Betrayal

by ML Guida

  She looked at Raphael. “Tell him.”

  Raphael bowed his head. “The honor is yours, my lady.”

  “Tell me what?” Blade clasped Samantha’s chin and turned her face. “Don’t be afraid. I need to know.”

  She bit her lip. “You’ve sinned.”

  Looking at Raphael, Scythe cocked his eyebrow. “Really, Sherlock?”

  Raphael shrugged.

  “Yeah, I know that. I’m a fallen angel.”

  Samantha clutched Blade’s jacket. “Before you can meet your true angel-mate, you have to atone for what you have done.”

  He released her chin. “I’m a demon so…”

  “Actually, that’s not true.” Raphael walked over to Blade who jerked away from him. He held up his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He pointed his index finger toward the sky. “You’ve got some clout still in Heaven. The Boss likes you, despite what you’ve done.”

  “There’s a but in there,” Scythe said. Peter wasn’t known for turning the other cheek, especially when it came to angels. Justice was swift and quick.

  Raphael gazed at Blade. “I can’t completely heal you until you repent.”

  “Not asking you too, asshole,” Blade growled. “I’ve switched teams.”

  “Since your team forfeited, you’re still ours.” Raphael snapped his fingers. “Orders.”

  Everything went pitch black. Scythe couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face. He whirled around, but couldn’t see anything. “Heather?” He ran to where she had been crumpled on the ground. “Heather?” He knelt and inched his hands onto the hard grounds, pine needles stuck into his palm and dirt dug under his nails.

  “Relax, Angel,” Raphael said in a bored voice. “She’s the least of your worries.”

  His fingers brushed over something silky. He ran his hand over her head, down to her shoulder and squeezed. “Heather,” he whispered, a lump forming in his throat.

  The wind picked up speed and roared. Sharp, hard and soft debris slapped Scythe in the face and hands. Chairs skidded on the deck. Glass broke. Something tore in the night as if a large piece of cloth ripped in two.

  Blade’s scream pierced his ears.

  “Blade!” Scythe spread his body on top of Heather, pinning her to the ground. He lowered his head as more fragments of what felt like sticks, stones, grass, and whatever else on the ground plummeted into his hair, side, arms and legs. His body turned to ice. He clutched Heather’s frozen hand. “Raphael, for the love of God ”

  Scythe put his palms on the back of his head and lay face down on the ground. His chest and stomach covered Heather’s face and abdomen.

  At another gut wrenching scream, Scythe gritted his teeth. Thumping and walloping erupted where Blade and Samantha had been standing. Why wasn’t she yelling? What happened to her?

  The wind ceased. Scythe lifted his head. The glowing moon and the dimmed lights flipped on as if by a switch. Raphael stood where he had been before, not one hair out of place. Samantha was gone, but Blade was lying face down. “You said you wouldn’t kill him!”

  Scythe scampered off Heather. Her chest rose and fell. Alive. He sped over to Blade and skidded onto his knees. Blade’s hands were stretched over his head and his legs were spread eagle. Scythe couldn’t even breathe. A sharp pain filled his heart as if a spear pierced him. “For Heaven’s sake, Raphael,” Scythe choked. “You said you wouldn’t kill him.”

  His hand shaking, he turned Blade over onto his side. Blade’s face was pale and his jaw clamped tight as if he were in pain, but he was breathing.

  “He’s not dead,” Raphael said.

  “I can see that. What the bloody hell did you do?”

  “He’s human.”

  “He’s what?”

  “Human.”

  Scythe blinked. Shit, that sucked. “What? Why?”

  “He’ll remain human until he repents for his sins.”

  “Where did Samantha…”

  Raphael tilted his head. “Back in Heaven where she belongs.”

  Scythe gazed at his brother’s ashen face. Unease spread over him. “What happens if he doesn’t…”

  “Repent?” Raphael examined his fingernails. “Then he remains human.”

  “Shit! You saw how he was. He’s in pain, twisted, furious. He’ll never admit…”

  “Then he’ll die.”

  Scythe glared. “You promised you wouldn’t kill him.”

  Raphael stopped looking at his precious nails. “There you go assuming. He has a soul and he’ll make the choice on what path he’ll follow. Thanks to you. He’ll die a natural death.” He frowned. “Well, at least by Heaven’s terms. Can’t say about the other team.”

  “You can’t do this.”

  “It’s done, Angel.”

  “Well, isn’t this special. I’ll have to protect him night and day.”

  “Actually you won’t.” He snapped his fingers and Blade disappeared.

  Scythe whirled around. “For Heaven’s sake, where is he?”

  “Someplace where you can’t find him. He has to do this on his own.”

  Rage, terror, and loss gripped Scythe. He arched his back, stretched out his arms and screamed. “No!” He failed again. A human can be possessed. Shot. Tortured. Broken.

  “You have more important things to worry about, Angel. Your mate awakes.”

  21

  Heather groaned. She put her palm on her forehead. “Where am I?”

  “You don’t remember anything?”

  She squinted and opened one eye. A silhouette of a man loomed over her. In back of him was Susan’s mountain cabin. What was she doing here?

  Shadows hid the man’s features. “Who are you?” She struggled to sit. Every time her heart beat a thrusting pain hit her side. She gasped for breath. “Why do I hurt everywhere? I feel like I ran into Mt. Everest.”

  “You still don’t know who I am?”

  His voice was so familiar she should know the voice. She wiped her hands on her pants. “No, but I feel like I should?”

  “Yes, you should.”

  His husky voice sent shivers down her. The moon cast an eerie glow on him. His brilliant white aura sparkled, and his eyes burned silver. She’d seen those eyes before. She reached for her necklace that was tingling and rubbed her thumb over it.

  A name burst through her mind. “Scythe, your name is Scythe.”

  He half grinned. “Ah, so the drug hasn’t completely wiped your memory clean.”

  “What drug? I’m a Licensed Clinical Social Worker and work in a drug and alcohol treatment center.” She sat straighter, despite the stiffness in her joints. “I don’t take drugs.”

  Even as she denied it, a fierce hunger grew in her belly. Every nerve screamed for something, something that took the pain away, not her aches and pains, but real agony like her sister hating her. But could she blame her? Rosemary had never forgiven her for denying their father had sexually abused them. He’d hadn’t abused Heather, but he had Rosemary as a child. She remembered the door creaking open and her father’s soft footsteps entering the room. Heather lay in her twin bed, hugging her teddy bear listening to Rosemary’s soft whimpers and her father’s grunts.

  The guilt swelled inside her. She should have done something. Yelled. Anything.

  “Heather,” Scythe said. “You were just a little girl.”

  She frowned. He could read her thoughts? Shit.

  “No, you don’t understand.”

  He clasped her hand and she felt strangely comforted. What was it about him?

  “What I said to her. Both then and now. I should have been there for her. Not condemned her.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “I don’t want to feel bad anymore. I want to forget. I took something that buried my pain, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, but it will only mask the pain.”

  She put her hand on her heart. “You don’t understand. I can feel the guilt. It’s burning me.”

  “Raphael.” Scythe squeezed
her hand. “Do something. She’s in pain. Heal her.”

  A young man bathed in an illuminating light approached. Stars weaved around his head. He had porcelain skin and wore nothing, but a pair of jeans. His sculpted abs glistened in the light. His aura emitted a power she had never experienced. Electrifying. Commanding. Terrifying. She had to shield her eyes from the brightness.

  He knelt and the light dimmed. “Hello, Heather. My name is Raphael.”

  Her memory slammed into her. “I recognize your voice. I don’t remember much else. You were the one talking inside my head, weren’t you?”

  He gave her a sardonic smile. “Yes, it was me. Even trapped in a Heaven’s cell, I was able to contact you through the cross—Christ’s Most Precious Blood.”

  She clutched the cross tighter. “Why did you want to help me?”

  “Because of him.” He tilted his head at Scythe. “He’s a lot of trouble.”

  Scythe snorted.

  “But I believe in him.” Raphael pushed her hair out of her face and for a moment the pain lessened. “I can’t heal you completely.”

  “Heal me from what?”

  His beautiful face darkened. “Xanadu.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said, but the name struck terror inside her.

  “You will,” he said.

  “Don’t sit there blabbing like an idiot, Raphael, heal her. Now.”

  Raphael gripped Scythe’s shoulder. “Always the impatient one and dense for that matter.”

  “Raphael,” Scythe warned.

  “Heather, only your angel-mate may heal you, but I can restore your memories—all of them. The good and the bad.” He lowered his voice. “Would you like that?”

  A blanket of dread settled onto her heart, but she needed to remember. “Yes.”

  Scythe gripped her hand tighter. “Hold on.”

  “Hold on? What do…”

  Before she finished her sentence, Raphael touched her forehead with his thumb. Light blazed into her skull. Hot perspiration drenched her and she couldn’t breathe. The darkness in her mind melted and buried memories burst through. Memories of her parents, Rosemary, Serenity House, angels, Scythe, and a demon. He’d touched her soul, scalding it. She screamed.

  Scythe held her close. “It’s okay, Heather. I’m here. He can’t hurt you.”

  The smell of sandalwood relaxed her muscles. She nestled closer to him. “Where…is…he?”

  “The demon? He’s back in hell.”

  “And Raphael?”

  “Gone. Wherever he wants to go.” He draped his arm over her shoulder. “Here, let me help you up.”

  “Okay.” She leaned against him. “Raphael’s an Archangel?”

  “That’s him.” He lifted her into his arms and carried her to Susan’s deck and sat her in a chair.

  “Wait, Susan.” The horrible cat fight rushed over her. She’d clawed Susan’s face and repeatedly slammed her fist into her friend’s lower back. Fear pooled in her stomach. Her chest tightened. “I didn’t kill her, did I?” She clutched Scythe’s bicep. “Please, tell me I didn’t.”

  An intense buzzing sensation crawled over her feet and up her legs. It was that damn drug, but then the memory of euphoria hit her. When she’d attacked Susan, her mind had been crystal clear. She wanted Xanadu and would do anything to get it. She still wanted it. Energy abounded inside her. With a little more determination, she could fly. The best part was that her memories didn’t hurt her anymore. She could forget. Crap, the lust wasn’t over yet.

  “Heather, Susan isn’t here.”

  “What?” A cold terror crashed into her stomach. “Is-is she dead?”

  He caressed her bruised cheek with the back of his hand, lessening the throbbing.

  “Raphael took her,” he said.

  She slumped. Her dread spiked. She’d murdered Susan. Her best friend. “You mean I killed her?”

  “No, he healed her.”

  Hope seared through her. She breathed a sigh of joy. She looked around the grounds of Susan’s cabin. “So where…”

  “Probably home.”

  “When you say healed…”

  “She’s not addicted to Xanadu.”

  She frowned. “But he said…”

  “Susan wasn’t mated so he possessed the power to heal her.”

  She swallowed and looked at her shaking hands. “I’m mated to you so he can’t heal me.” She bit her lip. “It’s growing inside me. I feel it. I’m keeping the desire at bay, but I don’t know for how long. Even now, I lust for it.”

  “Xanadu?”

  She nodded.

  He lifted her chin. He lowered his dark head and his breath was a downy caress over her mouth. His tongue opened her mouth and she flinched as his demanding kiss pressed against her bruised mouth. Tremors ran through her and for a minute, she’d forgotten about the drug.

  He released her. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “The last thing I want is to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t. It was nice. Don’t stop.” His hot lips brushed onto her throat and she moved her neck to give him more excess to her flesh. He took advantage, sucking a gentle path down to the hollow of her shoulder. Her breath came in short gasps and her fingers clasped the arms of the chair as she leaned back allowing him to do what he pleased. The hunger diminished and a new hunger brewed, a hunger for him.

  “You’re alive, my sweet,” he mumbled. He ran his hands over her arms. “I know what to do.”

  “You do?”

  “I want you, and only you.”

  His husky voice sent a hot desire rippling through her. Her nipples tightened into tight peaks and pushed against her bra trying to pierce the barrier. She wanted his hands and mouth on her flesh, to be skin to skin, to feel him thrusting inside her again and again.

  “Take me,” she whispered.

  He cupped her chin. “You’re hurt.”

  She draped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her. “I don’t care.” She rubbed her cheek against his stubble one. “Love me. Make me forget.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Don’t tempt me.”

  “But…”

  He put his trembling finger on her mouth and she kissed it. She smiled at the power she had over this man, not a man, but an angel.

  “Heather,” he breathed heavily. “Raphael only numbed your physical pain. Otherwise, the Xanadu would control you. And you would…”

  “Kill you,” she said. “I remember everything, Scythe. I’m so sorry I didn’t know what I was doing.”

  “I know, but the frenzy will return. Unless…” He hesitated. As the dawn rose, darkness remained on his face. A shiver ran through Heather. He feared something. An angel of death? Great, if he was terrified, then she should be scared out of her pants.

  “Tell me what’s wrong.” She whisked his silky hair away from his handsome face. “We can face it together.”

  The morning light highlighted his high cheekbones and firm chin. “No, Heather, you must defeat it. Alone. The Xanadu is feeding on your guilt. You have to face Rosemary and ask for her forgiveness. If you do, the drug will no longer have power over you. I can take you to her.”

  Heather blinked. Had he gone mad? “You mean in Heaven? She hates me.”

  “If she doesn’t forgive you, then the Xanadu will destroy you. You must find a way to earn your sister’s forgiveness.”

  Face Rosemary? The last time she saw Rosemary, she had thrown her out of the house. Actually she’d had Rosemary arrested. No wonder the woman despised her. “You don’t understand.”

  “I know you had her arrested.”

  Heather leaned her head back. “Is there anything you don’t know?”

  He half grinned. “About you? No.” He traced his hand down her arm. “You had no choice, Heather. Rosemary shouldn’t have stolen your debit card.”

  “I know, but she was desperate. I should have forgiven her. The last thing she told me was that she hated me.”

  “But if you hadn’t done that, s
he’d never would have become sober.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  He kissed her hand. “Trust in your bond.”

  He had faith in her, faith that she didn’t have for herself. She gave him a weak smile, but his attempt of reassurance failed to sooth her guilt. Rosemary had every right to hate her. Not only did she have her sister arrested and condemned her drug use, but as a child, she allowed Rosemary to sacrifice herself to their leaching father. Talk about being a hypocritical social worker. How could she tell him the truth? He was an angel. He had fought to save his brother, never turning his back on him, even defying the Archangel Michael. “Where is Blade? Is he, uh…”

  Scythe cocked his eyebrow. “You mean dead?”

  She nodded.

  “No, but he might as well be.”

  “What?”

  The morning sun shined on his head and a halo formed around his crown. He plopped onto the deck and crossed his legs. Staring straight ahead, he snatched a pine twig lying on the deck and broke it into tiny pieces. He slammed his fist onto the deck and the boards rumbled. “Raphael made him human.”

  Heather jumped. “That’s worse than being a demon?”

  “For him it is. He’s vulnerable. If Balthazar finds him, he’s dead.”

  Scythe seized the bits and launched them at an aspen tree like a grenade. The force skinned off the bark and left a black scorch mark. His strength unnerved her, but she kept forgetting he wasn’t a man.

  “Raphael made it so I couldn’t find him. I have no idea where he is.” He hung his head. “I’ve failed him.”

  His white aura darkened to a light blue that reminded her of the bluebell wild flowers, but then it clouded over and muddied into a deep indigo. Heather rubbed his tense arm. “You’re afraid.”

  He squared his shoulders. “I won’t be able to protect him. I won’t know when he’s in trouble. I won’t know when he’s hurt. He’ll be vulnerable.”

  “From demons?”

  “Not demons. Angels.”

  “Angels?”

  He hung his head. “He pissed off Michael. He’ll send assassins after him.”

  “But then you could…”

  “No.” He ran his hands through his hair. “The assassin angels are part of Michael’s secret force. Even when I was his right hand man, he never told me who they are.”