To Sandeen’s relief, after an hour making the woman scream in passion until her voice broke, the male laid down next to her, eventually falling asleep.
Concentrating hard, Sandeen targeted the woman. After her exertion, she’d be weakened, both physically, and perhaps mentally. After what Sandeen had just seen, her mental guards should be weakened.
She resisted. Most did. But she was tired, broke, and had let a man she just met have his way with her. And God help her, she hoped he’d do it again. Sandeen shuddered and ignored her pleas to her lord. He shushed her soul’s worries. His intent wasn’t a targeted evil at the woman. He just wanted to use her for a little errand.
With a deep breath, her body gave in and he entered, molding himself into her petite form. It wasn’t the first time he’d inhabited a woman, sometimes the circumstances called for it. Each time was a bit disconcerting. The emotional roller coaster, the extra flesh in places he wasn’t accustomed to, and not enough flesh in places he was. Remembering to sit down to pee was the hardest adjustment.
Rolling deftly out of bed, he grabbed the lamp from the nightstand. The angel woke at the movement.
Time to move.
Sandeen grabbed the bedside lamp and swung. The base whacked the side of the male’s head. He went limp and Sandeen found the discarded pile of the angel’s clothing and sifted through them.
Ultimate score.
Not one, but two blades. One a small weapon resembling a switchblade. That one would go to Jameson. The other, a four-inch curved blade. It was small but wicked and effective. That one he would keep for himself. He had a few ideas regarding Numen weaponry and Jameson’s blood and couldn’t wait to test them. Like Jameson, Sandeen suspected there were other uses for them since their gear could cross through all the realms.
He worked on dressing his host’s body but gave up after fumbling with the bra. How did they get their arms to bend back like that? His host was old enough that her breasts hung low and flat. He’d just cross his arms or something. Once he was presentable, he tucked the weapon under his shirt and left.
He’d need to find a new host, definitely a dude, but not until he got far away from here. Then he could make an exchange with Jameson—the blade for some blood—and get to experimenting.
* * *
“This is where they drop them?” Odessa wrapped her sweater tighter around herself, looking around at the dismal setting.
It was chilly in the evenings in London at this time of year. Bryant had planted them as close as he could to the area where the fallen had been dumped. Then, using his knowledge of London’s transit system, he got them even closer. They walked the rest of the way, which helped keep her warm.
Bryant was wearing the same clothes as when he had found her at the store, and somehow managed to look even better. The brim of his ball cap was pulled down. He must walk like that whenever he was in the human realm.
“If he spent a lot of time here, yeah. This bloke was a warrior that set off an explosion when confronting a possession. He didn’t do his homework, went in for the kill, but the demon had been waiting for him. The fallen lost his wings about five years ago.”
Odessa shuddered, and it wasn’t from the cold. “That could happen to any of you.”
“No, it couldn’t.” Bryant said it with such confidence it didn’t sound arrogant. “If a warrior does the proper investigation and recon, they know exactly when to confront the demon and where to do it.”
Bryant’s statement brought up a question Odessa’d had since she’d known him. After his chilly treatment of her, she hadn’t dared ask. Maybe their relationship was at a place where he’d open up to her.
Might as well try.
“Bryant, why did you have a sync gala?”
“The director was going to take me off duty otherwise.”
Odessa gave him a sharp look. Yeah, he’d told her that before. “Why?”
Bryant’s lips thinned. “Because I probably would’ve been another scroll in the bucket. I was getting careless, cutting corners, putting humans at risk.”
Odessa wanted to ask why again, but waited.
“I was…angry.” He shrugged. “About everything.”
Odessa’s heart wrenched. “Losing your mate?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. It’s weird, I guess. I didn’t know her, but her death was my fault.” He adjusted his cap and shoved his hand into his coat pocket. Talking about this was uncomfortable. “I know it was an accident and all that nonsense, but she stopped dead on a busy street when she saw my face.”
“She lived on Earth, Bryant. It’s not like in Numen, where we all look like we’re on covers of humans’ magazines. Earth has variety. People are different, scarred, missing limbs, unable to use limbs. Humans don’t heal completely. They have acne scars, pierced everything, bad hair days. She wouldn’t have still lived on Earth if she didn’t see the beauty in that. Maybe she stopped because she didn’t want to leave. Maybe she stopped because she wasn’t ready to commit to a mate for centuries. Maybe she was scared she wasn’t strong enough to heal you. You don’t know why she did what she did.”
Bryant considered her words for a moment, but resolutely shook his head. “She acted the same as everyone in Numen.”
Odessa didn’t want to let him get away with thinking the worst, but she didn’t have much for rebuttal. They could be a vain race.
“Perhaps those people are acting more like my father when he sent me and Felicia off to school. He moved out of the mansion when mother…”—dammit they were being honest here—“killed herself.”
How liberating. Their people said “walked into the fire.” That made it sound so serene, so brave. In her mother’s case, it wasn’t. She had run from her problems and never returned. Perhaps Bryant’s first destined mate had done the same thing. Perhaps not, but he couldn’t take the blame any more than Odessa could.
She feathered her fingers over the scars on his cheeks. “They don’t like being confronted with evidence that we have vulnerabilities and bad things can happen to us, so they choose to look the other way. I finally had to realize I had done nothing wrong. The problem was with my parents and how they chose to help me and Felicia, which was by not helping us. Just like there’s nothing wrong with how you look. The issue is with the asshats that turn the other way.”
His mouth twitched. “Asshats?”
“I learned a few things at the children’s store.”
Humor lit his face.
His phone vibrated. End of conversation, but at least she’d said her part.
He checked the screen. “Sierra sent a picture of the fallen we’re looking for. He must’ve gotten into some trouble because he’s in the human system. She found his name, Gregor Franklin, in a London Police database. Fallen don’t tend to change their name, it’s the only thing they have left.”
“Is the address close by?”
Bryant punched it into the map app. “A few blocks away.”
He clasped her hand, and they headed in the direction the map showed. She wanted to smile to herself. He didn’t seem to notice that he’d automatically reached for her. Bryant Vale wasn’t a male predisposed to PDAs, and while he tried to maintain his distance around her, he couldn’t stop himself. Odessa rather liked that. Especially since he hadn’t lost the undercurrent of tension, like he was waiting on her eventual rejection of him. She would have to prove that, like him, she couldn’t help herself, either. And if she could, she wouldn’t want to.
A square brick building was where the pin on the app had pointed them.
“A homeless shelter.” An angel living among the humans with no home. Her kind helped people like this; they didn’t become them. Logically, she understood that the angel had lost his wings for a reason, but it was just so…final. Devastating.
Bryant studied their surroundings before entering. Odessa expected a dark, dingy corridor lined with hopeless mounds of sleeping homeless, but the place had a softly lit, clean entry. A young woman an
d male, close to Odessa’s age, chatted idly in an office close to the front door.
They stopped when they noticed Bryant and Odessa. The woman smiled politely. “How can I help you?”
Bryant took the lead, flashing the picture on his phone. “We’re looking for my uncle. Last heard he might be here.”
The woman peered at the picture. “Looks like Frankie, yeah?” she asked her coworker.
The guy took his turn studying the picture. “That must be an old picture, but I’d say that’s Frankie.”
“Is he here?” Bryant asked.
The two workers exchanged a look. The woman cleared her throat. “I’m sorry to tell you, he passed away several months ago. Died of exposure.”
“Tragedy.” Bryant’s response was brusque, with a touch of sadness. “I thought I’d try to help him one more time, but I’m too late.”
The male stood to shake his hand. “It’s still nice to see the poor bloke had someone who cared. He seemed so lost and alone.”
They were here because they cared all right—cared to make sure the fallen wasn’t planning to amass an army for attack. “Frankie” made a mistake, and it cost him everyone and everything. Guilt ate at Odessa. Frankie wasn’t the fallen they were looking for. He’d suffered and died.
Bryant thanked the employees for their help, commented on the importance of their work, and towed her out of the building. Once they were back out in the chilly night air, he led her back in the direction they had come.
“The next one was also dropped in London, so hopefully we don’t need to go far.”
Bryant wasn’t going to dwell on the tragic end to Mr. Franklin. Odessa wouldn’t forget the fallen, but she had to move on.
If only it were that easy.
The street they were on was quiet, only a few people littering the sidewalk. They’d gone about a block when he steered her into a hidden nook between two buildings.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She was surprised he’d noticed her mood. “It’s just that… That poor warrior…”
“A lot of fallen give up. Some can’t take not living as an angel. Many can’t figure out how to gather resources and survive down here. Maybe a demon saw he was a weak target. To them a fallen Numen is better than no Numen.”
“What would you do if you fell?” The possibility was real. Her kind fell. Bryant had admitted how close he’d been to making a fatal mistake that could’ve cost him his wings.
Bryant responded with a question. “What would you do if I fell?”
Odessa blinked. Bryant was too good to fall. “Find you and beat you for messing up and leaving me.”
He chuckled. She got to see his smile again, no matter how limited it was.
He cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. “You surprise the hell out of me, Odessa.”
She turned her face into his hand, enjoying the touch of his skin. He brought his lips to hers for a tender kiss she eagerly returned.
The kiss was deepening when they heard a shout from across the street. “Crikey, get a room!”
Bryant broke the kiss and glanced at the shouter. It originated from a group of young males laughing and weaving down the sidewalk away from them.
He pulled his phone out. “I’m going to update Sierra.”
He wrapped his free arm around her while he sent the message. She assumed it was so they couldn’t be seen so easily by the next group of passersby. They may not be as harmless as the last. But she hoped it was because he wanted to hold her close.
When he was done, he looked around. The street was empty.
“Come on. I have a place to wait.” He whisked them away.
Chapter 22
Landing on the deck of a darkened flat, Bryant waited for Odessa’s questions.
She spun slowly around, taking in the small unit containing well-used, mismatched furniture. Nearly the whole apartment could be viewed in a full turn, from the tiny galley kitchen to the bedroom that barely held more than a queen mattress.
“Yours?” she asked.
“My parents keep it for me so I always have an empty place to descend to in an emergency. The landing is narrow and not good for relaxing, but it’s perfect for a Numen.” He shrugged out of his coat and held his hand out for her sweater. He hoped she wouldn’t mind staying here while they waited for information about where to go next. His place wasn’t a mansion. “When I’m forced to take vacation, I stay here.”
Odessa cast a knowing look his way and handed over her sweater. The tee underneath plastered against her breasts. He could barely look away.
“Not for sex.” He interpreted her expression, and she lifted a brow. “It wouldn’t do me any good if a woman came searching for me and saw me wandering around with my wings hanging out.”
Odessa gave a theatrical gasp. “Bryant Vale leaves his wings hanging out on Earth?”
He scowled at her, dangerously close to cracking another smile. He seemed to be doing that a lot around her without even trying.
“Go ahead and bust your own set out if you need to. The blinds are drawn and we’re five stories up anyway.” He checked his phone. “Sierra said she needs a little time to research the next fallen, but she’s onto something.”
“Have the others made any progress yet?” Odessa asked, going to the kitchen cabinets.
She must be searching for food. He should’ve taken her someplace better.
“Nothing yet. We lucked out.”
He winced at how callous his words sounded. The incident had shaken Odessa up. Bryant knew the drill. If a warrior was smart, they had a fallback plan. Demons could be tricky and goad warriors into acts that cost them their wings. The longer an angel was a warrior, the more they thought they were indestructible. Arrogance had cost more than one. No, if he fell, he had his flat and some money stashed away. He wouldn’t be Frankie.
Opening the fridge, Odessa looked inside. She peered at the containers. “When was the last time you were here?”
“Before the gala. Why?”
“I think you need to do a clean sweep in the fridge. There’s some pretty fuzzy food.”
Ah, damn. His parents checked on the place, but he stocked it with food. With Odessa, he didn’t know how often he’d come back.
He’d missed his tiny flat. The barracks had been adequate, and he’d been around his team, but this was the only home he’d had for years. It saddened him to think he’d hardly ever hang out here again.
“I like it here,” she announced, as if she’d read his mind.
Closing the fridge door after she pulled out a couple bottles of water and set them on the counter. Her attention turned back to the cupboards until she found a box of unopened crackers.
“You like London?” he asked for clarification.
Odessa sat on the sofa and dished out the spread like it was a romantic dinner. Crackers and water. He should have more to offer her.
“Both. I’d love to see London during the day, but I like this place.” She waved around the small flat. “I didn’t catch the view when we landed.”
Since they both still had their wings morphed, Bryant opened the drapes. “It’s spectacular.”
With an excited inhale, Odessa jumped up and ran to stand next to him. “Oh, it’s beautiful. Just like all the stars we see at home, but lower.”
He might not have much to give, but he could give her this. Pinpricks of glow coming through the window danced over her face.
She smiled over at him and his heart stuttered. Breathtaking.
“Let’s have our crackers and get some rest.”
His cock twitched in response, because her sexy smile suggested there’d be more to their rest than sleeping.
Hell, yes. He needed to rest.
* * *
Bryant’s phone rang, waking him to the pleasant feeling of a lush bottom snuggled into his side. He grabbed his cell off the end table and sat up so he could sound more businesslike. Not like he’d just been thoroughly sexed by the
most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on.
“Hey, boss,” Sierra greeted. “I figured this deserved a call.”
“Tell me what you’ve got.” Bryant put the phone on speaker so Odessa, who had woken from his movement, could hear, too.
Sierra cleared her throat. He could picture her in the little apartment she kept in Manhattan, with her booted feet propped up on her desk, her cargo pants untucked. Her face would be lit by the three large monitors she liked to do her hacking on, and a Bluetooth would be secured in her ear. She was a talented computer expert. Bryant didn’t always share the extent of her abilities with Director Richter.
“I could find nothing of Junie Perez. I mean, nothing since her fall eleven years ago. But check it. Her mate, Mathias Perez, has a house not far from where she was dumped.”
Interesting. Bryant had a few questions but knew better than to interrupt Sierra. It usually earned him a caustic remark.
“Did he have the place before or after she lost her wings?” Sierra echoed his unspoken question. “Before. Get this. He’s a chaperone, yet he had money saved up and claimed they were going to buy a house before she lost her wings. He said they were going to do missionary work on their downtime. But after she fell, he purchased it anyway.”
Junie Perez had been an excellent warrior, but she fell into a trap a savvy archmaster had set for her. She sprung the trap, which killed the demon’s host and his entire family. Her fall had hit all the warriors hard, reminding them that even good angels could make irrevocable mistakes.
“I’ll send you the addy and an image straight off Google maps. Dude’s still a chaperone. Once you think about it, it can be a work-from-home job. He doesn’t need to be in Numen to get the message a soul needs transport. His records say he was too distraught after losing his mate, he had to create some distance from the home they had made together.”
Angel Fire: Angel Fire, Book 1 Page 21
