Far From Center

by Debra Dunbar

  “Another?” A soft hand reached down and stroked along his length. He was still somewhat hard, but the touch was too much for flesh still sensitive from the rapid fire of neurons. Gabriel bit back a wince, allowing himself to push past the overstimulation into thoughts of what could happen again…soon. Twenty? No, maybe ten minutes tops. It was a shame that he was not still an angel or he could easily re-direct the neural pathways and rebound at an inhuman pace. He wondered for a brief moment again if she’d meant that there had been an angel in her past, and how quickly he’d been able to recover. Something hot and fierce shot through him at the thought. He might have lost his wings, but in his heart he was still an archangel — an archangel that would be bested by no one.

  He felt himself begin to stir in her hand, the overstimulated near-pain feeling becoming waves of pleasure once again. Just a little more time. “Yes, another,” he told her, reaching a hand down along her waist. “But first tell me what you like best, what you want me to do.”

  Nyalla stared down at Gabe, watching his chest rise and lower with each breath, fighting the urge to trace her fingers along the muscles of his abdomen. In her opinion what Gabriel might lack in experience he more than made up for in exuberance. And caring. Never had she had a lover so absolutely focused on her, so intent on making sure she had everything she wanted. Men started out that way, but once things got going, the guys she’d been with tended to become rather selfish. It was still fun, but not the rock-your-world experience she’d just had. What a happy surprise that the angel she’d always been told was a boring, stick-up-the-rear jerk was so amazing in every way.

  Someone put her first. He might be a bit weird when it came to the organization of her sock drawer, but when the everything hit the fan, she got the feeling that he’d always made sure she was protected. Joy tingled through her, and she could no longer resist putting a hand against the warm skin just below his sternum. His eyes opened, a swirl of green and bluish gray.

  “Go back to sleep,” she whispered, placing a kiss on his forehead. “I just had to touch you.”

  He smiled, and she felt lost in the curve of his lips. The sheer power of him pressed against her, even though he was now a human. She knew that Gabriel rarely smiled, that his intense, scowling expression had become a kind of calling-card for who he was. A smile. Light and pure, his eyes shifting into a bright shade of aqua with flecks of silver.

  “Put your head on my shoulder,” he told her. “Rest your arm across my torso. Then I will sleep again.”

  Chapter 17

  “Nyalla, hurry up! We’re going to be late.”

  “And whose fault is that?” Her voice rang out over the sound of hair dryer. “Once more, Nyalla. We have time for one more if we hurry.”

  He had said that, not realizing how long it would take her to shower, dry her Rapunzel-length hair, and get ready to meet the Gormand. The greed demon’s flunky, the skinny demon, had called Nyalla’s phone, waking them up from yet another post-coital doze. An hour should have been plenty of time to both make love and attend to personal hygiene, but evidently he’d miscalculated. And he’d stretched the last session of physical intercourse a bit longer then he probably should have. He couldn’t help it. There was a feeling that flooded him every time she came apart in his arms. He’d never felt so full of emotion, of attachment toward another being. Just thinking of her made him stir, made him want to yank that hair dryer from her hand and haul her back to bed to bury himself into her once more.

  “Can’t you go with your hair wet? I don’t think a greed demon is going to be any less impressed with you because of damp hair.”

  Her head popped around the door jamb just long enough that he could see her glare. “Five minutes, Gabe. Just five more minutes.”

  He sighed and turned to the table, once more arranging the books she’d knocked across the surface and onto the floor when they had been overcome by passion in the middle of their breakfast. The pirate one went on the bottom of the stack, then the emotionally damaged hockey player one next. Then he picked up the angel book scowling as he saw the cover with the half-naked dark-haired angel that was supposed to represent Raphael.

  His brother. The light-hearted, fun archangel who didn’t care about his vibration pattern. The angel all the humans seemed to be attracted to.

  Once again he thought of Nyalla’s words in the bedroom. Was it Raphael? Or had it been some human who’d been that ‘douche’. The sound of the hair dryer abruptly stopped, and he heard Nyalla clatter around, no doubt putting on make-up or something.

  “Who was the ‘douche’ who blamed you for seducing him after sex? Was it an angel?”

  The clattering noise stopped, awkward silence filling the air. “Yes, it was an angel. He was…well, it doesn’t matter,” she said from the bathroom.

  It did matter. “You had sex with an angel? An angel besides me? You’ve had physical intercourse with an angel?” He could barely get the words out, fury boiling through him at the thought. “Was it Raphael?”

  Oh, please don’t let it be Raphael.

  She poked her head around the door jamb once more. “Raphael?” Her eyebrows rose. “Like he’d ever look twice at me. I think he’s holding out for a demon of his own.”

  That wasn’t an answer. It wasn’t a reassuring statement either. “So you did want him? If he’d been willing, you would have had sex with him?”

  By the creator, he sounded like a whiny, needy, pre-pubescent schoolboy, not a powerful archangel, but all he could envision was his brother’s hands on Nyalla’s skin, him doing all the things he’d just spent all morning doing — and enjoying.

  She walked out of the bathroom and gave him an odd look. “In truth? Probably. I guess everyone is right. I’m a bit loose when it comes to sex. Humans, angels — I can’t seem to keep from hopping into bed with gorgeous men, whether they be mortal or immortal.” Her voice was light and teasing, but he heard the sadness underneath. She was human. Sexual enjoyment shouldn’t be cause for derogatory name-calling. It seemed things hadn’t changed quite as much in two thousand years as he’d hoped.

  “You were searching for the right one, Nyalla.”

  She sighed. “Sometimes I was searching for quick pleasure, a way to forget for just a moment about…things. Angels…well, you guys are irresistible. Gorgeous, powerful, as emotionally damaged as the hockey player in that book. But I promise you that I’ve never had sex with any of your siblings.”

  Relief flooded through him. “Of, course you find angels irresistible. How could you possibly not be attracted to all this?” Gabe spread his arms and slowly spun about, giving her a sideways smile when he’d completed his rotation. “There’s no fighting our undeniable appeal — archangels in particular.”

  She blinked at him for a second, then laughed. “You’re making a joke. The somber, humorless archangel Gabriel has made a joke.”

  Was that how she thought of him? He guessed it was true, although in her company he was different — light and free.

  “I’m glad that you haven’t had sex with any of my siblings, but I’d really like you to tell me what angel you’ve been intimate with,” he told her. “It would be very awkward if I were to have him in my choir or see him and not know.”

  Plus, if he knew who it was, he could beat the angel into a pulp next time he saw him.

  “I had a brief disastrous relationship with Nils,” she confessed. “He’s Sam’s Fallen angel,” she added at his perplexed expression.

  Eirnilius. He’d just met with the Fallen a few days ago and he’d said nothing about sexual intercourse with humans. Although he wouldn’t have been likely to confess such a thing when he was hoping for reinstatement. In light of all that had happened recently, having sex with a human seemed like a minor offense.

  Except this hadn’t been any human, it had been Nyalla. And the Fallen had been a douche, too.

  “Did you love him?” Gabe nearly choked trying to get the words out.

  Nyalla made a ‘p
fft’ noise. “Hardly. It was sex, and he could never come to terms with it. He was always blaming his cock, blaming me. Do you have any idea what it’s like to engage in a consensual act, only to have your very willing and eager partner accuse you of practically raping him? I made excuses at first, thinking it was because he’d just fallen from Aaru, but after a month I’d had enough. He sleeps in the stable with the horses now.”

  She seemed quite gleeful at Nils’ demoted sleeping quarters. Gabriel couldn’t keep from grinning, not at her outrage, but because this Fallen was clearly not a threat. A douche, was what Nyalla had called him. Actually the Iblis would call him an asshole, but he never understood what a portal for defecation had to do with poor behavior. Although, now that he’d had to use those portions of his anatomy he did understand the term.

  Gabriel put his arm around Nyalla’s shoulders and squeezed. “Good. He can stay there. And if he ever again blames you for his own actions or insults you, I will ride in on a horse and hang him with a rope.”

  She relaxed under his arm, stepping close so she fit against his body. “There won’t be any other angels but you Gabe. No humans or werewolves, or anyone else. Nobody but you, I swear it.”

  He hugged her tight. “Good. Now hurry up or I’m going to go down there and meet with the Gormand all by myself.”

  That got her moving. Finally, she was ready to leave, and not a moment too soon. One more swipe of the hairbrush and they would have been late to their meeting.

  “You look lovely,” he told her, tucking her hand in his elbow. This was how the human men treated women in the books he’d been reading, although he wasn’t sure how they were supposed to get through the doorway side by side like this. And they were both overdressed. According to the cover of one book, he should be without his shirt, his hair blowing in a fierce wind, and she should have the top of her breasts pushed upward and visible, her head thrown backward with eyes closed and red lips pursed.

  But that wouldn’t be very practical for joining a Gormand and quite possibly a rebel angel in a tense meeting. Perhaps they’d do the blowing-hair-and-head-thrown-back pose later.

  “Um, thank you? And you look quite handsome too.” She stopped and straightened the collar on his shirt. It didn’t need straightening. He’d checked and made sure every bit of his attire was perfectly aligned. So either there was something that was purposely supposed to be askew, or like her books indicated, she just wanted an excuse to touch him. He hoped for the latter.

  “I’m not going to stand at the bar and pretend to be a stranger while you face these demons and angel all by yourself,” he said, deciding that he needed to be honest about his intentions. He might be a human, but at heart he was still an angel, and he wouldn’t hesitate to protect her, to sacrifice himself to make sure she was safe.

  Nyalla patted his shoulder. “I know I look like a damsel about to be in distress, but I’m pretty resourceful. I’ve subdued a juvenile red dragon. I’ve taken down an angel and duct-taped him in a basement. I’ve captured half a dozen elves and strung them up from the stable rafters in nets. I even defeated a ghoul. I always appreciate back-up — I’d be a fool not to — but there’s more to me than blonde hair and blue eyes.”

  Aaru above, she’d done all that? Clearly he’d been underestimating humans. Either that, or she was a particularly special human. Actually, she was a particularly special human, she was his — his life mate and best friend. And he wasn’t about to let her meet this demon alone. “Then think of me as this back-up, only sitting right next to you.”

  Her eyes shone dark blue, like the deepest portions of the ocean. “I like having back-up sitting right next to me, especially when it’s you.”

  He stood aside to let her go through the door, then immediately snatched her hand once more, not letting go even as they approached the table of the little restaurant downstairs. The Gormand was there, as was the skinny demon. At the end of the rectangular table, casually sipping an amber colored liquid in a short stout glass was an angel — only it wasn’t the angel Gabriel expected.

  This was an Angel of Chaos, one of the banished from the war nearly three million years ago. Gabriel felt every hair on his body rise, his lips twisting into a snarl. It was forbidden for this creature to be here out of Hel. He’d barely recognized the being. Banishment from Aaru had changed Sirumel. The gold tracings of his hidden wings were tarnished, rotted, broken, and nearly devoid of feathers. Even in a human form, he looked as though he were a hollowed-out shell, a skeleton with leathery skin stretched taught over sinew and bone. His hands were claws that wrapped around the glass, his eyes orange-red and sunken in his face. Nyalla shivered, and he purposely nudged her to the far seat, taking the one next to Sirumel himself.

  “That’s not an angel,” Gabriel pointed to Sirumel. “She asked for an angel to verify the authenticity of the artifact upon its transference, not some Fallen, banished scum.”

  Nyalla sucked in a breath, shooting him a panicked glance. Sirumel’s fingers tightened on his glass, his eyes flaring crimson. Skinny demon slid down in his chair, practically vanishing under the table. The Gormand frowned.

  “I am an angel,” Sirumel hissed. “But I am more interested in what magical device you have that can identify me. I sensed nothing when you sat down, so perhaps it is a spell you cast earlier that has a long period of effect?”

  He felt a hard kick on his ankle. “It’s a spell,” Nyalla announced. “I want to make sure we’re not getting screwed here.”

  The Gormand narrowed his green eyes. “If we screw you, the Iblis will declare a blood-feud.”

  “Yes, but you’ll still have collar and the artifact, and we’d have nothing but a piece of junk. The original scroll had a guarantee by an angel. We need to have an angel verify we’re getting the actual artifact. An angel. Not a demon. Demons lie.”

  Sirumel drew himself up to his full height, which was a good foot over anyone else at the table. Gabriel hadn’t remembered him being so tall. Perhaps banishment had stretched the angel out like a piece of taffy.

  “I’m an angel. I’m an Angel of Chaos. And I will certify that the artifact you’re receiving is genuine.”

  “You were an Angel of Chaos,” Gabriel corrected. “Now you’re just banished scum. And Angels of Chaos are just as likely to lie as a demon. There was an angel who certified authenticity on the scroll. We want the same angel to bear witness to the transaction, or no deal.”

  The Gormand turned his glare to Nyalla. “Who is this guy? The Iblis sends a human woman and two useless demons as her couriers. Weird, but she’s an imp, so that’s not unexpected. But this guy shows up out of the blue and starts acting all bossy and arrogant, like his shit don’t stink. Get rid of him, or I will.”

  Nyalla’s jaw firmed, her eyes dark. “You’re just as much of a lackey as that skinny demon trying to hide under the table. I suggest you stop worrying about my companions and try to salvage this deal before I decide to make a phone call to the Iblis and tell her you’ve breached contract. I want the artifact by midnight tonight. And I want an angel present at the swap. Don’t try to pass off this ancient from Hel as an angel. Don’t slap some feathers on a tourist and call him an angel. Don’t bring a chicken to the deal and call him an angel. One last chance. That’s all you get. Midnight. And if you lost contact with the angel who verified the item on the scroll, then you better hustle and find another.”

  Nyalla stood, her chair scraping on the concrete. The Gormand shot out a hand, and before Gabriel could react, the demon had grabbed Nyalla’s arm and yanked her half-way across the table.

  “I think we should teach this insolent girl a lesson about who is a lackey and who isn’t, don’t you, Sirumel?”

  Gabriel snarled, but stayed in his seat. He was back-up. He could tell that he’d already irritated Nyalla by jumping in and taking charge. He’d only anger her further if he treated her as a distressed damsel and not allow her to try to handle this matter on her own first.

  “C
an I fuck her? I want to fuck her.” The skinny demon giggled, peeking up from under the edge of the table.

  Sirumel’s lip curled up. “I’m not interested in watching you rape this girl. And I’m not so insecure that a human’s demands do more than annoy me. Now if you’d like to remove one of her limbs or disembowel her, just for fun, then I might stay.”

  “How about ‘none of the above’?” Nyalla yanked her arm, then stabbed the Gormand in the hand with a fork.

  The demon shrieked. Gabe stood, and with one fluid movement, grabbed his chair and swung it down on the Gormand’s head. The whole time he kept an eye on Sirumel, just in case. The banished angel was not the sort that would relish inserting himself into a brawl or dismembering a human, in spite of his comment. As he expected, the former angel scooted his chair back from the table, safeguarding his drink from accidental spillage and making sure he didn’t get hit with any flying cutlery or furniture. After that brief second, Gabe didn’t have the luxury of watching Sirumel any longer, because the Gormand had let go of Nyalla and with a roar, grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him across the top of the table.

  Human patrons were screaming and running. Nyalla was grappling with the skinny demon who’d crawled under and grabbed her by both legs. And Gabe’s head was spinning from being bashed face-first into a solid oak table top.

  A few years ago he wouldn’t have known what to do, but he’d been wrestling and engaging in similar brawls with the Iblis from the moment she’d appeared at a Ruling Council meeting, and Gabe had learned the art of dirty fighting. There were no Danishes or trays of bacon nearby, but his arms were free, and he’d recently learned that the body part right in front of him was very sensitive. Turning his head to the side, he shot out a hand and grabbed the demon in the crotch, twisting hard.