I, Angel

by JC Andrijeski

  The longer you wait, the movie star added. The worse it will be for you.

  Dags frowned, but the man in the old-fashioned suit wasn’t finished.

  It’s harder to bring through one of his kind, he added. But if they get enough demons on this side, they can manage it. It might already be too late to stop him.

  Dags frowned. “Stop who?”

  Phoenix clutched his arm, flinching when he spoke.

  It occurred to Dags, if she couldn’t see them, she probably couldn’t hear them, either.

  The movie star smiled his trademark, high-wattage smile. Your grandfather wanted me to tell you… she’s the one. You need to bring her with you.

  “The one?” Dags felt himself bristle. “Bring her where?”

  You need her, the man repeated. You need her at the portal. She’s the one.

  Dags frowned.

  “The one what?” Dags growled.

  The ghostlike man didn’t answer him.

  “I’m not bringing her up there,” Dags said, infusing his voice with more of that blue-green light. “I’m not. You can tell my grandfather that. Tell him ‘no’ from me. Got it? No. That’s not happening.”

  The man held Dags’ gaze, his aura sparking and shimmering.

  It’s too late for that, son, he said simply. She’s in this now. You’ve already made that decision. So has she.

  Chapter 26

  Idiot

  Dags watched her as she left one of the massive bathrooms in the penthouse suite, a cloud of steam erupting around her as the door opened.

  She’d been in there for a while.

  He’d told her what the ghost movie star said to him.

  He told her who that ghost looked like, and sounded like.

  He’d described every aspect he could think of about what transpired down at the pool.

  After he did that, she got really quiet.

  He was a little worried about her.

  She’d been handling all of this so well, so much better than he had, when he first got thrust into the reality of things he couldn’t explain. She’d been handling it so well, in fact, he’d more or less forgotten how new all of this was for her. He’d had years to get used to the weirdness that was his life after the Change.

  She’d had less than seventy-two hours.

  He just sat there, on a high-backed chair near the upstairs window, watching as she combed out her long dark hair, wearing a bathrobe. She paced around as she combed out her hair, not looking at him directly, her mouth forming a hard line under her nose.

  He tried to decide if he should just ask her if she was okay.

  He tried to decide if it was better to stay silent, to let her work out what she needed to work out and not bombard her with a bunch of stupid questions.

  On the other hand, sometimes asking people things gave them an opening to talk when they wanted to talk. It could open her up… or it could shut her down.

  He couldn’t read her aura, so he had absolutely no idea which one it might be.

  Maybe he should leave the bedroom altogether.

  Maybe he should just leave her alone⏤

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” she snapped, turning on him. “Stop it! I can practically hear you thinking. Just be a normal fucking person for once. Just be a person with me.”

  Dags felt his jaw harden. “What does that mean?” he said. “In this context. Right now, I mean. What do you want me to do?”

  Giving him another exasperated look, she snorted.

  Then, seeming to lose her temper again, she threw down the comb she’d been using on her hair, missing the night table so it fell to the floor.

  She left it there, walking directly up to him.

  “Get up!” she snapped, motioning at him. “Stop sitting there, staring at me, like I’m some kind of patient of yours. Or a wild animal you’re waiting to freak out.”

  Dags rose obediently to his feet.

  He stood there, gazing down at her awkwardly. Not sure what he should do with his hands, he tried shoving them in his pockets, then, when that felt even weirder, he folded his arms across his chest, his hands balled into fists.

  Phoenix glared up at him.

  “Ask me if I’m okay,” she demanded.

  “Are you⏤”

  “NO!” she exploded, taking a step towards him. “How the fuck would I be okay right now, Dags? Clark Gable just told you I have to help you close some kind of hell portal. That somehow I’m the one who’s supposed to know how to fix this⏤”

  Dags was slowly shaking his head. “No. Not exactly. He didn’t exactly say that⏤”

  “Shut up!” she snapped.

  He fell silent, without taking his eyes off hers.

  She stared back at him for a few beats, then that anger rose back to her eyes.

  “So that’s it?” she said. “That’s all you’re going to say?”

  He frowned, not sure if he should try to answer that. Maybe she just needed someone to yell at, and he was there.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not sure what you want me to do right now⏤”

  But she was moving closer to him again, and Dags had to fight not to step back when he saw the anger blaze in her green and gold eyes. Even holding his ground, he unfolded his arms, his muscles tensing in instinct after they fell to his sides.

  Mostly, he was bracing himself.

  For the same reason, he wasn’t particularly surprised when she reached him, and immediately smacked him on the chest with the flat of her hand.

  It didn’t really hurt.

  Truthfully, it didn’t hurt at all, even with the bruises from his fight in the alley, all of which she managed to miss. That could be why he didn’t move. It didn’t feel like she was trying to hurt him, so maybe that was part of it. He felt more frustration behind it than anger, so in the end, all it really did was confuse him.

  He stood there, tensed from the blow.

  He half-expected her to hit him again.

  She didn’t, though.

  She stepped back, panting.

  Glaring up at him, she seemed to be waiting for him to react, to say something, maybe just to express indignation or surprise, but he wasn’t sure how to do that, either. When she approached him the second time, he did take a half-step back, holding up a hand, maybe in a silent request for her to take it easy.

  That time, she didn’t hit him.

  Walking up to him, she reached up, gripping his hair in her fingers…

  …and brought his mouth down to hers.

  She kissed him.

  Dags found himself kissing her back.

  He didn’t think. He reacted solely to her mouth on his before he’d given himself even so much as a half-second to think about what he was doing, or what a really bad idea this was.

  Then again, he didn’t react logically to her, period.

  It went beyond his usual awkwardness with people. With her, he had no idea what he was doing at all, not even well enough to understand his own reactions.

  Even with this. Even with something as basic as this.

  He still didn’t react remotely like he thought he would.

  For that matter, neither did she.

  Her mouth softened as soon as it met his. Her fingers tightened in his hair, then slowly loosened, sliding down to wrap lightly around the back of his neck. She seemed to soften all over, the opposite of what he would have thought, what he’d felt off her, even a few seconds before. She leaned into his chest, and he could have sworn he felt relief on her when he kissed her back, like some part of her had been waiting for him to push her away.

  He didn’t push her away.

  Instead of giving him the space to stop this, to politely pull back, her putting the whole thing in his hands did the exact opposite.

  Dags’ mind, body, everything about him, stepped into that void instead.

  His arm wrapped roughly around her waist. He yanked her up against him without thought, and she gasped, softening more when he pressed int
o her with the length of his body. His other arm curled up and across her back, pulling her in even closer, right before he buried his fingers in her wet hair, clenching it in his hand.

  Before he could stop himself, he let out a low sound, pressing his face into hers without pulling away from where he held her.

  If anything, he tightened his arms more.

  She softened where he held her, which only made it worse.

  Then she was kissing his throat, caressing his hair at the base of his neck, using her tongue in maddening circles, sucking on his skin.

  He found himself following her lead, kissing her face, the line of her jaw, her throat. Then he was back to kissing her mouth, slower that time, forcing her slower too, forcing her to follow him. A few seconds later, it was her who let out a soft sound, her fingers digging into the bare skin of his back under his shirt.

  When he used his tongue, she let out a full groan. He felt so much want on her now, he was struggling to keep from yanking open the robe.

  His mind started to lose cohesion.

  His cock hurt, his hands hurt, his tongue.

  He had no idea how long they stood there, kissing like that.

  Her skin was flushed by the time he was conscious of where he was again.

  His skin felt too hot, he was breathing too hard… then she was pulling on him, tugging on his arms, her fingers urgent, guiding him, and he followed her hands and feet without question, without pulling away from the kiss.

  He kissed her again, without loosening his hold on her back or waist…

  …and then both of them were on the bed.

  He found himself lying on her, and she let out another soft groan.

  The sound drove him fucking crazy.

  He kissed her again, and she coiled her legs around him, tightening them around his waist. He let out a heavier sound when her hands slid under the T-shirt he wore, then he shifted to his side, just enough to yank on the knot holding together the front of her terrycloth robe.

  “Wait,” she said, breathless. “Wait.”

  He stopped at once.

  It wasn’t easy, though.

  He had to consciously pull back.

  His forehead fell to her shoulder as he fought to calm down, aware of a raging fire in his chest, a pulsing lightning storm he’d barely noticed in all the time he’d been kissing her. It hit him he was barely holding it together. He was barely holding back that green-blue light that lived inside him. He’d clenched it around himself out of instinct, out of pure habit, but he felt it flaring under his skin, burning him, wanting him to let it go.

  “I can’t,” he gasped, not sure who he was talking to, if it was himself, or the light.

  Or her.

  “God. I can’t⏤”

  “You can’t what?” she murmured, stroking his hair, growing soft again under his hands. “What can’t you do?”

  They kissed again, and he forgot the light.

  He forgot it even more when she slid her hand down him, past his belt, between his legs, massaging his cock.

  After about a minute of that, he felt like he was going to black out.

  “Christ… stop. You better stop.” He caught her hand, letting out another groan. “Stop. Unless you want to fuck for real… you better stop.”

  She hesitated, as if his words startled her.

  Then, after the barest delay, her skin flushed.

  It grew hot around him, as if she was thinking about what he’d said.

  Maybe imagining it, like he was.

  “I want to,” he said, murmuring the words in her ear. Her tongue swiped hotly in his, and he let out a low gasp. “I want to. But we can’t, Phoenix⏤”

  He fell silent when she started massaging him again, his mind going utterly blank. He let out a half-groan a few seconds later, pulling her hand off his cock by the wrist, pinning it to the bed. He kissed her again, a shorter kiss that time, but ended it with just as much difficulty.

  “This is a terrible idea,” he murmured, pressing his face to hers. “This is a terrible, terrible idea. You know that, right?”

  His mind glazed over again when she tightened her legs around him.

  She lowered her hand and arm when he kissed her again.

  Then she was yanking on his belt, unhooking the clasp, and he let out another involuntary groan. He felt himself starting to surrender, losing any will to fight this, even as the part of him resisting grew confused.

  That part was losing, badly.

  He knew it; he just couldn’t bring himself to care.

  Truthfully, he couldn’t comprehend why that part existed at all.

  Why the fuck would he be fighting this?

  He’d wanted her since he first laid eyes on her in that jacuzzi.

  She started kissing him again, her lips and tongue gently sucking at his throat, and his mind fuzzed out, going blank.

  He looked down at her face, and that blue-green light flared in his chest. The light burned hotter, hurting him now, but it only made that longing worse, made his cock ache more. He didn’t look away from her eyes, watching her react to whatever she saw in his.

  He still couldn’t see her aura.

  God, it was maddening now.

  It was maddening, not being able to see her.

  He looked for it, for any wisp of light on her, even as he studied her face.

  He was half-lying on her again, and when she went back to working on his belt, he leaned his weight into her, mostly to watch her eyes change.

  Gasping, she closed them, pausing with his belt to grip his arm.

  “Dags.”

  His name came out as a half-whimper, and he clenched his jaw.

  “Dags,” she said, softer. “Dags, what are we doing?”

  He heard fear in her voice that time and froze.

  She met his gaze, and he saw that fear in her eyes.

  “I heard you,” she said, clutching his arm tighter. “I know you don’t want to. I heard what you said. I’m just… ignoring it. I’m ignoring it, and I don’t know why. I don’t understand anything right now. I don’t understand who you are. I don’t understand who we are to each other. I’ve never reacted like this before… to anyone…”

  Studying her eyes, he leaned down, kissing her face.

  “I don’t understand either,” he admitted.

  “I know you don’t want to,” she said. “I’m sorry about this. I’m sorry⏤”

  He let out an involuntary laugh.

  He couldn’t help it.

  “Phoenix. Christ.” His voice turned gruff. “I want to. Trust me… I want to.” He pressed into her, his hand clenched in her hair as he watched her eyes. “I want to,” he repeated, his voice going deeper. “I really fucking want to. I just⏤”

  “HELLO?” A voice called up to the second-floor loft.

  Dags tensed.

  He turned his head, staring at the section of ceiling visible past the pony wall.

  “HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

  The voice was muffled.

  Male.

  It echoed up the two stories to the loft bedroom where they were, but Dags realized that, whoever it was, they were on the other side of the suite’s front door. They were outside the suite. The realization should have relaxed him, but it didn’t.

  “PHOENIX!” the man shouted. “ASIA! LET ME IN! I CAN’T GET YOU ON YOUR PHONES! I HAD THE MANAGER BRING ME UP!”

  Dags frowned, glancing down at Phoenix.

  She frowned back, but the look in her eyes was closer to a wince.

  “Karver,” she whispered. “It’s Karver. We have to let him in.”

  “Do we?” he muttered.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice firm, if reluctant. “We do.”

  Dags felt his jaw harden. “He might still be a danger to you.”

  “Well,” she said, exasperated. “He found us. Do you really want me to send him away? How am I supposed to explain that?”

  “How you explain it isn’t exactly my primary concern
⏤”

  “I think it’s okay. We both saw that thing leave him last night. Right?”

  Dags stared at her for a beat.

  He looked away, over the balcony, when Karver’s voice rose again.

  “PHOENIX! WAKE UP! I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!”

  Dags scowled.

  “Didn’t we tell the front desk not to let anyone up here?” he grumbled.

  She let out another exasperated sigh. “He’s a movie star, Dags. The usual rules don’t apply. And they all know I’m dating him. Did you really think they’d turn Karver Jamison away? What world do you live in?”

  Thinking about that, Dags only nodded.

  “Okay?” she said.

  He gave her a hard look. “What do you want me to say? It’s your call.”

  “Then say, ‘okay, Phoenix.’”

  He recited flatly, “Okay, Phoenix.”

  She frowned up at him, clearly annoyed.

  For a few seconds, they only stared at one another.

  Then, pressing her lips together, Phoenix looked away. Briefly, he saw that confusion in her face again, mixed with something that might have been hurt.

  Hell, he could practically feel that on her, too.

  She pushed on his chest, and Dags accommodated her, rolling to his side.

  He watched her climb up off the mattress, staring in spite of himself as she untied her robe, only to retie it more tightly around her naked body. His cock hurt, even after he forced his eyes away. He wondered if she had any idea she’d just flashed him, or if she was too flustered to realize what she’d done.

  She finished re-knotting the belt of the robe, then she was staring down at Dags, her expression hesitant, at a loss, like it had only just now sunk in what they’d done. She studied his face, worry in her eyes. He could almost see her thinking, trying to decide whether or not to say something to him.

  Or maybe what to say to him.

  Whatever it was, Dags wasn’t ready to hear it.

  He probably didn’t need to hear it at all.

  “Go answer it,” he said, nodding towards the stairs. “Don’t worry about me. I won’t say anything.”

  The worry in her eyes turned to confusion.

  Then to anger.

  “What?”

  “To your boyfriend,” Dags clarified, hitting the word a touch harder than necessary. “I won’t say anything to him. I won’t be cute about it. I won’t play games with either one of you. You don’t need to worry about me.”