Mystic Realms: A Limited Edition Collection

by Nicole Morgan

  At one time, Azazel and Isaiah had been close friends. Isaiah always looked out for him when he took on the role of delivering messages between the gates. Azazel was the messenger, but not of good news. He was one of the messengers of death. He’d taken on the role as a favor to his father. Azazel had always wanted to be a Seraph, but instead of living his dream, he lived for his father and family. There were hundreds of death Angels. All carried messages of death and displacement. Some viewed this as good, and others viewed it as a curse. Life after death was something to look forward to for mortals. Some thought they would be recycled, others thought there was nothing, but Azazel came to offer them something more. Everything was not as it seemed. Humans had life and rebirth wrong. Azazel would come to the hall of records, recording their death and then restarting their life. It wasn’t reincarnation, as much as it was assimilation. The bodies of the dead were shed, and their souls were taken to the next verse. When the soul reached the next point to their journey, they were given the choice: new life or a sort of cosmic recycling, where they could become part of the stars or Watchers, as they were called, or they could try their hand at Earth again after three rotations. This was equivalent to three hundred Earth years. Not many chose that path, but there were a few. Their minds were wiped, and they were able to start again. Most death Angels enjoyed their jobs, but Azazel remained unhappy.

  Then, almost a year ago, things started to change. Isaiah felt something was wrong. He tried numerous times to approach the issue with him. Azazel always held him off, saying things changed, and it was time for him to leave.

  That wasn’t an unusual occurrence. Angels would come and go on a daily basis. Like Metatron, Azazel decided not to come back. Later, he’d shown up at the Gates issuing a challenge to the Warriors, stating he knew the truth, and they were being misled. That was almost six months ago.

  Azazel, the messenger became Azazel, the fallen. He had said that he was taking something that was proven to show everyone the truth. That was when the Book of Gates came up missing. The Book of Gates separated the hours of the night, guarded by twelve different serpents meant to keep the bad guys in and the mortals out. There were things that went bump in the night; only now some were bumping twenty-four seven in plain sight. Within weeks, the first gate had busted wide open. He, whose name was hidden, was the guardian of the beast. The beast wasn’t one creature of the twelfth hour but many. This had happened once before, but the Book was quickly recovered. Lilith had used the attack on the Nubi not only for revenge, but also as a diversion to get the Book. She could very well be the cause of its disappearance now.

  “Is there a reason you’re ignoring us?” Castiel thumped him on the back of the head, and Isaiah graced Castiel with a double bird.

  “You guys took long enough,” Isaiah commented as he took a seat on the couch. He leaned back, resting his head on the back end of the sofa and stared up at the ceiling.

  “Last time I checked, you were just a high-ranking pussy of a commander,” Raz laughed. “Why are you trying to be all high-handed now? I was just about to close the deal, man, but then fucktard over there,” Raz pointed toward Castiel, “tells me I have to make haste. Make haste, man, who the fuck talks like that anymore anyway? You all need to get with the program, man up. Go hard or go the fuck home.”

  Great, Raz was on another one of his long-winded speeches where he complained that they were all old, and he was in with the times. Truth was, they all had acclimated themselves as time went on, they were well aware of today’s colloquialisms, as well as urban slang. Castiel just enjoyed messing with Raz, because their younger brother was an easy target.

  “Fuck you, Raz,” Castiel shot back, “and spare us all your dire tirade about fitting into the mortal world. I may have to work here, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Castiel ground his teeth, a sure sign he was getting ready to burn out, something they all needed to avoid. He was rage personified when he saw red. Whereas Grey would silently access situations, Cas would go balls out into the fire, no matter the outcome. They’d saved his ass countless times because of his recklessness. Raz was the womanizer of the group, always going for the short skirts and the tight shirts. Raz didn’t care if they were mortal, immortal, or other. He only cared about one thing, and that was the end result. Isaiah was the level one. That’s what he’d been told, level-headed and calm.

  The bathroom door creaked open, and Isaiah looked over to see Dalila stick her head out. She’d let her hair free, and the curls hung loose and silky. A sudden urge to run his fingers through her hair danced through his mind.

  Raz’s entire body turned, while Castiel and Grey just stood, mouths open. Isaiah marched up to the door and blocked his brothers’ view. Hissing he said, “What the fuck are you doing, Dalila? Don’t just come out of the restroom. I said take a shower.” This must have been the deer in the headlights look, because her beautiful honey-colored eyes were wide, the centers darkened to a fiery glow. “Please.” She stepped around him and headed straight into the center of his new personal nightmare. He’d explained the situation to Grey and hoped like hell his brother had had the common decency to let the others know too. Isaiah could tell the moment Dalila had been taken off guard. He knew his brothers were intimidating; they were all big, himself included. Her back got a bit straighter, and she shifted her weight between her left leg and back to her right leg. She was nervous. Good. Maybe now she’d listen.

  Ω Ω Ω

  When she’d opened the bathroom door, she’d heard the voices, and still it didn’t register that he was talking to others. Yup, I’m in way over my head. Three other men engulfed the front area. All equally big. Oxygen particles could be seen scrambling to share space with their presence. Her lungs attempted to force air to acknowledge them, her eyes hurt from the savage beauty they represented, and static muffled all sound but her own breathing. She tried to speak; only the sound of a strangled mouse caught in a trap emerged from her lips. The one closest to her had black hair and dark turquoise eyes. Broad shoulders and a killer smile was all she had time to notice before he stepped directly to her, circling her like a hawk.

  “Hey, sugar, what’s shakin?” Whisky soaking up sugar, and the wolf devouring the lamb. His voice was orgasm-inducing and his eyes tracked her every movement. She almost swallowed her tongue. The guy was gorgeous. The tone of his words deep and sweet, a fathomless pit filled with blackberries soaked in nectar. A slow fall into purple honey. She could taste his voice, even though their lips hadn’t met. He was potent.

  “It’s okay, sugar, I have that effect on all the mortals. Once you go Raz, all others will be bad.” He gave her what she thought was his cockiest grin and then winked. Looking over his shoulder toward Isaiah, he cracked a grin. “Grey can wipe her after I’ve sampled her.” Before she could comprehend Isaiah’s reaction, the other guy was up against the wall, hanging by his feet. “Dalila is off limits, Raz, got it? Don’t you fucking touch her!” He shot a deadly glare toward the tallest of them. “I want you to wipe her clean and don’t let this fucker anywhere near her.” The whole time the one dangling by his feet kept staring in Dalila’s direction, and then he winked. Actually winked at her.

  “Wipe me?” The pitch in her voice bounced around the walls of the room, testing its foundation.

  “Aww come on, Isaiah, she would be into me.” Dalila looked at the one Isaiah called Raz and quickly looked away. They were all magnificent. The giant one, over in the kitchen, had his hip propped against the counter and feet crossed at the ankles. He appeared to be relaxed, but Dalila could tell he could jump into action at a moment’s notice. He was hard and currish looking. The eyes were what spoke to her first. Combustion, explosive tendrils of heat wafted in a choreographed dance, hypnotic in a way that calmed her. Amber orbs pierced her skin. His black hair and deeply tanned skin made his eyes flame. He, too, had a collar with markings on them. Just beneath the collar, she could see inking from a tat. Dalila wondered just where those tatts led, but
quickly shook the thought away. This one had a stop sign all over his body, with a heavy dose of fuck-off. There was another by the fireplace. He was leaner than the rest of them, and also wore a collar like the others. His hair wasn’t exactly black; it wasn’t exactly brown either. His eyes were a disturbing violet. Electric violet. He didn’t look as lethal as the large one, but he did have an air of danger around him. Raz’s eyes were turquoise. Right now, they looked emerald green, and his hair was black with auburn highlights. Mischievous, his eyes were plotting some secret game that only he knew about. Dalila could tell he was a firecracker.

  “Isaiah,” Dalila sighed. “Please put...Raz—is that his name?” The one by the fireplace nodded. “Please put Raz down. Can someone tell me what the hell is going on around here?” Isaiah watched her over his shoulder, nodded, then let Raz slide to the floor. The male landed on his feet, adjusted his shirt, and flipped Isaiah the bird, while taking a seat on the couch. He dragged his hands through his hair, winced, and looked up a Dalila. When he did, the playfulness he had earlier vanished, and in its place was an extremely cold, calculating man. The temperature in the room dropped at least ten degrees and his eyes were back to being turquoise instead of green. Isaiah took a step toward Dalila; in turn, she took a step back.

  “Please have a seat. No one here is going to hurt you.” Melodious words wrapped around her body, caressed her ears, easing the worry in her gut. The male in the kitchen stood from his slouched position. His amber eyes tracked her movement, and his voice soothed her into submission, but her brain kicked back.

  She seriously doubted that she would not hurt from this experience. What could she do? If she tried to leave, she was as good as dead. She also had every intention of gathering information.

  “I’m sure my brother has explained to you that it’s dangerous to leave on your own. The reason for the wipe is simple. We take your memories, and then you go back to the way your life was before all of this happened. It’s best for everyone,” Raz, explained. He sat forward with his elbows braced on his knees, as if he needed to be eye level with her.

  “Best for everyone?” Now she was getting pissed. She was perfectly capable of deciding what was best for her, not them. Controlling-ass men and their acts of chivalry. She could hear Jared in her head, telling her what she could and could not do. She wanted to explode, rant and rave at the craziness of these men, who thought she’d be better off if she just did as they told her. Ha. She’d wait them out if she had to. They’re Warrior Angels, idiot. They can wait you out until your dying day. You’re mortal, they’re not. Dalila’s heart sank. Did she honestly want to be stuck with immortal babysitters? Dread rolled down her spine. Four men—four sinfully gorgeous men—women dreamed about moments like these; if only she felt the same. Right now, all she felt was caution.

  “Dalila, what Raz is saying is correct; you can’t know of our existence, you’d be in more danger than you are now,” Isaiah growled.

  “If you take my memories of this, I won’t know that I’m in danger. Thereby making it more dangerous for me and vulnerable to whomever or whatever it is that is a danger to me.” The men in the room looked to one another, as if silently having their own conversation. After what seemed liked long minutes later, the one with the violet eyes spoke. “We eliminate the danger and then we wipe her, it’s as simple as that.” He looked straight at her, not blinking, not even smiling; he just pierced her with his electric violet gaze. “When this is over, you will be wiped, understand, mortal?”

  “Dalila...my name is Dalila, and your name is?” He didn’t even look in her direction as he spoke.

  “I don’t care what your name is. There is no reason to know mine, as you will not remember it when the time comes.” He fixed his icy stare on Isaiah. “Stop while you’re way ahead of the game, brother, way ahead of the game.” Violet Eyes walked over to the sliding glass door, where his black wings burst free. Gravel and dirt from the ground stirred in a mini-vortex of air as he lifted off in the sky, there was a distinct sound as the air was displaced and then he was gone. Dalila must have had her mouth open because Raz chuckled.

  “Awesome, huh?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  Raz smirked. “You guess. Sure, try and pretend like you don’t wish you had awesome wicked wings the color of night, but I know you.” He pointed a finger in her face, and then gently tapped her nose and winked. “You want to fly just as much as the next mortal. It’s in your genetic makeup. Mortals always want what they can’t obtain. By any means necessary.” He flashed a boyish grin, a simple smile that held all kinds of secrets. Secrets she knew were dark and dirty. Dalila wanted to fly; who wouldn’t want the opportunity to fly and soar toward the heavens? Life as she knew it officially sucked in Normalville.

  Isaiah paced the length of the living room and looked toward his brother; again, it looked like some internal conversation was going on between them. Grey nodded, and then Isaiah grabbed her keys off the table.

  “We’re going to head back over to the state park and make sure that we haven’t left anything that Azazel can use to track her. I need to make sure there aren’t any clues he left behind. Anything at all.” He motioned with his head for her to follow.

  “Clothes. You said I’d have fresh clothes,” she squeaked. She was not going to wear the same thing she had on yesterday.

  “Oh, right. Clothes.” Isaiah nodded toward Amber Eyes. There was a bit of disorientation and then she was dressed in fresh clothing, a simple T-shirt and some form-fitting jeans. Dalila even had on fresh underclothes and socks, and a pair of sturdy boots. Isaiah looked her over and Raz grinned.

  “Ready?” Isaiah asked.

  Too stunned to speak, she just nodded and followed him out to the car.

  Ω Ω Ω

  Dalila stepped out into the sun. Rays pierced her pupils, causing a steady ache in the backs of her eyes. She was returning to the park with Isaiah, while Raz and the others stayed behind. Violet Eyes didn’t like her, and if she wasn’t mistaken, they were all Seraphim, or as she remembered in her college world religion class, the ‘Burning Ones’. What was with the damn collars? She was too curious for her own good. Despite all that had transpired over the last twelve hours, she was more interested in their history than her safety. It’s the geeky nerd in you. That’s what Lyric would have told her. Damn, she still needed to call her boss and loyal friend but just hadn’t remembered since the whole showing of the wings episode. Dalila looked back to watch as Isaiah locked up and walked toward her. Even his stride was sexy; men like him had no business being out on the street. Not so much of a nerd to notice his manliness, are you? Hell, she wished she could land a man that looked as appetizing as he did. She banished that notion immediately; she was done with men. She would do as Isaiah and his brothers had asked. She’d stay put until this was over, but after that Operation Start Over would take effect ASAP. For the sake of not going there, men were off the menu. Her diet would no longer include strong, virile, and hotter than hell men. You’ve never had that type of man, so how could they be off the menu? Fine, so they weren’t off the menu, they were just at the five-star restaurants she could never afford to eat at.

  Getting in her car, she immediately endured the mass of him. Isaiah’s enormous body swallowed the entire span of her Bug. “Your mom must have fed you a lot of red meat growing up,” Dalila mumbled.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sorry, you’re large.”

  “No, your car is too small,” he said.

  She started the car and pulled out the driveway. Tongue-tied and not able to surmise anything else to say, she blurted, “You sure live way out in the country. Is this even where you live, or your base of operations for whatever it is you and your brothers are searching for?” Small talk would make things comfortable for them, although in Dalila’s case, it wasn’t working too well. She kept sneaking glances in his direction; he was distracting.

  “This is where I sleep, but it is not my home.” He sound
ed annoyed.

  Now that she had time to consider the whole situation, it was exciting, sitting next to a real Angel, a Warrior class Angel at that. Dalila hit the steering wheel in excitement. “I totally remember now what the collars are for.” Isaiah stared at her like she was all kinds of creepy. But she continued, “You are Warrior class Angels, but not like the Archangels. Higher. The collars are your service collars until you meet your other half. I can’t remember the whole story, but my friend, Lyric, the one I did the paper with, was fascinated with the lore behind the Burning Ones. We worked meticulously for hours on this project. She was specifically interested in what she called the burning period.” Damn, but it felt fantastic to know what she was talking about. Putting her college education to acceptable use. Not wasted education, after all. “I don’t remember all the symptoms or signs for the burning period, but I remember how intense it was.” What she’d read of the burning period in her class was that it was an intense bonding between the Warrior and his mate. Myth, she remembered her professor stating it was speculation only. “There wasn’t anything concrete written in any of the books I read on the subject. One book wrote that it was an intense feeling, that if the two partners became one they would reach a new level of oneness so complete, they’d become one in all things. Mind. Body. Soul. Literally. To have that kind of relationship is what all people should strive for. Then again, it was all speculative.” Dalila’s voiced trailed off as she realized that she was babbling. Had she said all of that out loud?