by V L Moon
What had he done? What would the Creator achieve by inflicting such pain on a celestial as old and as powerful as Laziel? If truth be known, Laziel was probably just as dominant as the Creator himself. He’d lived almost as long, and if memory of their scripture was correct, Laziel was the first of the seraphim, and now he was the last. …
Denali had better get on board and show some love, Arial thought to himself and frowned, knowing Loz’s dainty form was most likely reading his mind. He didn’t care. The mere thought of what would become of Laziel if Malachi jumped ship was enough to break the hardest of hearts; Fallen or otherwise.
The celestial glow of angelic life beating within Laziel’s heart would slowly die out; wither away until all that was left was an empty dull husk. Once the Seraphim chose its mate, the shared power from their coupling strengthened them, forged an impenetrable shield that tied them together. Whereas, denying a celestial, especially one such as Laziel, who fed on the energy that love created, was a fate worse than death. Arial had heard stories of other angels, ones not of Laziel’s caliber who had sold their souls to Lucifer rather than suffer through the pain of a celestial broken heart.
“As the female once sang…Que Sera Sera, whatever will be will be,” Laziel’s voice sounded almost melodic, and Arial momentarily pushed aside the feeling of foreboding weighing him down.
“You seriously didn’t just quote Doris fucking Day of all people. Jesus Mary and Joseph, you’ll be singing Surrey with the Fringe on Top to me next,” Arial teased.
“Oh, you know that one do you? I could just imagine you acting out Curly for me. Want to duet?” Lorenza’s eyes held so much mischief it was easy to believe things would turn out for the best. But, Arial wasn’t so young or so foolish anymore.
He forced a smile as he gently lifted Loz and placed her petite frame back on the chaise lounge. He needed to leave, but the thought of leaving Laziel alone filled Arial with dread. Dainty fingers caught his hand and gripped his fingers tight.
“Let fate lead the way, Arial. One day at a time. Just look after Lachi for me. Please. Keep that arrogant fucker from hurting himself, and if you do bang heads again. Play nice.” Laziel’s tone although playful still held a hint of warning.
“I swore an oath, remember, one where I pledged my allegiance to him,” Arial stated. “But, nowhere in that oath did it state your creation could attempt to rip my damn throat out, or drink my blood. I could have fucking killed him with the toxins running through my veins. Its pure evil, the very filth of Lucifer’s demon spawn, and he had it in his mouth. Creator save me, Laziel he had that shit in his god damned stupid mouth. I saw the look on his face and it wasn’t good.”
Arial shook his head. “He tries that shit with me one more time, and I’ll knock that superior son of a bitch right onto his regal arrogant ass, oath or no oath. I won’t be responsible for poisoning the very thing I promised to protect.” Shame contorted Arial’s face.
As much as he tried to hide it, the indignity he felt toward his curse threatened to consume him. His chest went tight, and the tattered remains of his once glorious wings drooped. The visual reminder slammed into Arial, robbing him of breath and buckling his knees until his powerful, towering frame played the horizontal tango with the hard wooden floor.
The gates of Hell rose up before him, a fortification crafted from sanctified oak blessed and then sealed shut by the Creator himself. The enormous carved structure depicted the scene of the great Holy War between Heaven and Hell. The looming structure closed together, forming the archaic return of the last mighty Seraphim with his immense wings spread wide and his features grim.
With hesitant reverence, Arial reached out to trace the intricate design of the warrior’s wings. A look of awe showed on his younger celestial face. Every angel knew the history of their heritage along with the vast array of knowledge taught to them from birth.
But for Arial, nothing inspired him as much as the tales told by the archangels regarding the celestial granted leave to walk among the human world. His skill upon the battlefields of Hell was legendary as were the tales of his abilities. No one knew for sure if the stories were true, but Arial, along with every other young angel, thrived on them, wanted to be just like the magnificent image carved out before him. So lifelike and so real. One day Arial prayed he’d be big enough and strong enough to be just like Laziel, maybe even stand alongside him if the threat of evil dwelling on the opposite side of those great oak doors grew strong enough to tip the balance of fate.
A cold shiver prickled over Arial’s scalp and stiffened the arc of his celestial wings. The shock that followed sent a jolt of terror running through him. Arial gasped as his strength drained away. It felt as though the very life of him was being drawn away from his soul. He couldn’t breathe. He wanted to fall or run, get as far away from whatever the dark and deadly force was that held him so easily in place.
Something inside of him forced his gaze up toward the grim features of the Seraphim, Laziel and those magnificent wings coated in the ashes of his kin. The weight of his burden coupled with the sorrow of his loss hadn’t weakened him. He’d stood tall in the face of adversity and become stronger from it He gained power from the celestial souls he’d carried through the fires of Hell so they could find peace within the sanctity of the Creator’s Heavenly resting place. The feeling of dread abated like a tidal wave rolling back out to sea. But, it didn’t go quietly. It crawled over Arial’s flesh, taunting him, awakening his body by hardening it, making him feel the promise of pleasure from its sinful caress.
Arial backed away, his eyes wide with the knowledge of what had touched him; trapped him so easily within the web of its erotic allure. Evil—sinful, contradictory to all that Arial stood for as an angel. It emanated from behind the great carved doors in waves of tantalizing euphoria. For the weak, it promised carnal fulfillment, sexual titillation and the deliverance of the joy found in iniquity.
Arial fought against the tide of Lucifer’s toxic wickedness and trained his sights upon the form of Laziel’s glorious form. He would not fall, would never give in to the malevolent presence that taunted his mind. He was strong.
Turning his back on the gates of Hell, Arial pictured Laziel’s wrath, his eminent fury and used the light of his celestial strength to gather his own power to take the necessary steps and walk away from Hell’s temptation. He wasn’t to know that in those few seconds where evil had grasped him; his fate had been decided. It had tasted the essence of Arial’s fear, and unbeknownst to the young celestial, it wasn’t going to stop until it triumphed over good and took Arial’s wings.
The hand may have been small, but the force of its connection with Arial’s face amounted to a full blown explosion. Stars danced in his eyes, and Arial was fucking sure if he opened them he’d see little yellow Tweety birds circling his head.
“Fuck me,” he ground out, steadying himself with his hands as he sat up on the hard wooden floor.
“I’m not in the position to take you up on that motherfucker.” Laziel’s voiced, and barked out a laugh. Arial flipped him the one finger salute. “Ooh, does that mean fuck you, or that you can actually count?” More laughter ensued.
Arial peeled back his eyelids to see Lorenza sitting on the edge of the chaise lounge with a strange, smug grin splitting a very beautiful face.
“Such blasphemy out of such a sweet ‘purdy’ mouth; I can’t believe you’re actually an angel at times,” Arial replied, pulling himself to his feet and poorly attempting to look casual as he plumped the mound of pillows used to support Loz’s back.
“Awe, anyone ever tell you, you make a cute nurse maid. Ever thought of changing you name to Florence? Maybe, we could get you one of those uniforms and a stethoscope.” More laughter.
Instead of replying, Arial bit back the curt reply on the tip of his tongue. He’d never win against Laziel when it came to a smart mouth. The only time the fucker was ever silent was when he was crunching on apple Jolly Ranchers or slipping som
ething hot down his throat, and it wasn’t bloody tea either.
“You better not go there, big boy. What I choose to put in my mouth, ain’t got shit to do with you, unless of course you’re more curious than you’ve led us to believe. If not, I suggest you get that mind of yours out of the God damned gutter before you lose any chance of redeeming yourself.” Laziel quipped.
Arial winced at Laziel’s intrusion into his thoughts. “You really need to learn some manners and stay the fuck out of other people’s heads. How’d you like it if I took a rummage around that deluded mind of yours and plucked at the memories that even you hide from every day?”
“You could try, but then, we both know you wouldn’t dare.” Laziel’s voice shot back. Arial shook his head. He wasn’t in the mood to have a mudslinging match with his only celestial friend. The wound on his throat was pissing him off, and he felt as though the walls of their hideout were closing in on him. He wouldn’t acknowledge it, but Arial was worried.
Malachi had torn into his throat, and Arial was sure the vampire must have swallowed some of the crud that swam through his veins. It didn’t help that the memory of Malachi’s face, twisted with revulsion, still lingered in his mind. The obvious disgust had pained Arial more than he cared to admit.
The curse handed down to him by his mother’s hand was his burden to bear. There was no way he’d choose to impose his affliction on another, especially the King. The only one befitting of such an act was the demon that had lured him into depravity and robbed Arial of everything he’s once held sacred.
“Ones man’s poison is another man’s cure my friend. Don’t be so quick to condemn yourself. Fate has a funny way of throwing you a curve ball when you least expect it, don’t you think?” Arial turned his face a mask of obvious pain. He wanted to yell, vent his fury at Laziel’s choice of words. But how could he? The angel was right. Laying there, a victim of that same curve ball and yearning for the touch of his vampire male, Laziel now suffered along with Arial.
“Remember what I told you brother, I have a funny feeling those words I just said might just come back to bite you on that fat old ass. Now sit down and take a load off, I think we’re in for the long haul.” Without hesitation, Arial solemnly did as he was told and took a seat on the small chaise lounge. He sighed in resignation when Loz used his lap as a pillow and placed Arial’s hand gently over her growing bump. Given the choice, Arial thought, as he watched Loz drift off to sleep, he wouldn’t want to be anywhere but right there, acting as the protector for the vampire’s angel and the child whose birth would signify the birth of a brand new race.
~*~*~*~
Chapter Twenty-Nine
~*~*~*~
Consciousness returned slowly and with it came a multitude of minor aches and discomforts vying for attention. Malachi cracked and blinked bleary, dry eyes until his surroundings came into dim focus. Broken benches and crumbled rock some of which littered the ground where he lay. Laziel’s chapel. With a groan, he placed both hands on the floor and shoved to a sitting position. Absently, he scraped the rock shards and splinters from his palms while eyeballing the room.
Since the dusk he’d awakened to the angel’s tears scattered through their chamber, he’d slept in the small sanctuary. Too many memories bombarded him when he entered their rooms. Everywhere he looked he saw Laziel; draped over a chair in front of the fireplace, bare feet bouncing to the music in his head; stretched out on the bed wearing a wicked grin and nothing else, naked and wet in the shower. Malachi scrubbed a hand over his face and sucked in a deep breath. Major mistake.
The angel’s scent triggered his hunger and spiked his adrenaline. His stomach rumbled in agitation. It probably thought his throat had been slit, or his fangs removed. He refused to hunt; he only wanted Laziel’s blood. In the back of his mind, he nursed a fervent hope that the angel would sense his hunger and return. So far, no response and the hunger grew with every sleep. The months without feeding were slowly weakening him. Every dawn, the Sole Dormire dragged him into forced slumber and the sun’s kiss veered into dangerous territory. He glanced down to where his hands lay limp in his lap. The charred skin glared back at him. He definitely had to be in before sunrise the next morning.
Another loud rumble echoed from his gut. If the angel didn’t return soon, he’d have to find another blood source. The image of Arial’s ripped to shit throat rose in his mind. He couldn’t wait very much longer. To appease the monster gnawing at his innards, he dug in his pocket and pulled out the green candy. The apple Jolly Rancher puckered his lips and he grimaced. Definitely not the angel’s blood, but the flavor was familiar. He shoved to his feet and kicked his way through the debris to the door.
Out in the lower tunnels, sounds from above drifted to his ears. The everyday hustle and bustle of moving feet was overlaid by too cheerful Christmas music. Malachi barely contained the sneer. Although traditionally a human holiday, the vampires joined their turned brethren and the few trusted human members of the staff and guard in the holiday celebration.
It was one of the angel’s favorite holidays. Malachi clamped down on that thought and shoved it aside. If he hadn’t promised Ms. Stroner he’d make an appearance at the Council sponsored Christmas party, he’d skip the entire event. One saving grace, he hadn’t said when he’d arrive. He skirted the hallways leading above and after a quick side trip to shower and change; he ported to the surface and headed out into the night.
~*~*~*~
The mental and emotional turmoil plaguing Laziel refused to allow his female form any semblance of rest. The months away from Lachi passed far too slowly. Laziel had grown quieter with each passing day, hoping to ensure some peace for the child growing bigger by the day. Lachi’s child.
The mere thought of his vampire’s name speared Laziel’s heart and inflicted pain far greater than any physical torture Darklon had inflicted. Stoically, Laziel tried to absorb the brunt of the agony to spare Lorenza and the unborn young. He wanted to go home, to feel Lachi’s arms around him and to eradicate the seeds of doubt Darklon planted in his fertile psyche. Of all places, why had he taken Laziel to Bourne’s fucking house?
With their belly heavily rounded, Laziel surrendered to the fact he was obligated to remain as Loz. But, oh, how he wanted to change and return to Lachi’s side. The sacrifice was made harder to bear given the male Laziel pined for was going through Hell. Agitated, Laziel forced Loz’s well-rounded form up from the couch to pace the small room. It felt more like a prison cell with each passing day and it was getting harder to hide his despondency. Even Arial’s stoic silence aggravated him. His distemper had reached the point where Arial gave the place a wide birth. The Fallen preferred to take his rest outside rather than get yelled at or become the victim of Laziel’s smart mouth.
Beads of sweat peppered Loz’s frowning brow. As hard as Laziel’s feminine side tried to ride the storm of his torrid emotional outburst, nothing abated the rampant need to see him, to feel the heat of Malachi’s breath dance across his lips before he succumbed to the oh so familiar taste of his much needed kiss.
A lethargic groan slipped from between feminine lips as the life inside Loz flexed and kicked. The young one grew stronger every day. It took everything it needed from the well of light sustaining Laziel’s soul. As long as Laziel was bound to Lachi, the light inside of him would never be allowed to die. His only wished, as the anniversary of the Creator’s birth dawned, he could touch Malachi He longed to hear the gravel rough growl of Lachi’s voice as he strained, teeth clenched and the corded muscles in his neck pulled tight as he fought his release, needing, wanting Laziel to find his fulfillment first and cover him in the scent of celestial seed. Humans celebrated with the exchange of gifts, but to Laziel, having Lachi was the greatest gift of all.
As much as he’d promised himself not to, Laziel lowered the veil between them. He needed to see, needed to know how Lachi fared. It had been months since he’d last projected from Loz, and the pull to see Lachi was monumental.
The life they’d created together was strong, and Loz would be able to sustain it, if only long enough for Laziel to see his face. Just a few precious seconds so he could assure Lachi he was there, watching over him and missing him so badly it was tearing a hole in his chest so wide he feared nothing could fill it. Except Lachi.
He wanted to show his vampire the strength of those three small words and that they weren’t as terrifying as Lachi feared. If his vampire could just open up, allow himself to accept the depth of feeling Laziel harbored inside for him, their separation and the news of their imminent young…
The fear of rejection halted Laziel’s thoughts. He couldn’t go there. The fear of Lachi rejecting him—them—filled him with dread. Unable to manifest his male form, the best Laziel could do was project the essence of his celestial spirit. Beneath him, Loz stilled. Her physical body went quiet as Laziel poured his light into the young. He didn’t have long. Throwing his ethereal form into the ether, Laziel projected one solitary thought and transfixed his mind on the tie that bound him to the vampires’ king.
~*~*~*~
Hours later, Malachi sprawled in his oversized desk chair. His leather clad legs stretched out before him. The combined scents of blood and sweat clung to his skin, but after finding a nest of Nephilim and sending them back to the Creator, the tension tightening his shoulders had eased enough for him to return to the enclave. He’d interacted, albeit briefly, with the gathered members of his race before escaping to the solitude of his office.
His hunger clawed at him, unabated by the release of energy. In an effort to distract himself, he’d spread out the scroll, taken from Laziel’s altar, over the top of his desk. The words, forged in a language unknown to him, paraded across the linen parchment and were totally incomprehensible.
