by Michele Hauf
Except whatever was going on in the warehouse across the street right now didn’t sound, or look, like day-saving.
Zane was in there, and that made me antsy. I didn’t want him to get hurt. I doubted the angel would leave him scarred this time around. No, the Fallen was out for blood after we’d stolen his halo.
Halos were supposed to hold the Fallen’s earthbound soul. The angel could take that soul and become mortal. But Granny told us most Fallen didn’t want to go with a pitiful human existence and eventually die a mortal death. They preferred to remain something more than mortal—and to go after their muses as their twisted libidos demanded.
Things crashed, maybe boards, windows and interior walls. Every so often a brilliant flash of blue would mimic the glow of the halo I held. A man cried out in pain—Zane. I’d developed a twitch, wanting to rush in every time I heard his miserable shouts.
Like that would do any good. Go, super travel-agent lady! Not to be. Actually, my middle name is Marie, not Adventure.
Squatting against the wall, I huddled, protecting the halo between my legs and chest, and kept one eye on the second-floor window. Had something just been thrown across the room? Something man-sized?
I ducked my head against my knees.
“Don’t look, Coco. He’ll be fine. He said he had a good chance now the angel had been disarmed.”
Clicky footsteps set up the hairs on my arms. I recognized the pitter-pat of high heels. One person. Coming up around the corner from where I sat.
I swung up and almost did a chest bump with the woman who was preoccupied with scratching her wrist. A wrist that glowed blue.
“I don’t know what it is,” she muttered, boggled and obviously more worried about the glowing sigil than a complete stranger who bowed over her wrist to inspect. “It’s always been there, but it just started to glow. It’s like some kind of alien implant. Oh, my bloody hell!”
“Don’t worry.” I cringed. Not the truth, Coco. But I needed to calm her, and make sure no one nearby—like the Fallen—saw her.
I walked her back around the corner and hugged her. She allowed it. I sensed she was in shock for she shivered minutely. “It’s an angel sigil,” I said. “You were born with it, right?”
She nodded. Wisps of blond hair that had dried about her hairline teased the air. The rain had stopped, but it was dark, murky and more humid than a steam room.
“It’s very pretty.” I traced the square shape that had a triangle in the middle. I hadn’t seen the Fallen’s sigil, but I knew that this muse matched the angel Zane was fighting. That’s the only reason it would glow. “And it itches?”
She nodded again. Her skin was red and I worried she’d tear it with those press-on nails. “Stop.” Itching turned the sigil into a beacon the angel could follow right to the muse. I clasped both hands about her wrist. “I’ll explain things. You won’t like what I have to say, but you need the information.”
“Sure, whatever, lady. Wait.”
We both studied her inflamed skin, the sigil now a soft brown against the redness where she’d scratched. It had stopped glowing. I cast a glance over my shoulder. Darkness in the second-floor window.
Had Zane accomplished the task?
Or would the muse and I be dodging a furious angel intent on claiming the halo and his muse?
I strung the halo on a forearm, and then sheltered the woman from whatever might come our way.
The air glimmered before me. I staggered, bloody blade held back and out with one hand. The cuts on my body hurt like hell, and the blood drooling out soaked me in crimson. Those damned iron wings had been sharp.
Had been. Heh.
The angel’s body burst into a brilliant nimbus and shattered. A glamorous wall of sparkly bits hung suspended before me momentarily. The wings dropped in flakes of black iron, the crystallized body fell in a man-length pile of ash before my feet.
This is what I’d been stalking the streets for tonight. What I’d been striving for over the months since witnessing the Anakim tribe’s macabre machinations.
And yet, I looked over my shoulder, out the window, but could not see street level. Did she wait for me? Didn’t the hero deserve a kiss? Or had Coco wisely fled?
For a moment of utter wimpy wistfulness, I thought I saw her bright brown eyes flash at me. And then I blinked, and the sexy princess turned cat burglar was running toward me. Her eyes weren’t as happy to see me as I’d hoped, rather wide and unbelieving, actually.
She deftly avoided the angel ash and slammed into me, setting me off balance, so I clung to her. Every cut on my skin screamed. My right leg, which I’m sure was broken, buckled. I went down, and she fell with me, until we kneeled before each other, embracing.
I buried my face in her hair. Rain-fresh summers and the sensual heat of her skin chased back the pain. Chocolate heartbeats pulsed against my chest.
She clasped my head and whispered something that sounded like, “I’m so glad you’re alive.”
No one had ever been glad that my heart beat. People usually ran when they saw me coming. Coat me in a quart of my own blood, and I’d really send them running.
Yet Coco clung as if she had found something long-ago lost. And I felt a piece being fit into some greater scene. Her life. My life. We fit together oddly enough.
Damn, I wanted to make this work. Could the pieces stay together?
“I’m getting blood all over you, love. Purple, even. Guess the angel blood mixed with my own.”
“I don’t care.” She wouldn’t let go.
Fine with me. Her warmth worked a balm to my wounds, and I could feel the skin knit closed, healing rapidly as vampires are wont. It sizzled a bit. Might have gotten traces of angel blood in my system, but I didn’t feel the big kaboom looming.
“I talked to the angel’s muse outside.”
“What? His muse? Was here?”
“Yes, walking by. Must be why the angel was in the area—he followed the lure of her sigil. She was itching it like a crazy lady. I told her everything, and gave her my sister’s phone number. I explained she’s still not safe even though this Fallen is dead. He is dead, right?”
I toed the crystal dust. “That’s about as dead as dead gets. Two muses in close proximity? London is overflowing with them.”
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Works for me. But first—” I tugged out the folded plastic zip bag I kept tucked in a back pocket and handed it to Coco “—hold this. I’m not leaving without what I’ve come for.”
I scooped up the heavy, glittering angel remnants into the bag. It looked like diamonds, and had the weight of precious gemstones, but held no value for any person unless they were tracking a Nephilim.
“That stuff is gorgeous,” she said. “What is it?”
“Angel ash. The only means to kill a Nephilim.”
“You plan on killing Nephilim? I thought you wanted to prevent Nephilim from being conceived?”
“I do, but I can’t be in all places at once. And I’m no professional angel slayer. Tonight was a fluke. I only won because I had this.” I patted the blade at my hip. It had been my first angel-slaying mission. “And the Anakim tribe is huge. I can’t stop them from trying to create a Nephilim. This stuff is like an insurance policy. It can be doled out to all who may need it.”
“Like my sister?”
“It’ll prove a might more effective than the halo, I’ll wager.”
I shoved the last bit of ash in the bag and followed Coco’s fingers as we sealed the zip bag. I admired her enthusiasm, yet knew her real feelings were darker than the positive front she wore. Her sister would ever be in danger. There were dozens of Fallen, and the Anakim were summoning more to earth daily. The only thing that could kill them was a demon blade like I owned, or a real Sinistari demon, of which there were only about a dozen.
The future looked bleak. But I wanted to be a part of the solution. I couldn’t do it myself. But I didn’t want to endanger this precious wo
man.
“What’s this?” She collected the black feather that had been uncovered beneath the ash. A splay of her fingers moved the delicate vanes. “It’s made of iron? And yet it’s soft as down.”
“When an angel dies one single feather remains. The Sinistari collect them as war prizes. You take it, love. Stick it in your hair.”
She did, and the thing almost looked glamorous, if the fact wasn’t that it had come from a murderous angel who’d Fallen to earth intent on screwing mortal women.
“You should go,” I said, standing and shaking out my broken leg. “Sun’s soon up.”
“You need to avoid it more than I do. Will you walk me home?” she inquired innocently. But her tone offered a promise of something much more than urgent kisses and groping.
I chuckled. “Are you making a pass at me, love?”
“Well, you did imply that we would finish what we had started after we took care of the big bad.” She splayed a hand over the glittering remains of the angel. “Big bad defeated.”
I’d never seen the lash-fluttering move utilized so skillfully. I could taste her sweetness on my tongue. And I wanted to feel the air she moved with her lashes against my lips.
“Can you walk?”
“In a few minutes. Just need to give it a bit to heal.”
“Maybe this will help.”
Truly, her kisses could be bottled and sold as medical aid. Coco’s mouth against mine chased off the pain and the horror of standing before the Fallen and ramming the blade up into its chest. The agony I’d witnessed cross its kaleidoscope eyes had momentarily made me question my goal. Who was I—a true bloodsucking monster—to judge yet another monster? All of it was now obliterated by Coco’s kiss.
Encircled in her arms, I began to drown, sinking deeper into a bright and wondrous abyss. Not a monster.
And I began to believe it.
I stepped onto my right foot and tested the leg. Healed. “You’re good for me, love. Those kisses of yours are wicked powerful.”
“Come on.” She grabbed my arm, and I followed her dash through the warehouse. “We have to beat the sun. My flat is a good jog away.”
I didn’t protest. In fact, I clasped her hand in mine and tugged her into the shadows, hugging the building walls, yet keeping up the race against the sun.
Chapter Seven
Clothing fell about our feet. I turned and wiggled my shoulders while Zane tugged at the corset strings crisscrossing down my back. The sun brightened the world outside, but I’d hastily pulled the curtains and Zane helped me throw a blanket over the pale bedroom sheers to darken the room.
The stiff corset loosened and fell. Zane’s hands eased along my spine, massaging.
“How’d you know I needed that?” I asked, but the question ended in a satisfied moan.
“You’ve marks on your pretty flesh, love. Let me kiss them away.”
His hot mouth touched me there, where the corset had imprisoned me, and there, soft and tender, a dash of his tongue easing away the aches. A tickle and then the sizzle as our body heat combined in a wicked dance.
I gasped as his hands glided down my hips and his kisses moved to the top of my derriere. There he licked a zigzagging line over my skin, burning his mark into me.
I reached back, slipping my fingers into his spiky hair, unable to ask for what I wanted, and surrendering to the devastating touches.
“Turn about, love.”
He knelt before me, shirt off, and exposed abs and delts that required merciless licking and maybe even a few love nips. I was naked, and had never stood so boldly before a man on his knees before. I wanted to clasp my arms across my breasts.
And then I wanted to be worshipped by the twinkle in his deep blue eyes.
Tossing back my head, I closed my eyes to the first touch of his tongue to my mons. He glided along the V of my thigh and down to tease at my humming center. One hot stroke sent my body to a delicious shiver.
I raked my fingers through his hair and he rose to lift me and lay me on the bed, stretching my arms above my head and across the sheets as my hips rose to his ministrations. Oh, sweet mercy, he could have me in mind, body and soul.
And yes, even blood.
Coco’s skin was like silk and had the fine color of milk chocolate warmed by the sun. The closest I’d ever get to the sun, surely. I could worship her endlessly, gliding my skin against hers and reacting to her subtle movements and pleading moans.
She wanted it all. And I wasn’t about to deny her.
Finding my place, a finger against her nub, and trailing my tongue up her stomach, I suckled at each hard nipple, tendering the velvety flesh slowly, prolonging the raging climax I could sense building in her sleek body.
Her muscles tightened and flexed beneath my roaming hands. Her hips nudged mine, the contact rubbing her powder-silken skin against my harder-than-marble erection.
If ever a monster could be worthy of love, then I wanted that chance. In this woman’s arms. In her heart. Hell, I wanted to enter her very soul.
“Please,” she begged. “Come inside me now, Zane. Give yourself to me.”
Sweet mercy, the power of her persuasion mastered me.
I hilted myself inside her and we both came at the same time, crying out, clutching one another and clinging out of desperation and, at the same time, joy. Skin crushed to skin, sighs harmonizing, we became one another. We spoke a silent promise.
Muscles tensing and releasing with climax I bowed my head to her breast, grazing my fangs, which always came down during sex, along her moist skin.
“Yes,” she gasped, curling her fingers about my skull. “Bite me again, lover.”
This time I pricked her shallowly, fully aware I still pricked her deeply with my cock, and the intense orgasm reignited as her chocolate blood melted on my tongue. It deepened her pleasure, too, bringing up the giddy she’d flirtatiously asked for before. This was the soul-claiming part. And together we dove into the beginning of what felt like love.
“You’re mine, love,” I whispered.
“The ninja vampire’s girl.” Shuddering with traces of orgasm, she sighed and kissed my shoulder. “I like the sound of that.”
I chuckled against her breast. “Works for me.”
ISBN: 978-1-4592-0952-7
ASHES OF ANGELS
Copyright © 2011 by Michele Hauf
THE NINJA VAMPIRE’S GIRL
First Published in ebook form by Harlequin Nocturne Bites Copyright © 2010 by Michele Hauf
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*Bewitching the Dark
†Wicked Games
**Of Angels and Demons
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