Angel of Death: Book One of the Chosen Chronicles

by Karen Dales

  She watched the man’s grey brows draw together as he glowered. “What spices would that be?”

  Uncomfortable by his piercing stare, Jeanie tried not to fidget as she pulled out the shipping order. “My brother was recently down in London visiting his holdings when he came across an establishment for dinner. After thoroughly enjoying himself on the best meal he’d ever had, the proprietor gave him this.”

  She passed the shipping note to the gentleman.

  Taking the wrinkled paper in his well-manicured hand, he flattened it out on the desk before reading it.

  Jeanie nervously watched as the man’s jaw tightened and then relaxed as he let out his breath in a hiss.

  “My brother and I are hoping to bring this spice to Aberdeen. He is so hoping to have his restaurant be the first to use these spices. We are hoping that your shipping firm would be able to direct us to the individual or the company to make such arrangements.”

  The chair made a grinding sound as the man pushed it back to stand, paper still in hand. “I’m sorry mademoiselle, you would have to speak to Mr. Corneilli for that information, and he is currently out of the country.”

  Shoulders slumped in disappointment she frowned. “When do you expect him back?”

  Turning towards the back door, he stated, “When Mr. Corneilli is finished with his business abroad.” With that he disappeared into the back.

  Left standing, abandoned, Jeanie stood with her mouth open at the sudden departure and the rudeness of the gentleman – if he could be called that. Releasing a huff of exasperation, she turned and exited the shipping office, pleased to quit the dark dreary place. It was when she was climbing back into the carriage that she realised that he still had the shipping slip.

  Turning unsteadily on the step to gaze back at the office, she thought to go back in to demand the paper. She dismissed it when she realized that she no longer needed it. She could bring the Angel and Fernando here, and would not it be a sight to see Mr. Pomp meet two vampires who will not take no for an answer.

  The coach jerked into motion once she was settled and the door closed, carrying her away from the decaying fish smell and the monotony of the warehouses. Leaning back against the embroidered cushion, Jeanie smiled at her accomplishment and it was not even noon yet.

  The coach dropped her off at the hotel where Monsieur Legard was more than happy to exchange some of her sterling notes to francs. Still excited from her encounter at the shipping house, Jeanie hoped that the Angel would not begrudge her for doing a little shopping before going back to their room.

  The sun was dipping down towards the west when Jeanie returned to the hotel, shopping bag in hand. Her exuberance in the beginning had faded over time with the encroaching fatigue from the lack of proper sleep. She had intended to return earlier to the hotel room and the Angel when guilt at what she had done to him worried itself into her consciousness.

  It was the look on his face as he sat huddled, sunlight blazing all around the curtained bed that forced a knot into her belly. She had never seen him like that. The only time he came close was when she had opened the curtains in Fernando’s home, but she had not known what sunlight could do to him. Now she did and Jeanie could not believe what she had done and cursed herself, feeling deplorable.

  She had demanded trust from him. Yelling at him that he did not trust her and then had the audacity to turn it around, throwing it back in his face after all that he had disclosed to her. All she wanted was to go out and help and she flooded sunlight into the room instead of talking with him. She had not trusted him enough to let her go and she hated herself for that.

  How could she have done such a thing to the man she loved? The knot grew larger, fed by guilt and self-loathing. She needed to apologize and prayed that he would forgive her, but fear of his rejection slicked the knot in a thick coat of ice. Jeanie would understand it if he turned away from her, but it did not stop the trepidation she felt as the key turned in the door and she stepped into the suite. She could not lose him. Not now. Not ever. The lock clicked as the door closed behind.

  Placing the bag down on a chair, Jeanie shrugged out of her coat and sat down to take off her shoes. She knew she was stalling, but her feet were killing her. Standing up, she took a deep steadying breath and walked in stocking feet to the room she hoped to share with the Angel.

  Hand on the crystal doorknob, Jeanie swallowed hard as she opened the door with trembling hands. Sunlight flooded the room. Guilt redoubled as she rushed in a panic to close the curtains against the afternoon light, her heart racing in her ears. It was only when the room plunged into muted darkness that she released the breath she did not realize she held. Head lowered, she anxiously walked to the bed as if it were the executioner’s block. Every instinct in her screamed to run away as her hand shook. Taking hold of the thick brocade drapery, she pulled it back, not knowing what to expect.

  Her breath caught. Crimson eyes pierced hers as she took in the full view of him lying diagonally on the bed, propped up on his side to glare at her. His alabaster hair cascaded and disappeared against the crisp whiteness of the pillow. His clothes lay at the end of the bed and she knew he was nude beneath the sheet and blanket. A blush of heat rose to her face and was instantly squashed at the hurt and anger burning in his eyes. It was clear he was waiting for her to say something.

  Jeanie opened her mouth and found the words had dried up at the intensity of his gaze. She had seen him angry before, but never before had his blood red glare shook her to the core. Closing her mouth, she swallowed in the hopes to find her voice.

  “I’m…I’m so sorry,” she stammered, pulling her gaze away from his to stare through watering eyes at the patterns of green and gold of the bed curtain playing around her fingers. It was too horrible to see such a look on his beautiful face and she knew he was the Angel again. The couch was starting to look comfortable and she went to close the drape. She would take back the present she had bought him.

  She heard the soft rustling of the sheets as he moved in the bed and jumped at the touch of his hand covering hers, halting her motion.

  “Jeanie, look at me,” he ordered, his voice stern, yet soft.

  She looked up at him, his face so close to hers that she could feel his breath. The coverings puddled around his waist and she felt a flush of heat at the sight of him. Broad shoulders tapered to a slender waste revealing a long supple strength. The scar on his arm just added to the mystery and gave him an added sense of danger. He was so beautiful. She felt him squeeze her hand and she snapped her focus to his eyes. The anger was still there, but mixed with it was haggard sadness. Jeanie damned herself for having put that there.

  “Don’t ever do that to me again.” His voice shook with emotion, drawing her closer. “I’ve trusted you with not only my life, but Notus’ too. I’ve given you more than any other person in a thousand years. I don’t want to regret placing that trust in you. I love you, Jeanie.” The anger flooded out of his face, leaving only sadness that took Jeanie’s breath away with a gasp.

  The image of him wavered and Jeanie realized tears cascaded down her face. “I’m sorry,” she repeated over and over until he held her tight against his firm body.

  Her face against his smooth chest, Jeanie could smell cotton and something else that sent a wave of desire through her body. Lifting her head, his strong hands cupped her face, thumbs brushing away the tears and she sighed when his soft lips found hers. Tension leaked out as she felt his urgency to explore her, to consume her, heart pounding as her body flared in desire. Jeanie opened her mouth in invitation, giving in to her need and fulfilling his desire to devour her.

  Feeling her arms go round him, she sent a shudder through him as her fingers lightly danced on the scars on his back, his hair entangling around her fingers. A low growl escaped from his throat and he renewed his urgency. She sighed, delighting in his exploration. Soft lips trailed urgent kisses across her jaw-line until he found the hollow beneath her ear and followed it along her
neck. Jeanie gasped as she felt him tease the sensitive skin. Sharp teeth brushed delicately over the throbbing vessel, sending shockwaves of need through her body.

  With a cry of self-denial, she felt him pull away. The promise of more suddenly cut short, leaving her panting and disappointed.

  His pupils were wide with need and she could hear his rapid breathing as he tried to regain control.

  “Oh Gods, Jeanie,” he cried, closing his eyes. “You smell so good.”

  Jeanie smiled and remembered that the lady in the store had allowed her to try some of the expensive perfume that she had eventually bought. After that kiss, she had no doubt that she was forgiven.

  “Thank the Gods you came back.” He opened his eyes and settled back down to sit on the bed. “I was so worried.” Jeanie had not even noticed he had risen up to his knees to kiss her. Now she did, taking in the full sight of him and her heart skipped before beating faster. She did not doubt that he heard it.

  “I found the place,” she whispered thickly, unable to take her eyes off of him.

  Crimson eyes went wide at her admission. “You did?”

  Jeanie nodded, a smile blossoming at his surprise. “’Twas easy. The man at the desk had their address.”

  Finely shaped white brows furrowed as he looked past her to the curtained windows. “Then what took you so long?”

  “I’ll show ye.” Taking the invitation to get the present, Jeanie turned and all but ran back to the front room to grab the parcel, her feet barely touching the ground. His confused shout of her name followed.

  The finely decorated paper bag felt light in her hand as she ran back into their bedroom and her smile brightened further at seeing him sitting on the edge of the bed with one pant leg pulled up over a pale foot, his long thick hair draping down one side of his face.

  “Ye dinna hae t’get outta bed,” she beamed and bounced onto the bed beside him.

  Stupefied by her reappearance, he let the trousers drop and kicked it off as he scooted back in the bed to make room for her.

  “I hope ye dinna mind,” she said, pulling out the two small boxes from the bag. Her grin widened at his confusion. “I still had the money ye gave me, so after lunch I bought these.”

  Opening the first box, Jeanie lifted the small crystal bottle with a fluted neck. Inside amber liquid gleamed. Etched on the outside, a flourish script ‘Vamp’ read clearly, white against the golden liquid. A single white brow rose at the name on the bottle. With a mischievous grin, Jeanie opened it, releasing the scent of roses and sandalwood mixed with something indefinable into the air.

  Jeanie watched the Angel’s eyes go round.

  “What is that?” he gasped as he took hold of the tiny bottle. Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes with a shudder.

  Enthused by his reaction and afraid that he would spill the expensive contents; Jeanie took back the bottle and stoppered it. “The lady at the perfume shop said that this was all the rage in Paris and let me try some. When I saw the name I knew I had to buy it. I hope ye like it.”

  “Like it?” His eyes popped open in wonder and she could see barely controlled hunger and desire fill his eyes. “It makes me want to devour you. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to stop?”

  “Then ye like it, eh?” she grinned.

  “Gods yes.” He leaned forward to kiss her, giving into his desire.

  Slipping out of his reach with a smile, the larger box in her hand, Jeanie poised it before him. “I bought this for ye.”

  Taken aback at the unexpected reaction, the Angel stared at the red and black stripped box and took it from her. No titling marked its surface and she watched in growing pleasure as his long, elegant fingers pulled back the folds to reveal a large glass bottle with reddish brown liquid inside. Freeing the cork, cinnamon mixed with a dark earthy scent filled the room.

  Jeanie watched him frown, perplexed at the lubricous liquid. It was clearly not cologne.

  “What is this?” he asked, rubbing the oily substance between his fingers.

  “Here, I’ll show ye.” Placing her perfume down on the night table, she released her hair from its bun, pleased at the wide-eyed expression on the Angel’s face as her hair fell in waves, ringlets smoothed out.

  This was what she was waiting for and she enjoyed the growing passion on his face as she rolled down her stockings and tossed them off. The clasps on her dress were harder to undo, but she managed until she was standing only in her shift.

  “Give me that and lay down.” She held out her hand with a mischievous smile.

  He placed the bottle in her hand, his brows furrowing. “Why?”

  “Ye said ye trust me,” she beamed, “trust me now.”

  Curiosity won out and he lay down, his head on the pillow, never taking his eyes off her.

  “Och, no that way, silly.” Jeanie placed his present on the table beside her perfume and jumped onto the bed beside him. “On yer belly.”

  She watched his eyebrows shoot up in surprise before he languidly rolled over, sweeping his hair out his face to look up at her. “Now what?”

  This was what she wanted once the nice sales lady showed her the oil. To see him laid out on the bed awaiting her touch caught her breath until she realized his feet were dangling off the end of the bed. Suppressing a giggle at the sight, Jeanie brought her attention to his quizzical gaze and smiled. Taking up the bottle, she poured a little into her cupped palm and placed the bottle back down. Cinnamon and dark loam scented the air as she rubbed the oil between her hands.

  “Ye seemed to like it when I rubbed yer shoulders back home. I think ye’ll like this.”

  Her hands heated at the oils touch and she laid her hands on his back.

  With strong long strokes she distributed the oil across his back, stopping only to brush stray silky white hairs out of the way. She watched his pale complexion take on a more rosy tone as the tint of the oil slicked his skin, warming it beneath her hands. She heard and felt his shuddering sigh, and smiled as his eyes fluttered closed.

  Jeanie’s fingers slid over tense muscles, willing them to relax. Stubborn knots broke apart as she worked deeply between his shoulder blades, her thumbs and fingers gliding with the oil. She smiled when she heard him groan in a pleasure mixed with pain as her fingers found sensitive spots along the scapula.

  She trailed her fingers carefully down and around the scars on his back and felt him tense at the touch. She whispered for him to relax. The word seemed to have a magical effect and she watched his shoulders lower as he exhaled. The skin of the scars felt feathery soft hiding bunches of knots under and around them. Gently, so as not to cause him to tense up again, she spent time coaxing the muscles to release. Those she could not, she had to resign to a gradual loosening.

  She loved the feel of him beneath her fingers as she trailed lower, relaxing the muscles as if by the magic touch of her hands. His skin was soft and smooth, flawless despite the scars. She could not deny her own growing response to him as she worked lower. Every part of him was a product of his life before he was Chosen.

  One that must have been verra hard, she thought finding only long lean muscle.

  Replenishing the oil, Jeanie worked on his legs, enjoying how her fingers trailed down the slight grooves that delineated the muscles. Taut muscles relaxed and Jeanie could feel the athletic strength hidden in them. When it came to working on his feet Jeanie had to move off the bed and smiled as another groan of pleasure came from the head of the bed.

  Pleased, she finished and stood up to walk around to the side of the bed. Sitting down beside his prone form, she brushed some loose strands from his forehead. She watched his eyes slowly open, a sleepy relaxation glazing them, and he smiled.

  “That was incredible,” he sighed.

  “I’m no finished yet,” she grinned. “Roll over.”

  “I don’t think I can,” he said, his voice muffled as he buried his face in the pillow. Pale arms tightened around the pillow, hugging it so as to ancho
r him.

  Jeanie chuckled. This had gone better than she had hoped. “If ye dinna turn over I wilna be able to finish.”

  With a groan of effort, he rolled onto his back, his eyes catching hers, returning her grin with lips closed. She loved the way he stretched, arms reaching for the ceiling before lowering them to lightly rest his hands against his trim muscular abdomen.

  Picking up the bottle, Jeanie poured some more of the wonderful oil into her hand and smoothed it over his marred thigh, enjoying the sight of his naked trust. With a single passing she could feel that the muscles beneath the skin felt wrong, out of place. The scar was large and puckered. Where the scars on his back felt soft and thin, the one on his leg was rough and ugly. Finding a tight mass, she dug her in her thumbs in an attempt to work out the tension.

  He yelped, his hand crashing against hers, causing her to jump. Jeanie lifted her head to see he was sitting up, his face close to hers, and her hands dropped to her sides.

  His disconcerted expression was fixed on his leg before bringing his gaze to land on her. “That hurt,” he whispered, shaking his head, sending white strands waving. “That shouldn’t have hurt.”

  Jeanie’s mouth opened in surprise. “I’m sorry. I dinna mean to.”

  Pinched facial features relaxed. “I know, Jeanie.” He reached out to caress her face, still clearly concerned. “It’s just that it’s been centuries since I’ve felt even a twinge.” His soft whisper carried a sense of seriousness she did not understand.

  “I’ll just continue elsewhere, then?” she seductively asked, needing to change the topic.

  He met her eyes, nodded, and lay back down, a lazy grin lifting his lips as he watched her. Jeanie did not need to be a mind reader to sense what he was thinking. Massaging him had warmed not only her hands, but she was not finished yet. With a final dollop of oil in her left hand, Jeanie hiked up her shift with the other and straddled him. This was part of the massage she had a feeling he was going to enjoy the most.