by Kyoko M
The bullets from Myra’s M24 punched a trio of golf ball-sized holes into the bear’s skull. It crashed headfirst at my feet, sliding several inches with deadweight. I stared at it, quaking from head to toe, and then lifted my face enough to call back into the woods.
“…thank you, Myra.”
Michael and Ace appeared seconds later, both panting so hard that they were in sync. Michael’s eyes roved over the bear carcass and then darted over to me.
“You okay?”
I waved the comment away. “Pssh. No big deal. Baloo here just wanted to say hi. Talk about the bare necessities of—”
The hellbear clamped its jaws onto my right ankle and rolled to the side, dragging me with it off the cliff.
I screamed as I plummeted towards the ground below. The cold air stole the remaining breath from my lungs as the ground rushed up to meet me. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for impact, when I heard a familiar whoosh overhead.
The bear’s massive mouth detached from my ankle and then a pair of strong arms looped around my waist and my legs, halting my fall.
“Jordan.”
A soft voice. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
“Jordan, look at me.”
Slowly, I opened my eyes to see Michael’s face only inches away. At some point, I’d wrapped my arms around his neck and he held me after we landed on the ground. I felt the fresh blood dripping from my torn up ankle, throbbing sharply with pain. The bear lay a couple feet away, its body broken and evaporating into ash.
Michael’s beautiful silver wings arched over our heads, protecting us from bits of rock, snow, and dirt that fell after my unceremonious tumble from the cliff. A shaft of sunlight illuminated his calm but concerned features. For the first time, I saw him in all his light and glory. He was incredible.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”
I buried my face in his neck, ashamed of how I quivered with fear in his arms, ashamed of how unworthy I was to be with an angel of the Lord. “Thank you.”
He didn’t put me down. He carried me back to the trail. I didn’t say another word. For once, I didn’t need to.
CHAPTER TWELVE
MICHAEL
The hellbear had left us a present when we returned to the RV: the demon that wrestled the animal from hibernation had set it loose on our transportation. It had smashed in the door and gone postal on the inside. It ripped out everything bolted down, shredded the bed, devoured every scrap of food in the fridge, and demolished the entire front half of the vehicle from the steering wheel to the engine block. Not even the tires survived the onslaught.
We hiked down to the nearest town. It took an irritatingly long time, and not just because it was on foot. A snowstorm brewed en route, and by the time we reached the town, it was up to five inches. We rented three rooms—one for Myra and Jordan, one for Avriel and Faust, and one for me. Myra healed up Jordan’s ankle as best as she could and wrapped it, but she would need more than one healing session to get it back to full strength. She left to go get supplies and find us a new form of transportation. The demons had been smart. They knew the success rate of sending hitmen wasn’t working and the wild animal angle kept us off balance. If we didn’t get a car soon, we wouldn’t be able to get the next coin before the demons did.
Not long after she left, Myra called from the other side of town and told us the rental car place was closed. I suggested boosting a car, but by the time I got outside, there was no point. At least four feet of snow blanketed the roads. The snow trucks usually had to wait for it to let up before they’d mow through to unblock the streets. We were marooned.
I told Myra not to risk going out by herself, so she rented a hotel room and stayed put to wait out the storm. I couldn’t sit still for long, not with the knowledge that right now, the demons were securing the Judas coins because I was stuck in Pennsylvania.
I knocked on the door to Jordan’s room. About half a minute later, she appeared, looking slightly better than when I’d left her. Her skin was still a couple shades lighter from blood loss and the beginnings of dark circles were under her eyes. She looked like she needed a week and a half’s worth of sleep.
“Yeah?”
“Came to check on you,” I said, glancing down at her bandaged ankle. She favored it a bit, balancing with one hand on the doorjamb.
“Ankle’s fine,” she said in a hushed tone, not meeting my eyes. “How are the guys?”
“Disappointed. Anxious. Cold.”
“They’re not the only ones.” She finally stepped aside to let me in. I shut the door and watched her limp back over to the bed. My mouth was dry for several reasons, none of which I particularly felt like addressing, but probably needed to.
“What was up with that thing?” she asked, frowning. “I thought demons could only influence dogs.”
“It’s rare that they try it on anything other than a dog,” I said. “Dogs are the most susceptible to influence. They’re subservient. Bears are far more independent and calculating. It must have taken more than one demon to corrupt it into that monster, but it was worth it. Godless killing machine indeed.”
She almost smiled then. “How’s Ace doing?”
“A couple bruises, but he’s fine. Left with Myra.”
A small smile finally touched her lips. “He let you pet him?”
I grinned. “No. But he did stop threatening to bite my fingers off.”
Silence fell for a moment. I cleared my throat, softening my tone. “You sure you’re alright? That was a nasty fall and—”
“—I’m fine.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “You really expect me to believe that?”
“Believe whatever you want.”
Frustration bubbled up my chest, tearing out of my throat before I could stop it. “Why do you always do this?”
She glared. “Do what?”
“Deny your own feelings.”
“What? Do you expect me to fall into your arms and weep? Grow up.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” I snarled. “I can hear your heartbeat. You’re scared and hurt, but you keep pretending like you aren’t out of some misplaced sense of bravado. It’s going to get you killed one day, and you won’t come back this time.”
“So what if it does?”
I stilled. Her defiant gaze tunneled into mine. “What did you just say?”
She crossed her arms beneath her chest. “I know how this game is going to end—bloody. As long as I can save a few people and smoke some demons, it doesn’t matter. Besides, why are you all bent out of shape? You were gone for a year. You didn’t call. You didn’t come looking for me. Why do you care all of a sudden?”
My hands balled into fists. “You think I didn’t care?”
“Yes, because caring is a normal human emotion. I’m not sure it’s something you’d ever understand.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Why are you acting like this?”
“Acting like what?”
“Like you’re bipolar. One minute, you’re sweet to me, and the next you pick a fight. I don’t know who I’m talking to. I don’t know if you have anything aside from an attitude problem and a beard.”
“Why does it even matter?”
She stood then. “Because I can’t work with you when you’re like this. You need to be in control or we’re basically screwed.”
“You think I’m not in control?”
“Did I stutter?”
A derisive laugh snuck from between my lips. “What would you know, Jordan? Prior to this week, we haven’t been in the same room for months. You have no idea how I’m feeling.”
“That’s assuming that you even can anymore with the Commander riding you like a thoroughbred.”
Anger swelled inside my chest and I couldn’t tell which part of me was riled up. “Do you really want to know or would you rather keep arguing?”
“Enlighten me.”
“Fine.�
�
I grabbed her by the shoulders, shoved her against the wall, and kissed her.
She gasped into my mouth as the harsh movement stole her breath. I couldn’t think straight. The instant my lips touched hers, it all came rushing back like a shot of heroin to the veins of an ex-junkie. I had shut out my earthly desires for months, locked them away in a chest guarded by electrified barbed wire, because I had a job to do. But now, with her in my arms, I felt every ounce of selfishness, of lust, of envy, of wrath, of greed, pumping through my body and screaming to have their thirsts satisfied. It was no longer the Commander versus the Husband. Here, in this very moment, both men wanted the same damn thing. Both men hungered for what they had been missing, what they had been fighting not to want, but needed all the same. Her.
Everything afterwards was a blur. Cloth ripping. Muttered curses that I couldn’t distinguish. Glass breaking when we knocked the lamp off the nightstand. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except this woman with her legs around my hips and one hand fisted in my hair. We didn’t say anything to each other. There were no confessions of undying love or admittance that we’d missed one another. There were no tender kisses. It was hard and fast and brutal and ugly and wondrous.
I didn’t recall falling asleep. I woke up slowly, my body blistering hot and numb all over. My right arm was thrown over her waist, the other trapped beneath my pillow. Jordan didn’t move when I uncurled myself from around her, and for good reason. I seemed to recall that she passed out somewhere around Round Number Four. I hadn’t been gentle. Then again, neither had she.
I sat up and draped my legs over the side of the bed. My foot hit something wooden. I glanced downward. It took me a second to realize it was a slat from beneath the mattress. We’d knocked the bed frame out of alignment. Oops.
The clock on the nightstand had made it through the assault. It was six in the morning. We’d had sex for over an hour and then fallen asleep. The dried blood from the scratches on my back proved the theory true.
I ran my hands through my hair, trying to wrap my head around the situation, but it wasn’t working. Ten months. Hard to believe it had been that long since we shared a bed.
I risked a glance over my shoulder. She still slept on her side, her legs bent almost in the fetal position. Her curly hair showered her shoulders, hiding part of her face. I couldn’t tell if she had grown lovelier or if I’d started to forget what she looked like up close over the last year. From here, her lashes appeared longer and thicker and her skin seemed inhumanly soft. It was probably just my spotty memory.
I sighed, a quiet sound, and faced forward. Now what? Was there a manual somewhere about what to do after having rough, hot hate sex with your wife? What would I tell her when she woke up? That I’d missed her? That I’d been a coward for leaving? That I’d resented her and used that as an excuse not to come back? How could I even start that conversation?
My thoughts were so consuming that I actually jumped when she spoke in a low, hoarse voice. “Still alive, I see.”
I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Yeah.”
The bed shifted, the cotton sheets rustled, and then she appeared beside me. She’d wrapped the white blanket around her like a toga and even though it should have looked ridiculous, she was still gorgeous. Damn it.
I shivered as she touched my right shoulder blade. “Sorry about your back. Looks like someone dropped a feral cat on you.”
I snorted, hiding a laugh. “It’s fine.”
She brushed her hair behind her ear. There was a quarter-sized hickey on her neck. I lowered my voice a bit, letting concern peek through. “Did I hurt you?”
Jordan met my eyes and surprised me with a demure little smile. “Yes.”
She leaned in, dropping a small kiss to my lips. “But I liked it.”
I closed my eyes, suppressing a wave of lust at her admission. “I’ve missed you.”
She chuckled, no doubt amused by my sudden honesty. “Back atcha, stud.”
I cradled her chin in my hand and lost myself in another kiss. It took all of my willpower to pull away again.
She rested her forehead against mine, her voice soft. “You know this doesn’t mean I forgive you, right?”
I smiled. “Ditto. But at least we can start in that direction now that we broke the tension.”
“The tension,” she mused, nudging the wooden slat on the floor. “And the bed. Definitely not going to get that deposit back.”
“It’s the least of our worries. We should get moving.”
“Yeah. Dibs on the shower.”
She stood, covers and all, and walked towards the bathroom, pausing the doorway. I cocked my head to the side in question.
She bit her bottom lip. “You, uh, kind of tore my jeans in half. Mind getting another pair out of my suitcase?”
For the first time in a year, my cheeks flushed. I blushed. The Commander of Heaven’s Army just blushed like a damned teenager. Only Jordan could do that to me.
I cleared my throat, hoping she couldn’t see it in this dim lighting. “Sure.”
She disappeared into the bathroom while I began rifling through her things for a new set of clothes. Jordan’s shower started up immediately, since she didn’t have any clothing to remove. If I had any sense at all, I’d leave the clothes on the counter and figure out what to do while I waited. But I was a glutton for punishment.
Mist had already clouded the bathroom when I stepped inside. She liked her showers hot enough to boil human skin for some reason. I often thought it had something to do with how many of the things in her life made her feel dirty, so she needed to feel clean as much as she could on the outside. Not surprising. My hands were just as filthy, if not filthier.
She didn’t seem surprised when I stepped into the shower behind her, wrapping my arms around her stomach and drawing her into me. I kissed the side of her neck and breathed slowly under the stifling heat of the water. It had been so long since I’d felt it. Not her body, but her effect on me. She was like a touchstone. The instant my skin met hers, I felt calm. I felt like I could do anything, handle anything, be anything, because she trusted me. Because she believed in me. Everyone had always expected the best from me, but Jordan never did. She took me the way I was—bruised, bloodied, broken, and emotionally constipated.
I didn’t like to admit it to myself, but sex had always been an important part of our relationship. Jordan was guarded. She kept everyone at a distance, even the people she loved, because she was afraid of being abused, mistreated, forgotten. But not when we made love. In bed, she was no longer a self-conscious girl or a hardened warrior. She was a woman. She was delicate and dazzling and passionate. She used to tease me about being insatiable, but I couldn’t help myself. She was addictive. Part of why I ran from her was because I needed her so badly. I felt like I couldn’t be who I wanted to be without her and it scared the living hell out of me. How I had lived a million lifetimes before her and now I couldn’t even imagine three hundred and sixty five days without her.
I couldn’t keep my hands to myself in the shower and we ended up entangled in the steamy throes of sex once again. However, when it was over, I did something I hadn’t done in a long time.
I washed her, from head to toe, slowly. It was too much to try and apologize now. We needed time. Hell, we needed counseling. So I just shut my mouth and communicated with my hands, rubbing soap on every inch of her skin, especially the network of scars on her back. Without words, I told her I would protect her and make sure that she wouldn’t obtain any new scars as long as I was alive. We were a long ways off from trusting each other, but at least we had taken the first step toward getting it back.
“Why’d you grow it out?” I asked, my voice quiet. We stood in front of each other by the sink, toweling off one another’s hair.
“Same reason you grew the beard,” she answered, settling the towel around my shoulders when my hair was mostly dry. “Needed a change, even if it was just a small one.”
“Mm.” I leaned in, kissing her softly, running my thumb along her cheek.
“Do you want to talk yet?”
She shook her head, sighing against my lips. “Not now. I want this—whatever it is—to last as long as it can.”
I nodded, stealing one more kiss before pulling away. She was right. It was the calm before the storm. After we started that conversation, there might not be any more kisses so I took my fill of them while I could.
“What did your band mates say when you quit?”
I snorted again, shimmying into my boxers. “Casey threw a Vodka bottle at my head. The guys almost started a bar fight.”
“How are they doing without you?”
“Not bad, actually. Heard they finally got an agent. Might get a record deal by the end of the year.”
She watched me pull on my jeans. “Do you miss it?”
The snow had stopped at some point, but it was still freezing out. I didn’t care for turtlenecks. Hard to be a badass in them, unless you were Sterling Archer. I went with a loose black V-neck long-sleeve shirt. I ran a comb through my damp hair so it would settle.
“Every day.”
She nodded, and finished dressing as well. She wore her usual ensemble—dark blue jeans, Reeboks, and a black blouse with the words “Team Alucard” emblazoned in blood red on the front. My wife was an unrepentant dork sometimes.
“You miss the restaurant?”
“Waitressing, no,” she admitted, brushing the tangles out of her hair. “The restaurant itself, yes.”
“How’s Lauren?”
She stopped brushing for a second. Then her shoulders squared. “Better. We’re still not talking a lot, but we are talking.”
“What about Lily?”
“She’s fine,” she assured me, and a huge knot unfurled in my gut. “They’ve both got a protection detail for the time being. Not that it makes me feel much better.”
I frowned as she started brushing her teeth. “Why?”
She spat into the sink. “Not sure if you know this, but most of the angels are pissed off at me because of the Leviathan incident. A lot of them don’t want to help me, or anyone associated with me.”