by Alisa Woods
“Yes,” Tajael growled. “But I have control of it.” He hesitated, but he should tell someone. In case the worst happened. “I’ve revealed myself to her.”
Oriel’s expression was truly shocked. “You what?”
“In a human guise,” he quickly explained. “She had need of rescue. It was that or reveal myself entirely.”
Oriel’s shock tempered a little. “A wise decision.”
“I like to think so.” Tajael hesitated, but if he told Oriel of his near-brush with Falling with Charlotte, then maybe it would ease his friend’s mind. “We’ve also kissed.”
Oriel’s face morphed quickly to horror. “And your wings?” he asked, aghast. Tajael unfurled them, so Oriel could see they remained white. But instead of looking relieved, he only frowned. “Have you had sex?”
“No.” Tajael glared at him. “The kiss was sufficient to school me in the dangers. But I was able to pull back. To remain in the light.”
Charlotte strode toward the door to the bathroom.
“Duty calls,” he said to Oriel. “Trust in me, my friend. I have it under control.”
Oriel opened his mouth to say something more, but Tajael was already making haste to follow Charlotte before the door swung shut, so Oriel was cut off when Tajael moved out of the auditory shielding. If Oriel wished to follow him, he could, but after Tajael trailed Charlotte back to the lab, his friend still did not make himself known. Perhaps he trusted Tajael at his word.
He only wished he was as wise as he pretended.
“Okay, what’s next?” Charlotte asked once they were all back in the lab.
“Next, we go home,” the leader said.
“Home? But we can still try—” Charlotte cut off at his raised hand.
“We’re not giving up, Dr. Netherman. But everyone’s tired. We’re just making mistakes at this point. The resonator is taking power and generating fields. We’ll fine-tune it from there. Starting tomorrow.”
“Right. Of course.” Charlotte looked abashed, as if she were personally responsible for pushing them. But Tajael had seen the eagerness on all their faces.
The workers quickly filed out, relief and fatigue pulling down their shoulders.
Charlotte lingered behind with the leader. “Do you really think—”
“It’ll be fine,” he reassured her with a smile. “Promise. We just need some clear heads, that’s all. I’ll see you in the morning.” He followed his workers out.
Charlotte stayed behind for a moment, looking wistfully at all the equipment and cabling and computers crammed into the small laboratory. Then she peered up at him, where he was perched on top of the machine. It startled him for a moment, then he realized… she was looking at the paper crane in its glass box. “We’re going to do this,” she vowed.
I know you are, he answered in his head. She couldn’t tell him about her work over their tea, but he could reassure her, regardless. Give her the encouragement and confidence she needed. And the idea that they would speak again soon, face to face, sent a thrill of excitement through him. He hovered over her as she gathered her purse and during the long elevator ride down, but as soon as she was in the sedan with her personal driver, Tajael went aloft and scouted ahead. He was sweeping for demon-infected humans, naturally, but he was also scanning the restaurants and shops along the way. He needed a place to take her for tea, and he’d never bothered to notice the stores before.
Charlotte’s car didn’t stop for her ritual visit with Hank, but then it was growing dark, and he was already curled up in his tent.
Just as Tajael spied an electric blue sign up ahead that looked promising—Only the Bean—he sensed something that brought him up short, stalling him out mid-air above the Seattle downtown streets.
Shadowkind. Holy angels of light—
Up ahead, in the lobby of Charlotte’s apartment building, there was a shadow angeling. Had they found her? Was it coincidence? No matter. Tajael drew his blade and sped ahead. He didn’t bother with the turnstile, simply opened an interdimensional door and reappeared inside. The angeling wore glamour—appearing as an ordinary businessman returning home from work, lingering in the lobby over a newspaper—but they immediately knew each other. Tajael rushed him before he could cloak and make the fight more difficult. He plunged his blade into the shoulder of the dark angeling, but more importantly, he grasped hold of him to wrench him away from the lobby. They reappeared on the top of the twenty story apartment building. There, the shadow angeling broke free, tumbling, shedding his glamour and unfolding his obsidian-colored wings. He bared his teeth—filed to points—and Tajael instantly recognized the inky markings on his chest…. for they matched his own.
Elyon’s Regiment.
Tajael’s heart seized. Did Elyon know Charlotte lived here? “Why are you here?” Tajael demanded, hoping the angeling might simply spill the truth. “Not enough entertainment in the shadow realm?”
“I’m here to have light angels for dinner.” He growled and charged, blade first in a fury of feathers and bared teeth.
Tajael caught him in an upward stab, sinking his angel blade deep before twisting away. Still, the shadow blade caught him, grazing across his chest, spreading shadow magic in its path. Tajael’s blade was as deadly to the shadow angel as his dark blade was to Tajael—but Tajael’s strikes were deeper, and he’d scored twice now.
The shadow angeling staggered a little… then charged again.
Tajael surged toward him as well, veering suddenly upward just before they collided. He somersaulted midair, coming back down for a strike through the back that sent the angeling to the roof in a heap. He had no wish to end this angeling’s life, but he also couldn’t risk letting him live. He would bring others, and Charlotte would be threatened. Before the shadow angeling could rise again, Tajael leaped and landed on his back, grinding him to the roof. Then he severed the head in one fast swipe.
Tajael staggered back, his own shadow wound still burning across his chest. It would heal, although it would likely sicken him for a while and take time. He needed to return to Charlotte—she had to be home by now—but he also needed to dispose of the body. That would attract even more attention. With grim determination, he seized hold of the head and body both and twisted through an interdimensional door to Markos’s Dominion. Tajael deposited the body on the floor of the training room—Markos could do as he willed with it—then he returned to Charlotte’s apartment. He was bloodied. His angel-blade was drenched in shadowkind blood. But he was cloaked and ready to resume his Guarding duties.
Charlotte wasn’t there.
Panic seized him, but he had no sense of time—had the battle been merely seconds or minutes? He twisted and reappeared on the street. There was no sign of the sedan. Either it had come and go or… he quickly searched the elevators and lobby, but she was nowhere in the building. Then he backtracked along the path the car usually took, twisting along Seattle’s streets… nothing.
Holy mother of magic… he could not have lost her. Not unless this was a trap. Not unless the shadowkind knew she was there and lured him away, sacrificing one of their own to snatch her. It was possible, but… why not take her in any of a hundred other ways? Why not flood in with a garrison and overwhelm him? If they knew who she was and where…
The whole thing made no sense.
He backtracked again, starting at the last point he saw her, entering the sedan with her driver. Then he carefully searched from there, checking each side street. Perhaps she just made an extra stop. Maybe in search of something before meeting with him for tea. He went aloft to see higher, blinded by the night and the streetlamps, trying to check every street and parkway and side alley…
In a rush that sent his heart lurching, he spied her sedan. It was parked down a dark alley, barely lit. He twisted until he appeared right next to the car, but then froze in place.
The driver, dressed in his dark suit and white shirt and thin tie, had Charlotte bent back over the trunk of the sedan. His full b
ody pressed against hers, his face buried in her neck… but her face… her face was the picture of ecstasy. His hands gripped her as a lover would—one holding the leg she had hooked around his back, the other fisted in her hair, holding her head to the side to give him access for his passionate devouring of her neck—but it wasn’t the man’s hands that convinced Tajael of what he was witnessing.
It was Charlotte’s whimpers and soft cries. The yes, oh God, yes, that he’d heard so many nights coming from her bedroom.
Tajael staggered back, struck as if by shadow blade to the heart. Why would she… she’d never mentioned a longing for her driver, but… as his mind searched for an explanation, as he watched them grapple on the car, as he listened to their fevered moans… the Envy and Wrath welled inside him. They were so sudden and so intense that he could scarce believe their power. A red haze formed in front of his eyes.
He should flee.
These Sins washing over him, these emotions set loose, they were too powerful for him. He should leave before he caused any harm. In his agony, he barely noticed the man lifting his mouth from her neck. She gasped as he wrenched her head so he could feast on the other side.
Feast.
The haze cleared, and Tajael saw the Truth—this was no sexual encounter; this was a murder. Tajael dropped his cloak, and with a warrior’s cry, he shot forward and yanked the vampire free from Charlotte’s body. Then he threw the vile creature against the opposite wall of the alley, where it smacked with a crunching of bones compounded when it fell to the hard-bricked ground. These vampires… they were the source of the demon uprising. The fae had enhanced their venom to transmit a demon virus, and it was this, along with the shadowkind, that made the uprising near impossible to control. Tajael took to wing, lofting up and drawing his blade, then plunging down to slay the creature, nearly cutting it in half with the power of his stroke. Vampires were technically immortal creatures, but they were much closer in strength to their cousins—the witches and shifters—and thus readily slain. It had been so long since he’d encountered one, he’d forgotten the sexual arousal they evoked in their victims—and in themselves—when they fed. It was part of their wickedness that they rendered their prey senseless with pleasure so they would not resist.
Tajael turned away from the body at his feet… only to see Charlotte crumple to the ground.
Holy magic. He dashed to her side, sheathing his blade and lifting her from the dirt of the alley. “Charlotte!” he couldn’t help crying out, but her eyes were closed, her mouth slack, and the blood… it was everywhere. Gushing from the puncture wounds on both sides, there was no telling how much the vampire had taken before Tajael reached her. He quickly held a gentle hand to each wound, healing those shut so she wouldn’t lose anymore, but her pulse was weak. What’s more, she was almost certain to be demon-infected now. In Truth, he could sense it in her. Luckily, the venom was still working through her system. It had not yet roused the latent demon that lay inside. That was how the fae’s evil plan worked. They evaded the treaty that said they could not harm humanity directly by devised this magically enhanced venom. It didn’t harm humanity… it only brought out the worst of them. Surged up the demon within, whichever tendency was most powerful, though latent.
Tajael didn’t know what demon might lurk in the dark recesses of Charlotte’s soul, but he wasn’t giving it a chance to take hold. And since the venom was still fresh, he wouldn’t even need his blade.
He just pressed his mouth to hers and breathed.
The rush of pleasure of the life kiss was profound. His entire body felt as if it were floating—hers pressed to his but otherwise, his feet scarce touched the earth. She responded quickly, and he could sense the nascent demon essence, still bound with the venom, fleeing her body. She grabbed hold of him as she surged back to consciousness. He was still breathing life into her, still gripping her head to hold it steady, his hand at her back to hold her close, the length of his body pressed against hers… including the hardness of his erection pressing into her soft flesh. She pulled at him, bringing his mouth more tightly against hers, breathing in the life-energizing and body-enervating energy that a life kiss brought. He gave her more than she needed. More than he should. He would continue this and give everything to her… he knew he would. He was as enthralled with it as she.
He had to force himself away from her mouth.
But he didn’t go far.
He stood with her in his arms, pressed against him, both breathing hard into each other. His toga revealed most of his chest, and her fingers dug deep into his bare flesh. Her eyes were wide and dilated, cheeks flushed with the pleasure of the life kiss. The shock on her face was complete—it was clear she didn’t expect to awaken in his arms, but equally clear that she had no desire to move away.
Then her hands slid up to his face, and she pulled it back to hers. Her lips pressed against his, hungry and consuming. He shouldn’t kiss her back. He didn’t dare. But with her hot and demanding lips on his, he was powerless to resist. He moved against her without volition. His body responded. His lips eager. Her mouth opened to his, and his tongue danced with hers, and the rush of that intimate touch, warm and wet, made his desire soar. He pulled her body harder into his. His hands skimmed her curves. He wanted to touch every inch of her flesh with his fingers. They were on fire with sensation. His mouth ached with the sweetness of her. He knew how this was done. He’d watched humans and angelings grapple and explore and plunge their bodies together, but he’s never felt it… not this way.
Not this need that eclipsed everything.
It would consume him.
Was she dreaming?
Even Charlotte’s wildest dreams about Tajael had never been this hot. This real. His rock hard body holding her tight. His mouth plundering hers, hungry for her. His muscles under her fingers like steel covered in silk. And his cock pressing into her… he was half-dressed already, and she ached for her own clothes to disappear… for him to bend her over the car and…
Suddenly, he wrenched loose from her grasp.
He’d stepped back and left her propped against the car, chest heaving, the hot press of his body just a memory replaced by the cold night air.
“Tajael?” She could hear the desperation in her voice.
His eyes were wild, his fists clenched. And now that he stood back from her… were those wings? Strange, mottled wings sprung from his back, the feathers a churning pattern of black and white that moved as if warring across his wingspan.
His wingspan. What the fuck?
And he was draped in some white toga that barely covered his chest, revealing not only the dragon tattoo she’d seen before but another tribal one splayed across his chest. His impressive erection tented out the small drape below his waist.
What kind of dream was this?
“No,” he growled.
But it wasn’t to her. Or maybe it was? Her head was swimming, her face full of heat. Her entire body thrummed with hot flashes of arousal. She’d never been so turned on in all her life. But then suddenly, everything in this crazy dream was going sideways. She braced herself against the car, so she didn’t fall over.
“Tajael, I…” Her voice was thick. She tried again. “I just want to be with you.”
“I can’t.” The anguish in his voice jolted her.
This was a dream, right? This hazy night lighting and the fuzz in her head and Tajael saying no to her… this was a nightmare, she decided. One she desperately wanted to wake from, but her legs were too wobbly for her to move. She clung to the car and swung her gaze to the trunk under her hands. Could she drive out of a nightmare? If she tried, would she wake up, panting in her bed?
The doors of the car stood open.
Then the memory of what happened flashed back to her. She had a new driver—not Max—and the thin, pasty man said he was his replacement. He was already driving away before she could protest. Then he pulled into this alley and demanded she get out… and then… and then…
> She fought back the shudders of revulsion.
She’d had kind of weird sex with him. In the alley. Fully clothed, but still… it was fuzzy. But she enjoyed it. Only she didn’t want to, but he forced her… it was all swirled up in her mind, but her stomach somehow knew the truth. She curled over and clutched it as it threatened to heave out its contents. And when she looked down…
She was covered in blood.
“Aaah!” She jerked back against the car, staring at her blood-covered hand.
Tajael still stood before her, his face a picture of anguish. But beyond him… holy fuck, it was the driver. Slumped on the ground, his body nearly sliced in half.
And then her knees did give out. They banged hard on the grit of the ground as she clung to the side of the car. She’d killed the driver. He’d raped her somehow, and for some horrible reason, her body had enjoyed it, and then, in a haze of rage, she’d attacked him in a fury so great that somehow she’d sliced him in half. Then she’d conjured this image of Tajael as her guardian angel—the paper one he made for her, come to life in her hallucinations—to protect her from what she’d done.
Holy shit, she was a murderer. And she’d lost her mind.
Her whole body started shaking and curling and cramping. She wanted to just roll up into a ball and disappear. Vanish like she’d gone to another dimension. One in which she hadn’t gone completely insane.
In the darkened alley, there was a sudden flash of light. And a pop in the air, like the cabin pressure equalizing when your plane comes down for a landing. Hazily, she looked up, to see what fresh horror was happening… but everything was gone.
Tajael was gone.
The driver’s body was gone.
Even the blood on her hand and her shirt was gone.
She was still curled up next to the car, but… what the hell was happening?
