Operation Middle of the Garden 03 - Of Consuming Fire

by Micah Persell

  He loosened his fingers slightly. The blue-eyed one sucked in a ragged breath.

  Jayden would never be able to keep them here without them trying to escape. Without someone trying to rescue them. Unless —

  Jayden abruptly dropped his hand. As the blue-eyed one folded over to clutch his knees and gasp, Jayden turned to the blond one. “How did the men on the other side know to meet you at the cave-in?”

  The man’s wary eyes hardened, and his chin kicked up a notch.

  With a sigh, Jayden marched forward, intent on prying the information from him bodily before realizing from the man’s thoughts that he would not cave to physical intimidation. Jayden turned once more toward the blue-eyed one and reached for him again —

  “Okay, okay!” the blond one shouted.

  Jayden let his arm fall to his side and faced the blond one once more with a raised eyebrow.

  “We’ve been in contact through cell phone.”

  Ah, yes. The humans were never far from their gadgets. Jayden stalked closer to the blond man whose Adams apple bobbed, though he did not step back.

  “Listen to me now,” Jayden said in a low voice once they were toe-to-toe, “and know that I do not lie. No human, not even a strong one, stands a chance against me. If there is a rescue attempt — from either side — again, you are all dead. You and the innocents who would attempt to aid you.”

  No reaction from either man.

  “Your women as well.” Jayden looked directly into the blond one’s eyes, the truth and horror of his statement as apparent as Jayden could make it. “You will set me off, and not even I will be able to stop myself.”

  Now the blond one reacted. “Don’t you lay a hand on — ”

  Jayden cut him off with a raised palm. “Call them and tell them it is unsafe to attempt rescue.”

  Still the blond one hesitated.

  “Do it,” the blue-eyed one rasped from over Jayden’s shoulder. The man’s thoughts of his mate and unborn child mixed with panic and poured directly into Jayden’s mind. Whatever the human heard in Jayden’s voice, it was enough to convince him Jayden was as out of control as he probably was.

  With fumbling fingers, the blond one pulled a slim phone from his pocket and made the call.

  Jayden stretched forward his palm. “Give it to me.”

  As soon as the cool metal hit Jayden’s skin, he crushed the phone within his fist. “That was the first wise thing you have done today. Return to your women. Enjoy the time you have left.”

  The door to the delicate one’s room clicked shut behind the men, and Jayden had no problem overhearing what was said and thought within.

  “ — completely deranged — ”

  “Can turn invisible — ”

  That particular divulgence drew a unique blend of wistful and envious thoughts from his Temptation. All of them felt their situation was hopeless, even if they refrained from saying so out loud.

  A few minutes later, they all dejectedly decided to call it a night. As the door opened once more, Jayden surrounded himself with his wings, so he could watch the defilers in stealth. The blond one and the mouthy one took an examining room a few doors further down without once looking in the spot they both knew Jayden was hidden.

  His Temptation, however, stopped mid-stride and turned to look directly at Jayden. Her stare was so penetrating that Jayden’s feathers ruffled as he strove to make sure he was fully covered.

  She sighed from deep within her gut, and her thoughts hit Jayden full in the face: Lucky angel.

  Without another thought, she continued to walk down the hall and into a room several away from everyone else.

  She so desperately wanted to be invisible. For no one to see her.

  Why?

  The Compulsion jerked within him. As though he felt a chill, Jayden tightened his wings around his body. But the movement was not enough to stop an errant, completely inappropriate thought: He would shield her from all other eyes forever, if only he could.

  Chapter Five

  The past twelve hours had not changed much, except for the humans’ strategy. Jayden leaned against the wall outside the delicate one’s medical room and listened unashamedly as they all talked in hushed tones within. Now, rather than escape, it sounded as though their plan were to “win him over.”

  Jayden scoffed. Terrible plan.

  They began urging his Temptation to play off of their connection.

  Jayden frowned. Maybe they were smarter than he thought. And Jayden obviously revealed more weakness where his Temptation was concerned than was acceptable.

  No, Jayden shook his head. He had no weakness where his Temptation was concerned. He was resolute.

  It did not matter anyway. His Temptation refused so violently, Jayden did not have to use any stealth to overhear.

  Jayden sighed as he realized he automatically tensed at her refusal. It would only help matters if she vowed to stay away from him.

  Then — through the walls, over their arguing — Jayden heard his Temptation’s stomach growl.

  He did not realize he moved until his hand slapped the cool metal door. He pushed it open, and it bounced off of the wall.

  They all froze like naughty children, their eyes blinking at him widely.

  “You need sustenance.”

  He was speaking only to his Temptation, but the mouthy one stepped forward. “Yes,” she said in a light, lilting voice that differed greatly from the one she had used thus far. “That’s a great idea. There are some MREs in the emergency supply closet. I could go get them.”

  Winning him over seemed to be in full effect. He realized that he had again shown concern for his Temptation and forced his face into a mask of indifference, with only a slight grimace. “It matters not to me.” Jayden shrugged. “You will all die soon anyway. But suit yourself.”

  The mouthy one clicked her tongue and threw one hand up in the air as the other landed on her cocked hip. “Does he have to keep saying that?” She asked, turning to her mate. “I can’t be nice to him if he says shit like that.”

  “Okay, okay,” the blond one said stepping forward and ushering his mate out into the hall as quickly as possible. Probably afraid Jayden would kill her on the spot. He was tempted. “We’ll be right back,” he threw over his shoulder. Jayden heard them argue as they made their way down the hall.

  The delicate one tried to give Jayden a dim smile from her bed, but he barely saw it. This was the first moment since her longing stare yesterday that Jayden had seen his Temptation. And right now his eyes were riveted.

  When she noticed him looking at her, her gray eyes quickly darted away from a glazed focus on his wings. Her hair was more a tempest than it had been yesterday. Her clothes, still sliced and bloody from his sword, were even more rumpled today. She had discarded the jacket of her oversized business suit, and Jayden’s eyes were caught by the flashes of smooth skin revealed by the barely-together garment. Her stomach was beautiful. Perfect. His hands itched to touch it, to slide across what was probably the softest thing he would ever touch.

  She fidgeted under Jayden’s stare. “Sh-she didn’t mean it,” she said softly.

  It took a moment for Jayden to remember the mouthy one’s casual insult. He could not focus on anything but his Temptation’s body. “Yes she did,” he replied automatically. Before his eyes, her nipples hardened, pressing into two distinct, perfect peaks. Jayden’s mouth watered. His belly ached, much worse than it had yesterday. He placed an open palm over his lower abdomen and rubbed absently.

  She crossed her arms over her middle and chest, breaking the spell. Jayden raised his eyes to her face and froze at the pure, unadulterated terror in their stormy depths.

  Jayden sucked in a breath. He petrified her. He closed his eyes and focused. No, not just me. What she felt for him scared her, too.

  She wanted him.

  Everything she had just been thinking washed over him. He saw himself through her eyes. Saw as lust and awe flashed across his face
while he watched her breasts harden. Felt her breathless longing.

  He opened his eyes in shock, barely suppressing a groan at the depth of her desire. But then he focused on her eyes again. None of those emotions were there now. Only the terror. It poured off of her in waves.

  Oh, she had wanted him for a moment, but that moment was long gone. Her fear was so stark he could nearly taste it. He found himself wishing to reassure her, tell her he would not hurt her.

  But it would be a lie. And the cherubim could never lie.

  The blond one and the mouthy one reentered the room, piles of MREs in their arms. They skidded to a stop and, as one, looked back and forth between Jayden and his Temptation. Without a word, the mouthy one moved to stand before Grace, her brows crashed down over her eyes.

  Jayden blinked. He realized every muscle in his body was taut with tension. He had taken several steps toward his Temptation while his thoughts had been occupied, and his hands were fisted at his sides.

  He forced himself to relax, once more making his face a blank mask. “She needs clothes,” he ordered empirically. “I already told you so once. Get her some immediately. I do not want to see that,” he gestured toward the general area of her exposed skin, “anymore.”

  Oddly enough, his words caused his Temptation’s face to fall. A corresponding ache sharply flicked through his chest. Before he could make a greater fool of himself, he turned on one sandaled heel and left the room. As soon as he was out of sight, he fell against the wall in the sterile hallway, his breath leaving him in a whoosh.

  Inside the room, the blond one asked, “What the hell was that?”

  The blue-eyed one gave a vivid — and accurate — recounting of Jayden’s reaction to his Temptation, making sure to leave nothing out. Jayden had completely forgotten the presence of the other two in the face of his Temptation’s charms. He brought his hand to his forehead to smooth the tension there. His hand was shaking.

  The Compulsion stretched within him like a predator preparing to strike. Jayden gritted his teeth and forced it back down. Lord of the Most High, this cannot be over quickly enough.

  • • •

  “Grace.”

  I do not want to see that anymore.

  Grace couldn’t breathe, her chest hurt so badly. I do not want to see that —

  “Grace.”

  She knew they were calling her, trying to talk to her. She couldn’t make her mind track. Her eyes were stinging. That meant tears. And Grace knew if she started, she wouldn’t be able to stop.

  I do not want to see that. Grace rubbed her stomach through the gash in her shirt, trying to gauge just how horrifying her fat stomach actually was to look upon. It must be just as bad as it always had been, even though the fruit had caused her to drop so much weight. Weight she needed to hide behind; weight she loathed.

  “Grace!”

  Grace jumped, and the momentum caused one of the tears she’d been fighting to tip over the edge of her lower lid and trail down her cheek. Grace squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath, certain every second would be the last she maintained control.

  You are beautiful, the Voice whispered to her mind.

  Grace’s eyes popped open. The Voice had been speaking to her constantly since the moment she found out that the angel was capable of invisibility. It whispered … encouragements to her. It was just unsettling enough to pull Grace from this latest dark reverie.

  Her eyes focused to find all four of her fellow prisoners staring at her with varying expressions of concern and wariness. She focused on Dahlia, who was closest and had her mouth opened, as though she were going to say Grace’s name again.

  Grace took a shuddering breath. “What?”

  Dahlia snapped her mouth shut. Apparently, now that she had Grace’s attention, she didn’t know what to do with it. After several seconds, “Are you okay?”

  Grace breathed a disbelieving laugh.

  The corner of Dahlia’s mouth turned up fractionally. “Let’s get you some clothes, okay?” she asked softly.

  Grace let her eyes fall shut as she fought to keep from remembering just how disgusted the angel had sounded as he looked upon her exposed skin.

  Grace, no, the Voice whispered. You misinterpret —

  Grace’s gasp interrupted the Voice. She snapped open her eyes. She misinterpreted? That was not something Grace did. Ever. She embraced the anger that overshadowed the shame. The Voice had to stop. It was creepy and weird, and she couldn’t take any more changes right now.

  She turned to Dahlia once more. “This Voice thing … .”

  Dahlia’s eyes widened. “It’s speaking to you?”

  Grace nodded. It was all she was capable of as she tried to find a diplomatic way of asking how to make it go the hell away.

  “Isn’t it great?” Jericho asked, drawing Grace’s eyes to him.

  Grace felt one eyebrow rise and her lips pinch, but Abilene and Eli were too busy adding their like-minded comments for anyone to notice.

  Dahlia, however, snorted, and all eyes turned to her. Grace felt a flare of comfort that was quickly squelched by the woman’s next words: “Actually, it is pretty cool.”

  Et tu, Dahlia? Grace scowled. “What is it supposed to be, God?” Okay, even Grace recognized how bitchy that sounded. Proverbial crickets sounded in the aftermath, as everyone looked at her with mouths open.

  Eli spoke first in calm, measured words. “Is that a problem?”

  Grace swallowed hard, but refused to back down. “Come on. I’m an intellectual.”

  Now Eli was angry. “Whereas I’m dumber than dirt, so I’m allowed to think it’s God?”

  Abilene spoke up from the bed. “Okay, okay, corners, people.” Her eyes held understanding as she looked at Grace. “Why does it matter if it’s God, Grace?” she asked softly.

  Grace felt her brow crinkle even further. “Oh, seriously, I can’t be the only person in this room who’s thinking it.”

  “Thinking what?” Jericho bit out in a low voice.

  Grace sighed. Great. She’d pissed him off, too. “That if it’s God — and it seems to like us — then why is there an angel here set on killing us?”

  More crickets.

  “Huh,” said Dahlia. “How ’bout that?”

  Eli clenched his fist. “That is — a really good question.”

  “Are we sure he’s an angel?” Jericho asked.

  “He’s too much of a self-righteous asshole to be anything else,” Dahlia muttered.

  Grace sidled closer to Abilene’s bedside as the other three continued to mull over this newest question.

  “Don’t worry,” Abilene whispered. “It takes some getting used to, but soon you’ll love it.”

  They were back to talking about the Voice. “Does it ever go away?” Grace couldn’t keep herself from asking.

  Abilene shook her head at the same time the Voice whispered, I am always here.

  Grace had the feeling she was meant to be comforted by that. Instead, every muscle tensed. One of the few comforts Grace had was her solitude. Was even that to be taken from her?

  I do not take, only give.

  “Yeah, right.”

  Abilene smiled, and Grace realized she’d spoken out loud.

  “Crap,” Grace said.

  Abilene giggled. “Don’t worry. We all do that sometimes.”

  “ — ’bout to die of boredom.”

  Grace and Abilene turned toward the other three.

  “We could clean up the wing from the earthquake,” Jericho offered. “It would keep our hands busy at least. You know, with something other than throttling the angel.”

  Grace leapt at the opportunity. “I’ll help.” Anything to keep her distracted.

  When Grace tried to follow them out into the hallway, Dahlia stopped her. “Let’s get you some clothes first, all right?”

  The words were said kindly, but that didn’t keep Grace from flinching. I do not want to see that anymore.

  “Oh, Grace, I did
n’t mean — ” Dahlia reached out to touch her. Grace sidestepped, and Dahlia’s hand hovered in the air.

  “Right.” Grace didn’t even recognize her own voice. “Clothes. Of course.”

  Chapter Six

  Grace lay in bed the next morning and stared at the drop-tile ceiling. She was in the room at the end of the medical wing, away from all of the others. There were a good three rooms between her and her nearest co-prisoners, Jericho and Dahlia.

  She didn’t think standing in a corner and hugging herself while wishing to be invisible would make this go away. Last night, after cleaning the wing, they sat through a tense communal dinner of liquid spaghetti and meatballs. And, though a nine-and-a-half month pregnant woman lay, literally, in their midst, they had all eyed Grace like she was a ticking time bomb.

  For someone who was used to disappearing into the walls, it was very disheartening.

  But not quite as disheartening as the brief flares of discomfort along her nerve endings that had sent her to bed at eight o’clock. No, those had been absolutely terrifying. As terrifying as Abilene’s response to Grace’s whispered question, “How bad will it get if I don’t … ”

  Bad. Very bad.

  Grace had the covers tucked up to her chin. Underneath the sheet, she wore only a baggy scrubs top, which hit her mid-thigh when she was standing, and a pair of no-nonsense panties. She turned her head and stared longingly at the one-size-too-big scrub bottoms meticulously folded over a chair. With every fiber of her being, she longed to put them on. To cover her new body — she estimated she was now a size 16 — with frumpery and go on with her day as though nothing had happened.

  But something had happened. Grace idly scratched her neck at a brief flare of hot, itching pain. It was worse today. The flares were closer together — already, since waking, Grace had experienced several of them. They showed up at random spots on her body. And always, accompanying the physical discomfort, her brain flashed images of the angel behind her eyes. His flowing, vibrant brown hair. The skin so warm and sweet in color she wondered if it tasted of raw sugar. Those eyes a color she’d never seen: honey-drenched moss. His height. His broad shoulders. The powerful body his robe did nothing to hide. His chest.