His knuckles pounded the senator’s nose. Bone crunched, and the male cried out, falling to his knees. The other two senators backed up a few steps, unwilling to confront Bryant.
No honor among spoiled brats. Bryant snorted with derision. If he’d gotten decked, his team would’ve made sure the other guy was toast before finding out if Bryant had deserved it or not.
Blood welled through the senator’s fingers. He’d heal quickly, like their kind did. Bryant reckoned the damage to his ego was worse than a broken nose.
Bryant squatted down with his scarred side closest to the wounded senator, an intimidation tactic he never failed to use when appropriate. “Don’t ever talk about Odessa like that again.” His calm tone bordered on menacing.
He glared at the other two males until they nodded in understanding for their downed friend. Bryant clapped the bleeding senator on the shoulder before he stood and strode away, his flared wings as good as a middle finger.
* * *
Lovely, firm breasts bounced in Jameson Haddock’s face as his latest catch ground down on him. She was as sexy as they came, a black rose tattooed around each dusky rose nipple. The ink was the reason she’d made sure to take her miniscule top off before crawling on top of his dick and making his eyes cross. No complaints from him. She showed her dedication to his cause in several ways. The tattoos always pleased him, but this was oh, so much better.
“You like this, baby?” she said with a throaty purr.
Christy? Misty? Busty, that’s what he’d refer to her as until he knew for sure. Busty panted, gripping his shoulders as she rode him fast and hard. His preferred method of getting laid. Along with no chitchat.
He grunted his reply hoping Busty would get the message of no talky-talky. She flashed him a sultry grin, swiveled her hips, and leaned back to give him a clear view of where they were joined while still being able to see, and feel, those luscious breasts.
He was cupping the bountiful orbs when a sharp knock sounded on the door. To Busty’s credit, she didn’t slow her pace.
“Boss! I need to talk to you.” His assistant, Andy, was responsible for the interruption. If he wasn’t such an asset to Jameson’s team, he’d have a few teeth missing for interrupting a good lay.
Busty leaned forward, nibbling and licking his ear, as if the prospect of Andy walking in on them turned her on more.
“Boss?” Andy tried one more time.
“Wait!” Jameson yelled. Must be serious, but he was going to get his happy ending with the hot chick. And so was she. He had a reputation to protect.
Grabbing her waist, he took over. Lifting and smashing her down on him so he could arch his hips and thrust into her wet heat, hitting just the right spot to push Busty into orgasm. She moaned and writhed, loving how he took control. He wondered if she’d be a screamer, a gasper, or one of those that sounded like a dying moose in the middle of winter.
She let out a long keen right before she tightened and pulsated around his cock. Then the screams of yes, yes, yes! started and those lifted, gorgeous double-Ds shook and quivered in front of him. He was addicted to that shit—women’s bodies, the way they lost control, how they gripped him tight, giving him everything he wanted.
He was about to finish his ride over the cliff of climax when she reached behind her, grabbing him by the ball sac.
Fucking yes.
Throwing his head back with a roar, he gave in to his powerful release.
Who was the wounded moose now?
When he could finally see straight, he gazed into her clear aqua irises—a real color, unlike her bottle blond hair. She sensuously licked her bottom lip. “Want me to wait here until you’re done?”
Hell. Yes.
“Don’t get dressed,” Jameson growled, lifting her off.
He pulled up his slacks after throwing his condom in the trash. One never knew with these club girls. Some thought getting into the owner’s bed wasn’t enough, that a baby would be a direct line to the bank account. Jameson was religious about protection, and that was the only thing he was religious about these days. He was 99.9 percent sure he couldn’t impregnate a human female, but the tricky part would be explaining why to her—or her lawyer.
Once he was finished stuffing his ruby-red shirt back into his waistband and straightening his ink-black tie, he opted against throwing his suit coat on. After Andy updated him on whatever crisis had cropped up, he planned to come right back and bang Busty until she was too hoarse to scream. Then do her a few more times before he got some sleep.
Turning to watch his new woman of the week climb into his king-size bed, he admired the rounded curves of her ass and sleek muscles of her legs. She could be worth keeping around for a month or two if she had more sexual tricks to surprise him with. He might even endure the repeated questions that his scarred back inevitably incited just to strip down and spend the night dominating a woman’s body like he preferred.
He touched up with a dash of cologne that would cover the stench of sex and ran his hand through the brown hair that fell to his ears. Usually, he kept it slicked back to aid in the aura of power and authority his tailored suits, Italian shoes, and sports car suggested. Tonight, it hung loose, keeping his startling chartreuse eyes camouflaged. He had no need to throw his power around, at least for now. His little plan was in motion and gaining in momentum. All was well.
Unless Andy had news otherwise.
He strode down the expansive hallway a short distance to the main area of the penthouse over his club. Faint bass reverberated, the vibrations rippling under his feet. He could’ve paid for more insulation for the penthouse, but the beat soothed his nerves.
Turning into the meeting room, his gaze landed on his human assistant perched on the end of the table. The man’s trusty laptop was open in front of him, and the dull glow from the screen wasn’t doing any favors to his pale complexion.
“Mr. Haddock, I’m sorry to disturb you and Miss Sampson,” Andy started, but Jameson waved him off. Get to the point, and maybe drop Busty’s first name, too. Throw a guy a bone. “Our Numen contact brought me this.”
He turned a laptop toward Jameson, who didn’t bother to look at it, pinning Andy with his sharp gaze.
“It’s data,” Andy rushed on. “Written up by a Numen analyst. She’s not only onto how we recruit humans to do our bidding, but worse, she is investigating our signaling system, suspecting ties to Daemon. She notified her supervisor, and he approached our contact with the observations.”
Jameson drew in a deep, cleansing breath. Analysts. They were too smart for their own good. The fucking librarians of the angelic realm. If she was on to them, then the watcher whose notes the analyst combed through knew too much. Watchers did nothing but monitor humans all day.
His signaling system was simple. With humans, it didn’t need to be complex. All he needed to know was what they were willing to do with demons for him. The whys were never explained and most of his disciples didn’t care. The parties, the club, the sense of belonging—gullible. All of them.
But he was only in the early stages of his grand plans. His personal army wasn’t strong enough yet to go against Numen. Not the warriors they’d send if they found out about his club. They couldn’t discover anything yet. “Who else knows?”
“Besides the two analysts? The notes name a specific watcher female that requested a thorough investigation of her observations.”
Jameson headed to the bar to pour himself a Macallan on the rocks. He liked his whiskey like he liked his women. Mature and expensive. “Are the analysts synced?”
“The supervisor is not. The female just got mated, sir.” Andy cleared his throat. “To a warrior.”
Well, fuck.
Jameson took a drink, letting the smooth liquor burn its way down. “Take care of the supervisor. Make it look…” He let Andy fill in the blanks. “Dig up some dirt on the female analyst and get the watcher’s route here in Vegas. Who she’s following, where her subjects live, everythin
g. If they land in the human realm, we can get them there.”
“Very well, sir.” Andy’s fingers flew on the laptop.
Jameson let him be. Andy was an expert hacker, easily sneaking into Numen files with human technology, since that’s who the Numen learned their electronics from. Heading back to his bedroom, Jameson was glad Miss Sampson would be waiting for him. He had some…emotions…to rid himself of.
Three angels who were good at their jobs would not ruin his plans. He’d waited too long. Suffered even longer. His contact in Numen would deal with the analyst supervisor. As for the other two-winged bitches… There was nowhere they could hide.
Chapter 5
Odessa chose to walk home. The path from the elaborate marble work of art that was her workplace to her home was mostly quiet, even though the trek to her place took her through the business district. No place in Numen was noisy. The quaint stores in the pristine white marble shop were open during daytime and people meandered back and forth, but the overall atmosphere was relaxed. Congenial. The perfect background distraction to let her mind wander.
There was a lot to think about after dictating more notes on humans that had been seen with the ones she’d been studying at her boss, Cal’s, request. She had prepared a detailed report for him, but the male hadn’t been in the office today. Unusual for him as he was normally the first to arrive and the last to leave, especially this week. He’d been giving her more watcher’s reports and she’d been seeing patterns that she reported back to him. The intuition that made her a good analyst was screaming, but so far, only she and Cal knew there might be trouble.
She trusted him to learn for certain before he acted. Cal Estevan was meticulous and patient if nothing else. Perhaps she’d talk to him Monday. It was Friday, so why not do something different other than go home to a quiet house to clean some more. Even if Bryant was home, he wouldn’t do more than grunt at her and polish his weapons.
When he’d brought all his stuff to officially move in, he’d radiated rage. She’d asked if he was okay. He had looked as if he were going to ask her a question but just shook his head, gave her a curt “fine,” and continued ignoring her.
Odessa thought they had made progress. The past week, he seemed less incensed at her presence. She wondered if his animosity would decrease enough that they might hold a real conversation. On a positive note, Odessa had slept better all week than she’d had in years now that he lived under the same roof.
Shaking her head, not daring to get her hopes up, she lifted her face to the sky, grateful for the perpetually gorgeous weather. Until she saw her.
Someone so ethereally beautiful shouldn’t be that much of a bitch. Persephone Naasim had had it in for Odessa since boarding school, and Persephone was the worst thing that’d happened to Odessa since that night. With a mother just as powerful as Odessa’s father, Persephone thought she ruled the world. Or at least Numen. And she usually did.
Petite and curvy with obsidian hair, the males trailed after Persephone with tongues hanging, and the females wanted to be her. Both genders wanted the power that came with being the progeny of a powerful senator. What they didn’t know was that senators were never home, and work preoccupied them so much that when they were home, their mind was at work. At least that’s the way it was with Odessa’s father. And in the last fourteen years, he’d made sure to not be home as often as he could.
The first day of boarding school, when Odessa entered Persephone’s empire, the girl had recruited Odessa to be one of her groupies. Odessa had tried to fit in, but she was still too traumatized by the home invasion. She’d proven too embarrassing with her nightmares and anxiety attacks that Persephone shunned her.
Boarding school, to use one of her favorite human monikers, sucked ass. Odessa had been glad to graduate early and move on to analyst training.
“Odessa,” Persephone called with sugary sweetness, her arms held out for a faux hug and kiss-kiss. “How are you doing, my dear? You don’t look a day over thirty.”
Odessa refrained from rolling her eyes, not mentioning the fact that, like Persephone, she was only twenty-five.
“I am well. How is your mother?”
Persephone’s nostrils flared with hostility. “She’s well, also, thank you for asking.”
The angel’s mother was a gem—for a senator. Odessa held Persephone’s mother in high regard; she’d been nothing but genuine with Odessa. Even after Odessa’s mother died, when other family friends looked the other way, Senator Naasim had always been someone she could talk to. The senator stopped in to talk, and whenever she’d come to the boarding school to visit Persephone, she’d always check up on Odessa. She suspected that was a major reason why Persephone was such a raging hag to her.
A couple of young angels Odessa recognized as Persephone’s simpering groupies appeared as if they’d just happened upon them. Did they run in packs all day looking for some poor soul to humiliate?
Duh. Of course they did. There was a reason why other angels didn’t care for the political crowd. Had Odessa been foolish to think life outside of school would be different? Or had it only been practice?
“Tell me again, what duty did you decide on?” Odessa smiled serenely like her mother had taught her and attempted to sound sincere. She knew Persephone had applied to be an angelic messenger but couldn’t perform well enough for even her family’s influence to help get her in. She was probably watcher material, but most likely felt it beneath her station to spy all day. The irony was that’s what she did all day in Numen.
“Oh, aren’t you sweet to ask about me. I should be asking about you and that warrior you got for yourself. How’s that working out?” Before Odessa could formulate a response, Persephone displayed her figurative claws and spoke in a loud whisper. “I mean, I heard your sync hasn’t even been consummated yet.”
Persephone’s groupies cleared their throats and glanced away. Even they felt bad for Odessa. She should’ve never gone looking for Bryant at the barracks. Now everyone knew he avoided her, and the talk turned to speculation about their status as a couple. It was humiliating because the petty angel was right. Bryant hadn’t so much as held her hand.
“I can’t imagine why my sync life is of any news.”
A shadow fell in next to her and when she thought she couldn’t be any more humiliated, Bryant rested an arm around her shoulder. No doubt he’d heard it all, and as much as she wanted to lean into his strong embrace, Persephone’s gossip hit hard.
“There you are.” He lightly kissed her on the forehead. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Was he joking? She gave him a look with that question written all over it.
“Friends of yours?” he inquired innocently.
Odessa looked over at the angelic “it” crowd. Persephone with her short robe and bared shoulder eyed Bryant like she wanted to devour him. He was oblivious, like he assumed no one would want to look at him because of his scars. That made Odessa feel immensely better, even if he was clueless to any female attention because he assumed his scars turned them off.
He didn’t understand how intoxicating his masculinity was. His wings were always held tall and flared slightly. When his amber gaze landed on her, she was certain she was the only thing that mattered. So at odds with how he treated her.
Then there was his body—a work of art. In his warrior clothing, the long-sleeved, form-fitting shirt enhanced broad shoulders and pecs carved of stone. Black pants hugged a narrow waist and tapered over a hard butt and thighs that marble statues would envy.
The looks he was so doubtful of? It didn’t take long to not notice his scars. When she did, it was only to fantasize about running her fingers over the gentle ridges on his cheek and scalp, maybe use her tongue to…
Bryant lifted an eyebrow and she realized she must be staring at him the way she’d ogle a lollipop. Back to his question. Friends of hers?
“We all went to school together but lost track after graduation.” For good reason. “No
w if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to enjoy this beautiful evening.” She didn’t address anyone in general, just walked away.
Persephone wouldn’t be happy by Odessa’s departure. The other female was never the one getting dismissed. Her powerful senator parentage made her quite the commodity in social circles. What better way to change policies than to nag the children of senators?
Not Odessa.
Her father was not a well-liked senator and she knew why he’d made the decisions he had. It broke her heart, and as much as she wished he’d throw his wings back and defy their circumstances, she was just as grateful he hadn’t. His actions had kept them safe.
Bryant’s long strides quickly caught up with her. She should have grabbed his hand when she walked off, made a good show for her old classmates, but Odessa was sick of playing pretend. She’d been doing it for years.
“Want to tell me what that was about?” It was the first sentence he’d spoken to her that wasn’t hostile or full of disdain.
“Not really.” She repressed the urge to spread her wings and rise to the sky. The extra visibility flying gave her was the main reason she avoided it.
He kept quiet walking next to her. Like the night he’d brought his stuff to her house—their house—she sensed he had a question.
“What?” she snapped.
“What?” He lifted his brows, startled by her abruptness.
“I can tell you want to ask me something. What is it?” Odessa tired of the games angels played. If her mate couldn’t be open and honest with her, even if he disliked her and her station in society, then she’d find the nearest cleric to absolve their bond. Like Persephone had pointed out, they hadn’t consummated it yet. It’d take nothing but a few divine words and they could part ways.
“I ran into a young senator earlier this week. He inquired about you.”
Odessa’s eyelids drifted closed for a few steps and she dragged in a calming inhale. How could one walk home become a walk of shame so terribly fast?
Angel Fire: Angel Fire, Book 1 Page 4
