Noah watched, but nothing too untoward was happening. There was a siren’s call, which was not a violation as yet, but had set off a scurry of male supes, who were grabbing females left, right, and center. No one was in danger as far as he could tell. Yet the unmistakable evil intent was still thick in the air. It weaved its way through the panic and protectiveness that half the males in the bar were emitting.
Noah hated watching and not acting. He would say it was fate worse than death, but he’d seen that, and this watching business was not nearly as bad. He turned his thoughts back to finding the source of the evil and continued to survey the agitated crowd. Why couldn’t he locate the disturbance? Its malevolence was strong, almost tangible, but he couldn’t pinpoint it. It seemed to be spreading, not contained as he would expect.
Women were answering the siren’s call, all of them mid-orgasm while the men tried to protect them. The caller stood back watching; he hadn’t selected his mate yet. What is he waiting for? Noah wondered absently, as he watched women being whisked to God knows where. If Malachi—the merman causing this ruckus with his siren’s call—waited much longer, all the women would be in different times or locations.
Noah felt himself chuckle and it startled him. When was the last time he had smiled, never mind chuckled? He shook it off. He didn’t need to remember. It wouldn’t help in his current situation to start down memory lane and cause another “natural disaster.” It wouldn’t bring her back. Caught momentarily off guard by morose thoughts that not even consuming an entire barrel of the finest whisky could obliterate, he found himself staring at a beautiful woman, who appeared to be looking directly into his eyes. She shouldn’t be able to focus on him—no one should—yet she was. There was no mistaking the direct hit she dealt him. Direct, painful, and impossible, knocking him back to that day like it was yesterday, even though it all started in 4980 BC.
“I love you.”
“You cannot love me,” Noah had said.
“I am capable of love.”
“It’s impossible,” he remembered saying. “I’m a man and you’re the archangel Gabriel, beloved of God; you cannot love me.”
“Do you love God?”
“Of course.”
“Do you love only God?”
“No.”
“Yet, you think that I can only love one?”
“It is different for me. I am not ethereal and do not call Heaven home.”
A beautiful but transparent woman appeared before him. Her long, flowing white hair fell to her waist, crystal clear blue eyes, slightly glowing pale skin with kissable cherry red lips smiling at him. The woman looked at her hands and seemed to be delighted with what she saw. When their eyes collided, joy had spread through him like wildfire. Her voice was soft.
“Angels do not have human form. Humanity sees what they expect to see. They deem the male figure to have power and so all angels are men to them. Yet, you have given me a female’s form.”
“Gabriel?”
As she’d walked toward him, Noah watched her form solidify until she stood before him. Her delicate hand brushed his hair from his face and she leaned in.
“Yes, Noah, but perhaps you should call me Gabriele, as you have given me a female body.”
He kissed her, he couldn’t help himself. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. He’d never seen Gabriel and never thought to either, but they had spent hours conversing and laughing together. Now that he thought about it, the voice had never been male or female, but unique, and he’d fallen in love with it.
That had started the fall of the angels, which had changed his life forever.
***
To say Nico St. Gabriel was stunned would be the understatement of the century. She was downright, jaw-droppingly floored. The guy staring at her was hypnotic to say the least, even with her current state of arousal—where anything sporting a cock looked good. She was highly attuned to the mass of shear dominant power surrounding him. Bald head, over six feet of rippling muscles encased in a tight, black T-shirt, and leather trousers. An elaborate tattoo snaked over his head to his eyebrow and coiled down the right side of his face, all beautiful in a keep your distance kind of way. She felt like drowning in his chocolate fountain eyes, the softness in them a stark contrast to his hard shell. A total bad boy, that’s for sure, with a capital B, and Nico wanted to lick every inch of him to see if he tasted as good as he looked.
A moment on the lips for a lifetime of disappointment. She shivered. He didn’t look the type to disappoint, but then again, her orgasm-inducing detector was firing blanks and had been for...well had it ever really worked? Her last go at finding bliss had ended up a fucking nightmare of horrific proportions, and she was not in a hurry to relive the disappointment that all men guaranteed. As far as she was concerned, that’s all they could guarantee with any meaning. All men need to be taught how to please a woman before they are let loose on the poor trusting female population. As it stood, they wouldn’t know a clit if it sat up and licked them back. Maybe she could convince her editor that they should do an in-depth story on female pleasure. Or better yet, take a hands-on approach and open a school for incompetent fools who think they know what to do, but always cock it up. Snap out of it girl, this is ridiculous; you have more important things to do, like finding your brother, remember him? The missing one, the only man that matters right now.
Returning to the job at hand and pulling her wayward thoughts back from the gutter they had tried to take up residence in, she turned back to the group. Tracking down her brother was her number one priority and this group was her best lead. Her only lead. Why he had anything to do with them she didn’t know, but would find out if it was the last thing she did. And at the rate her body was producing arousal, it might well be the last thing she did before dissolving in a puddle right here in the bar. Christ Nico, get a fucking grip! And pull your head out of your pussy. Now is not the time to be concentrating on your own pleasure or lack thereof. Her abstinence was obviously causing her current state of insanity. She had never felt this all-consuming need to come and it chose now to strike, when she had the least time to sort herself out. Clamping her thighs together just made it worse. Nico groaned, not sure if it was from pleasure or pain, but the pressure was too good to let go of, so she pressed her hand right over her pussy and rubbed.
Her legs went weak. What the fuck?
Her heart rate tripled as tall, bald, and bad—very, very bad, wet dream, maybe even capable of rocking her world, bad—walked toward her. The air stopped cooperating with her lungs as she tried in vain to restore her equilibrium while fighting the urge to throw herself on him, and ride him home, yeee-haw style. Where the hell had that thought come from? Wasn’t she in the middle of convincing herself that indulgence was bad for her and more importantly that her brother’s whereabouts was top priority? Yes, yes she was, but her body was on another fucking planet, and paying her tiny super-ego no mind. Her id was totally in control, and by the feel of her racing pulse it was not giving in until either she was comatose, or he was begging for mercy. Damn, and now she was using psycho-babble to explain her temporary state of mental retardation. What next? My drink was spiked, I’m not normally this forward? Can I take you for a test ride?
She looked at the coke, swirled it round the glass, lifted it to her nose. Yeah, you’re heading for loony town on a one-way train ticket if you think that will fly tomorrow, when he is trying to chew off his arm, instead of an attempt to not wake the freak. Maybe the girls had put alcohol in her coke. She couldn’t tolerate the stuff; it did funny things to her. But you haven’t taken even a sip yet. Nico groaned again. What the hell was wrong with her? Was this how her mother had felt before she killed herself, leaving Brin and her to be raised by a multitude of people until they were eighteen? Disturbing as that thought was, it didn’t cool her throbbing clit or return her sanity. Basically she was shit out of luck. But what a way to go, oh yeah, riding this bad boy into hell might be worth it.
/> ***
Noah snapped back to the present time, a time he’d much rather be in and not remember the past. She should be in hell, not traipsing around, wrapped up in a beautiful human costume. And it had to be borrowed skin. There was only one woman who looked like that, could only ever be one. Her white hair curled softly to her waist, her skin so deliciously soft and luminescent, he’d spent hours just running his fingers over every inch, learning the contours and uniqueness. But something was different, something about her didn’t add up. How could she be here? If he hadn’t tethered her to hell himself, he wouldn’t have thought twice about seeing her here, but he had and there was no way she had found a way to escape. He recalled that the last time he’d seen her she had torn out his heart.
“Please don’t do this. Don’t leave me here. I’m begging you.” Gabriel had sobbed and Noah’s heart had twisted with pain. “I won’t survive without you. She will win and I will die. Please don’t leave me.”
“I...”
He’d been on the verge of changing his mind and taking her with him. Her eyes had been the crystal blue of purity, but now they were the jealous green he had come to know as her demonic side. He knew his Gabby wouldn’t survive if he did this, but what choice did he have. After joining Lucifer and attempting to regain entry into Heaven, her soul had split, his angel was part demon now and a powerfully vindictive one at that. The fabric of earth had started to tear and he’d been charged with setting it right. If it wasn’t for him, Gabriel wouldn’t have fallen and shown others the way. If only she hadn’t tried to return home, but it seemed that home sickness even affected the fallen. She had succumbed to Lucifer’s claims that God forgives all and wouldn’t shun them for loving humans.
“Your weak, snivelling piece of angel shit won’t last the day if you leave her alone with me. Will you really kill her to save humanity? It is not me you kill, Enforcer, for evil cannot die down here.”
The demon retreated like he knew she would. She wouldn’t make this easy for him and stay to remind him why he was leaving his Gabby, why he was tearing his heart out. No, she would make sure Gabby was the one he was leaving and Gabby was the one who had to watch him abandon them.
“Noah...Noah please, please don’t do this...I can fight her. I...I will be stronger, but I cannot without you. Please, if you love me don’t abandon me to this hell; don’t leave me alone with her. I’m not strong without you. I will fade from existence.”
“Gabby, my love, you have tried to fight her, she is too strong, we have tried everything to banish her from you and nothing has worked. This is all there is left. I cannot separate you from yourself and so in hell you must stay. I love you, Gabriele, never forget that you have my heart.
“Noah, I gave up everything for you. Everything! Don’t leave me...”
Noah turned and, with Gabby sobbing and pleading behind him, left her with guilt eating away his own humanity.
That had been the last time he’d seen her. It couldn’t be her.
This was a cheap knock off, someone playing games with him, and when he found out who, he’d kill them, after he made them scream for a few years begging for death He should just take this—whatever it was—back to hell or kill it, but first he had to find out who was trying to fuck with him. That was all he was doing. It was his assigned task to keep humanity safe, even from the ones he loved. Which she isn’t
Damnation! I’m too old for this shit!
Chapter Two
Noah couldn’t take his eyes off the woman. If this was Gabby, and he couldn’t believe that he was even contemplating it, then they were all in big shit. As far as he could see there were no floating arcs, or even shit-deflecting helmets to be seen. He moved toward her, slowly, not wanting to be the one who started the end of the world. Caution had never been his ally, but he needed it now. He just hoped he was wrong.
Fuck caution, grab her and go! Bind her to you until you know what the fuck is going on here, and how to stop it. Then put it out of your misery and go after the bastards that put her in your way.
As he neared, the overwhelming scent of her arousal hit him full blast, and he damn near dropped to his knees. He recalled with painful clarity that scent, and wanted to crawl over to her, bury his head in her pussy, and never leave it again. Home! No, not home, she isn’t real, she is not Gabby.
But everything about her, from the way she held herself, the scent, the likeness and those eyes, those beautiful eyes. How could anyone replicate perfection to this degree? His gut clenched. Deep down he knew that no one but God himself could have made her to this exactness. Gabby had been his north—there wasn’t anything about her that he couldn’t bring to mind with cruel clarity—and after being without it for so long, the urgency with which he wanted to reclaim it was staggering. Her angelic side was a beauty to behold, but the fierce counterpart of demonic blood, curdling cruelty, always won in the end. Unfortunately for him, the two were inseparable and he’d been forced to lock the good with the bad, giving a new meaning of “until death do you part.” And now he was going to face his own worst enemy, himself.
Did he really have it within him to lock her away again? Centuries had passed and he could still feel the pain of the initial battle. Still see the utter betrayal in her angelic half, still hear the words hurled at him, dripping enough venom to kill from her demonic side. The remembrance of conflicting guilt and pain didn’t so much as linger, but sizzled through him, tearing flesh from bone and crushing his heart. He only had to look into her eyes, and he was returned to hell itself. Her blue eyes always sparkled with delight and innocence when her demonic blood rested. Her cold, calculating green eyes appeared when the angelic half had lost the battle of wills, and was relegated to some inner sanctum to hide. Not only did this woman have the exact eye color as Gabby, but both halves were evident at the same time. Had she learned to live in harmony with the two?
It’s not her! But he couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, someway it was her, and this time she would win.
***
Nico’s skin was on fire and it was hot, so damn hot that she couldn’t breathe. Her clothes were drenched and chaffing her sensitive skin. Her nipples may as well have been classified as mountains they were so rigid and peaked, and her pussy was the ruling power within her. The desire to be fucked, and fucked, and fucked, consumed her to the point where nothing else mattered. No other thoughts were even possible.
“What are you doing?” The richness of his voice added to her fire. Words. She loved them, made a living on them.
“Put your damn shirt back on woman, you won’t fool me with your vixen wiles this time...” Now why in hell would she do that? Her shirt was causing her pain and it needed to be ditched. “Damn it, Gabriele. I don’t know what you’re playing at, but it won’t work. Not this time.”
Nico tried to speak, her mouth moving, forming the right shapes to produce words, yet the only sound to leave her were groans and whimpers. And comprehension was clearly taking a break along with her sanity. She could hear him, understand individual words, but together it sounded like gibberish. All she wanted to hear was “yes, yes, yes” and then maybe a little “oh, fuck yeah” for good measure. Giggling sent a rush of heated blood straight to her clit, because let’s face it, it wasn’t engorged enough at the moment. Utter madness consumed her. His tone caressed her like a living flame licking her need for relief higher. Bracing one hand on the table to support her jelly legs she continued to rub her pussy. She really needed to cum, needed it like her next breath. God, if this was why her mother had killed herself, Nico could understand completely; she was on the verge of coming out of her skin, or so it seemed anyway.
His eyes, God she could spend eternity drifting in them. His big hands clasped around her bare arms. Skin to skin, exactly what she needed, but not enough, not nearly enough. She tried to speak, concentrate on getting her mouth to move and form the words, instead found herself hooking her fingers into the waist of his trousers, and pulling him clo
ser. Bringing their bodies flush, Nico groaned as her nipples hardened even more, begging for more contact. His mouth was moving, eyes locked and body ridged, heat pooled in her core, looking, needing an outlet, waiting him to burst the damn with his tongue.
Hell anything would do—tongue, fingers, cock. She didn’t care as long as he just did something to ease this growing frustration and mounting pain. Wishing she knew what he was saying, she tried to read his lips as they continued to form shapes. Her body didn’t give a flying rat’s ass what he was saying as her nipples pushed against his chest, the lacy white bra no barrier to the sensation his heated body caused. His chocolate eyes drew her closer, up on her tiptoes so that her lips could taste his chin. He groaned as she licked his lips and it was all too much, complete sensory overload. Still she wasn’t able to reach the orgasm; it just kept building and building until she saw darkness edge into her vision, then nothing. This is it. This must be what happened to her mother, death by overload of hormones.
Cool air hit her heated flesh; the feeling of floating was blissful. She opened her eyes. That kiss had left her breathless and...wait, her mind clamored for reality, anything solid to cling to, apart from the man who was...who was...flying, and not the euphoric “coming back to earth from the best orgasm or kiss” kind, but rather “your ass is airborne without the aid of steel, and wings, and a huge fucking engine to keep you from crashing to certain death” type. Those couldn’t be huge glistening white wings taking her higher. Dreaming. Yep, that was it. Her unsatisfied hormones were eating her brain and she was now either on the floor convulsing, or hopefully being rushed to hospital. So why was she still consumed with arousal and intent on ripping this...this angel’s clothes off?
The Enforcers (The Blood Bar Chronicles) Page 10
