by ML Guida
“You don’t want me?”
Was he kidding? Who wouldn’t want a movie star Angel of Death? But it wasn’t real. “I told you, Lethal, it’s not real.”
“If it wasn’t real,” he said, “Balthazar wouldn’t be determined to kill you.”
Chapter Two
Lethal followed Cupid down the golden corridor to find Gabriel. He couldn’t help but admire her sweet ass and her curves. It had felt so good kissing her, exploring her mouth. She brought sunshine to his glooming darkness. She didn’t know about death, about fighting, about evil. She was all about love, something he wanted more than anything. He’d known for awhile that she was his angel-mate, but he’d kept his distance. The pull inside him to claim her was strong. Blood rushed through him, and his heart pounded faster and faster, drumming the words claim her, claim her, over and over gain. Yet he’d turned yellow-bellied whenever she was near. He pretended not to see her, to ignore her loveliness, but each time, her sexy scent called out to him. His cock and brain demanded he’d stake his claim, but he cared for her too much to give into temptation and sign her death warrant.
His fight had been for nothing. The damn arrow must have released his essence, and Balthazar picked up on it. He’d been trying to protect her, to ignore her, forget her. Each time was harder and harder. The drive in him was strong, and he didn’t know how much longer he could resist her charms. And now, he’d put her in real danger.
She reached to open the door to the Grand Hall where the archangels were holding court, but he reached past her hand.
“Allow me.”
He inhaled her scent of magnolia. It reminded him of cherry blossoms sprinkled with vanilla drops. Blessed Heaven, he licked his lips, wishing he could suck her luscious skin to see if she tasted as good as she smelled.
She brushed past him. Worry lines carved deep into her forehead. He followed close behind and put his hand on her lower back, escorting her into the chamber.
Michael, his boss, sat on his throne, looking thoroughly bored. He’d dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. His sword, Excalibur, was strapped to his side, and he kept caressing the hilt. This wasn’t what he liked to do. He’d rather be out fighting than listening to squabbles among the human souls in heaven. But Saint Peter insisted he do so.
“How many more of these do I have to listen to?” Michael grumbled.
Raphael held a list of the petitions and wore a crooked smile on his face. He looked like a smart-alec sixteen year old with his Denver Bronco jersey on and torn jeans, but his young looks camouflaged his power. He was old, very old. His sword, Magic, was strapped to his back. “Four hundred and twenty-seven, dear brother.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Raphael laughed. “As always.”
The doors slammed shut, and everyone turned to stare at Cupid and Lethal.
Michael scowled, and Raphael lifted his eyebrow.
Cupid stopped.
Lethal bumped into her, and she staggered. He grabbed her arm to keep her from falling. “Why did you stop?”
Fear flickered in her eyes. The poor minx. His boss must scare the happiness right out of her.
“Is something amiss?” Michael perked up. He’d do anything to get out of doing this dreary job.
Cupid trembled. “Um...um...”
She stopped closer to Lethal. He could feel her beating heart, and her sweat released more of her luscious scent. He drew on all his self-control to keep from whirling her around and kissing her. Michael gave him a knowing look. He knew. Damn it!
Lethal had to find Gabriel fast, before he gave into his instincts. He scanned the room, but didn’t see Cupid’s boss. “We were looking for Gabriel.”
Michael waved his hand. “He’s not here. He’s in the library.” Disappointment echoed in his voice.
Obviously, his boss was hoping that Balthazar had created some kind of mischief that would allow him to dodge his dismal task. “Come on.” Lethal grabbed Cupid’s shaking hand and led her out of the Grand Hall. “Michael won’t hurt you.”
“He will when he finds out what I’ve done.”
He pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. It was so silky. He wanted to undo her clip and run his hands through her hair. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Cupid.”
She grabbed her dark brown hair and whisked up into a loose bun. “I’m not your mate. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
His resolve weakened. He lifted her chin and kissed her frowning lips. “Actually, I was in the right place at the right time.”
“You’re not listening.” She pulled away. “Come on, hurry. Before Michael’s done.”
She hurried down the hall to the library. Lethal shook his head. He should tell her the truth, but he wasn’t sure even if he did that she’d believe him. She was convinced it was the arrow.
In the library, Gabriel the Archangel was reading as usual. He read everything he could get his hands on. His wavy blond hair curled at the nape of his neck. He’d worn linen pants, and his legs were draped over an overstuffed chair. He slammed the book shut and sat straighter. “You did what?”
Cupid hung her head. “I’m sorry, sir.”
His black shirt opened, revealing his Sacred Medal in the shape of a heart. He fingered it. “Sorry isn’t going to fix it.”
Gabriel’s scowl would rival Michael’s when Lethal had made an infraction. Not wanting Cupid to receive the same wrath, he stepped in front of Cupid. “Gabriel?”
The archangel raised his eyebrow. “Here to make excuses for her, Angel of Death?”
Lethal wanted to slap his smirk, but he was an archangel. He might look like an absent-minded professor, but he was far from it. Still, Lethal wouldn’t let him punish Cupid, not if he could help it. “She didn’t make a mistake.”
Cupid touched Lethal’s arm, her hand trembling. He clasped it, hoping to send her reassurance.
“Yes,” Gabriel said. “She did. She shot—”
“Me.”
Gabriel leaned his head back on the chair. “I didn’t say it was with you, you arrogant fool.”
Cupid lifted her head. “What?”
Gabriel looked hard at Lethal. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”
Lethal stilled. He knew. All his secrets. “No, I didn’t.” Lethal turned his head away. He couldn’t face Cupid. He should have told her.
“Then, I suggest you do it now.”
“Lethal? What is he talking about?”
Her small voice sliced his heart. He forced himself to look at her. “Your arrows don’t work on the Angels of Death.”
Confusion flickered in her eyes. “Yes, they do.”
“No, they don’t.” Gabriel picked up his book and put it gently back into the bookcase. “They’re a higher angel, so our arrows aren’t effective.”
She lowered her head. “Oh, I didn’t realize that.”
Lethal lifted up her quivering chin. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“You’re not finished telling her everything.”
Dropping his hand, Lethal glared at Gabriel. He didn’t want to tell Cupid like this. It wasn’t going to come out right.
“Fine, I’ll tell her.” He waved his hand at both of them. “You two have been destined to be together.”
Cupid’s face paled. “Our names?”
Gabriel leaned against the bookcase. “They’re written in the Book of Love, if that’s what you mean.”
She looked at Lethal. “Why didn’t you claim me?”
He had to push her away again to keep her safe. “Isn’t it obvious?”
She blushed fourteen shades of red. “You’re embarrassed, aren’t you?”
“No.”
She jerked her hand off his arm as if it were on fire. “You’re a liar. You don’t want to claim me, because I’m a Cherub, and no one in your great order has ever lowered themselves to date one. For your information, love is greater than death.”
Lethal winced. His arm grew cold whe
re only moments before her small hand had given him warmth. “I couldn’t tell you. I wanted to keep you safe.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He kept his arms pressed to his side, afraid he’d rattle the woman until she listened to reason. “Are you deaf? You heard Balthazar. Do you think he was kidding?”
“No, but you’re mistaken. We can’t be angel-mates, because I would have known.”
Gabriel thumbed the books on the shelf as he walked toward her. “That’s true, Cupid.” He stopped and glared. “So, tell me, why did you shoot Cameron with an aversion arrow?”
She met Gabriel’s accusatory stare. She must be scared, but she held her head high. “I should have told you. I’m colorblind.” Her cheeks turned bright red.
No pity flashed in Gabriel’s eyes. Instead, they darkened and turned stormy. “By keeping your disability a secret, you almost cost a girl her life and a boy his soul.”
She bowed her head. “I’m sorry. I swear it won’t happen again.”
“You should have told me. Liars aren’t tolerated on my team.”
Lethal clenched his teeth. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means if she mixes up the arrows, she’ll be off my team.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“Oh, and your boss is forgiving with any mistakes you’ve made.”
“That’s different.”
“How dare you!” Cupid punched his arm.
“Ow.” He rubbed the spot where she’d slammed her fist into. His little minx was surprisingly strong. “Why did you hit me? I was sticking up for you.”
“First of all, I don’t need you fighting my battles. I can fight my own. Thank you very much.” She paced and back and forth. “We might not be as high as you, but what we do is valuable.” She pointed at Gabriel. “His team is just as important as yours.”
“I didn’t mean to insult you.” Lethal reached for her, but she flounced out of the room and slammed the door.
“You can’t keep hiding.” Gabriel picked out another book then replaced it again. He tapped his chin as if he looked for something else to read.
“Will you stop looking at those damn books? You sent me to that location, didn’t you? You knew she’d be there.”
He shrugged. “What if I did?”
“I can’t claim her. It’s too dangerous.”
“Because of Balthazar. Because you’re an assassin.”
Lethal stilled. “How did you find out? No other archangel knows our identity.”
“True, but Saint Peter does.”
“You went to him?”
“When you refused to acknowledge Cupid was your mate, I confronted Michael, but it was like trying to get James Bond to give up the secrets in MI-6.”
Lethal folded his arms across his chest. “So?”
“Saint Peter gave me special arrows that would release your mating drive. All Cupid had to do was shoot you with one.”
“How’d you know I’d be there? Any Angel of Death could have been there.”
“I knew Cupid would be going back to fix her mistake.”
“You knew she was color-blind? Then why did you—”
“I can’t tell you all my secrets, dear boy. You must trust faith. Angel-mates cannot be denied. One will start to fade without the other.”
Fear slid down Lethal’s spine. “Cupid. She’s—”
“Not her. Cupid is too full of love and goodness. No, my dear boy, it’s you. You’re not as fast as you used to be. If you were, Cupid’s arrow never would have hit you.”
Was the archangel telling him anything new? His reflexes had been less responsive, no matter how much he worked out. But he wouldn’t admit it. If he did, Michael would take him off the team. He shook his head. “That was pure luck.”
“Is it? Your fading allowed Balthazar to track you. You’re an assassin. He never should have been able to find you.”
“He must have been waiting for Betty Ann, because—”
Gabriel flicked his hand. “Her name was never written in the Book of the Dead.”
“Then why was I bloody sent there?”
Gabriel didn’t answer.
“Shit, it was a set up.” He frowned. “But Michael gave me the order himself.” Dread smacked him in the heart. “He knows I’m fading?”
“He only knows the order to send you came from Saint Peter, even though Betty Ann’s name wasn’t written in the Book of the Dead, but he suspects. Only your angel-mate can restore you to your full strength.”
“If I do, Balthazar will track her.”
“He’s already hunting you. Don’t you think he knows you’ve lost your edge? Without Cupid’s love, you’ll never defeat him.”
“There is a way to keep her safe. She can never leave heaven.”
Sadness flickered in Gabriel’s eyes. “She’d never agree to that. She loves what she does.”
“I don’t care if she does. On Earth, Balthazar can find her, hurt her, because of me.”
“You can’t make her stop doing what she loves. Any more than she can stop you from what you love to do.”
Love wouldn’t be the word he used to describe his job. It was something he had to do. Without assassins, rogue angels would corrupt Earth. “You can order her to stay here. Have her do something else?” He gestured to the Book of Love that lay on the table. Gabriel never went anywhere without it. “You can have her hand out the orders to the other Love Angels. She’d still be involved, but she’d be safe.”
“I could, but I won’t.”
“Why the hell not? You’d rather put her in danger.”
“I’m not trying to save Cupid. I’m trying to save you. She has powers you’d never understand.”
Lethal snorted. “She’s never fought a demon in her life.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. She has powers. Unknowingly. That’s another reason why Balthazar wants her so badly.”
“Is she the one Cora was talking about?”
Gabriel walked toward him. “I thought you were trying to look for an angel named Bo.” His voice was on the verge of being mocking.
“If she was the one, Michael would have never sent me hunting this angel. You’re trying to tell me you know something Michael doesn’t even know about.”
“I didn’t say that.”
Lethal detected a slight tremor in his voice. He’d lied to Michael? Ballsy. “You’d better hope you haven’t kept a secret from Michael.”
“Are you threatening me?” As he spoke, the lights dimmed, and Gabriel appeared to grow taller. He flashed out his magnificent pearly wings.
But Lethal refused to be intimidated. “It’s your funeral. Michael’s the most powerful angel in heaven, and he doesn’t have a sense of humor. Ordering him on a merry chase to find something that doesn’t exist is like jumping into the lion’s den.”
“I’m not afraid of Michael.”
Lethal looked at him hard. A slight drop of sweat rolled down his forehead. So, he had lied to his boss. Fool. “Michael is going to love it that you treated him like a stooge.” He narrowed his eyes. “No one has found this angel. You don’t think this angel exists, do you?”
He sat on the chair, crossed his legs, and rested his ankles on the table. He spread out his arms. “Now, why would you think you’re hunting a phantom?”
“Because you archangels are full of games. So, if it’s not an angel, is it a human?”
“No, I don’t think so. Cora said Bo, correct?”
“Yes,” he drawled. “Why?”
“If the obvious isn’t possible, then you need to look at the impossible.”
“Why do you archangels always speak in riddles?”
“It keeps us from getting bored.”
Not caring if he got thrown into a heaven’s cell, Lethal went nose-to-nose with the archangel. “I’ll go to Saint Peter myself, and he’ll order you to keep Cupid under wraps. And tell me the answer to your idiotic riddle.”
A knowing smile sprea
d across Gabriel’s lips, and his silver eyes twinkled. “Go ahead, dear boy, but you’re wasting your time.”
Chapter Three
Lethal hid in the alley, waiting for the damn jazz club to close. He wrinkled his nose at the stench. Heaven’s Saints, he swore he smelled piss. He’d bet urine and filth were sticking to his oxford shoes. Why would Hans, the traitor, pick such a disgusting place? Trash overflowed from a rusty bin. Broken glass was scattered on the pavement, and he’d lost count of the number of cigarette butts strewn around.
The longer he stood there waiting for the arrogant S.O.B. to come out, the better chance Cupid had to escape heaven and work her job. Balthazar would have no problem tracking her down. How had he gotten such a stubborn angel-mate? She wasn’t his yet, but the arrow had released something in him. He couldn’t take his mind off her. No woman—angel or human—had ever distracted him like that curvy temptation.
But instead of protecting or seducing her, he got stuck on going on another of Michael’s assignments. He’d made Lethal an offer he couldn’t refuse. Work or lock up.
He rubbed the hilt of the sword. “Come on, Hans. Get your ass out here.”
The lights on the club shut off, and people wandered out: couples, drunks, and one strutting fallen angel.
Hans flipped up the collar on his leather jacket. He’d cut his hair into a mohawk and pierced his eyebrows with spiked rings. He’d gone from skinny angel nerd to punk rocker wanna-be. He tossed a pair of keys into the air and strolled toward a parked Porsche.
Lethal shook his head and stepped out of the alley. “Really, Hans? Dying your hair purple? Is that the style they’re wearing in hell these days?”
Hans jumped back. “Lethal, what the hell are you doing here?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I have my orders.”
“Of course. I’ve always suspected you were an assassin.”
“Well, aren’t you the smart one.”
Hans pulled a wicked-looking, skinny dagger out of his leather jacket. It gleamed crimson in the moonlight, as if it had been dipped in blood. “But you don’t think I’m just going to stand here and let you kill me.”
