Redemption: A Realm of Flame and Shadow Novel

by Christina Phillips

  “Where did your mother get the necklace?”

  “My Lord, I fail to see how the origin of a necklace can have any bearing on—”

  “Answer the question.”

  Aurora curled her fingers around his arm. “Gabe,” she said softly. “Ask him if his ancestors came from Earth.”

  He relayed the question, even though it was unlikely Jaylar had even heard of the planet.

  “No.” There was a thread of defiance in Jaylar’s tone, as though he expected Gabe to take issue with his denial. Not that he would. How could anyone in the Andromeda Galaxy have ancestors from Earth?

  Then Jaylar shot Aurora another glance and appeared to reconsider. “But our family history has always hinted that our esteemed demigoddess ancestor spent time on that far-flung planet before she settled on Medana. The necklace originates from her. We’ve always believed it was forged by the gods themselves.”

  As Gabe translated for Aurora, he trawled through ancient memories. In those enlightened days, before the great devastation had ravaged Earth, many resident demigods and goddesses had taken archangels as their lovers.

  But it still didn’t answer the vital question. How had Jaylar’s ancestor been in possession of a such a precious artifact?

  “He’s almost right about the necklace,” Aurora said. “Except it wasn’t forged by gods, but by archangels.”

  “And Jaylar’s descended from the gods, not archangels,” he reminded her. “It doesn’t explain why his mother’s lineage was in possession of the wings.”

  “Yes, it does,” Aurora said. “It means an archangel gave that demigoddess the necklace before she left Earth.”

  He almost laughed. “That would never have happened.”

  She frowned. “Do you think she might have stolen it?”

  That was just as unlikely. While minor deities had never had a problem with taking whatever caught their eye, and the archangelic necklaces were both exquisite and rare—two things all immortals adored—the necklaces were off-limits.

  Not because they were designed only for an archangel’s beloved. But because they were crafted from the very fabric of their home world. The place of their creation. And no deity of any stripe wanted anything to do with that place.

  “Absolutely not.”

  Aurora tilted her head, assessing him, and while it touched him that she wanted to help, he should have left her at home. Where she was safe, and he didn’t have to worry about her.

  “Yet the fact remains,” she said, breaking into his thoughts, “the necklace was handed down for generations. If you’re so certain a demigoddess wouldn’t have stolen it, that leaves one big possibility. Even though I don’t know why you think it would never have happened. It seems pretty obvious to me. An archangel gave it to her because she was his beloved.”

  “Trust me. No archangel would have fallen for a demigoddess. That’s just … inconceivable.” As inconceivable as an archangel falling for a demon.

  Or a human with a trans-dimensional parentage.

  “I don’t see why. And it stands to reason she was pregnant with his child before she left Earth, as well.”

  “She couldn’t have been.” They would have known of such a liaison. Surely, they would have known? “We only conceive with our beloved.”

  “Yes.” She smiled at him and gently brushed her fingers over his chest. “It’s making sense now, isn’t it?”

  It didn’t make any kind of sense at all. The offspring of gods were—had always been—exciting and enjoyable lovers. But never anything more.

  Because at their core they regarded archangels as anomalies of nature. A freak of creation. They were neither hybrid nor pureblood, but merely the physical manifestation of an Alpha goddess’ insatiable ego.

  A fuck was one thing. Falling was something else entirely.

  It seems pretty obvious to me. And to someone who didn’t know the facts, he had to concede it was a reasonable conclusion.

  Unease crawled along his spine. Until meeting Aurora, he would never have considered her dual heritage was possible. What if she was right?

  Was he discarding a viable option, simply because of his own ingrained prejudices?

  It wasn’t a great analysis of his critical thinking. He’d never considered he was blinded by prejudice before. But now she’d planted the seed, he couldn’t move past it.

  Was it possible a Nephilim had been born in another galaxy, after the great destruction that had decimated Earth? He had no right to assume that bonds of eternal devotion had never existed between an archangel and demigoddess simply because he had never known of it.

  Could Jaylar and Evalyne be descendants of an archangel?

  He gripped Aurora’s fingers, his anchor in a rapidly disintegrating reality. How fucking warped is that?

  For the second time, he scanned Jaylar’s aura. Was that strange, elusive glimmer that he hadn’t been able to place when the man had first approached him, the result of an archangel and demigoddess union?

  “Do you have your daughter’s necklace? I need it.”

  “No.” Anguish flayed the word. “She was wearing it when she disappeared.”

  There was nothing more to learn here. He inclined his head at Jaylar, tightened his grip on Aurora, and teleported.

  Home.

  * * *

  Aurora

  As dawn slid delicate ribbons of pink and peach into the bedroom, Aurora propped her head on her hand and gazed down at Gabe. He was sprawled on his front, the sheets tangled around his hips, and pain twisted through her heart at his ravaged back.

  The parallel scars that distorted his flesh, despite their obvious age, looked as if they still caused untold agony.

  How had he lost his wings? Why hadn’t his powers of regeneration repaired them?

  She had so many questions. Maybe one day he would answer them all.

  Slowly, she trailed her fingertips along the length of his back, perilously close to the deep gash, yet not quite touching the mangled flesh. Were these injuries linked with the death of his beloved?

  A dull pain cradled her heart. It was pathetic to be jealous of a woman who had been dead for thousands of years, and yet here she was. Envious of a love that could never be hers.

  She braced her weight on her hand and leaned over him. The juxtaposition of perfectly sculpted muscle and bronzed, unblemished skin contrasted with the brutal slashes that had once ripped open his body. Yet far from detracting from his beauty, the imperfections only enhanced it.

  And at the same time made him seem, somehow, more human and less … immortal.

  Tenderly, she pressed her lips against the knotted seam of flesh where, millennia ago, his wings had been ripped from him. Her eyes drifted shut, and in her mind, she saw their glorious majesty. Yet the flecks of gold, which highlighted each individual cream feather, had been so pretty. Delicate even.

  Not majestic at all.

  She was only recalling the image she’d found in his office. But in her heart, it was so much more. As though she could remember his wings herself. The way he wrapped them around her, and how she delighted in the incredible power and deceptive softness imbued in each individual feather.

  The exhilaration when he held her as they flew through the skies.

  Her head sank lower and she breathed in deep, savoring the scent of elusive rainforests and the tantalizing hint of ages old familiarity. Was this how it began? The gradual erosion of the memories of her previous existence, until all she recognized was life with Gabe?

  No. She would never forget her previous life, no matter how long it took her to return to it.

  She wound her arm across his back and pressed her cheek against his scar.

  Suppose I never find a way to safely return home?

  But what if she did and never saw Gabe again?

  He stirred, and she shoved her disquieting thoughts into a dark corner of her mind. This morning they were going to follow up on the information Gabe had extracted from the pirate he’
d interrogated, but it wasn’t quite morning.

  Not yet.

  She molded her body to his as he rolled onto his back. His eyes were still closed, his hair tangled, and every shadow of his face was so achingly familiar.

  But she’d only known him for a handful of days. She had to remember that. She hadn’t known him all her life, no matter how the certainty seeped through her senses.

  Still bracing her weight on one hand, she trailed her fingers along his jaw and over his lips, and his cock stirred against her thigh.

  With an inelegant wriggle, she trapped his hips between her knees. Palms spread on his chest, she delicately caressed his rapidly thickening length with her damp sex.

  Her clit ached with the delicious friction, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted him inside her, possessing her, but she also wanted to prolong this moment of anticipation. The heady sensation of having Gabe, her beloved archangel, powerless beneath her while she tormented him with sensual pleasures.

  A fantasy, maybe. But it worked for her.

  “You finished?” His voice was gravelly, like a rough caress.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “You stopped.” He cracked open one eye, long lashes concealing his expression. “I thought I should check. In case you needed some help.”

  She smiled, couldn’t help herself, even though she had the terrible certainty he would see far more in her eyes than she wanted him to. “I think I can manage.”

  He cradled her breasts, his gaze meshed with hers, before slowly trailing his hands along her body. Everywhere he touched, ribbons of flames ignited and smoldered beneath her sensitized skin.

  “After last night I thought you’d sleep in.” His voice was uneven, and he palmed her bottom possessively. “I was counting on you sleeping in.”

  “You had an ulterior motive?” She gently rubbed the tip of her nose over his. He had done that to her only once, and she never had to him. Yet the gesture seemed so strangely familiar. “I thought maybe you just couldn’t get enough of me.”

  He gave a rumble of laughter. “That too.”

  After they’d returned from seeing Jaylar, Gabe had told her that he was going to follow up on the pirate’s cryptic comments. He hadn’t agreed when she’d suggested going with him, but neither had he argued.

  They’d hardly slept last night, and her body still glowed from their lovemaking. But she knew his plan had been to leave her so exhausted that she wouldn’t be aware when he left this morning.

  His plan had failed. She was going with him to the Fornax Galaxy whether he liked it or not, but she had no intention of discussing it with him right now.

  She kissed him, long and slow, and his fingers teased her tender flesh. She groaned, the sound vibrating between them, and his grin was a potent aphrodisiac.

  Her muscles contracted around him, but he didn’t take the hint. She needed more, and she surged upwards, shuddering with a torturous fusion of pleasure and frustration.

  “Are you sure you’re not some kind of sex god?”

  His grin was feral. “I’ll be your sex archangel if you want me to.”

  “I’m serious.” With agonizing deliberation, she sank slowly onto his engorged cock. A whimper escaped her, but she didn’t care. “I only have to look at you and I want to shag you senseless.”

  He laughed and shoved further inside her, stretching and filling her in the way only he could. She squeezed him tight, and thrills pulsed through her when he gritted his teeth as though she pushed him to the very limits of his control.

  “The feeling is mutual,” he growled.

  Slowly she raised her hips, the heavy slide of his cock inside her utterly intoxicating, and then he bucked beneath her, spurring her onward.

  The breath rushed from her lungs as his size expanded her tender flesh, as he filled her body and heart and soul. Intermingled, they became one, and she didn’t know where she ended and he began, because there was no divide.

  There’s never been any divide.

  As she convulsed around him, he came with brutal ferocity. His arms encircled her waist, and he ground out words in his strange language. Words she couldn’t understand but that captured her heart, regardless.

  For eternity.

  Chapter 27

  Aurora

  Sprawled on Gabe’s chest, Aurora listened to the comforting thud of his heart as it gradually slowed its erratic thunder. He held her close, one arm around her waist, his other hand curled around her shoulder.

  As though he feared she might try to escape.

  She pressed her lips against his damp skin and closed her eyes.

  Stop imagining his every gesture means so much more than it does.

  Dawn had long broken. Any moment, he would shatter this tranquil interlude and there would be no time for her questions. She snuggled more securely in his embrace and traced her fingertips over his impressive biceps.

  “What’s that language you sometimes speak?”

  She didn’t need to be psychic to feel the surprise roll through his body. But he didn’t brush her question aside.

  “It’s unknown on Earth these days.” Idly, his fingers played with her hair. “It eventually evolved into what’s now referred to as archaic Sumerian.”

  It eventually evolved? Archaic Sumerian was one of the oldest languages ever discovered. But he was referring to a civilization that had existed further back in the past.

  A civilization she knew nothing about.

  The one he’d mentioned when he had told her how Evalyne couldn’t possibly be descended from an archangel.

  Excitement and an unformed dread collided in her heart. She had the strange certainty that if she continued this conversation, her life would be irrevocably altered.

  And perhaps not for the better.

  But in the end, she couldn’t help herself.

  “What happened?” Her awed whisper drifted between them. Such a simple question, but one that showed how stark the chasm was that divided them. “Why haven’t we discovered any archaeological evidence of this civilization?”

  His body tensed, and regret flooded through her. Had she pushed him too far? But then he exhaled a long sigh.

  “Humans have discovered evidence, Aurora. But they choose to ignore their history. As far as they’re concerned, there were no great civilizations on their planet more than five thousand or so years ago.”

  Shivers raced over her arms. Was he talking about the ancient pyramids that were scattered across the globe?

  “What did we ignore, Gabe?”

  His smile was sad and touched a place so deep inside her, she wanted to wrap him in her arms and reassure him that everything would be all right.

  But the damage had been done long ago, and nothing she did or said would ever make things right for him again.

  “Where do I begin?” There was only the faintest trace of bitterness in his voice, and it wasn’t directed at her. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, even though a part of her soul screamed no, because the knowledge he was about to impart might drive an irreparable wedge between them forever.

  But her thirst for knowledge had always outweighed her need for self-preservation.

  “We discovered Earth at the end of the last so-called Ice Age. The true golden age of technological advance and enlightenment among humanity.”

  Riveted, she gazed at him. He was speaking of prehistoric times, ten, eleven—more—millennia ago. That couldn’t be right. She had misunderstood him.

  “But people were hunter-gatherers then, Gabe.”

  Gently, he cupped her face. As if she was something infinitely precious. This time she didn’t try crushing the thought. Because deep in her heart the improbable certainty glowed.

  He did care for her.

  “Yes, that’s true,” he said, and it took her a second to recall he was responding to her comment, not her errant hope. “For the most part.”

  “The most part?” she ec
hoed, enthralled.

  “There was a vast continent where the culture was rich and diverse. That’s where we made our playground. The scholars of that time were our teachers, our lovers. They taught us about the stars and the celestial cycle of the Earth.”

  His mesmeric eyes were glazed, as though he recalled living in that far off time, in that fantastical land. She hardly dared breathe, in case she distracted him.

  “Our goddess was fine with this. At least we weren’t polluting the human gene pool with countless offspring. She’d got some serious shit from the other Alphas over her …” He paused, clearly debating his choice of words, before continuing, “experiments. They would have ripped her apart if they’d been able to. Not only were we created from them all, but she’d given us wings. The ultimate indulgence. Or insult.”

  “They were jealous?” Gods had been jealous of archangels?

  He shrugged, like it didn’t matter. “They rarely deigned to interact with us. We were content to remain on Earth. And eventually, some of us discovered love.”

  “And your goddess wasn’t fine about that.” It wasn’t a question, and when he shot her a considering glance, she knew she was right.

  “She didn’t like it.” He sounded reluctant to admit it. “But she tolerated it.”

  “Because as far as she was concerned, the love of an archangel for their beloved was nothing compared to the eternal love you bore for her.”

  Where did that come from? And why was she so sure she was right?

  “Something like that.” There was a guarded note in his voice, and he looked at her as though he wasn’t quite sure who she was. “We chose not to enlighten her.”

  A chill inched along her arms, as what he had left unsaid unfolded in her mind.

  “But souls are reborn.” Her voice was hushed as the implication illuminated dark fragments of long-forgotten dreams … memories? “She thought the love died when your beloved died. She didn’t know you waited for them to come back to you.”

  His intense gaze roved over her face, searching for something elusive. Something unimaginable. Her breath stalled in her throat as his eyes darkened, and then he slowly blinked, and the moment shattered.