isn’t it?”

  He snorted and began to pull off her shirt. She slapped his hand, gripped his wrists and pinned him to the arms of the chair.

  “Don’t touch. Or do I have to hurt you?”

  Gabe choked on another laugh. “I’d like to see you try.”

  She trailed her hands up his arms. He didn’t move a muscle. Or bre
ak eye contact.

  “Be careful.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. It sounded scandalously sexy, sultry even. “What you wish for.” Heart pounding, making it hard to draw breath, she concentrated on unbuttoning his shirt. “Because you never know your luck. You might just get it.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  GABE stifled the primal urge to rip off their clothes, drag Aurora into his arms and slake the molten lust that surged through his blood. He was as desperate for her body as if he’d been celibate for years. As if this was their first time. As if he hadn’t already sampled what she had to offer; hadn’t already taken her more frequently than any other woman in centuries.

  Sex was an entertaining way to pass the time. Enjoyable, satisfying. And ultimately forgettable.

  He remembered every frenzied moment of every single time he’d been with Aurora. It seemed that far from diminishing his need, every time he had her only left him more ravenous for more.

  Instead of obeying his natural instincts to assert control, to take what she offered on his terms, he gripped the arms of the chair, his biceps straining with the effort.

  “What do you have in mind?” He watched the way she slid each button free with maddening deliberation, an enchanting frown of concentration etched on her brow. He wasn’t sure whether she was doing it deliberately or not, but either way it was stoking his lust like nothing he could recall.

  “Wait and see.” She glanced up at him then and the blush on her cheeks, giving her an intriguing aura of innocent seductress, stretched his frayed self-control to its limits. “Not used to the woman taking over, are you?”

  He heard the hint of triumph in her voice and it was obvious that thought gave her a great deal of satisfaction. That she wanted to be the first who had ever had him pliant beneath her searching fingers.

  A feral grin split his lips and she smirked, clearly pleased by his reaction. Even if it wasn’t the truth. Even if he’d lost count millennia ago of how many women had stripped him and worshipped him, while he lay there basking in their adoration.