Angel Fire: Angel Fire, Book 1

by Johnston, Marie

  “I see. Was it Crestin?” Saying his name brought back all the feelings of clinginess and shame.

  “I, uh, didn’t get properly introduced.”

  “Let me save you the trouble, everything he said was likely true.”

  “Which part, you being needy or being great in bed?”

  Odessa whipped her head around. “He said that?” she hissed.

  Bryant’s mouth twitched with a suppressed laugh. Was her personal mortification all it took to lighten him up?

  Squaring her shoulders, lifting her downy wings higher, she ignored the last part. “He was my first long-term relationship and, yes, I may have been a little clingy.”

  More than a little. She had wanted to be around him every minute of every day. It was the first time she’d been on her own, which terrified her just as much as living with a bunch of strangers at school.

  “I’m sure he found it inconvenient to have to put in any effort into a relationship he only wanted to use to gain status.”

  Bryant grunted but didn’t say any more. He probably already suspected Crestin’s reasons behind his declarations of love for her. Everyone had. Even Odessa knew that Crestin’s bid for senator would go over better if he was dating the daughter of one. At the time, she thought it was better than being alone. At least she’d had a reprieve from constant terror.

  “I have to work in the field tomorrow.” Bryant’s accent was soft, not as pronounced as when he was irritated with her. Which seemed to be all the time.

  Odessa nodded and peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. He never told her his work schedule. She’d mentioned hers, hoping he would want to adjust his to be with his new mate. But then, she had plans. Like a non-needy female.

  They reached the house and he opened the door for her. “Tell me again why you don’t have servants?”

  Servants were the angels who held no other title, had no duties that’d grant them access to the human realm, and basically just wanted something to do with their lives. Some worked and waited patiently until they were synced and could leave to raise their own families. Some liked the proximity to the upper echelons of Numen society and the latest realm news. It didn’t matter the motivation, Odessa didn’t want them around.

  “I have no need for them,” she answered.

  Bryant bristled at her lack of elaboration.

  Sighing, she headed toward the kitchen. “I’ll get some supper ready.”

  He followed, and they prepped their meal together. If Odessa wanted to delude herself, she’d say this felt right, puttering around the massive kitchen with him, digging food out and grabbing plates. There was no meat in Numen. Agriculture was limited to growing fruits, vegetables, and grains. Livestock in their mystical realm added too many complications with space and feed and…manure. Which was unfortunate. She’d love to whip up a stellar chicken parmesan.

  As they sat for their meal and began to eat, Odessa figured she’d throw him a bone and make small talk since he’d been trying earlier.

  Bryant was naturally closed off and quiet, but when she asked about his team, his face became more animated and his rough voice was lighter. “There’s seven of us—there’s always seven warriors in a team.”

  Ah yes. Humans aren’t the only ones to give numbers meaning. The holy trinity meant three must be a good number, or that thirteen was bad luck. So seven, a divine number to go with why they’re were called Numen. Because they were the power presiding over the safety of the human race. She smiled at his enthusiasm.

  He continued. “They’re my family. Jagger, Bronx, and Urban are males I’d lay down my life for and the females are closer than sisters. Harlowe and Sierra are younger than me, along with Jagger and Bronx. Urban and Dionna are close to my age.”

  Spearing a bean, Odessa thought about what he said. “That’s why none have found sync mates yet? They’re all pretty young.”

  “Warriors mate fairly young. Keeps us in the field longer to have the healing aid of a mating bond.” Bryant pushed food around his plate before answering her. “Possibly. We’ve gotten into some dangerous situations, but healing hasn’t been a problem. Yet. I’m sure their time will come soon enough.” He pushed up and grabbed his dishes to wash them. “Unless we take too many risks, then we get assigned mates so we can heal and be more cautious. Once the children start coming, some warriors retire or become trainers.”

  Odessa waited until she was done chewing before getting up to help with the dishes. Stepping in next to Bryant, she set down her plates. He turned to get something off the counter. She side-stepped, and he tried to do the same, but they ended up inches away, facing each other.

  She was about to say her pardon and sidle out, but his hot look froze her in place.

  Good Lord, was he about to kiss her?

  Cemented, she waited in breathless anticipation as he dropped his head down. Her eyes fluttered closed right before his lips landed on hers. He was hesitant at first. She didn’t get the impression that was normal, but he pressed gently. His arms wrapped around her waist, drawing her close, until she was fully against his hard body.

  Holy angel fire, he was delectable. Defined muscle rippled under her hands as she slid them around his shoulders. His kiss deepened and a rumble of approval vibrated through his chest.

  His tongue swept into her mouth, weakening her knees. The male could kiss. Molten passion flooded her senses at the feel of him, the taste, all male with hints of the supper they had shared.

  Bryant fitted his hands around her waist and lifted her up to sit on the counter where she leaned over him and circled her legs around his back. The movement drew her to the edge of the counter and tugged him closer. The hard length of him straining against his pants made her want to rub against him oh so bad, but her position on the counter made it difficult. What his mouth was doing to her… He skimmed his hands up her rib cage to gently cup her breasts.

  She floated her hands up to touch the sharp stubble of his scalp and the warm ridges of his scars. The uneven planes of his skin played under fingers.

  He pulled away from her mouth, trailing kisses down her neck, which she bared and arched into his searing mouth. Kisses burned a path down her collarbone, to her chest. Finally, he was heading for the opening of her robe.

  “Odessa,” he whispered against her skin, “let’s consummate our sync.”

  Oh yes.

  Oh, wait. Odessa’s eyelids flew open and she pulled back. Bryant brought his head up, his brow creased at her sudden stiffness, his lips parted with panting breath.

  “Did you hear what Persephone asked me?” Was that what all this was about? He felt sorry for her and was willing to sleep with her because she’d been embarrassed by a vapid, insulting female who was of no consequence?

  He scowled. “Yes, I heard what she said, but—”

  Odessa jerked her hands off his head and shoved him. He stumbled back, sporting a confused expression.

  “I’m not going to be a pity fuck.”

  “A pity fuck?” He shook his head, his expression lit with shock at her use of profanity. “Where did you learn that term?”

  She blew off his question and hopped down from the counter. None of his business. If he had so much as tried to get to know her in the last week, maybe she would’ve told him about how she spent her weekends and about Harper.

  She stormed out of the kitchen.

  “Odessa!”

  “Leave me alone, Bryant,” she called over her shoulder. “I might be afraid of the dark. It might have made me desperate enough to sync with a stranger. One that seems to hate me, no less. But I refuse to give up any more of my dignity today.”

  She was halfway up the opulent staircase by the time he stalked out of the kitchen. Normally, she might have hoped he’d follow her, even beg for forgiveness. Not tonight! Humiliation churned in her gut and her disappointment weighed on her like a mantle of fatigue. She couldn’t deal with the aggravating male.

  Odessa slammed her door shut and stom
ped to her nightstand. After digging her phone out from under her unmentionables, she texted the closest thing to a best friend she could claim.

  Code Boots On!

  Duck yeah!

  Before she could text an inquiry as to what that meant, Harper sent a follow-up. Odessa’s lips curved into a much-needed smile.

  Fucking autocorrect.

  Chapter 6

  Bryant tried to unwind by flying back to Odessa’s mansion after work.

  He didn’t know if he’d ever get to a point where he could claim the mansion as his. Since he hadn’t sealed his sync yet… He winced at the reminder of the previous night’s events.

  Pity fuck? How could she think that? But he wasn’t stupid, and neither was she. He had felt bad when the spoiled git of a senator verbally debased his mate. Odessa had looked so resigned, so…relatable after her run-in with that vile Persephone. The female had broken many warrior’s hearts by stringing them along, then using her birth status to ditch them. Maybe that was why he let his guard down, even though Odessa was clearly hiding something. More than one something, considering her language. Human profanity was not common in those raised in the angelic realm. Where the bloody hell had she picked it up?

  Perhaps from that inadequate male, Crestin. Angels like him thought the human realm was their playground and they’d make several trips in their youth to mess about. But Bryant didn’t want to dwell on Odessa’s time with Crestin—or how good she was in bed with him.

  He wanted to growl.

  Approaching the mansion, he spotted two male angels standing on the doorstep. They wore the standard long gowns and peered through the stained glass in the ornate door. One was taller but wiry, and the shorter one had to have half the muscle mass of Bryant.

  Bryant landed silently behind them. “What do you want?”

  The angels started and jumped back from their inspection. They passed each other a worried look before addressing Bryant.

  Bryant twitched his wings in irritation.

  The smaller of the two spoke first. “Warrior, we are looking for Odessa Montclaire. It seems she is not home and we have an urgent message.”

  An urgent message for an analyst? Or was something wrong with Odessa’s family? And why did he want to growl that it was Odessa Vale?

  “Do you know where we can find her?” the other angel inquired. The tall angel’s narrow, dusty wings matched the shade of his hair.

  No, Bryant didn’t know where Odessa would be if she wasn’t home. Yes, he should, because he was her mate.

  “You checked her place of work, of course.” Bryant couldn’t imagine where else she might be, but the truth was, he didn’t know her at all. Did she have hobbies? Interests? He’d always assumed the children of pompous senators sat around discussing how amazing they were and plotting about how to interfere with other people’s lives. Oddly, he couldn’t picture Odessa doing that.

  Where could she be?

  “We’re coworkers of hers and she doesn’t normally work weekends,” the shorter angel replied.

  The tall angel looked to Bryant, who remained impassive, as if that information wasn’t a surprise. The male tapped his fingers together while waiting for Bryant to suggest other places to look.

  “Why don’t you pass the message to me? I’ll let Odessa know.” Bryant phrased it like a question. It was anything but, which twitched the angel’s wings in agitation. “I’m her mate,” Bryant added. There was something else going on here. His appearance made others fearful, edgy even, but these males had been anxious before he arrived.

  The two visitors exchanged looks and finally the wiry one inclined his head.

  “I’m afraid we need to inform Odessa that her supervisor was found deceased today in his home.”

  Ah. If the males worked with Odessa, no wonder they were upset. “I’ll let her know.”

  “We need her to contact us immediately.” The small one opened his mouth like he was going to elaborate, but the other shook his head in warning.

  Drawing himself up to his full height, wings splayed, Bryant folded his arms across his chest. “What’s going on, gents?” A little intimidation never hurt anyone.

  Wiry stuttered his denial. Bryant raised an eyebrow—on the damaged side of his face—until the angel fell silent.

  “The thing is,” the tall angel began, “the enforcers say he drank the fire.”

  Bryant inwardly flinched. He knew the kiss of angel fire well, had inhaled the fumes. He sounded like he brushed his vocal cords with sandpaper every morning because of it. Agony was too weak a word to describe his experience with the fire.

  “But you don’t agree?” he asked. Enforcers were the police force of their kind, and they investigated deaths within the realm. If they said he drank the fire, no one argued, and it wasn’t an unusual occurrence.

  Numen angels were always given an out from their long immortal lives. Some walked into the fountain of angel fire situated in the middle of the realm. Some kept a vial on hand, for protection, or because they’d been thinking about the end.

  “I wouldn’t say we disagree,” the small one hedged.

  These two fit the analyst stereotype of desk-bound, anxiety-ridden intellectuals. It didn’t change the fact that they were probably wicked smart. If the angels didn’t think this supervisor killed himself, then there was probably a good chance he hadn’t.

  Bryant carefully rephrased his next question. “Would you agree that someone made him drink it?”

  Both males paled and exchanged another wrought look. Murder wasn’t common in Numen and the angels residing here often thought themselves above the actions that invited violence. Many forgot how powerful rage, anger, and jealousy could be. Or the need for survival, when one found themselves on the receiving end of such emotions.

  “It’s just that Cal always took his work home. He was the most dedicated analyst we knew.” The wiry angel’s gaze darted around, checking for any eavesdroppers, which was absurd in Odessa’s neighborhood. Acres and a million trees separated her from the next dwelling. “When we asked the enforcer for Cal’s notes to be returned, he said there were none.”

  “Maybe he didn’t take any home because he was planning to end it,” Bryant suggested.

  The short male bobbed his head. “Exactly what we thought at first. Until we came to break the news to Odessa.” His gaze flitted to his buddy’s. “Then we remembered seeing him talking with her before he left—the last time we saw him. She was handing over a stack of notes she’d made on her observations and Cal seemed so serious.”

  “He was always serious,” the taller male rushed in, “but this was just…so much more. Cal acted uneasy and dismayed. Something was weighing heavily on him.”

  An analyst’s entire life revolved around looking for threats against their people. If these two nerdy males thought something was wrong…

  Where was Odessa?

  Bryant’s heart threatened to crawl into his throat. “The enforcers haven’t talked to Odessa?”

  “No, the enforcer on the case talked to Bill and I,” answered the short one. “Asked if we had seen her. I’m assuming they already tried stopping by.”

  Bryant scanned the area. He had thought the action futile when Bill had done it, but now it made sense. Odessa was one of the last to see her boss alive and any material she’d passed on to him was gone. His intuition said she wasn’t involved in anything nefarious…yet there was her hateful father and the secrets she hid.

  Where was Odessa?

  “When you see Odessa, can you ask her to come talk with Davon and I?” Bill lifted a shoulder in resignation, his wings drooping slightly. “Regardless of what’s going on, I’m in charge now. She’ll need to update me, and…I need to know if I’m in danger.”

  Bryant needed to know if Odessa was in danger. The thought of one glossy strand of hair on her head being harmed made his wings shake. He might not like her—much—or the family she came from, but he’d rip anyone limb from limb and dip their wing
s in a batter of angel fire before they touched his mate.

  Davon paled and stepped back. Bill lifted his wings, preparing to take flight. Bryant must look murderous, frightening the males, and he sought to calm himself by sucking in a long breath. “I’ll find Odessa. Then we’ll find out what’s going on.”

  * * *

  Concentrating, Bryant descended to the human realm. It was a skill he wasn’t granted until he’d become a warrior. His parents posed as missionaries on Earth and he’d been at their mercy to travel back and forth, but he’d learned to respect the responsibility of keeping their kind’s secret from humans. The consequences were severe and unalterable.

  Before he’d dressed for walking among the human realm, he’d folded his wings into his back. Another skill his kind was granted. With his wings morphed, his back looked like any other human’s. He’d built his tolerance and could maintain a morph for days with no ill effects other than a mild ache between his shoulder blades.

  He descended to a secluded spot in a shopping mall in Dallas, Texas. Never had he been so grateful for his familiarity with the human world. He’d traveled long and far enough that he had many approved places to land when he arrived in the realm.

  Bryant strode purposefully through the corridors. Few people milled about as it was near closing time. His footsteps were soundless on the marble floor. A black ball cap with a Cowboys logo was drawn down to conceal his face and scars. He ducked his head and tucked his arms into his brown bomber jacket. Since he was in a shopping mall, he kept it simple in a black T-shirt and jeans and black boots.

  He had made a concerning discovery of glitter-laden human clothing while searching Odessa’s dresser. Not glitter decorated clothing, but glitter on her clothing. Frowning, he had pawed through the drawers and searched pockets for any sign of where she might be. He had even found an undergarment drawer. It had been…an awakening…searching through tiny scraps of vibrantly colored cloth that were considered underwear. Brassieres with dainty, lacy cups and narrow straps. How in the world they were expected to contain Odessa’s impressive bust, he had no clue, but he was suddenly, insatiably curious.