Moonlight Mist: A Limited Edition Collection of Fantasy & Paranormal)

by Nicole Morgan

  “Have I threatened you in any way?”

  His voice stopped her. Stuck between the safety of the house and the raging storm outside, she peered over her shoulder at the puzzled look on his handsome face.

  Only a few feet away, the shadows clung to his form. “I don’t believe I have. It has been a while since I kept company with a woman, any woman, so my social graces are lacking.” He approached cautiously, as if afraid she would bolt. “If I have threatened you in deed or verbiage, I apologize.” He bowed and pivoted to leave.

  “Wait.”

  He slowed yet didn’t turn. His broad back faced her, enabled her to speak when fear clogged her veins. “What are you?”

  “You don’t really want to know. You want to go home.” He took another step to leave.

  “Tell me, please.” She wanted to hear it, had to know the answers to the growing list of questions surrounding him. However terrible, however abnormal, she wanted him to say it to her. The importance of what he was grew with each passing second. The need burned in her chest, from a spark to a flame. Shivering from the cold outside and the inferno within, she banded her arms around her waist and turned to face him.

  He glanced at her over his shoulder. His face was in profile, illuminated by the glow from the fireplace. Bathed in both orange flames and shadows, a flash of lightning washed the interior with white light, throwing everything in stark relief. The semi-barren room, the glowing fireplace, and the faint outline sprouting from Warrant’s back.

  The answer came to her, exploded in her brain just as darkness claimed the room again. Only her will kept her weakened knees from collapsing. All fluid like a current of air, he turned. Flames from the fireplace expanded and almost leaped into the room. Their glow framed him.

  “Are you certain you want the answer, Aurora? Once given, the truth can never be untold. And this knowledge is a burden.” His lips moved, but the sound came from everywhere.

  Weighed by fright, her head felt heavy as she nodded.

  On a deep sigh his shoulders lifted and fell. “Very well. I am Warrant, an UnHallowed. So named because I fell from grace. I am a fall—”

  The front door banged against the wall and a dark figure clipped her, knocking her off her feet as it swept into the home. Aurora fell forward. Her temple smashed into the door knob as the door rebounded. She landed on her side, tucked her arms close and rolled. She didn’t stop until she pressed against the wall.

  Warrant stood in the middle of the room, sword clutched in his hand, his gaze darting from corner to corner. She had a brief thought about where Warrant could’ve hidden the weapon, then something flitted by her face.

  First impression, it was a bat. A bat as big as a condor. Yet, neither animal had swirling white eyes and two-inch fangs. Or leathery wings drumming with each flap. Or a screech that had her hands shielding her ears to stop the pain. Her eyes didn’t stray from the aberrant form. It hovered, the clap of its wings reverberated like thunder. Its white eyes burned into her, pierced the surface of her brain, and seeped into her thoughts. Kill, it said.

  How-how had it gotten past her shields and into her thoughts? Even Warrant hadn’t been able to do that. Worse, she wanted to respond.

  The beast swooped low and targeted Warrant. It darted around his sword and raked his face with razor sharp claws. Strike and retreat, strike and retreat, it danced in the air, a ballet of torture.

  Essence from three deep gashes ran down Warrant’s face, streamed onto his shirt. He slipped and crashed into an arm chair, his sword skidded away. Aurora pushed to a crouched position and drew the attention of the beast. His pitted eyes locked onto her.

  Her purse! She’d left it on the counter in the kitchen. Aurora climbed to her feet at the same time the beast lunged for her. Claws snagged her tee and knocked her off balance. Falling short of her goal seemed to be the story of her life.

  She didn’t expect Warrant to land on top of the beast.

  Man and creature crashed to the floor. Aurora kept her footing and ran into the kitchen. She snatched her purse off the counter. Crashing and screeching came from the living room. She unzipped her purse and had her hand on the gun secreted inside a second later. Free and cocked in the next blink, she ran back into the living room. The two rolled across the floor. Limbs and wings entwined, destroyed furniture greeted her.

  Guns weren’t her choice of weapon, but this was all she had…for now. You have a target. Do not hesitate. Shoot.

  “Don’t! Bullets will only anger it,” Warrant yelled.

  Good thing she didn’t have regular bullets. She aimed, locked on her target, and fired. The beast shifted, as if it knew her plan, and the bullet tore through the thin skin of the wing. Dark mist seeped from the wound and curled in the air. The beast screeched high and long as it took to the air. Aurora tracked it and fired again. The bullet lodged in the ceiling. She ducked as it nosedived toward her, and she took aim again. At the last second, it veered, and smashed out of a window. She ran to the window and followed its trajectory. Wounded in the wing, its flight was jerky, but still it quickly blended into the dark skies.

  A crash and a thud sounded behind her, followed by a painful sound that made her heart plummet, even when it shouldn’t. She picked her way through the destroyed room and made it to Warrant’s side. His eyes were open, pupils dilated and unfocused. Wasn’t surprising with the air whistling through the hole in his neck. The bullet had passed through the beast and hit him. This wasn’t what she wanted, the night to end like this. However…she stooped down, brought her lips close to his ear, and whispered, “Mission. Accomplished.”

  Chapter Four

  Aurora studied the diminishing storm outside the solitary house. The clouds had thinned and moonlight attempted to break through. Good, the perpetual gloom of the sky and darkness in the house sapped her energy. Though sunlight would be best, moonlight would give her extra strength at this grave time.

  A garbled groan drew Aurora away from her inspection of the sky. Her prisoner had awakened. She stayed in position near the window as Warrant’s head lolled on his neck. A lock of hair flipped from one side of his head to the other. She wanted to tame it, run her fingers through the strands and make it choose a side. Ridiculous.

  Another deep groan and his limbs moved, rattling the chains she used to secure him to the lone dining chair. Now, his head jerked up and she’d swear by the ripple that traveled through his body, all his muscles tensed. An erotic sight, even from a distance.

  Desire swept through her, settled low in her groin, and made her light and edgy at the same time.

  Enough of that! The pretense of arousal was no longer necessary. With a thought, she snuffed out her body’s baser needs.

  Warrant’s struggles ceased almost as quickly as they started, and his gaze slammed into her like a fist. Energy crackled between them. In response, her lungs fluttered, shortening her breaths into quick pants. The rest of her tensed, prepared for violence.

  She joined him in the firelight, expecting his wrath, anticipating it with disturbing giddiness. She had bested an UnHallowed, easily. Pride filtered through her system and she allowed herself to bask in the emotion. UnHallowed, fallen angels who chose to Fall, chose to lose their grace rather than follow Father’s orders during the first age of man. Disloyal, unfaithful pieces of…

  Aurora forced herself to refocus. Her first task was complete. Now to move onto the second.

  She met his gaze as his superior, not a fledgling. Power swelled through her, leaving her trembling. None believed she could do it, the feat so impossible, none had ever attempted…until her. The UnHallowed lived in the shadows, a stygian world absent of light located in the conduits between day and night, away from humanity. Keeping to themselves instead of trying to coexist kept most of the Celestial Order unaware of their existence. Kept them away from their final judgement. Well, she was here to judge one, not all of them.

  Not completely true. If one UnHallowed could so easily be duped, brought t
o heel, made to submit, then so could the others. She would lead the forces. Her name, Aurora, would be written in the annals to be passed from scholar to scholar, to live forever in—

  “How long was I unconscious?”

  His terse demand knotted her stomach. “Long enough for me to bind you.”

  He gripped the armrest and snarled, “Answer me. How. Long.”

  “Around twenty minutes,” she blurted and immediately hated herself for submitting to his command. Regardless of his stature as an UnHallowed, he was not in charge, but had yet to understand his new reality. However, her answer seemed to settle him. His eyes closed briefly as if in relief. Then his aura expanded and blanketed the room. The single pulse made her aware of his immense untapped power he held in check. The UnHallowed was strong. She shouldn’t be surprised yet was.

  “Release me. This is the only time I will ask.” The guttural tone of his voice had a lush, teasing edge that thrummed her nerves in the most unexpected way. A strange sensation. One added to the many other sensations she’d experienced since accepting the test. Cold, heat, thirst, hunger, all detestable to her. But not this sensation. This sensation reminded her of her transitory humanity more so than any of the others.

  Aurora pushed the thought out of her mind. All of this—Warrant, the surging emotions of her body—was temporary. Passing the test and ascending to warrior class angel was all that mattered.

  She focused on the UnHallowed with his arrogance draped around him like a suit of armor. He thought he was her superior. “Have you failed to notice your chains, UnHallowed? How foolish of you to keep iron in your house. Other than empyreal steel, the one thing capable of binding you. Hurting you.”

  She shook her head and tsked. “Proven by the bullet hole in your neck, which continues to ooze.” A river of black essence trickled down his neck.

  In her previous position, compassion had flowed from her. To bring succor, ease suffering, had been her calling as a comfort angel. Until it became too much. There was so much pain in the world, bottomless wells of despair that too many wallowed in and rejoiced in. Her compassion had run thin millennia ago.

  Still, it distressed her to leave him thus. UnHallowed are lowly creatures. Give no quarter for none will be given to you. That was what Michael ordered and what the teachings dictated, but that wasn’t quite true, at least not by this UnHallowed’s actions.

  He settled into the chair, making himself comfortable. “What are your intentions now that you’ve captured me?” The chains rattled almost in defiance.

  Tension coiled within her. His continued confidence in the face of defeat was unsettling. Maybe I should call for help? Immediately, Aurora discarded the notion. Calling for aid would make her appear weak, not ready to be a soldier in the Celestial Army, what Warrant once was. She swallowed the lump in her throat and raised her weapon. “Confess and find redemption.”

  His head cocked to the side, exposing the bullet wound to the light of the fire. Why did it suddenly look red and not silvery black? Must be a trick of the light.

  “Judged, convicted, and sentenced. Are you old enough for that responsibility? The burden?” He smirked.

  She bristled at his arrogance yet retained her outward calm. “My age has no bearing on your chained position. I am the one who placed you there.” Her pendant irritated her cleavage. “Confess now and earn redemption.”

  “I confess…I find you intriguing.”

  His voice had a hypnotic effect. She suspected he did that on purpose to blunt her senses.

  “I imagine anything with a heartbeat you’d find intriguing, including the higher caste Darkling that swept in here.” She snorted and watched as his hands curled into fists.

  Confidence reaffirmed, Aurora strolled up to him, her weapon leading the way. His nostrils flared and flames from the fireplace reflected in his eyes. Or were those flames actually in his eyes? Her hand shook, which meant the gun shook. A crooked, knowing grin twisted his mouth.

  Damn, those lips. She remembered the feel of them on her skin.

  Show no weakness. No. Weakness.

  She fired and nicked his ear. A sliver of black mist wafted. The bastard didn’t even flinch, damn it. She couldn’t tell what unnerved her more: His unwavering gaze or her disregard for his existence? Repugnance at her action, not determination, should be coursing through her veins, but her feet were firmly planted on the path of her choosing. Changing that path now wasn’t an option.

  Aurora studied her hostage’s now impassive features. She wasn’t fooled. The bullet in his neck and the chains binding him had to be agony. The scent of his seared flesh filled the air. She could fire again, empty the gun of iron right into his black heart, and kill the UnHallowed. But that would not get her his redemption and her promotion. Her arm dropped to her side. This was about more than his final demise, though that would be the eventual outcome.

  She moved closer. Her thighs brushed the inside of his knees as she stepped between. His legs spread, not because she forced them apart, but because he deigned to accommodate her. Another ripple went through his body and his head tipped back to rest on the back of the chair. A breath whistled through his clenched teeth as a muscle danced in his jaw. His essence had slowed to a trickle.

  Steeling her heart from the guilt trying to take hold, she dropped down and forced herself to ignore the wave of heat expanding from him, and the windswept, amaretto scent of him. The gouges on his cheeks hadn’t healed, likely due to the iron leeching into his bloodstream from the bullet still in his neck. “I am here to send you on your way, out of your misery—”

  “What do you know of misery, Aurora, you who are so young?” A dry chuckle came from him with no accompanying smile. Just bleak, tired eyes and grim lips. “Tell me your misery and I’ll tell you mine.”

  “I know you, UnHallowed. Warrant, warrior class. Fallen in the Great Cleansing.”

  The chains rattled, and the armrest creaked from his sudden grip. He leaned forward, inches away from her face. “The cleansing? Is that what you call it? We call it a betrayal. Of everything! Metatron was our leader. And Father threw him away. When he fell, we fell with him.” His words cracked like a whip. The chains groaned but held.

  She would not be swayed by the conviction in his voice. He believed his lies, she wouldn’t. “Love. Loyalty. Faith. Those are the teachings. Are they not?” She shouted in his face.

  His eyebrows raised to his hairline. “What would you know about any of that…Darkling?”

  His words were a slap to her face. She pressed the muzzle to his throat, into the wound, until smoke curled from contact with the metal that had been dipped in holy water. His muscles spasmed around the barrel. He flinched, the muscles of his neck quivering. “Insult me if you must, but never call me that filthy name.”

  A calculated gleam shone in his narrowed eyes and caused a chill to streak down her spine. “There are many choice words I could call you. Which would you prefer?” His breath teased her skin and fanned dual desires she didn’t want. The foremost, to kiss him. The latter, to run.

  A sultry, knowing smirk curled the corners of his mouth. A spark of anger burned away her desire. “I am the one who determines your fate.” She didn’t believe it even as she said it. His set eyes, his tense body, all said different.

  “Because you have a gun?” he said with as much condemnation as the words could hold.

  Her chin raised. “Because I bested you.”

  A sneer twisted his lips, turning them cruel. “Yes. How did you do that, Aurora?”

  He mocked her, didn’t even have the decency to feign respect for her achievement. Now it was her turn to smirk. “How did I do that when you can read my thoughts?” She yanked the gun out of his wound. A snicker bubbled from her throat and she leaned close to his ear, fanned the shell with her breath. A tiny thrill went through her when he moved closer. “You heard what I wanted you to hear. My thoughts were designed specifically to snare you, Warrant. UnHallowed.” She eased to her haun
ches to catch his expression.

  “Ah!” He nodded, his expression unchanged. Unimpressed. Not even a bead of sweat on his brow to show any discomfort. “The helpless damsel needing assistance. Very cliché.” With a sharp dip of his head he gave her a clipped bow.

  “A cliché you fell for.” She hid her annoyance by batting her eyelashes.

  “Is there even a disabled vehicle, or was that a lie too, Darkling—Aurora?” The R rolled on his tongue in a sensual dance. “Is that your name or another lie?”

  Unsettled by his question and the underlying censorship in his tone, she frowned. “Yes. There is a disabled car. I wasn’t sure how intrusive your abilities stretched. From the moment I left the highway, I was in character. And Aurora is my name. I answer to no other.”

  “Deception, thy name is woman,” he murmured.

  Aurora jerked back. She was not deceitful. She was a warrior. “I deceived an UnHallowed who deserved nothing better.”

  A veil dropped over his face, hiding his arresting features behind an inscrutable mask. “Spoken like a true Darkling. Is that your real face or a lie? Is there nothing underneath except pestilence?”

  Pestilence? He truly believed she was a Darkling. Even called her such. “Yes, it’s my true face.” She growled low and reveled in the hostility polluting her veins. “I shall enjoy sending you to Hell.”

  His shoulders shook, and his face transformed with merriment. His chuckle, grating, yet infectious if she allowed herself to join. “My dear Aurora, take a good look around. I’m already there.”

  The chains snapped and clanked to the floor. One of his hands had her by the throat, the other squeezed her wrist until the gun slipped from her numb fingers. All before she could react, her back was kissing the floor with him straddling her. No chance to move. No chance to scream, though what good would a scream do when they were completely alone in a house miles away from civilization in more ways than just distance. Though braced on his elbows, the weight of him covered her from thigh to breasts. A solid block of immovable muscle. Terror should be her foremost emotion. Not even close.