Unchained Desire

by R. C. Alvarez

  Dead no longer, the tree thrived, the ashy boughs now lively and filled with renewed vigor. The old oak stood tall, full, and alive in the morning light.

  “Told you.” His warm voice, usually harsh, heated her face.

  He stepped away from her. She turned and used the tree to support her now weak limbs. Smiling at Ram, she shook the prickly sensation out of her fingers.

  Then exhaustion hit her muscles. It was as if she had crossed the line of an Iron Man race, and now that it was over, her body stopped working. She staggered, struggling to stay upright. “Ram?”

  He caught her before she fell. Gently, he lowered her until she was sitting against the tree. So, her powers had a draw-back, too. They turned her into a useless noodle. At least she didn’t get headaches. Poor David.

  Catching her breath, Kyria leaned her head against the rough bark. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I just need to rest for a moment.” She couldn’t look at him right now, not with other urges still in her head. Lust ran rampant through her body. He crouched next to her and hovered.

  “Are you thirsty?” He took her hand.

  “No. Just need to sit for a moment.” She glanced at him, but then had to break eye contact, afraid he would see the wanting. Was it the use of her power, Ramiel’s presence, or both that created sexual havoc throughout her body?

  I need to calm down.

  The dim glimmer of his chains caught her attention. A good reminder why she couldn’t pounce on him. “How did they become a part of you?”

  He stood and turned his back to her as he dropped her hand. A long moment passed. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, and Kyria waited patiently. She could probably wait for him forever.

  “Fashion statement,” he finally answered. The metal links rattled as he leaned against the tree beside her and crossed his arms, physically putting up that barrier between himself and the rest of the world.

  Bringing her knees up, Kyria hooked her arms around her legs and grinned. “Careful. You might just start a trend.”

  He made a sound that fell somewhere between a laugh and a snort. One corner of his mouth went up. He shook his head as if to lose the smile. God, that grin did things to her. What would he do if she moved up against him and kissed those lips?

  Ram sat next to her. I could touch him if I just reached out. But she held back.

  Tightening her fingers around her arm, she pressed her cheek against a knee and waited.

  “I was with my team. Sariel. Tamiel. Daniel and Turiel. We lived together in New Zealand when we had…a disagreement. Sariel wouldn’t listen to me. Hell, it was all in my head. Constantly being asked about color schemes for the walls and counting sheep was getting on my nerves, and I just needed an excuse to quit. I couldn’t stay there any longer. I left. Thought I could save the world on my own or something. I wanted…”

  He pushed short dark locks of hair off his scowling forehead. “I met someone I thought needed my help. Her children were in danger. I was going to be a big hero and save them all. She trapped me in a rune circle, instead. Threatened the kids until I manifested my wings. I allowed her demons to pin me down while she tore them out.”

  She finally mustered up the courage to scoot closer.

  Tension rolled through him like a river over the rocks. Yet his gravelly voice was so calm and detached, as if he were telling a story from an old book he read long ago. “Nema. She tore my wings out. She chained me up. Tortured me. Used my blood to…”

  Kyria didn’t have to hear it to know the truth. It was written all over his face. In all his scars. In each rattle of his chains against the iron collar around his throat. He was a slave subjected to all shades of horror.

  “She started growing Nephilim clones in these weird ice tubes, mixing her essence with the blood of fallen she captured.” He shook his head. “Mutated. Suffering. They never survive past the second trimester. So, she’d eat them. Claimed it made her stronger.”

  Her stomach sank. She clamped her mouth shut to stop a cry of distress.

  “After a while, the mind becomes desensitized, but…” The shrug did nothing to soften the hard line of his jaw or the coldness in his eyes. “That’s what really fucked me up.”

  She covered her mouth and tried to blink away the tears. He wouldn’t appreciate the sympathy.

  She wanted to reassure him. But she kept her hands to herself.

  Finally, she asked, “How long have you…when did it happen?”

  He didn’t miss a beat. “A hundred and fifty years ago.”

  So much explanation from a man who barely talked and preferred single syllable phrases when he absolutely had to. She cherished his trust like a gift, better than any bouquet of flowers.

  “And there’s no way out of her control?” Over a hundred years was enough time for anyone to try for freedom. Ram wouldn’t have submitted so easily.

  “I could stop drinking blood, but I’d stop existing all together and be trapped in the void. I used to think about doing it, but then she’d win.” His hand clenched. “If I got my wings back, I’d be able to break the chains. Get my revenge.”

  “Can’t God or the other archangels help?”

  The energy around him turned dark. “I’d rather rot than ask for their help again.” He took a heavy breath and continued to stare straight ahead. “I’m finished with begging like a dog. It’s not like I have anything to go back to, anyway. Seven days and a bottle of whiskey is all I need.”

  She pressed her mouth against the crook of her elbow to keep from saying anything. Her voice would crack, and she didn’t want him thinking she was weak. Or worse, that she pitied him.

  “I’m better off alone.” No longer staring into the distance, he shifted his attention to her.

  Is he asking me to understand? She flattened her palm over her beating heart. It hurt to swallow.

  “Over and over, my father told me how my mother sacrificed herself to save my life. I was a baby, and she stayed behind, giving my father time to escape with me.” Tucking her hands under her arms kept some of the chill away. “When I was little, I’d pretend that if she was alive, she’d read me stories before bed…”

  She glanced at him. “Now, I don’t know the truth. What if she wasn’t who he says she was? I mean, he’s still my father, right? He raised me, and I love him. But now I’m second guessing everything he’s taught me.”

  She wiped her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek. She wouldn’t cry. “Sorry. I’ve never talked about my mother before. And now… I didn’t want you to be the only one sharing.”

  “Thank you.” He turned from her and tilted his face to the cloudless sky.

  She twisted and reached for his jaw. “Ramiel.”

  Brows drawn tight, a sliver of vulnerability fractured his usual mask of bitter hostility. I have to kiss him. Hand on his jaw, she caught the hard line of his lips with her own. The parts of his mouth that were a little deformed from scars intrigued her, real and flawed.

  The brush of their lips tickled her senses, like the scruff of his jaw he couldn’t seem to completely shave away. She wanted more, but this was not the time.

  Moving up, she trailed kisses along that stubborn jaw, pressing her lips against his ear, and whispered, “You’re not alone anymore.”

  His lids slid shut. A low sound of distress rumbled in his throat. It was the hardest thing, letting him go, but she did. Rising to her feet, she brushed dirt off her jeans with nervous hands. Why did I have to say something so stupid?

  Strong fingers captured her wrist, hauled her back against him, and held her in place. A burning warmth bloomed and crept up her neck to brand her pale cheeks. She faced him as he stood. He didn’t look entirely unhappy to be touching her. “Ram?”

  “You still need to practice. Flash us to the house. You should clean up before meeting Val.”

  A nod was all she could manage. Closing her eyes, she tried to calm the chao
s in her head then focused on whisking them away without unfolding her wings.

  The world shifted.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The sun hit the highest point in the sky when Ram found Kyria’s room empty. At the oak tree, he hadn’t known what to say, but it was slowly becoming clear. She made him want things he could never have. Would his darkness consume her?

  If that was the case, he didn’t have any good reason to hang around. He would be gone soon, anyway, back in Nema’s grasp.

  After a quick search, he left the house to check the horse barn. He strode into the stable just as Kyria finished fastening a saddle to a dappled gray horse. Her auburn hair swung down from a high ponytail, and a gray turtleneck sweater hugged her curves.

  And there’s the bane of my existence. A pair of tight denim jeans tucked into some dark red cowboy boots. Everything about her outfit called to his most primitive urges, hands aching to touch, but mostly to protect.

  “Are you riding to the bunker?” His voice sounded harsh to his own ears.

  Her smile disappeared as she turned her face to him. It hurt. Why can’t I learn to be gentler? She moved around the large horse, her hand skimming its hide the entire way. “Alaska, this is Ramiel. The stubborn angel I was telling you about.”

  The horse bobbed her head and snorted. Does it actually understand her?

  “Where are you going, Kyria?”

  “You’re full of questions today. Yes, I’m going to the bunker. I missed breakfast so I texted Val that I’d make it to lunch. But I’m hungry from practicing how to flash all morning. I thought I’d take a break and ride the rest of the way there.” Pushing the stable door open, she walked off and disappeared into the tack room. He stood there waiting, the finality of his goodbye stuck in his chest like a brand. “Why not drive there?”

  “I prefer this. Ever since I met Val, horseback riding has always been my favorite thing to do. Calms my nerves.” Returning with bridle and reins in her hand, she gave him a small tired smile he didn’t know he needed. The sweetest offering. “Do you ride?”

  Damn it. “I know horses as well as I do motorcycles, if not more. I used to ride them before vehicles were invented.”

  She shook her head. “Oh, right. Well, would you like to join me?” Pointing to another stall, she nodded. “Corona would be a perfect mount for you.”

  A big, dark bay horse stood in the stable across from Alaska. Suppressing an incredulous laugh, he went to the stall. “That’s what I was drinking with the whiskey when we met.”

  “I know.”

  Did he really want to leave? Around her, his heart finally beat with purpose. “I’ll join you.”

  The last time Ramiel had ridden a horse was the day he’d met Nema. A twitch ran through him, and his chains rattled, but he hid it with purposeful movement, saddling the horse.

  Once everything was in place, he mounted. Thankfully, the noise of his iron bindings didn’t make Corona nervous. And then they were off, Kyria in the lead.

  Half a mile out, she sidled her horse next to his. “Ramiel, why did you leave New Zealand?”

  He scowled but found no reason to deny her the truth now. “Sheep.”

  “Uh, what?”

  A gentle nudge of his heels pushed Corona to keep walking at a slower pace. “Sheep were disappearing. Then some local children went missing. I wanted to investigate, but Sariel said it wasn’t our problem.” Because they weren’t supposed to care about the rest of the world. That was the pact they formed when they fell. But as hard as he tried, he hadn’t been able to ignore the dangers. “I went out on my own. Discovered a demon trail and followed it around the world until I met Nema in Texas.”

  “That’s terrible. They should’ve gone with you.” Kyria kept pace with him, her gray horse snorting.

  He shrugged as his chest burned. “Shit happens.”

  “No, family shouldn’t leave you on your own. I’m searching for my father for as long as it takes. Maybe they’re looking for you, too?”

  Her hope was the addicting kind. Words to counter such optimism didn’t come to him. Is she right? All this anger and resentment he held onto for so long would be meaningless then.

  The horses stopped unprompted and made sharp, nervous noises. Kyria’s mare threw her head a couple of times while Corona backed up.

  Kyria dug her heels into the ribs of her horse and trotted forward.

  Ram followed her, at least tried to. Corona was not happy being here. Once he got the horse to calm down with mild reassurances and a firm pat, he caught up where she sat on her horse beneath the shade of a tree.

  Ram scanned the silent valley. One old barn stood not far off across the pasture in the center of dead cedar, gray and dark inside.

  “Something’s weird about that barn. I’ve never seen it before.”

  The aura wasn’t natural. A thin layer of spectral energy coated the building. If it meant the ranch any harm, he’d deal with it.

  “It might be haunted.”

  Kyria frowned. “I think Val would know if something on the property was haunted.”

  Before she even finished her sentence, a rumbling groan filtered through the air, coming from the barn. Old wood spoke to no one, crying out in a single moan that faded. They stared in silence for a second. Even the horses, ears tilted forward.

  Kyria turned to look at him. “Do you really think there’s a demon?”

  Ramiel grabbed the horn of his saddle and dismounted while he answered. “No. Not with the salt caves so close. But it’s not happy, whatever it is.” He patted his horse’s neck and led him closer to the barn. “If it’s a spirit it can’t actually harm us. Unless we let it.”

  Kyria and Alaska kept pace beside them as he sniffed. An eerie creaking carried through the air, and they shared a glance. About twenty feet from the building, the horses refused to take another step.

  After Kyria dismounted, they tied their horses to one of the old trees and approached the barn’s gaping entrance, the double doors having fallen off long ago. Kyria pointed to the empty hay loft above.

  “Stay here,” he ordered. There wasn’t much that would be able to hurt him, but he wasn’t taking any chances with her.

  Just before he reached the top stair, her soft steps came up behind him. A low sound of displeasure rattled in his chest.

  She would follow. Well, he wasn’t going to force her back down. Leaving enough room for her to join him, he stepped carefully into the loft, placing heavy, booted feet on parts of the flooring that didn’t look as dangerous.

  There were only a few iffy water stains. The rest wasn’t as rotted as he expected. Just the perfect place for snakes or rodents to infest, but none in sight. Not even a scuttling of insects filled the dark corners. It was still. Unnaturally so.

  Kyria caught up and took her place right at his side. He wasn’t sure if he was impressed with her courage or frustrated by her lack of survival instincts.

  “Maybe it was just our imagination.” She kept her voice low.

  He doubted that very much. “Maybe.”

  A bird flew out from a crevice in the ceiling and frantically circled their heads. Kyria yelped and shielded her head while it panicked, fluttering down past the loft and out the front entrance. He glanced down at her with a raised eyebrow.

  “Well, it’s no ghost.” She tucked a stray hair behind her ear in a nervous way, flushing red. Her blood pumping hard through her veins called to him. Dammit, I already ate plenty of packs Val gave me.

  He ran his tongue over a fang, turning away to ignore the urge to dig in and feed on her. That temptation flew out like the bird when he caught a figure standing next to a grime-caked window.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Kyria must have picked up on his tension.

  “You don’t see her?”

  “No.” She spoke low. “What is it?”

  The shape disappeared. “A figure at the window, definitely female. She’s gone now.” She hadn’t moved or spoke. All he got was a
dark vibe, like a spider caught in its own web, waiting to eat itself. But there was no malevolence. Not even vengeance. Which meant one of two things. Either the centuries of whiskey were finally getting to him, or the ghost had sealed its own fate and got itself stuck in this rotten little slice of hell on earth.

  “Are you sure? Cause this place looks pretty empty to me.”

  “It’s a spirit.”

  “Really?” Her eyes went wide, and she walked to the same window.

  “I used to deal with spirits all the time, being one of several angels tasked with ferrying souls into heaven.” When he wasn’t leading armies into battle against rebellious demons. “It’s been a while, but from what I can tell…she probably killed herself.” He reached out into the surrounding air with all his senses as he joined Kyria.

  Ramiel crossed his arms, tapping into his unnatural powers to look deeper into the spirit world, something he hadn’t done in a long time. Yet he slipped into it as if time hadn’t passed at all. The tragedy that took place became clear.

  “She hung herself. Out the window.”

  Kyria didn’t comment. She stuck her hand out and tenderly pressed her palm against the glass.

  The temperature dropped. Chilly became freezing. His next exhale came out on crystallized breath.

  “Kyria.” He unfolded his arms and reached for her wrist, gently taking her hand off the glass. Her pulse jumped beneath his fingertips. Unsure if it was the supernatural change in the loft or their sudden contact, he immediately let her go.

  “What was that?” She asked. Quiet. Breathless.

  “We disturbed her.” He kept his voice low too, grumbling as he scanned the empty space around them. “She doesn’t know what’s going on. But she knows something’s different.”

  “Can we help her? We can’t just leave her like this.”

  “It’s not our place. She got herself here. She has to deal with the consequences.” His voice tightened, chest burning.

  “We have to try.” She pleaded without needing to ask, always wanting to barge into other people’s problems and boldly trying to fix them.

  An idea formed. “I might be able to do something. But not on my own.”