Dark Angel's Ward

by Nia Shay

  "I don't care for that diminutive." He finally gave me a fleeting glance. "And yes, I remember you."

  I snorted. "Fondly, I see."

  Something stirred in the depths of those dark eyes. "You possess none of the qualities which inspire fondness in me," he said, taking a sudden step forward. His long legs brought him directly in front of me. Daunted, I fell back.

  Zeph promptly wedged himself into the space I'd vacated, shouldering me further back. I couldn't see his face, but the set of his posture screamed aggression. Damn it! He wasn't supposed to be acting like this.

  Ryphan smiled, a bland, empty nephilim smile that struck at odds with his last comment. "Your Warden has nothing to fear from me, brother. She's far too sullied to pique my interest."

  "Love you too," I snarled, though a frisson of fear slithered up my spine. Had I imagined the spark in his eye? Maybe he was just completely unaware of the limits of personal space, and hadn't been crowding me on purpose.

  But no sooner had I thought this than I heard that thin ringing in my ears again. This time, rather than seeing spots of swooning darkness, I found myself pinned by Ryphan's flat gaze. The ground seemed to shift under my feet, throwing me off balance, drawing me into his stare.

  Dark angel mojo! Hell, I should have realized the first time around. His psychic touch felt just as unsettling as it had been before, but thankfully also just as brief. I shook my head as he broke off the contact, as if I could banish the entire incident.

  Ryphan watched the motion with keen interest. One corner of his mouth twitched. Creepy bastard.

  My courage faltered under that cryptic stare, and I almost balked. In fact, I'd already grabbed Zeph's wrist to pull him back and tell him we were leaving when Ryphan spoke again. "Come, then. My home is open to you."

  "All of a sudden, huh?" I blurted, anger warming away the chill of fright.

  Neither of the men paid me the slightest attention. Zeph bowed again, turning his arm in my grasp so we held hands instead. "Our thanks."

  He started forward, but I planted my feet and brought him to a halt again. He turned to face me. Once Ryphan could see only the back of his head, he raised a questioning eyebrow. I couldn't think of any way to convey my worries, not if Ryphan could pick up on my thoughts. I could only shake my head a little.

  "Come along, Jandra," he said in dispassionate tones, though his eyes showed the concern his voice disowned. "You must rest. You are of little use to me in this state."

  I had to clench my free hand into a fist to keep myself from reacting that one, even though I knew he didn't mean it. "I am so gonna kick your ass later," I projected, not really caring if Ryphan overheard and misinterpreted. Out loud, I only said, "Whatever."

  "Come." He tugged me toward the door again. Sighing, I dropped my gaze and followed, hoping it seemed like a subservient gesture.

  Ryphan melted back into the doorway, his arm extended in what should have been a welcoming gesture. To me and my pride, it might as well have been a triple dog dare. I looked up again to glare at him. Then at Zeph--hell, I wasn't the one pretending to be emotionless.

  I held my head high as I marched past Ryphan, but I couldn't quite control an instinctive flinch away from him. He noticed. His eyes flashed again, and his lips parted slightly with a quick intake of breath. Definitely not my imagination, then.

  We stepped down into a sunken living room decorated in shades of blue and grey. Though the exterior of the house resembled a haphazard stack of boxes, the inner space was large and regularly shaped. "Please make yourselves comfortable," Ryphan said. "Do you require food or drink?"

  "Not at the moment, thank you," Zeph replied. "We need rest more than anything else."

  "Then I'll show you to a room. Or would you prefer two?"

  I opened my mouth to answer, but Zeph cut me off with a firm, "One." I raised my eyebrows at him. He didn't appear to notice.

  "Very well." Ryphan swept across the room to take the lead. "Come with me."

  We followed him in silence up a flight of steps and along a wide hallway. The house was utterly silent, showing no sign of any other inhabitants. Every door we passed was shut tight. Surely there had to be at least a few housekeepers to maintain a place of this size--dark angels weren't known for their domestic skills. Most daily chores fell to the Warden, but as far as I knew Ryphan didn't have a Warden, either. Weird. Maybe the staff's quarters were downstairs.

  Ryphan offered us a guest room twice the size of my living room at home. "I trust this will be adequate?"

  "Quite," Zeph answered before I had a chance. "Our thanks again."

  Ryphan inclined his head. "If you require anything, just use the telephone. My cook will prepare a meal for you at any hour." With a shallow bow, he stepped out.

  Zeph met my eyes and held a finger to his lips. After a long moment, he crossed the room and pushed the door shut. "Thank you for allowing me to speak for both of us," he said at last, still keeping his voice low.

  "Not like I had much choice," I muttered, sitting down on the bed to tug off my shoes.

  "I had thought it wiser to stay together. Don't you agree?"

  "Yes, yes. That's not what I'm worried about. Is it just me, or is Mr. Ryphan seriously weird?"

  He tilted his head thoughtfully. "His energy did seem strange to me, but I'm sure ours did to him, as well."

  "Yeah, I'm sure. So...he was checking us out, right? You noticed it too?"

  "Of course. And I did the same."

  Was I overreacting, then? Somehow I didn't think so. Zeph must have read it in my expression, for he laid a hand on my shoulder. "We can go elsewhere in the morning if you wish, but I don't think it would be wise to leave here tonight. You...."

  "Must rest," I finished in unison with him. "Fine, but that guy gives me the creeps."

  "He is unusual."

  "Glad I'm not the only one who noticed." I gazed up at him. "Do you really think it's safe here?"

  "Compared to our other options?" Bitterness tinged his half-smile. "Yes. It is safe enough for now."

  That didn't exactly reassure me, but I couldn't argue the logic of it, either. "I'm still freaked out that no one tried to follow us here," I added.

  "Let us be thankful for our good fortune."

  "Whatever." I stood up and stretched. "Well, I need to take a shower before we turn in for the night."

  He nodded. "Very well. I'll go back down for the bag."

  "Thanks."

  After he left the room, the eerie silence of the place struck me once more. If Ryphan hadn't mentioned his cook, I'd have been convinced by now there were only the three of us in the entire house. Soon to be the two of us, once Zeph made it downstairs and out to the car. Ugh. The thought of being alone with Captain Creepy Eyes made my skin crawl. I folded my arms around my body. Part of me wanted to follow Zeph, like a frightened child running after Daddy.

  I shook my head at the notion, disgusted with myself. I'd never had the luxury of doing that even when I'd been a child. I certainly wouldn't start now.

  Instead, I slipped through the door to the adjoining bathroom and forced myself to undress, despite the feeling of being watched. I cranked up the water as hot as it would go, but I didn't step into the green-tiled stall until the steam flooded the entire room. Just in case he had a video camera in the showerhead. What can I say? Paranoia's a hard habit to break.

  Nineteen

  Night had fallen by the time I emerged from my bath, wrapped in a thick white towel. I almost tripped over the overnight bag--Zeph had left it on the floor right outside the bathroom door. Several pieces of my clothing lay draped over the top of it, as if he'd tried to guess what I might want to wear but had given it up mid-task.

  Zeph himself sat on the edge of the bed, his bare back hunched in a weary posture. The two long scars stood out clearly in the uncertain light from the bedside lamp, like twin shadows against the pallor of his skin. I glided toward the bed, unable to take my eyes off of them.

  "J
andra," he murmured, glancing back.

  "Ssh."

  "What's the matter?" He frowned, shifting to turn toward me.

  "Sit still," I commanded.

  He froze obediently, and I knelt on the mattress behind him. I leaned in to examine his back more closely than I had in ages. The grooves ran practically the length of his torso, ending just under the lowest ribs. They were deep and irregular, with ragged edges that suggested a cruel tearing of flesh more than anything done precisely with a scalpel. Near each shoulder blade was a round indentation I could sink my finger into up to the first knuckle--the empty sockets of what had once been rotating joints.

  "Ryphan doesn't have wings, either," I mused aloud.

  Zeph shook his head minutely. "I believe we all underwent the procedure around the same time."

  The procedure. I knew without asking that the Society had come up with that lovely euphemism, but the shock of agony we'd shared in his memory hadn't been the result of any medical operation. It had been torture, plain and simple. He must have been awake the entire time. God, no wonder he was so screwed up.

  I startled as a drop of wetness splashed onto my bare leg. I hadn't even felt the tears running down my face. "Why?" I asked him in a pained whisper. "Why did they do this to you?"

  "Inconsequen--"

  "Don't say that! It does matter, damn it. They swore to protect you, and this is how they do it? I don't think so. It's wrong, Zeph, and you know it as well as I do."

  "It is decades in the past, Jandra."

  "Shut up. Please? Just don't say another word." I wrapped my arms around his waist and held on, rocking us both gently as I laid my damp cheek against his shoulder. He stiffened for an instant at the contact. Then his arms slowly encircled mine, as if he expected me to pull away from him at any moment. I didn't. I turned my head a little to brush a soft kiss over the uppermost ridge of scar tissue.

  He gasped, a shudder running through him. "Jandra...."

  "Ssh."

  Now I did slide my arms away from his, but only to bring them around to his back again. I worked from top to bottom, left to right, exploring the savage marks with my fingers and lips. Where cruelty had touched him, I gave him tenderness. Where pain had rent his skin, I painted it with pleasure. I told him with touch all the things I hadn't been able to say with words. And he felt it all--I could sense it in the uneven rhythm of his breathing, the fine trembling of his muscles.

  When I straightened, he half turned toward me, planting one hand behind me for support. His eyes were a riot of color. My gaze slid away from them, down to his lips, which were parted slightly. "Zeph," I murmured.

  He didn't answer. He didn't say anything at all. He just leaned down until his chin nearly rested on his shoulder, until I could feel his breath on my face. He gave me an eternity to stop him, to turn away. I waited, but still he hesitated an inch from my lips.

  I almost wished I could dredge up the same amount of reluctance I'd felt last night, when he'd hung back during his feeding. But I couldn't lie to myself. I wanted his kiss, and it seemed the ball was once again in my court.

  Clutching his right shoulder with one hand and his taut arm with the other, I rose up to close the distance between us. He moaned, his lips moving softly against mine. He started to raise his free hand to touch me, but the motion of his shoulder made me wobble, and he stopped. "Jandra," he whispered. "Let me...."

  "Don't talk. Just kiss."

  I didn't have to ask twice. His lips grew firm against mine, almost frantic, as if he were desperate to possess me with the only touch our pose allowed him. Despite his enjoyment, I could also sense his growing frustration at being pinned in place.

  I couldn't help taking a little perverse pleasure in it. I leaned into his back, bringing the front of my body flush against him. Reminding him that I'd started this, and I was the one in control here.

  "Jandra." His breath cooled my damp lips. I didn't answer him. I just kept kissing. When his trembling had begun to shake us both, he broke away with a gasp. "Please. I want to hold you."

  Yeah, I wanted it too, almost as much I wanted my next breath. A slow fire had started in my veins, threatening to sweep me away into inferno. I'd been without his touch for so long, and I'd locked my yearnings away so deeply I hadn't even realized how much I'd missed this. Missed him. My Zeph.

  Shit. Those were dangerous thoughts. I sat back on my heels, but I didn't give him enough room to turn around. Not yet. Instead I reached up and began to massage his shoulders. "Did I give you a crick in the neck? I'm sorry."

  "No. You didn't." He didn't fight me as I continued to rub. He just slumped forward in a resigned sort of relaxation. Besides, he was still enjoying himself. His muscles rolled under my fingers with the rippling grace of a cat's.

  "Tell me you love me," I said after a while.

  He flinched. "Why?"

  "Because I want to hear you say it."

  "You won't get angry again?"

  I frowned. "I asked you to, didn't I?"

  "Yes." He snuck a glance at me from the corner of his eye. "But I don't want you to believe I've coerced you into the way you're feeling right now."

  "Oh." My hands went still on his shoulders. "I suppose that makes sense."

  He sighed. "I'm sorry if it upsets you, but it's for the best. I can't trust my voice or my words in this matter." He looked back at me again. A faint glimmer had rekindled in his eyes. "If you wish to know my feelings, I would rather show you."

  A wave of pure anticipation tingled through my body. "Tell me," I repeated in a husky whisper, "and then you can show me."

  "Very well." He squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. When he spoke again, his tone was carefully flat. "I love you, Jandra Maxwell. With everything within me, I love you. I live by your grace and would gladly die at your command."

  I guess I'd been hoping those words would frighten me less with his kiss fresh on my lips. No such luck. Still, he'd done as I asked, so I did as I'd intended. I sat back completely and scooted to the middle of the bed.

  He turned on me with the eerie quickness that usually preceded the need for a brain drain. But for the first time since he'd walked back into my life, his azoth sat at a steady level. I knew it instinctively, but still I probed at our psychic link for confirmation. Good. Maybe we'd gotten at least one problem under control.

  Though the expression on Zeph's face suggested anything but control. He looked at me like a drowning man looks at a shoreline he knows he'll never have the strength to reach. The intensity of his gaze forced a small noise from my throat. I reached out a tentative hand to him.

  "I want more than a kiss from you, Jandra," he warned me, sitting still as death. Only his eyes moved, roving up and down the length of my towel-clad body.

  "I know." I stretched out my other arm, offering him an embrace. "Come."

  He let out a long breath, shifting to half kneel, half lay alongside me. He swept me into his arms, but to my surprise, he didn't claim my mouth again. Instead, he pinned me with a serious look. "Forgive me."

  "For everything?" I blinked, taken aback. "I'm...not sure I can do that yet." Sensing his dismay, I added, "I don't even understand it all yet. Can you honestly say you do?"

  His shoulders slumped. "No. I suppose not."

  I leaned up to place a kiss on the corner of his jaw. "It doesn't have to be perfect, Zeph. Not right away. It looks like we're going to be spending a lot of time together from now on--we'll work it all out eventually."

  "Will we?"

  I shrugged. "Well, we'd better. All this angst-ridden bitchiness even starts to wear on me after a while."

  "Don't belittle yourself, Jandra." His expression softening, he leaned in again. "You're perfect just as you are."

  "Hardly." Did those words sound oddly familiar? Hmm. "But thanks for saying so, anyway."

  "I mean it."

  His lips pressed mine gently, so gently. He swallowed my sigh of pleasure. I brought up a hand to stroke the midnight sil
k of his hair, the nape of his neck. I trailed the other hand along his back, fascinated by the alternating textures of his flesh, the pure and the defiled. I vowed to myself that someone would pay for what had been done to him.

  "Don't think such things now," he murmured. "Please, just be with me."

  "Yes, dear."

  I parted my lips for him this time as he kissed me again. His astonishment rippled through me, and I laughed a little down in my throat. Giggles turned to groans, though, as his tongue slid past my lips to caress mine. I'd forgotten how good he tasted, like honeyed apples, like all things sweet and intoxicating. The sensual friction tightened my abdomen, made me ache for every other pleasure I knew he could give me.

  Suddenly the damp terry cloth felt like sandpaper against my sensitized skin. I slid a hand in between us to pull the towel loose, but he caught my wrist. "Only if you're certain," he whispered raggedly.

  I bit back a growl of frustration. "Don't I feel certain?"

  I'd meant for him to touch my mind, but instead he pressed his free hand into the small of my back, bringing my body flush against his. I don't know what he felt, but I felt his certainty plain as day, straining against the curve of my thigh. Heat tore through me, pooling low in my belly.

  Zeph's eyes fluttered closed for a moment. When they opened again, they were megawatts brighter than they'd been before. He captured my other wrist in a decisive grip and shifted, bringing us up onto our knees. The difference in our heights was less like this--my head actually reached his shoulder rather than the middle of his chest. I tipped my head back and gazed up at him. We stayed like that for a long moment, as if neither of us could bring ourselves to make the first move.

  "If you're certain," he repeated.

  I didn't bother with words this time. I slipped free of his grasp and turned the tables on him, bringing his hands to the tucked edge of the towel. Finally, he tugged it open and let it fall away behind me.

  "Oh, my Jandra." His fingers splayed over the bare skin of my shoulders. He lowered his head to my neck and kissed the tender, bruised skin, now free of its bandage. The wound had closed and all but disappeared, but still the pressure of his lips made me ache and tingle all at once. I arched against him, shivering.