“He went to the stables to attend to his horse, so we haven’t much time.” The blonde quickly crossed the hall, joining Alyssa before the hearth. “Look at me and think. Clear your mind and think.”
“What am I thinking about?” Alyssa smiled and met her friend’s dark gaze, confused by the desperation she read there.
“How long have you known me? How did we meet?”
“We…” Mists swirled within her mind, sweeping the answer beyond her grasp. Alyssa blinked repeatedly, trying to bring them back. “I’ve known you…”
“Oh Alyssa. You must try! Sariel has come to judge her! You must remember what you are.”
Goose bumps rose along her arms and tension gripped her belly. “What I am? You’re frightening me. Sariel has come to judge whom?” Slipping her hands through the slits in the front of her cotehardie, Alyssa grasped the fabric of her underdress. “You must mean Rosalind, but what could she have done to—”
The iron-banded door swung open, interrupting Alyssa’s words. Sariel paused in the threshold, the setting sun at his back. Tall and broad-shouldered, his body filled the doorway. Alyssa swallowed hard. Thick tawny hair flowed in shiny waves to the middle of his back. Though unfashionable, the choice somehow suited him. The undeniable urge to comb her fingers through those soft-looking strands startled Alyssa. Responsibilities pressed in on her from every direction, and she was lusting after a stranger? Had she taken leave of her senses?
He stepped into the hall and released the door. It groaned then swung shut under its own weight. His torso shifted and Alyssa saw the outline of scalloped wings shimmering in the sunlight. Gasping softly, she blinked and the image disappeared.
Trepidation twisted through her abdomen.
Wings? Why would she imagine wings upon this man?
No one spoke as he moved to stand beside Lailah. Firelight illuminated his angular features and accented his glittering eyes. Sharp cheekbones and a distinct jaw constructed a face uncompromisingly masculine. And yet she found him beautiful. Sculpted, the bottom lip slightly fuller than the top, he held his mouth in a grim, unsmiling line.
Her wayward gaze focused on his mouth. What would it feel like to tangle her fingers in his hair and kiss that unsmiling mouth? Why was he so angry? What made him seem so fierce? She shook away her speculation. Why would she want to kiss someone both angry and fierce?
A lazy sweep of thick lashes drew Alyssa’s attention to his eyes. Glistening shards of gold decorated the surface of his rich green gaze. For just a moment there seemed to be a distinct pattern to the shards, like a golden constellation in a vivid green sky. He blinked again and the pattern scattered.
The tension gripping her stomach released in a tingling flutter.
“Milady, please accept my gratitude for your hospitality. I shall endeavor not to overstay my welcome.” He tossed back his mantle, revealing a richly decorated, parti-colored tunic. The gold half had been embroidered in green, the green half embroidered in gold. Not since court had Alyssa seen garments so fine.
“Your welcome has yet to be determined.” Forced to crane her neck, she managed to meet his gaze. “Why are you here?”
He looked at Lailah before responding. “How did Rosalind come to be your ward? Are you a blood relation?”
Images rolled and shifted within her mind, undulating in and out of focus. A frail woman with vivid blue eyes. Craggy features contorted with sorrow. “I… She… I swore an oath to keep the Monthamns safe and have dedicated myself to fulfilling that vow.”
“To whom was this vow made? How long have you been at Monthamn Castle?” He tilted his head and the firelight danced in his gaze.
Alyssa clenched and unclenched her fists. Why should she be intimidated by his questions? He was the one with dubious intentions.
“The Black Death swept through this area five years past with devastating results. Rosalind lost her parents, two brothers and her grandmother, whom she loved above all others, all in one agonizing season. She didn’t speak for nearly a year when first we arrived.”
“This plague has left its mark upon us all, but you didn’t answer my question. To whom did you make your vow?”
Raising her chin a notch, Alyssa debated what to say. She knew the answer, but she knew she would sound mad speaking the name. How could she have made such a vow to Lady Naomi two centuries before? “We were speaking of you, sir. Explain what brings you to Monthamn Castle or depart the way you came.”
A lazy, arrogant smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “I’m afraid I answer to a higher power than you, milady. My business is with Lady Rosalind and I can’t allow you to interfere.”
“Rosalind is my ward.” Protectiveness rose within Alyssa. No one threatened a Monthamn without dealing with her! “Any business you think you have with her is entirely my affair. I’m uncomfortable with your tone and your—”
“Unfortunately, I’m not in a position to consider your comfort. If you prefer, I’ll not stay in the hall, I’ll sleep in the barracks with the guards.”
“I prefer you gather your belongings and get off this land.” She spoke with tight-lipped control.
He inclined his head. “I understand your preference, but that’s not an option.”
“Oh, I assure you it’s an option. I’ll have your horse readied and—”
“Alyssa.” Lailah preempted the remainder of her words.
“What?” She glared at her friend.
“Let Sariel go to his chamber. We need to talk.”
“Sariel isn’t going anywhere so long as he persists in this belief that he—”
“Is a messenger sent from God?”
The authority in his deep voice drove Alyssa back a step. He hadn’t spoken loudly, but the question reverberated through her entire body. She pressed her hand over her pounding heart. Wings. Angel’s wings. But this fierce man couldn’t possibly be an angel. He was too…savage!
“I’ll return in a moment,” Lailah said as she led the tall stranger away.
Alyssa watched their retreat, conflicted and confused. The fire warmed her back while cool autumn air seeped through her clothing, compounding her uncertainty. Why did she feel so muddled? Thoughts danced around her, taunting her, just out of reach.
What was wrong with her?
Shifting her feet on the woven rush mat, she turned to face the fire. Bright tapestries covered the stone walls and expensive glass enclosed the narrow windows, and still Alyssa shivered.
You must remember what you are.
Lailah’s words echoed through her mind and another violent shiver shook her slender frame. What, not who. She needed to remember what she was.
She heard a shuffling behind her and turned around. Lailah had returned, alone, her dark eyes filled with frustration and fear. Alyssa had no doubt she’d caused the frustration, but why was Lailah afraid?
“Am I…” Alyssa’s mouth was so dry she couldn’t form the words. She took a deep breath and tried again. “Am I an angel?”
Chapter Two
“What do you remember clearly?” Lailah dragged a bench closer to the fire and sat as Alyssa considered the question.
Pushing her fingers through her hair, Alyssa combed the curling strands out of her eyes. “I remember Naomi.”
“Aye. She was the answer to Sariel’s question. It was to Naomi you gave your vow.”
“But Naomi of Monthamn lived over two hundred years ago.”
“True.” Lailah glanced into the fire. Its wavering light cast eerie shadows across her delicate features. “What else do you remember?”
“I was alive two hundred years ago?” Her heart pounded. Deep in her being she already knew the answer, had always known.
“Aye. And two hundred years before that. Do you remember Gideon?”
Eyes like molten gold and a smile that made her stomach flutter. Gideon. His image solidified within the haze. Dark, brooding Gideon. “I remember.”
“What do you remember?”
She l
icked her lips, frustrated by the ever-swirling mists within her mind. “He was there that day. So were you. We were all there when…”
“When what? What happened? Tell me what you remember.”
A vision hovered on the edge of her consciousness. She sensed its importance, the rippling effects of that one event. Everything had changed that day. Her very nature had evolved.
Michael.
With angelic illumination so bright it stung the eyes, the archangel’s image flashed within Alyssa’s mind.
“No,” she cried as the vision flickered and dispersed.
Disheartened by her failure, Alyssa focused on a more recent happening, a memory she could remember clearly. “When Naomi passed away. Gideon was heartbroken. They had lived long, full lives, but still his anguish was unbearable.”
Lailah shook her head, disappointment clear in her dark gaze. “Nay. Go back farther, much farther, before Gideon met Naomi.”
“Why do you not simply tell her the truth?” Sariel’s deep voice emanated from behind them. “If she has forgotten what brought her here, explain it to her.”
Alyssa turned her head and found Sariel standing in the shadows beyond the firelight. Her heart gave a little leap and heat settled deep in her belly. Lailah had only just returned. He must have been two steps behind.
“I’ve explained it to her a hundred times, Sariel. She confuses the details before I finish speaking them. She must remember for herself or—” She broke off, unable to complete the sentence.
“Gideon loved Naomi,” Alyssa said emphatically. She didn’t understand Lailah’s disappointment, but she was certain of that fact.
“Aye. Gideon loved Naomi very much.”
“Then what am I not remembering?”
Lailah heaved an audible sigh and stood. The firelight accented the contrast between her alabaster skin and her night-black eyes. “Think about Gideon, not Naomi. Gideon is the key.”
“The key to what?” Again Alyssa sensed her friend’s frustration but didn’t understand the cause. Lailah’s disappointment compounded her own anxiety.
“I’ve been given my next assignment. I have to leave in the morning. I’ll only be gone a few days. Sariel has promised not to pass judgment until I return.”
“Pass judgment?” Alyssa’s voice snapped with indignation. “Who is he to pass judgment on Rosalind? Of what is she accused?”
“I’m not obligated to extend even this courtesy.” His deep voice made the words sound like a growl. “Don’t antagonize me.”
Alyssa gasped at his arrogance. “My questions remain. Who are you to pass judgment on Rosalind and what is her crime?”
“I am Sariel, Prince of the Angelic Order of Grigori. If Rosalind is a Nephilim, as I believe, then I have been sanctioned and ordained by Almighty God to pass judgment upon her.”
Staggering back a step, Alyssa shook her head. “A Nephilim? Half human and half angel? It’s not possible. The Nephilim were killed in the Great Flood.”
“Accounts of their extinction have been greatly exaggerated, I assure you.” Sariel crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowed and glistening.
What was he talking about? None of this made sense, and it wasn’t just her muddled memory confusing the issue. “You’re inferring one of Rosalind’s parents was an angel. Can the Black Death kill an angel?” She raised her brow in silent challenge. “You must be mistaken.”
“Death is easy for an angel to simulate, especially when they’re ready to move on. I have yet to make my final decision, but Rosalind’s nature is not entirely human.”
“Gideon.” Alyssa beamed, relief driving away her fear. “Of course. That must be what you’re sensing. Gideon was an angel…” Her words trailed away as her thoughts collapsed in on themselves. What had she been about to say? How did she know Gideon was an angel?
Her gaze darted to Lailah and the hope shining in her eyes made Alyssa’s confusion all the more frustrating. Gideon was the key. She had to think about Gideon. But what did Gideon have to do with Sariel?
What was the problem again?
Raking her fingers through her tousled hair, Alyssa surrendered to the mist. It was useless. The harder she concentrated, the more confused she became.
“Where are you going?” Alyssa asked Lailah, embarrassed by her uselessness.
“You know where I’m going. Where do I always go?”
Alyssa didn’t respond. She should know the answer but she didn’t. Why didn’t she know? Was her condition getting worse? Panic surged through her in violent waves. Her thoughts spun faster. Was she going mad? With all this talk of angels and living countless centuries, it was little wonder she was confused.
“I must speak with Mae.” Though filled with frustration and conflict, the present made more sense than the past. “Perhaps she can tell me what has Rosalind so distraught.”
“I’m sure she can, but why would she?” Lailah averted her gaze before adding, “You’ve made your opinion of her no secret.”
“Who is Mae?”
Alyssa looked at Sariel, captivated by his virility. He emanated power, radiated strength and masculine appeal. He expected her to believe he was an angel? A messenger dispatched from the throne of God? Ridiculous!
“She is Rosalind’s best friend.” Alyssa dragged her gaze away from his rugged features and glanced back into the fire. Looking at him made her want to touch, to explore the length and breadth of his powerful body. She may not remember yesteryear, but she remembered desire, and she desired Sariel. “They’ve known each other since childhood.”
“Then Mae would have known Rosalind’s parents.”
Her gaze collided with his. He couldn’t be serious about this Nephilim nonsense, could he? “I suppose. Mae was only twelve when the Plague hit, but she might be able to put this foolishness to rest.”
“Darkness has fallen.” He pointed out. “Should we wait until morning?”
“Why? Are you afraid of the dark?” She looked into his eyes and smiled.
“There is very little that frightens me.”
Heat curled through her, setting off tingles in the most inappropriate places. Her nipples gathered against her chemise and a deep, aching pulse thrummed in her feminine core. Was she actually lusting after…an angel of God?
Clearing her throat, she turned away. “Let me fetch my mantle.”
Lailah fell into step beside Alyssa as she headed for her bedchamber.
“You are playing with fire, my friend.” Lailah scowled, her tone hushed and urgent. “Sariel is not a man to trifle with. I saw the way you looked at him. He will—”
“You would have me believe he is not a man at all. If Sariel is truly an angel, I have nothing to fear from him.”
“He is of the Order of Grigori. Do you remember what that means? Who they were? What they did?”
“Of course I remember.”
Lailah grabbed her arm, halting her hurried pace. “You will never get better until you stop lying to yourself. You don’t remember. Why did you say that you do?”
Alyssa twisted out of Lailah’s grasp. “I do remember. The Grigori were the oldest and most powerful angelic order. They were myths, legends, nothing more.”
“Nay. They were real. Everything you’ve heard about them is true. I didn’t believe the stories either until Sariel and I were sent on a mission together.”
“Prince Sariel of the Order of Grigori?” She punctuated the question with a mocking smile.
Lailah shook her head, her dark eyes flashing disapproval. “Do not make light of him. He will not tolerate your insubordination. He is more ruthless than you can possibly imagine. He only becomes involved in the most complicated cases, the rest he delegates to those under his command.” She paused, laying her hand on Alyssa’s arm. “I know this is confusing, but you must understand one thing. He has promised not to harm Rosalind until I return. He has promised nothing regarding you.”
“Are you trying to frighten me?”
“A
ye. Be careful, be wary, be terrified. Whatever you do, do not let him touch you!”
* * * * *
Darkness embraced Sariel more snugly than his ermine-trimmed cloak. Alyssa strode along beside him, her back straight, her head held high. She hadn’t spoken since they crossed the river. He wasn’t sure what Lailah had told her. No doubt some dire warning. Alyssa refused to meet his gaze and avoided even the most casual touch.
She licked her lips. He drew in a slow, deep breath, expecting the acrid scent of fear. Faint, alluring, unmistakable, the musk of desire filled his nose. Shock slammed through him. She was aroused by him? Startled yet intrigued, he reached out and scanned her thoughts.
Chaotic. Jumbled. Swirling images he didn’t understand combined with a vivid representation of his half-naked body. He grinned. The little spitfire was fantasizing about him. Her imagination rapidly worked to divest him of his clothing. Her hands caressed his naked flesh, squeezed his shoulders and traced the distinct ridge dissecting his abdomen. Her image reached for the lacings on his hose and his cock bucked in eager agreement.
“It would benefit you greatly to think of something else.”
Her laughter sounded forced and strangled. “What do you believe occupies my thoughts?”
He stepped into her path then turned to face her. She collided with his chest then scrambled back a step. “You were picturing me unclothed, wondering what it would feel like to touch me, to have my hands caressing you as I parted your thighs and—”
“Enough,” she said sharply, placing her palm on the middle of his chest. “If I was…I apologize for…having impure thoughts about you.”
He didn’t move. The warmth of her hand seeped through his garments, stirring fantasies of his own. He pictured her sinking to her knees, completing the task she’d begun in her mind and taking his rapidly hardening length into her warm, wet mouth. Trembling with the need to make the image real, he stared at her. Aching.
“How are you able to see into my mind?” Her question interrupted the unwanted stimulation.
“It is always within my power, but—impure thoughts are more readily available to me than any other.”
Echoes and Embers (Rebel Angels) Page 2
