Nemesis: Paranormal Angel Romance (Realm of Flame and Shadow Book 2)

by Christina Phillips

  “Prepare for docking procedure.” She had no idea where the words came from but they made her laugh, especially when he shot her another of his pained looks.

  He dropped one side of his coat, gripped his cock and nudged her deliciously swollen clit.

  “Incoming,” he growled, and shudders rippled through her as she sank onto him.

  The breath hissed between her teeth as he stretched her tender flesh. He palmed her butt, forcing her down the length of his shaft.

  “How does it feel?” The words were raw, savage with need, and his eyes were so dark they appeared black. “Different?”

  She tried to speak but words hovered just beyond her reach. Instead she gripped his neck and biceps and gave a jerky nod.

  “Better?” It was a rabid demand and he pushed upward, penetrating deep inside. She gasped and clung onto him, unable to move. Not wanting to move. Not sure she would ever be able to again. “You like it?”

  She sucked in a strangled breath. “Yes.” She attempted to make sense of her spiraling thoughts. “But it’s not better, exactly.”

  The added friction from the ribbed condom sent her sensitized nerve endings trembling on a knife-edge. She liked it but she wasn’t sure if she loved it. She had the vague, unsettling feeling that she might splinter apart if she wasn’t careful.

  Still holding one side of his coat around her, his other hand trailed from her butt over her hip, before cradling her face. It was a strangely tender gesture and caused a pleasurable pain to squeeze her heart.

  “Are you okay?” The words were uneven, but concern threaded through his question. As if her comfort was more important to him than simply finishing what they had started. Warmth flooded her veins and the lingering tendrils of discomfort vanished beneath a rolling wave of need.

  “Yes.” Her gaze locked with his and she curled her hands around his shoulders to use as leverage. She was always okay when she was with Azrael. More than okay. If only I could always be with him. “What do you think? A couple of minutes?”

  He grunted. Clearly, he couldn’t give a damn how long they had before the quarter chimed. “Ride me, Rowan. Ride me hard.”

  Raw desire arrowed through her core, a pleasure so intense it hovered on the precipice of agony. She pumped her hips, grinding into him, welcoming his answering thrusts with ragged gasps of delight.

  His fingers speared through her hair. He wound her curls around his fist and tugged her closer. Their hot breath mingled and then he leaned in and nipped her lower lip.

  The world shattered. She forgot where they were. Forgot the need for quiet. Forgot everything except for the man she clung onto as volcanic pleasure erupted and consumed, scattering her senses and shattering her psyche.

  Through the turmoil that raged, the haunting chimes from the clock tower echoed through her mind. But they faded into nothing as he ground one word against her mouth.

  “Rowan.”

  Chapter 14

  Rowan

  Afterwards, they strolled in the direction of Westminster Bridge. Rowan had no idea whether Azrael had anything else in mind for today and didn’t want to shatter the moment by asking. In any case, she could hardly keep the inane grin off her face never mind construct a logical sentence.

  “Thank you for a lovely morning. I’ll have to think of something spectacular to surprise you with in return.”

  His laugh was deep and rich that warmed her from the top of her head to the end of her toes. He looked at her as if she was the center of his existence. If only.

  And then his gaze turned speculative. “How badly injured are you?”

  “I—what?” How did he know she was injured? Did she want him to know she was injured? “How do you mean? You didn’t hurt me.”

  He ignored her pitiful attempt to deflect his meaning. “I saw you wincing a few times.”

  Wincing? No, she hadn’t. Well, okay maybe she had shifted slightly on his lap into a more comfortable position but—god. Was that why he’d asked her if she was all right? Because he had noticed she was in pain?

  She had the ridiculous urge to melt into a puddle at his feet. “Oh, it’s nothing.” She could hardly believe he had noticed. Yet he had. It was slightly alarming to realize just how much that thrilled her. “I misjudged a couple of moves last night, that’s all. Entirely my own fault. You should see the other guy, though.”

  Not that such a thing was possible. Because the other guy, a vampire who had crossed the Elders of the Enclave, was now nothing more than dust on the wind.

  “If I did, I’d break his neck for daring to hurt you.”

  Enchanted, she smiled up at him. “That’s a lovely thing to say.”

  The words were out before she could stop them. Except she did think it was a lovely thing for him to say. But was it normal to think like that? Would a regular human woman have responded that way?

  He gave a huff of laughter, as though her response had taken him completely by surprise. Clearly, a regular human woman wouldn’t have given the same answer. But her worry faded, because he hadn’t judged her for it.

  He never did.

  Azrael

  It was late afternoon before Azrael teleported home. After the boat trip Rowan had taken him out to lunch at a riverside pub and then they’d spent a couple of hours in the Jubilee Gardens.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent such a day. In the past his sexual encounters had been exactly that. There had been no strolling hand in hand by a river. No sideways glances to admire the female’s profile. No constant sensual sizzle in the air between them, or an undefined reluctance to end the day.

  Truth was, he hadn’t wanted to end the day at all. It had been Rowan who’d ended it, because she’d had to check into work. But not before she’d arranged their next meeting for the following night.

  He still knew nothing about her elusive job, let alone her family. But it was all part of her allure. When he’d asked if she operated under the official radar, she’d told him the world would be a far more dangerous place if not for her family business.

  He had the feeling she wasn’t joking.

  It wasn’t that much of an inconvenience, being enthralled by a human. It wasn’t like it would last. Once her secrets were out, there would be nothing left for him to discover and her irresistible aura of mystique would fade. He just wasn’t ready to let her go yet. That was all.

  He went into his bedroom that boasted magnificent mountainous views through the wall of glass that opened onto the veranda. He tossed his shirt onto the end of the bed, rolled his shoulders and unfurled his wings. It was a relief to drop the glamour.

  Later tonight he was seeing one of his closest archangel friends, Nathanael, and the elusive contact he’d wanted to meet with for years. Why the contact had finally agreed to speak with him, he had no idea.

  Guess he’d soon find out. In the meantime, there was something else he needed to do. After speaking with Mephisto yesterday, he’d vowed to spend a couple of hours each day on the astral planes specifically searching for a trace of Nephilim soul.

  The astral planes were a haven of tranquility and beauty and he could never understand why the majority of his fellow archangels avoided the realms like humans avoided the proverbial plague.

  They had always fascinated him. Even before the catastrophic devastation that had decimated humanity and obliterated Nephilim from the face of the Earth. He’d been drawn to the complexity of the many realms and the intricate passage each soul traversed after its physical body died.

  He sank to the lower levels, the realms that brushed against the physical universe. These were the levels frequented by the living who entered the astral planes by way of dreams or meditation. Before this week he’d rarely entered these realms because the souls of the dead bypassed them.

  Which made them the perfect place to start his search for an elusive Nephilim.

  He filtered through the cacophony of countless energy signatures. His strategy was simple. He’d untangle e
very spiritual thread, identify their origin, and by a process of elimination discover the truth.

  One way or another.

  It could take centuries. But if there was one thing he had in abundance, it was time.

  A distant echo of discordance reverberated along the outer reaches of the realm and his soul shuddered in response. Three times during the last few months he’d encountered this anomalous ripple and the elusive hint of the essence of the phoenix was unmistakable.

  Nine hundred years ago he hadn’t recognized the discordance for what it was. The pure phoenix essence had been corrupted by the evil of Sakarbaal.

  This recent disturbance wasn’t the same as before, but the subtle differences couldn’t disguise how the purity of the phoenix had been contaminated by something unnatural.

  If he could find the source, he’d be that much closer to discovering how Sakarbaal was infiltrating the astral planes with slivers of a phoenix’s soul.

  He followed the elusive signature, and unease stirred as he ascended through the myriad levels. He knew phoenixes could access the highest realms, and it appeared whatever had corrupted its essence hadn’t hampered this ability.

  As he entered the highest level, a rainbow starburst of energy shimmered before him, breathtaking in its beauty but at the same time a debilitating desolation slammed through him from the entity. Shreds of phoenix soul inextricably bound with humanity—yet it was something not human at all.

  The answer was in front of him, but it was hard to face. The tarnished soul tainting the phoenix didn’t emanate inherent evil. Even though it should.

  Because it was a creature that should never have existed.

  Dhampir.

  Even the most spiritually advanced mortals in the universe could rarely ascend to the highest level. But by harnessing the essence of the phoenix, Sakarbaal’s corrupted creatures had invaded the sacred realm.

  Whatever the vampire was planning, it involved more than Azrael had suspected. And he had the ice-cold certainty that time was running out.

  Chapter 15

  Rowan

  “Are you avoiding me, Rowan?” Meg entered Rowan’s bedroom without so much as knocking on the door first. She finished zipping up her boot, with its concealed dagger, and refused to glance at the vampire.

  Except evading the issue wasn’t going to make it go away. But it was more than that. She loved Meg. And deep in her heart she didn’t want to discover Meg had been instrumental in Steven’s death. Didn’t want confirmation that she knew no dhampir’s mother had ever survived the birth of their damned child.

  The gnawing suspicion that far from helping the victims of vampire rapes the Enclave was, somehow, behind the attacks haunted her. But even worse was the fear that Meg knew about that, too.

  How could she pretend everything was fine when in her gut she knew it wasn’t?

  Her days of believing everything she was told were over. They should have been over the night of Steven’s murder, but she’d chosen the cocoon of safe familiarity over digging for the unpalatable truth.

  Finally, she turned to face Meg, who looked highly irritated at having been ignored. “How did you know where to find me the night Steven was killed?”

  Meg’s eyes widened in obvious astonishment. She couldn’t blame her. The question had come out of left field and she hadn’t mentioned Steven’s name to her in years.

  “They called me. Told me where you were. What is this all about?”

  “Who called you?”

  Meg looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “HQ.” The heart of the Enclave. Here, in Grosvenor Square. “Who else, Rowan? They contacted me as soon as they heard from you.”

  “I didn’t call anyone. You arrived within seconds of Steven being attacked. I was still paralyzed with shock. It didn’t even occur to me to call anyone, let alone actually do it.”

  Meg didn’t answer but her lips flattened as though Rowan’s words offended her deeply. Then she stepped farther into the room and kicked the door shut with her stiletto.

  “What are you saying?” Her voice was low, deadly, her French accent more pronounced than Rowan could ever recall.

  She stepped towards Meg until only a couple of inches separated them. “I’m saying you were called before Steven was murdered.”

  Silence screamed between them, filled with countless accusations she didn’t want to voice, didn’t want to examine, but she had to know the truth. Scarlet flickered in Meg’s eyes and while she had witnessed that phenomenon countless times in the past, it had never been directed at her.

  It wasn’t directed at her now.

  “How can you be certain?” Meg’s words were a whisper in the charged air. “You were very young. It was so many mortal years ago for you. What’s happened, Rowan?” And then she gripped her hand as comprehension flared in her eyes. “You’re still seeing that one from the club, aren’t you? You’re afraid for his life?”

  She ignored Meg’s questions. “If it was the Strigoi behind Steven’s murder then the Elders knew about it in advance.” She hesitated, unsure whether to voice her deepest suspicion. “That’s if the Strigoi were behind it at all.”

  Meg’s grip tightened around her hand. “Who have you spoken to about this?”

  “Who do you think?”

  “Keep it that way.” It was an imperious command. “If Sakarbaal discovered you were even thinking such things he would have your head.”

  You can’t trust any of them. Brad’s bitter words echoed in her mind. Vampires won’t turn against their own for us. You have to remember that.

  Despite Lily’s harsh accusations she didn’t think she was completely gullible. Meg’s shock just now had been genuine. But that didn’t change the facts. Meg was a vampire and Rowan was only a dhampir. Unease slithered along her spine. Had she just made a terrible mistake by confiding in Meg?

  As she made her way to the underground tunnel that led from the basement of the mansion to the mews in the back street that had been converted into garages, she met up with Brad. She hadn’t seen much of him, either, during the last week, but he didn’t look in bad physical shape. Maybe he’d changed his mind about ditching the medication.

  She hoped to god he’d changed his mind about going to Romania.

  “You’re glowing, Rowan.” He sounded accusing.

  “I’m what?”

  “You’ve never been any good at lying. But if you don’t want anyone suspecting anything you’ve got to stop going around looking like”—his condemning glance flicked over her like a whip—“a Christmas tree fairy.”

  They marched through the tunnel for a few moments in silence. Finally, she couldn’t help herself.

  “Is it really that obvious?” She’d been so focused on ensuring she wasn’t followed whenever she met with Azrael it hadn’t occurred to her that her constant warm glow of excitement might be glaringly obvious to anyone who bothered to look at her.

  “Yes.” He slung her a sideways glance. “It is to me. It is to anyone who really knows you. Hasn’t Meg said anything?”

  “I haven’t seen much of her this week.” And when she had, how long had it taken her to guess she was seeing Azrael? A few seconds at most. Alarm streaked through her. She couldn’t afford to take any chances. “I’ll be more careful.”

  I have to finish this wonderful thing with Azrael. It would break her heart. But it might be the only way to save his life.

  But why? If the Enclave were behind Steven’s death, if they were behind the death of Brad’s lover, what was their reasoning?

  “What do you think he’d say, this guy of yours, if you told him the truth? Would he stick around?”

  She tried to ignore the hard knot of dread in the pit of her stomach at the thought of Azrael ever discovering her true nature. Even if they never saw each other again, she didn’t want his memories of their time together to be contaminated by that knowledge. “No guy in his right mind would stick around if I told him the truth. You know that.”


  They’d reached the garages. Brad turned and gave her a brooding look. “He must be something special if you’ve fallen for him. And if you have then he deserves to know the truth. Deserves to be given the chance to choose his future.”

  She gave what she hoped was a derisive snort. She couldn’t figure out whether she was more shocked by Brad’s casual assumption that she’d fallen for Azrael or his naïve conviction that a human might willingly choose to be with a dhampir. No one would willingly choose that.

  “It’s not like it’s anything permanent.” The words echoed in her mind, a hollow reminder of how desperately she wished it could be otherwise.

  Fallen for him? Who was she trying to fool? Of course she’d fallen for him. Hard. But it didn’t change anything.

  “But do you want it to be permanent?” There was an odd tone in Brad’s voice. “Sometimes you have to take a chance. I did. Told her what I was. And she was willing to do whatever it took for us to be together.”

  She stared at him, as his words spun around her mind in an endless refrain. He’d told his lover what he was, and she hadn’t run screaming for the hills? Was that even possible?

  “You—but—”

  “I’ve spoken to Sakarbaal.” His flat interruption strangled the words in her throat as another fear gripped her. The vampire lord had spent the last few days with the Enclave in Edinburgh. She hadn’t even realized he’d returned to London. Dhampirs didn’t speak to Sakarbaal to simply pass the time of day. There was only one reason why Brad was telling her this. Please let me be wrong. “When he leaves England, I’m returning with him to Romania.”

  Chapter 16

  Rowan

  The penthouse was sleek, with enviable views across the City. It was the early hours of the morning and only a faint glow from the outside world pierced the velvet darkness as Rowan methodically wiped blood from her katana.