“Faith, you feel…” He interrupted himself to groan with a savage wave of pleasure. Then he stopped talking altogether, thrusting into her harder and faster. He wanted to demand she come for him, but he needed all of his breath and all of his focus to keep from losing himself before he was ready. He found her sweet spot. He knew it because of the way she gasped when he moved a certain way across it. It was the beginning of the end for her. He exploited that spot to its fullest, working her into a frenzy. He gloried in the feel of her hands grabbing at his shoulders, grasping at his sides. Eventually her hands rested on his ass, fingers dug in, spurring him on harder and faster.
She locked up suddenly in pleasure, clamping down on him like a vise. He felt the muscles of her vagina contracting in a rolling massage that was determined to milk him. It succeeded famously. He growled as pleasure bucked through him, release jettisoned with unbelievable force. It was as though she was ripping his soul free of its foundations and for that brief moment he thought he could imagine how it must have felt for Jackson to lose hold of his soul.
Only, Jackson never had it so good.
Faith woke up unable to tell if it were day or night at first. Probably because she didn’t really care. Leo had used her very well. Very very well. They had made love endlessly, it seemed, until neither could think about moving and they had fallen asleep together.
She lay quietly, taking account of herself and of the room around her. She was sore from head to toe, she realized. It had been quite some time since she’d had a man in her bed and she supposed she was really out of shape. Not used to it for certain. She hadn’t found it easy to take lovers in the Night Angel world. There were so many of them grasping for power and position and thinking she would be an excellent method of climbing to the top, and having been down that road before…and badly…she was cautious about letting it happen again. But Leo didn’t care about the things she might inherit one day…if she inherited them at all. Her mother or father would have to die before she’d have access to a throne. She was the eldest child for them both, her mother having birthed a son after her and her father having sired another daughter. Since she had lived with her father all of her life, she didn’t consider her mother’s throne her own. She would leave that to her brother. And anyway, she didn’t like to think about these things. She found it maudlin to consider her parent’s deaths. Inevitable as it may be, she didn’t want it to happen anytime soon at all.
She finally decided to move, lifting her head from the pillow. She rolled toward Leo, snuggling up to him and laying her ear over his heart. She listened to the low, steady beat of it and smiled.
What future is there in this?
Faith pushed that thought away. She didn’t want to consider what the ramifications of this night might be. What might become of it. If she started thinking…started hoping…
Grey had shown them a future that now no longer existed. That future had been contingent on Jackson’s death. And while she was grateful she and Leo would not be suffering a death of their child, it disturbed her that it might mean he would never come to love her.
Like she was coming to love him.
Oh, she knew she had barely scratched the surface of him, but ever since they had lived love together she had just…known. She had known it could never be any other way for her. That didn’t guarantee he saw it even remotely the same way, but for her part…
She sighed, closing her eyes and trying to coax herself into just living in the moment. Why couldn’t she just take this an instant at a time? She needed to slow down. Leo spooked so easily…he could be gone as soon as he was able and she would be left to pick up the tattered remains of her heart.
God, she should not give him that kind of power over her, but she couldn’t help herself. And if this is what it would take…if leaving herself open for hurt was where this must go, then she would simply take the journey. If she wanted to hope for a reward, then she must be willing to risk everything.
So she closed her eyes and listened to his heart. Listened to the whoosh of his breaths, enjoyed the life in him.
“I have this sense that you are thinking very deep thoughts,” he said, his voice a rumble under her ear. It was like a symphony made just for her. It made her smile to think of it that way.
“Why do you say that?”
“I may not be able to read your scroll, but I can hear a forlorn little sigh like the one you just made and know there are deep thoughts behind it.”
“Well, you would be right, but I was just telling myself not to think too deeply. To simply enjoy the moment for what it is.”
“Hmm. A fine idea, that,” he agreed. “Thinking too much causes trouble.”
Faith winced. Was that his way of warning her? Was he telling her not to trespass too close to his heart, because he would not consider giving it away? Or was she just reading too deeply into an offhand remark?
“More sighs,” he noted, making her realize she’d done so again. She’d have to watch out for that, she thought. “We’ve had too much to process these past couple of days. You should just relax and enjoy the quiet.”
“I plan to. But perhaps that can wait until after I eat. I’m starving.”
“Now that you mention it, so am I.” And as if to support the statement, she heard his stomach rumble. It made her laugh. He reached out and smacked her bottom, hauling them both out of bed before she could complain or resist. “Get dressed,” he said.
“Well, aren’t you bossy,” she said with a sniff. “I don’t like clothes, remember?”
“Hmm. Have I mentioned I enjoy your customs so far?” At her laugh he added, “But do it for me because I know I won’t be able to keep my hands off you otherwise.”
And, he thought, I don’t want anyone else looking at your bare body. It’ll keep me from having to deck someone. And since most of the males in the house could turn to stone or smite him with supernatural forces, he’d rather not.
“All right,” she said, “as a favor to you then.”
They got dressed and made their way down to the kitchen.
“I assume you eat all the normal foods?” he said. “Can I make you an omelet?”
“With hot sauce. I like hot sauce.”
“Hot sauce?” He chuckled at that. “The hotter the better?”
“I like ghost chili peppers.”
“Holy shit. That’s serious business.”
“Night Angels love hot and spicy foods.” She shrugged. “That’s just the way it is. I’m just more serious about it than most!”
Leo went about making them breakfast while she went on a hunt for hot sauce. She was victorious, albeit not highly impressed with the hotness of the sauce, but willing to make do in a pinch.
After they finished eating he went to clean up, giving her a nice deep kiss before doing so.
“Mmm, spicy,” he said, licking his lips. She laughed at him and pushed away from the table.
“Only just figuring that out?” she countered.
“Seem to be.”
“I’m going for a walk. Join me when you’re done? I need to feel the wind. And then we have to talk about getting me back to where we saw that lost soul. There’s a cusp nearby, she just isn’t seeing it. I need to guide her to it.”
“Of course we can. We’ll go after I’m done here.”
“You don’t have to come with me, I can just…” She brushed her shoulders, indicating her wings. They might be presently hidden, but they were more than able to carry her back to that soul.
“We’ll go together, if you don’t mind. I’d like to see you do this…if it’s okay. Will I be able to see it?”
“Well, I’m more used to hiding what I do from humans. I guess there’s no real trick to not hiding it. Sure. I’d love it if you could watch.”
“Good. I want to understand more about you.”
The words made Faith’s heart soar recklessly. That and the words striping across his scroll that told her he honestly did want to know more about
her, that the actions he was taking were true to his real intentions. He was being so incredibly open…whereas before he had tried so hard to shut her down. It was almost as though she were dealing with two different men. She liked to think this more carefree version of Leo was the way it was supposed to be.
Faith went out the front door and onto the porch. She breathed deep of the nighttime desert air and reached out far and wide with her sense of the wind. It was very still, barely a single breeze, and she always found that a little nerve-racking. Without wind there was no way for her to feel everything around herself. No way to know where things were.
She stepped off the porch, took two steps and then stopped. She took another breath and—
The red explosion that hit her was like a bath of fire, and she screamed. The force of it was so hard that she was ruthlessly whipped about, her body spinning down to the ground. Stunned but conscious, she threw up her repulsion shield, covering herself, protecting herself from the next attack.
But the next attack was not of a power she could repel. It was a leap of an incredibly heavy body onto her back and a knife brutally stabbing twice into and out of her side before she could even think of reacting. The message of pain it delivered was agonizing when the shock of the strike began to wear off. Her attacker kept hitting her, the knife sinking into her harder and faster, all the while he was keeping out of her reach. Furious, her wings snapped to full breadth, blue energy lighting the night. But the attacking force barreled into her again before she could take flight. And this time he put the knife right up under her ribs, instantly puncturing a lung.
Faith gasped for breath, but even though she had full use of one of her lungs, it felt as though she couldn’t breathe at all. Adrenaline made her body breathe harder, as did panic, and she knew it was hurting her instead of helping her because every breath sent warm rushes of blood spitting out of her wounded body. Then she felt a hand tangling into her hair and she was yanked across the ground. Her attacker had terrifying strength and he dragged her several yards with each pull. She kicked out with her feet, clawed at the hands in her hair. He threw her head down into the hard earth.
“Bad toy!” he spat out at her before kicking her in the head. “Now. Come play. We’re going to have so much fun together.”
He reached to grab her hair again.
Out of nowhere a dark, fast shape leaped over her and barreled into her attacker, plowing them both into the soil in a tumbling mass of arms and legs. Faith knew instantly it was Leo and knew he didn’t stand a chance against Chatha in hand to hand. And now that she’d had a second to focus on him, she knew it was indeed Chatha, his name scrawled in childlike print over one scroll as Andy and the other scroll as Chatha.
“No!” she croaked, forcing herself to scramble toward Leo. Chatha had just bucked Leo off himself and was rearing back, the spell for the Curse of Ra, the fiery red flame, erupting from his lips just as she reached the minimum distance needed to throw up her repulsive shield over him. The red explosion blinded her night acclimated eyes, but it didn’t matter. Chatha’s attack was deflected back at him, the strike making him scream out in pain and fury. His scrolls lit up in such a confusing, contradicting flurry of responses it hurt to look at them.
Leo skidded over to her, throwing his leg over her, straddling her protectively as he pulled his weapon and aimed for Chatha.
Somehow, against all of what she knew he was feeling, through all the rage and contempt and the fear, he shot Chatha in a leg. Not the heart or the head, but the leg. The psychopathic Bodywalker squealed and screamed, then flung out another volley of the Curse of Ra.
“Slow learning curve, motherfucker?” Leo asked as the attack was repelled again and Chatha was left screaming in pain and fury.
But the Curse wasn’t the only weapon in Chatha’s arsenal, which was apparent a heartbeat later when he spit out a spell and the ground suddenly went soft beneath them. It was an attack she couldn’t repel because it wasn’t inherently offensive. The weight of Faith’s body began to sink into the soil. Like quicksand it sucked her and Leo down, forcing Leo to shove his weapon into the back waistband of his jeans and grab for Faith. She tried to help him, but she’d lost so much blood so quickly that her whole body had gone weak. She began to panic because she didn’t know if she could last much longer, and if she lost consciousness or became too weak she couldn’t protect Leo from Chatha’s offensive attacks. He would be even more outmatched than he already was.
Luckily the quicksand was only in a small, localized area and Leo was able to grab onto solid ground. But he wasn’t strong enough to haul himself and Faith out of the mess at the same time, so he had to let go of her and pull himself up. He dug in and grabbed for her. But as soon as he had her on solid ground Chatha cast the spell again. Leo didn’t even have time or energy to waste on swearing the blue streak of words raging through his mind. The quicksand was cold because the soil was cold, and that made him aware of the warm liquid sensation spilling over his arm as he hauled Faith up, yet again, to solid ground.
And Chatha cast the spell again.
“Fuck! Faith, I have to put him down!” he growled in impotent fury.
“Do it!”
He pulled his weapon, the thing filthy with mud and dirt, and aimed it.
Oh, but he wanted to pull the trigger and blow his brain out his nostrils, but part of him screamed that that was the easy way. That Chatha deserved the hard way. He didn’t want to listen to himself, but just the same the second bullet hit Chatha in his collarbone. Leo had broken his collarbone once, during parachuting training in the Rangers. And he knew it was the most agonizing pain he could have imagined…but that had been before Chatha.
Chatha fell onto the ground screaming, curling up and rocking like a child with a badly skinned knee.
“That should fuck with his concentration long enough for me to get you out of here,” he said to Faith, making sure they were both on solid ground before reaching to swing her up into his arms.
“I’ve got her,” a low, masculine voice assured him. Leo looked up into Kamenwati’s eyes, the Bodywalker having lowered into a crouch in front of him, graceful hands moving to take hold of Faith. Leo’s first instinct was to grab Faith and hold her tighter, more protectively than ever.
“Why don’t you worry about that tool from your torturer’s emergency kit?” he said, jerking his head toward Chatha. “Because I sure as hell am not giving her to you! So keep your hands to yourself before I pick a part of your anatomy for target practice!”
“Give her to me then,” Ahnvil said, coming to kneel in front of him. Leo watched a little numbly as the Gargoyle, his slate-gray stone skin gleaming over the contours of his body and his amber eyes glowing with a deep fiery warmth that belied the cold marble look of his skin, lifted Faith while gaining his full height. It was as if he carried a baby, a doll so light and insignificant.
Once he saw them heading to safety, he gained his feet, whirled around and marched to where Chatha lay on the ground moaning and whimpering. Kamen and Grey were standing over him, guarding to make sure he didn’t budge. Kamen looked up at Leo’s approach.
“Come,” Grey said, pointing down at Chatha. “It’s time we put this monster back in the Ether for another hundred years. It is the best we can do, but no one deserves the honor more than you. Perhaps you will find some of the closure you desire.”
Leo laughed sardonically. “In order for me to come close to giving him equal payback, I would have to become the same animal that he is. I’ll be happy to prove I’m better than him by doing the one thing he refused to do for me. I’ll be putting him out of his misery.”
Leo pointed the gun at Chatha’s head, aiming right between his eyes. The rounded eyes and cheeks of Down syndrome innocence glared up at him, and he had to remind himself that this was the only way. His finger tensed around the trigger, but he did not pull it even though everything inside of him, everything angry and violent and scared to fucking death inside of him was
reaching so hard for it that his hand was shaking.
This is a good death, he reminded himself hotly. It’s justice as well as vengeance and a far sight more humane than the other half of Andy deserves.
“Goddammit!” he ground out, stepping back and turning in a hard about-face. He paced away just three short steps, turned back and pointed the gun at him again.
And still he could not shoot. Why? he demanded of himself. How often had you prayed for this opportunity? Why can’t you do it?
“Here, let me do it,” Kamen said quietly reaching to take Leo’s weapon from him.
“No!” Leo jerked back from him. “Just…just let me think! God!”
He looked toward the direction Faith had been taken, a part of him knowing that she was a source of peace and focus, something he desperately needed right then. If anyone could set him straight, it would be Faith. But she was long gone. That left only one other potential source of comfort and that was Grey. But he hardly knew or understood Grey so the likelihood of finding any solace…
Leo stilled, his eyes swinging back to Chatha…then back to Grey.
“I want to make a wish,” he said with sudden inspiration.
“No,” Jackson said, pacing the room in a sharp, tight circuit, ignoring Marissa who followed him every single step as if to catch him should he grow suddenly weak. It wasn’t so far-fetched an idea. Leo’s friend had looked much better. “It can’t be done.”
They had bundled Chatha up into the main parlor of the residence, leaving him moaning behind a gag, so he couldn’t cast any spells, and tied up so he couldn’t physically fight either, although it was clear that there was no physical fight left in him. He, like Faith, had lost a great deal of blood.
“Why not?” Leo demanded of him. “If he can tie a soul down,” he pointed to Grey, “and Apep can sever a soul, why can’t a wish sever one soul and leave the other intact?”
“That’s too simplistic! The souls aren’t two independent entities! They’ve Blended…”
“That’s not how I understand it,” Leo shot back. “As I understand it Templars suppress their hosts, rather then Blend with them.”
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