“It’s a good plan,” Red says next to me. Her face is drawn with dark circles under her eyes.
With my frown deepenin’, I retort, “It’s only a good plan to you ‘cuz it gives your aspire a chance, but it just might get mine killed!”
“It gives us all a chance,” Red replies with a sorry-look. “Brennus will use Reed to hunt us. He’s an assassin, Russell. We can’t run from Reed if Brennus turns him into a Gancanagh. He knows us. He’ll slaughter the Reapers without even thinking twice and when he catches you and me…” she trails off, lookin’ green and sick. “He’ll turn us into monsters.”
“Maybe your dad could—” I begin.
“HE WON’T HELP!” Red screams at me, losin’ it. “He’ll search for Reed, but it’ll be too late and then all he will do is protect me. Not you, not Zee, or Buns and Brownie. Just me. And as for Anya, she’s practically an outlaw now.”
“She’s right,” Anya agrees. “You all are expendable and I will be punished. Our only chance is to kill the Gancanagh before they kill us.”
Brownie’s voice is calm when she asks, “What do we do?”
Anya’s eyebrow arches when she replies, “You get to distract the Seraphim.”
“Sweetie, I have just the shoes for that,” Buns says with an evil grin.
“I don’t like your plan,” I say softly, decidin’ that changin’ my tone might help get their attention.
“What don’t you like about the plan?” Anya asks me with a sigh.
“With so much to hate, where should I begin?” I counter. “Could the fact that you’re gonna get up close and personal with Brennus, a fact that would make most grown men cry, have anythin’ to do with it?”
“He is—” Anya says, but I talk over her.
“What makes you think that he won’t just crack you open like a bottle of Merlot the second you enter with Red?” I ask in a cold tone.
Anya shudders at the visual I present before sayin’, “He won’t. He wants revenge. He’ll wait to do it when he has you for an audience.”
“How do you know that?” I ask her.
“I’m a Throne. Vengeance is what I do. I understand it.”
“What makes you think it will be any different if I’m there? Do you think that magic is a game of rock, paper, scissors?” I ask, shiftin’ to my next point.
“No, but—” she sputters.
“Do you want to know a secret?” my question comes out louder than a whisper. “I don’t even know what’s gonna happen half the time when I unleash a spell. Sometimes I feel like my mind has been fractured and insanity is bleedin’ into reality. Just talkin’ ‘bout magic makes me feel like I’m caught in some crappy online chat room with shut-ins who call themselves ‘Wick-tastrophy’ and ‘Fro-dope.’”
Anya glances from me to Red. “I don’t know—what is an online chat room?” she asks, lookin’ like a little lost lamb.
Red says defensively, “Really, Russell?”
“Fine, Red,” I say between my teeth, liftin’ my finger to jab it at Anya. “Maybe you should explain the weakness of her plan. Tell her I don’t know what’s gonna happen when I try to do magic. Explain that you could be trapped in there, waitin’ for help from me to save y’all from Brennus’ greedy maw, only to find out that I let you down again—like I’ve been lettin’ her down this entire time…and I don’t even know why it’s torturin’ me ‘cuz she’s practically a stranger.”
Anya’s wings droop forward and her beautiful, sooty eyelashes come together briefly, like I’d hurt her with my comment. My heart squeezes in my chest again before she speaks with cold assurance, “You won’t be letting me down—either way—if it works or it doesn’t…it won’t matter.”
The sadness in Anya’s voice chills me enough to make me ask, “What do you mean it won’t matter?”
Her jaw is set too tight, like she’s tryin’ too hard to show no emotion. “It won’t matter because with or without you, Evie is going into that room…and so am I,” she says, straightenin’ her shoulders.
I see somethin’ then, deep in Anya’s eyes that causes my gut to ache like someone kicked me there. I don’t know how I know what it is, maybe it’s because I’ve had that look before, when I thought I had nothin’ left to lose—when Red was dyin’ in Brennus’ caves.
“It matters to me,” I reply in a gentle tone. “I care ‘bout what happens to you.”
Anya’s eyes widen a little before they narrow again. “Guilt inspired by a stranger shouldn’t pain you too long, Russell,” she replies, usin’ my words that take on the sharp edge of a knife twistin’ in my chest. “I’m bound to Earth now—pinned-down here on my own. I don’t regret coming; I wouldn’t change it if I could, but this is not my home.” She looks away from my eyes.
“So, you’re sayin’ that there’s no point in stayin’?” I ask, knowin’ that we’re not talkin’ ‘bout her goin’ somewhere else, but dyin’ in Brennus arms with his cold lips destroyin’ everthin’ that’s perfect in her.
“I’m saying that I believe the sacrifice is worth it,” she says, avoidin’ my eyes. “Revenge for what he’s done.”
A chill runs through me and I’ve never felt so cold in my life. “I need a second alone with Anya,” I say to no one in particular because my eyes never leave her face.
Red’s voice is urgent as she says, “But we need to plan—”
“I said I need to talk to my aspire. Alone,” I say forcefully, my eyes leave Anya to look at the gray eyes I feel I’ve known forever.
Evie argues, “There’s almost no time left—”
Buns puts her arm ‘round Red’s shoulders. “We’ll start getting ready, Evie,” Buns states firmly, while pullin’ her away. “I have just the right weapons for you. Black silk, I think.”
Buns and Brownie move with Evie toward the library door. After they file out, Zee gives me a “be cool” look. My chin raises just a notch in recognition of his silent advice. When the door closes behind Zee, I turn back to look at Anya, but her hand connects loudly with my cheek in a slap that turns my face away from her for a moment. My eyes narrow instantly, as it registers in my mind that she just hit me.
“What the hell?” I growl. My shirt rips from me as my wings fly out of my back and spread out wide ‘round me.
“So NOW I’m your aspire!” she growls back with her eyes even narrower than mine.
She storms towards the door of the library to leave, but I’m faster than her, gettin’ in front of her and blockin’ her way. When I put my hands on her shoulders to stop her, she grabs my finger, wrenchin’ it back. I grunt as I’m driven down on one knee in front of her. “And I’m not a moron. I can make decisions that affect my life,” she says in a silky tone.
An instant later, I spring up, pickin’ her up off her feet and heftin’ her over my shoulder, movin’ to press her against the nearest built-in bookcase. Books topple and fall from the shelves as Anya thrusts her hands to them, tryin’ to gain some leverage against me.
“Stop,” I growl. Then I look into her eyes. The churning butterflies in my gut make it imperative that I get even closer to her. My body shifts to hold her to the bookcase. Her hands fall to my shoulders to push me away, but she can’t move me at all. I’m havin’ trouble breathin’ now because she may be the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. Her cheeks are flushed and her breath is comin’ out of her in short gasps. Black lashes make her green eyes sparkle in comparison as her beautiful eyebrows scowl at me.
I lower my lips to hers, kissin’ her like I’m askin’ her the question, Are you mine?
She doesn’t respond at first, ignorin’ my question. My lips brush over hers as they silently ask again, Are you mine?
I feel the need to hold my breath, like I’ve been waitin’ for this moment all my life.
Tentatively, her arms move from my shoulders, slidin’ ‘round my neck as her kiss answers me. Anya’s lips part, and immediately, it’s as if the radiance of her skin against mine is flowin’ into me, scor
chin’ me. I groan because the intensity of it is unexpected. Her fingers tangle in my hair, causin’ all sorts of things to happen inside me that I can hardly contain. At once the ache that I’ve had surroundin’ my heart is soothed while the ache of desire builds and threatens to tear me apart.
Her fingertips slip to my cheeks, deepenin’ the kiss as she holds my face in her hands. I pull her legs up to wrap them more firmly ‘round my waist. Her dark wings push against the bookcase, pressing her tight against my chest.
Before I know that they’re there, my hands grasp the back of her body armor, shreddin’ it at the seams and pullin’ the breastplate from her. She gasps as her white halter-top beneath it is exposed. Her eyes round in surprise.
“Sorry,” I murmur, not meanin’ it, “that was botherin’ me.” I fling the armor away to the floor. My lips search hers again as a sinister desire to figure out a way to get the rest of her armor from her grows.
Anya’s eyes narrow again before her feet kick back against the wall, thrustin’ hard while her wings spread wide. It catches me off guard and propels us backward. I crash into the spiral staircase behind us that leads up to the balcony. My wings take most of the shock as I come to rest on the steps. “Sorry,” she says not meanin’ it, “I’m not Evie.” She hovers above me with a dangerous smile as she pins me down with her knees on my chest. “I’m not forgiveness and redemption. I’m violent retaliation and vengeance.”
“So you’re payback, huh?” I ask while I use my strength to grasp her shoulder and haul her beneath me so that I’m on top and she’s pressed to the stairs. “That’s good because I’m always lookin’ for a return on my investment.”
I think I’ve startled her, but I don’t give her time to respond before I’m kissin’ her again. Her arms travel up my arms and find their way behind my nape. As her fingers curl in my hair, it seems she does it more from instinct than for any other reason.
I try to beat down the lecherous need to growl as it builds in me. This attraction is so intense that I feel like I either have to get closer to her or smash somethin’. I rise from the stairs with Anya in my arms while I pull her legs around my waist. Backin’ away from the stairs, I turn: crash. My wings sweep the lamp off the small table behind me; it shatters on the floor. I spare it only a cursory glance; my mouth never leaves Anya’s.
Her hands clench in my hair. She growls against my lips, “I am not cocky. You are cocky,” she nips my bottom lip.
“Ahh,” I groan, wantin’ her to stop, but when she does, I immediately want her to do it again.
Her hands leave my hair to touch my wings. She runs her fingernails over the spines of the feathers, thick, thick, thick, the sound is like a velvet warning, makin’ some innate instinct within me thrill as my heart beats stronger in my chest.
My wings spread wide, like I’m about to fly. Clang, smash, Reed’s art is swept from a shelf as my wing levels things as I pass them so that they find new positions on the floor. Anya’s wings respond to mine, fluttering in a way that makes my fingers tighten against her skin, and even though I don’t know what that means, it makes me feel like I might die soon if I don’t have her. Then she gently strokes my wing; the muscles in my abdomen tighten. I hurry to the desk in front of us. Using my arm, I swipe it across the surface. A cascade of expensive artifacts and desk accessories strike the hardwood floor in a cavalcade of sound.
I feel like I’m between heaven and hell when I have to lift my mouth from hers as I rest her on the dark wood-grain surface of the desk. One hand slides down her side resting on the curve of her hip where her armor stops my descent. I growl in frustration, pullin’ energy to me more from instinct then premeditation. Energy leaks out from my fingertips, spreadin’ in burnin’ embers of glowin’ orange to turn the black armor to gray ash as it travels down her sides and over her thighs. The armor rapidly disappears from Anya as ash falls and floats away, leavin’ just the soft, dark leggings behind that she must’ve had on beneath the armor.
A soft gasp comes from Anya as she looks down and sees the disintegration of her defensive combat attire. Lookin’ up quickly with uncertainty in her eyes, a slow smile curls on my lips because I’ve managed to startle her again. I take control, raisin’ my hand and swiftly sliding the ponytail holder from her hair, makin’ the black waves spill ‘round her shoulders as it flows down her back. I brush stray strands of it away from her soft skin. Beautiful, I think before I kiss the spot where her hair meets her temple only to discover that the scent of her hair compels the butterflies inside me to increase in force.
“Russell,” Anya says before I can kiss her again, “wait.” She presses her hands flat against my chest.
It takes me a second to understand what she just said because I’m wrapped up in the sexy way she said my name: in a raspy groan-like whisper.
My lips tease hers, “Hmm...” I murmur against them.
“Wait,” she repeats as she tenses in my arms.
My brow furls. “Why do you have to know that word,” I growl, lookin’ in her eyes. “‘Wait’ is the worst word in the English language in a situation like this.”
“You have to wait...this is confusing—you’re not...” she manages to say before she looks away from my stare.
“I’m not what?” I ask her gently.
“You’re not...you,” she says with her eyes searchin’ mine.
“I’m sorry?” I murmur with equal confusion. “I’m not me?”
She looks so lost before she glances away again. “You just ripped away my armor, like it was nothing, then you melted it.”
“Is that a problem?” I ask. “We can get you another—”
“You ripped it off with your bare hands,” she murmurs. “It’s more...”
My eyebrows draw together in confusion as I try to make eye contact with her again. “More? What’s more?” I ask.
“You are more!” she accuses, meeting my eyes.
My eyes narrow as I try to understand her. “I’m more? How am I more?” I ask.
She bites her lower lip for a moment before she says, “Look at you,” she flicks her hand to indicate my chest, “you’ve never been this...this...big.”
“Big,” I say, my eyebrows raisin’ in surprise.
“And strong,” she adds. “We never had this attraction before,” she says, lookin’ at me uncertainly.
“The butterflies?” I ask and she nods.
Her fingertips trail over my abdomen for a second. It’s makin’ me want to growl again. My muscles tighten with the need to pull her to me. “And this—this is unreal,” her tone is accusatory again.
“Unreal?” I ask, frownin’.
“It’s like someone carved you from stone,” she says with a frown. Her hand lifts and her fingertips skim over the feathers of my wings. I inhale a breath because her touch is incredible. “And you have wings—Seraphim wings.”
“Is that bad?” I ask, hopin’ she’ll say “no.”
“You outrank me,” she admits.
“I do?” I ask, feelin’ a surge of warmth in my belly that I try to hide from her. It makes me feel powerful and I like that. I have this overwhelmin’ need to protect her and if she has to listen to me then that will help.
“Seraphim, Cherubim, Throne,” she ticks off each rank using her fingers, “in that order,” she admits with a scowl. “Right now I am Throne-Seraphim, equal to your rank. When you remove our binding, then I will be Throne only.”
“I thought that bindings were permanent,” I say with narrowin’ eyes. The thought of her removin’ my wings from her is makin’ me want to crush somethin’.
“Normally, there are very few reasons for a binding to be revoked,” she says. “One reason would be if there was a fall,” she says. “If one angel were to fall from grace, a case could be made to remove the binding between them. In our case, you made it a stipulation of this mission.”
“So right now, we’re equal rank, but if I were to unbind you, I’ll outrank you and you’ll have to lis
ten to me?” I ask for clarification.
“Grr,” Anya gives a sexy growl with her eyebrows comin’ together again, “you see! You are different now that you are part angel,” she says. “My Russell would not want me to follow his orders. My Russell would want me to be his equal in all things!”
My eyebrows come together, too. “Well, that’s great for your Russell. Your Russell got you in Paradise where it was safe. This Russell, me, new Russell,” I retort, pointin’ at my chest, “has you here on Earth where just ‘bout everythin’ ‘round us is a threat.”
“Maybe I don’t like new Russell,” Anya says with an incredibly sexy pout.
“Well, darlin’, new Russell is the only one here at the moment,” I say grimly. “So let me get this straight, we’re equal right now because you have my wings, but if I take them off you, then I’ll have authority over you?”
“Yes,” she nods stiffly. “You outrank everyone here but Evie.”
“You’d be disobeying an order if you tried to execute your plan without my permission?” I ask.
“In theory?” she counters.
“Yeah, in theory,” I repeat.
“Yes,” she says sullenly.
“Then I'm orderin’ you to stay here while we take care of Brennus,” I say, feelin’ relief like I’ve never felt before.
Anya’s scowl grows darker. “You can’t order me. I still have your wings and you need a Virtue to remove them,” she says, while stabbin’ her finger at me. “Unless you can locate a Virtue in the next few hours, I’m going back to Ireland.”
She wiggles out of my arms and climbs off the desk, straightening the little white halter-top that is hardly coverin’ her because of the way it’s almost entirely backless. I focus on the tight black leggings that accentuate her shape and I call myself every kind of idiot as I watch the sexy way she crosses the room and slams the library door closed behind her.
I shuffle over to the couch, fallin’ onto it. I grab a pillow and pull it over my face. A few minutes later I hear the door to the library open up. I sit up, hopin’ it’s Anya, but instead, I see Red standin’ by the door.
Incendiary (The Premonition Series (Volume 4)) Page 41
