by Anne Marsh
“Well, Houston, you have a problem.” She smiled sweetly at the angel. “Because your ‘lieutenant’ is busy hunting down all the soul mates. Oh, and did I mention that he kills them when he finds them? Three thousand years, Michael, and there are only three soul mates found.”
In another lifetime, Zer would have challenged Cuthah to a duel. There was a code. This three-on-one was not how the Dominions had lived. This was hunting. His rogue side purred with pleasure at the violence. His world narrowed to the slick slide of the blade, the familiar sensation of muscles warming up as he flowed from one familiar position to the next. He’d been born for this. Bred for this.
He couldn’t look at the body of his soul mate. This was all shades of screwed up. He’d killed her, even though death wouldn’t be permanent, he prayed. The mate in him demanded that he drag her body to safety. She didn’t belong here. She shouldn’t have seen everything he was capable of. The warrior, however, knew he’d made the smart choice, the only choice under the circumstances. She’d bought him time—and cost Cuthah his bargaining chip.
Didn’t mean he had to like the truth, though, so he hit Cuthah hard, driving into the other male with a low, vicious blow. His fist punched into the other’s midsection with satisfying force. Not honorable, but fuck that. He was going to finish this fight now.
Cuthah hit the wall, ribs splitting with an unmistakable crack. Inhaling painfully, he charged to his feet. And back at Zer.
Only way to kill an angel was to take off the head. Zer figured he could use Cuthah as a punching bag all he wanted, but the bastard wouldn’t—couldn’t—die. Stubborn as hell. Anger pounded through him.
“You killed Esrene.” The blood running down his own face gave Cuthah’s mocking smile a hellish cast. “Did you know the war her death would cause? Did you even care?
“Oh, I cared.” Cuthah circled, raising his blade. “I cared very much, Zer. Her death was no accident.”
Zer shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet. “So, why do it?” He wasn’t going to have another chance. He needed a confession.
“I needed you Dominions discredited.” Cuthah feinted, driving his blade toward Zer’s ribs at the last possible second. “I needed you gone from the Heavens.”
Drawing back, Zer cursed. “Why? Why go to such lengths? Why the elaborate setup?”
Cuthah surged forward. “Because you stood between me and the Celestial throne. I want it all, Zer. Control of the Dominions. Heavenly power. And I can have it. The last obstacle was you Dominions. Once Michael was convinced that you were wanton killers and corrupt”—his blade came down on Zer’s—“then it was simple, Zer. Michael reacted. He exiled the lot of you, and my path was clear. I’ve led the remaining Dominions for the last three thousand years. And Michael feels so guilty, he’s withdrawn from the front lines completely.”
“Why not just kill us outright?”
Cuthah lunged forward, a wolfish smile on his face. “Because this was far more satisfying. “
“News flash.” Zer met Cuthah’s blade with his own. “This is far more satisfying.” His blade cut through Cuthah’s throat like the animal he was, sending the other angel’s head flying.
“You hear that?” Nessa needed to hear Michael admit the truth. Admit that he’d been wrong.
“I did.”
“You were wrong.” She pressed the point home. “You condemned those guys. You punished them for something they didn’t do. Didn’t dream of doing. That’s your psycho killer there.”
My God. Those wings beat up and down, the sharp strokes cutting heavily through the air. She held her breath.
“Maybe,” he said at last. “I know that I did not find all of the culprits. Still, your Fallen chose to fight me. They chose to ignore my authority.” He shrugged slowly. “There had to be a price to pay for that rebellion.”
“They rebelled because Dominion females were dying,” she pressed. “They were right.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” he said finally. “Now, it is too late to undo what was done. They must find their soul mates, and then they can return.”
“That’s not fair,” she protested.
Michael smiled cynically. “Life is never fair, human. Surely, you know this. This is not a matter of my not wanting to fix matters. This is a matter of can’t. I can’t change this. Not now. I would like to.” Something dark flashed in his eyes. “Perhaps now that Cuthah has been removed from the equation, my Fallen will finally find their soul mates.”
“Many of the soul mates are already dead.”
“And Cuthah clearly did not work alone.” He shrugged. “Life is not fair now, but there is nothing I can do to bring back the dead. I can, however, search for Cuthah’s conspirators. If there are others still in the Heavens who have abetted him in his madness, I will look for them.” The look on his face promised her he’d take this hunt very seriously.
But that wouldn’t help the Fallen Dominions find the remaining soul mates. Which ones of Zer’s brothers would go without? Could she contemplate telling Nael or Vkhin that there would be no redemption for them because of Cuthah’s actions? “Send me back,” she demanded.
“You want to go to him?” Those dark eyes looked at her, through her.
“Yeah,” she admitted. “I love him. He’s mine.” She shrugged. “Somehow, we’re connected.”
“You’re connected,” he repeated. “Yes. So, you can go back. For you, it’s simple now.”
Frustration made her snap. He couldn’t expect her to pull a Wizard of Oz stunt without a few directions. “Tell me how. Damn it, Michael, I don’t know how the bond works. What do I do? Tap my heels three times and chant ‘There’s no place like home’?”
“No,” he said patiently. “Hold Zer’s image in your head. Feel him. Open up and follow the thread of your connection back to him.”
Right. Hang a left at the corner and then take the next right. As directions went, Michael’s stank. Still, he wasn’t volunteering anything else, so she folded her arms over her chest and gave it a shot. Michael’s dark gaze examining her didn’t make it any easier, and, after a moment, she gave up.
“Try harder.” Michael nodded at her. “Or stay here forever. Your choice. Close your eyes and concentrate, human.”
There was motivation. Trying again, she thought of the little things that made Zer who he was. The way he prowled across a room. The half smile that teased one corner of his mouth. The thread grew, memories splicing together into a rope that took on strength and reality. When Zer’s feelings flooded the growing bond, feeding it from the other end, her confidence built. Heat. Warmth. Concern. Affection. Love. Get your ass back here, baby. The growled command filled her mind. Her heart.
The bond tugged, pulling her back like a cosmic rubber band. Back where she wanted—had—to be. She went, and Michael’s sad, knowing eyes watched her go.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Three days hadn’t been enough time to work miracles in the interior-decorating department. Her lab still looked like the war zone it had been. Although the broken glass and unidentifiable bits of building had been swept up and disposed of, a blue tarp still flapped over the busted-out windows like a white flag. Given the state of grant funding these days, those windows weren’t getting fixed anytime soon. Maybe she’d start a new design trend. Eco-friendly air-conditioning, right?
Boy. She was reaching.
Anything to avoid confronting the emotional elephant in the room. The threat Cuthah posed was what had brought Zer into her life. Now that Cuthah was gone, did Zer still need her?
In all the confusion of the aftermath of battle and her resurrection, she’d insisted on returning to her own office. She needed to reestablish her independence if she could. And she still wanted to destroy her research so it wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands.
She jerked open a drawer particularly forcefully, cursing when a sharp metal edge made unerring contact with her shin. To her surprise, Zer hadn’t objected. Maybe he was done
with her. She had to face facts.
“Stupid markings,” she muttered, shoving her sleeves back down over her wrists. Wouldn’t you just know that she’d bond with the one Fallen who was content to let her go her own way? So much for happily-ever-after. Her calendar was free for today.
Reaching into the drawer, she grabbed a thick stack of file folders. Feeding them through the industrial-strength shredder parked on her desktop was satisfying, the metal teeth methodically chewing through the pages and pages of black-and-white data. It was surprisingly easy to erase her research. Unfortunately, it was harder to scrub Zer out of her heart.
Would he come back—would he even want to?
Thirty minutes of shredding, and her desk was as empty as her life. She double-checked the desk and shoveled the mountain of paper confetti into a trash bag. Bonfire time.
She hated the way she was hanging on to the paper, as if it was her last connection to him. How pathetic was that?
Except there was still that matter of her heart.
Damn.
Dropping her head onto the desk, she wondered if there was some other way to go about this. Because, honestly? She felt like she was missing half her soul, and she hated that. She wanted him, and, even though he’d sworn he was coming back, now she had to get on with the trust part of things, and, well, she’d never been good at trust. She narrowed her eyes. She was trying, damn it. Overnight improvement just wasn’t possible.
It might, she figured, take a decade. Or two.
She shoved her hands through her hair, the long strands tangling around her fingers. It was damn hard to trust.
But she loved him.
That meant she had to trust him. To come back. To love her back.
“Good luck with that,” she whispered. To her surprise, she meant it.
A noise at the window had her looking up. At Zer, stepping out of the sky through an open window.
“Dramatic entrance,” she observed, her heart pounding. God. She was terrified she was going to say the wrong thing. Terrified she would scare him off. Trust, she reminded herself. She’d decided to trust him.
He shrugged, swinging his booted feet over her poor windowsill. “It worked the first time.”
True. He’d broken down the lecture hall door, charged up the aisle, and saved her from a deadly predator.
“Not that you were grateful,” he growled. “I distinctly recall a whole lot of protesting.” He sat on the edge of her windowsill as if it was a goddamned throne. The worn leathers and black cotton T-shirt were familiar territory. She could deal with those.
But his wings. God, those wings. She wanted to tunnel her fingers through their thick, downy warmth. The unbelievable softness of the fifteen-foot span was a memory she couldn’t shake. That inky blackness was as unyielding as the male himself. The Archangel had stamped him with a warning label, all right. He wasn’t the Heavens’ golden child. Not anymore.
“May I come in?” Was that a note of hesitation in his voice? And when had they been on an engraved-invitation basis?
Silently, she gestured toward the room.
He slid off the sill, his booted feet hitting the floor. Prowling the room, he examined the wreckage. “Bit of a mess.”
That was the understatement of the year. She’d done the broom-and-dustpan bit—for three days, while she stewed over where her Fallen angel had gone.
“This is not my fault.” Her eyes narrowed. “In fact, this is your fault. You’re the one who decided to wage a full-on battle with Cuthah the Crazy. In. My. Laboratory.”
Sure, part of her mourned the lost lab. The independence it had meant. Of course, who was she really kidding? The independence had been an illusion, her leash only as long as the dean had permitted. And answering to him had sucked big-time.
Fuck it. She upended the plastic bag of shredded paper into the trash can and grabbed a box of matches. With a snap of her wrist, the match was in the can, merrily burning its way through three years of research. Burning her bridges. Literally.
“Fire marshal’s going to be plenty pissed,” he observed.
“Right,” she snorted. “Least of my worries right now.”
“Why?”
Shoving her hair behind her ears, she gestured toward the numerous scorch marks on the walls. The floors. Hell, there wasn’t an unmarked inch left.
He tossed a cracked beaker into the trash can, “Why are you burning your papers?”
“It’s up here.” She tapped her forehead. “Keeping it on paper seems a little superfluous. Not to mention foolhardy” She’d seen what had happened when the rogues started keeping lists.
“So, you don’t want to publish another article?”
Slowly, she shook her head. “Now’s not the time, Zer. I do that, and all I’ve done is publish a hit list. I won’t put innocent women in harm’s way.”
“So, you’re giving it all up?” Turning away from the destruction, he started toward her, all dark intent.
“I’m not giving it all up,” she pointed out. “There will be other jobs. Other chances to crack the code. Plus”—she smiled wickedly—“I believe you still owe me a favor.”
She yelped and squirmed as he swept her up into his arms.
“Fly with me.” His deep voice touched her to the core.
Two running steps, and he’d cleared the broken window frame, launching them out into the air.
Zer took them straight up into the night sky. What had been a pretty black carpet sprinkled with stars was now a cold, damp, endless tunnel of space.
“Unfair!” she yelped, embarrassed by how thin her voice sounded. The campus dropped away beneath them. How did he do this on a regular basis? She was clearly an airplane kind of a gal. Give her walls and a seat, thank you very much.
“Trust me,” he growled into her ear, his arms tightening around her. “You think I’ll let you fall?”
“You stabbed me. How can I trust you after that?” She’d never forget his cold, emotionless face as that blade of his cut through her. Quick and merciless. Not an ounce of hesitation in him. “You killed me.”
His arms tightened around her. “Soul mates can’t die, not while their other half lives. There was no other way to get to Cuthah.” That fierce gaze watched her, waiting for her to decide where she wanted to take this. Understanding. He’d spent a lifetime fighting and hurting. He knew precisely how that blow had felt. “But knowing that doesn’t excuse me. I hurt you, and, Christ, baby, I didn’t want that. Not for you.”
Those wings of his didn’t hesitate, just kept beating out a steady rhythm as he took them through the night sky. One big hand dropped to her chest, tracing the spot where he’d stabbed her through the heart. She knew that if he could take away the pain and the hurt she’d suffered, he would. In a heartbeat. She’d spent hours staring at the pale white mark. The scar was fading fast. Within a month, she’d need other reminders of what had happened. Which didn’t explain the sensitivity of her skin or the bright pleasure uncurling inside her chest, beneath the soft touch of his fingers.
Some things had to be said. She wouldn’t lose that raw intimacy they’d found in her office. “But you did it, anyway.”
His fingers paused. Rested against the hard, sharp beat of her heart. “I did what I had to do. The only way to Cuthah was through you. I’m”—he hesitated. “God, I’m sorry. It should have been a choice. Your choice.”
She’d understood that on a purely intellectual level, but she’d needed the words. Words he’d given her.
“Now,” he continued, “you’re going to let me spend a lifetime making it up to you.”
“I am?” She wasn’t feeling charitable. She was feeling something else. Heated pleasure. An erotic curiosity she shouldn’t admit to. “Dying, Zer? That cancels out the whole riding-to-the-rescue thing. I don’t owe you. You owe me.”
“Deal,” he growled, lowering his head to hers for a quick, hard kiss.
A short, sharp slap of wind hit them, and Zer rode that airy w
ave, taking them down toward the city spread out beneath them. The steep descent sucked the breath from her lungs, left her fingers curling into his shoulders.
“Believe me,” he growled into her ear, his arms tightening around her. “I’m all done Falling.”
Curling up against the welcome heat of his body, she settled for listening to the smooth beat of his wings carving a path for them through all that air. He didn’t look as if all this flying put him out any—or that it was an uncommon occurrence. Maybe he’d taken girlfriends flying before.
He shook his head. “You want me to drop you just to prove a point?”
Or maybe not.
“Watch the stars, baby.” He twisted in midair, and they shot impossibly higher into the dark sky. Stars she hadn’t seen in too long because she’d been too busy to look up. Where had he been these last three days?
“I like that skirt of yours.” The sexy growl shot straight down her spine. And lower. God, he said the most impossible things. “You know what that skirt of yours does to me, baby?”
Yeah. This close to six feet plus of Fallen, she might have more than a clue. He was thickening, lengthening, where she was pressed against him. So, maybe she’d known he’d like this particular skirt. The thick, practical wool wrapped itself around her curves, doing double duty. Warm and sexy.
“Are you bare underneath, baby?” His hand smoothed the material, leaving a liquid trail of fire. “You’d better hang on.”
She should have been prepared for the arousal blasting through her. Zer was raw. Sensual. He’d never held back, so why would he have changed, even if he was sporting a pair of wings now? Angel or devil, she wanted him. So, she let him coax her legs around his waist, drinking in the feel of that rock-hard body moving against hers.
The movement forced the fabric of her skirt to bunch up and exposed her lace thong. Pink and pretty, she’d chosen the most minuscule scrap of silk in her arsenal. Just in case. Okay, so the thong had been a grossly impractical gesture on her part. She’d spent the day aware of every step she took, of the fabric rubbing against her sensitive skin, touching every place he’d touched.
