The Halo Effect (Cupid Chronicles)

by Allen, Shauna

  “A little at first,” he admitted. “It hurts more now.”

  She pulled back. “It hurts?”

  He flipped around and yanked her to him. “You’re killing me.”

  She gasped when he picked her up and carried her down the hall. “Playtime’s over, Sweet Cheeks.”

  He deposited her on the bed and eyed her with hunger. Then, just as quickly, something shifted on his face and he stepped back. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

  Wait.

  What? But things were moving along so nicely. Perfectly, in fact.

  “What’s wrong?” She had the sudden urge to cover herself.

  “I . . .” He ran a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have manhandled you like that. I don’t want to scare you. Not after what you’ve been through.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Damn, Braelyn, I’m . . .”

  Anger spiked up inside her with a sudden ferocity and she popped to her knees. “If you say you’re sorry one more time . . .”

  He looked at her.

  “Because I’m not sorry.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No.” She puffed out a gust of breath. “Man, you sure know how to be a buzz kill.”

  He flopped onto his back. “Sorry.”

  “There you go again.”

  He looked so disappointed and frustrated she felt sorry for him. And, she was still achy and unfulfilled. And in love.

  She shifted until she straddled his hips. He stared up at her, not saying a word. She reached down and unbuttoned his jeans. His hot gaze tracked her the whole way. When she reached for the zipper, his fingers inched to her thighs and squeezed, the deep brown an erotic sight on her milky white flesh.

  She leaned down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his naval. “You know,” she whispered. “I’m willing to forgive a little buzz kill if you’re willing to forgive my trust issues.”

  Her eyes sought his.

  “Done.”

  She nodded and pressed another kiss just an inch higher. Another. A few more until she got to his neck. Then it was her turn to make him squirm.

  Flesh cruised along flesh, lips and tongues mated until there was nothing else between them but their two hearts and bared souls.

  On an unspoken moment of communion, he gently flipped them so they were skin-to-skin and heart-to-heart. He stared reverently into her eyes before he entered her.

  She brushed a kiss to his lips. “I love you, Noble Blackfeather.”

  His dark gaze seared her. “And I love you, my sweet Braelyn. Forever.”

  Epilogue

  Almost one year later . . .

  Noble sat in his truck while the blustery wind whipped past and eyed the brand new sign with profound disbelief.

  Blackfeather’s Tattoo Studio.

  He’d done it. Of course they were closed for Christmas, but he’d taken a drive out to pick up a few things for Braelyn and ended up there, staring at the sign with his name on it. His name. He still couldn’t believe it.

  How he’d gone from the poor little Indian boy who couldn’t read to a successful businessman with a beautiful wife, a great kid, and new house in the Hill Country, he’d never friggin’ know. Dumb luck.

  His cell rang, jarring him from his thoughts. Crap, wifey had busted him. He checked the caller ID. Nope.

  He grinned. “Hey, Jed!”

  “Merry Christmas, bro. How goes it in the sticks? Ready to move back to civilization yet?”

  “Not a chance.”

  His friend laughed and a baby cried in the background. Last time he saw Codi she was growing like a little weed and was the spitting image of her mother. Lucky girl. “Seriously, how’s business?”

  “Great. Booming.”

  “Good to know. Same here. I’ve had to hire some new folks. A chic named Kami and a guy named Ian. I think you met him once?”

  “Yeah, maybe. Any good?”

  “Well, they’re not you, but they’re okay. And since I lost you, Michael, and Ariel in one fell swoop, I had no choice. It’s just not the same without you.”

  He heard the wistfulness in his friend’s voice. But times change, life goes on. That was solidified for him when he put his grandfather in the ground on Easter Sunday, and his bitterness with him. “Yeah, I know. Why don’t you guys come visit soon? Check out the shop?”

  “Love to.”

  They hung up and Noble pulled out to hit the only store open on Christmas Eve. He’d have to hurry home because he’d promised Tristan a game of zombie something or other before dinner. Man, he couldn’t wait ‘til the kid got interested in something else.

  He fought the crowds, zipped home and ducked inside with the sacks of groceries. “Babe! Got your stuff. Now your Christmas dinner can be complete with that fruity thing . . .” The house was silent. “Babe?”

  He found Tristan in the living room. “Where’s your mother?”

  “In her room. Says she’s not feeling good.”

  He went to check on her and found her bundled under her Purdue blanket, sound asleep. He sat next to her. “Baby?”

  Her eyes slid open and she offered a sleepy half-smile. “Hey.” She glanced at the clock. “What time is it? Oh, crap. Dinner.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Tristan said you’re not feeling well?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She sat up, but the expression on her face was anything but fine. She pressed a hand to her stomach.

  “Hold on. You’re not going anywhere.” He pressed her back down with a gentle shove.

  “But what about dinner? And presents? We decided to do presents on Christmas Eve this year.” She looked disappointed.

  “I’ll handle dinner and Tristan can wait ‘til tomorrow for his presents. He’s perfectly content with his video games right now.”

  “But what about you?”

  “What about me?”

  She motioned him to hold on, then reached into her bedside table and withdrew a small, oblong box wrapped in silver paper. “Merry Christmas.”

  He saw the sweet longing in her eyes. Something was up. Gingerly, he opened the box. A stick? His brows dipped in confusion. Until he saw the tiny pink plus sign.

  He glanced up. She was crying. He used his thumb to wipe the tears that had started falling down her cheeks.

  “What do you think?” she asked, her voice trembling and uncertain.

  “I think . . .” He looked at it again, remembering all the things that just minutes ago, he’d been so in awe of in his life. This was another one to add to the list. “I think it’s perfect.”

  Michael sat in the Heavenly debriefing room. His mission had been a success. He’d been blessed to stay and love those humans for as long as he had. He’d even gotten to see the beautiful child created with his union between Jed and Kyle. How special. And yet, even now a year later, his heart ached a bit from missing them all.

  But, love and loss went hand in hand. Father was a God of giving and taking because life was all about the ebb and flow. Michael knew this. But that didn’t ease the hurt.

  A statuesque angel with a cascade of bright red hair came floating in minutes later. “Hello, Brother Michael. I am Seraphina, Gabriel’s superior.”

  He stood and allowed his light to glow respectfully. “Ma’am. It’s an honor.”

  She shooed him back to his seat. “Please, the honor is mine. We are all very impressed with your work, Michael.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes. You’ve made a few mistakes, certainly. But, by in large, you’ve been very successful with your work over the centuries. And Father is most impressed by your humble, loving spirit, Brother.”

  He flushed, unsure w
hat to say.

  “He’d like to promote you to Gabriel’s position when Gabriel moves up the ranks. What would you say to that, Michael?”

  He stared at her. Surely there was some mistake.

  “No. No mistake.”

  Had he said that out loud or was she tapping into his thoughts? He shook his head. “Well, I-I’m not sure what to say. I’m not sure I’m qualified.”

  She smiled, her light filling the room with serenity. “If Father says you’re qualified, then, Brother, you are qualified.”

  She had a point. “Then I guess I’d be honored. If Gabriel doesn’t mind, that is,” he added.

  “Of course not. He recommended you.”

  “He did?”

  She nodded as if to say the question was ludicrous.

  “Well, okay, then. I guess I should be going? I have a short break before I’m to receive my next assignment.”

  She produced a shimmering, gold-lined envelope from her voluminous white gown. “For you.”

  And with that, she was gone.

  Michael’s heart pounded as he picked up the letter from Father. With shaking hands, he broke the seal and read:

  My Dearest Michael,

  I am very proud of you. You are exceeding my expectations and your matches have gone spectacularly well. You’ve taken on every challenge I’ve asked of you with a willing heart and helped many couples come together who might not have otherwise.

  I know leaving them behind has been hard, but it could not be helped. I have faith in your strong heart.

  When you’re ready, before you take on the challenge of leading the Love Detail, I have a very special assignment for you. It will require your utmost care and discretion, as it’s not your typical human. It’s one of our very own.

  Details to follow.

  I love you.

  Father

  Angelic Commandments

  An Angel shall have no other God before the Father.

  An Angel shall never reveal their angelic visage or mission to a human unless commanded, ordained or, in exceptional cases, Heavenly possession by the Father.

  An Angel shall never bear false witness against another Angel.

  An Angel shall never have romantic or intimate relations with a human.

  An Angel shall never question nor impugn the will of the Father and shall always fulfill their mission to the best of their God-given ability.

  Also be sure and keep a look out for New and Upcoming Titles like Elvis is a Keeper

  Coming August 2013 from Soul Mate Publishing

  Hook . . .

  Em Reed’s life has been complicated enough—thank you, very much. As a single mother struggling to take over the family fishing guide business, she yearns to make her beloved father proud. He is the only man she trusts—the only one who has been there for her through every heartache.

  Line . . .

  And the last thing the needs is to fall for some brainiac writer who is only in town temporarily. Even if he does bear a fascinating resemblance to the King of Rock ‘n Roll—the only man who still rocks her world.

  And Sinker . . .

  But as her life takes a horrific turn for the worst and her father is accused of a brutal crime, can she keep her family together, her father from confessing to save the love of his life, and her own heart safe?

  Or is Elvis a Keeper?

  You can find Shauna at:

  www.shaunaallen.com

  or find her on Facebook and Twitter

  You can also find out more about Soul Mate Publishing

  Visit us at:

  www.SoulMatePublishing.com

  Did you miss Jed and Kyle’s story?

  Want to know how a bumbling but determined cupid can match up a surly tattoo artist and a mousy accountant?

  Pick up Inked by an Angel : Book I of the Cupid Chronicles

  Available now from Soul Mate Publishing

  Is Michael’s heart prepared to match up a fallen brother?

  Is such redemption possible?

  Please turn the page for a preview of:

  Wounded Wings:

  Book III of the Cupid Chronicles

  Coming this Winter from Soul Mate Publishing

  Elijah rolled up to New Destiny, Arizona with only three things on his agenda. A full tank of gas, a Denver omelet, and keeping on the road to get as many miles between him and New York’s bad memories as humanly possible.

  Humanly possible. He was still getting used to that concept.

  His 1989 sedan gave a painful chug and died in front of the New Destiny Diner. A positive step in the direction of his omelet plan, but it did not bode well for him getting on the road anytime soon.

  He rounded his hood, which was puffing out ominous gusts of overheated air, and noticed a loud clacking noise that hadn’t been there before. Maybe he’d have to break into his little reserve of cash and have a mechanic look it over before he moved on. If he could even start it again. Unfortunately, he had zero mechanical skills to draw upon. Frustratingly, he had very few humanly skills to draw upon, which had gotten him laughed at more than once, and very nearly into trouble a time or two on the road. What he wouldn’t have given for a few more earthly assignments to learn human ways before . . .

  He had no idea humans were so . . . unforgiving of simple misunderstandings.

  He eyed the front of the diner. It was typical of a hundred other small town diners he’d been to. Worn brick exterior, wide glass windows with shoe polish writing extolling the latest special or, in this case, the high school football team. Next door a small bakery—Vi’s Sweet Spot—had delectable scents drifting out, making his stomach grumble. Across the street sat a hardware store and a floral shop with bags of mulch already stacked on the sidewalk ready for spring planting. Two doors down was Delaney’s Beauty Parlor.

  But, by far, the diner was obviously the center of this town and several cars were already crowding the lot, even at six-twenty in the morning. It seemed like a nice town and he had an idle thought that he could see the appeal of living in a place like it, but as quickly as the thought occurred to him, he dismissed it. He was moving on. Where, he wasn’t sure, but he’d know it when he found it, and peace would hopefully find him there one day. If he was lucky.

  He pushed open the door to the diner and was greeted by the hustle and bustle of customers joking and greeting each other, dishes clanking, the morning news streaming from an overhead flat screen, the cash register ringing up orders and banging shut. The scent of perfectly brewed coffee welcomed him and he looked around, wondering if this was a seat-yourself kind of place. With no sign to instruct him, he took a chance and perched on a stool at the counter, which was nearly the only available seat other than a large table in the center of the place and a lone booth.

  Behind the kitchen window, an overweight cook had sweat dripping down his face and didn’t appear to be in any hurry to get any of the numerous orders off of his turnstile as the waitress shoved them up at an impossible rate.

  Finally, a sweet, young slip of a girl jogged up to Elijah. “Mornin’. What’ll ya have? Special is French toast with a side of sausage links and hash brown casserole.”

  “Good morning . . .” He glanced down at her nametag. “Maura.” He smiled up into her surprised blue eyes as she offered him a tentative half-smile and waited for his order as the customers behind him roared with laughter, momentarily distracting them both. “Just orange juice and a Denver omelet. Please.”

  She wrote it down. “You want any bacon or sausage on the side, or picante sauce with that?”

  “No, thank you.”

  She rushed off to place his order on the rack with the multitude of others then brought him back a large glass of cold, fresh squeezed juice. He thank
ed her and took a sip, picking up the discarded paper next to him. He tended to mind his own business in each new town he came to, as it kept him out of trouble and he didn’t have to talk to many people that way. But, the news was sparse and uninteresting, and the people-watching was far more entertaining. Besides, he knew he really needed to learn human ways. As awkward as it was at times.

  A man, apparently the Sheriff, sat in a far booth laughing with an elderly gentleman about something that got away. The way they spoke, it became obvious it was simply another human colloquialism Elijah didn’t understand. He pulled out his pocket-sized spiral notebook and made a note to look it up and find out what that meant. Right after “time flies,” “screw yourself,” and “yo, dog” that was obviously not the canine version. Oh, and he needed to find out what that Spam stuff was. He’d been among humans, in and out, for centuries, but they changed so rapidly he had trouble keeping up. Especially when so much of his previous work was not on Earth.

  He glanced over as the front door opened again and was awestruck for the first time since . . . since the night he’d first laid eyes on Sarah.

  His heart seized up at the realization. What could that possibly mean? He studied the woman who entered as she walked across the threshold and up to an older woman at the front counter. She looked nothing like his Sarah. Nothing in the way she held herself was similar, so why was his gut churning like he recognized the pretty blonde?

  He strained to listen as she spoke.

  “Hi, Sharla. Here’s enough stuff to get you through today.” She hefted a basket up onto the counter. “Aunt Vi even threw in some of her famous Mississippi Mud cake.”

  The lady behind the counter grinned. “Well, that oughta sell out in no time. Thanks, Naomi. Why don’t you stay for a cup of coffee or some breakfast?”