Broken Halo: Fallen Angels Trilogy, Book One

by Marcel, Zoey

  Once his faint breathing returned to normal, he studied her quietly for a minute. “You have come to me.”

  Quite obviously, Sonya thought to herself, though she kept her sarcasm inside.

  The cold touch of his palm fondling her face was foreign, but sweet. “You have returned to me as an angel, my darling Hannah.”

  Her eyes widened, realizing that because she allowed him to see her that included her enormous, white angel wings. “Sir, you...”

  “I what, my dear?”

  “You are dreaming.” Sonya cringed the instant she finished speaking. She told a lie. She interfered with one of God's precious gifts to mankind: freewill. It was pure stupidity that the man had been willing to throw such a priceless treasure away, but desperation to reunite with his deceased wife and loneliness had driven him to take such drastic measures.

  Guardians were sent to protect people from harm, but they were not to interfere with mankind's freewill, nor force them into a decision that wasn't theirs.

  Something dark flickered in his eyes. “You lie, Hannah. Angels don't lie. My little wife is a she-devil.”

  She smacked his reaching hand away. “I am not a she-devil, or anything of the sort and I will thank you not to use the title.”

  He smiled fondly at her. “My feisty bride, you saved my life, darling, and my soul.”

  She pulled her hand away from his before his words finally registered. “What did you say?”

  The way his index finger traced delicate, invisible lines down her tan arm was captivating. Something was different about him, but she couldn't explain it. There was a hint of danger in the air, darkness in his eyes and in his voice that oozed sex appeal in the deafening silence; yet left her unsettled for some reason.

  “Yes, my love. You have come back to life to be with me as an angel and now I know there is such a thing as the afterlife and God.”

  “Jude, that is wonderful.”

  “It is.”

  She panicked slightly when he leaned in toward her. “What are you doing?”

  “Kissing my wife, is there a problem with that?” The sharpness in his final sentence was out of character, but she found it rather titillating to be put in her place by a man, which was rather humorous considering he was the one out of line at present.

  “Yes, I mean no, when it is your wife...if I were. I have to leave the room for a minute.” She was shocked when her eyes fell into his lap and took in the size of his erection. It was much bigger than she recalled having seen all the times before when he slept with Hannah. Why was the fool even erect at all? They were discussing spiritual matters, not intercourse. Was he secretly some sort of irreverent pervert?

  His arm snaked around her body faster than she could think and pulled her closer as he scooted on his knees to be nearer her. Their kneecaps were touching. “Kiss me, Hannah.”

  “Oh.” She swallowed, “I don't think I should.”

  “You are my bride, Hannah.”

  “Your bride had blonde hair. Mine is black.”

  He smiled. “It looks blonde to me.”

  He had to be drunk, or insane. “What color are my eyes?”

  “Blue, my dear, as they have always been.”

  “My eyes are dark brown, Jude. You must be drunk. I have to leave.”

  The hand that wasn't around her back locked her wrists together in that single grip. His snug grasp said: “I will hurt you if I have to,” but his tender octave said: “I care about you.” What a conflicting union of emotions and mixed signals coming from one source.

  “Don't go, Hannah. I'm hopeless without you.”

  “But there are children who -”

  “Yes, so many children we shall have together, but to do so I must impregnate you first. I would very much like to be a father.” He placed a cool palm on her belly and rubbed in gentle, rhythmic circles, “You will help me with that, won't you?”

  Her pulse quickened. Oh, this was bad, not that she was considering, but she worried for his safety and sanity if she left him and still couldn't get past the fact that she had lied and denied him a choice in deciding his own future. “Jude, I'm not Hannah. I have to leave. I'm so sorry for your loss, but -”

  He cupped her face in his palms. “You are my Hannah, because if you weren't and you left me again, I would take my life. This I swear to you, darling.”

  Sonya was astounded at the confession that almost sounded like a threat. It was difficult to think, let alone respond verbally in the wake of his feather-light, teasing kisses on her forehead and eyelids. His lips were cold and soft like a nocturnal flower budding in a moonlit garden.

  His cupped hands on her cheeks were like blinders keeping her focus on him. The firm pressure he used to keep her wandering head focused straight ahead so he could execute his will on her made her feel a bit like a horse being controlled by its master.

  “Say it. Say you are my Hannah. I need you to save my life tonight, my soul. Don't let me die by my own hand. Say it,” he growled. His steamy whispers had given way to a dark command that sounded dreadfully predatory.

  Jude was likely drunk and lonely. She had no doubt he would commit suicide if she left and he truly believed she was his wife raised from the dead to come back to him again. It was a sweet fantasy of his, but Sonya found it incredibly depressing the way he rejected reality and inserted his own in order to make sense of everything. She despised deception, but more than this, she would forever hate herself for having walked away from him when she could have saved him.

  “I'm your Hannah,” she whispered, startled by the dark, almost spiritual seriousness of the act. Likely only psychological; she was winning his soul, not losing hers.

  The Arctic gust of his oral exhale bathed her lips with an icy fire that smelled of mint and psychologically, her downfall. It was just a kiss, they weren't going to fornicate. She would stop it, but she must get him to go to sleep and stay with him at least for tonight, so he didn't kill himself in her absence. Hopefully, by morning she would figure out what to do about this mess she had made for herself and him.

  A chilly, slick instrument that felt remarkably similar to a melting icicle traced the outline and curve of first her upper and then her lower lip.

  “Kiss me,” he whispered.

  His breathy plea excited her. Curiosity and the need to save him urged her lips to slowly part for his. Their lips molded and rolled on one another in an erotic merging she had no intention of letting their bodies emulate beneath the sheets of his large bed. The tips of their tongues touched in meeting, his frozen and hers warm. They shared the same breaths in the mere centimeters between them and allowed their primal instincts to take the lead in that kiss. The way their tongues tangled and came together for the intimate union was tender, passionate and mind-blowing. So this was what a kiss felt like. Nimbus had been right. It was hot and wet. Granted Jude's mouth felt cold and hers was warm, but the combination created an amazing hot and cold sensation in her mouth that was to die for.

  A sudden stab of guilt pierced her conscience like a convicting sword and demanded she pull away from the tempter's mouth.

  Jude's hands lowered to her arms and held her near him. His breathless whisper did wicked things to her libido. “Don't fight this. You can't. You are mine. In your heart you have already slept with me, haven't you?”

  Her eyes dropped in shame. She had fought against her forbidden desires tonight only enough to keep any fantasies at bay, but she couldn't fight the impact his kiss and touch were having on her body.

  “There is nothing wrong with this, Hannah. We are married after all. Why do you hesitate?”

  “I'm not really Hannah.”

  “Then this is a dream. Even if you have only come to me in my sleep, it is enough, Hannah. Kiss me. Let me at least know I can have you if only in my dreams. Otherwise what else is there to live for? God sent you to me to give me peace.”

  She had come of her own volition and against her mission, but it did seem rather providenti
al the way she came across him in the clutches of suicide and was bringing him comfort in his darkest hour.

  “Kiss me, Hannah. I see God in you. Let me come to the light as you are. Let us celebrate my salvation.” Jude didn't wait for permission. He enveloped her mouth in a cool, spearmint kiss that soon became a fiery bath of peppermint that washed her mouth in sexual splendor. The slow, tender kiss was binding and erotic.

  Sonya could feel her senses throwing down their armor as her mouth moved with his in a trusting, forbidden union that didn't seem as lethal as her conscience claimed it was.

  “Say your body is mine,” he murmured in between kisses.

  “My body is yours.” She wouldn't sleep with him, but perhaps kissing would be enough to bring him comfort if he thought she was Hannah and he was dreaming.

  “Say my name.”

  “Jude.”

  He massaged her breasts, making her gasp at the rush of heat that swept through her. Her nipples puckered and she felt her areolas crinkle beneath his cool touch. His skin felt significantly warmer now. She was still clothed and he was fondling her bosom through the fabric, not engaging in intercourse, so perhaps she would be forgiven for a harmless kiss and brief pawing since she saved the man's life and ultimately converted him, because he believed his wife to be resurrected.

  “Say your soul belongs to me,” his voice grew darker now, huskier.

  Sonya gasped when his palm slid into the neckline of her dress and cupped her tit. Tiny sparks of electricity shot off in her body, settling in her nether region. She tried to pull his hand out, but he kept it there. Odd that she was suddenly weaker than a man. Angels were stronger than humans, yet she couldn't overpower him. Perhaps she didn't want to badly enough.

  “Don't!” Why did the command sound so much like a plea for mercy on her lust-inflicted state?

  His smile seemed ambiguous as he fondled her breast in a most pleasing manner. She couldn't tell if his lips betrayed sinister motives, or merely how aroused he was by her awakening.

  “Does that feel good, Hannah?” He cooed softly.

  It did, but she had to get out of there. It startled her how strong he was. Something was wrong.

  His lips left a trail of kisses along her neck and licked her back into the misguided belief that this was right. “Say your soul is mine and I will stop.”

  Sonya gasped when he tugged the front of her dress down, exposing her breasts. “Jude, stop!”

  She had never harmed a human being, but was fully prepared to take him down if he continued his mind-numbing assault on her body. His death-grip curtailed her struggles and she became frustrated that truth was somehow being thwarted. A man shouldn't be stronger than an angel. Was she getting weaker, or was he getting stronger? And how the blazes was that possible?

  “Say it,” Jude growled against her breast tissue before sucking her tit into his mouth.

  She mewled with delight as her body bowed and she arched into his greedy mouth. Her fingers splayed in his hair while he suckled her. How soft it felt. “My soul is yours.”

  It was a creepy thing to say, but he thought she was his wife, so between spouses it would be a romantic utterance.

  He slid the hand that wasn't around her back under her dress and skimmed her slick folds with his fingers.

  She squealed in alarm and wanton need. “Jude, stop!”

  “Say precisely what I told you to say and this stops,” his tone reeked of danger and aggravation.

  She whimpered helplessly when he teased her swollen clitoris. Half of her wanted him to stop, but curiosity and lust wanted desperately to know what an orgasm felt like. Self control won out, but it proved a double-edged sword. “My soul is yours.”

  “Say my name, Sonya,” Jude commanded while he laved her breasts with his tongue.

  The tingly fire of pleasure only heightened when he rubbed her clit faster. God this felt so good. She had a feeling she would finish from the stimulation. “My soul is yours, Jude.”

  As promised, he stopped and Sonya pulled her bodice back up to cover her bosom. She scrambled to her feet, quivering with shock and sexual awareness. It suddenly occurred to her that he used her real name while he was touching her a few seconds ago. It had to have been her imagination. “What did you call me a little bit ago?”

  There was a serpent-like quality in his hushed response. “Sonya.”

  A chill of fear raced up her spine and her scalp crawled with horror. That man could not be Jude Hemingway. “How did you know my name?”

  Jude stood and her nervousness only multiplied. “I know everything about you. Are you afraid?”

  She shivered. She was, but why should she be when she had God on her side? Unless... “What are you?”

  He stalked toward her, closing the protective distance between them. “Back when I was angelic I was one of the archangels.”

  She backed away slowly. “Nimbus?”

  “No, Jude.”

  She gaped at him. “That is impossible. I would have recognized a demon presence, even if it possessed a human body.”

  “Except I'm not entirely a demon, I'm a soul devourer.” He shoved her against the wall when she tried to flee, “What people would call a soul vampire. Surely you have heard of my kind?”

  Sonya swallowed. The atmosphere felt depraved and godless. He wasn't here. She couldn't feel his presence. Had he left her when she verbally gave her soul to ... “Yes, I have heard of your breed. Is that why you wanted my soul – to feed off of?”

  “Partly, that and no angel will come to the rescue of a fallen angel. And anyone who willingly gives their soul to a demonic being is fallen, aren't they, Sonya?”

  Raw fear and desolation overwhelmed her. “Oh, my god, what have I done? You tricked me.”

  He smirked at this as he ran a strand of her black hair between his fingers. “What did you expect a diabolical entity to do?”

  “What did you do to Jude Hemingway?”

  “I smothered the drunk with a pillow. He was dead before you got here. Convenient how my new body's previous owner was also named Jude. It will be less confusing that way to keep the same name.”

  Her eyes watered in sorrow and fright. “You killed him?”

  Jude wrapped a hand around the base of her throat. He applied little pressure; merely let his hand rest there to enlighten her of the magnitude of his power over her now. “Why do you sound so surprised? You shouldn't be. Killing him was merciful compared to what I intend to do with you.”

  Whatever his plans were, they weren't happening. Sonya kneed him in the groin and darted out of the bedroom. He tackled her and they tumbled down the staircase together, landing in a tangled heap at the bottom. She tried to shake the dizzy spell off and fight Jude who was now on top of her. She punched his face and shoved him, only to be flipped over onto her stomach.

  “Is that any way to greet an old friend, Sonya?” He sneered, using his weight to hold her down.

  Sonya felt his hands on her left wing and heard a crunch as excruciating pain flared in her appendage. She screamed, unable to believe he just broke one of her wings, inhibiting her ability to fly. Tremendous fury almost as intense as the throbbing burn of pain in her broken wing, gave her a brief renewal of strength. She rammed her head back into his face enough to get him off of her. She slammed him against the wall intending to finish what she started, when she was struck in the back of the head from behind. Everything went black as she fell to the floor.

  Chapter Three

  Broken Wings

  Nimbus was strolling through a London alley when he sensed a presence he hadn't felt in a while. “I know you are there, Cassiel. Why are you following me?”

  He heard the sound of metal scraping against the sheath it was being extracted from and turned to see the archangel several feet behind him with a sword drawn.

  “You can't send me before my time,” Nimbus taunted.

  “True, but no one ever said anything about hurting you,” Cassiel returned.

>   “Now why would you want to do a thing like that?” He knew damned well why, but kindling Cassiel's anger proved entertaining.

  “You corrupted Sonya,” he practically shouted.

  Nimbus grinned. “I haven't corrupted her...yet.”

  Cassiel advanced and Nimbus drew his own sword. Metal clanged against metal as they dueled, though both knew the battle would not end in death since they were forbidden to kill the other. Regardless, there was a stark need for blood, even if it could only be attained through wounding their opponent.

  “I wonder that you blame me for Sonya's downfall when the decision was hers,” Nimbus said, dodging the advancing blade that nearly scraped his head.

  “You tricked her!”

  “Jude tricked her. I had nothing to do with it.”

  Cassiel rammed his sword against his. “You lie! You were the one who encouraged him to do so, because you knew she would recognize your presence, but not his since she had never encountered him in his vampire form.”

  Nimbus shoved his blade into Cassiel's sword, both pushing against the colliding metal. “The ability of soul devourers to hide behind their victim's soul and blind the naive is a remarkable fortune.”

  “If you defile her I will kill you. Angels and demons are not allowed to mate.”

  “Lucky for me she is a fallen angel now.”

  Cassiel shoved him and they were clanging swords again. “I know Sonya. Her betrayal was a mistake. She will regret her actions.”

  “Oh, she will indeed regret them, but not in the way you think. Are you hoping she crawls on her hands and knees and begs forgiveness? Do you think there is still enough goodness in her to repent of her sins and be made a crusnik? Will you train her to slay vampires, Cassiel?” Nimbus taunted with glee.

  “She may be a fallen angel now, but she is not a demon like you. Even in her weakened state she will never join you.”

  He smiled at this. “But without any divine influence how will she stand? Do you think I am unaware that you were the one to stop her from leaving that day? Demornae saw you hold Sonya back. You didn't save her, Cassiel. All you did was temporarily mask what was really in her heart. Her love for me will destroy her...and you I suspect, but in a very different way.”