Summon Lyght (Archangels Creed)

by Daniels, Kenra

  But now he wanted to touch her. Keeping himself from her would be the real battle.

  Understatement of the Universe.

  ****

  Robert shoved dark shades close to his forehead. "So, we're just going to go right into the devil's lair and announce we're the new fire in the den?"

  Good God. Francis had just spent the last two hours learning how to act, and Robert's vocabulary did not fit the culture. "I see you didn't really study." Francis rubbed the bridge of his nose. "How about you not talk this time around?"

  Peggy slid her hands over Francis' arms. "I love, love, love what you did with the biceps, baby."

  Francis smiled. "You studied."

  She winked at him. "No shit."

  Francis looked over her clothes. Pure white was the decided color for their so-called gang. And matching. They all wore a white leather trench coat, leather pants, and boots. Except Peggy's boots reached her thighs and were shiny. They'd decided on not flashy. White was bright enough, but nothing shiny. He also noted flesh showing beneath the trench-coat. If Toren had reacted badly over her last outfit, he didn't want to see his reaction over this.

  "You let Toren know we're headed out?"

  Peggy flustered a little. "I told him yesterday when we were leaving."

  Francis shook his head a little.

  "What!"

  "You know damn well what. It's your ass if he catches you dressed that way."

  "Oh, he doesn't care." She waved a hand.

  "You're a pathetic liar, sis."

  She smiled at him. "I like when you call me that."

  He grinned and rolled his eyes. But he liked it too. It felt good to be doing things together. Felt like a family. All those thousands of years together, but not. Occupied with helping their individual Warriors, but not actively helping each other regularly or spending time together. This felt like the way it was supposed to be.

  She flicked her white fingernails up and down at his body. "You look devastating in that, by the way. A spitting image of your father. Are you ready to kick ass?"

  Maxwell sauntered over. "We done shooting the shit? The night's howling for blood."

  Francis grinned at hearing his brother talk that way. It was all rather fun, actually. "You studied too."

  Maxwell held his fist up and Francis instinctively tapped his knuckles on it before they both leaned in for a ritual-style brotherhood hug. More a banging of shoulders.

  Robert snorted a little. "I studied. And I'll say my lines when it's time to say my lines."

  Francis tried to hide his cringe at how unauthentic he sounded. It'd be truly amazing if Robert could manage the diamond prince out of himself.

  Francis looked at all of them. "So, we're called Lords Krue. We go into their little welcome home party and claim the neighborhood. That starts a fight, we agree to duel and wager for the boy, kick their asses without touching them, and claim our prize."

  Robert perked up. "Without touching?"

  "No touching," Francis said. "I don't want to alert them to what we are."

  "What we are?" Peggy cocked her hip, appearing and sounding annoyed.

  "Not human." Francis didn't get why she had such an issue with that part but she clearly did, judging by her more exaggerated than usual eye roll.

  "What about the girl?" Peggy stared at Francis, like she was testing him.

  "I'll handle the girl. Nobody touches her."

  A slow sideways smile curved her perfect red lips. "Aren't we touchy about her?"

  Little miss perceptive. Or he was damn lousy at hiding his feelings when it came to Abigail. "I can't afford to fuck that part up. She's not going to be easy as it is, and I won't be claiming her on the first go-round."

  "Sure thing little brother." But her sing-song voice held that knowing tone. He didn't care about her knowing, really. Just so the others didn't.

  ****

  Dare stood in the shadows of the warehouse, waiting. She'd never admit it, but she was too fucking close to praying. Nothing specific, just anything to happen to intervene. Prolong. Tonight was a bad night for her. She wasn't herself. Something was going on. Something weird. She needed time to figure it out and beating up a thirteen year old wouldn't help with that for fucksake.

  Really. How fucking smart was beating a kid? What did that actually do for them again? Toughen them up? For what? Didn't life do that shit on its own without your own family doing it to you? What was the great logic behind that again? Dare would love to get her hands around the neck of the great thinker who'd thought that stupidity up.

  She paced. Get ready because you're doing this. You're going to beat that little bastard within an inch of his fucking life and he'll learn. He'll fucking learn…something. He'd have to figure out what he learned. That shit wasn't up to her, fuck this. She was nobody's mother, sister, girl, or friend. She was Dare. She was Dare and death was her fucking second skin. Pain was her game. Despair was her favorite drink. So drink up, drink deep, drink long.

  The kid vomited. Her cue. He'd been filled with holy fire, and now she would beat the living shit out of him.

  She yanked her black leather gloves tight, forcing her fingers deep. She didn't beat people without them. Other people's blood on her...no, she didn't do that. And yet… She ripped them off and threw them behind her, and stormed toward the kid, the future Great Warrior of Darkness and Doom. Big fucking whooping crock of shit. For her dead fucking friend, she'd beat the kid without gloves. Out of respect.

  Didn't get any more sick and deranged than that.

  With every step she took, the face of the boy loomed haunting and clear like an innocent child. Ruined. He was all but ruined. And she was going to seal his fate tonight. After this there would be no going back, no salvation, no American dream for him. She was going to slam that last nail home nice and hard.

  "Who the fuck?" A male voice up near the warehouse entrance rang out. Dare turned and froze just a few feet from the boy as four people in white walked in.

  Who the fuck indeed? One of them held up a hand to the two with guns and they nodded and lowered their weapons. Okay. She suddenly wished she'd kept her gloves on. Those pristine white clothes they wore were going to get really dirty if they didn't have an extremely good connection with the gang. She sure as hell didn't know them. And she knew everybody that needed knowing.

  They strolled forward and Dare waited. She held up a hand to the twelve of her warriors present. At her signal, they slowly surrounded the newcomers. These pretty people must have something interesting for them to venture so far into her lair. She studied the lone female with the white blonde hair pulled back tight. Such a perfect face. Pity.

  One male with dark glasses flanked the girl on the left and another with brilliant blue eyes stayed to her right. Dare looked at the leader finally. Her heart froze as nearly blood red eyes locked on hers. Ha. Contacts? Did the bastard really think such a cheap intimidation trick would work on her? Did she know him?

  She frowned deeply to hide her distraction. "You must be lost, baby cakes."

  He just continued to walk toward her. Again she had to raise a hand to her men to close in. How close did this dude plan on getting? Close enough for her to have to look up at him, apparently.

  "I'm Francis." His voice was silky deep. Soothing. "We're here to clean up the neighborhood."

  Dare found herself trapped in his pensive gaze. Clean up the neighborhood didn't fit with his sincere smile.

  "What?"

  What the fuck did that mean is what she'd meant to ask. But his presence resurrected her earlier confusion. Or was it his voice? Maybe those eyes that seemed too damn real up close.

  "We're here to take over the neighborhood. Take your streets back. Clean them up."

  Was he serious? It was almost laughable only there was too much sincerity in his eyes to be a joke. And too much mass in his build to consider him a non-threat. And far too much crazy in his aura to count him sane.

  Instinct finally kicked in and
she slipped into killer mode. "Sweetheart. You're really pretty, but I'm afraid that's not happening. And you've come at a really bad time when I have other business to attend. Which means you won't be leaving without getting your clothes dirty." God damn he was beautiful. Unnaturally so. Perfectly white skin normally didn't turn her on, but with those full nearly red lips in that sexy curve and those strange red eyes, she couldn't help but wish she had met him under different circumstances. And now she'd have to kick his ass. Fan-fucking-tastic.

  He smiled at her and it made him drop dead gorgeous. Shit. She held his gaze more to keep steady than to intimidate. "I'm willing to negotiate." He held a hand out toward Dare's warriors. "If they can manage to dirty our clothes, we'll leave and never return. If they don't…" He lowered his gaze to her mouth before returning it to her eyes. "We get the boy."

  The heat his gaze pressed to her lips made her heart thunder but his words threw her most. The boy? This time she laughed. "You are one strange man."

  He smiled like she'd given him a fucking sincere compliment. That smile was nearly erotic. At least that's how her body interpreted it. Jesus, she needed to break down and get laid. She was pathetic. And he was dripping with tons of fuck-me-breathless.

  Two could definitely play at that game, and she was certain she'd enjoy him as an opponent. Anytime. "I have a few conditions of my own." She gave him her own version of that same smile, hot enough to melt the buttons off his jeans.

  "Name them, beautiful."

  His words made her tingle in all the wrong, or right places. "If I can manage to get your pretty clothes dirty…" she lowered her gaze over his sculpted body then raised it back up, "…I get to fuck you."

  His seventeen year-old shocked virgin reaction was one for the books. Ha! Imagine, a man that looked like him acting like a virgin. She wasn't sure if she should be worried or pleased. Again her body decided for her. Thrilled was the verdict. Because she would surely ride his fine ass before the night was done.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Father of the Nine Universes, help him! "It would be my pleasure." That was the right thing to say. That's what any guy would say. And it made the impression he wanted.

  Her eyes widened slightly and her nostrils flared a little, but the biggest reaction was visible only to him and his siblings. Her temperature and pulse shot up and a fine sheen of sweat broke across her chest and between her breasts.

  Saying those words to her seemed blasphemous. And yet not saying it to her seemed even more so. It was one of those supposed to be a lie things, only it was true. He would never do that with her. Oh God, yes he would. He had no clue what all was entailed but he knew he would. He'd learn in a heartbeat. And from what he'd observed of his father and Karly, it was one heavenly treat. He didn't need all the facts to know sex was a very good thing between a man and woman in love. The idea that he might experience that suddenly made him need to take a break, call a time out. Get a drink.

  "Let's get it on then." She licked her lips. "Because I could sure use to fuck you tonight."

  Turmoil struck Francis. Though she was using crass terms now for the intimidation he couldn't hide, she meant every amazing word. And that meant he wanted to give it to her. But how was he supposed to do that if he had to win?

  He'd have to think of something. "I'm waiting for you."

  She signaled her men to attack and surprised him with a beautiful straight kick to the chest. He barely sidestepped it and reached to wrap her in his arms, then let her duck away. She was fast. Already, she followed with a series of punches and kicks. She clearly planned to keep him occupied and away from her. It was smart. She would keep out of reach of the more powerful male and wear him down, taking advantage of her greater speed and endurance. Then she'd move in for the kill.

  Letting her play while he enjoyed the view, he watched his siblings out of the corner of his eye. They easily sidestepped attacks and maneuvered their opponents into injuring one another.

  He took note of the human energy levels. Only six minutes in and they were already down to seventy-fifty percent. One had started to decrease at an exponential rate, using ten times as much energy in one minute as he had in the previous minute. The others would tire just as quickly.

  Francis stepped up his game and made his beautiful Abigail work harder to stay away from him. His vow to not touch her quickly fell aside. Her lightning attacks brought her within easy reach and the temptation proved too much. Moving away from a kick, he allowed his fingers to graze along her calf. Her cheek at another moment. He even got bold, or hungry, enough to barely graze her ass. It all drove his ruby power higher. Soon, he had her in retreat, sweat trickling down her neck and upper chest as her plan backfired. The harder he pushed, the more he touched her, the angrier she became.

  When he easily avoided a kick aimed at his chin and spun to skim his fingertips across the small of her back, she bared her teeth and growled. "You call this fighting?"

  He couldn't stop the smile. "No, beautiful, I call this play." In a rush he pressed her into a corner. From there, he quickly pinned her, using his body weight to hold her tight to the wall. But damn, where was the anticipated anger and fury? Instead of fighting harder, she kept her body against his, turning to bring a hip against his groin that sent a blast of heat through him. Rather than stop there, she maneuvered his thigh between hers for a few seconds, long enough for him to marvel at the heavy beat of her pulse. Then he tasted it. She was…aroused. Oh God. The ruby in his body roiled like angry lava and more instinct brought his mouth closer to hers. Taste. Had to taste it.

  She looked up at him, seeming to want him to. Beg him to. What would she feel like on his lips in real life? In human form?

  She suddenly slammed her head into his and fear seized him as her eyes rolled up and blood dripped from the gash in her forehead. She slumped and lost her balance.

  "Shit." He slid an arm around her waist and gathered her close "I'm so sorry."

  She let out a faint whimper. "What—what are you?" Her voice sounded weak, barely coherent. "Hey…I… dirtied your clothes." She laid her head on his chest, exhausted. "Take me home."

  The fragile voice he'd heard the night before peaked through those final words and Francis picked her up in his arms. All the toughness she hid the real Abigail behind had fallen away. If he was ever to have a chance at winning her to his side, he couldn't wait. They'd have to take her with the boy.

  A blow landed on the back of his neck that would have dropped a human. He wheeled to face the threat, shifting Abigail over his shoulder to free one hand. The boy stood there with a baseball bat pulled back ready for another swing.

  "Put her down!" A pair of gang member rushed at Francis, one wielding a knife, the other grabbing a bottle from the ground. A third grabbed the boy and hustled him away, handing him off to someone else. In seconds he was out of sight.

  Francis glanced at Peggy and his brothers, all looking extremely bored as they continued to dodge clumsy, half-hearted attacks. Abort this mission. I'm taking her first while she's ready. Robert, put them to sleep. I'll meet all of you at the compound later.

  Robert raised his hand and an invisible wave of power buckled the humans' knees simultaneously, dropping them to the floor.

  "Goodnight." Max offered a little salute to go with Peggy's little smile.

  Francis ignored them and flashed Abigail back to her apartment, his heart pounding in a mixture of fear and anticipation.

  Holding her close, he stood at the side of her bed, studying her face. Her jaw was strong, almost masculine, and combined with the square chin and broad cheekbones, she wasn't what he'd learned society considered beautiful. The habit of keeping her luxuriant hair concealed in sleek braids made her seem even more masculine. Delicately textured ivory skin, deep red lips appeared at direct odds with her more male-looking features and her firmly muscled frame. And as far as Francis was concerned, she was the most exquisitely feminine beautiful woman who ever existed.

  He la
id her gently on her bed. Her breathing was deep and even, so she would probably stay asleep. He reached to pull the worn quilt over her but she grabbed the front of his coat and pulled him down onto her.

  He should have resisted. He should. But he couldn't let her know what he was. That meant being a little more weak, more human and in that second, he was one hundred percent male human with a one hundred percent human woman wrapping her legs around him.

  She smiled but it was pure deviousness, and Francis wouldn't answer to that power. But then she moved herself on him and his ruby boiled and seethed, making his muscles quake with the need to… conquer it.

  She seemed to sense it and to his surprise, liked it. So odd. "Give it to me." This came with more of that squirming against him and long moaning sighs.

  He could only shake his head.

  She lowered her lashes. "That's the deal. I dirtied your clothes."

  "No you didn't." His whisper betrayed the depth of his feeling on that matter.

  She smiled and tipped her head back and tightened her legs a little. "I do believe I did."

  Francis looked down and froze. Her blood was on his jacket. He looked into her eyes for many seconds, watching them fill with a longing that betrayed her faithful iron resolve. "Your blood…isn't dirty." Confusion filled her gaze and he longed to kiss her again, demonstrate how precious she was in his eyes. "Your blood is beautiful."

  Francis didn't understand why that upset her. "But that was the deal. You made it."

  Turmoil rocked him. There were many reasons he couldn't do what she asked and none he wanted to explain. Of all the human conditions, why didn't he think to study this one? Because for me, it was irrelevant, he reasoned. He knew just enough about fucking to know that it wasn't something you did lightly, and he had less than zero experience. The closest he'd come to the subject was when his father did it and he never hung around long enough to know what happened after things started heating up. At the first sign of heavy breathing or racing pulses, he bugged out.

  He finally bolstered his courage to say what he had to. "I can't… fuck you."