by Misty Dietz
“Right. I agree with that, but I was referring to their ability to command relics to act on their behalf. That we don’t know. Nor can we speculate on any unknown relics not under the protection of a Guardian. The only certainty is the archdemons’ desire to ferry them to Hell for Lucifer.”
“I think it’s unrealistic to think we have every single relic accounted for. All religions like their tangible objects. Christianity’s no different. There’s probably dozens of holy objects still waiting to be discovered.” She sat on a stool at the counter. “And if that’s the case, it’s only a matter of time before a demon sets Lucifer free.”
“Or, it buys us more time because there are more keys they have to find in order to get the right one.”
“The ‘right one’? What are you talking about?”
“What it if takes only one?”
She blinked at him. “You can’t be serious.” When he didn’t reply, she continued, “What makes you think that?”
He shrugged and slid a plate with a turkey sandwich in front of her. “It was just a thought I had after a philosophical discussion with the Dalai Lama about ‘keys.’ Keys to Heaven, Keys to Happiness. That sort of thing. What if we’re taking the phrase too literally? When you unlock something in particular, does it usually take multiple keys? No.”
Her eyebrows lifted and her face paled. “That’s actually…alarming.”
He shouldn’t have brought it up. The last thing she needed was extra worry. He came around the counter to put his hands on her shoulders. “Who knows if it’s true. If it is, they’ll have to go through a lot of relics to find the right one.”
She pushed his hands off her shoulders. “Or they’ll get lucky right away.”
He shook his head. “We can only do our best with what’s in our control.” He stared at her as she looked around the room, again wishing he hadn’t brought it up. “Kat.”
“What?” she snapped, bringing her gaze back to his.
“We can only do our best with what’s in our control.”
She compressed her lips. “I heard you the first time.”
“Good.” He pointed to her sandwich and moved back around the counter. “Now eat. Forgiving yourself burns loads of calories, I’ve heard.”
While he made a few more sandwiches, she swiveled her stool to look out the window, eating. He exhaled quietly and rolled his shoulders. After a while she leaned back in her stool. “Logic says relying on Leviathan would be a bad move, but we have to think outside the box.”
“Outside the box, yes, but gambling on an archdemon’s ability to be honest is insanity.”
“Michael and the other archangels won’t help us, the rogues.”
“Archangel involvement equals Armageddon,” he reminded.
She rubbed her eyes. “I know. But…maybe it’s time.”
For Armageddon? Whoa. He set his sandwich down and moved toward her, holding out a hand. “You definitely need more rest if fatalism is overshadowing your propensity toward sarcasm. While you sleep, I’ll check in with your staff and the relic.”
“Doom and gloom is the perfect diet for sarcasm.” She stood and avoided his grasp. “Knowing what’s happening out there, it’s irresponsible to sit here doing nothing. Siolazar is probably watching this house waiting for the right time to annihilate us. Leviathan is likely plotting her next move. Demons are eviscerating Waikiki Beach tourists and locals alike…”
“You can’t do any more exorcisms until the humans are cleared of Nephilim toxin.”
“So, what then? We let more humans lose the fight to the invading demons?”
He wished he had the answers, but he’d never encountered anything like this before. “I’ll summon Alexios for his thoughts. In the meantime, you need to focus on returning to full strength.”
Kat pulled a protein shake from the fridge. “We could convince Leviathan we’re ready to work with her, then use her to control things.”
Stubborn woman. “Good luck with that. You ever heard of holding a tiger by the tail?”
“Being a Guardian is dirty work, Ari. Existing almost twelve hundred years should have made that abundantly clear to you. I’m not suggesting we trust her. I’m saying we use her game against her.”
He stared at Kat. She wasn’t being honest with herself. She was still holding out hope that Leviathan was who she was claiming to be. An innocent victim of bad public relations via her evil daddy. But Ari didn’t want to fight anymore. He just wanted to take care of his compar. “Nate and Jessie beat Asmodeus without consorting with demons.”
“Well good for them,” she said. “But unless you have any other ideas, I think making up new rules might be in order.”
Meaning play Russian roulette with Leviathan.
Well, that was definitely not happening. He tamped down a surge of guilt to concentrate on the telepathic link she’d left open to him. He honed in on her metal barriers to break them down, chastising himself as he seized her neurons that were responsible for action and wakefulness. As an old-as-dirt Guardian, it was almost as easy for him as turning off a light switch.
He caught her the instant she dropped into unconsciousness.
His heart pounded as he looked down at the woman in his arms.
This was selfish. He knew it.
He didn’t like knowing it. He’d rarely ever worried about what was self-serving. He squeezed her to his body, twin sensations of guilt and relief raising his core body temperature. He had told her he didn’t want to control her or do anything that made her uncomfortable. Now here he was, forcing her to sleep. Controlling alpha jackass move for sure.
He gritted his teeth. When she woke, she’d be understandably cross. But…he’d rather deal with her fury than her corpse. Consorting with an archdemon definitely qualified in the fear-for-her-life category.
Ari streamed them back to her private chambers at AQUA, still questioning his heavy-handed move. He laid her down on the bed, then went to the closet to look for an extra blanket. His fingers tunneled through a pile of fur throws he’d once given her.
She’d kept all of them.
He brought three of the blankets to the bed and gently wrapped her in them. He kissed her forehead and paused by the door to look back at her, his pulse still bumping erratically. He’d check on her staff, watch over the relic, and try to figure out what the hell they were going to do while she slept.
Maybe if he had a plan together by the time she woke up, she’d forgive him for taking away her self-determination.
Chapter 15
Kat woke alone with mid-afternoon sunlight on her face. She opened her eyes and stared at the wood beams in the ceiling of her AQUA bedroom. You. Have. Got. To Be. Kidding. Me. She let out a yell, slamming her fist ineffectually against the bed covers.
That son of a bitch had put her to sleep.
She laid there for a moment, breathing through her anger and embarrassment, sending out her senses to detect if there was any immediate jeopardy beyond these walls. Encountering the typical energy pattern of her team and no unusual malevolence in the vicinity outside, she brought her focus back to her bedroom. Her twisted emotions sent a new rush of blood into her face. She rolled to her side and curled her knees to her chest, closing her eyes against the welling, angry tears. Yes, horrors awaited them with Leviathan’s demon horde. But Ari had taken away her choice, damn him.
Damn him.
That could not go uncontested. Did he think so little of her Guardian abilities or her mental capacity to handle the situation?
She never would have done the same thing to him if she were in his position, would she?
Would she?
It was hard to know. Ari seemed so…invincible.
She wiped her eyes on the pillow and gathered the soft blankets to her nose, allowing herself a moment to indulge in his scent—a self-injurious tradition she indulged in once a year on the anniversary of their first night together. He’d acquired the furs for her in Quebec.
Now he
knew she’d never gotten rid of the blankets. Spleeny barnacles! She blinked up at the ceiling for several more moments, breathing through her embarrassment and resisting the answers to her questions.
But when it came down to it…yes, she’d do anything in her power to protect Ari, too.
And, no, he didn’t discount her capabilities. To believe that of him was unfair and unkind. She knew on a strictly rational level that he respected her. He was too damn honest to lie anyway.
Why then was it so hard to let herself accept it? To believe she was worthy of his esteem?
“Baggage, baggage, and more buggery baggage,” she whispered to the empty room.
She was tired of carrying it. Unpacking it was going to prove messy and time-consuming, so for now she’d have to settle for off-loading it.
Glancing out the windows at the ocean side of the club, everything sounded and appeared normal. No city sirens or scary fallen angels and archdemons trolling for their next soul. Instead, tourists strolled along the sunny beach snapping pictures while surfers paddled out to catch the next wave. It was a relief to finally know why she’d been so sick for the last few weeks. If Ari hadn’t been here, she probably wouldn’t have figured it out. Or it would have taken her a long time. Time she might not have had.
She yawned and stretched, then grabbed her phone, which Ari had had enough sense to bring when he streamed them back to the club. 3 pm. Lordy. She’d slept a deep, uninterrupted sleep for hours. Incredible. Feeling this good, she could almost excuse his heavy-handedness.
Almost.
You’ll always be my True North.
For better or worse, love and fear were the greatest motivators of all.
One side of her lips tipped up. Wasn’t she so mature now?
The next trick would be actually learning to like herself. She grimaced and strode into her closet where she stripped out of her day-old yoga pants and t-shirt and slipped into a pair of dark jeans, white blouse, and tailored, navy blazer. If she was going to die facing off with demons today, at least she’d do it looking put together.
She rolled her shoulders as she emerged from her closet, but stopped mid-stride to the bathroom when she suddenly heard water running. Why hadn’t she heard or been aware of it before?
She sent her senses through the woodwork. When she connected with Ari’s unique essence, a slow wave of desire rolled through her. Visions of his powerful body, warm water sluicing down his shoulders, sliding over the ridged planes of his abs, dripping off his—
“You’re welcome to come in and touch the real thing,” his bass voice rumbled from behind the door.
She wrinkled her nose, her face heating. You ninny. If she could feel him, of course he’d be able to sense her as well. She shivered. Do not open that door. “I have work to do, but first I need to use the facilities, so you need to scram, Grimm.”
Come in here. I’m not talking to you through a closed door—your head is thick enough.
How annoying could one man be? She barged in and stopped, heart skidding to a halt, her breath hitching somewhere near her Adam’s apple.
Her gorgeous Viking was buck-ass naked…
Shaving his chest hair.
And smiling that sexy grin that imploded her brain cells.
He’d always been immodest. The man could walk around naked all day long and not care who saw him. And he absolutely loved to bathe. Whoever started the myth that Vikings had been unkempt had it wrong, wrong, wrong. Yowza. Five, ten, fifteen seconds ticked by….The longer she stood there taking in that hard, golden body, the more she could almost hear her brain cells whimper.
He turned off the water and smirked like he knew—just knew—what she was thinking.
“Permission for verbal admiration granted, North. And hey, I’m feeling generous today, so monosyllabic vowels count. Ooo and aaa are perfectly reasonable, considering your present awestruck condition.”
Her face burned as she swiped her watch off the counter, watching his powerful forearms out of the corner of her eyes. “I couldn’t sense you in here. How did you do that?” Maybe it was a Guardian trick she hadn’t learned.
“You needed sleep so I dropped the air density in the bathroom to prevent the sound waves from transmitting.”
That was sweet. Truly. And the physics of his Air element were fascinating. Still… “If you ever put me to sleep like that again, I will hurt you.” Solitary confinement would probably be the best way to torture him. Solitary confinement with no windows and no light. “Would you get some clothes on? You look ridiculous.” Ridiculously sexy. Gah! God would surely dispatch his warrior archangel to smite her for her ludicrous insult to such a breathtaking man. Particularly if God was a woman. Or at least bisexual.
Actually, was God pansexual? That made the most sense.
“I’d rather be completely ridiculous than completely boring,” he drawled. “The ethereal Marilyn Monroe said that. I’m sure you’ve heard of her. Lovely individual. Raj asked me to fill in as her bodyguard for a few days when you announced to the worldwide Guardian contingent that you’d had enough of me back in the nineteen fifties, remember that? You returned my red roses. Spray painting them black was a nice touch, by the way.”
Katherine’s whole body tensed. Bodyguard to one of the world’s most enduring sex symbols? What was that expression her Englishmen partners, Nate and Spencer, used with such aplomb? Ah, yes…
Bloody hell.
She snatched a towel and threw it at him. If it was possible, he looked even sexier covered by the towel. And that bulge…
She slapped a hand over her eyes to keep them shut, but the image of the tented towel was seared in her brain.
Why did she even care who he thought was ethereal? She was the one who kept pushing him away. If she pushed him away long enough, of course he’d seek out more hospitable women.
And who wouldn’t be hospitable to—she parted her fingers to peer at him—that.
Dumb, dumb, dumb. Just DUMB. She was jealous over a movie star who’d been dead for decades. Marilyn Monroe had been a sad, lonely woman, ever scorned by jealous bitches like herself. It was a more depressing commentary on herself than anything the breathy-voiced actress had ever done. “Ethereal is not a descriptor for exorcists like me, so, just…whatever. Go on and get out of here.”
She moved toward the vanity, but he held her in place with a warm, firm grip on her upper arm. His other hand caressed her face, his eyes twinkling. “I am humbled and greatly pleased by your possessiveness.”
“Pfft. Why would I be jealous? Remember the black roses? I swear, Ari, you don’t have a humble bone in your body.”
“You’d never want a man whose machismo wasn’t bulletproof.” He backed her into the sink and hoisted her up onto the cool Carrera marble, his eyes suddenly somber. “I am much aggrieved for taking away your self-determination.”
“Good. Then don’t ever do it again. I mean it, Ari. Now scram. I need to get ready so I can get back to work.”
“Everyone is accounted for downstairs, supplies are stockpiled, repairs are underway, and the demons are obviously licking their wounds. My main concern right now is your physical and emotional wellbeing.” His lips traced her ear, a delicious warmth spreading through her belly. “How are we doing with that self-love thing?”
“I am doing fine. Now really,” she tried to push him back, but he wouldn’t budge, “I must see to my staff, Ari.”
“Are you pleased that I am now hair-free?”
She pulled her lips to the side to forestall a smile. “I never objected to hair on your chest.” But it was quite endearing that he’d worry over her earlier comment.
“But you said…”
“It was an off-the-cuff example to illustrate a point. Anyway, you’re getting me off topic. Please, Ari. Seriously, I want to check on everything.”
“Alexios brought Father Angus, as well as another Guardian-friendly priest a couple of hours ago. They’ve been knocking off possessions like special ops
forces. And we know how to clear the Nephilim taint in the possessed, so there’s no reason why you can’t take another hour to rest. I’ll help you fix your hair.”
He removed her blazer instead. Then his hands found the buttons on her blouse. She sat there, letting his fingers work their magic until every last button lay undone, her blouse gaping open in silent welcome. He unhooked the center clasp of her bra and slid his rough palms along her waist, his thumbs coming up to caress the undersides of her breasts. “You feel so good, North,” he breathed in her ear.
She pushed him back, inhaling deeply to clear the lust haze clouding her brain. “Wait, how will you clear the Nephilim toxin from the possessed?” A single thought flashed in her mind, and when his eyes widened, she realized she’d linked up with him. “Using my relic? No way. It would probably kill them, the same as it might kill me. We are not taking the Chains out of the reliquary. Besides, Alexios would never agree to that.”
“Under normal circumstances, no he wouldn’t. But these aren’t normal times, North. The two priests are doing great so far, but they can’t do all the exorcisms. There’s just too many. And relics have been used on possessed humans innumerable times with great success.”
So she’d heard. Still, she couldn’t imagine their Guardian leader agreeing to let the Chains of St. Peter out of the special inner chamber she’d built for the holy object. “You’re sure Alexios gave his okay for this?”
“Since when are you so concerned about following orders?”
“I’m—” He hoisted her off the counter and peeled her jeans down her thighs. When he set her back on the marble countertop she realized her thong had somehow managed to hitch a ride with her jeans, so she was…quite exposed. “Grimm.”
“I liked seeing you wrapped in the furs I bought you...” His hands drew up to cup her breasts.
She cleared her throat, unable to stop her fingertips from exploring his back and obliques. “I forgot those were still in my closet.”
“Liar.” His whisper raised gooseflesh all over her body though it was still warm and humid in the room. He ran the backs of his fingers from her clavicle over the swell of her breasts peeking between the opening of her blouse. “But I like you better in…” She watched his eyes darken as his hands slipped her blouse and bra straps from her shoulders. “Skin.”
