Because she’d gotten a taste of hope and happiness, the demons had sought to squash the beautiful emotions before they could bloom into spiritual weapons. “The world is populated by beings with free will, and free will allows for absolute good...and absolute evil.”
She nodded as he spoke. “Evil. Yes. There was a demon in the room. The other warrior said so.”
“Yes. Demons seek the destruction of mankind.”
“Why?”
“Because they despise the Most High, and He loves you. They cannot strike at Him any other way, so they destroy what He wants kept safe.”
“Why?” she asked again, then blushed. “Sorry. I sound like a four-year-old child. Who is the Most High? Why does He want me—us—kept safe?”
Rather than answer her just yet, he said, “Have you figured out what I am?”
She peeked at him through the thick shield of her lashes. “Well, I know your friend is an angel.”
“But not me?”
“You don’t have wings.”
She had meant no insult. He knew that. She had merely stated a fact. He knew that, too. And yet still a razor seemed to scrape against his chest. “I’m going to remove the top portion of my robe. Not to harm you, or tempt you—” if such a thing were even possible “—but to prove what I am. All right?”
“A-all right.”
He stood and, suddenly trembling, tugged the robe from his shoulders, then turned to reveal the scars and tattoos on his back.
She gasped with...disgust?
“Oh, Koldo. You’re so beautiful.”
No, not disgust. Wonder.
How could that be? Wings were prized, not pale imitations. Yet still he’d spent six days having the back of his body inked, all but his spine colored by images of feathers and down.
By the time he’d had it done, his regenerative powers had been activated, and ambrosia had had to be added to the ink to ensure the colors remained vibrant. Ambrosia, what his mother used to add to her wine. Ambrosia, the flowers he’d picked for her.
Ambrosia, a drug for immortals.
Cornelia had hated her life with her unwanted son so much she’d drugged herself to endure it.
“You were injured,” Nicola said, seeing the scars beneath the tattoos. “How?”
“Torture.”
“Oh, Koldo. I’m so sorry.”
He wasn’t sure how to reply. He only knew he longed for her to stand, to reach out, to ghost her fingertips over the raised tissue.
But she didn’t. And that was probably for the best.
Probably? No. Definitely. He was unsure of his reaction.
She said, “You’re an angel, too, then?”
He shrugged back into his robe and slowly turned to face her. She’d set the teacup on the table beside her, the steam rising, curling around her, creating a dreamlike haze.
Must be near her.
Any other time, he might have fought the urge. But after what she’d just been through, he allowed himself to return to the couch and crouch between her legs. “I’m like the angels in many ways, yes, but I’m not an angel. I’m a Sent One.”
“A Sent One,” she parroted. “What does that mean?”
“I’ll explain as best I can, but I must start from the beginning.”
She nodded, eager. “Please do.”
Here goes. He hoped she was ready. “Long ago, the most beautiful of all the cherubim was Lucifer, and he was given charge over one-third of the Most High’s angels. One day, he entertained a glimmer of pride...then another...and another and another, until he was nursing his self-importance as a babe at a mother’s breast.”
“I know that word. Cherubim,” she said, her brow furrowed. “Cherub is the singular version, right? An actual kind of angel. And the Most High is your leader, I’m guessing.”
“Right on both counts.”
“But I thought cherubs were small, like toddlers. And okay, I’m just going to say it—don’t they wear diapers?”
“Lucifer is taller than I am, but I do like the image of him in a diaper.”
Her jaw dropped, but she managed to breathe out, “Wow. Anyone taller than you must be... I mean...uh, I like your height. It’s just right.”
A wonderful recovery, he thought as he continued his story. “Ultimately, Lucifer became so convinced of his own power that he decided to exalt his throne above the Most High’s. He gathered the angels under his charge, convincing them they would have a better life under his reign. Together, they attacked. The Most High defeated and denounced the treacherous angels, tossing them out of the heavens.”
She reached out, as if she meant to toy with the beads in his beard. Just before contact, she froze. Her hand dropped to her lap. “Were you part of the battle, helping the Most High?”
He hated that she’d changed her mind about touching him—and hated that he hated. “No. I wasn’t yet born.”
“Wait. Angels are born?”
“No. They were created.”
“But... Oh, I remember,” she said with the half grin he so admired. “You aren’t an angel.”
She was beginning to understand.
“So, what happened after the bad guys got spanked?”
“Back then, the earth was different than the place you know it to be, and home to another race of beings. And no, they weren’t human. Lucifer was so angry with the Most High, he infected these beings with his evil. They became so vile, the earth was destroyed—but the beings survived in the core, in hell, because nothing of the spirit can die. Not in the sense you know the word, at least.”
Her eyes widened as he spoke.
“Time passed. The Most High re-created and repopulated the world, this time with humans, and it was a veritable paradise. And to answer your earlier question, He loves your people and wants you kept safe because He created you. He created you because He longed for fellowship. You were to be His beloved children, to rule the earth as kings.”
He paused, waiting for her reaction.
She nodded to encourage him to continue.
“Lucifer decided there was no better time for a counterattack and, through trickery and deceit, stole the reins of control of the earth. The humans began to seek fellowship with him, cutting the Most High from their lives.” Hope had seemed lost.
Once again she reached out. This time, she was so distracted by his story that she failed to catch herself. Her fingertips glided over his jaw.
At the moment of contact, he sucked in a breath. It felt so right. So perfect. No wonder humans touched each other whenever they had the chance. A handshake. A pat on the shoulder. A hug. Each action offered comfort. He leaned into her, seeking something deeper, more intimate.
How many years had he yearned for something like this? Dreamed of it? Once, as a child, he’d even cried for it. And now, here it was. Offered freely.
Never stop, he thought.
“I’m so sorry,” she gasped out, and dropped her arm. “I didn’t mean to maul you.”
That gentle caress was considered mauling? What did she think he’d done to her? he wondered, a bit sick to his stomach.
“I liked it.” Koldo took her hand in his as tenderly as possible and brought it back to his face. Bit by bit, Nicola relaxed—and so did he. Soon, she was stroking his beard of her own accord, mesmerized by her actions. He had to swallow a purr of approval.
“What happened next?” she asked.
“Lucifer and his fallen angels introduced sickness, suffering, poverty and even physical death to the world. As for the beings living in the earth’s core, they were disembodied, desperately seeking a host. Some came to the surface, searching. They are the creatures you know as demons.”
A shudder of revulsion rocked her. “They all sound terrible.”
“They are.” More so than she realized. “For a while, the fallen angels lived among the humans, called themselves gods, stalked the land at their leisure and tormented whomever they desired. Some even mated with your females, and the offspring became known as the
Nephilim. They were horrible creatures filled with hate and driven by greed. They were giants, savages, brutal and...” How to explain? “Different cultures have given them different names.”
“In mythology,” she said, her eyes widening.
“Exactly. Greek, Titan. Egyptian. Norse. Any, all. The fallen angels were punished for contaminating the human race, and chained beneath hell, where they couldn’t be freed by their comrades. The Nephilim were wiped out—at least for a little while.”
Her arms wrapped around her middle, severing contact, and her tremors intensified again. Not to the same degree as at the grocery store, but enough to hurry him along.
As he tucked the blanket more firmly around her shoulders, he said, “There are also demons in hell, there to torment the spirits cast there. They refer to themselves as high lords and minions, but they have many different names, many different ranks. Some prefer to stay here.”
“Seeking a host, you said.”
He nodded. “And someone to torment, to feed from.”
“Is that what they want with me?”
“Yes. They want to pump you full of their poison, weakening your defenses against them, allowing them to slip past your skin and into your body. Once there, they fight to control your thoughts, your actions, all the while feeding off your negative emotions, infecting you with sickness.”
“Sickness,” she echoed.
“Yes, but there is a cure. To obtain it, the Most High fought and defeated Lucifer all over again.” That’s when the first of Koldo’s kind was created, tasked with escorting humans out of Lucifer’s darkness and into the Most High’s light.
Over the centuries, Sent Ones like Koldo had lost sight of their goal. But not anymore, he decided. He would help Nicola.
“What’s the cure? And why am I still sick?” Nicola asked.
“Every cure comes with instructions. You have yet to follow the right ones.”
A long while passed as she absorbed his words. Finally she said, “Well, tell me the instructions. I’m ready to follow them. Honest.”
Koldo was pleased by Nicola’s words. He might not wield the ring of truth as other Sent Ones, but even still, she heard the certainty of his claims. She believed. She accepted.
She wanted to act, and action was power.
“I gave you some of the instructions already,” he said. “The demons breathed their poison into your ear, sparking fear. You embraced that fear, and it strengthened the poison, and all too soon your emotions were feeding the demons. Calm, peace and joy cause the poison to weaken.”
“Hence the reason you want me to feel them.” She nodded as she spoke. “So...the poison is like a parasite. Or a virus. Like influenza or E. coli. It can grow, but it can also die.”
“Yes. If the demons cannot feed, they’ll flee. That’s why guarding your thoughts and words is so important.” Koldo lifted slightly and twisted, making room for his big body on the couch.
Nicola snuggled against him, surprising him—thrilling him. Her cheek rested against the quickening beat of his heart. He breathed her in, all that cinnamon and vanilla and honey.
And oh, heavens above, he was hot and cold at the same time. He trembled. He...wanted more. He wasn’t what she needed; he’d already realized that. His past being what it was, he had no right to console a female. He’d hurt too many. He deserved a whipping, a beating, not a caress. But he just couldn’t bring himself to move away.
“You’re so warm,” she said.
You’re so soft.
She reached up, her fingers again toying with the ends of his beard. “So even my thoughts matter?”
“Of course. Your thoughts can create a fiery storm or a peaceful sea.”
“But I can’t control—”
“You can. If the wrong thought comes, force yourself to think of something else.” That’s good advice—why don’t you follow it, too?
She sighed. “What about the water you gave Laila?”
“It healed her body and cast the demon out of her, but what will happen if she’s attacked by other demons? Will she once again cave to the toxin and fear?”
“She had a demon inside her?”
“Yes.” Perhaps he should have broken that particular piece of news more gently.
Several moments passed in silence. “I had no idea. Was so ignorant.” A tremor raked her body, and warm tears soaked the fabric of his robe.
Tears? He had to see her face. Koldo palmed her waist, lifted her and parted her legs with his knee. She gasped as he settled her on his lap, and only then did he realize the sheer intimacy of the position.
He bit back a groan. Of pleasure. Of pain.
Of need. And regret.
“Frightened of me?” he rasped. Of this. He would rather die than cause the same reaction as her boss.
“No.” Her eyes were watery, glassed over, but the tears had stopped. “I’ve just... I’ve never been in this position before.”
Never?
A sense of possessiveness filled him, hotter than fire, more lethal than a flood. “Do you have any other questions for me?”
“I do.” She hooked her fingers over the collar of his robe and rubbed, as if she experienced the same compulsion to touch. Her skin brushed against his, cool where he was overheated, soft where he was calloused.
Must wrap my arms around her and urge her closer...closer still...then mesh my lips against hers...kiss her...savor her. Devour her.
He didn’t. One thought stopped him. He couldn’t put his filthy, ugly lips on so innocent a female.
But...what if he did it anyway? What if he gave in? What if she liked it?
Temptation had arrived, he realized, whispering so prettily.
He resisted. Her fragile heart would give out from too much stimulation in one day. And maybe, just maybe, so would his.
“I’ll answer one,” he croaked. “Just one. I don’t want to overload you.”
She thought for a moment, nodded. “Do the demons look like little monkeys?”
Two circuits seemed to connect in his mind, and he frowned. There was only one way she could have known what one of the lowest-ranking demons looked like. “You saw the one in the office?”
“Him and many others. Two have even been hanging around Laila,” she admitted shakily.
Yes, he’d seen those two. One had been inside her. The other was his “friend.” They ran away every time Koldo neared. “They’ll continue to return to her as long as she feeds them.”
Tension radiated from her. “And if we’re attacked by others?”
Koldo would sense it. But...what if he didn’t...or what if he couldn’t get to her? “Call upon the Most High. He’ll send whoever’s closest to help you.” Germanus would never be as powerful as the Most High, and wouldn’t hear a human’s cries. More than that, he was limited in the number of troops he could send.
“How do you know that for sure?”
“He promised to rescue every human who calls upon Him, and He always keeps His promises.”
“Every human. Even me?”
His brows furrowed into his hairline—or what had once been his hairline. “Are you human?”
“Har, har. You know that I am. Wait. I am, right?”
Do not smile. “You are. And now, I’m ending this conversation.” For both their sakes. “There are chores to be done, and hopefully I’m man enough to do them.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
NICOLA WATCHED as Koldo stalked through her entire house, fixing everything that was broken, reinforcing the locks on the windows and doors, and even flashing in and out to stock her cabinets and refrigerator with food. All the while, she reeled.
The monsters she’d seen as a child were real.
Demons had poisoned her and her sister.
The guy she couldn’t stop thinking about wasn’t even human.
She focused on him—the least complicated. Was he naturally bald or had he shaved his head? There was no hint of stubble on his scalp, which led her to
believe there were no follicles. But that hardly mattered. As beautiful as he was, he had no need of hair.
And now that she knew what his back looked like under his robe, she found him more than beautiful; she found him breathtaking. Running parallel to both sides of his spine was scar tissue about twelve inches long and four inches thick. At one point in his life, he’d had wings. Something or someone—a demon?—had cut them out. Now, crimson ink branched from both scars, forming glorious wings. The design was so amazingly detailed, each individual feather accounted for. And the muscles underneath those tattoos...sweet mercy.
How could a man who looked as fierce as he did be so kind? Or were the man and the Sent One intertwined? Could there not be one without the other?
And what about the smoldering fire in his eyes? Did it spring from a place of danger? Or desire?
He finished stocking her cabinets and leaned against the half wall between her kitchen and living room. He folded his arms over his chest and nodded. “So you do know how to relax.”
Har-har. “If you want to pamper me, I’m going to let you pamper me.”
“Actually, I want to question you. Why do you work so hard?”
What he was really asking: Why do you work so hard, yet live in such squalor? “Medical bills” was all she said.
He opened his mouth, closed it, then pushed out a heavy breath. “I want to pay your bills,” he said hesitantly, probably expecting her to fly off the couch and attack him for daring to suggest such a thing.
As if such a kind proposition would offend her. “I wasn’t hinting or anything like that,” she said with a smile. “And wait a second. You have money?”
“A lot of money. Sent Ones are rewarded for our work. And I would like nothing more than to do this.”
“But—”
“I’d planned to pay your bills one way or another. This way, I can take the past-due notices stacked in the basket you’ve labeled Doom with your knowledge rather than stealing them and perhaps earning myself a punishment.”
To have such a huge financial weight lifted from her shoulders...to no longer live in fear of losing her house, having her utilities turned off, to be able to afford real Hostess Twinkies rather than a dry knockoff...
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