Angels and Ministers of Grace

by Michelle O'Leary

  He ignored her, searching for a less public place to explain at the top of his voice just how stupid she'd been. Just around the corner from Whitey's was a short corridor that had an open shrine at the end of it. He'd often been amused by the irony of having a shrine so close to a place like Whitey's, but amusement was the furthest thing from his mind at that moment as he dragged her inside and rounded on her.

  But she beat him to the punch, yanking her wrist out of his grip and snarling at him before he could get a single word out. "Don't you even start with me, Jason Salvatore! You have no right to be angry with me about this!" She started pacing in front of him, her movements stiff and gestures abrupt. "You and Frank both know I offered my services as a tel-empath to the captain and this station—that does not mean sitting around doing nothing while you two throw yourselves into a riot! My god, when I think of all the people that could've been hurt—the people that were hurt—I could just scream!"

  Jason felt like a hungry tiger watching his prey pass all unknowing right under his nose. His fury had transformed into a raging hunger, making his whole body tense and burn. Her own extravagant anger only added fuel to the fire—her flushed face and snapping eyes made her even more beautiful.

  "I cannot believe you two let it get that bad! Do you know how hard it was to be in the middle of that thing? Those people had gone to the point of madness, all that violence and pain… And it all could have been prevented! I could just—"

  She passed too close and he pounced, dragging her against him with one hand at the back of her head and the other arm around her waist. Control lost, he slanted his mouth across hers, the frustration, jealousy and anger of the past few days and minutes forgotten as her sweet taste and intoxicating scent soaked into him like a balm and rendered him mindless with desire. He hadn't expected her to fight him.

  Anya reared back and twisted away, pushing on his chest until he let her go abruptly, panting with frustrated longing. She took a couple of quick steps backward and glared at him, her fists clenched and chest heaving. "Damn it, Jason, why do you do that!"

  "Hell if I know!" he growled, feeling a flush of humiliation burning his cheekbones.

  "God, you drive me nuts! You know, you should try kissing me when you're not angry—you might actually like it!" She started pacing again while he frowned at her in confusion. What the hell was she talking about? "I'm sick and tired of this chip you have on your shoulder, Jason Salvatore, and I think it's about time I found out just what the hell you've got against me! Just what is it that I've done to piss you off? And why do you kiss me angry, damn you!"

  "Kiss you…angry." He stared down at her nonplussed as she planted her hands on hips and glared at him.

  "Yes! It's the only thing I've ever felt from you. You are constantly furious with me. It just rolls off of you like a cloud, and I can't block it, it's so strong. Why? What have I done?"

  She only ever felt anger? He blinked at her in dumb amazement. She thought he only kissed her out of—anger? "You've never—ah…read my emotions?"

  "For god's sake, Jason, do you walk up to people, pull out their waistbands, and look down their pants? I don't do that! It's a violation of privacy. Is that why you've been so mad at me?"

  She looked like she was contemplating hitting him, and he couldn't really blame her. He'd given her a pretty rough time for nothing, and he should probably apologize. But at the moment, all he felt like doing was celebrating.

  "I can't believe you'd think I was that kind of person! Do you hate telepaths, too? Is that what this is? You have some kind of prejudice against—"

  He stepped closer and grasped her upper arms gently. "Shut up, Anya."

  She stared up at him with her mouth open in what looked like shock, and he tried hard not to grin. So she thought he should kiss her when he wasn't angry, did she? A sudden thought made his grip tighten for a moment. "I need to know who that song was for."

  "Wh-what song?"

  "The first one you sang at the Seasons your first night there."

  "I wrote that for my parents."

  He smiled in sudden relief and possessive satisfaction. "Good." Slipping a hand to her waist, he pulled her closer. "Now, let's try this again. And this time, pay attention. I never kissed you angry."

  Defying the need pounding through his veins, he did not attack her this time, but gently brushed his lips against hers, savoring their softness. He was rewarded with her swift indrawn breath, and she became supple under his hands, the stiff tension in her form disappearing. Molding his mouth to hers, he slid a hand up her throat, his heart pounding urgently to feel the race of her pulse under the warm, silky skin. Slipping that hand into her hair, he cupped the back of her head as he deepened the kiss, intoxicated by the feel and taste of her.

  Anya was melting. Her whole body was on fire, and she didn't think she could stand up much longer. The gentle strength in his hands, one splayed across the small of her back and the other anchoring her for his kiss, were bad enough. The hot seduction of his mouth was worse. But what really made her muscles liquidate was that she'd done what he'd said and paid attention, brushing him gingerly with her talent. The force of his passion, on the very edge of control, drove her wild.

  In an effort to keep from collapsing, she slid her arms around his neck and arched into him, moaning with both desire and frustration as he wrapped his strong arms around her, pulling her against the chest plate he still wore. It wasn't enough—she wanted to be closer. Pulling herself up on tiptoe, she twisted her fingers in his dark hair and kissed him back. It was beyond frustrating when he lifted his head, breaking the kiss.

  She was appeased by the dark passion in his eyes, but his next words threw her into confusion. "You have the worst timing."

  About to ask him what he meant, Anya jumped with a squeak of surprise to hear Frank's voice.

  "Y-yeah, sorry."

  Sinking back onto her heels and pulling her hands down to cover her burning face, she realized with hot embarrassment that she hadn't even heard Frank approach—or speak.

  "I wouldn't have, ah…interrupted, but we can't wake any of 'em up."

  "I need to do that or they'll be out for days," she muttered between her fingers, very aware that Jason had yet to let her go. Damned good thing, too—her knees were as weak as a newborn lamb's.

  "Okay. Um…should I just wait, or—"

  Mustering the courage to look Frank in the eye, Anya straightened and stepped out of the circle of Jason's arms with reluctance. "I'm coming. But just so you know," she stepped over to stand next to Frank, looking back over her shoulder at Jason with a promising smile. "I'll expect him to be free for dinner tonight. See to it, Frank."

  "Yes, ma'am!" Frank chortled.

  Jason gave her a slow smile in return, and her knees nearly came unhinged again at the heat in his eyes. The man was devastating when he wasn't angry. To preserve what dignity she had left, she turned and walked away from the shrine.

  Whitey's was pretty much as she'd left it. Some of the troops had straightened and unknotted a few of the sleepers, but little else had been done. Pretending to be surveying the scene, Anya took several calming breaths and waited for the other two to join her.

  Frank showed up first, faded blue eyes twinkling and mouth compressed as he held back laughter. "Jace said he'd need a minute."

  Anya couldn't hold back a smug smile, pleased that she'd had as much of an effect on him as he'd had on her. "Hmm. Well, I think we should do this in small groups. If I woke them up one by one, we'd be here all day. If I woke them up all at once, we might end up right back where we started. Okay by you?"

  Frank agreed readily and taking another deep breath, Anya indicated the ones she would wake up first, helping to untangle them from the rest. Waking them up was simple enough, but she left them a bit sleepy so that they'd be easier to handle. Frank organized a herding detail to take the offenders to holding cells.

  Anya was busy wiping blood and liquor off of one dazed man's face when Ja
son appeared at her elbow, startling her.

  "The Seasons?" he murmured in a husky voice, looking down at her with vibrant eyes, the seduction in his faint smile and handsome face nearly stopping her heart. She was unable to do more than nod. The force of his dark eyes moved to her mouth and her heart started to pound.

  "Seven o'clock good?"

  She nodded again, aware that she was swaying closer to him, but unable to help it.

  "I'll be there," he growled and spun on his heel, walking away with long strides.

  Anya took several deep breaths, twisting the cloth between her hands as she tried to steady herself. If he looked at her like that tonight, they weren't going to make it through dinner.

  "Don' I know you?" the man she'd been cleaning up asked in a slurred voice, blinking at her with one eye—the other was swollen shut. Grateful for the distraction, Anya gave him a gentle smile and finished wiping his face before turning him over to the herders.

  Jason didn't stay long, which was both a relief and a disappointment to Anya. Being able to watch him freely was a pleasure she didn't want to forego, but he was also extremely distracting and waking the brawlers required focus. When their work was done, she accepted Frank's thanks with a weary nod and headed towards her quarters, determined to take a nap. Using her talent so much had tired her, and she was damned if she would be a zombie at dinner.

  Chapter 20

  The nap refreshed Anya, and she woke with a sense of tingling anticipation, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She'd never been with Jason when he wasn't furious with her, and she didn't know what to expect. Her friends were unhelpful—when she contacted them to tell them about the date, they teased her without mercy until she turned the viewer off with an exasperated snort.

  Getting ready for dinner was an exercise in determination. She kept losing her train of thought and would find herself staring absently into space, unable to remember what she'd been doing. The man had her in knots, and he wasn't even there.

  When the time came, Anya found her way to The Seasons and positioned herself outside the front entrance to wait. Time passed, and she was starting to think he wouldn't show when she saw him round the corner and stride towards her with a leashed energy that held her riveted. He was out of uniform, looking delicious in a white shirt and dark pants. A smile tugged at her lips to see a bouquet of flowers clenched in one fist and swinging at his side, but her smile faded when he stopped abruptly, a thunderous scowl on his face.

  Her stomach dropped in disappointment. "Damn it, you have that face again! What is it now, Jason?"

  "That dress."

  She folded her arms across her chest, glaring back at him. "What about my dress?"

  "It's the same one you wore when Marta and I came for dinner."

  "So what? I happen to like this dress!" Hurt and a disappointed anger sharpened her tone. This was not how she'd imagined the evening would start.

  "Anya, you're a heartbreaker in that dress, and you damned well know it! How am I supposed to survive dinner?"

  She blinked at him for a second before the compliment registered and the implications of what he said sank in. A slow smile curled her lips, and she felt the tension in her muscles ease.

  His eyes narrowed on her as his glower deepened. "You don't have to look so smug about it, either."

  She stepped closer and tipped back her head to look into his eyes, smile widening. "I'm about to have dinner with the sexiest man on the station, and he thinks I'm a heartbreaker. I have every right to be smug, Jason Salvatore."

  His frown eased, and Anya thrilled to see the heat in his eyes as they stared at one another. Warmth and weakness spread throughout her body, and she was seconds away from throwing herself at him when he lifted the bouquet between them in an abrupt movement.

  "These are for you," he muttered.

  Anya slipped her fingers around the stems without taking her eyes from his. "Thank you. They're beautiful."

  One corner of his mouth lifted in wry humor as he glanced from her to the flowers. "You didn't even look at them."

  "I've got great peripheral vision," she murmured, knowing she was making an obvious fool out of herself, but unable to help it.

  His smile twitched into a quick grin before he shifted a little away from her and gestured towards the entrance. "Dinner then?"

  Anya had never felt less like eating in her life, but wasn't quite brave enough to suggest the alternative—at least, not yet. She still had questions and should take the opportunity to get answers. With an inward sigh of resignation, she nodded as graciously as she could and preceded him through the entrance.

  The maître d' smiled in warm welcome. "If it isn't our lovely songbird! And, Commander, it's good to see you again. You're not scheduled to sing tonight, Anya. Are you dining this evening?"

  "Yes, please, Philip. A quiet place, if you don't mind."

  The thin man smiled knowingly between the two of them. "Ah yes, it would be my pleasure! Follow me, please. I have just the table."

  They began to wind their way through the tables, and Anya was intensely aware of the light press of Jason's fingers at the small of her back. The heat of his touch seeped through the velvet of her dress and warmed her clear through. By the time they got to the table, she could feel a flush on her cheeks, and she praised Philip on his choice of tables to cover it.

  He really had made a good choice—he'd brought them to the furthest corner of the dining area, closest to the plas-glass and the spectacular view of the arboretum. They had no view of their fellow diners, and Anya's stage was a little awkward to see for anyone sitting there, but that made it very private.

  "I'm glad you like it. I believe your waiter tonight is Yun Chi. He'll be along shortly, but I see you've got a lovely bouquet! That should really be preserved—let me get a stasis disc for you, Anya dear."

  He zipped away, and Anya smiled across the table at Jason, holding the flowers under her nose to savor their sweet perfume. "He's sweet."

  His mouth twisted in a wry smile. "Yeah, sweet on you."

  "Jealous?" she murmured coyly, a teasing grin curling her lips.

  He grinned back, folding his arms across his broad chest and sitting back in a casual motion. "Nearly all the time."

  It wasn't the answer she'd been expecting, and her stomach flipped over at the implications. She watched him over the flower petals, wondering if he was being serious or facetious.

  He tipped his head to one side, eying her in an appraising way and lifting one eyebrow. "What, no comment?"

  "Jason—" she started, but Philip came bustling back to them, a small stasis field generator in the shape of a disc in his hand. He made a large fuss over taking the flowers and arranging them just so in the stasis field. Anya couldn't keep an amused smile off of her face and sat back with a hand in front of her mouth to cover it.

  "Thank you, Philip. That's very sweet of you."

  "For you, Anya dear, it's my pleasure. I'll send Yun Chi to you right away."

  She thanked him again, and he whisked away, in his element. Shaking her head, she glanced over at Jason to see a faint, cynical smile on his face.

  "You seem to have that effect on everyone, Angel."

  "Don't start that again, Jason. My name is not Angel, it's Anya." She pointed a stern finger at him, but he didn't look the least bit repentant. "You call me Angel again, and I'll smack you silly."

  "You don't like the name?"

  "It bothers me, especially when you say it in that tone." She narrowed her eyes on him and tried not to smile when he feigned innocence. "I figured that if I ignored the nickname, people would eventually drop it, but it keeps following me around. I suppose I could just give in and color my hair."

  "You think it's the white hair that makes them call you Angel?"

  "Of course, what else?" He lifted his eyebrows at her, and she shrugged in discomfort. "Well, maybe that in combination with my singing. When I was younger I was flattered, but now I think it's just—" she sto
pped, frowning at him as he shook his head. "What?"

  He leaned forward, the dark force in his eyes and the leashed power in his movements mesmerizing her. "You really have no idea, do you? How could you have gotten this far without knowing what you do to people?"

  She didn't have a chance to answer. A small man with a cheerful face and a polite smile approached them and introduced himself as their waiter, Yun Chi. He took their drink orders, handed them a couple of menus, and bowed slightly before leaving them.

  Anya stared at her list of choices without seeing them. What had he meant? Did he think she tried to influence people towards her, maybe even using her talent? If that's what he meant, he must not think well of her…or he really was prejudiced towards people with talent as she'd accused him earlier. She'd never gotten a straight answer out of him about that, or exactly why he'd been so angry with her. Her stomach tightened in a knot at the thought. But if he did feel that way, then why was he here with her?

  "They don't have what you want?"

  She glanced up at Jason in confusion. "What?"

  "You were frowning at the menu. What's the matter?"

  "Nothing, I just—" Anya stared at him for a moment, but under his regard her nerve failed and she didn't ask. "I think I'll have the grilled chicken salad." She could see by the bland expression on his face that he wasn't fooled by her evasion, but he didn't press it.

  "Sounds good, but pretty much everything here is good."

  As if on cue, Yun Chi materialized next to them with their drinks. "Are you ready to order?"

  They ordered their dinners, and Anya watched the waiter go, aware of Jason's eyes on her. She needed to know and this was probably the best time to ask, but it wasn't going to be easy. Clearing her throat and squaring her shoulders, she turned to meet his gaze. "Jason, I think you owe me an explanation. Why were you so angry with me? Did you really think I had forced my way into your head?"

  He dropped his eyes from hers with a quirk of his lips. "Yeah, I really thought you had. On your first day here, you said something that made me think it."