“Do you think Stede and his daughter know we found all this?”
“No. I hope we can get it removed before they find out. I just wish I could see the look on their faces when they walk in and find this empty.”
She chuckled. During times like this, it was the small things. “Why don’t you guys have crystal armor or something? If it can contain angel fire, why can’t it be used for protection?”
“The weight of it would interfere with movement too much. Then there’s the question of where we would wear it. A helmet? Chest plate? Either place would make it hard to fight. Our opponents aren’t as encumbered.”
And they would be faster. “Still, I think with a little research and brainstorming, something could come of it.”
A smile played over his lips. “And again you have a lot of ideas for an angel who wants nothing to do with the realm.”
“I’m sure I’m not the only one with these thoughts.”
“No. But you have the family name to back them up.” He gave her a knowing look and sauntered out of the room.
“Point taken.” And ignored. “Want me to take the front or back door?”
“Your pick. But we should watch from the outside in.”
She split for the back door. Not much light filtered into the place. It made it easy to come and go without being seen.
She opened the back door and came face-to-face with Stede.
His head was turned back, talking to someone she couldn’t see. “…anchored in the Mist for now, but I couldn’t cross with him—” He faced her.
Felicia’s lungs seized until drawing in a breath was as hard as breathing through a soaked washcloth. Seeing him, in the dark like this, transported her back in time. She couldn’t make a sound.
“She’ll suffer for you.”
Her mind couldn’t tell her that it wasn’t true. That it wasn’t eleven years ago.
Stede’s upper lip curled and he charged her. She wasn’t prepared and toppled back. Her back hit the floor with his snarling face looming over her. As soon as the pain in her back flared, her brain came online. Her training kicked in.
She elbowed him in the face. Shoving him off, she rolled, coming to her feet faster than him. Another form flew through the door with a roar.
Tenley tried to tackle her but Felicia wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. The other female wasn’t an experienced fighter. She was a liar. A manipulator. But not a trained, skilled, or experienced fighter. And she had no idea how fast Felicia could move.
A sharp punch to the face followed by one to the gut and Tenley dropped.
Her skin prickled. Stede was going to jump her, but footsteps pounded. Jagger.
Stede ducked out of Jagger’s reach. “You touch me and your father’s dead.”
Jagger pulled up short.
Stede swiped a hand across his nose. “That’s right. I have him.”
“He’s in the Mist. I don’t think they can get him out, but they can’t keep him there long.” Felicia circled Tenley. She was starting to cough and struggling to get to her feet. Felicia kicked her in the stomach. “But lookit here. We have his daughter.”
Stede’s sinister grin faltered. He lunged for the door, knocking Jagger out of the way. Felicia kicked at him, knocking him off-balance. But he made it outside and disappeared.
“Stay with her.” Jagger sprinted after him, vanishing into the Mist.
Felicia took stock of what was around her to keep Tenley subdued. Knocking her out would be best, but then she couldn’t answer questions. The female didn’t seem to be one to have spare rope and duct tape stored away. Loads of angel fire, yes. Actually useful items, no.
She sank into a squat, glaring at a groaning Tenley. Harlowe had better get here soon with backup.
* * *
Cool droplets surrounded him. Jagger squinted through the Mist. Had he gone in at the same spot Stede had entered?
He stalked through the damp grass, hunting Stede. And his father. Nothing stayed long in the Mist. Did Stede think he could keep Father here and bleed him whenever he wanted? Did Stede think he could get Father into Numen?
He hoped not. For Father’s sake. And for the rest of the realm. Jameson Haddock might be in danger now, but after Stede was taken care of, Jameson would become the danger.
“Dammit.” He couldn’t hear a thing. But he wasn’t giving up.
Maybe he couldn’t track Stede, but he could zero in on Father.
Where are you?
He drifted to his left.
Are those voices?
“Wake up, you fool.” Stede.
Jagger slowed. It was better to preserve the element of surprise as long as possible.
A moan. Father? “Stede. The Mist?” A grunt and a weak laugh. “I won’t be here long. You can’t keep me here.”
“You’re coming to Numen with me. Now concentrate.”
The laughter was stronger this time. “I strongly suspected you were an idiot. I can’t cross over. Don’t you think I’ve tried?”
Jagger hovered far enough away to keep from being seen.
“Now you have help. Concentrate.” Impatience dripped from Stede’s tone.
“I’ve used Daemon steel, the blood of warriors, chaperones, watchers. Nothing has worked.”
“Numen steel.” The whisper of a blade being released from a sheath resonated through the Mist.
A yell ripped from Father. “It burns, jackass. Don’t you think I would’ve tried it if I could have held on to it?”
Jagger kept low and inched closer. Stede was towering over a sprawled Jameson, holding on to his collar.
Stede snarled and shoved Father to the ground. “I’ll have to keep you in the human realm.” He stalked a few feet away. “Fuck!” The rage was coming straight from a male watching years of planning crumbling around him.
“Tell me, Stede.” Father sat up. His hands and legs were bound like Jagger’s had been. For all of his planning, Stede was a one-trick pony. “Did you pick me to fall or capitalize on it like the parasite you are?”
Stede stalked back to him. “I get sick of hearing your arrogant voice. It’s time to go.”
Father jerked away, his suit wet and wrinkled. “Listen. We can still work together. You find a way to get me into Numen and I’ll give you all the blood you want.”
The other male paused. “You can’t be serious.”
“As a hit on the head.” The wry note was unmistakable. “We’re both out for number one, I get that. But you want my blood and I want back home.”
Was Stede actually considering it? Father had lost everything but his charm. It was what had gotten him the farthest.
“Or”—Stede flipped the knife in his hand to sheathe it—“I could be over making deals.”
Jagger stalked toward Stede on silent feet. The fucker was going to descend out of the Mist, then he’d be back in the wind and nearly impossible to find.
Stede didn’t sense him until Jagger was plowing into him. Stede’s blade tumbled to the ground.
“Julian!”
He had to ignore Father. Getting Stede into custody was his priority.
But the male rallied. He spread his wings, making it difficult for Jagger to get close. Air buffeted around him as Stede whipped and snapped his feathers, creating a disorienting chaos. It was an unusual, but effective move. Demons were too intent on the kill to use their wings as anything more than weapons.
When Stede got enough distance between them, Jagger knew he’d lost his chance. “I’m going to bathe you in angel fire and take my time with your mate.” Then he was gone.
“No!” Felicia was alone with Tenley, and Stede was going back. Fuck! He looked back at his father. Chartreuse eyes regarded him. Father was using the end of his sleeve to hold on to Stede’s knife and cut himself free.
But Jagger’s decision was made. Felicia’s safety was more important to him. He’d deal with Father later.
Crossing back into Numen, he was a hundred yards f
rom the house. The back door was broken down and the thumps of fighting from inside rang into the night.
He ran, knives in his hands.
When he dove through the opening, the sight that greeted him filled him with nothing but panic.
The kitchen, where he’d left Felicia and Stede’s daughter, was empty. Stede had herded Felicia back to the bedroom. He was trying to get to the angel fire.
“Felicia!” he yelled, more to let her know he was there than to garner a response.
As he sprinted down the hall, a grappling Stede and Felicia disappeared into the room. When he rounded the entry, Tenley was slipping behind the fighting pair and into the closet. Felicia had been trying to keep her from getting to the room, but Stede was too much of a distraction.
Stede was faltering. Felicia was better.
Tenley emerged from the closet, a large vial poised and ready to throw. Felicia’s back was turned. She made a perfect target.
“Felicia, behind you.”
She didn’t glance at him, but she ducked and shoved her shoulder into Stede’s gut. By the time he let out an oomph, Felicia had turned and used him as a battering ram.
As he fell back into his daughter, Felicia freed herself. But Stede’s unsteadiness impacted her and she cartwheeled, about to fall forward.
Jagger leaped to grab her arms and pulled her into his. Stede toppled. A shattering sound preceded a burst of light and Tenley’s scream.
Angel fire wicked up their feet. Stede’s cry mixed with his daughter’s. Jagger squeezed Felicia. She was frozen, watching the horror unfold.
Stede’s wide, frantic gaze met theirs. The regrets rampaging through his mind played out on his face. It was over. It was over for both him and his daughter. He let out a scream, his face mottling with rage as he lurched to his feet and wavered, barely able to stand as angel fire claimed first his skin, then his muscle.
He flung his arms out. The whole scene seemed to be in slow motion, but it lasted seconds. Stede grabbed a bottle. As he was falling to the floor, he lobbed it toward them. Then he fell backward, toward the rack of bottles.
Instinctively, Jagger spun, an “I’m sorry” escaping him. The bottle would shatter against his wings and if it stopped at just those, he’d be lucky. But he’d likely die. The amount of fire that would explode over him would see to it. But he could buy Felicia enough time to escape before the closet full of fire claimed the entire house.
“Jagger!” A figure burst into the room with a roar and dove between him and the bottle.
Glass broke as Jagger twisted, his body covering Felicia’s. Her hands dug into him as she craned to see what had happened.
“Father!” Searing heat swamped the room. Light bloomed from the closet. They only had seconds before the pool of fire spread out, seeking any substance to expend its blistering energy on.
Father was on the ground, angel fire already blazing through his clothing and into his body. The look of peace on Father’s face made Jagger pause. The male was burning alive, but wonder filled his expression. When his bright gaze landed on Jagger, his words were hard to hear.
“I could only think of helping you. And then I was here. Home.” He reached a hand out.
Ignoring the danger they were in, barely aware of Felicia’s steadying hold, he released her to briefly clasp Father’s hand.
All the years they lost melted away and they were nothing but father and son again.
“Go.” Father’s voice was a pained whisper. “Let me save you. Let me do one good thing in my life.” Father’s hand went limp, dropping away before the angel fire could touch Jagger.
If tears streaked down his cheeks, they evaporated too quickly to see. Felicia was tugging at him and he didn’t have the energy to fight her. His feet moved of their own accord, but his gaze never left Father’s until the life wicked out of them and Jagger was gone from the room.
Chapter 24
He was too cheerful. Showered and dressed in a short white robe, his damp hair hanging in his face, he didn’t look like someone grieving.
“Jagger. Do you need to talk or something?” She’d found him in the kitchen after waking up. The bed had been empty and she’d tossed on a white T-shirt and black shorts. Not her usual colorful style. If he were feeling like himself, he would’ve commented on it.
But he couldn’t be feeling like himself. Not after last night. Bryant had banned him from lingering after the dust had settled. Angel fire left little to clean up, so there was that.
When they’d returned after the fight, they’d done little more than change into clean clothes and crawl into bed. She had drifted off, but she doubted he’d gotten a wink of sleep.
“I’m fine.” He was assembling a charcuterie board. Grapes, cheese, crackers. He must’ve made a regular Piggly Wiggly stop at some point to get the crackers.
She edged next to him, pressing her butt on the counter and scooting closer. A playful gesture, but one that should tell him that she wasn’t letting up. He was facing the other way, artfully arranging the freaking cheese stack.
“I don’t want to nag, but last night seems too monumental to ignore. You may not need to talk now, but just know that I’m here.”
He pressed his hands on the top of the counter and looked at her, his gaze deceptively serious. The lighthearted breakfast-making guy hadn’t been an act, but deliberate.
“I did a lot of thinking last night.” He paused so long she wasn’t sure he’d continue. “For years, I was obligated to forget my father existed. That didn’t happen. Then when I knew more about him, I didn’t like him. But I loved him. In the end, he chose me over everything else. Over everyone else. It was more than I ever thought I’d have from him. He’s gone, and I hate to say, it’s probably better that way. He would never be a good guy.”
“But he was your father.”
Jagger nodded, his eyes dimming. She didn’t have to ask—and she wouldn’t—what he was thinking about. Jameson Haddock’s sacrifice. It didn’t matter what name the male had gone by, he would’ve been the same conflicted angel he’d always been. And then there was the horrible things he’d done, the beings he’d killed in cold blood.
He tucked a grape between her lips and said, “I’m done being caught with one foot in the past. We’re moving forward.”
She flicked out her tongue, licking the tips of his fingers. His pupils dilated. Oh yeah, they could complete their bond right here on the counter. She finished chewing. “I’m ready.”
“Yeah?” He crowded her against the cool marble and lowered his head so his lips hovered over hers. “For what?”
“To finish the sync.”
He drew back. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. You and I are in this together. I have faith we’ll stick with it. Together.”
He twined his hands around her waist and pulled her close, but he didn’t kiss her. “You can have all the time you need.”
“We’re overdue.”
A slow grin spread across his lush lips. “Let your wings out.”
Her sexy sync moment didn’t include her wings. But her future did, and that started now. She peeled off her shirt and unfurled them, shifting her shoulders to ease the stretch and pull of them straightening.
They hung behind her. Was it stupid to hope her boobs would distract him from looking at them?
The heat in his eyes didn’t diminish. It grew stronger. His gaze traced over each wing. “That’s better.” This time, he didn’t hesitate to capture her mouth.
She’d expected a frenzied coupling, but she didn’t get it.
Languid. Relaxed. He left her breasts alone as he slid his hands around her rib cage, massaging his fingers into her back.
She moaned and released the tension she’d held in her shoulders. He obviously found her sexy. That hard-on couldn’t lie.
He brushed his hands along her wings, kissing the worry out of her before turning his attention to her shorts. He hooked his fingers over her waistband to roll them down.
>
Growing impatient, she buried her hands in his loose hair.
“Hands onto the counter,” he growled.
Her breath hitched. Was he making her pay for waiting?
“We only get this one time to complete the sync. I want to take you here with the sun shining on your golden skin and your cries echoing off the walls.”
She licked her bottom lip. Yeah. That sounded excellent. She pressed her hands into the cool stone. Once he took her shorts off, he kissed his way up her thighs until his hot breath wafted over her sensitive flesh. He slid his hands between her thighs and draped one leg over his shoulder.
Gazing up at her, he leaned in and licked through her seam.
She bucked against his face. That was all the warm-up she needed. She was ready to implode, explode, it didn’t matter as long as the coiling energy inside of her had a place to go.
But he went frustratingly slow. Lapping steadily, then changing his rhythm. She buried her hands in his hair and rocked against him. Whenever she was about to crest, and he changed his pace—to her audible whimper—she could feel his smile against her skin.
“You’re so bad,” she panted.
With that, he nipped at her clit. The shock sent her over the edge. She gripped the edge of the counter, clinging to keep from collapsing against his face as her orgasm rocked her.
He rose, kissing and nipping up her belly, over her breasts, and nibbling his way up her neck.
She wrapped her hand around his hard length. The heat of him nearly seared her hand. “It’s my turn.”
He touched his forehead to hers and shook his head. “Next time. I can’t wait.”
“I thought we were taking it slow.”
“I can’t.” His tone was ragged, pained. He shrugged out of his robe, letting it slip off his wings and hit the floor. “We’ll have forever to take it slow.” He gripped her ass and lifted her in one smooth motion to keep from jerking on her wings. She automatically wrapped her legs around him.
Wicked Fire: Angel Fire, book 2 Page 23
