And so, they were alike.
Kas placed his dagger in her hand and stood.
On the ground, Kaonos struggled under her. “What are you going to do?”
“You know the price of failure.” Her voice was clinical.
“If you let me live, I will speak on your behalf, and—”
“Before you die, you will remember one thing.” She placed the dagger under his throat, pressing it into his trachea. White-eyed terror filled his face. “Their names were Pharia, Forfax, Xaphan, Hamaliel, and Bagnae.”
The deadly edge of the dagger parted the skin at the angel’s throat. A long line appeared on the messenger’s left neck to the right side. Mariel pressed the extra-sharp blade down, sinking it through muscles and arteries and veins and cartilage. Blood gushed over her hand, over Kaonos’s face, over the pavement, pouring out, first in surges of his rapidly beating heart, then slower, as her ex-commander convulsed.
When Kaonos’s body slackened, and his sounds of drowning quieted, she still gripped the dagger as if her arm was an extension of its cold justice. Her former superior officer was dead, his wings at awkward angles underneath her. She bent forward and stared into his dulled eyes one last time and then rose to her feet.
Mariel expected a rush of triumph or fulfillment. Instead, she choked on a sob caused by a pain so deep she feared she’d die from it.
Strong arms encircled her, and she buried her face into Kas’s chest. He held her and whispered soothing words. The thickly coated dagger slid from her bloody hand and clanked to the ground.
When her tears dried, there were still battles yet to come. One for the end of the Renegades, and one for the end of the Directorate. For now, she cried.
And Kas held her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kas pushed open the mansion’s heavy front door and made his way alone down the hall. Mariel had returned to her cottage to change out of her bloody clothing. As he passed, Renegades imitated the marble statues lining the great room—none dared move toward him.
At the basement he descended, the bloodstained tarp he dragged scraping the floor, then thudding on each concrete step. He maneuvered through the tunnel, bearing left, his grip on the grisly package that was slick and sticky. Just before he reached the laboratory’s iron door, it swung open as he prepared to knock.
“Kasdeja.” Rahab’s eyes widened a fraction, then they dipped to the tarp.
He wanted to tell his sire to take a good, long look. Blood covered Kas; the crimson crusted his long hair, soaked his formerly cool Black Sabbath T-shirt, and streaked his jeans. His arms looked like he wore elbow-length red gloves, and he was extremely relieved the stains had not belonged to Mariel. If he could have wept, it would have been for the shirt.
“This is yours.” He tugged the tarp into the lab.
Rahab wasn’t alone. Another angel sat at a desk, his face partially obstructed by a microscope. As Kas frowned, the angel rose, and his mighty black wings stretched to the sides like a peacock showing off his plumage. While this unknown Renegade shared the tall stature of all angels, he had a young face, as if he’d stopped aging at eighteen, but his bearing was one of power.
“Son, this is our leader. Mastema.”
The mythic enemy. Centuries of hunting him had produced nothing but frustration and dead angels. The Bound Ones were never sent to track him, probably because Heaven knew they’d demand freedom if the team succeeded.
Kas kept his cool. Despite the crushing need to put thirty bullets into his enemy’s forehead, he wasn’t prepared to take on two full-bloods. Instead, he made a half bow like he’d seen other Renegades do as a form of respect or some shit.
Mastema grinned, so he’d either done it correctly or looked ridiculous.
“Kasdeja, son of Rahab. Your appearance rouses many questions.” His gaze skimmed over Kas. “I cannot tell if you require aid or no.”
“Not my blood.” Kas shot a look toward his sire. “I brought your angel.”
Mastema clapped his hands once and made his way over. It wasn’t difficult to see why he was the boss. He bore the defined muscles of a battle-honed warrior and owned the presence of a king.
The leader bent at the waist and peered at the tarp, then said, “I see you have wrapped my gift.” Smiling, he looked up. A sense of danger simmered behind the false joviality. “May I open it?”
Ohhhkay. Was the guy a gallon short of a full tank? Kas bobbed his head and, releasing his grip, stepped aside. The Renegade chief made hairs spike along his nape.
Mastema stopped, hands clasped under his wings, and the smile vanished. Rahab hurriedly untied the rope and peeled the edges of the material away.
“The request…was fulfilled,” Rahab said, peering inside. A deep frown appeared on his sire’s face.
Mastema leaned forward, and his eyes flared with his Grace when he asked Kas, “Do you know who this is?”
“Yeah, an asshole named Kaonos.”
He received a bone-shivering glare in return, a strange reaction. The ashen hue of his sire’s face contrasted with Mastema’s deepening red.
The vibes coming off the two angels tripped all his warning signals. “Friend of yours?”
“He was known to us,” Rahab replied coolly. “Kaonos has served as messenger for the Directorate for many years. How—rather, why did you choose him?”
“Didn’t. He chose himself.” Kas considered the situation, not liking the swelling tension. “We have history. He’d heard I’d left the Bound then picked a bad night to get in my face.”
“Naturally.” Mastema stood close enough for him to count each eyelash. “Was he the only angel you could locate?”
Alarms rattled in his head. The two Renegades behaved like they’d lost a poker buddy. Well, damn. He hadn’t seen that coming.
“No offense, but this ain’t pizza delivery.” He pointed at the tarp. “You ordered one dead angel. I brought one dead angel. Did I get your order wrong? Gosh, I suppose there won’t be a tip.”
“And why did you two battle?” Rahab asked through clenched teeth.
“Guess he wanted to settle an old score. Without my team around, he took a shot.”
The observant Mastema had remained quiet, studying him from his hairline to his booted feet then back to his face. It was clinical, almost curious, and several depths of uncomfortable.
“You will be provided a room in the mansion that is yours and yours alone. Rahab is your direct superior. You will answer to him in all matters.”
The leader strode across to the lab table and leaned over a microscope. Kas had been judged and dismissed.
He peered at his sire and received a minute head shake. He walked out with the uneasy sensation of eyes burning craters into his back.
…
“You wished to see me?” Mariel ignored the bulky Renegade who had escorted her to the lab where Mastema and Rahab waited. Kaonos’s wretched body lay in the middle of the floor on the blood-soaked tarp.
“I wish one of my soldiers was gifted with lie detection,” Mastema said, not looking at her. “The half-breed’s mentor, Tanis, possesses such a skill.”
That wasn’t a question, so she stayed quiet.
“You observed the assassin in his task. How did he come upon the angel?”
Mariel focused her thoughts and relayed what she and Kas had discussed. “We were debating how to lure a target when Kaonos appeared. I did not know why he came and thought he had learned I worked for you. He and Kas shared heated words, which turned into a physical altercation. It escalated and the result was the messenger’s death.”
“Did you not find it strange an angel arrived when one was required?”
Her eyes darted from Mastema to Rahab. “The suddenness of his appearance, due to the Nephilim’s altered relationship with the Bound, did not appear random to me.”
Mastema exploded. He brought his fist down on the steel counter, denting it. The microscope was swept off the table and sent crashing into severa
l monitors and flasks.
“That half-breed murdered our most trusted spy,” he yelled. “How could that be random?”
Holy Creator, Kaonos was their spy? Mariel battled the instinct to run. If her former commander was their lackey, then they had to know about her. Had to know she was meant as the sacrificial angel. Had to know Kas had lied.
Rahab crossed his arms. “The assignment worked well, in some ways.”
Mastema cast him a scalding glare, but she pressed her lips tighter, daring not to move, not to twitch.
“Kaonos’s activities went unnoticed by Heaven,” he continued. “His death will make my son their enemy, which works to our benefit. Any hope he harbors of returning to his old life died with the messenger.”
“So, he is ours,” Mastema said. “The Bound will be ordered to hunt him, but are they not fond of their wayward brother?”
Mariel observed the dangerous duo with mounting fear. They hadn’t grabbed her, hadn’t pointed a finger to call her out. What was going on?
“Such an order will widen the fissure between the half-breeds and Heaven,” Rahab answered. “Only their mentor may have the power to delay their inevitable rejection of the Directorate.”
The grim expression loosened on Mastema’s face. “Tanis is broken. His Grace is a fraction of what it once was, and his extended absence from Heaven means he is not fully able to recharge its strength.”
Rahab nodded. “Soon, I shall personally see to his destruction.”
Mariel’s stomach rolled and flipped. Tanis was a father to Kas in every way except creation. For that, Rahab would make the mentor suffer, and his death would destroy her half angel. She didn’t know if she could stop it, but she would protect Kas at all cost.
“Find someone to take this refuse away,” Mastema said to her, waving his hand at the tarp. She bowed and turned to leave. It took all her energy not to sprint to the door.
“And Mariel,” Mastema called after her.
She tensed and glanced over her shoulder.
“Rest assured. I know where your loyalties lie.”
Her belly heaved, and she barely stopped bile from exiting her mouth. Instead, she nodded and escaped the lab.
The Renegade leader’s words formed a sheet of ice along her back. He knew something, and if it was what she feared, she would be dead by dawn.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Mariel’s cottage wasn’t big enough for Kas to pace off his excess energy. When he’d left the lab, he had passed her and her Renegade escort. He’d suppressed the impulse to grab her and bolt, but they’d discussed a similar scenario on the drive back while Kaonos’s corpse chilled in the compartment.
Refreshed from a quick shower and wearing one of Mariel’s blessedly oversized sports jerseys, he pivoted and stalked across the wood floor again. Concern didn’t cover what he felt for her. She’d wiggled her way into his heart, even when he’d thought she’d betray him. Now that he knew her history, he reviewed his feelings. Mariel loved with all her soul. She had pushed through adversity, denied failure, and drop-kicked doubt. Her loyalty to her dead friends further secured her hold over him. He admired mettle like that.
Loyalty he understood. The Bound Ones were why he’d crafted this reckless plan. Protecting what he believed, whom he loved—he couldn’t find fault with her actions. Only now he wasn’t too weak to admit he included a wingless angel in his heart.
God of All, he wanted this mission over. Then he’d make sure she was safe.
The front door opened, and Mariel rushed into his arms. He buried his nose along her neck. This was right. This was perfection. This was where she belonged, where he could protect her and share his strength.
“You good?” he asked softly while nuzzling against her warm skin.
“I hate them. The Directorate put me at risk. And the Renegades know what I am.”
He froze then pulled back to see her. “What? How?”
“Mastema said Kaonos was a spy. Their spy.” She lowered her head to his chest. “Oh, Kas. He must have told them about me.”
That two-faced son of a bitch! If the messenger weren’t already dead, Kas would hunt him down and peel the skin from his worthless body over a three-day period. He clutched her closer and swore an oath under his breath no harm would reach her.
“I am such a fool.”
“Not true.”
“I want the Directorate dead. I will not forgive their treachery.”
He stroked her cheek. “I hear you. Believe me, I’d enjoy seeing Azriel and the others begging for mercy. But you can’t go after them, little angel. You’ll die.”
She slapped his hand aside. “So what? My team died! I should be dead. I lived so the board could use me.”
Kas absorbed the reflected pain in her raw expression, his heart twisting like an amulet suspended in the wind. She deserved vengeance. She deserved absolution. He thrummed with impotent anger on her behalf. Slowly, he reached for her hands and lowered his gaze to her elegant fingers. “I get it. What they did deserves to be repaid in kind, with blood. I want that for you, but…”
“But what?”
He looked at her. So beautiful, so strong. “I care for you, Mariel.”
The surprised gawk made him grin.
“Yeah, what’s up with that?” He chuckled and rubbed his thumbs against her palms. “I’m not smooth like Cain or thick as a brick like Jarrid, but I’m saying what I can. This romantic shit is over my head.”
He winced at his choice of words. “Uh, sorry. Forget the shit part. Well, the first time I said it, not this time.” Kas rubbed his brow. “Romance isn’t shit. I mean, I like it. The romance, not the—ah, hell. I’m all fucked up.”
Mariel covered her mouth, her giggles sending a heat flash to his face. Embarrassed, he stared at the floor. She touched his chin until their gazes met.
“Use your gift, mind reader.”
“Are you sure?”
Her nod encouraged him. Kas summoned his Grace, its cool power swirling through in a chilled rush. Mariel cupped his neck and pulled him into a gentle kiss.
Her thoughts surged into him and warmth radiated through his body. He read what she had not said. Handsome. Worry for him. Irresistible. Trusted lover. Keep him safe. Be together.
Mariel broke the kiss. “I care for you as well.”
Kas captured her mouth in a blazing kiss. She moaned as they tasted each other, delving deeper. He stroked her lower back and nibbled her neck.
An insistent tug at his jersey made him stop long enough to pull the material off. Mariel’s hot hands skimmed down his chest. Then she leaned in and sucked his nipple. His eyes closed at the sensation of her eager swipes. She moved forward and worked the button and zipper of his jeans. His calves hit a couch cushion, and with her momentum, he landed on his ass.
The gleam in her eyes promised pleasure.
Kas lifted his hips and shoved his jeans down, freeing him for her hungry gaze. Instinct kept him from pouncing on her. After the hell she’d lived through, his angel deserved to feel in control.
Mariel gripped his cock and stroked his long, thick length with intent. His head flopped back, and his hands clawed the cushion. Torture, pure and simple.
“Mmm.” She licked the swollen crown. He nearly vaulted off the couch. “So good.”
Panting now, Kas trembled from the delicious friction of her tongue. He wouldn’t last with her skill. He wanted to thrust himself into her.
His wicked lover stood, pulled off her boots, and removed her pants. In one swift action, she straddled him and sank her wet body onto his throbbing dick. Dual cries of pleasure filled the living room. Then Mariel began to grind.
The pace, desperate and filled with lust, drove him deeper into her channel. He grabbed her waist to angle her exactly where he wanted, and then he released all his desire in couch-shaking thrusts. The strength of his thighs supported most of Mariel’s slight weight, and he didn’t hold back. Pounding into her, he forgot the danger they were
in and let the moment replace everything else.
He got lost in the noises of their lovemaking. The desperate begging of his lover hit his blood like a magma flow. She rode him with abandon, hair askew, muttering her demands.
He wanted to stay locked to her forever. Wanted her to possess all of him, accept all of him, in as many ways as he could imagine. Wanted to lick her womanly juices. Wanted to bury his cock in her pert ass.
The images dragged a long growl out of his throat. He wouldn’t last. Next time.
“Please, Kas,” Mariel moaned and scratched down his chest.
“I’ve got you.” He trapped a breast with his mouth and sucked hard.
Her orgasm rocked them both. When she tightened around him, he let his control go and tumbled headlong into happy oblivion. He felt his Grace expand and reach for hers. Shock struck him when their souls met. Hers fire, his ice.
Kas gritted his teeth and pulled Mariel into his embrace. Their souls’ Grace twisted and crashed together, the pain near blinding, and she whimpered against his chest. He felt her shudder as his body shook with the force of their essences colliding.
“W-what is h-happening?”
“Hang on, angel.”
Her arms banded around his neck and stayed there. Moments later, in what could have been a lifetime, their souls surged. She reared up and nearly fell, but he managed to keep a grip on her. They drew ragged breaths, shared a stunned, wide-eyed look. This had happened once, but not to him. A year ago, Jarrid had unwittingly found his girlfriend, Ionie, had an angel’s soul trapped inside her. When their Graces came together, his brother had said the sting was indescribable.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“That was disturbing.”
Kas sobered. “Angel biology is a little weird with humans.”
“Did I harm you?”
“Nope. We learned angel Grace was pure fire, while a half-breed’s was more like a glacier. Tanis thinks it has to do with Nephilim being half human. They repel each other, but other than the discomfort, he’s not sure why it happens.”
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