by Joey W. Hill
As an angel, he’d raced a shooting star across the sky, following it into Earth’s atmosphere. His intent was to slow its descent, give the meteor a safe landing, but those few moments before he’d had to do his duty, he’d reveled in the speed, twisting in the chaotic storm of its wake, riding the tail that appeared like a streak of fire from the ground. The couple of times he’d transported with Mina had reminded him of that, and this time was no exception. He trusted her, so there was no fear, just pleasure in the wild sense of movement, of disorientation. Then a sudden, somewhat jarring stillness, like a carnival ride braking to a halt.
It had been afternoon at the lagoon, but now it was night. He smelled marsh and salt in the air, evidence of a body of water nearby. He could hear the water lapping along a bulkhead. The scent and sound were familiar enough to make him realize why Jonah had felt some apprehension about allowing this, and why Mina had her own reservations, despite her obvious determination about it.
He’d occasionally visited here, always unseen. Well, except once, but that had been long ago. Only it wasn’t long ago. Not tonight. Mina had gotten rather adept at folding time, though she was still learning the rules about that. Learning them at the knee of the Lady Herself, one of the few places he was not allowed to accompany her, though she gave him awe-inspiring visions of what she saw and did in the Lady’s company. Enough to simultaneously amaze and assure him she was well-protected under that Great Mother’s wing.
Based on what the garden looked like, the relative newness of the winged statue he saw placed amid an array of Japanese maples and other delicate-looking plants, this was over twenty years ago. Mina had conjured herself clothing, a simple dress, so she was no longer naked. Now she moved to the statue. Her knees pressed against the bench next to it as she looked up into the sculpted face. “It’s a good likeness of you.”
“Mina, what are we doing here?” His voice sounded strange, thick, and she heard it, coming back to him to take his hand in a rare gesture of reassurance.
“You’re going to tell your sister you found the love and happiness she wanted you to have.” When she looked up at him, her own voice quivered a bit. “As hard as I continue to find that to believe, I know it’s the truth.” She couldn’t hold onto sentiment long, his witch, and sure enough, her expression shifted, becoming vaguely irritated. “Jonah said I should do this while she was sleeping, so she wouldn’t be sure if it was real or she dreamed it, but I saw no reason not to do it while she was fully awake. I don’t think the universe is going to explode because of one teeny-tiny space-time continuum infraction. He quoted some ridiculous story about a time travel tour group during Prehistoric times and a smashed butterfly that ruined the future, blah blah blah. Really, you’d think an angel who’s lived over a thousand years would be less dramatic about things. I don’t even think butterflies existed during Prehistoric times.”
“Mina.” He closed both hands on hers, stilling her. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea. If—”
Her gaze shifted, at the same moment he realized they were no longer alone. “Too late,” his witch murmured.
§
“David.”
The voice was a bare whisper behind him, but it captured his words in his throat. He couldn’t move. Mina’s blue and crimson eyes locked with his, her fingers sliding from his palms over his forearms. “Just because you have feathers doesn’t mean you’re a chicken,” she said, low. “And they’re flightless, besides. You’re not.”
He gave her a look between apprehension and exasperation, but she reached up, stepping on his feet to kiss his mouth. She held herself there a moment before she went back to her own soles and moved away. She was giving him the wing range to turn toward that voice, but she didn’t go far. She went to the bench, sinking down on it.
David slowly pivoted. His sister wasn’t alone, of course. Whatever had compelled her to come visit her garden in the dead of night had brought her husband with her. A good man, a protective one. He stood at her back instead of in front of her only because Tyler Winterman had seen David once before, a long time ago. It was how he’d known how to commission that statue, his one-year anniversary gift for Marguerite.
Well, correction—he’d seen David a long time ago, based on the time from which they’d come. Here, in this moment, it had been no more than a year or so ago.
Marguerite had lived in painful loneliness and emotional isolation for most her life, caught by the horror of her past, the losses she’d sustained, while David was dead and gone, helpless to do anything to make that better. Rationally, angels learned to understand why things unfolded the way they did, but the heart remained a child’s domain, only knowing that it wanted to give, to comfort, to make better.
Though he’d been an angel for nearly sixteen years at the time it happened, it wasn’t until he’d been able to see his sister accept the unconditional love she’d deserved for so long, feel Marguerite’s true happiness in the arms of a man who refused to let her run from him, that Heaven had meant something real to David, a gift he could finally give himself.
Mina was offering him the chance to give his sister the same kind of gift. If he didn’t blow it. Things like this were discouraged because they could go really badly. However, he and Marguerite were twins. Mina had known the connection was deeper, that his sister likely suffered the same pain over his unresolved fate, only Marguerite hadn’t been able to see into David’s world the way he had hers.
Taking a step forward, he studied Marguerite’s face. She was a beautiful woman, pale moonlit hair and blue eyes, a slender, elegant body. Tall. Not quite as tall as Tyler, but she was all statuesque strength. And at the moment, so unutterably fragile he didn’t blame Tyler a bit for having his hand on her hip, a reassuring touch.
There were no words, he realized. At least not at first. Hell, Mina had made it so the rules didn’t count, not in this moment, and so he was going to do what he’d wanted to do for so long. He didn’t want to scare her, but he wasn’t sure if he slowed his speed. All he knew was one moment he was staring at his twin sister, and the next moment he’d closed the distance between them and was holding her as tight as he dared without crushing her. Tyler had smoothly moved back in time, so maybe that meant he hadn’t moved at angel light speed after all. Or that the man had just anticipated him that well. David wrapped his arms around her narrow back, his wings enclosing her so tightly they brushed his own shoulders again. Her pale hair was almost the color of his white feathers, he saw, looking down at the mix.
The other half of his soul. That was what they sometimes said twins were, one soul split at birth. Holding her, both of their bodies shaking, feeling her tears wetting his shoulder and knowing they were rolling down his face as well, he understood why they said it. It was as if they were two halves of a heart, brought back together. He loved Mina with all he was, loved being an angel, was connected to the Lord and Lady, but this…Mina had been right. This was an important missing piece.
He might have held her for days, he didn’t know. All he knew was her grip didn’t slacken for a long time, and neither did his. When he finally lifted his head, he kept her that close, so that their faces were inches apart. He smiled at her then, even as more tears spilled for them.
“Hey, sis.”
She put her hands up to frame his face as she stared at him, tracing every bone with her gaze. “Tyler told me. Told me what he saw that day. It didn’t surprise me at all. Not a bit. You were always my angel, even before we had to part.”
Her voice was of course a woman’s voice, cultured and soft, but he heard the girl beneath it. “I don’t think we have a lot of time,” he said softly. “This may be the only time…until you know…you get old and gray and decide to come live on my side of the world. But I wanted to tell you. You’re going to be an aunt.”
Her eyes widened. He loosened his grip enough to step back, though he held onto her hands, and she clung to his. He nodded toward the bench. “This is my mate, Mina. She’s ca
rrying a little girl.” Looking back toward Marguerite, he met her eyes, brimming with emotion. “I’m happy. I love her very much. And everything that happened…I would do anything to change it for you, to have made it better, but what happened to me…it led to this. So I wouldn’t change that for me. Don’t suffer a moment of pain or worry about that, not ever again. All right?”
Marguerite gazed at him, then over her shoulder at Tyler. His amber eyes tracked every emotion on her face, and David could tell he was ready to be or do whatever she needed. She returned her attention to her brother.
“Only if you promise to accept the same is true for me. I couldn’t have been here, in this place, without all that. And he is worth absolutely everything I went through.”
The nature of moments like this was they became a gift to everyone involved. He saw the impact of the amazing statement register with Tyler and tighten the expression on his face, such that he mouthed her name, a voiceless caress.
David understood completely. He squeezed her hands, then brought each up to his mouth, pressing his lips there, hard. She freed one to stroke it through his hair and put her forehead to his. “I love you always,” she murmured. “My brother, my heart. Thank you.”
He stepped back after another long moment, reluctant, but knowing he really couldn’t prolong this. Jonah expected him to know the difference between bending and shattering the rules. It was okay. He knew what and who he was, though Mina had given him the chance to be something else for a precious blink of time. His witch came back to his side now, looked up at him, spoke in his mind.
We should call her Marie.
His sister’s birth name. He nodded, and spoke it aloud. “We plan to call her Marie.”
New tears spilled out of Marguerite’s eyes. Tyler put his arms around her, his own eyes suspiciously wet. In contrast, Mina gave them her stern look, pointedly directing it at Tyler. “This isn’t a dream,” she said. “Be sure she doesn’t think it is.”
“It is a dream,” Tyler replied, a quirk at his firm mouth. “A dream come true. The best kind. Thank you.”
Mina, apparently satisfied with the response, touched David on the arm. It was a gentle touch, very uncharacteristic of her, but he knew her heart. There were times when she was all tenderness. You really will be a wonderful mother, sweet witch.
In answer, she simply rolled her eyes, took his hand, and let that energy swirl start to build again. David kept his eyes locked on Marguerite’s as long as possible, until the folding of space and time swept the image away. But he knew he’d hold it in his heart forever. Just like he’d hold onto the realization that happiness was a limitless state of being. Particularly when he was loved by a witch who thought she didn’t know the first thing about love, but demonstrated daily that she understood it better than most.
§
They were back at the desert house. For a while, they walked along a familiar path under an early evening sky, Mina examining lizards and rocks, him holding her hand when she wasn’t bending to do that. He’d stayed quiet for some time, and she’d given him that, but he could tell by her sidelong looks she was hoping he’d say something to reassure her it had turned out the best way possible.
It had. Better. But he gave her an arched brow now, a speculative smile. “Jonah is a pretty big stickler on the rules, particularly the one about contact with humans. What did you promise him?”
“You’re suggesting the Prime Legion Commander, Mr. Perpetual-Stick-Up-His-Ass, bartered to gain an advantage from a rule infraction?”
“Before he had exposure to you, I would have said he’d never consider such a thing. But we all know you’re a bad influence.”
Mina gave him a shove, then tried to evade him. Catching her elbows, he cinched her about the waist, pulling her off her feet when she tried to wiggle free. He thought he caught the rare music of a breathless chuckle, then he left the ground, earning a yelp of protest. As well as the pleasure of that squirming body pressing close, her limbs clamping around him.
“I hate it when you do that.”
“Tell me what you promised him, or I’ll go higher.”
“You are a very mean angel. I don’t think I like you at all.” She tossed her hair out of her eyes, but settled her arms around his shoulders, giving him an exasperated look as he nudged her chin up and put his lips there, teasing her pulse, which tripped up in an intriguing way under the attention.
“He said it’s a wild card.”
“A wild card? So you promised him an open-ended favor for this?”
“I did. I had a moment of insanity, valuing you far more than you are worth.”
“No doubt.” He tangled his fingers in her hair, tightening his grip so the angle of her throat reflected the demand and restraint. Her thigh muscles flexed against his hips, registering her reaction to that, and his cock stirred against her. “I love you, Mina. I love you so much you’re never going to be rid of me. I’m going to make you happy every single day, whether you want me to or not.”
Her mouth softened at the words. If he said things like that too often, it made her suspicious, uncomfortable. But at the right moment, he knew it brought warmth to those dark parts of her that always feared abandonment, betrayal, the places the Dark One blood infested. He’d never let it get the upper hand. Never.
She hesitated. Then she raised her face to his, letting him see her eyes, the tentative emotion there that was so rare for her, but which she gave him now. “I want her,” she said, low. “I want to hold our child. I want to love her. I want to be her mother and you to be her father.”
“All right then,” he said.
A quiet exchange of words for something so momentous, something that rocked the foundation anew of everything she thought she could or couldn’t be. He knew what she needed to steady her in such a moment, and in truth, he kind of needed it as well. His hands cupped her backside, slid with sensual intent beneath, stroked her so a tremor went through her, her breath drawing in.
He found her beneath the dress. With the bare covering of his tunic it was a simple matter to push the cloth out of the way. This wasn’t about foreplay and teasing, but about need and connection. So, with a light stroke to verify her wetness, that she was ready and he wouldn’t hurt her, he slid his cock into that heated channel. Her breath left her in a sound that was mixed between a quiet sob and a gasp, and he held her even closer. I’m here, Mina. I’ll always be here. We can do this. Together.
He’d flown higher, so now they were spiraling above the desert where they could see the rock formations against the deep rose of the setting sun. The stars were getting brighter in the darkening sky above. She clung to his shoulders, buried her face in his neck as he slid deeper into her. He wanted to be as close as possible, in all ways, and so did she.
“I won’t share my Oreos, though,” she muttered, though he heard her breathlessness, knew a smile was playing in her heart, even if it wasn’t on her face. “Kids need to learn boundaries.”
“Yes, they do.” He pressed his lips against her ear. “Just like sea witches. If they don’t have rules, and discipline, they just get into all sorts of trouble.”
A deeper thrust this time, a little more demanding, and she gave him a satisfying noise of desire in response, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Rules are made to be broken,” she managed.
Loving her, every dark shadow and spark of light that made her who she was, David let the pleasure build in them both. He’d draw it out until she was begging for release. Not from his hold upon her, but to let the pleasure of their eternal connection explode in a shower of magical energy that could rival all the power in the universe.
Even that of one irascible sea witch.
Retribution
A vignette featuring Ben and Celeste from the Knights of the Board Room Series.
Originally posted 1/17/2012 in serial format
Background: This vignette is a prequel to Ben and Celeste’s individual books. Ben’s story is Book V, Hostile Tak
eover, and Celeste’s is Book VII, Soul Rest. In this vignette, Celeste, who gave the K&A executives the derisively-intended name, Knights of the Board Room, learns far more about who these five Doms really are, thanks to the skills of one of their number, Ben O’Callahan.
Part One
Celeste stirred her drink and flicked her lashes toward the opposite side of the club, up to the VIP section. Of course they’d be there. Like kings or gods, they could see the entire club floor from that level. Knights of the Board Room. She’d given them the name in derision, but the rest of the world acted as if she’d merely gilded the lily. Her editor thought the five-man executive team of Kensington & Associates walked on water. The case of Scotch that Matt Kensington sent him every year for Christmas probably contributed to his worshipful feeling. Fucking boys’ club.
Since the men were sitting at a round table, she’d say they were mocking her—if they knew she was here. The mask she was wearing protected her identity. She’d chosen a bracelet that indicated she wasn’t here to play—hell no to that—and to keep everyone at a distance. It didn’t make her conspicuous. Lots of people wore decorative masks and the same type of bracelet. Voyeurism and discretion appeared to be a popular modus operandi in a club where public displays of sadomasochism were happening pretty much everywhere around them.
On her first visit, she’d studiously tried not to be a voyeur, then reasoned she’d be more noticeable if she was trying not to look. Plus, she was a journalist. She wasn’t supposed to flinch from gathering data. But even on this, her third visit, it was difficult to look at the guy sitting two stools down from her. While he was talking to another man, a completely naked woman knelt on the floor next to him, wearing a dog collar and leash, for God’s sake. The physical details were appalling enough, but it was the woman’s body language and expression Celeste couldn’t stomach. Her fingers were touching his ankle, something he’d permitted, and occasionally the woman would press her mouth against his calf in pleading, yearning need. If she got too carried away with it, he would reprimand her with the light touch of a crop he carried, but sometimes he would reach down and feather his fingers through her hair, indulging the affection.
