by Rick Hautala
“Everything else is secure?” Samael finally said.
“As good as I can make it,” Michael replied.
“Then it’s better than secure.”
Finally, a look of pure relief—the first she had seen since they reconnected—came over Samael’s face. He smiled when he said, “Well, then, what say we go back into the house and refresh ourselves. It’s been a helluva day.
And, I suspect, it’s going to be a helluva night.”
At that moment, Claire had no idea what an understatement that was.
~ * ~
Claire was feeling way out of her depth as she sat with Samael and Michael in the living room. They talked until the sun had set. Then, the spacious room filled with soft, gray arms of shadows stretched across the plush carpet. Even in the waning light, she couldn’t stop herself from looking at Michael’s eyes. They shined even more as the room grew dark, and she knew without asking that he could see as clearly in the darkness as he could in the daylight.
She also sensed that whenever he looked at her, even if for only a flashing instant, Michael could see clear into her heart and know what she was thinking and feeling. She knew without being told that he understood her in ways that even she didn’t.
How can I not be afraid? She thought.
This spiritual being…this angel—because she knew that’s what he was—was frightening in spite of his silver aura. She chuckled to herself, remembering a time when, in confirmation class, she had asked her Sunday School teacher, Mrs. Carmody, about angels. While reading the Bible, she had noticed that in every or nearly every instance, when an angel first appeared to a human being, he—it always seemed to be a male even though most paintings of angels depicted them as female—said, “Be not afraid,” or words to that effect. She had asked Mrs. Carmody why an angel would say something like that, and she concluded at a young age that angels must be terrifying beings to behold.
And now she knew.
They were.
But—somehow—not in a bad way.
Here she was, sitting in a darkening living room with a demon who professed to love her and wanted to reclaim his angelic nature, and an honest-to-God (pardon the phrase) angel.
It was surreal, to say the least.
She tried to focus on the conversation Samael and Michael were having, but it seemed as though they spoke in code, at times, or else used an entirely different and incomprehensible language. Maybe she was still exhausted from her ordeal in the woods overnight and the terrors of the bus ride back to Portland. But much of the conversation passed way over her head.
Long after the room was too dark for her to see more than vague shadows—and no one made a move to turn on the lights—she sat on the couch, her hand clasped by Samael’s so tightly it grew slick with sweat. But she didn’t take it away. She wanted—she needed—the reassurance of physical contact to ground her in a reality that seemed to be slipping away rapidly. She rested her head against Samael’s shoulder.
Their voices—especially Michael’s—were amazingly soothing. Warm, rich, and mellow. She felt so comfortable she started to doze off. As she floated in and out of hazy half-dreams, she felt a safety and security she had never known before.
He really will take care of me…They both will…
And then—is this still part of the dream?—Samael kissed her lightly on the cheek.
“Claire…Com’on, Claire…It’s time to wake up and go to sleep.”
She floated back to consciousness slowly…begrudgingly
…hating to leave her warm, safe hiding place.
“Mmnn,” she said, licking her lips and tasting something sour in her mouth.
“It’s late,” Samael said. “Almost midnight.”
“What?”
“I don’t blame you for falling asleep,” Samael said mildly. “You had a Hell of a day, and Michael and I had a lot to catch up on.”
“I can imagine,” Claire said, thinking vaguely that the two of them had probably known each other for millennia. She wanted to ask him more about Michael, but she sensed that Samael wanted to keep their discussion private.
Which was just as well.
The more she knew, the more she would worry. And in a way, she also knew that much of it was beyond human understanding.
“How about we go to bed?”
She was feeling none too steady on her feet, so Samael helped her keep her balance. She let him take her by the arm and guide her up the stairs to the bedroom. Without bothering to undress, she collapsed face-first onto the bed and was out like a light within seconds.
~ * ~
It was still dark when Claire awoke with a start and realized Samael’s tail was wrapped around her protectively. When she opened her eyes and looked at him, she was not surprised to find him looking back at her. The lamp on the bedside table was on, and he had the most gorgeous smile, but his eyes bothered her. They glinted like chips of black ice, the gold flecks barely visible. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was the lighting in the bedroom or if his eyes were…changing, for some reason.
“Hey there,” she said sleepily.
“Hey there, yourself.”
His tail tightened around her, and she considered getting something started to pleasure both herself and him, but it somehow didn’t seem appropriate…not now, anyway, considering everything that had gone on over the last twenty-four or so hours.
Plus, there was an angel in the house.
“How’d you sleep?” she asked, only to make conversation. She snuggled up closer to him, relishing his warmth.
“All right, I guess,” Samael replied. “Well enough. How about you?”
“Like a rock.”
He released his tail and gently played the tip of it over the curves of her body, finally burrowing it in between her legs.
“Are you sure it’s okay?” she asked.
“Damn! It’s more than okay.”
Without any more urging, Claire began to run her hand up and down the length of the shaft. She shifted her other hand to his chest and started running it across the ridges of his stomach muscles. It felt as hard and flat as an old-fashioned washboard.
“Let me make you feel good,” he whispered as she shifted onto her side and then lay on her back. She slipped off her jeans and panties and kicked them to the foot of the bed. Samael’s tail seemed to take on a life of its own, darting forward like a striking snake and plunging into her without warning.
Claire bucked on the bed and let out a surprised shriek, but then she collapsed back onto the mattress and lost all sense of who was doing what to whom. All she knew was that—once again…as always—Samael was taking her to new levels of physical and emotional pleasure.
Maybe an hour later, as the sky lightened with a predawn glow, after she was absolutely satiated, she collapsed onto the bed. Her head nestled in the well of his armpit like a bird’s egg in a nest. An oily sheen of sweat covered her skin, and she was breathing in slow, irregular breaths as mild aftershocks rippled through her.
“Happy?” Samael asked.
He was lying on his side, his head propped up on his left hand as he smiled down at her. His right hand was sliding up and down her sides, pausing with every upward stroke to caress her breasts. Every now and then, he’d lean forward and nuzzle his face into the fiery cascade of her hair.
“Umm…Yes,” she said, more gasp than words.
Samael chuckled softly.
“What?” she said, knowing even as she asked that he wouldn’t tell her anything he didn’t want her to know.
“Oh, nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” she said. But after spending time with him, she knew Samael didn’t yield his secrets easily.
He shifted around and raised himself so he was arched over her, his hands planted onto the mattress on both sides, trapping her where she lay.
“Seriously, what?” she asked again, her voice rising. She felt an element of danger in his position. He was panting, his breath warm and m
oist on her face.
She looked up at him. His head and shoulders, framed by the blank gauzy gray of the bedroom ceiling, looked immense…like a statue, about to come crashing down on top of her.
Samael smiled as he gazed down at her, his eyes glowing unnaturally.
Even in this light, the gold flecks weren’t as apparent. She wondered if she should mention it to him—ask him what was going on—but decided not to. She could still see nothing but love reflected in his eyes, darkening as they were.
“I wanted to ask you something,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“I was going to ask if you wanted to get married today.”
Claire was taken aback, and she wondered if she had heard him correctly. Her mouth dropped open, and Samael chuckled as he put a finger on her chin and to close it.
“Wha—what did you say?”
“I asked if you wanted to get married today. It’s a simple enough question.”
His smile lit up the bedroom, and hearing him ask twice finally convinced her that she hadn’t imagined it the first time.
“Married…”
“Not right away. We can take our time. Take showers and have something to eat,” Samael went on. “But I figured since Michael’s here, he can stand in as my best man. And you can ask your roommate…Or someone else, if you want. But—yes. I think we should do it. Today. This morning…or afternoon at the latest. I mean, why not?”
“Why not?” Claire echoed, and then she snorted. “You make it all sound so romantic ‘Why not?’” Sliding one hand out from under him, she swatted him on the shoulder. “Why not say ‘because I love you madly, and I want to marry you?’ God. You can make anything sound like a…like a business transaction.”
“I don’t mean to.” He actually looked chastised. “I’m new at this, you know, but I do know that I want you by my side. How’s that?”
Samael’s face lit up with the most amazing smile, his gold-flecked eyes gleaming. Then he slowly lowered his head until their lips were less than an inch apart. His breath was hot on her face, and she detected a not-unpleasant hint of fruitwood smoke when she inhaled.
“Because I do love you,” he said. “And I’m willing to risk everything…and I mean everything—even my own existence—to prove how much I love you.”
As much as she tried to stop them, now tears did fill Claire’s eyes. She wondered why, ever since she had first met Samael, she had been crying so much more. She had always considered herself a fairly tough woman. Not unemotional—but she certainly thought she had her emotions under control.
But not anymore…Not with this guy…
“I love you with all my heart,” she said, her voice hitching as tears streamed down both sides of her face. “And I want you always. Don’t ever leave me, Samael.”
“Trust me. I won’t.”
She shifted around so she could reach up and embrace him, and as she drew him down on top of her, his weight pressed her into the mattress so hard it was difficult to breathe deeply.
But it doesn’t matter…Let me die right here…
This was the moment…the moment she had dreamt about and wished for all her life and, as she grew older, began to think might never actually come. But here it was. She now knew, beyond any and all doubt, that this man—no, not a man. A demon truly loved her…and she loved him.
Although she hadn’t answered him directly—not yet, anyway—she knew that he already knew her answer. They kissed, long and hard, his double-tipped tongue slipping into her mouth like a living thing and whisking around, sending sparkling thrills all through her body. When they finally broke off the kiss, she was still gazing at him. Tears still clouded her sight, but she took a tiny sip of a breath and said, “Yes…Yes…Yes. Let’s get married today. As soon as we can.”
Samael’s mouth split into a wide grin that exposed his wide, flat teeth. No matter what he said or did, he still had a dangerous edge to him, but she figured now that she would simply have to get used to it.
Just part of his charm, I guess…
“Fantastic!” he shouted as he pushed himself up and off the bed. He jumped up and down a few times, looking like a kid on Christmas morning, and then he did a little shuffling dance step as he turned and started for the bathroom. Claire couldn’t help but laugh, seeing his tail sketch wild figure eights in the air. Before he closed the door, he shouted joyously, “Married! I’m actually getting married! Who’d a ‘thunk it!”
What a piece of work he is, she thought.
For the first time in…she couldn’t remember when…she smiled so hard her cheeks ached.
Chapter
13
To Have and to Hold
The next couple of hours passed by in a blur.
It annoyed Claire that she hadn’t had time to plan…well, pretty much anything.
Even when she called Sally to ask her to be her bridesmaid, Sally was at work and said she couldn’t just up and leave for the day. It took quite a bit to convince her. Claire insisted, time and again, that she could meet her back at the apartment and help her get ready. Finally, Sally said that wasn’t necessary and promised she’d meet them at City Hall at eleven o’clock.
Claire had her doubts, but she had no Plan B.
That barely gave her time to pick out a dress, buy some flowers, fix her hair, and put on her makeup. It didn’t seem fair that all Samael had to do after he showered was blow-dry his hair and put on one of the scores of expensive suits he had hanging in his closet. Claire’s clothing options were limited because she didn’t have any dresses she thought were acceptable for her wedding day, rushed though it was. She certainly didn’t have time to go buy something new.
After rummaging around in her closet for over an hour, pulling out and trying on dress after dress, she was about to tell Samael that she wanted to postpone getting married at least a day to give herself time to plan. She hadn’t even called her parents to tell them yet and, as it turned out, her parents hadn’t met Samael…at least not the real Samael.
“You about ready?” Samael called from somewhere downstairs when Claire was in the bathroom, putting on her makeup.
“Can you give me…I dunno…maybe a week or two?”
She frowned at her reflection in the mirror. She had always imagined she’d wear a white gown with a train and veil to her wedding, not a cream-colored sweater dress and high-heeled suede boots. In a gesture to Samael, she left her hair loose, the way he liked it.
A wave of tangled emotion swept through her—a curious mixture of sadness and frustration…of nervousness and indescribable joy. She wished she had someone—a closer-than-close friend she could talk to about it, but in truth, she didn’t have many—any?—close friends.
Of course, she felt close to Samael. She loved him and wanted to spend the rest of her life—
My mortal life.
—with him. And she wanted to do anything and everything she could to help him regain his angelic nature. But that presented situations and problems she couldn’t begin to comprehend much less deal with right now.
“What the Hell am I doing?” she asked her reflection as she leaned close enough to the mirror to fog the glass with her breath. She stared into her own eyes, wondering, And who the Hell are you?
She jumped when footsteps sounded on the stairs, and she forced herself to smile as she turned to face the bathroom door. She was mildly surprised when she saw Michael, not Samael, in the doorway. He was wearing a white suit. His shirt and tie—even his shoes, were white, but nothing was whiter than his shoulder-length hair. The only color—if you can call black a color—were the silver sunglasses perched on the top of his head. His silver eyes were dazzling, and Claire realized he couldn’t go out in public and let everyone see his eyes.
“Have you got a minute?” Michael asked.
His voice was amazingly calm and soothing; it cut through the emotions tangled up inside her.
“Yeah…Sure … What’s up?”
�
�I would like to tell you that you are, in all likelihood, not in any danger, and that I appreciate everything you are doing—the effort you’re putting out to help Samael. I admire the love you have for him. It’s more important than, I think, even Samael realizes.”
Claire had no idea what to say to that.
What can you possibly say to an angel who, essentially, is giving you his blessing to marry a demon?
Too weird!
“I’ve known Samael for…a very long time.”
How long? Claire wanted to ask but didn’t. Something told her that even “time” for beings like Samael and Michael wasn’t the same as it was for people…mortals like her.
“And in all that time, I have yearned and prayed for him to renounce his evil ways.”
“How…how evil is…or was he?”
The corners of Michael’s mouth twitched into a tight smile as he shook his head.
“That’s not the point,” he said softly.
“Oh,” Claire said, flummoxed for a moment. “So what is the point?”
She didn’t like that she let her impatience show, but heavenly being or not, he had to understand that she was under a lot of stress here, getting ready to get married.
“The point is simple.” Michael’s smile widened, and Claire could feel the peace and warmth radiating from him. “I am happy for you and him, and I hope this marriage is a blessing to you both.”
“Thank you,” Claire said with an involuntary bow.
How -DO you talk to an angel?…What are the rules?
She had to avert her gaze because he shone with a light that wasn’t just the reflection of the fluorescent light on his clothes and hair. The glow was coming from inside him—a pulsating radiance that filled her with a deep, indescribable peace.
“I realize you have a lot to do to prepare,” Michael said, “so I’ll leave you alone for now.” He turned to leave but then stopped and, looking back at Claire, extended his right hand, palm-out to her, and said, “Blessings unto you,” and then he was gone.
