Fallen Rebel

by C. G. Blaine

  He’s rough with me, not treating me like something fragile he can break. Or maybe he’s trying to break me, and I just don’t care. Teeth scrape over my skin, stubble scratches my jaw, his palm rubs in circles. As my breathing grows erratic, he grunts and thrusts his erection hard against my hip. He rocks faster, keeping pace with his fingers, pulling me apart from the inside. I feel the delicious ache building, which means Cass feels it too. His arm slides around me, holding me against him. Just when I’m tumbling over the edge, he bites down on my shoulder. I cry out as he marks me, and my legs give out as I surrender to every sensation coursing through me.

  His grip on me tightens, and his fingers leave me. He lifts me up the wall, hooking my legs around him so he can use me the way I used him. The friction of him grinding on me nears torturous, echoing through my body. I dig my nails into his scalp, and he unleashes a growl. His face buries in my neck as the fingers clenching the backs of my thighs burn hotter. He tenses with one last thrust and groans, sending another shudder through me.

  Still pressed into me, his chest heaves against mine until I take a deep breath. The second my pulse begins to slow, he steps back enough that I slide down the wall.

  “Any other itches you want me to scratch?” he asks, his voice harsh. “Or are you good for a while?”

  It would sting if it wasn’t true. He’s right, though; that’s all this was—I needed something, and he gave it to me. But he also took what he wanted in return.

  “Are you?” I challenge.

  The heat of his breath touches my face, and a soft glow illuminates the space between us. His gaze hovers on my mouth before his dark eyes flick up to mine. Even with my body still trembling from him, I hold his stare, well aware of how to play the game by now. One side of his mouth curls up, and all at once, the light disappears along with the warmth of him in front of me.

  I pull the string for the light, hanging from the ceiling. Once again, I’m alone and feeling everything.

  Gabe and I hook up a few days later.

  I don’t see Cass for over a month.

  The eye roll is back when Terra sees the skirt that stops above my knee and the top that only hugs most of my chest. “Where’s get-some Hannah? I liked her.”

  “She’s going to a nice restaurant, not the backseat of a guy’s car.”

  I check the mirror as I pull my hair up. Her reflection pops up behind mine and starts pulling out strands. My hands fall to my sides, letting her finish.

  “So, what are you going to tell Gabe?” she asks, spinning me around so she can see better.

  I sigh for what seems like forever. Gabe wants to take our casual relationship and make it official. It shouldn’t be an issue in the least, considering the biggest flaw I’ve found is that he’s perfect. He’s respectful and considerate and giving and humble. Yet anytime I try to imagine a future with him, all I see is the constant interference of a certain asshole angel who’s gone underground for the past five weeks. No one deserves to deal with that baggage for the rest of their life.

  Terra steps back, admiring her artistry. “There. Don’t walk too fast, or the breeze will ruin it.”

  “I’ll keep it at a leisurely stroll. And as for Gabe, I think I’m going to say yes.”

  Her face pulls back in an excited grin, eyes wide and strained, and she grabs my hands.

  “But,” I say before she erupts into a shrill squeal, “on a trial basis. He works all the time, and I plan on taking summer classes, so I can graduate early.”

  Her face falls at the last part. “Oh, right.” She stomps across the room. “I forgot you hate me and never want to see me again.”

  I nod. “It’s true. I’ve been trying to find the best way to tell you for years.”

  She sticks her tongue out at me. “Well, a yes is a yes. You need to have sex on a regular basis before you’re too old to have a quickie in the back of a bar.”

  “Words to live by.” I grab my purse on my way out. “And just so you know, the only reason I hate you is because you’re so much prettier than me.”

  “That’s a good reason,” she calls after me.

  Gabe’s waiting at the curb, car door open. He gives a low bow and sweeps his arm off to the side. “M’lady.”

  I smile as he straightens up. “I see we’re going with cheesy and over the top tonight.”

  “Only the best for you.” He folds his arms around me and grazes the tip of his nose over mine. He kisses me, slow and purposeful. That’s another one for the win column. He kisses like he’s savoring every single moment his lips are touching mine. Completely swoon-worthy.

  Gabe tucks the carefully sculpted hair behind my ear. “Ready to go?”

  I nod, and he steps aside, shutting the door after I climb in.

  When we get to the restaurant, it’s crowded, everyone piling in for a Saturday night date. Gabe keeps his hand on my back as we follow the hostess to our table, then pulls out my chair without a thought.

  He kisses me on the top of my head on his way to his own chair. “So, you going to break my heart right now or wait until after you’ve ordered the most expensive dessert on the menu?”

  I purse my lips and flip open the menu, scanning the dessert list. “I’m not a huge fan of tiramisu.”

  He’s serious when I lower the menu. “Be with me, Hannah.”

  It’s the kind of request that crawls into your chest and warms you from the inside out, and the reasons not to seem unimportant.

  I start to answer but cut off at what sounds like an entire tray worth of dishes crashing across the restaurant. I twist around in my chair, expecting to find Cass once again sabotaging my life. All I see are two waiters scooping down to collect shards of plates. I check the rest of the dining area. He has to be here.

  A hand on mine brings my attention back to Gabe, a patient smile on his face as he waits. My mind’s still on Cass, but I nod at him.

  His entire body relaxes, and he grins. “Yeah?”

  I smile. “But I still don’t want tiramisu. Ever.”

  He laughs, his grip on my hand tightening. “We’ll deal with your poor palate another time.”

  During dinner, I check around the restaurant a few times. The feeling of being watched lingers, but it fades by the time Gabe orders every dessert on the list, except for tiramisu. We choose what we want, and he sends the rest to the surrounding tables.

  When we go to leave, the front of the restaurant’s still packed with people waiting to be seated. Gabe takes my hand, leading me the other way, farther into the restaurant.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “I worked here a few summers ago. There’s a side exit through the kitchen we can take rather than fighting the mob.” He looks around while pushing open a swinging door.

  I follow him through an area where several servers fill glasses and make salads. As we cut through the kitchen, he nods at someone behind a counter. They seem unbothered by our presence, giving a nod back and wiping their hands on their apron. We walk between high wire racks filled with dry goods before we reach a door. He pushes the metal bar across the middle, and we step out into an alley.

  “See,” he says, pulling me to his side. “It’s the super-secret path.”

  I lean into him but straighten up as we near an abandoned car parked next to one of the brick walls on either side of us. “What’s that smell?”

  He shrugs. “Smells like an alley to me.”

  I stop, the scent now so heavy that I can’t not recognize it. Sulfur. My mind flashes to another alley where it hung in the air, the rest of the memories not far behind.

  Gabe’s arm slips from around me, and he turns back. “Hannah?”

  A sick feeling creeps over me when a man steps out of a shadow by the car. He’s practically a shadow himself, his movements cagey, eyes darting around like he’s waiting for something.

  Was he there a second ago?

  The jumpy gaze settles on me, and a
chill shoots down my spine. I tug on Gabe’s hand, trying to pull him back in the direction we came from, but he sees the man and steps between us.

  “Do you need something?” His voice stays calm as the man starts toward us, eyes never leaving me.

  I let go of Gabe, my feet pedaling me backward on pure instinct. “Cass.”

  Other than the terrified pounding inside my chest, everything stills for a moment. The man does another sweep of the area, but when nothing happens, an unsettling smile spreads across his face. In a flash, he’s throwing Gabe across the alley. His body bounces off a brick wall and lands on the hood of the car, denting the metal.

  Just as I look back at the man, he moves toward me too fast. Before I can scream, everything goes white. Heat envelops me, my feet not on solid ground anymore. It’s over in a second. The world comes back, and I’m on a sidewalk in front of a pawnshop.

  Cass.

  I regain my bearings, recognizing the street, and take off at a run back to the restaurant. He left me only a block away, so it doesn’t take me long. I dash around the corner into the alley but freeze within a few steps. Sparks crackle from both of Cass’s palms, his back to me, but it’s the man in front of him that sends dread streaking through me. Blackness swirls around him as he holds what looks like a ball of fire in his hand.

  Since he faces me, I earn the man’s attention right away. Cass checks over his shoulder. His fiery eyes lock on me right before both he and the man disappear. I’ve barely processed them vanishing when something slams into me from behind. It knocks me to the ground, but by the time I look back, nothing’s there. A crash down the alleyway sends my head back in the other direction. Cass stumbles out from near a dumpster, the man and his fire hand nowhere in sight. He stops a few feet away and stares down at me.

  “Goddamn it, Hannah.”

  I scramble to my feet and run to him, not caring that he’s still cursing me under his breath.

  He catches my face in his hands, searching it over. “Are you hurt?”

  I shake my head, tears blurring my vision.

  Letting out a pent-up breath, he pulls me toward him. He holds me tight against his chest, and I hide my face in his shirt. When I throw my arms around his middle, he jerks back, sucking in air. There’s a giant hole on the left side of his shirt, singed around the edges.

  I gasp, seeing the ripped and burned flesh beneath. “Oh my God, Cass.”

  “It’s fine,” he says dismissively. “Immortal being, remember? Your sweater on the other hand, not so much.”

  He tugs at the hem of my shirt. I look down at my top, covered in his blood. He shrugs out of his leather jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. As I slide my arms in, he steps aside, and I see the car behind him.

  Gabe.

  “Oh no.” I sprint down the alley, hating myself for not remembering him sooner.

  He’s still on the hood where he landed, not moving. Cass snags my arm, stopping me a few feet away. His hand runs down to mine, and he steps in front of me to press his fingers to Gabe’s neck.

  “He’s alive.” He checks around us, his grip tightening. “We need to get you out of here. I’ll come back for him.”

  I shake my head and start to back away. “No. He needs an ambulance.”

  “Yeah, I’m not doing this with you.”

  He jerks me back toward him. Heat, blinding white light, and I’m not in the alley anymore. I let out a frustrated groan, glancing around the dark room. My eyes adjust enough so that I can find a lamp and switch it on. All it takes is the empty whiskey bottle on the coffee table for me to figure out where I am.

  I lug Gabe’s ass into the emergency room, claiming I found him. Dropping Hannah at my apartment made her angry enough that it sped my healing, so I only need to explain the hole in my shirt rather than the gaping wound the fireball left me.

  By the time I put him down on a gurney, he’s coming around. They clear him of any head injuries, but he needs surgery for a broken arm. While waiting for a surgeon, they set him up in a room. I hang around until the last nurse walks out, closing the door behind her, and text Hannah. I’ve been saving a specific piece of information for a time like this.

  By the way, that was a demon that attacked you.

  It only takes a minute to feel her, and I drop in beside Preppy’s bed. Not giving him time to panic, I take his face in my hands, the light relaxing him until his eyes glaze over.

  “You were mugged at that stupid park with the lake you like so much. It was dark, so you didn’t get a good look at the guy.”

  His eyebrows pull together. “What about my girlfriend, Hannah?”

  The fuck he just say?

  It takes a lot of effort to keep the edge out of my tone to keep him under. “Hannah’s safe at the dorms. You’d already dropped her off.”

  A doofy smile appears as his brain fills in what happened when he dropped her off. I consider suggesting they ended the night with a firm handshake but feel the power fading fast.

  “You won’t remember anything from the alley or seeing me or talking to me. Understood?”

  He nods, and before I lose the ability to drop back to my apartment, I let go of him. He’s the only reason any of tonight even happened. If I wasn’t trying to sort out false positives whenever Hannah went out with him, I wouldn’t have missed her being in actual fucking danger. But I’m not letting him get in the way anymore. Hannah either. Chaz was right. It’s time I take charge of my charge.

  When I land in my living room, it’s dark, except for a lamp and a glow from the hallway. I follow it to my bedroom. A wedge of light shines through the partially open bathroom door. The shower runs, steam creeping out. I guess Hannah’s made herself at home.

  The burned-to-shit shirt lands on the floor, and I stretch out on the bed. My eyes fall shut, and I relax in what feels like the first time in weeks.

  At least with her here, I don’t have to worry about any attacks. After Lydia had let herself in angel-style, I dug through the spells we’d collected over the years. This place has been on lockdown since. Nothing from Heaven or Hell can make it in. Other than me.

  The water cuts off, and the shower curtain drags back. I force my eyes open and turn my head toward the door. Hannah faces away from me, towel secured around her while she dries her hair with another. She doesn’t notice me sprawled out on the bed when she comes out and starts digging through my drawers.

  “Looking for something?”

  She jumps, and I stretch out my fingers. I’ll never get enough of that. Divine light, that is. Hannah, on the other hand, has her limits.

  “Jesus,” she says.

  “Kasdaye actually.”

  She pulls out another drawer. “I need something to wear without angel blood all over it.”

  I haul myself off the mattress to find her a T-shirt and a pair of gym shorts.

  She takes them from me, her head cocking to the side as I lie back down. “You need to be in here?”

  “My bedroom, Hannah.”

  She huffs and walks back into the bathroom, leaving the door mostly open. “Is Gabe okay?”

  I pull out my phone to text Chaz and Rosdan about the attack. Samy too, because, pissed at him or not, he needs to stay in the loop.

  “Preppy’s going to be just fine. I told him he dropped you off and was mugged at the park.”

  Her shadow casts over me and the bed, and I look over as she walks out. Fuck if she doesn’t look hot, wearing my clothes. If I were the type to repeat mistakes, I would be only one burst of light away from pinning her against a wall again.

  She stops next to the bed and puts her hands on her hips.

  “What now?” I ask, staring at her hovering over me.

  She marches out without a word. It’s annoying when she does it. I pull a pillow over my face and groan into it. Being around her is just as stressful as not being around her.

  I get out there, and she’s already standing in the middl
e of the living room, arms crossed. Having a feeling I’ll deserve one in a few minutes, I detour to the kitchen for a beer.

  “Demons?” she asks when I reappear.

  I twist the top off and take a long drink, appreciating the slow build inside me. “Angels and demons. They go hand in hand.”

  “Is that who attacked me last time too?”

  I nod. “But if it makes you feel any better, you’re not the only one they’re trying to kill.”

  “Kill?” she shrieks.

  Maybe I should have left that part out.

  She hides her face in her hands, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. All of a sudden, she lifts her head. “Wait, why aren’t you hurt anymore?”

  I smirk. “You really don’t understand how all this works, do you?”

  She steps in front of me, looking at my abs where the fireball ricocheted off me. “Your powers can heal you.”

  Her hand reaches out to touch me, but I catch it. “I don’t think your boyfriend would appreciate you putting your hands all over me.”

  She looks up, not pulling away from me. “How do you know about that?”

  “He told me while I was wiping his memories.” I let go of her hand and go to the couch.

  Her eyes wander the room for a minute, and she disappears into the kitchen. Cupboard doors bang around for a while, and then she comes back with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. She buys my attention by pouring a glass and trading it for my empty beer bottle.

  “Why are the demons attacking me?”

  “We think they want to turn all the Watchers human, so they can use Nephilim blood whenever they want. They wait until you’re unprotected and try to kill you before we get to you.”

  She nods, filling her own glass. “So, they’ll keep coming after me. Possibly for the rest of my life.”

  I relax back and shake my head. “Unlikely. Demons have a short attention span.”

  “How long then?”