Sword's Blessing

by Kaitlin R. Branch

  “Can you get it?” Samantha asked, frowning at something in the text.

  Giselle sucked on her lip. “I’m not sure what my title will get me,” she said. “I can call on the one who ascended me to ask.” She glanced at Armand. “Maybe get some information on accessing his memories as well.”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much, dear,” Cassie said as she came in. She smiled at Armand. “The child will get his memories back when they’re good and ready for him. For now, you should go and get some rest. It’s been a busy day, and to be honest, my bones are creaking.”

  Samantha started. “I suppose we’ve outstayed our welcome,” she said with a faint smile. She stood. “Thank you, Cassie. You’ve been so much help.”

  “I only gave you safe haven and some hints,” she said, and cupped Samantha’s face with a broad smile. “Don’t forget your place, darling. Your power releases woes, forgives sins, cleanses all belligerent justice. When you next see me, cling to that memory.”

  Samantha frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Cassandra only patted her cheek once more and moved to Giselle and Armand. “Child, Blood-bearer…” she patted their hands, then folded them together. “Forgive an old woman her bluntness, but just fuck, already.”

  The two blinked. Eli and Samantha both failed spectacularly to muffle their guffaws. It was only made worse when Giselle cleared her throat and managed a bewildered, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “We’re just up the street at the casino,” Eli said, “so if you need us…”

  “I’ll send Charlotte along,” Cassie said. “Now get, the lot of you. I’ve got dishes to mind.”

  With a final farewell to Charlotte, still at the shop’s register, the four of them stepped into the street. Eli paused and turned to Giselle. “Here’s your key. You guys can do what you like. I have a lady to spoil.” He grinned at Samantha. “And you’ve got whoopee to make.”

  “Must you be perverted?” Samantha asked, hands on her hips. “Honestly.”

  “Damned, here, I’ve got an excuse. I don’t know what Cassie’s is.”

  “She’s old.” Giselle hummed, but plucked the card from Eli’s hand. “Have a good time.”

  Winding an arm around Samantha’s waist, Eli dipped her back and kissed her. When he stood her up again, she was laughing. “We’ll make do. See you at breakfast.” With that, he dragged the Inbetweener away.

  There was a slightly awkward pause. Then they spoke at the same time. “So…”

  Armand laughed. Giselle bit her lip and he took her hand. “You’re nervous.”

  “Well. Yeah.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Me too.”

  “I don’t think I should be,” Giselle confided. “Come on, Armand, we’ve…we’ve fought Damned and done all sort of strange things.” She jumped as he put an arm around her waist. “It’s not that big of a deal and it’s silly to be nervous.”

  “I think it’s a big deal,” he said with a smile. “If accounts are right, I’ve been waiting more than eighty years for you. How is that not a big deal?”

  She started, and then swallowed. He was right. Eighty years. How in the world had she been so naïve? “I’m sorry I didn’t realize…before…”

  “Even if you had,” he said as they exited Bourbon Street proper, “it would have only ended badly. This was the best possible scenario for us.”

  “Even with the pain and the kidnapping and the soul shattering?” she asked skeptically.

  “Especially with all that.” He kissed her cheek. “Come on. Do you want something before we check in? A burger or a drink?”

  She laughed. “I’m fine.” She took his hands. “You’re right.” She held up the key. “Time to go.”

  * * * *

  Despite her assertion she wasn’t nervous, as soon as the door closed, Giselle wanted nothing more than to walk back out of it again. There was nothing to fear but her own fear at this point, and she had sworn to leave fear behind. Besides, this was Manas. This was Armand. She knew him, he knew her, there was nothing to worry about.

  Still, it was terrifying, and it must have showed on her face, because he reached out and stroked her cheek. “I love you.”

  Her heart lightened, and the smile which lifted her lips was genuine, dissipating a bit of her nerves. He could offer her such comfort with so little. “I love you.” She reached over to turn off the light, but he stayed her hand.

  “Can we leave it?” he asked softly. “I want to see you.”

  She blinked, and then blushed, wondering at how his hands seemed to firm as they reached out to caress her cheek, her neck, her shoulder. It felt good, warm, sweet. She’d been so forward earlier, what had happened? Belatedly, she realized he might want her to be touching him and reached out clumsily.

  He smiled. “It’s okay, Giselle. You can just enjoy it.”

  “How do you know?” she blurted. “What to do, I mean?”

  “I don’t, of course.” he said with a grin. “I’m better at faking it, aren’t I?”

  She thought of the times he’d stumbled them into and out of strange situations, how when she’d had no notion what to do, he’d always forged ahead on pure instinct. It might have gotten them into trouble once or twice, but it had also saved them on more than one occasion. She smiled. “Yes. Way better.”

  He stepped forward, sweeping her into a long, sweet kiss, and with the distraction of the conversation, she forgot to be nervous, closing her eyes and soaring into space with his skin close to hers, the touch of his hand on her cheek. When he pulled back, she couldn’t help but smile.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she replied, and took his hand, tugging him in to kiss again. This time when he reached back to stroke her dark hair from her face, she sighed, and when he strayed lower to her wings, she didn’t hesitate to wrap them around both of them.

  His fingers slipped through the feathers as easily as her hair, and he took a deep breath, suddenly breaking the kiss to murmur. “I used to do this often. You’d hide in my wings whenever you got scared.”

  Her eyes flew open and she looked up at him with a faint gasp. “Y-yes,” she stuttered. “All the time, when we first ascended…”

  Armand tipped her head with a joyful smile. “Giselle,” he whispered. “I remembered.”

  “Yes!” she returned. “Oh–I…” she swallowed hard, burying her fingers in his hair with a quivering smile. That single memory was enough to set her abuzz with ecstatic joy. He wasn’t lost! Armand and Manas had a chance. “Anything else?”

  “No.” he said. His hands were shaking. “Quick,” he laughed softly, “kiss me again, maybe there’s more.”

  She wasted no time, capturing his lips insistently, joyfully. Truly, if he had never recovered his memories, she would not have left him. If she was the key, if he could remember through her, then hesitation could crisp in a fire.

  After a moment, he hugged her closer, lifting her up a few inches from the floor. She couldn’t help giggling. “Armand,” she said, then paused, opening her eyes to look on his face. What if he didn’t like being called by that name?

  He was smiling. “It’s fine.” He touched their noses, keeping her suspended, resting on his chest, leaned back to look her in the face. “They’re all me.”

  She thought that was somewhat strange wording, but nodded. Gently, he put her down, but only for a moment, grinning wickedly as he scooped her knees from beneath her and kissed her again. “Wings are pretty strong, right?” he asked with a laugh.

  “Well, yes,” Giselle replied, almost giddy with his infectious happiness. “I mean, they’ve got to get us around.”

  “Good!” he cried, and tossed her on to the bed, only laughing more at her shriek of surprise, jumping after her.

  Giselle opened her eyes to find him on his knees beside her, studying her with a bright, almost awed gaze. “What?” she asked softly. “Did you remember something?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said with a gentle smile. He r
eached out, still breathing hard as he trailed a knuckle along her jawline. “I just thought to myself…this is the woman who will bring us safe through the storm.” He laughed softly. “And I guess that’s true enough, isn’t it?”

  “Only because you were there,” she replied, and reached up, taking his wrist to draw his hand lower, lower, until it was resting on one breast. “Waiting for me.”

  “Who waited for who?” he leaned forward before she could answer, kissing her sweetly, gently, as his hand cupped her clothed breast, then slid down her waist and hip. “Giselle…”

  “Manas…Armand…” She smiled. “Whichever, right?”

  “Might be easier if you chose one,” he teased.

  “Armand.” She said immediately. “Manas is certainly nice…”

  “But Armand is the most recent name,” he agreed, and tilted his head, looking thoughtful.

  She waited for a moment before asking, “Did you remember something?”

  “No.” He rubbed his hair, sheepish. “In fact I’m trying very hard to remember something, but it’s just not coming, and logic isn’t helping either.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  Armand smiled abashedly. “I can’t figure out how to get your shirt off around your wings.”

  “It just…” Giselle paused, then laughed. “I guess it isn’t obvious. The wings can phase out, so just like a normal shirt.”

  “Like Eli’s horns.”

  “Right.”

  He chewed on a lip. “Sorry. I think I ruined the romance there.”

  “No, you didn’t.” She smiled and pulled him down to kiss, and sank back into ecstasy immediately. His hands were warm and gentle, his lips soft. As he took a hold on the hem of her shirt, she felt nothing but peace. This was how it was meant to be. Him with her, her with him.

  Armand drew off the shirt, tossing it to the side and sitting up to smile at her. “You don’t wear a bra,” he said. “I always thought you did.”

  Giselle giggled. “You thought about these things?”

  “If I remember correctly, I tried not to but failed miserably.”

  He reached out, brushing the swell of flesh at her side where the breast rose from her ribs, his eyes faintly unfocused. “Your skin is even, too, not like those girls with tan lines…”

  “It’s the same color as when we were mortals,” she said softly, watching his hand touch her at first and then gently returning the touch on his wrist and arm. “The same color as you.”

  Suddenly, he smiled widely. “Your skin was darker than your mother, like your father, but you had her face.”

  Giselle smiled wider. “You remember that?”

  He responded by kissing her, hand cupping around a breast. Her eyes fluttered, his hand felt even warmer flush against her skin but it wasn’t enough. When his fingers moved he tweaked her nipple, and she gasped. He paused, and she could feel him smile against her lips as he did it again. The sensation was like an electrical buzz echoing through her bones, exciting and jarring at once. When his other hand took the other breast and began the same treatment, she whimpered.

  Armand cleared his throat, sounding hesitant. “Giselle…”

  “Don’t stop,” she moaned. “Please, please, Armand.”

  He swallowed and leaned down. At first she thought he would kiss her, and took a breath, but instead his lips landed at the junction between her neck and shoulder, brushing her skin like feathers. The buzz increased and she shifted to wrap arms around his chest so he couldn’t pull away. “A-Armand!”

  Her hip moved against him, and with awe she realized his hard length pressed against her thigh, curiously warm and velvety...

  She had seen men aroused before certainly. He was different. This was Armand, and this was for her. A hand crept from its place on his back to explore the phenomenon.

  He was breathing a little hard as she pushed him up so she could concentrate, watching her sit forward with wide eyes. Giselle blinked up at him and smiled. “What?” she asked softly.

  “Just…” He was silent for a long moment, and then smiled. “I feel like I’m unfolding with you. Like everything’s coming together. Like I’m coming back home. It…feels good.”

  For a moment, Giselle watched his face, wondering at what it must be like to remember nothing and then have it all come back, piecemeal. She remembered what Samantha had said, how their connection was so great her presence had kept his soul from shattering beneath Cyrene’s onslaught. How if they’d been separated by death as planned, she would have slowly gone mad. Love ballooned in her heart, and she placed her hands on his hips, pushing up under his shirt and then drawing the cloth over his head. He was as beautiful as she remembered from their brief encounter in the hallway, and watched her intensely as she drew her fingers down the musculature of his chest and stomach.

  Finally, she kissed his hip and nodded. “Yes. It’s good to feel you, too.”

  His hand tipped up her chin, meeting her gaze silently. Then, without lifting his eyes from hers, he reached down and drew her pants down. Giselle watched his face, and then did the same, both of them supporting the other as they shifted side to side to remove the garments from their knees and ankles, finally facing each other completely naked.

  “Weren’t we naked when we first ascended?” Armand asked as he tilted his head, studying her body, the dark hair which curled close at the center of her legs, the place where her stomach met her hips and created a dip in the skin.

  “Yes. Gabriel gave us our first clothes.” Giselle couldn’t help but watch his length, straight from hair like hers, so thick it nearly obscured the other ways he was different. It was faintly red, as if blushing in embarrassment, and she cracked a smile at the thought.

  “I’m glad you think it’s funny,” Armand joked quietly.

  “What?” She paused, and then shook her head, grabbing at his wrist and yanking him over, wrapping arms around his neck so she could kiss him and feel the warmth of his skin on hers. He took a deep breath and moved closer, until their bodies were flush against each other and his hand wound in her hair, his member pressing on her stomach between them. She sighed. Yes. This was right. This was how things were meant to be.

  He kissed her for several moments, and Giselle smiled. He was waiting for her, and had been waiting for so long. No doubt if she said something, if she told him she was more than ready, he would say something about savoring their time, about wanting to make it worth the wait.

  It would be worth the wait no matter what. She placed her hands at his shoulders and pushed him against the headrest, smiling as he gave her a perplexed look. Before he could speak, she kissed him again and slung a knee over his legs, trapping him beneath her. He seemed to understand what she was doing immediately, and pulled back, looking at her face for a moment.

  Spreading out her wings to keep her balance, Giselle shook back her hair and met his gaze, shuffling up so she straddled his hips. His length pressed against her curls, twitching in invitation, but Armand didn’t move and neither did she.

  They stayed like that, quiet and watching each other for long moments. Giselle recalled watching each other in times past. As children it had been a contest, a game to see who would blink or laugh first. As they ran from their town it was a gesture of fear, a way to keep each other strong. After their ascendancy a seeking of comfort. Slowly it became simple understanding and solace. They had been raised together, ascended together and tested together. Now they would do this together. She smiled. “Do you remember when your mother and mine got together and talked about being bound by blood?”

  He smiled gently. “Yes. And we thought they were going to slice open their wrists and mix it up in a bucket, then put it back in their bodies.”

  “Yes!” She couldn’t stop the joyful smile, kissing his forehead. “You do remember.”

  “You’re here. How can I not?” He lightly stroked her waist and settled his hands on her hips, leaning up to kiss her neck. “I’m certain by the time tonight i
s over I’ll remember everything. Every moment in this life and the last.”

  “Good.” She reached down, steadying him as she let her knees slacken just enough that he pressed on her. He took a breath and so did she. Did it feel the same for him? A sudden realization of what it meant to truly join with another? As he pressed inside her, her breath hitched and caught–oh the physical pleasure was great to be sure but more than that, suddenly she could feel their connection in a very real way. If it had been a mere filament before, now it was a pipe, and the depths of his soul poured into hers, igniting a fire of adoration more powerful than the sun.

  When he gasped, she knew he was no less affected. His grip on her hips shivered, and she came to rest against him, moaning softly and pressing close so she could steady herself with him, shaking hands framing his cheeks. “Armand…”

  “Giselle…” he replied, gulping for air. His eyelids fluttered. “Giselle…do you feel it?”

  “Yes. Stay with me,” she whispered.

  He looked up at her then, and Giselle gasped. His eyes had gone as silver as her sword, blazing as he lifted her slowly, purposefully up, and then down. She caught her breath again as he groaned. “Always, Giselle! Always.”

  And again he pressed out, so slowly each second was an ecstatic eternity, until between her body and his spirit, she could barely find words to express the completeness and the strangeness.

  “You…” She labored to explain to him how he suddenly glowed beneath her touch, how his eyes blazed with a light which looked like the blessings of her sword.

  “Not now…” he said, and a hand wound up her back and he switched their places, gently placing her on the mattress and bearing down again, pressing in, pulling out, more quickly such that she cried out this time. “Not now, love. Feel me.”

  And she did. She understood why Angels rarely took lovers then, because the utter connection of sex rendered her completely in touch with him. If he had not been her companion for so long, if they had not known each other all their lives, she would not have been able to trust him with the complete vulnerability, the depth of knowledge which being with him opened to her. As his skin pressed against hers, as he plunged in and out of her, as his hands touched her and lips opened to hers, she saw greater and greater things–their childhood, their ascension, the fights they had won, the fights they had lost, the moment she thought Cyrene had surely killed him, the moment she had denied heaven for his sake…as the night went on though, there was more. It was cloudy. Feminine hands. A voice, sobbing in darkness and wet warmth. Fresh wind and soft apologies. Farewells. Every time she sank too deeply into those foggy thoughts though, Armand kissed her and brought her back, the light of his eyes and the warmth of his skin never letting her stray far.