Hell's Chapel (Shapeshifter Urban Fantasy) (Caith Morningstar Book 1)

by Celia Kyle

  “Me.” The single syllable hit her and then the gel was gone, his body ripped away and then a deep thump reached her.

  She sighed and turned to face the center of the suite. “Uncle Luc, this is a surprise. How are you?” He grinned at her. Probably because she remembered her manners. Mostly. “And what, by all that is the On High, are you doing here?”

  Her uncle flinched at the mention of his adversary and ex-home. She figured he deserved that little dig after denying her help when she was trying to avoid being zombie food.

  “I came to check on you.” He sniffed, nose in the air as he tugged on his cufflinks. On High forbid he stepped out of Hell looking anything other than his best. “I felt your pull and know of your little disagreement with the thelac warrior. I was going to dispose of him, but thought I’d ask first.” His smile widened, exposing his pristine white teeth. They had some kick ass dentists in Hell. “See how considerate I can be?”

  Caith rolled her eyes. “No, don’t kill the puppy.”

  “Fine,” he sighed. “Now, what about this one?” He flicked his hand toward the gel still pinned to the wall. “Can I send this one somewhere? He touched you and he is already half-fallen. I haven’t had one of those in a while.”

  She hated to disappoint her uncle, he looked so hopeful, but it wasn’t happening. “No, leave him alone, too.”

  He glared at her but waved his hand toward the angel and released him. “There. You ruined my fun. Now, mind telling me what is happening in your life? The thelac was a little flicker of flame, but you yanked on my realm so hard you nearly brought one of my demons to your side. Yet you did nothing with the fire.” Uncle Luc closed in on her. “You haven’t done that since Chicago. It would be nice to have a repeat of that little episode, infans.”

  She glared at him. Set an entire city on fire one time and it was thrown in her face for eternity. “Nothing’s wrong. I just had a little hiccup, but I’m fine.” She so wasn’t telling him the truth. Instead, she waved her hand toward the suite’s door. “You saw me using hellfire just fine a second ago. Everything is in perfect working order.”

  “Yes, but that does not answer my question.” He closed in on her and she took a step back. She wasn’t afraid of Uncle Luc really. She was just… afraid of Uncle Luc. “What caused you to pull from the ninth circle for no reason?”

  “Um…” Caith hadn’t realized she’d gone so deep. She typically stuck to the first or second circle and Uncle Luc was none the wiser.

  Thankfully-ish, the crack of wood and screech of metal cut off the rest of her words as the room’s door crumbled. In a blink she was shoved behind a large male, the broad shoulders and barely restrained strength making the pink parts of her ache. As that first bolt of arousal hit, it was then followed by a wave of disgust. Her uncle? She was lusting after her uncle?

  Gag.

  The man looked over his shoulder and his gaze clashed with hers. The gel blocked her view, not her uncle. Okay then, commence with the lusting and pink-part-aching.

  When the angel’s attention returned to the main entrance, she peeked around his body. Uncle Luc stood a few feet in front of them and slightly to the right which gave Caith room to see the entryway.

  To see it and watch… Papa Al—Alrick—stride past the splintered mess he created. She groaned and retreated to press her forehead against the gel’s back.

  “You shouldn’t make those sounds, amica. It gives a man ideas. Even if he is an angel.”

  Amica. Sweetheart. Right. She wasn’t anyone’s “sweetheart.”

  A deep growl reminded her they had an audience. When that sound was followed by a flare of heat, she knew her father and uncle were about to go toe-to-toe and she had to get her ass in gear.

  Stepping past the gel and nudging him aside when he attempted to keep her back, she moved to the two males about to do battle.

  Uncle Luc had a nice roar going. “She is my niece.”

  “Well, I’m her father. Caith is my daughter.” No one could deny Papa Al was right.

  “One father of many,” her uncle sneered. Well, he was right, too.

  “Only because your sister didn’t want her ending up an evil asshole like you.”

  Another point to Papa Al. Mom had really been trying to have a baby who wasn’t totally evil. Hence the hellborn mojo that gave Caith five fathers. Literally, five donors. She did not want to think about the messiness that accompanied her conception and as far as she was concerned, her conception included a petri dish, not a penis. Or five.

  The heat increased and sweat dappled Papa Al’s forehead. She noticed Uncle Luc’s narrowed eyes. “Did you just—”

  Hokay then. Caith placed her hand on her uncle’s forearm, wincing at the sting that came with touching the High Lord of Hell. “Let’s slow our roll here.” The heat grew even more. “Uncle Luc,” she stepped in front of him and blocked her father. “You both care about me, isn’t that enough?”

  The snort from the angel couldn’t have come at a worse time. The fiery gaze of her uncle swung to the man and Papa Al’s had as well.

  Papa Al began, “Who—”

  “—are you?” Uncle Luc finished.

  Caith slid herself between the angel and her family. “This is…” She gestured behind her, wracking her brain for his name, realizing he hadn’t actually introduced himself. “This is…”

  “Sam.” His deep voice rolled over her and Caith’s wolf whimpered.

  Stupid, stupid, horny wolf. Confused, she turned and gave him a questioning look. Kind of a bland name for a gel. On High wasn’t known for simple or generic.

  He just shrugged. “Samkiel, if you wanna get technical.”

  Right. Wonderful. Angel of destruction. At least the sword made sense now.

  “Right. Sam, meet my Uncle Luc and one of my fathers, Alrick Fallon.”

  The creak of dried leather announced that Sam stepped away from her and then his large form entered her peripheral vision. She turned her head slightly, giving her a better look at the large, alluring gel. He tilted his head ever so slightly. “Dark Lord,” he addressed her uncle, “and High Wolf, nice to meet you.”

  Yeah, Mom couldn’t bump uglies with just any werewolf, it had to be the biggest and baddest. Papa Al was the werewolf in North America. Hell, he often said he could have South America, too. He just didn’t want the bother.

  Both powerful males glared at Sam and no one said a word. The silence strained Caith’s nerves.

  “Look, either whip out your dicks and grab a ruler, or we can talk like reasonable adults.” All three males glared at her.

  Well, her uncle didn’t, but that’s because she was a little bit evil and uncaring. If anything, pride filled his features. Her dad, however, looked disgusted and Sam… was anything but. No, he was very, very interested in whipping his cock out. It wasn’t just his look that told her, either. It was his body, the way he breathed, the way he smelled. Her wolf was out in full force and each passing second increased her need for the angel.

  “Caith Morningstar!” Papa Al was obviously outraged.

  Uncle Luc chuckled.

  Sam merely whispered, “Anytime, amica.”

  At least she’d broken the tension. “So, Papa, Uncle, what brings you two to my door?”

  “I already told you, Caith.” Uncle Luc glared.

  “Eron called me,” Alrick snapped and Caith groaned.

  “Eron?” Of course, Sam couldn’t stay quiet.

  “One of my other dads. He’s Father Earth—”

  “Not Mother Earth?” Sam interrupted.

  Caith sighed. She’d explained this so, so many times. “Mother Earth is great, but she’s working with a limited reproductive system. Know what I mean?” If she stayed clinical, she might not be grossed out. “Whereas Father Earth can, uh, plant his seeds everywhere.” Nope, she got grossed out and fought the urge to heave. “Between him being my dad and the Father Earth gig, he can sense my emotions. H
e was supposed to contribute the whole nurturing-slash-love of nature genes.” She rolled her eyes and focused on Sam. “That hasn’t quite kicked in yet.” Turning back to her family, she gave them a rapid, if sugar coated, run down of events.

  “Green eyes?” Uncle Luc murmured.

  “Yes, green eyes.”

  “And they were aware?” Papa Al’s words held more than a little skepticism.

  “Very. The big guy nearly took my head off. On purpose. And I don’t think he had fresh brains in mind.” That was such a big deal in zombieland. Huge.

  “Hmm…” Uncle Luc turned to Papa Al. “The little tweens won’t talk to me.” He flicked a few fingers, gesturing toward the door. “Why don’t you speak with them? I’ll see to her protection.”

  Her uncle said the word as if tweens were lower than dirt. And since all five of Caith’s fathers were tweens…

  And the offended growl in three… two…

  Instead, Papa Al didn’t make a sound. He did glare though. “I’ll accept your dismissal. For now. But you and I will go claw to claw soon, asshole.” Papa Al stomped to her, and despite his fury, he cupped her cheek with a gentle hand. “You take care of yourself, baby girl.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and his love flowed over her in a gentle wave. It soothed the frayed edges of Hell’s fire as well as the bristling fur of her wolf and she released a soft sigh. “I’ll call you if I hear anything,” he murmured against her skin. When he pulled back, she knew he focused on Sam. “You’ll be here with her, Samkiel? You’ll use that sword of yours?”

  “Of course.” Those two words struck her soul and reassured her more than she liked.

  She didn’t need a man to take care of her, dammit. She opened her mouth to tell her father just that, but snapped her teeth together when she became the subject of his serious stare.

  Papa Al’s gaze searched hers. “If he’s what you want, Caith, take it. Your wolf knows. I know you hate it—”

  “No,” she shook her head. “I don’t hate my wolf. I just don’t understand her.”

  Hundreds and hundreds of years and she still didn’t quite get the animal inside her.

  “You don’t have to understand its desires. You just have to listen.”

  Desires… He really shouldn’t have said that word. Then again, her father knew her well and obviously knew Caith’s wolf wanted Sam. Hell, all of her parts wanted Sam in her bed.

  “I’ll call. Love you,” another murmur and then he was gone, striding through the suite, stomping over the debris until she could no longer see him.

  Uncle Luc clapped his hands together. “Now that the dog is gone—”

  “Uncle Luc,” she snapped. He may be the High Lord of Hell, but it didn’t mean he had to be an asshole.

  “I think it does mean that.” The tempting voice filled her ear and she realized she’d said that aloud. Nice.

  Caith groaned and dropped her head back. Instead of looking at the ceiling, her head thumped against a very wide, very firm chest, and she looked into a pair of all too tempting pale blue eyes.

  Her wolf whined and rolled to its back, baring its belly.

  She was in so much trouble.

  “Ahem.” Uncle Luc’s dry tone pulled her attention from Sam. “Tell your plaything to close his eyes.”

  “Uncle Luc, you can be a little nice—”

  “I can be exactly what I am. Now, tell the toy before I burn them out of his empty little head.”

  Ugh, her uncle was such an asshole.

  Sam chuckled and she wondered if she’d said that aloud. When her uncle didn’t snarl at her, she assumed she hadn’t. But how…

  Heat that had nothing to do with her uncle and everything with the gel, surrounded her. “Your anger, your annoyance… It’s in your tone,” he ran his nose along her neck like she’d seen wolves do. “Your scent.”

  She shuddered. Not from fear, but from desire. Dammit, she did not need this. Especially with a fucking gel, even if he was half fallen.

  The scent of sulfur banished the angel’s musk and she focused on her uncle as he repaired the door and then brushed the frame with ghosts. Actual ghosts.

  “Uncle Luc, you can’t leave them there.” She glared when he flashed her an innocent expression.

  The man hadn’t been innocent in his entire life.

  He huffed. “They won’t make a sound unless someone tries to break the barrier and these don’t have eyes or ears. They’ll simply sense the presence and shout.”

  At least he’d learned his lesson after that perverted ghost he tied to her bedroom door when she was sixteen.

  “You swear?” Her eyes narrowed.

  “On my own fires of Hell.” He pressed a hand to his heart. Or rather, where it’d be if he had one.

  “Good enough.” She jerked her head in a quick nod.

  “Call me if you need help.” He spread his arms wide.

  Caith rolled her eyes and stepped forward, allowing him to wrap her in a hug that was almost comforting. It totally would have been if it weren’t for the race of hellfire that accompanied the hold.

  “I promise. I’ll scream for you all.”

  “And we will come running, infans.” With that, she got another kiss to the forehead. Uncle Luc pulled away from her, flashed a glare at Sam, and was gone in a flurry of sulfur.

  “That was… interesting. Eclectic family.” Sam’s voice cut into her and her wolf rushed forward, aching for him.

  She fisted her hands, tightening until her nails dug into her flesh. Her skin itched and stung with her animal’s fight to be free. She knew what’d happen if the beast got control. She’d throw herself at the man. She’d drop to her knees and beg to be taken over and over again.

  Horny bitch.

  It agreed.

  “Yeah, it’s different,” she snapped, still fighting her wolf.

  “I’d heard the rumors…”

  All of On High, tween, and Hell had heard the rumors. It was what caused more than one cocky male to make a pass at her.

  Just because her mother made love with five men to conceive her didn’t mean Caith played that game. And it was making love. Mom cared for each of Caith’s fathers as much as the sister of Lucifer could. They still had their dicks when all was said and done, and for Mom, that was the closest thing to true love.

  Caith felt her hellfire stirring, sliding forward and lurking behind her wolf’s coiled form. “Contrary to popular belief, I am not my mother’s daughter. Orgies are not my thing.”

  “Good to hear.” He strolled forward, predatory menace in each step. He was so very, very dangerous.

  He closed in on her, until his warmth overrode the fires of Hell and his scent filled her nose. She was so aware of him. Every cell in her body called for him, his touch and taste. He leaned toward her, lowering his head until his mouth hovered above hers. Would he be sweet or smoky? She heard gels were all about purity and light, but he wasn’t a pure gel anymore…

  His voice sank into her, stroking every nerve as if it were his hand, and banking the fire that roared in her veins. “Because when I finally make you scream my name, there will only be the two of us.”

  The wolf said yes please, and when his orbs flared with red-hued need and he flashed her a smirk, she wondered if he’d heard the animal. Instead of commenting, he took a step back, stealing the comfort of his nearness.

  “You can have the shower first.”

  She licked her lips and shook her head, trying to banish the arousal that clouded her mind. “Shower?”

  “Shower. Quit looking at me like you want to eat me. If you don’t, I’ll taste you right here and now, Caith.” Aching desire filled his words.

  “But,” she blinked, still battling her want. “But gels don’t…”

  “No, but half-fallens know about pleasure. So, unless you want my hands on you…”

  Oh, she did. She very, very much did… Instead of succumbing to him, she went against eve
ry instinct. She did something she hadn’t done since she was a toddler playing with the pixie king, Papa Percy.

  She ran.

  Chapter Four

  Caith emerged from the bathroom wrapped in nothing but a white terrycloth robe she’d found hanging on the back of the door. Thank On High for efficient hotels. Her bag of clothes didn’t include comfy PJs or undergarments, so for now, she’d rock a robe and nothing else.

  She left the steamy warmth for the chilled master bedroom and found… a thoroughly cleaned Sam. His skin was free of zombie blood and gore as was his clothing.

  “I thought you were keeping guard,” she accused. Even with Uncle Luc’s wards, she worried they’d been tracked and he’d hunted down a shower of his own?

  “I did.” He swept his hand up and down, a gesture encompassing his body. “This is the beauty of being a gel. Instant cleanliness. It wouldn’t do for one of On High’s best—or worst—to be dirty.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “At least it saves on dry cleaning bills.”

  He jerked his chin toward the bed and she spied her clothing, fresh and clean. “I took care of yours, too. Couldn’t have that fine leather getting ruined.”

  Caith felt the same way. While fire could happily destroy zombie blood, it wasn’t exactly conducive to cleaning leather.

  “Thanks,” she murmured, unused to actually thanking someone for anything. Oh, there was Jezebeth, but the witch wasn’t “someone.” She was… Jezebeth.

  “Come eat, Caith.” His low words crept into her and forced her to refocus on him.

  “Eat?”

  “Eat. Even you have to eat.”

  She nodded. “And you? Gels don’t…”

  “No, not even half-fallen ones benefit from eating, but feeding…” Need flared in his gaze and his chest expanded as he drew in a deep breath. “That’s another story.”

  Caith looked her fill while he was distracted by his desire for her. He was even more delicious now that he’d shed the large jacket. His thin shirt clung to his chest, outlining every carved muscle. His leather pants traced his thighs, but the juncture of those legs interested her most. He was long and thick, the clothing capturing his hard shaft and hiding him from her gaze. Her body responded to his, nipples hardening and her center clenching, begging to be filled. She wanted him inside her. Her wolf craved his flesh. Her fangs would sink through skin and flesh, claiming—