Wicked Fire: Angel Fire, book 2

by Johnston, Marie

  She wanted to try. Oh, she wanted to.

  He was soaping her feet. The water ran at the perfect temperature, like it always did in Numen. An endless supply that was there when they needed it, like the sky or the grass. Effortless, like living in Numen should be. Which wouldn’t be the case for her.

  He looped the cloth over a shower ledge. “Want me to stop?”

  She was plastered against the wall, panting. Did she look ready to stop? His erection jutted up from his squat.

  “The date’s not over yet,” she breathed.

  His face went molten and she questioned her no-penetration resolve. Because right now she wanted him inside her. All over her.

  Just touch me already!

  He rose, his heat lifting with him. Crowding her into the wall, he rested his arm alongside her head.

  This was so different than the last time they’d slept together. This was purposeful. Vivid. Light reflected off the stone walls, making the bathroom the brightest place in the house. Or maybe it just felt that way. Like she was bared in every way before him.

  Maybe this thing between them was strong enough to weather the years. The decades. The centuries.

  He lowered himself in one smooth motion. His knees rested on the floor of the shower and he skimmed his hands up her legs. He held her gaze as he parted her thighs and slowly moved in. When his mouth opened she had to tear her gaze away. It was too much, watching him do this to her.

  She cried out when his tongue hit her clit, curling her fingers into his hair. This new connection made anything that had happened between them before seem pale, watered down. Nothing but sensation rolled through her body now. Warm water hitting her skin, cool tile pressing against her back, and ecstasy spreading through her body from where his tongue lapped at her. Her climax didn’t have a chance. She exploded against his mouth, crying his name—both of them. She alternated between Julian and Jagger, her mind blending the uptight warrior she’d once offended with the moody male she’d lived with for the past three months. He was one, and he was hers—if she wanted him.

  Prowling up her body, he stopped to lick each nipple and nibble his way up her neck.

  Her body quivered for him, demanding more. Getting off in the shower with him wasn’t enough. She wanted it all, she wanted him.

  Why couldn’t she have him? The answer her brain summoned sounded faint, like looking down a tunnel at the tiny pinprick of a train coming from miles away. Her reasoning didn’t make sense.

  She lifted one leg to wrap around his waist, but he anchored a hand on her hip.

  “I swore I wouldn’t go any farther.”

  His words had the same effect as a bucket of cold water.

  She gave him a shaky nod. “Right. Great.”

  He twined his arms around her and she dropped her leg. “We’ll get there. I have faith in us.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder and let the water beat down on them both. She had no doubt they would get there. Her real concern was whether or not they could stay there.

  * * *

  “Open up, you worthless piece of shit.” The gurgle made it hard to understand Gerzon’s words.

  Dammit. Sandeen thought he’d had more time, but if Gerzon was banging on his door, it was too late. Which humans could he possess on the fly? His last host had found God in a major way. The guy barely left church now. Sandeen hadn’t been that bad to him, but apparently getting his soul hijacked had been a hell of a wake-up call.

  There was the nineteen-year-old. He shuddered. No one could pay him to inhabit a teenager again. The questions. The uncertainty. The bold hubris of knowing just enough to make it dangerous. It didn’t help that Sandeen had overstayed his welcome and experienced a hell of a hangover after the frat party the night before. And he’d been in jail.

  He’d just used the kid as a vessel to ride around the human realm and spy on the angels roaming about. Few sensed him. He was that powerful of an archmaster.

  But the raging idiot on the other side of the door didn’t think so. And that would be his own downfall. Sandeen wasn’t going to stick around to watch. He had his own plans and they included walking around the human realm in his own form and experiencing freedom for the first time in his life.

  His deal with Jameson Haddock was done and he had several vials of fallen blood to show for it. He just had to get in touch with his informant and see what else he could use the fallen for.

  His door rattled. If he hadn’t had such a bastard of a father, the door would’ve shaken off its hinges. But he’d replaced and repaired the wood planks and frame enough that it was now the strongest door in the whole putrid realm.

  “Open this hell-forsaken door, you worthless whelp of a sylph whore.”

  One would think that demons would have more inventive cuss words. He took a fortifying breath. He’d have to get out of the house before he could cross. As sly as he was, he wasn’t a coward. He’d plow through Gerzon and leave when he damn well pleased. It wasn’t like he was coming back to this realm.

  Do or die. Literally.

  Between his father and Gerzon, his head wasn’t long for his shoulders in Daemon.

  Could he make it work again? Exit a human and be in his own body in the human realm? He couldn’t morph his wings like those of Numen could, but until he learned, he could hide them. A trench coat or something might work. Then there were his horns.

  A trench coat and a hat. He’d be killing it in the human realm.

  Time to go.

  He gripped the handle, adopted his most fearsome expression, and ripped open the door.

  Gerzon’s gnarly fist was about to wail on the door. Sandeen caught his hand and flung it to aside like the other male had the strength of a baby.

  Two other male demons were with him. Their eyes flared wide and each set of wings twitched, waiting for Gerzon to lose his shit.

  And thus his confidence that he was better than Gerzon. The male with crooked black horns and ragged wings as papery as a bat’s couldn’t control his emotions. So far, he’d ruled his team with brute force, and since he didn’t interfere with stronger archmasters, like Sandeen’s father, he was left alone.

  It was his right-hand female that worried Sandeen. She was cruel, calculating, and, he suspected, just biding her time until she could overthrow Gerzon.

  She wasn’t around, making this interaction easier.

  Gerzon curled a fat lip. “Don’t touch me, you—”

  “Worthless whelp of sylph whore.” He kept his tone bored. “I heard you the first time. And it explains why I don’t know who my mother is.”

  “She was a—”

  Since he didn’t need to hear more insults about a female who had left him at the mercy of his heartless-even-for-Daemon father, he cut his hand through the air.

  Gerzon swelled, his rage ballooning his chest out. The male’s turgid cock engorged. Unlike much of the realm, Sandeen preferred clothing. One, he didn’t feel the need to run around impaling unwilling males or females whenever the opportunity arose, and two, it made it harder for others to tackle and rape him.

  Home sweet home.

  Shoving past Gerzon and letting the door slam behind him, he stepped far enough away from his hovel of a home. The door would automatically seal thanks to a few simple wards.

  “Look, G. I’m a busy guy. I don’t know what you came here for, but since you don’t have an appointment, I’ve gotta run.”

  Gerzon narrowed his murky blue eyes. “Whatever deal you have with Jameson Haddock, consider it done. Step on my turf again and I’ll kill you.”

  Shaking in my sylph-skin loafers. “Gotcha.” He gave Gerzon a quizzical look. “But who’s Jameson Haddock?”

  With a wicked smile he crossed into the Gloom and located the older woman he’d been keeping tabs on. She wasn’t a God-fearing person and had just lost her beloved nineteen-year-old kitty. She was hating life and everyone in it. It made her soul ripe for the picking.

  Gerzon could follow him easi
ly enough in the Gloom. He closed his eyes and targeted the woman. Getting inside of her was as easy as taking a step. One second he was in the dark veil of mist and the next he was drawing a wheezy breath.

  “Margaret,” he muttered to the host he’d completely blocked from her own body. “Use your goddamn inhaler.”

  That cat she was mourning was the source of her asthma. She’d probably go out in a week, adopt another cat, and die of an asthma attack.

  He gave himself a few moments to adjust to her arthritis-riddled body. Fuck, his knees ached. Going to her medicine cabinet, he sucked a few puffs of her inhaler, then flicked bottles left and right.

  Popping an extra dose of her arthritis meds, he passed over the cloudy glass of water on the counter and found an unopened bottle of cranberry juice in the fridge.

  His host was a techie, one reason why he’d kept her in mind. Her smart phone was on the table. He punched in Lindy’s number and sent a message. Updates?

  While waiting for a reply, he puttered around the kitchen. He emptied the dishwasher and filled it again. His host was also a takeout junkie, thanks to her nice pension from an insurance agency, so the dishes were minimal. But the fridge was a pit.

  He was trashing takeout containers when the phone rang.

  Frowning, he peered at the number. Lindy.

  Answering, he said, “Did you miss my voice?”

  His blood chilled at the response. “Why absolutely I did. Sandeen.”

  Jameson. Fuck. He was too smart to bullshit and he wouldn’t let Lindy get away with a slap on the ass. “Let Lindy go and we’ll talk.”

  “Lindy’s gone.”

  The chill in his veins turned to icicles. “Dammit, Jameson. What did you do? She was just a human pawn.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have sent her to suck my dick and screw me over. She got my son involved.”

  Shit. He’d heard about the fallen’s family, but he’d dismissed the info. It was his understanding that fallen were considered worse than demons to angels. Besides, Jameson and his little games weren’t his concern. Means to an end.

  But Lindy had paid the price. If he were a proper demon, he wouldn’t care. Wasn’t that the crux of his problem? He wasn’t like the other demons. He wasn’t evil, just naughty. That was why Daemon wasn’t a suitable home for him, the reason he couldn’t stomach smelling the rot and filth of this realm any longer. He didn’t rape or pillage and he only killed discreetly, after proper consideration.

  “Your son is still alive but Lindy is dead, yes?” Had she suffered? Again, he shouldn’t care.

  “As a doorstop.” A muffled thud sounded over the line. The image was crystal clear: Jameson banging the door into Lindy’s still form.

  Mix in Gerzon’s insults and Sandeen was really fucking tired of these games.

  He could take out two problems with one shot.

  What about his own plans to find a way to mingle with humans undetected?

  That could wait. He had too much of his own father in him to let Gerzon go without some retribution. Same with Jameson. And, well, since those two were working together, then two birds, one stone.

  “I’d wish you the best, but come around me and my club again and I’ll kill your host.”

  “Gerzon stopped by today.”

  The curse Jameson bit off made him smile.

  “That’s right. He knows about us working together. Think I should tell him why?”

  Chapter 21

  Jagger snapped his shirt into place. Felicia was already dressed and ready and had two protein shakes waiting for them.

  He left his bedroom and met her by the door. Grabbing his shake with one hand and pulling her in for a kiss with his other, he prayed for more days like this. Well, not exactly like this. This part, waking up to his mate and getting ready together, he wanted forever. But the part where he was going to meet with his team to talk about hunting down one of their own and possibly his own father? Never again.

  Breaking away from him, she peered into his eyes. “Are you ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be. I’m glad you’re with me.”

  He whipped open the front door and pulled up short. His mother and her boyfriend waited on the other side.

  Mother only lifted a finely manicured brow. Mateo recovered quickly, impressing Jagger even more. His type was who they needed guarding their realm, but he’d also make a hell of a warrior.

  “Mother.”

  She waved at the door behind him. “Go ahead and close it, I won’t take long.” She seemed to gather herself, brushing her hands down her formal robe. Dread swept through Jagger. If something was bothering his mother enough to show this much, it must be bad. “I came by to tell you that I gave the senate my recommendation on how we should move forward with your… With Jameson Haddock.”

  His stomach could’ve been filled with lead it sunk so hard. Subconsciously, he’d known this was coming. There were so many reasons to dread this morning, but hearing the final determination of his father’s fate topped the list.

  Felicia’s hand curled into his, and he squeezed it.

  The movement didn’t go unnoticed; neither did their matching marks. “Well.” No mother in the history of Numen had ever looked less pleased that their child was mated. “I won’t pretend I don’t have concerns.”

  “So do we,” he shot back. “It’s not like our role models made this something to be desired.”

  Mother lifted her chin. “I understand. Just like I understand that your father and I are not the norm.” Her gaze shifted to Felicia. “And neither were yours, though dare I say, their fate is a more common occurrence than we possibly know.”

  “And I dare say,” Felicia began, “that both of these circumstances should be discussed and not swept under some rock and rolled up in some attic in the archives. I think that especially my mother would’ve benefited from open dialogue about what was going on, and what had happened.”

  Mother inhaled and pressed a hand to her stomach, but her demeanor softened. “While I don’t care to think about what it would’ve been like to have my business spread through the realm even more than it was, I must agree. Ignoring our fallen has only led us to be woefully ignorant about them.”

  “I extend an offer to discuss it with the senate.” Felicia’s hand was gripping his like a vise.

  Mother dipped her head. When her gaze went back to him, it was filled with regret. “My recommendation was that Jameson Haddock be executed for his crimes.”

  Mateo dipped his head, and Felicia couldn’t hide her sharp intake of breath. Jagger held his mother’s gaze. “I understand.”

  “Yes, well, we all seem to understand. I think perhaps it’s time to admit how incredibly awful it is. I also can’t ignore how angry I am at him for everything he’s put us through.” Mother briefly closed her eyes. “I will also admit the problems in our relationship went both ways. To a point.”

  Classic Mother. But she wasn’t wrong.

  “It’s not just his crimes, is it?” Their kind didn’t take executions lightly. “It’s what his blood can do to us.” Losing the ability to transcend made them vulnerable, as the number of missing and presumed dead angels attested to.

  “I’m afraid that is a condition we’ll need to research further. But yes, he is a danger to us all.”

  “Thank you for telling me. We’re running late for a meeting with Director Vale.”

  As he and Felicia stepped around Mother, he wondered for a moment if he shouldn’t, like, hug her or something. It so wasn’t them, but if there ever was a time, this was the moment.

  There was enough regret in his life.

  He closed the space between them and engulfed his mother in a strong embrace. She stiffened for a heartbeat and then clung to him more fiercely than he’d ever thought possible. She was a strong female; he had never doubted that.

  When he stepped back, he looked at Mateo. “This thing between you two, I’m happy for you and wherever you to decide it should go.”
/>   “As far as she’ll let it.”

  * * *

  It felt like she was intruding on a private family moment.

  Sierra’s house loomed in front of them. When Felicia had been here last time, it had seemed like a small, cramped rental. Right now, it could rival the size of the archives.

  Jagger’s team surrounded the home. Even Bryant was here.

  Odessa was under the protection of Enforcer Tosca. There were few people Bryant trusted anymore. Felicia was honored to be one of them.

  Grim faces surrounded her. There was no hiding what they were here to do. She had told them about her confrontation with Sierra, and honestly, she didn’t expect the female to be around.

  Bryant did the deed. He marched into the house, and the rest filed in. There was no subterfuge, there was no chase. If Sierra was here they would take her into custody.

  Felicia was the last one in, save Jagger behind her.

  She almost bumped into Bronx’s back. Everyone had stopped in the entryway.

  Sierra sat on the threadbare living room couch. She was pale, her short blond hair tucked behind her ears, her hands clenched in the leggings covering her thighs.

  “Sierra, why?” Bryant’s voice was soft. This was hard on all of them. It had to be like arresting a sister.

  She glanced at Jagger. Or hunting down yet another family member.

  The team faced Sierra like a wall. A somber, resolute wall.

  Sierra took her time looking at each one of them. Had to give the girl points for a hefty set of lady balls.

  “I was protecting myself.” She sounded strong, even though she looked like a stiff wind could topple her. “And I should’ve known that, in the end, I was destroyed anyway.”

  Dionna spoke, a thread of anger releasing each word. “Any chance you’ll give us the specifics, or are you just going to wait and see how those will be used against us too?”

  Felicia almost winced. The guilt swamping Sierra was obvious. She looked like she bore the weight of all the realms on her shoulders.