Yes, he did know. She wanted blood, his blood. It was a dangerous game to play. If too much blood were taken, he wouldn’t be able to regenerate. The Dark Angels were passionate in everything they did, from making love to fighting and the taking of blood was no different. Dark Angels craved Watchers’ blood. It was purer, a higher strain of angel blood that took them over the brink, leaving reason behind. The Watcher also experienced ecstasy from the taking and the bliss would blind them. They wouldn’t care the Dark Angel took every last drop from their body. This is why it was discouraged.
Discouraged, he reminded himself, but not forbidden. “I trust you will not drain me.” He brushed a strand of her dark hair over her shoulder.
“Never. I enjoy your company too much.”
They were lovers, but their relationship was one of convenience and yet he would trust her word. “So be it.” He tilted his head, offering his neck.
Her fangs lengthened. With a low growl she struck, sinking her fangs into his flesh.
He closed his eyes, letting her take her fill, enjoying the euphoria it brought.
Chapter Eleven
Deep in thought, Gideon walked toward the comic shop located in the strip mall in Costa Mesa. The mall also held a pet shop, Starbucks, and a café. It was one of his favorite hangouts in the human realm. It was a place where he stationed himself to watch and observe the humans around him, but today, his thoughts turned to what went down with Lucca.
He’d grown up with the stories of the first Watchers and how they survived. Even though he was a century old, he was a child in comparison to the first Watchers like Lucca and Zaiden. Even Eli had been around before the fourteenth century. In the otherworldly realm where the Fallen dwelled, time didn’t pass as it did on the human plane of existence. If he were to compare how humans recorded time, centuries seemed more like decades to him.
He’d been friends with Lucca most of his life. The Watcher knew how to wield a sword. He possessed a warrior’s strong body, but he also had the mind of a scholar. He knew the fine arts, could quote the poets and philosophers. When he was in the mood for company, he could talk until his voice grew hoarse. Gideon never grew tired of the stories.
The day proved cool, but the sun shone overhead and his leather jacket absorbed the heat, making him wish he’d left it at home. He rubbed his chin, feeling the coarse fibers beneath his fingertips. He was hairless on his torso, but his facial hair grew in thick if he let it go. Like the hair on his head, his beard was deep auburn mixed with brown and gold strands. Even with a full fledge beard, he kept his youthful look about him. He wasn’t as large as the other warriors, taking more after his human side in that regard with his wiry frame. He only stood six-foot-two-and-a-half, a good three to four inches shorter than the older warriors, but still fairly tall for a human.
Last night’s conversation with Lucca bothered him. Usually he agreed with Lucca’s beliefs and convictions, but Lucca wanted to hire the Hashasheen demons to take out Eli and he couldn’t condone the action.
He hadn’t completely decided if he agreed with Eli, but he knew the Watcher didn’t deserve a dishonorable death by poison.
“Soul mate,” he said under his breath, twirling the word around, wondering what it would be like to fall in love.
He arrived at the comic store and stood just outside the door. Through the clear glass, he could make out the pretty female with ink black hair, standing behind the counter. Her hair was probably dyed, but he liked the way the color made her skin look like porcelain. She wore a black tank top with a skull and rose on the front. She sported a tattoo on her right shoulder, a Tibetan proverb: Your happiness lies within you. It was written in a cursive spiral, the calligraphy a feminine blend of curves.
She looked up as if she felt someone watching her. Her gaze landed on him and her full lips slid into a smile that lit up her sky blue eyes.
Like a primitive response that told him to step closer to her, his hand reached for the handle and pushed the door in to enter the shop. There were bins in the center of the room with rows of comic books all marked according to the creators like DC Comic, Marvel, Vertigo and Dark Horse, and further cataloged for years. Bronze Age consisted of comics created 1970-1985. Silver had the 1956-1969 comics and Golden held the real oldies from 1938-1955. The cataloging made it easy to find a favorite comic.
Against the wall, a locked cabinet held some of the rare copies that vigilant collectors looked to purchase.
The place smelled of paper, ink, and the spicy scent of Trinity McTavish. Soul mate, whispered through his mind, but he pushed the thought aside and nodded toward her. “Hey, how’s it going?”
“It’s going,” she answered him, her voice deep with a slight raspy quality to it.
He didn’t know if there was a soul mate for him, but being with Trinity made his heart do weird flip-flops in his chest. He liked the feeling. He liked being with her.
He backed up, making a decision. “You know, I’ll be back later. I need to take care of something.”
Disappointment registered in her eyes and that only heightened his regard for her. She enjoyed his company as much as he did hers.
“I guess I’ll see you later, Gideon.”
His lips curved into a smile as he walked backward toward the door. “Yeah, you will.”
Chapter Twelve
Ryden couldn’t sleep after the erotic dream she had about Eli. If the reality of being with him could be anything close to the dream, she’d be in heaven. Her skin still felt flushed from his touch. She threw off her covers and took a quick shower—cold, which did very little to ease her frustration.
Dressed for the day, she headed for the kitchen to feed McGregor, who decided since she was up that he needed his breakfast. “I’m seriously losing it.” Ryden glanced down at her feet where McGregor stared at her with is large blue eyes. Tan with gray markings on his body and paws, with stripes of gray on his face, he was a beautiful cat. He was one of two kittens left in a box behind a store. How someone could just dump the poor little things was beyond cruel in her book. She took them both home. Her cousin, Lana, took one and she kept McGregor, falling in love with him the moment he jumped into her lap and looked up at her as if to say, I want to stay with you. That was two years ago and they’d been roommates ever since.
The smell of lamb and rice in gravy hit the air and McGregor purred and rubbed his body against her leg. She emptied the contents into the bowl and placed it on the floor for McGregor’s pleasure.
She went over to the sink to rinse out the can. The steady flow of the water distracted her and her thoughts drifted back to the dream. “It seemed more like a memory.” Which she knew it couldn’t be and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of deja vu.
Her lips curved, recalling how Eli’s large hands moved over her body, caressing her. In her dream, his body hummed with energy as he moved over her and his kiss… Her eyelids fluttered closed, recalling how his lips pressed against her mouth, his tongue slipping between her teeth to mate with hers. The scent of him was intoxicating, like something dark and delicious.
As if the dream wasn’t erotic enough, she felt his front incisors lengthen, but she didn’t fear him, didn’t think he was a vampire. No, she accepted him as if elongated incisors were perfectly normal.
God, she wanted him to sink his fangs into her flesh and then he did, just a nip on the skin just over her heart. His tongue slid over the bite, adding to the sensation.
She never felt so close, as if he touched something deep inside of her that no one ever had reached. This wasn’t even the best part. He opened his wings and in her dream she didn’t flinch or think it odd. Her hand brushed over the feathery softness, and his intake of breath encouraged her to do it again.
“Don’t stop,” he told her. It was like his wings were the core of his being, his lifeline to who he was. He wrapped them around her, blanketing her with his love.
She blinked, her body responding to the memory, flooding her senses w
ith want. She realized the water was still running and her hand reached for the faucet to turn it off.
“Dear Lord,” she muttered, thinking she needed her head examined. Angels with fangs didn’t even make sense, but in her dream Eli told her, “I’m one of the Fallen—half-angel, half-human.” Funny, how that didn’t bother her. It was like she knew such beings existed.
She really had an overactive imagination. With the crazy night she had with red-eyed demons and Eli being stabbed, it was no wonder her dreams were so whacked. Seeing Eli’s intricate wing tattoos probably helped to spark the Fallen Angel scenario. Eli was a beautiful man, but with a dangerous edge to him. His body exemplified power, endurance, and strength. Of course, he couldn’t be a baby-faced sweetie in her dream. Her lips curved. No, Eli was a warrior, strong and ready to defend. He had to be a badass angel.
Satisfied that she explained away her dream, she glanced at her clock and realized it was only eight-thirty. She was anxious about spending the whole day with Eli, especially after the detailed dream she had of caressing every inch of him. Good Lord, she hoped she didn’t blush every time she looked at him.
Her gaze landed on McGregor who had finished his meal and was now perched on the bar stool.
“He’s coming over this morning,” she said to the cat. “You know, Eli.” The half-angel. Her lips curved into a grin. She didn’t know if she would ever get the erotic image out of her mind.
McGregor gave her a soft meow followed by a purr.
“I know you like him, too.” Her gaze landed on the pumpkin next to the toaster and made a face of dread. At the spur of the moment, she bought it with big plans of carving it before Halloween. “I guess it’s now or never.” Grabbing a few paper towels from her decorative holder, she placed the pumpkin on top of them before opening her utensil drawer, looking for the carving knife.
She glanced at McGregor who was following her every move. “I’m a little nervous, McGregor. I actually have to carry on a conversation with Eli that has nothing to do with if he wants a warm up on his coffee.” She found the knife she was looking for and shut the drawer. She stared at the pumpkin, wondering if she should even attempt to carve it. She wasn’t very good at it. Her pumpkins usually looked like a hideous masterpiece of a demented mental patient. “I’m truly sorry,” she said to the pumpkin before cutting into it.
Apparently, her dismantling and gutting of the pumpkin was great entertainment for McGregor. He settled down to watch.
Buzzzzz, buzzzzz.
Her eyes widened in horror and she stared at the slop in her hand then toward her front door. “He’s here,” she whispered.
McGregor gave her a look like, duh, and meowed at her before deciding his paws needed a good licking and began the process of preening himself.
She hurriedly tossed what was in her hand into the garbage bin beside her cabinet and grabbed a few paper towels. Two wraps on the door now and she feared he’d leave if she didn’t answer the door soon. “I’m coming,” she called and ran around the counter.
Noticing she still had the paper towel in her hand, she stuffed it in her pocket. She took a deep breath and threw open the door.
Her lips curved into a smile upon seeing Eli standing there. Her gaze traveled the length of him. He was wearing blue jeans and a long sleeve Henley that fit his athletic body like a second skin. His face was smooth from a recent shave and his hair was damp, the light from outside reflecting off dark strands and giving them a sleek appearance like polished ebony. Then her gaze landed on what he held in his hand. “You came bearing gifts.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Coffee. I could just kiss you,” Ryden told him and moved aside to let him in.
He chuckled and handed her a cup. “Non-fat latte with six shots of hazelnut.” He shut the door behind him.
“Forget the kiss, I’ll marry you,” she teased and took a sip, closing her eyes as the sweet warmth slid down her throat. “Perfect.” She looked at him, her brows furrowing. “How’d you know I liked my coffee this way?”
“I have my ways.” Eli lifted his brows up and down. Of course he couldn’t tell her he knew because they were a couple in the future, or the future he hoped they’d have again. He settled on a half-truth. “I asked the girl at the coffee place. I’ve seen you carry a cup in at the restaurant and took a chance you were a regular.”
“That was very sweet of you.”
His gaze traveled over her. She wore jeans and an orange T-shirt with I’m a Good Witch written on it. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she had… He frowned at the substance decorating her hair like orange tinsel. His hand reached out and removed a clump. “Have you been slaughtering a pumpkin patch lately?”
“Omigod, is it in my hair?” Her hand flew to the side of her head.
“Just a little. Let me help you.” She leaned close and his nostrils filled with the scent of her—cinnamon and spices that were all her. He swallowed back the urge to kiss her and forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand.
“I was trying to carve a pumpkin,” she told him.
His gaze met hers. “You didn’t have to kill it, did you?” He put his coffee cup down on the table.
She chuckled. “I have to say, I’m not really good at it.”
Eli smiled but didn’t say anymore as he picked out the few pumpkin decorations from her hair.
McGregor sauntered over and rubbed against Eli’s leg, purring like a motor.
“There, all gone,” He opened his hand to show her the results.
She fished out the paper towel stuffed in her pocket and held out her hand. “I’ll take the mess.” She headed to the kitchen and Eli crouched down to rub McGregor behind the ears before following her into the kitchen to wash his hands. She spoke over the running water. “It’s funny, my cat never likes anyone, but he’s warmed right up to you.”
“I have a way with animals.”
He turned off the faucet and she handed him a clean paper towel. She stared at him and her lips curved. “I bet you do.” She leaned against the kitchen counter and sipped her coffee, eyeing him over the rim like he was a tasty morsel.
His breath caught on a surge of yearning, wishing he could pull her into his arms and show her how much he loved her. She may sport a come hither look, but he knew taking her up on it would only scare her off. He remembered what they once shared, but she didn’t. He turned his attention to the slaughtered shell of what once was a pumpkin. “Do you want me to give it a go?” He glanced at her. “I’m pretty handy with a knife.” Wrong word to use, she stiffened and a wary look entered her eyes as she remembered last night.
“Do you always carry a dagger?” she blurted out.
Not always, I have other weapons I like just as well. “No.”
“But you had one last night.”
He nodded. He wondered where she was going with this and how much he should reveal without scaring her.
Her gaze landed on his midsection. “How’s the wound this morning?” She put the coffee cup down and came toward him. “Let me take a look at—”
His hands whipped out, taking hold of hers before she could lift his shirt and see his skin was unmarred. Trying to explain a miraculous recovery would be impossible. “I’m fine. Really. You did a good job last night. Doesn’t even hurt this morning.”
She met his gaze, searching the depths of his eyes as if she hoped to find the truth there. “Hmm…you do look better.” She let her hands drop from his grip, backing up and giving him space. “I need to ask you a few questions and I want you to answer me honestly.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Are you really a writer?”
“Yes.” He was published and she would find him on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. He had to have some sort of employment in the human world. There wasn’t a big call for Warriors in this day and age. “I write mysteries.”
“Okay.” She nodded and moistened her lips. “Are you part of a gang, mob, or maybe a criminal
on the side?” She took a deep breath. “Just tell me I don’t have to be afraid of you.”
He could answer honestly. “I’m not a criminal or part of a gang and there are no mob ties. You don’t have to fear me.” He covered the space separating them and rested his hands on her shoulders. “I would never harm you.” His forehead met hers. “Never.”
She drew in a ragged breath and let it out again as if a giant weight had been released. She put her arms around his neck. She wasn’t a small woman, but she felt petite in his arms.
She leaned forward and he felt the moist heat of her mouth against his before she deepened the pressure. He pulled her closer, enjoying the long slow kisses that clouded his mind. She tasted of toothpaste and coffee and passion. He could kiss her forever, but it was imperative they come up for air.
“That was nice,” he said, his voice raw with emotion.
He felt the tug of her lips as they slid into a grin. “Yeah, it was.” Her voice had the same rough quality. They could take the passion farther and she might let him, but he didn’t want to rush her. He only had one chance to get this right.
His hand slid down her back in a slow easy caress and she sighed, leaning her full weight against him. This close, she surely realized how much he wanted her. He waited for her to pull away, but she didn’t. She looked up at him with her soft, brown-sugar colored eyes, trusting him to do right by her.
He met her lips again and kissed her, pouring his soul into it, hoping his unspoken promises would reach the woman who loved him.
Chapter Fourteen
Eli drove them to the Enchanted Costume Shop that rented out a space in the strip mall every year. They carried a large supply of costumes from glitzy to horror. Cobwebs, spiders, and rubber pumpkins decorated the place. A mechanical Grim Reaper greeted them at the door with eerie red eyes that followed them as they passed.
Eli- Warriors for the Light Page 7