Tempted (Redemption Harbor Book 1)

by Brandi Evans

  “Lyndi!” he shouted over her sounds of panic. He should have grabbed her and pulled her over when he had the chance, but he’d wanted to break the demonic hold on her slowly.

  Damn Kaia and her demonic mind games. If he ever saw her again, he’d make sure she regretted fucking with Lyndi.

  “Stop kicking, Lyn. I’m losing you, baby. Lyn. Lyn! Can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” she called back, her voice sounding weak and faraway in the wake of her terrifying cries.

  “Good. Now I need you to listen to me. I need you to give me your other hand so I can pull you up. Do you understand?” This would be much easier if he could just teleport her to the safety of the terrace. Or if he had his wings. “Lyn. Lyn! Look. At. Me.”

  She lifted her head and locked her eyes with his, and miracle of miracles, her entire body stilled. Terror painted her blue eyes a dark, un-Lyndi-like shade.

  “Are you listening, Lyn?”

  She nodded.

  “Say the words. Say, I’m listening.”

  “L-listening.”

  Close enough. “On the count of three, I’m going to let go of you with my left hand. At the exact same moment, you need to grab hold of it, okay? We’re only gonna get one shot at this.”

  “Got it,” she repeated, voice quivering but holding.

  “Okay. On three. Ready?”

  She raised her other arm high, as close to his hands as she could.

  “One,” he said.

  The vise grip around his chest tightened even more. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. His pulse pounded fast and rampant through his ears.

  He said the next number louder. “Two.”

  If this didn’t work, he would go over with her and try his damnedest to somehow get his body underneath hers, shield her from the rocks below. Maybe his immortal physiology would save him, maybe it wouldn’t. But it didn’t matter. He’d willingly sacrifice himself to save her.

  A stabbing pain seized the muscles between his shoulder blades, much like it had earlier today, but ten times worse. He didn’t have time for pain!

  He fought back the throbbing and shouted, “Three!”

  He released Lyndi’s wrist, opened his fingers, and—praise the Divine!—grabbed hold of her free hand without fumbling.

  Thank you, thank you, thank you!

  “Now, when I start to pull you up,” he instructed, the stabbing in his shoulders getting worse, “use your feet to climb the wall, okay?”

  She nodded.

  He took a deep breath. “Climb, Lyn! Climb!” He heaved her with all the upper body strength he had, which didn’t feel like a whole hell of a lot considering his position. “Come on. Come on. You’re almost—”

  Her foot slipped.

  The sudden loss of position sent her skidding back down the side of the lighthouse with so much force that his feet lifted from the platform, and he nearly went up and over the railing. A smaller man would have.

  Somehow, he managed to keep his grip on Lyndi firm. “Okay, Lyn, let’s try—”

  “No.”

  He ignored her words. “I need you to—”

  “Let…me go, S-Seth.” Her eyes locked onto his. “Don’t want to t-take you with me.”

  He shook his head without hesitation. “Not a chance in heaven or hell of that happening. I love you too damn much to let you go. If you go, I’m going too.”

  A second surge of ripping pain erupted between his shoulders, even greater than before. Fire shot down his arms, his back, his legs, as if his entire body was on fire—but on the inside and the flames were trying to find an escape route.

  Love and sheer determination forced his grip to stay firm, and his own cries of agony to remain lodged in his throat.

  “Seth, please.”

  “No, damn it,” he gasped, the inferno inside him growing hotter. “Now climb!”

  He didn’t give her a chance to object. He pulled her with everything he had left. If she didn’t help, they’d both go over, and he was willing to bet his entire existence that she’d fight to keep him from dying too.

  He’d bet correctly, and Lyndi climbed.

  With each baby step, she moved closer to him, farther away from the rocky death below. The chaos in his own body kept growing, as if muscles and tendons were being burned and ripped apart, but the pain was inconsequential. Lyndi was almost safe, almost in his arms again.

  Her head broke the plane of the walk, and Seth jammed her hand against the railing. “Hold tight to this.”

  She did, wrapping her shaking fingers around the metal.

  “Now hook your leg over the side of the ledge,” he shouted. “Just beneath the rail and hold yourself steady while I reposition my grip.”

  She didn’t answer in words, and when her leg wedged beneath the ledge, Seth grabbed at her. The slippery material of her robe evaded his grip.

  Yes! Finally. He found purchase and grabbed tight to her.

  “Can you manage to stand?” he asked.

  She nodded. Her arms trembled as she used her grip on the railing and pulled herself higher. When she managed to get a foot on the landing, she pushed slowly to her feet. It was as if three centuries passed in five seconds.

  He banded his arms around her and dragged her over the railing. To safety. Overwhelming elation mixed with the agonizing pain ripping his back apart, and he collapsed with her on the gallery walk. Tears scalded his face, and he caved to the fear, the happiness, the uncertainty, the absolute love he had for her.

  “I love you,” he cried, crushing her to him and capturing her mouth with his.

  “I love you too,” she whispered between the hard kisses. “So fucking much. I don’t know how I even got—”

  “Shit!” Another set of exploding pain detonated between his shoulders, doubling him over with the intensity. He tore away from Lyndi. What the fuck was happening to him? He hadn’t experienced anything like this since his—

  No.

  It couldn’t be.

  “Seth?” Lyndi’s uncertain voice cut through the pain. “Did you hurt yourself pulling me up?”

  “Get back!” He jerked away from her touch. “Now!”

  Pain forced him to his hands and knees. Air drudged in and out, in and out of his lungs with such force that his back bowed and flattened with each ragged inhalation.

  Bless the Divine!

  Something ripped free from his back, and excruciating pain gave way to absolute peace.

  Lyndi’s voice chiseled through the confusion swirling in his head. “What the fuck?”

  What the fuck indeed?

  Using muscles he hadn’t used in an eternity, Seth unfurled his wings. The movement felt incredible, like stretching his legs after they’d been stuck in the same position too long. He was complete again. Whole. Everything he’d been working for since he fell.

  He had his wings back, and Lyndi was safe.

  His gaze found Lyndi. Astonishment. Terror. Curiosity. Dozens of warring emotions filled her eyes; terror, however, shone brightest.

  He pushed to his feet and took a step toward her. He had to explain, to make her understand what he himself didn’t truly understand yet. “Lyn—”

  “Stay away from me.” She moved closer and closer to the balcony stairs. “I mean it. Stay away.”

  He didn’t listen. “Lyn, I know this must come as a shock, but I can explain.”

  “A shock.” Her voice pitched higher. “Yeah, it’s a fucking shock. To see you with, with… What the fuck are you?”

  Good question. Until about fifteen seconds ago, he’d been one of the Fallen. Now he wasn’t quite sure. Was he an angel again? Some weird kind of half-breed?

  The Divine’s words echoed in his mind. “The only person keeping you from getting your wings back is you.”

  “I’m an angel, Lyn.”

  She snorted.

  “I know it’s hard to believe, but I was created by the Divine when the world came into existence.” He took another step toward her, his arms outstre
tched. “And there’s more. Lots more, and I’ll tell you everything. I swear. First, can we please go somewhere private to talk?”

  Her head shook from side to side. “I don’t know who…what you are, but you’re not Seth Jones.” She turned and her feet beat a rapid rhythm on the landing as she ran down the stairs.

  Away from him.

  “Lyndi! Wait!”

  “Stay the fuck away from me!”

  He started after her, but a familiar calling stopped him.

  “Seth, brother…welcome home.”

  The song of the other angels filled him, like a soft melodic harmony of peace and tranquility. The sea of voices was the ultimate serenity, and all the trouble and anxiety he’d carried since his banishment faded into a distant, distant dissonance.

  Eleven

  Regret times misery equaled sadness to the one-hundredth power.

  The turnout for Lyndi’s first show had exceeded all her expectations—seemed her funding had never actually been cut, and her publicist denied ever calling her. She should be ecstatic, but how could she be happy when the man she loved wasn’t at her side?

  Man? Probably not the best word to describe Seth. He wasn’t even human. He was an—

  She cut the thought off at its neck. It didn’t matter what she thought he was. What she remembered and grieved for was the man she’d thought Seth was when she’d taken him into her bed. Into her body. The sweet man who seemed shy when they’d first met. The man who couldn’t put together a ten-word sentence. The man who’d spent the evening with her family, laughing and enjoying himself. The man who’d taken her to heights of ecstasy she’d never known.

  Truth was, she wanted Seth Jones back, in any form. He may not be human, but in all the ways that mattered, he’d been real to her. And she’d pushed him away in a moment of surging adrenaline and shock. Because when he’d sprouted wings, her entire world view had tilted on its axis.

  What she wouldn’t give to be able to send herself back in time and stop her runaway mouth from spewing all the hateful things she’d said.

  “I don’t know who…what you are, but you’re not Seth Jones. Stay the fuck away from me.”

  It was ironic now. Staying away from Seth was the last thing she wanted. She’d trade her phenomenal gallery opening if she could have Seth back. Even if for a day.

  She’d “prayed” to him—not that anyone could actually pray to an angel, but it had been worth a shot—and begged him to come back to her.

  He hadn’t answered.

  She knew he was near, though. He’d repaired her studio and the paintings she’d destroyed. At least that was how she liked to think all those repairs had been made, that Seth was watching after her, even though he wouldn’t show himself to her.

  Seth.

  Forever her protector. Just like in his painting.

  She’d finished The Guardian the day after her hurtful words, when her adrenaline spike and shock had worn off and she’d been able to think about things. So many events from that day remained a mystery, like how she’d gotten on the landing in the first place. How Seth had found her, which probably had something to do with his—you can say the words, Lyn—angelic abilities. And, of course, his sprouting wings. Two big, beautiful white wings, like the ones she’d painted for him.

  She hated irony but her situation was undoubtedly ironic.

  Seth had seemed heroic the night they’d met. Even then, she must have, at least on some level, known what he was. He’d come out of nowhere when he thought she’d needed help. And on the lighthouse the following day, he’d saved her life, despite her plea for him to let her fall.

  Seth had been her Guardian Angel, even before he’d grown wings. How would she get over someone like him?

  Traci and Mari came alongside her, one sister on either arm. “You have to stop thinking about him,” Mari murmured. “It’s not healthy.”

  Lyndi shook her head. “I wasn’t—”

  “Liar.” Traci draped an arm over Lyndi’s shoulder and squeezed. “You’re always thinking about him. Always. Besides, you’re looking at his painting again.”

  Lyndi’s head dropped forward in shame. Although she hadn’t told her sisters the full story about what all happened with Seth—hello, she hardly believed what she’d experienced—they knew enough.

  “Why don’t we stay with you tonight?” Traci offered. “We can have a sister-bonding night and wallow in our men-less misery.”

  Lyndi forced a laugh. “Minor kink in your plan there, Trace. You’re not man-less. Your wonderful husband is just out of the country at the moment, but he’ll be back.”

  “God, I hope so.” Traci looked heavenward, as if willing God to keep her husband safe. If prayers worked that way, Seth would be here.

  “Anyway,” Mari picked up where Traci left off, “are you up for company, sis? The kids are with Paul tonight, so I’m kid and man free for the evening.”

  Lyndi should say yes, but the thing was, she’d been so un-alone as the madness of the show had swept her up. Tonight, she wanted some alone time to take off her mask of composure and let her misery breathe. For a while anyway.

  “Not tonight.” Lyndi offered her sisters a weak smile. “Maybe tomorrow?”

  “All right. Tomorrow then?” Traci said.

  Lyndi nodded.

  “Good.” Traci gave Lyndi a peck on the cheek.

  Mari copied the move. “Want us to lock up for you?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind,” Lyndi answered. “I want to look around a little longer before going upstairs. Most of these portraits are going to new homes tomorrow.”

  “Sure thing.” Traci gave Lyndi one last hug then waddled away, Mari right behind her, leaving Lyndi alone to mingle with her art.

  Only one painting, however, would have her undivided attention tonight.

  The Guardian.

  Voices mingled and echoed across the room, followed by the thud of the door being pulled shut. Mari and Traci were gone, which meant Lyndi could officially break down.

  And her tears didn’t disappoint.

  Trembling fingertips traced the contours of Seth’s painted wings. Would she ever see him again? Probably not. He was in heaven, or wherever angels went, which begged an important question, one she’d been wondering for days.

  What had he been doing on Earth in the first place?

  Although she assumed his interest was feigned, he’d been intrigued about her ponderings of angels and demons. How they each had both good and evil, how the Fallen had given in to the bad.

  Was Seth one of these Fallen? The notion seemed impossible. He was too damn pure.

  Maybe another glass of coconut rum would help her come up with some answers. At the very least, help her forget the question.

  Sighing, she picked up the painting and headed to her loft. The ride up the rickety old freight elevator seemed to take forever. Maybe, with the money she made from sales during her show, she could have a better elevator put in.

  With a lurch and a hiss, the elevator stopped, and the doors squeezed open. Most of the way open anyway. “Great.”

  Sucking in to make herself as small as possible, she pushed her way through the doors. When she was almost through, her ridiculous gown—with its thigh-high slit and crisscrossing back—snagged on the door. And ripped.

  “Well that’s just great.”

  “I think it did its job,” a familiar voice said. “You look beyond beautiful, Lyn. As always.”

  Her heart stopped. Seth, all six-foot-nine of him, stood across the room sans wings. He wore a loose shirt and cotton pants, his shoulder-length hair pulled back from his face. In the few days she’d known him, his hair had always been down, hiding parts of him from the rest of the world. Now, with it up, he looked…vulnerable.

  No way this—he—was real. Her mind was playing tricks on her again.

  She closed her eyes. Seth was gone and he had wings now. Yet the small part of her heart—the part where hope lived despite the choking weeds of
denial—had her asking the one question pinballing in her head.

  “If I open my eyes, will you still be there?”

  “Yes.” Sadness and uncertainty cloaked his voice as he added, “Unless you’d rather I not be here when you open your eyes.”

  “No,” she whispered. “Please stay.”

  She opened her eyes and—thank you, God—he was still there. He looked as nervous as she felt. She wanted to run to him, to throw her arms around him, and to kiss him for a month straight. She settled for placing the painting on the breakfast table and taking a few wary steps toward him.

  Reconciliation probably wasn’t the motivation for this visit. Most likely, he’d come to tell her, officially, things were over between them, that he’d spend the rest of time in heaven. That she needed to get on with her life.

  “Misplaced your wings already?” she asked, figuring he’d camouflaged them somehow to keep her from feeling scared.

  She’d tried to make a joke out of it, a feeble attempt to keep from sounding as vulnerable as he looked. No need to make him feel worse for leaving her behind. She loved him too much for that.

  He shook his head.

  She pursed her lips. She’d been going for light humor, but his expression only grew darker. Putting her lousy sense of humor aside, she decided to go for the big question right off the bat.

  “Why are you here, Seth?”

  “I was hoping we could talk.”

  “Talk?” Forcing her hands not to shake, she motioned him toward the sofa. “About what?”

  His feet remained rooted to the spot.

  What can I do to make this easier for you, Seth?

  She knew he couldn’t hear her unspoken words—or could he? Either way, thinking them made her feel better.

  “I’m sorry,” he began, his eyes lowering and locking on some undetermined point on the floor. “I let things get out of hand between us. I know that. It’s just…” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Shit, Lyn, I don’t even know where to fucking start.”