Dark Angel Box Set

by Hanna Peach

  Her heart broke. “Hey,” she grabbed his face, “get inside my head. You can see my intentions behind wanting you to stay. You can sense my true feelings.”

  “Alyx, I don’t doubt you. I don’t need to get inside your head to see what’s in your heart. I know we belong together. I just… I know I have to find a way to let this go. I thought I had. But obviously I haven’t completely.”

  “Israel, it wasn’t the same…what I felt for him.”

  He winced as he turned his face from her. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “No,” Alyx said fiercely, grabbing his chin so that he was forced to look at her. “You need to hear this. When I had forgotten you…the feelings I was developing for him weren’t anything like what I feel for you. There were parts of him I could never really accept and that meant that we could never work. I never fit him like I fit you. The connection was real but…it was just a shooting star. It was never going to last. Jordan and I were never meant to last. You and I are. You’re my soulmate, Israel.”

  She placed her hand on his heart where she knew his scar was. Under her palm she felt his heartbeat. God, she loved that sound. She could listen to his heart beating all day. Like yesterday. Yesterday when they were tangled up in each other, she rested her head on his chest and silently thanked each of his heartbeats for keeping him alive for her.

  She noticed that Israel was watching her, a smile growing on his face. “What?”

  “You really thanked each heartbeat?”

  She realized that he must have gone inside her mind and had seen her thoughts. “Each and every one,” she admitted softly.

  She felt the final piece of his cracked heart mend.

  Sometimes, he said in her head, I watch you when you’re asleep. I play a game with myself. I look at you and try to see how long I can last without touching you.

  Really?

  Seriously. In fact, I’m playing it now.

  Her body heated as he stepped closer. How are you doing?

  Terribly. He caught her in his hands. See, I just lost.

  Well, we do have all night for you to practice…

  Actually, we have thirteen hours and forty-two minutes until you’re due to leave. He lowered his lips towards hers. And I don’t plan on wasting another second.

  * * *

  That night, as he had done so many nights before, Jordan slipped through the halls of the castle from his bedroom towards Cleo’s. His mind was a whir as he pondered his mission with Lukas, leaving tomorrow. He didn’t know how to help his lovesick friend.

  Jordan stopped by Cleo’s familiar door, distracted, only half glancing up and down the corridor to make sure that no one was watching. He turned the handle and pushed. The door wouldn’t budge. Jordan frowned. He shook the door handle slightly and pushed again. The door didn’t open. It was locked.

  Why would Cleo lock her door? She had never locked her door before. A fear rose in his stomach. Something was wrong.

  Jordan leaned his ear against the rough wooden panel. He couldn’t hear anything. No signs of struggle or that she was in pain. The anxiety in his stomach eased but only slightly. Was she even in there?

  He knocked low twice. “Cleo,” he called through the door.

  Her voice came back almost immediately. “Go away.”

  Go away? He knocked again. “Cleo, it’s me.” He paused. “Jordan,” he added after a thought.

  “I said, go away.”

  His hand slid down from the door and he stared at the plain wooden surface as if it may have answers written on it. There were no answers.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What part of ‘go away’ don’t you understand?”

  “Cleo? Open the door.”

  “Go away. As in don’t come back here, Jordan. Not at night. Not during the day. Not ever. You’re not wanted here anymore.”

  Of all the ungrateful nerve. “What’s your problem?”

  He heard movement, sharp and swift from behind the door. It sprang open in front of him and Cleo appeared, body blocking the door, lips twisted and dark eyes glaring at him like black daggers. “You just feel sorry for me, do you? I’m just a nuisance?”

  Jordan’s own words from the other day came back to him and he realized in a dreadful flash that Cleo must have heard his whole conversation with Alyx through the door. Guilt, bitter and heavy, sank low into his stomach.

  “I didn’t mean−”

  “I know what you meant. You didn’t want Alyx to get the wrong idea about us? Just in case she changes her mind about her true love, Israel, and decides she really wants you? Because you’re still hanging on to that hopeless hope that she might?” Cleo snarled. “What am I? Just a distraction until you get what you really want?”

  “What? No, I−”

  “Because I won’t have it, Jordan. Maybe other women in your life would have slunk back into their rooms to wait for you, repressing their anger and pretending that second best was fine, but not me. Go away and stay the hell away from me.”

  Cleo slammed the door so hard in his face that the doorframe shook and the noise echoed like a death toll through the cold stony halls. Jordan was left gaping at the door, his mouth moving slowly open and shut. What just happened?

  That night Jordan stayed in his bedroom, in his bed, alone for the first time since Cleo had arrived at the castle. The moonlight filtered in through his window, draping silver across his blanket like a shroud. Jordan folded his fingers under his head, trying to relax. When had his bed gotten so uncomfortable?

  He growled and threw himself onto his side, hoping that it would lead him to comfort, the sheets crushing under his jerky movements. All this succeeded in doing was facing him towards the empty side of his bed. The image of Cleo’s sleeping face on the pillow next to him came to mind easily, pulling the ghost of a smile from him.

  He had joked with Cleo once that she was most beautiful in her sleep. It was the only time she would shut up. Now in the deathly silence, he found he missed the sound of her voice, which always filled whatever room she was in.

  He wondered if she was having any trouble sleeping. Probably not. She was probably sleeping like a baby, rudely unaware of the grief she was causing him right now.

  What if she had a nightmare?

  She’ll be sorry when she has one and I’m not there. The instant he thought this he chastised himself. You’re the reason you’re not there, idiot.

  His cheeks burned when he remembered the things that he said to Alyx. Angel’s breath and Cleo had heard them all. He hadn’t meant those things he said. He wasn’t even sure why he said them. They were just words, thrown carelessly around like grains of corn.

  Perhaps they had been harmless when he had spoken them, but they became daggers when they reached Cleo’s ears. “I feel sorry for her…a nuisance, really.” He cringed. If only he could take them all back.

  If only you could take words spoken and cram them back into your mouth like spilled rice and leave no evidence or consequence of their previous chaos.

  His words he couldn’t take back, but perhaps he could soothe their effects.

  He hoped he could…

  Chapter 5

  “I’ll miss you.”

  Alyx laughed. It was soft and satin and angelic. “I just need you to leave me alone so I can get ready. You can come back in an hour.”

  The morning light had long drawn across the room from that small crack in the curtains.

  “Even an hour sounds too long.” Israel eyed her body, wrapped only in a sheet. “Maybe I should stay, help you…get ready?” He moved towards her, his hands grabbing for the cloth. She twirled out of his reach and he growled. He would cut that damned sheet from her body, just wait and see.

  “It’s just an hour.”

  “And after that hour you’ll be gone for…days, maybe. I don’t know what I’ll do with myself.”

  “You said you’d go and look in on Sparrow for me.”

  “I did. I didn’t specify when.
”

  “You could go do that now.”

  “It’s too early. He’s probably asleep.”

  “Are you shirking your duties?”

  “No, just…delaying them for more important things. Like making sure your naked body stays warm.”

  “Israel, he only just arrived here and I haven’t had a chance to look in on him. I’ve been distracted by you−”

  “You love my distractions.”

  “−so he’s been by himself all day and night.”

  “So he’ll survive a few more hours.”

  “Israel!”

  “Yes, angel?”

  “Officium pro amor.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a motto I read on one of the crests that lines the Great Hall here. It means ‘duty before passion’.”

  Israel made a face. “That’s a terrible motto. Horrible. Don’t they know the world revolves around love? Why would I care about anything when everything I care about is here? You are more important to me than anything. Period. Here, I have a better motto for you. ‘Let the world burn. See if I care.’ Now hand over that beautiful body of yours.” He lunged at her again and this time he caught her. She laughed as his hands found their way into the crumpled sheets and against her warm skin. He placed kisses along her bare shoulder.

  “Israel.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Israel, that’s not a motto.”

  “Yes it is.”

  “It’s not even Latin.”

  He made a whatever noise but didn’t respond, his lips were too busy seeking out her skin under that damned sheet. Her soft, wonderful-smelling skin.

  “Israel, we can’t stay in bed all day. Again.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Israel, I have to get ready to go,” she pleaded.

  “Alright, alright.” He sighed.

  “Come back in an hour.”

  “One hour and not a second more.”

  He took one last lingering kiss from Alyx and shot one last longing look at the bed that they had thoroughly messed up…several times…

  “Thank you,” she called to him over her shoulder as she began to dig through her drawers, the sheet dipping ever so distractingly down the curve of her back. Goddamn.

  “Duty before passion. Jeez, what a buzzkill,” he muttered as he forced himself out her bedroom door.

  Duty before passion. Whoever invented that motto needed a slap in the face.

  * * *

  Jordan found himself taking the long route through the castle the next morning before he and Lukas were scheduled to leave. He was bleary-eyed from little sleep but a cold shower had roused some life into him. He was dressed simply in brown pants, a white shirt and a dark leather jacket that hid the daggers at his side. At his hip was a longer blade.

  This particular route this morning took him past Cleo’s bedroom, the scene of the crime. As he neared the closed door the shame rose up in him again. His words, stark as evidence, rang in his ears. “I feel sorry for her…a nuisance, really.”

  Jordan shook his head as if he could dislodge these thoughts and shake off this layer of guilt. It didn’t work.

  He stopped silently at her door and raised his fist to knock, but…

  But…

  But what?

  In his head, his fist knocked. In his head, his brain commanded his arm to move. But in reality his fist didn’t move. Fear had him frozen as if it had lassoed a rope around his wrist and was holding him back.

  He was afraid? Yes, he recognized this feeling. He was afraid. Afraid of…this conversation. What was going on with him? Why was he so damn afraid of this conversation?

  Because…

  Because what?

  There was no answer that he could see. Just a sense that there was something more going on, like the currents running under the surface of a calm sea. He felt that he should understand it, but he wasn’t even able to shape this “it” into a form that he understood. He couldn’t even rely on himself today, it seemed.

  Jordan stared at Cleo’s door, her silent door that seemed to taunt him. It’s just a door, dammit, Jordan, just knock.

  And say what?

  It would have to be an apology. He didn’t like to have to apologize to anyone, but still…in his past he had expended a thousand cooing, soothing words to various females, all miffed and ruffled feathers. He was a savant in soothing non-apology apologies.

  So just knock already and get it over with!

  I can’t.

  Because?

  Because…

  All of a sudden all those smooth and practiced apologies, those calming, cooing words, they all seemed so…fake. Without those words that had served him so well in the past, those easy, proven words, suddenly he was left feeling like he had…nothing. Cleo deserved more than those words from him. She deserved something real.

  What would he say to Cleo? What could he say that would be enough?

  His command of the English language suddenly failed him, his brain stuttering and spluttering out useless phrases like a dying car. None of them any good.

  Jordan drew back from the door feeling utterly lost.

  * * *

  Cleo sighed as she stared out her bedroom window. From this angle she could see the grassy area at the front of the castle. There, standing on the grass in a casual huddle were Tobias, Alyx, Israel and Lukas. Oh, and him. That damned infuriating, clueless and heart-twisting man. It seemed even immortal beings of the male persuasion were just as infuriating as the mortal ones. The mortal ones you could at least hope that they would die old and ugly.

  “Stop torturing yourself,” said Xiang.

  Cleo turned her head to the lithe Asian woman who was sitting with her legs tucked under her on Cleo’s bedspread. Xiang was Vix’s life partner and the only other mortal in this community. Xiang had sought Cleo out after she had first arrived at the castle, apparently taking it upon herself to be a one-woman welcome wagon for Cleo.

  At first Cleo had resisted, suspicious of Xiang’s intentions. After all, Cleo had never been friends with other girls, even other girls in Purgatory. Especially the other girls in Purgatory. Worthy adversaries, yes. Competitive frenemies, yes. Actual friends? Hell, no (pun intended).

  But the sweet little Xiang soon won out over Cleo. “Won out” meaning that Cleo soon realized that this little Asian lady, despite looking as timid as a Chihuahua, had the gnawing persistence of a pit bull with a bone and was not going to let up until Cleo liked her, dammit.

  So, like her Cleo did. Besides, it was nice to have someone to talk to. Alyx, the only other person she knew here, had been more than preoccupied with Israel, Israel and more Israel. Oh, okay, and the pesky Armageddon that was looming.

  Cleo had been able to talk to Jordan, hereby renamed as “that ass”. Surprisingly easily. Annoyingly easily. But she couldn’t talk to him about them, it seemed. If there even was a them.

  “Come away from the window, Cleo.”

  “But I enjoy torture,” Cleo said. “Obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t have all these stupid feelings for that ass.” Cleo turned to stare out of the window again. Alyx and Israel were trapped in an embrace so intimate that she felt like she was voyeuristically intruding, like she had just walked into their bedroom. “That ass” was standing angled away from the two lovers, his arms crossed over his chest. It might have seemed like a casual stance for Jordan, but she knew better. She could see his hands were tight fists. Jordan may have learned to keep his face totally removed from any emotion he was feeling, but not his hands.

  Alyx and Israel’s long goodbye bothered him. And this bothered her.

  Cleo made an exasperated sound and tore her eyes away from the window. She flung herself onto the bed next to Xiang and made a strangling noise. “Kill me, please.”

  “He’ll figure it out.” Xiang paused. “Eventually. He is a man.”

  Cleo snorted. “You think he could do that while I’m still young and beautiful?” Now that I’m no long
er in Purgatory, I age. That creeping fear, her mother’s voice began to fill her mind, but she shut that out. One friggin’ drama at a time, please.

  “Jordan just needs some time.”

  “He called me a nuisance.”

  “He didn’t mean it.”

  “He didn’t even tell me he was sorry.”

  “He will. Men take some time to work up to sorry. Sorry is a big deal for them. Like…sports cars. And root canals. He cares about you. He does. I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching.”

  “But he still cares about her that way too.” Cleo hated calling Alyx her. Especially after she felt she owed Alyx so much. Alyx showed her that her life could be more. Alyx offered her friendship even after Cleo drugged her without telling her. Alyx offered her a place here with their community. Despite how hard it had been leaving Purgatory and coming off DreamDust, it had been worth it. Here, Cleo was finally starting to feel something like home and something like family.

  “Maybe he does still have feelings for Alyx, maybe he doesn’t,” Xiang said. “But I’ve known Jordan a long time.” She let out a long dramatic sigh. “That boy is the king of avoidance strategies.”

  Cleo blinked, a little confused. “He’s trying to avoid Alyx?”

  “No, silly girl. He’s trying to avoid all his new feelings for you.”

  Cleo shook her head, not wanting to believe it, not wanting to feed this seed of hope in her chest lest it grow into a real thing, only to be trampled on and destroyed when he figured out that he didn’t want her. Even if his body did, as evidenced the other night when he reached for her in his sleep and called her name. Her name. Not Alyx’s. Hers.

  It was too risky to hope too much. Or to hope at all. “That’s such a ridiculous explanation for his stupid, confusing, stupid−”

  “You already said ‘stupid’.”

  “−ass-sensical behavior.”