by Kim Loraine
"So, you at least got a few good hits in."
"I tried to stop him."
He's not healing, not like he should be. Can a demon's poison kill him? A stab of fear twists in my gut. Raising my wrist to his lips, I wait for him to take my offering, but he doesn't.
"I can't," he says, his voice trembling with need. "I'll kill you. I won't be able to stop."
"That's ridiculous." I stare hard at him, but his eyes are clear and determination shines within their depths. So, I walk him to the bed and gently push until he sits on the mattress. "Wait there. I can at least get you cleaned up and dress your wounds."
By the time I return with a bowl of warm water mixed with witch hazel and a clean cloth as well as a healing salve, he's stretched out on the bed, stripped down to his boxer briefs. A small thrill runs through me at the sight. The man is pure perfection.
"You're ruining the duvet," I tease.
"I've got a witch. She can conjure me a new one."
Settling myself on the side of the bed, I dip the cloth into the bowl and then gingerly wipe the blood from his brow. He winces at the contact, but if I can't heal him with my blood, I'll need to at least disinfect these deep scratches. His hands ball into tight fists as I clean him as carefully as possible and I wish for the second time today that my sisters were here. Izzy has a talent for healing. Maybe she'd be able to do this without causing pain.
"I'm going to put a healing salve on you. It's going to hurt, but since you won't let me give you my blood, you'll have to deal with it." I whisper the words into his ear and he nods in response.
"At least I've got your hands on me."
"I see you're still incorrigible. You must be feeling better. I can always leave you to work through this on your own." I move to rise, but his hand shoots out and catches me by the elbow.
"Don't leave me, Helena." There's a tenderness and vulnerability I've never heard in his voice before.
"Fine, then shut your gob and let me apply this."
He closes his eyes and sighs. "I'm in your hands."
Ten minutes later, the salve is applied and he's as clean as I can get him. His skin is still fevered and he lies in a state of semi-consciousness, murmuring nonsense at times. The man is delirious. I try to stand to stretch my legs and at least take the bowl and washcloth into the bathroom, but his large palm grips me and he opens his eyes in a near panic when the bed shifts.
"I said, don't leave me," he growls. "You're mine."
Like I said, delirious.
"I'll be right back." I extricate myself from his grasp, but can't help the need to lean down and press a soft kiss to the only unmarred place on his face—the corner of his mouth.
"Mine," he whispers, but he lets me go.
I cast a glance back over my shoulder as I leave. I might have him under my spell, but I'm afraid he's winding one of his own around me.
Tamiel
I've got to be dreaming. My mind tells me that's the truth because I've been here before. But damn it all if it feels real. As real as it did the first time. The cool, misty night air in Leeds smells exactly the same as it did nearly twenty-seven years ago. It's where I'd spent the last eighty-odd years of my never ceasing existence and it's always felt like home. I don't know why. Dread sits heavy in my gut as I watch the busy street. This is a moment I've relived thousands of times, but never in such vivid detail.
Like clockwork, the blue sedan with a broken headlamp rounds the corner and the light changes. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen steps out of a shop with bags in her hands and an annoyed scowl on her face as the first drops of rain begin to fall. My heart gives a pang of recognition as it finds its other half. She is mine and because I've already lived this once, I know that any minute, two of my fallen brothers are going to rush her and shove her into the path of the blue sedan because they don't want me to have her. I know that I'm going to have to watch my soul mate die…unless I stop it.
I see them, two men I've known since the dawn of time, as they come at her from both sides. "Helena!" I scream. She looks up and her bronze gaze locks onto mine. My panic is palpable, squeezing my chest and making my brain buzz with adrenaline. Their hands are on her, my body moves without thought for my own safety. I catch her in my arms as they shove her into the path of the car.
When I blink, I expect to see her with me, but I'm right back on the edge of the sidewalk watching as the light changes and the fucking blue sedan rounds the corner. She steps out of the shop again and this time, I'm frozen in place watching it all replay. But this time I don't rescue her. This time, my Helena screams as the car hits her and I'm helpless to stop it.
And then it starts all over again.
So, this is Hell. I've finally been called to receive my punishment.
"Tamiel." Helena's voice eases into my consciousness, begging me to come back from the brink of madness.
"You were mine," I murmur. "I should have saved you."
She huffs and I feel a cup pressed to my lips. "Drink this, you bloody idiot. You're out of your mind with fever."
Blood hits my lips. Her blood. I'll never forget the way she tastes. Like everything decadent and sinful. Like temptation and perfection. Adam chose the apple, but Helena is my original sin.
At first, I fight it. I'll kill her. I know it. But the offering keeps coming and I swallow it down, clarity winning out over delusion. The cup isn't her vein, there's not a way for me to take too much. After she removes the cup from my lips, I relax back against my pillow and slowly open my eyes. My soul mate stares down at me, the fall of long, chocolate waves hanging over one shoulder, large concerned eyes locked on mine, and her perfect mouth turned down in a frown.
"You're still not healing, but that seems to have taken care of your fever."
I push myself up to a seated position, still feeling weak and pained, but she's right, the fever is gone. "That was dangerous. I could have gone for your throat."
"Well, I wasn't about to wait around another three days to see if you died or not."
Three days? "I'm not going to die. I just have to let the poison work its way out."
"That's not what Gabriel said."
"Gabriel came to see you?"
She stands and puts her hands on her hips. "I called him after you'd been screaming nonsense for a solid day."
"You summoned him?"
"And it's a good job I did. He told me you might never come back if you got trapped inside your own personal Hell. He said the poison was laced with a spell designed to lead the victim deep into their own mind."
My skin crawls at the thought of being forced to watch Helena die over and over for all eternity after being allowed to save her once. My gaze drifts to the bandage on her wrist. "And who had the brilliant idea of you harming yourself to give me blood?"
"That was me. He wanted me to just let you go to town, but I knew you'd never forgive me for that." She shrugs and holds up her wrist. "I figured I could force it down you if I put it in a cup."
"Wise witch. I'd never willingly hurt you, but I wasn't in my right mind. Thank you for bringing me back from…that."
She studies me, her brow pulled together and lips turned down in an enticing pout. "Where were you?"
A shudder rolls through me. I don't want to rehash details with her, and I certainly don't plan to share the fact that she is the weapon of my torture. "Somewhere I never want to be again."
Her fingers trail lightly along the wounds at my side, the touch sending tingles of awareness through me mixed with faint pain. "You're healing. Slowly, but it's happening."
I nod and offer her a slight smirk. "Your witch's blood is powerful. I'd be down for the count at least a week, if not more, if I were feeding on a human." I'm not going to tell her anything about the other way I feed. Sex with my soul mate would bring me back to full power, but it would also clue her in on the depth of our connection and she'd run the other direction. Helena has been hurt far too many times by men, and there's no doubt in my min
d that she'd sooner die—again—rather than have her heart claimed by me.
"Take more. I need you." Her wrist is still healing. I can smell the blood even through her bandage. Part of me wants to push her away and tell her no, but she's right. She needs me to be there for her in ways she can't understand yet. I'm no good to her if I'm weak. Already I've wasted three days we could've been looking for Calista.
Grabbing her hand, I gently tug her to me. "I need you as well, love." She doesn't look away from my eyes as she removes the bandage and holds her wrist to my lips, but I shake my head. Pricking my finger on my fang, I run the drop of blood over her marked skin and watch the injury heal. "I said I wouldn't hurt you and I meant it." I reach up to trace the line of her throat, stopping to feel the pulse point. Her heart is racing. "Come here."
She leans forward, the delicate scent of her skin sending arousal across my entire being. "Do it," she whispers, tension and desire lacing her tone.
My lips find her soft skin an instant before my fangs pierce her vein and it's pure ecstasy and divine providence all wrapped into one beautiful moment. I close my eyes and worship at her altar while thanking my Father for allowing me to have another chance with her after all this time.
If I have it my way, I'll never be without her again.
6
Helena
I used to have a problem with vampires, but maybe I've been a little hasty in my dismissal of them. At least when it comes to the fallen angel variety. Tamiel's lips and teeth on me send shivers of delight dancing across my skin. I want to break down the barriers between us and let him have his way with me, right now. But he's guarded, hesitant, and I don't know why. I'll never use my siren song on him in that way, to coerce his sexual advances, but from all the signals I've gotten from him over the last few months, the friend zone wasn't on my radar.
"Tamiel," I moan, leaning against him as he coaxes an orgasm from me using nothing more than his teeth in my neck.
He tangles his fingers in my hair and deepens the bite, a dull ache beginning to take hold that is not at all unwelcome. I can feel his need, his desire for me. Running my hands down his side, careful of the wounds healing there, I stop when I reach his rock hard length. Yes, he wants me, that's certain. I slip my hand under his boxers and moan at the velvet soft skin encasing his thick shaft. He lets out a groan, low and guttural, when I grip him and stroke. If he won't let us fuck, at least he'll give me this. I want to wring every drop of pleasure from him.
Moving my palm back and forth as he feeds from me, I focus on his building climax, on the shallow unintentional thrusts his hips are making. A bead of moisture gathers at his tip, spreading wetness over my fingers and aiding my motions. And then he frees my throat and lets out a pained roar as he pulls away.
We're both breathing hard and fast, our foreheads pressed together and gazes locked. "I…I really like it when you feed," I say through harsh breaths. "But you didn't—"
He interrupts me with a shake of his head. "Like is too unimportant a word, love. I like watching hockey. Feeding from you is akin to a religious experience. It's a sacrament. I'll never feed from another because there's not any way it would live up to you."
My heart gives a squeeze and I fight the fear and excitement culminating all at once. Clearing my throat, I glance down at my hand, covered in his pre-come, and, God help me, a blush heats my cheeks. "I'd better go wash up."
He presses a soft kiss to my lips before leaning back and releasing a sigh. "I'll be here."
In the bathroom, I wash my hands and all the while I have to force the silly smile off my face. Tamiel has me acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. I didn't have to polish his knob just because he'd given me an orgasm. I'd been giving the fallen my blood, the wank had been a bonus—even if he didn't come. Why am I feeling like we'd just taken a step into something more serious? Shaking my head, I stare at myself in the mirror over the sink. Pink cheeks, bright eyes, mussed hair. I look like a woman in love, not one who is fighting for her life and holding a man captive with a spell.
A wave of dizziness takes hold, causing me to grip the counter as the lights in the room dim. Something is not right. My stomach twists and bile rises in my throat.
"Tamiel!" I call, the pain of a forced summoning making my voice thin and fragile.
Who is summoning me? No one should be able to break through the wards Tamiel has on this place. I should be completely invisible to all other than the angels. Gathering my magic, I fight through the pain and ground myself in the one thing I know here. My fallen angel. Tamiel is my anchor. He won't let me leave.
My hair flies around my face and a hum fills my ears as the battle between my power and the person who is summoning me wages on. Invisible, but deadly.
"Tamiel, please!"
He bursts through the door, healed and glorious, but his face is a mask of terror as he stares at me. "What the hell is going on?"
I reach out, needing him to take my hand, to give me some of his grace and, bless him, he understands without words. We thread our fingers together and I can see the power in the form of tendrils of glowing gold flowing from his heart, down his arm, and into our joined hands.
With one more flare of resistance, I'm able to shut down the summoning. The three bulbs in the light fixture above the mirror pop, leaving us in darkness, but the point is, I'm still here.
"What in the name of God was that?" Tamiel asks, his voice breaking the silence of the quiet room.
"A summoning. Someone knows where I am."
Tamiel
"How? Not even your sisters know." My gut churns at the thought of someone stealing Helena away and doing God knows what to her.
"Gabriel knows."
I shake my head. "No. He'd never give up your location."
Her bitter laugh isn't surprising. "Gabriel will do whatever he has to in order to achieve his goal. If he needed something and the only way was to sell us out, he'd do it."
"I don't think you understand him as well as you believe you do."
She puts her fingertips to her temples and sighs before leaning forward and resting against my shoulder. "My head is splitting. Can we take this debate into somewhere I can lie down? I've just been willingly mauled by a vampire and nearly pulled through time and space. I'm fairly certain I've earned a rest."
My injuries are healed with the exception of a slight bit of residual pain in the two places Kit scratched me. Before Helena can stop me, I scoop her into my arms as though she's my bride.
"What are you doing, Fallen? I'm not a bloody damsel in distress."
She squirms, but I hold her tighter. "No. You're weak because you gave your blood to heal me. I'm carrying you, and you're not going to argue."
"Ugh, fine. But only because your biceps are huge and I'd like to examine them up close."
A swell of pride builds in my chest and I wish my bed was farther away so I could keep her in my arms for a few moments longer. "You can examine me any time you want to, love."
I lay her on my bed and sit next to her. "Now, tell me where it hurts."
She winces and points to her forehead. "Are you going to angel magic it away?"
"I am." Grabbing her palm, I apply pressure to the soft space between her thumb and forefinger.
"Oh, Lord. Where did you learn that?"
I lean down, trailing my fingers up the velvet soft skin of her bare arm. She's holding her breath, waiting as I brush my lips across her ear and whisper, "Google." Her rose and fresh water scent has my body on edge, but it's her laughter that does me in. The honesty behind her amusement gives me just one more look at the woman who is hidden under the armor she wears so well.
"You're such an arse," she says, a smile in her voice.
"But I have angel magic, and you like me. Admit it."
She sits up and tries to frown, but the ghost of a smile peeks through. "Fine. I like you a little."
"And I you, when you're not being difficult and conniving."
"Conniving?
"
"You know it's true."
"I certainly do not. You're clearly mistaken." She lifts her chin and huffs, but I can see the amusement in her countenance.
I wonder at her strength and the attitude she hides behind. Has she truly never experienced love? I know I haven't, not yet. She might be my soul mate, but I haven't had the honor of loving her yet. I can only hope she'll let me.
"Tamiel," she begins, pulling my thoughts back to the moment. "What exactly were you doing with a demon?"
My gut churns. I can't tell her. If I do, I risk her making a deal, damning her soul. "I needed information. I've been fighting for my own survival far longer than I have been on the side of good or evil. I summoned him. The circle broke."
One beautifully arched eyebrow rises in disbelief as she sits up. "You summoned a demon without me? Did you have any sort of back up?"
"Give me some credit, love. I'm a fallen angel with vampiric strength and speed. I should be able to handle one measly demon."
"Sure. Except I seem to remember you got the shite kicked out of you by said demon. So it seems to me that you couldn't exactly handle him. Unless getting poisoned was part of some genius master plan?"
If I could flush in embarrassment, I would right bloody now. "Fair point."
"And what kind of pathetic circle did you draw that a demon could break it?"
"It was a fine circle. I used my angelic grace to contain him as I have countless times over the centuries."
"Then what happened? Unless he was Lucifer himself, that demon shouldn't have been capable of breaking his cage."
"My foot."
She stares at me as though I've spoken in tongues. "What?"
"He goaded me and I stepped forward, breaking the circle."
Her eyes close as she takes slow, steady breaths. "Where did you do this?"
