by ML Guida
“I never thought about it before,” she said.
He eased up on his I-am-king-of-the-mountain stance. “Most people don’t.”
A cold chill ran through Heather. The monster lost patience and wanted it now. She looked between Scythe and Rosemary. Couldn’t they see she was hanging on by a thread?
“She’s getting worse,” Scythe frowned.
“What?” Rosemary asked.
“Xanadu isn’t just a drug. It’s alive. It thrives on hurting and killing people. Raphael the Archangel slowed the process, but he couldn’t heal her.”
“You mean as in the Archangel?”
“Yes, the Archangel,” he said. “Xanadu feeds off guilt, drives people mad.”
“Like it did with me?”
“Obviously.”
Heather held her stomach. “God, I’m so hungry.”
Rosemary rolled her eyes. “Great, you want something to eat?”
“No, she wants the drug. It wants to be fed.”
“Rosemary,” Heather gasped. “I know what I did to you was wrong. I want to make amends to you. Please tell me what I can do.”
Rosemary turned away. The wind blew her dress around her legs and her long hair in front of her face. Her toes dug into the dirt. Ignoring the pain, Heather waited. She wanted Xanadu, but she wanted her sister’s forgiveness even more. At that thought, another piercing pain hit her and drove her to the ground.
“Heather!” Rosemary rushed to her side. “Are you okay?”
“Peachy.”
Rosemary wrapped her arms around Heather. “I don’t hate you.” She relaxed against Heather’s body. “I’m pissed at you. I can’t forget what you did to me.”
“Forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting,” Scythe said. “Forgiveness means releasing the anger and embracing acceptance—acknowledging human frailty.”
Another wave of jabbing agony swept through Heather. She gritted her teeth. The urge to attack Scythe and scratch his eyes out for not giving her Xanadu rippled through her. No, not happening. “Rosemary, I know I can’t change the past. Forgive me. Not for my sake, but yours. Don’t carry this resentment for eternity.”
“It’s not Rosemary who has to forgive you,” Scythe said.
Heather stared. His shimmering aura glowed. A blinding white glow blocked out the forest. “You have to forgive yourself. Only then will you defeat Xanadu.”
“I can’t.”
Rosemary laid her head on Heather’s shoulder. “I don’t want you like this, Heather.” She inhaled. “I know how you can make amends.”
“How?”
“Write my story,” she said. “You can make amends by a writing the book and telling people what really happened. That will heal you and me. The hardest part I ever did in recovery is forgiving myself. I had to face what I did, accept it and learn to love myself. You have to turn this over to God. He’ll heal you.”
Heather turned to her. “He will?”
Rosemary rubbed her back. “You kept silent because you were afraid. Face the fear. Tell people your part in this and mine. You’ve never told people the truth about what happened. Let children know what happens when they keep deadly secrets.”
Blood thumped between her temples. Waves and waves of agony swept through her. She gripped the cross. A battle wielded inside her. The monster wheeled its ugly head again, but this time, Heather felt something different. She felt its fear. “I’ll do it,” she panted, “I promise.”
Rosemary wrapped her fingers around Heather’s chin and forced Heather to look at her. “Sis, on earth I was an addict. I know what you’re going through. You have to turn this over to a higher power. Repeat after me—God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…”
When Heather repeated the words, the monster inside her screamed. Power warmed her hand. She hadn’t even realized she was touching the cross.
“Have faith,” Raphael’s voice whispered in her mind.
Heather’s heart pounded and each beat sent a power building inside her. Not taking her eyes off Scythe, his strength flowed through her. His light soothed her hot sweat.
“Courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference,” Rosemary said.
Heather recited the words.
“Now,” Rosemary said. “I’m dead. Nothing can change that. You abandoned me when I needed you the most. You can’t change that either.”
Heather trembled and tried to breathe, but the desire for a hit overwhelmed her. The monster put forth all its power. She focused on Scythe. He didn’t touch her, but she embraced his comforting presence. She closed her eyes and delved deep inside herself, listening to her sister’s soft voice, but another voice over shadowed hers. Xanadu.
In her mind’s eye, a red eyed monster glared at her. “I promise to heal you if you take another hit,” he said. “All of your troubles will vanish. Trust in me. Remember how I feel.”
The monster transformed into a beautiful dark haired woman wearing a white dress. She held a wand in her hand and touched Heather. Feelings of euphoria rushed over her. All her pain, guilt, and hate vanished. She soared higher than any eagle, and had more energy than the Energizer Bunny, but then the faces of her murdered clients, their victims, and Rosemary rushed over her.
A beautiful white light formed and her hunky angel appeared. “Come to me.”
His soft voice promised peace and tranquility. She wanted to be with him. Forever. Drawing on her strength, she reached out and snatched Scythe’s hand. A bright light emanated from him, blocking out everything but his silver eyes. Power surged through her.
“Your sins are forgiven, my child.”
A gentle voice hushed in her ear.
The monster snarled and hissed, tearing away at her soul bit by bit. Heather rocked on her heels, but power surged through her. She closed her eyes. This time, a silver sword appeared in her hand. The Xanadu Demon spit fire at her. Heather swung and the fire bounced off the sword. “For Rosemary,” she yelled. She charged the beast.
The beast roared.
“Die!”
With all of her might, she lurched and threw the sword, hitting the beast in the chest. It shrieked and clutched its ribs. Black ooze gushed out of its scaly flesh.
Heather opened her eyes. She arched her back and screamed. Red smoke poured out of her mouth. It stunk and the bitter taste burned her throat, tongue and lips. She collapsed.
Strong arms caught her and pulled her against a steel wall. Scythe. He kissed her sweating brow. “It’s gone, angel-mate. You beat it.”
23
Heather looked into Scythe’s proud eyes. He believed in her. The terrible pain and consuming craving disappeared. She leaned against Scythe and listened to his pounding heart and steady breath. “I won.”
He stroked her hair. “Your belief in yourself destroyed it. Your guilt ceased to destroy your soul. Forgiveness kills Xanadu.”
“Oh, my God,” Rosemary cried. “What happened?”
“She destroyed it,” Scythe said.
Heather couldn’t help but smile at the pride in his voice. She turned to her sister. “Rosemary.” She held out her arms. Rosemary hesitated for one brief second, but flung herself into Heather’s arms. She clung to her and her heart beat as hard and fast as Heather’s. Her sister’s familiar scent rushed over her. They held each other, laughing and crying—too hysterical inmates in Bedlam.
Rosemary pulled away. “I feel different.”
“You’ve released your anger.”
A bright white light appeared in the glen. The forest dimmed. An oak door with a huge golden lion engraved on it shone through the light. “You’re ready for the next plane,” Scythe said.
Rosemary hesitated and scanned the glen. “But…”
Scythe’s face softened. “The animals will be with you, but this time you won’t be alone.”
The door opened to a lone female figure clothed in a shimmer ivory gown. The light faded. Heather sucked in her breath. Mother. Her s
mooth skin astonished her. Gone were the deep wrinkles that had marred her face from years of smoking. A river of dark hair flowed over her shoulders. Her blue eyes sparkled rather than being dull and listless as Heather remembered. She held out her arms. “Rosemary.”
Rosemary flinched. “Mother?”
“Yes, I’m here. I’ve waited for this for a long time. I love you. Can you forgive me?”
Heather swallowed and held her breath. She couldn’t do this for Rosemary. She had forgiven her mother a long time ago, but Rosemary never had. She resented that she’d never believed her and had listened to their father’s lies even when social services had presented the evidence.
Rosemary bit her lip. “I don’t know…”
“If you’re not ready, you stay here,” Scythe said.
Heather clasped her sister’s quaking hand. “Come on. I’ll go with you.” Rosemary’s lower lip trembled. Together they walked to their mother, the same woman who had made their childhood a nightmare.
Fear reflected in Rosemary’s eyes. Heather squeezed her hand. “I won’t let her hurt you, I promise.”
Her sister nodded. Beyond the door, whiteness burned brighter than any sun, but it didn’t hurt Heather’s eyes. Serenity and warmth bathed her, chasing away all her earthly horrors.
Her mother smiled. Heather almost whooped with laughter. On Earth, her mother never smiled and if she tried, her smile never reached the corner of her eyes, but this one did. A radiant, loving smile.
She squeezed Heather’s arm. “Fallen in love with an angel? Who knew? You saved your sister and yourself, honey. I’m so proud of you.”
She clasped Rosemary’s chin. “I can’t tell you how much I ached for you. My penance was watching your life unfold and how not believing or protecting you tore you apart. I do now. You were a brave little girl. I know what he did to you. Everything. Be at peace daughter.”
“Mom, I…” Rosemary’s voice faded.
“Come.” Her long fingers left Rosemary’s chin and she reached for her hand. “You’ll never have to fear me again.”
Rosemary looked at Heather, her face quizzical.
Heather nodded at Scythe. “You have one of the Angels of Death on your side. No one can hurt you now.”
Scythe snorted, but Heather knew he’d keep an eye on her sister.
“I guess this is good-bye,” Rosemary whispered.
“Not really,” Scythe said. “You’ll see her again.”
“You bet,” Mother said. “You might have mated with my daughter, but I want her married to you legal and proper.”
Rosemary wrinkled her forehead. “What are you talking about?”
Their mother swept a lock of Rosemary’s hair behind her ear. “I’ll explain it to you later, darling.”
Laughing, she pulled Rosemary into the light and the door closed. Her laughter lightened Heather and she couldn’t help but laugh.
Scythe drew her into his arms. “It’s time to go, love.”
She wrapped her arms around Scythe’s neck. “You know what I would like…” She pressed kisses along his tight jaw and up to his mouth.
“No, I can’t imagine.” His voice was low and dangerous.
“A hot shower and someone to scrub my back.”
“Now, that I can arrange.” Wind whipped around them, but she didn’t care. He bent his dark head and his lips captured hers. He crushed her to him and his erection pushed against her thigh. Heather relaxed against him. Love swelled inside her. She wanted to feel his naked skin and feel his lips all over her hot flesh.
Water cascaded over her. She opened her eyes. She blinked at the palm trees, bright red and orange hibiscus bushes, and ferns behind Scythe. She frowned, “Where are we?”
A wicked smile spread on his lips. “A deserted island. You did say you wanted a shower, didn’t you?”
White foamy water splashed over polished brown rocks and emptied into a clear blue pool. A bottle of her favorite shampoo and soap rested on flat stone. He gently turned her shoulders and she gasped. “It’s beautiful.”
He brushed his hand down her body and her clothes disappeared. She glimpsed at his hooded eyes. He caressed her bare arms and he pulled her against his naked chest. His hard erection hit her buttocks. She trembled with desire. “I want you now.”
“I know. Now, I’ll fulfill your every fantasy.”
The cool water glided over her. Heather’s heart quickened at his wicked promise. The ache between her legs throbbed and she thought she’d die from the mixture of want, need, and love if he didn’t take her now. She couldn’t image wanting anyone else, but him.
He faced her and released her hands. His palms covered her breasts, his thumbs stroking her nipple. She gasped. His hot look ignited a desire inside her. The way he touched her, his fingers so strong and sure, his movements determined, sent a chill of titillation up her spine. She put her hands on his massive chest, feeling the slightest movement of power. She slipped her hand lower and ran her hand along his thick shaft hot and full. He sucked in his stomach. She loved making him tremble—her passionate angel of death.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
“Yeah, right,” she murmured. “You’re saying that because I hold your manhood in my hand.” She cupped her palm on his slick cock and he grunted.
“My turn, wench,” he said. Passion and possession flickered in the depths of his silver eyes. She had no doubt she belonged to him body and soul, but then she owned this mighty angel.
He pushed her against the rocks and lowered his head to her right breast. His wicked tongue caressed her angel-mate mark and tremors ran through her. A white light surrounded them. She gasped and she shuddered with desire.
He lifted his dark head. “Whenever I touch, kiss, or lick you, the bond between us grows stronger.”
She ran her fingers through his hair. “Thank Zeus.”
He smiled and lowered his head. His hot lips suckled, bit and teased her nipple. She arched her back wanting him to feast on her and held his head, running her fingers through his slick wet hair. The sensations of the water and hot lips laving her sent her into a meltdown of pure, wanton need. She ached for him—this angel who restored her relationship with her sister and her mother.
He inched his hand down her belly and past her tight curls. He inserted one finger into her feminine core. “You’re so tight.” He moved to the other begging breast and devoured her.
Heather rocked her hips as he moved his finger back and forth. When he inserted another, she cried out. Her body bursts into flames that not even the water cooled. He planted kisses down her torso. She shuddered as he knelt in front of her and pulled out his fingers. He widened her thighs and buried his face in her soft feminine curls.
Heather couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. The water spewed over his back, and she clutched his shoulders and leaned against the rocks to keep from collapsing from sheer pleasure. He gripped her trembling thighs, anchoring her as her building climax exploded. She shivered into a frenzy of forgetfulness.
“Scythe,” she whispered. “Please.” Cool fresh water dripped onto her lips and into her mouth.
He chuckled. He kissed her soft mound one more time before he stood. The water slipped over him, showing off every muscle, every sinew. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”
She didn’t hesitate and locked her ankles around his hips. The broad head of his shaft drove through her soft womanly folds, the friction on her already sensitive nerve endings made her cry out and she buried her head against his sleek shoulder. “I can’t stand it.”
He kissed her neck. “I’ll never let you fall.”
He moved his hips back and thrust deeper. Her muscles clamped tightly around his erection and she dug her nails into his shoulders as he embedded himself deeper. She matched his rhythm, his balls flapped against her. He slid his fingers over her cleft, rubbing until she whisked into a whirlwind of splintering orgasms. Scythe joined her in the heavenly bliss and threw his head back as he came deep
inside her.
He rested his head on her shoulder. His hot breathe blew on her already steamy body. Neither spoke as the water gently massaged their lathered bodies.
Heather lifted Scythe’s chin. “I love you.”
“As I do you, angel-mate. You’re mine for all time.”
She shivered at his words and kissed him. Relief and joy swept over her as she ran her hands through his black hair. “My dark angel of death.” He was hers. Forever.
He picked up the shower gel. “Let me wash you.” For the next few hours, Scythe washed her and attended her every need and desire, by the time he finished, she was a pile of sated mess, but a cat-filled-with-cream kind of smile spread across her lips. She’d get to do this for eternity.
He lifted her and carried her to the beach. He laid her down and stretched out beside her. She rubbed his arm. “I want to thank you for Rosemary.”
He took her fingers and kissed them, sending shivers through her.
She frowned. “What about Blade? I wish I could help.”
“I’ve been thinking about this. I know how you can help him.”
She blinked. “Me? How?”
“Paint him.”
“What?”
“You’re an angel-mate now. Immortal. You’re ability to heal will grow stronger. I believe if you paint him, you’ll help ignite his ability to repent.”
“How do you know this?”
He smiled and rolled on top of her. “Faith. I believe in you. I believe in Blade, Raphael—even Michael.”
“Michael? But he tried to kill him.”
Scythe sighed. “Yes. And he will again. But if Blade truly repents, his soul will change. Michael will forgive him.”
“Will he get his angel powers back?”
His face clouded. “I don’t know. But I will make a Heaven’s good case on why he should.”
He ran his hand down her side and his thumb, caressed a nipple. Heather trembled with desire.
Scythe kissed her neck. “Blade will make his own way. He always has. But you and I need to get back to angel mating.”
Epilogue