by Sandra Hill
He smiled. “I had to go to the mercantile in N’awlins to sell our sugar. You know that, darlin’.” Good heavens, I even have a Southern drawl. He nuzzled her neck and relished the smell of her fresh, clean skin. Like roses and musk, it was. He’d recognize her in a crowd by that scent alone. It was the woman scent that had drawn him to her before their marriage.
Marriage? Whoa! That was a giant leap he hadn’t been expecting. Was he still a vampire angel?
He ran his tongue inside his upper gums.
Yes, he was.
“Come!” she said then, pushing away from him and lifting her skirts in front so that she could run. Glancing over her shoulder when she was already halfway up the stairs, she laughed and called saucily over her shoulder, “Catch me if you can.”
Gabrielle being saucy? This had to be a dream. Who cared? Not him. If there was anything a Viking . . . even a Viking Southerner . . . loved, it was a challenge. He took the stairs two at a time.
Oddly, there didn’t seem to be anyone else about. A pre–Civil War plantation, as this appeared to be, would be buzzing with house servants and outside workers, not to mention family. Ah, well, privacy was best for what he had in mind.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, they never made it up to the bedroom. Ivak caught up with her in the entryway where the bright midday sunlight was filtered through colorful stained glass windows. Open pocket doors let in more light from a large, elegant salon.
He lifted her by the waist so that her slippered feet dangled off the marble floor. Twirling her around, they landed against one wall. He took the brunt of the hit, but then turned so that her back was braced against the brocade wallpaper. “Got you,” he growled.
She wriggled against him so that her breasts rubbed abrasively against the fine linen of his shirt under his open waistcoat. “Oh, woe is me! What shall I do?” She smiled flirtatiously at him.
It was a game they often played, apparently.
“Show me,” he ordered.
Immediately, she lowered both of her sleeves down to her elbows, causing her bodice to come down, too. Now her breasts were exposed to him in a sheer chemise, and her arms were restrained at her sides.
He smiled. Her breasts were among his favorite body parts. They were not too small and not too large. Just big enough. A perfect fit for a man’s hand. For his hand. Because she’d never borne a child, the nipples and areolas were a pale pink.
“What shall I do first?” he inquired with mock innocence.
She arched her back so that her breasts pressed forward. A tempting invitation that needed no words. Already the nipples were hard pebbles of arousal.
“You really did miss me, didn’t you?” he husked out, tracing each of the peaks with a forefinger.
She inhaled sharply, then demanded, “More.”
“Witch!” He leaned down and took one breast into his mouth through the thin cloth, nipple and areola both. Drawing them deep into his mouth, he sucked hard as he drew back until only the nipple was between his lips. Over and over he practiced this exercise until finally he laved the hardened peak with his tongue, then bit it lightly with his teeth. He did the same with the other breast.
She was mewling with excitement by the time he finished.
He kissed her then. Long, hard kisses in which he tilted his head one way, then another, to get the right position so that he would not cut her with his fangs. Only then did he push his tongue inside. She sucked on him, which felt as if she was sucking on his already rock-hard staff that hardened even more.
“I need you, dearling,” he husked against her open mouth. Already his balls had risen and swelled, ready to ejaculate. Too soon, too soon!
“Take me, then,” she said.
I thought you’d never ask. Since she was unable to lift her skirts herself, he did that for her, untying the hoops and tossing them to the side. When she was bare from the waist down, except for her slippers, he raised her up so that she could wrap her legs around his hips. With his eyes holding her gaze, he thrust inside her tight, moist folds ’til he was buried to the hilt. For a moment he saw stars and could only press his forehead against hers, inhaling and exhaling in an attempt to tamp down his enthusiasm. It was no good. He had waited too long.
He began the long strokes, which soon became short and hard, banging her against the wall with an enticing rhythm. She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she looked at him, her heart in her eyes.
He exploded inside her. His fangs were exposed, and he latched on to her neck, taking some of her sweet life sustenance. This was Heaven, he decided. Not Heaven’s End.
When he was done . . . or leastways had stopped himself from taking too much . . . he raised his head and licked her blood off his receding fangs. Only then did he say, “You know this is only a dream, Gabrielle. Right?”
She smiled at him, leaned up and kissed one of his fangs. “Frankly, Ivak, I don’t give a damn!”
At first, she thought she was still dreaming . . .
Gabrielle was walking into Second Chances that morning when her cell phone rang.
“Gabby?”
Gabrielle stopped just inside the door, frozen with shock. Leroy never called her unless it was at the designated time.
“Leroy? What the matter?”
“You better give Ivak a big kiss next time you see him.”
She waved to the receptionist and walked into her office, setting her briefcase down on her desk. “Why?”
“He did it.”
“You’re scaring me here, Leroy. He did what?”
“Saved my ass.”
“Leroy Sonnier! Did you get into a fight?”
“Hell, no. Do you think I’m stupid? Don’t answer that.”
“Le-roy!”
“Okay, okay,” he said, laughing. “Hebert died last night, but before he died, Ivak got him to sign an affidavit recanting his earlier testimony.”
Gabrielle sank down into her chair and began to weep.
“Are you crying?”
“What do you think?”
“You should have seen the warden’s face when Ivak handed him the documents. I thought he was going to shit a brick.”
She was about to criticize Leroy for his bad language but decided to give him a pass this time. “I wish I could have been there.”
“Ivak says you need to call some character named Thor and file for a new trial.”
“I’ll do it as soon as I hang up. Oh, Leroy, we’ve waited so long for this. Just make sure that you walk the line in the meantime. The folks at Angola aren’t going to like admitting a mistake.”
“Hah! Ivak has Svein on my tail so close I can’t even go in the showers without him. In fact, he asked me last night if I wanted him to soap my back.”
“Oh you! I’m glad that you can joke. Even your voice has changed. It’s lighter, more cheerful, the way it used to be back when . . . well, just back a long time ago.”
“I have a lot to be cheerful about.”
“It appears I have a lot to thank Ivak for. Do you happen to know his cell number?”
“He’s right here.”
“He is?”
“Yeah. Hey, Ivak, my sister wants to talk to you. Will I see you on visiting day this week, Gabby?”
“You couldn’t keep me away.”
There was a pause before she heard Ivak’s voice. “You summoned me, sweetling?”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank Mike . . . or rather, God. And while you’re at it, you might want to thank Tante Lulu and St. Jude, too.”
She smiled. “I will. I never thought when I woke up this morning that such a miracle would occur.”
“Speaking of waking up,” he said, “Have you ever seen the movie Gone with the Wind?”
Oh no! He had the same dream as I did. Again. She felt her face heat up. “Uh, I don’t think so.”
“Liar!” He chuckled. “By the by, you look good in green.”
“I’m so happy
, I won’t even berate you for invading my dreams again.”
“I’ll see you on Saturday?”
“Definitely.”
“I’ll practice puckering up to get that kiss Leroy mentioned.”
“Hey, I wasn’t serious,” she heard Leroy say in the background.
“Ivak, you do deserve a kiss.”
“Hah! Methinks I deserve more than a kiss,” he said in a lower tone of voice so that Leroy couldn’t overhear.
“Maybe,” she agreed.
“I’ll take a maybe. For now,” he said. “So,” he drawled, and paused for dramatic effect, “I wonder what our dreams will be tonight.”
She laughed, too full of joy to contain her happiness. “Frankly, Ivak. I don’t give a damn.”
Sixteen
A Mission Impossible? . . .
A summons went out for the VIK to meet at the castle in Transylvania. When Ivak arrived, his six brothers were already there, having been called in from their various assignments around the world.
And, ominously, a hush lay over the castle. Not a bird could be heard. Not a breeze was blowing. Mike was here.
There were workmen’s trucks about, but no men in sight. The castle renovations were a never-ending process. A ten-foot-high stone wall surrounding the vast perimeter had been started since he’d been here last, and work continued on reslating the roof. And that was just outside.
He entered from the back courtyard into the kitchen where Lizzie and two helpers went silently about their chores. Moving through the hallway, he noticed that the mural depicting Michael casting Lucifer out of heaven was half completed by one of their vangel artists, then passed the chapel that was overflowing with praying vangels. Everyone wanted to be on best behavior when Mike was in the building.
Ivak and his brothers might refer to their mentor in a less-than-deferential manner and even make fun of him at times, but there was no question Michael was a powerful entity. Not just an archangel, but an archangel of the highest power. How could he not be? He was God’s right-hand man.
That heavenly presence was obvious when Ivak entered the front salon and bowed to the figure sitting on a wingback chair to one side of the massive fireplace, which was unlit in deference to the September heat. His brothers perched nervously on sofas and chairs about the vast room, which, like everything else in the house, was only partially renovated.
Sometimes Michael wore typical angelic attire—white robe with rope belt—but today he wore jeans, a white T-shirt, and athletic shoes, but he looked nothing like a modern-day athlete. Not with that halo-like glow that surrounded his long, silky black hair or the ornate gold cross that hung from a chain around his neck. Unless he was St. Michael Jordan.
Ivak couldn’t believe he was making jokes with himself at a time like this.
“Ivak! You’re late,” Michael pronounced.
Oops! His face heated with embarrassment at being singled out for rebuke. “I had difficulty getting permission to leave the prison. Tight security measures are still in place.” At the questioning tilt of Michael’s head, Ivak explained, “The unexplained disappearances that we know are due to the Lucies.” As if Mike didn’t know! After all, he’d been the one to cover all the demon tracks.
“Ah, the Lucipires! Jasper is ever a thorn in the Lord’s heart.” A sadness came over Michael’s face, and Ivak recalled that Jasper had been one of the favored archangels before being cast out of Heaven with Lucifer. In fact, Jasper had once been a friend of Michael’s. But then Michael’s expression turned resolute. “We must get the Lucipires out of Louisiana. That is why I have come today.”
Whoa! Did he say Louisiana? Not Angola. Or New Orleans. All of Louisiana?
“Yes, Ivak, I meant all of Louisiana.”
That was the bad thing about Michael. He could read minds. Ivak tried his best to clear his head lest he reveal something he would rather not.
Michael laughed.
His brothers looked at him to see what he’d been thinking that would amuse the archangel.
“Pretty, isn’t she?” Michael remarked.
Oh, that is just great! Images of Gabrielle must have flickered through my brain.
“Who is pretty?” his brothers asked as one.
Ivak wasn’t about to get involved in that discussion. He sat down on a love seat next to Vikar and asked Michael, “What would you have me do?”
“Not just you. All of the VIK. This is war,” Michael said.
That got everyone’s attention. He and his brothers leaned forward with interest. There was nothing a Viking liked more than war.
“Men . . . even vangels . . . cannot take down Jasper’s operation in one fell swoop. The Heavenly Host learned that long ago. So, thou shalt pick away at his empire one segment at a time.”
“Nibbling away like ducks,” Harek put in.
“Precisely,” Michael said. “Big, deadly nibbles. Thus it has always been, and thus it will always be so. The only way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time.”
“Call me dense, but what do all those animal metaphors mean?” Ivak asked. Since Louisiana was his territory, Ivak wanted his instructions to be clear. Besides, being in bayou country, wouldn’t an alligator be a better choice than an elephant?
“Idiot!” Mike muttered.
Harek raised a brow and said, “Is anyone else surprised at Ivak’s use of the word metaphor?” Betimes Ivak would like to stick Harek’s virtual Phi Beta Kappa key somewhere that would hurt.
Failing to notice the side play, Michael didn’t hesitate to explain in detail. “The Lord wants Dominique gone. Not just relocated to another territory. Not just killed to rise again. She must be annihilated and sent to Satan’s domain for eternity. Thus sayeth the Lord.”
All right. Ivak got it. Dominique’s heart must be speared with either a knife or a sword specially treated with the symbolic blood of Christ or the symbolic slivers of wood from the True Cross. Just “killing” her would not be enough. He nodded his understanding to Michael.
“Also, her building named Anguish in the Sin City must be destroyed. Razed to the ground. Excavated. Set afire. Does not matter how. Thou shalt remove the abomination.”
I can do that, Ivak thought, but it will be difficult when adjacent buildings are so close.
“I have confidence that you can handle the job,” Michael said.
Reading my mind again! Jeesh!
“And of course the Lucipires in and around Angola Prison must be destroyed,” Michael went on. “If they succeed there, Jasper will take that as incentive to expand to all other prisons around the world.”
Ivak’s head was beginning to spin with all that this mission would entail.
“You will not be alone,” Michael assured him. “All of the VIK will be there, and, let us say, one hundred vangels? That should be sufficient while not leaving us weak in other places.”
There were currently five hundred vangels of various ranks . . . jarls, karls, ceorls, and thralls. Large numbers of new vangels had been created in just the past few months.
“It will be as you wish,” Ivak told Michael.
“I am not done,” Michael said. “Someone in this room has been contemplating a grave sin.” His all-seeing eyes scanned each of them in turn.
Oh no! He knows that I am contemplating sex with Gabrielle. He felt his face heat with guilt.
But then Ivak peeked a glance around the room and saw that each of his brothers had similar blushes on their faces. ’Twould appear they were all guilty of some sin or other.
Michael chuckled in a “gotcha” manner.
That is just great! Now we are a source of amusement for an archangel. What next?
“Did you buy the property yet?”
Ivak’s head jerked up and he saw that Michael was addressing him.
Michael referred to Heaven’s End, of course.
“Not yet.” Ivak flushed some more. Apparently, he was still on the carpet. “I haven’t had time yet.”
“Make time.
”
Talk about blunt!
Ivak’s brothers did a communal eyebrow arching thing.
“It’s a plantation called Heaven’s End. A run-down plantation,” Ivak told them.
Vikar let out a hoot of laughter, understanding perfectly the job that Ivak would face in that regard. “I can give you advice on bat removal.”
“Hah! How about snake removal?”
“I like the name. Heaven’s End. Very appropriate,” Sigurd remarked, tongue firmly planted in his fangy cheek. Sigurd had no doubt cased out the place while in Louisiana and knew what condition it was in.
“Why is the name appropriate?” his brother Mordr wanted to know.
“What is the end of Heaven? Hell. You are a lackwit, Mordr.” This from Harek, who considered himself smarter than the rest of them. He was.
Mordr frowned. “Ivak is going to buy a place like Hell?”
“Yes, but he will turn it into Heaven,” Michael said. “Or rather a heavenly place.”
“I will?” Ivak said dumbly.
Michael nodded. “Just as Vikar has established a headquarters here in the Northeast, and Trond is living in California for the time being . . .”
Trond stiffened into attention at the words “for the time being.”
“ . . . Ivak will establish another headquarters in Louisiana.”
“How in God’s name will I be able to do that? I’m not a contractor. Nor am I a particularly good leader.”
“And you think I am?” Vikar snorted his opinion of Ivak’s lack of self-confidence.
“In God’s name,” Michael declared, repeating Ivak’s words back at him with disapproval, “you will learn the skills needed for the job. Besides, you will have many years to accomplish the task.”
Ivak’s shoulders slumped. Just as he’d thought, he would be in Louisiana and probably at the prison, as well, for many years to come. There went any chances he had for a future with Gabrielle. Not that there had been any before.
“Do not get ahead of yourself, Ivak. One step at a time,” Michael said, shaking his head at Ivak’s seeming hopelessness.
What did that mean? He had no chance to ask because the archangel had already moved on to other matters. “Where is my website, Harek?”
