Isobel: (Dark Warrior Alliance Book Six)

by Brenda Trim

  Zander closed his eyes and did as she instructed, sending his energy to the center, towards the lit candle. The room was silent, even Isobel seemed to participate as each of them breathed in and out. Within minutes, Zander could feel their efforts sync as they began breathing as one.

  Illianna’s soft, monotonous tone interrupted, almost breaking his concentration, “My beloved Guardian Angel, come here with me, I call you for the babe, Isobel,” Illianna whispered. Zander’s eyes snapped open to pitch-blackness. The candle’s flame had gone out. For a brief second, he questioned if a breeze from the overhead fan had blown it out. His heart skipped several beats and his breath hitched. Suddenly, a flame burst to the candle, illuminating the room.

  In the shadows a few feet away stood a male. Dirty-blonde hair was cropped short and dark blue eyes looked straight ahead, showing no emotion. His brown toga stretched to bare feet and matched his massive brown wings tipped with black. He was about six feet tall, lean with a muscular build. It struck Zander as odd that the angel didn’t seem friendly or happy, but maybe that was expected from guardians.

  Zander didn’t give a shit if he was the surliest being on the planet as long as Isobel was protected. But what was most disturbing was the way he was staring at Elsie and only her gasp snagged Zander’s attention from the angel.

  “Dalton,” she whispered, fainting in Zander’s arms, and then the male disappeared.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “I cannot do what you are asking!” Ramiel shouted, glaring at Camael. His name hadn’t always been Ramiel, and he had just received a painful reminder of the man he used to be.

  “You didn’t mention my task involved Elsie. I can’t do it!” he spat, indignant at what was being asked of him. How much did they think he could take before shattering into tiny pieces?

  “And, I thought you understood, Rami. This isn’t supposed to be easy. This position you seek isn’t merely a title handed to you on a silver platter. In order to become an Angel of Retribution, your heart is tribute,” Camael divulged dispassionately.

  The archangel that had become his boss that fateful day years ago was always cold, almost clinical when he spoke to him and his fellow angels. He wondered what had happened to Camael in his past to explain why he was a hardened dickhead most of the time. Ramiel was one of the few that captured a glimpse inside the stoic leader, to the heart that felt so much it was frightening. Rami thought if this man ever unleashed his emotions, the good or the bad, they would consume the object of his attention. He reminded himself never to piss off the chief.

  “You might have mentioned a dagger was going to be stabbed through my heart first,” he countered cynically.

  “Maybe you should rethink this path you’ve chosen,” Camael offered.

  There was no second-guessing or doubting the path he’d chosen. He’d been attacked and brutally murdered by monsters. Monsters he’d learned were skirm, who were basically mindless minions created by archdemons and were scattered throughout the world to feed off the innocent blood of humans. He could still see their soulless, black pits and feel their fangs viciously ripping at his throat.

  It wasn’t the memory of his death that consumed his every waking moment. It was the fact that he was taken from the one person who mattered most to him. The love of his life, his best friend, his soul-mate.

  Elsie…

  She was his everything and had been ripped from his life right along with the flesh from his body.

  That had been the driving force behind his decision. There was no option other than to be an Angel of Retribution. Many had suggested becoming a Warrior Angel, fighting for justice and good, but that wasn’t enough. He needed vengeance. To hunt the evil plaguing Earth and return that wickedness tenfold. That was the only fair verdict for the trial he never received. The only solution to calm the raging storm in his blood.

  “No, there is no other path. I need this, Chief. Surely, you can assign me to another. Hell, give me ten tasks, as long as I never have to see her again,” he implored.

  It doesn’t matter if you never see her again, his conscious whispered. She was tattooed on his brain and engraved on his heart. What made matters worse was that she looked exactly the same as he remembered. From her long, curly brown hair to sky-blue eyes he wanted to drown in and a heart-shaped face meant to be smothered in kisses.

  He was surprised he wasn’t bleeding profusely given it felt that he’d been stabbed all over again. Hell, he’d nearly fallen to his knees the moment he saw her.

  He had specifically avoided going to her after his death because he couldn’t stand the physical or emotional havoc it wreaked on his body. But, that didn’t free him of her hold on his soul.

  She haunted his dreams and tortured his waking hours. There hadn’t been a single day in the past two years that she had slipped his mind. His entire existence still revolved around her.

  Seeing her made a thousand questions run through his head. Was it her child he was sent to protect? Was she married to one of the men in the room? Did she think about him at all?

  When she had whispered that name from his past, it was his undoing and he disappeared before making a fool of himself. He hadn’t escaped soon enough though. She’d whispered his human name. Dalton. He hadn’t spoken it aloud since arriving in Heaven. And he never would. It was a part of his past and he couldn’t afford to entertain one moment of it or he would be paralyzed by the loss. He could never go back to the life or woman he had loved so deeply.

  “This is not up for debate, Rami. You love this woman, right?” he asked, his white wings ruffling as he walked over and stood toe to toe with Ramiel. His silver eyes stared straight through to Ramiel’s soul and Rami could feel his power wrapping around his heart and squeezing, no doubt testing truth from lie.

  Camael was a large man, at least a head taller than his own five-ten height. His salt and pepper hair was slightly shorter than his well-groomed dark beard. Angels aged, but at a very slow pace, and, although Cami had never told him his exact age, Rami guessed him to be well over a thousand.

  “That’s not fair. Loving her is no longer an option, you know this,” he replied.

  “I’ll rephrase. You used to love her, more than anything else,” Camael muttered.

  Rami didn’t have to answer. They had talked about Elsie more than once and Camael knew the grief he’d experienced when he lost her. Ramiel considered Camael a close friend, a father figure, even. He had taken him into his home, taught and trained him about angel life.

  “Yes, beyond words,” Rami whispered.

  “Then you must know this. Her newborn child is in great danger.” Rami staggered under Camael’s words as reality slammed into him. Elsie had a child with another man. He felt betrayed. It didn’t matter that it was an irrational emotion and unreasonable, it had him struggling for breath. He rubbed his chest, trying to coax oxygen to his lungs.

  “She needs a Guardian Angel in the worst way,” his boss continued without concern that Ramiel was on the verge of suffocation. “I sent you not because I am anxious for you to move forward, but because I believe you are the best suited. The only one with the fire and motivation to succeed. You can turn away, and I will think no less of you. Choose another path, or remain in your current position. There is no shame in that. We need angels from all segments to work efficiently,” the archangel assured, patting him on the shoulder.

  Ramiel looked down at his brown toga. He was part of the Dominions, angels without a specific calling. Yes, all classes were needed to keep order, but he was more driven than that. He wanted purpose and meaning and longed to receive the black wings of an Angel of Retribution.

  Question was. Could he do this? Protect Elsie’s child. A child she’d had with another. The mere thought had his blood boiling with jealousy and rage.

  He frantically shook his head, rubbing his forehead to will away a pounding headache. “I don’t know, let me think about it and I’ll get back to you,” he professed, walking towards his quarte
rs. He closed the door to his room, shutting out the world to drown in his sorrow.

  *****

  Elsie lay flat on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. She was still reeling from shock. She’d fainted the moment she’d seen the man she’d been married to. Her past reared its ugly head, returning to haunt her present. He had been torn violently from her life and she thought she’d never see him again. And it had taken over a year to gain some semblance of a normal life.

  The disappointment sat like a brick on her stomach when she came to and realized that Dalton had immediately disappeared. Still, she couldn’t wrap her brain around any of it. Dalton was alive. Well, not exactly, but he was an angel and not the corpse in a coffin she always imagined.

  She knew Zander was worried sick about her. It hadn’t helped that her only response to her mate after coming to had been that she needed to be alone. She couldn’t talk about it with him just yet. As soon as she’d seen Dalton’s handsome face, she’d been transported back in time. Back to a time when she was young, in love, happy, and, more importantly, way too naïve.

  She longed to be that carefree, ignorant college student again. Unaware of the skirm that preyed on the innocent and the demons that stalked the night. Of course to go back to that time meant she would also be oblivious to the Dark Warriors that silently protected humans and the love of Zander.

  What she had with Zander consumed her whole and was so different from what she’d had with Dalton. But, that didn’t mean her feelings for Dalton disappeared so easily. She had grown up with him. He’d been her best friend for more years than she could remember. She loved him and always would. She just didn’t know what that meant anymore.

  As soon as she saw Dalton, she wanted to run and throw her arms around his neck. Instead, she froze before dizziness assailed her and that was all she remembered. Now, countless questions consumed her mind and all she wanted was to see him again. Why was he the one who showed up when they called upon a guardian for Isobel? What had he been doing all this time? And, why the hell hadn’t he reached out to her when she was at her lowest point and grieving.

  A ruffling sound brought her head around. Her eyes bulged when she saw him standing a few feet away. “Dalton,” she breathed, sitting up and praying she didn’t faint again.

  “It’s Ramiel now,” he replied softly, rubbing his hands together. He had always done that when he was nervous. “Dalton is dead.”

  She flinched at his words and it took a minute to remind herself he was really in front of her. His large wings reminded her he’d returned as an angel. They were elegantly folded against his back while his toga showcased his muscular shoulders and arms. He had been a third-degree black belt and in superb physical shape when he was human, and apparently, that hadn’t changed.

  “Oh, I see. Would you like to sit and talk?” she muttered, gesturing to the chair beside the sofa. “I have so many questions, and stuff I want to tell you, but honestly, I don’t have a clue where to begin,” she added, bringing her feet off the carpet and tucking them under her legs.

  He walked to the chair and sat, but didn’t attempt to hide his discomfort. His dirty-blonde hair was short on the sides and in the back, but longer on top, falling down over one blue eye. “I suppose we both have tons of questions. You go first,” he smiled, causing a dimple to appear on his right cheek. She had always loved that dimple and a pang of hurt crushed her chest. It seemed a lifetime ago that she was married to this man. They’d both lost so much yet it seemed each of them had managed to find a new life.

  “Okay, what happened the night you were killed?” She might as well get right to the point. For all she knew, he’d bolt on a moment’s notice, leaving her with more questions than answers.

  “Seriously? I show up, sporting wings and that’s what you ask? You obviously know more about supernaturals than I realized.” His eyes burned through her and made butterflies take flight in her stomach. She’d never seen such anger in his beautiful eyes. She couldn’t recall him ever snapping at her like that.

  “You could say I was forced to take off the rose-colored glasses. Your death changed me, Dalton, so yes, I know a lot more than I did before,” she responded.

  “I told you, it’s Rami or Ramiel, not Dalton. But, fair enough. That night, I was sitting in my office, filing paperwork, and the next thing I know, the kids in the house became creatures with fangs and attacked me. I had no idea what was happening. I fought them off as best I could, but they’d inflicted countless wounds from both their fangs and a knife. In the end, something spooked them and they fled, leaving me for dead. I tried calling you…” he trailed off, staring into her eyes.

  He had called, but she’d missed it, leaving her a voice mail. A voice mail she had listened to thousands of times after he was gone.

  “I know,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

  He jumped from the chair and was in front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He felt so familiar, and yet, so different. He had the same fresh, clean scent that she always loved, but there was a hint of something sweet, as well. She wouldn’t have thought roses could be masculine but coming off him it was. Tears spilled over, flowing down her cheeks when she felt his wings flutter. Everything had been taken from them in one fleeting moment and all the hurt and pain flooded to the surface. He pulled away, searching her eyes as he cupped her face and brushed away the tears with his thumbs.

  The door flew open and Zander stormed in, “A ghra, what is wrong. I felt your pain,” he barked, and then stopped when he saw them. “You best take your hands off my mate before you lose them, Dalton,” he growled.

  “It’s Ramiel, dammit!” Rami barked at the same time Elsie jumped up and went to Zander’s side.

  “It’s fine, it’s not what you think at all. I was having a moment and he hugged me, that’s all,” she assured her mate, hoping to calm him. “I was asking Dalton, I mean, Ramiel, what happened the night he was murdered. It just upset me, that’s it, okay?”

  “I doona know how things work in your realm, but here, touching a male’s mate doesna bode well, got it?” Zander demanded, having a stare off with Ramiel, ignoring what she had said.

  Elsie worried her mate was going to attack the angel before they could get his help. In that moment, Elsie suddenly knew that she wanted it to be Ramiel who protected her daughter. She couldn’t think of anyone better suited. In his human life, Dalton had been a man of integrity and dedicated to any path he took. His career was so much more than a job to him and he gave it a hundred and ten percent effort. Not to mention, he was a perfectionist who never overlooked even the small things.

  Ramiel stood and walked over. “Got it. As long as you understand I won’t sit by and watch her cry. I don’t play that game,” he gritted out.

  Elsie sighed. This wasn’t going well and she needed to rectify the situation. “Zander, baby, can you please give me a few minutes with Ramiel. I need some answers,” she pleaded, sending him a mental message that she didn’t want Ramiel fleeing again. If he was the answer to protecting Isobel they were going to have to work with him, not against.

  “Aye, but not for long. Isobel will need to be fed soon. I’ll bring her back shortly,” he divulged, bringing her to his body and claiming her lips. His kiss was possessive and he was clearly making a point. He looked pointedly toward Ramiel and left the room, leaving the door ajar.

  “Nice guy, where’d you meet him?” Ramiel jeered.

  She paused, not knowing where to begin with that story. “Umm, in a nutshell, he’s friends with the detectives that were assigned to your murder case,” she replied. “Zander helped me through my grief with patience, kindness and love.”

  He bristled at the comment. Walking back towards the furniture, he asked, “So what’s his story? What does he do?”

  She had no idea what he’d think about her new life, but she’d never lied to this man and she wasn’t about to start now. “He’s the Vampire King and leads the Dark Warriors,” she stated honest
ly. “We are mated, and I’m the…Vampire Queen,” she added, hesitantly as she lifted her shoulders in uncertainty.

  His expression quickly turned to anger, “You married one of those fuckers that killed me? How could you, Elsie? You know what, I’m out. You can kiss my ass!” he blurted.

  “No! He’s not a skirm. It’s not like that at all. He’s nothing like what attacked you. In fact, the Dark Warriors protect the humans against those pieces of shits! Look at me!” she shouted, grabbing his arm and spinning him towards her. “I would never lie to you. Please, believe me” she begged.

  When he didn’t respond, she spouted, “And, exactly what’s your excuse for not reaching out to me, Mr. Holier-than-thou? I needed you. My life went to shit, ya know. I joined a vigilante group hunting skirm and was nearly killed on more than one occasion. I would never touch one of those bastards unless it was to plunge my titanium blade through its heart. Did you even think about me?” she glared, hands on her hips. Maybe a taste of his own medicine would open his eyes.