Soul Betrayer: An Urban Fantasy Reverse Harem (Ubiquity Book 2)

by Allyson Lindt

  “You would have said the same thing about Ariel twelve hours before she tried to destroy you,” Michael shot back.

  Hurt bled through Ronnie. “You’re the one who knew every location. Seems like the odds are far better it was you.” She snapped her jaw shut, but she could’t take the words back. Might as well finish the thought.

  “Is this your way of proving what you’re doing is right?” Tia asked. So she did know Michael had killed Vine. “You know what? I don’t care. You can go fuck yourself.” She looked at Ronnie. “Don’t become one of them. Please.” She vanished before Ronnie could retort.

  Ronnie stared at the spot where Vine stood moments earlier.

  “I had to do it,” Michael said. He kept his distance. “You know what would have happened otherwise, and every time I don’t stop one of them, the repercussions are worse.”

  Ronnie knew that was true. She didn’t like it, but if Vine couldn’t be kept in hell, what other choice was there? “Irdu wasn’t involved in this any more than you were.”

  “Are you certain?”

  She whirled, letting her rage flare in licks of red and gold. “I’m positive. There are days I still question who I am and what my own motives are, but Irdu? I never question him. This isn’t...” It couldn’t be. Jealousy? “Because he and I are together.”

  “No, it’s not. Someone did this,” Michael’s voice was infuriatingly calm. “They set us up, and they knew too much about the situation. If you trust him, so do I. And I want to help you get to the bottom of things.”

  Ronnie scrubbed her face. This was crumbling in so many ways. She wanted to tell Michael to fuck off. She didn’t need his help if he was going to cast doubt on anyone on their side. His concession to back off would have to do for now.

  Chapter Twenty

  Ronnie couldn’t sit still. Several hours after the incident in California, nervous energy compelled her to pace the living room. Michael was listening, and that helped. If she had to keep this all in her head, it might drive her insane. Again. She wasn’t okay with Vine being gone, or with Michael’s accusations, or that none of the pieces she had fit in the puzzle.

  “It’s circumstantial evidence”—she forced herself to stop, if for no other reason than to prevent wearing a hole in the carpet—“and it’s no more likely than if Tia did it.”

  “How do you know it wasn’t her?”

  She glared at Michael. Why was he still here? Because he had knowledge. And even when he was being an asshole, he was an honest one.

  Michael sat on the couch, looking as tense as Ronnie felt. “I believe you. I already said I did.” His voice was strained. “You know Ubiquity as well as I do at this point. Who else is on the possible suspect list?”

  He’s trying to help. He’s trying to help. He’s not helping. “I don’t know.”

  “No guesses at all?”

  “Tia saved Izzy. And you heard Irdu this morning. He meant what he said about burning the world to the ground.” She itched to tell him who Tia and Irdu really were. That she didn’t know a single other agent who had less of a stake in the matters of heaven and hell. But that wasn’t her secret to share.

  “She may have put him in danger in the first place.”

  Ronnie growled. “And what do you know about it?” She couldn’t keep the irritation from her voice.

  Michael furrowed his brows. “Izrafel told me.”

  The reminder of Izzy, and that he wasn’t talking to Ronnie, added another layer of stress to the heavy ball sitting in her gut.

  “I’m simply playing devil’s advocate.” Michael sounded sympathetic.

  It didn’t help. “Don’t. It doesn’t suit you.” How did her world go from car shows and cotton candy and rediscovering each other, to this, in less than a day?

  “All right.” He stood, closed the distance between them, and searched her face. “I’m trying to get you to look at this from a different perspective. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

  It was. “Neither Irdu or Tia is behind this. If you’re going to keep pushing it, you can go.”

  “I believe you.” He sounded sincere. And unlike with Lucifer, it was pretty easy to tell when Michael was lying. “I’m looking at this from the outside, and they’re the only variables I see that I’m not familiar with. I meant it earlier. If you trust them, so do I.” He took her hand. “Come sit down.”

  The contact, familiar and safe, soothed her more than she wanted. “I’m good here.” She didn’t pull away.

  He squeezed her fingers. “I don’t have a motivation for why Vine did this today. Or Ariel, or any of them. It could be a drive for power. That’s almost what Gabriel did.”

  Back to motivation for destroying buildings—the conversation she preferred to have. “Maybe they lost their sanity. Too many voices in their heads.” As she said it, something hovered just out of her grasp. What was it? “I know from personal experience, having that extra personality up there can wreak havoc on a mind.”

  “How close did you come to wiping out a city block?”

  That was a fair point. “I almost cut down Raphael because he pissed me off in the office. I tried to kill you twice.”

  “You pulled your swords. It’s not the same, and that wasn’t you.”

  “If cherubs are driving them out of their minds, they’re not themselves either. Why are you fighting me on this?”

  “I want answers as much as you do.” He raised his free hand, but dropped it again without making contact. “But I want them to be the right answers. I’m not sure you’re looking at this objectively.”

  A tiny part of her argued he had a good point, but she wasn’t in the mood to listen. “It was me who drew the swords.” She struggled to keep the petulance from her voice. Michael of all people should understand she wasn’t some faker in this role. “I never pull my weapons unless I intend to use them.”

  “That’s not you. That’s Metatron.”

  “Fuck. You know how this works. You’ve helped others through it. I am Metatron. Why don’t you get that?”

  “You’re not.”

  “Yes. I’m Metatron. I’m Uriel. I have their memories. I lived their lives. I have their power.” She didn’t know what else to say to make herself clear.

  “AND YET, YOU TALK ABOUT them in third person.” Michael almost felt Ronnie’s frustration. It blasted out in waves every time she spoke. He didn’t want to aggravate her, but some things couldn’t be left to temper and chance. “You’re Ronnie.” The true impact of those words clicked in his head. He struggled last night—and in Moscow, and in the months leading up to this—to figure out whom he was distancing himself from. Now it made sense.

  “Ronnie is both of them,” she said.

  He’d avoided reaching out, to prevent her from feeling he patronized her, but seeing the frustration and anguish on her face, he couldn’t help himself. He cradled the back of her neck, to look her in the eye, and kept his tone calm. “I know. And yes, you are both, but you’re also more than the sum of their parts. You didn’t stay stagnant after they became one. You’ve learned and grown and changed since. You’re like a complex compound.”

  She rolled her eyes, but the tense cords of muscle beneath his palm relaxed. “No fair throwing sciency terms into the intangible.” She sounded frustrated, but her voice stayed steady.

  “Am I making sense?” He stroked his thumb along her skin where jaw met neck.

  “Fucking asshole. Yes. I still want a motivation for why Vine—or any of them—did this.”

  He was about to tell her they’d find the answers to both, when someone knocked.

  An irritated grumble rose from Ronnie’s throat.

  “You might as well answer it,” Michael said.

  She squeezed his hand, then pulled away.

  “Why aren’t you answering your phone?” Lucifer’s familiar voice reached Michael’s ears before he saw his colleague.

  Ronnie stepped aside and opened the door wider. “It blew up.”

/>   “That must be one hell of a story...” Lucifer trailed off when his gaze met Michael’s. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

  There was a bit of that going around. “You didn’t ask.” Ronnie kicked the door shut behind him and crossed her arms.

  “Because you weren’t answering your phone. Is this getting repetitive? Not only the conversation, but also him”—Lucifer nodded at Michael—“being back. Again. What about Irdu? And I thought you and Michael were doing the whole I never want to see you again, for the greater good thing.”

  Was that jealousy in his voice?

  Michael had said that. So much had changed, but he hadn’t. Or had he? If Ronnie was different, maybe he was learning to accept some things too. It was odd to think he could make that kind of shift after millennia. Could he allow himself to love someone—her—and not be tempted to fall?

  “You’re here for a reason?” All of Ronnie’s frustration from earlier spilled back into her voice.

  Lucifer raised his brows. “You need to turn on the news and— You don’t have a TV. How did I forget that?”

  “I don’t know. Too busy keeping secrets to remember reality?”

  This was getting awkward. Michael should leave.

  “You’re going to want to stay.” Lucifer looked at him.

  Was Michael that predictable?

  “What news?” Ronnie’s voice rose in volume.

  “Any of it. Samael is freaking out. Raphael has been calling me all afternoon. Would you like me to keep going down the list of upper management who are bothered by this?”

  Was Lucifer was getting some kind of perverse kick out of stretching out this conversation? At least that would be predictable. Except it meant Lucifer wanted Ronnie on edge, and that made no sense.

  “I want you to tell me what this is.” Ronnie spoke through clenched teeth.

  Lucifer handed her his phone.

  She scanned the screen, eyes darting back and forth. “Oh shit.” The fire vanished from her voice in a whisper.

  It seemed the day could still go downhill.

  “Yeah.” Lucifer took his phone back and pocketed it. “You on this?”

  “What am I supposed to do?” Ronnie asked.

  “Make something up. Tell the best fucking story you’ve ever told. Lie.”

  Arm at her side, Ronnie clenched her fist so tight her hand shook. “How do you know I won’t be telling the truth when the press release says, This is a coincidence. We can’t cover everything?”

  “Is it?”

  “Fuck.” Ronnie rolled her head. “I’m on it.”

  “You’re having marketing write you a press release. Art-film it and release it?”

  Michael felt like he was watching a tennis match.

  “No. I’m doing it myself,” Ronnie said.

  “Of course. Now you want to keep secrets.” Lucifer’s tone stayed pleasant, despite the tension in the exchange.

  What did that mean?

  Ronnie turned away and headed toward her laptop. “Are you done?”

  “For now.” Lucifer vanished.

  “Fill me in.” Michael wasn’t sure now was a good time to ask, but with the stress thrumming through Ronnie, he had to do something. If this got them closer to answers at the same time, that was an added bonus.

  She clicked through her computer as she talked. “Some local news program in Nevada ran a story about the explosions this morning, asking why Ubiquity didn’t have any record of these seemingly unrelated events. Why they don’t show up in our search engines, what with all the explosions being identical and happening around the world. Why, in this age of instant information and internet streaming, weren’t we returning any information at all?”

  That sounded suspicious. “You had it all pulled?”

  “Irdu put something in place for me. Fuck.” She drummed her fingers on the desk while something loaded on the screen. “How did someone put this all together? How did anyone else know about this?”

  Michael was searching for an answer, when her speakers crackled to life. The audio was filled with static, and poor quality, but the words were clear. “...already in the midst of a federal investigation, Ubiquity is not only withholding information from their investors, but also filtering what the rest of the world sees. It’s clear this behemoth of a corporation is hiding something from the general public. But what is it?”

  That explained the shift in her mood. “Technically, Ubiquity is hiding almost everything from the general public.” Michael wished he could take the words back as soon as they were out. There were more tactful ways to put this. “It’s not as if people are going to believe angels and demons sit behind desks all day, keeping tabs on the world through a massive data center.”

  Leaving the news running in the background, Ronnie turned to face him and rested her weight against the desk. “Wouldn’t that be one hell of a motivation for whoever’s behind this?”

  “Exposing our existence to the world?” The idea left a bad taste in Michael’s mouth.

  “It doesn’t make any more sense to me than destroying things does.” Ronnie spun her chair and dropped into it. “I have to write a press release, apparently. But I’m not going on camera. Being the boss has some perks—I get to make that call myself.”

  Michael knelt in front of her and grasped her hands. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Keep me company so I don’t crawl into my own head and drive myself insane with questions that don’t have answers?”

  “Absolutely.” He stood and turned the chair and her toward the computer. “Get writing.” He settled his hands on her shoulders and kneaded his thumbs into her neck, loosening the knots running underneath her skin.

  Her groan of satisfaction flowed through him, kicking his pulse up a notch, and turning tension into something more intense and passionate. She leaned her head back. “As much as I appreciate the thought, I won’t get any work done if you keep doing this.”

  “Fair enough.” With monumental reluctance, he broke away. He resisted the desire to kiss her neck. If he started, he wouldn’t want to stop. To help keep temptation at bay, he settled on the couch.

  For the next couple of hours, Ronnie did a lot of mumbling, a bit of bouncing sentences off him for a second opinion, and a fair share of typing. Finally, she declared it done and wheeled away from the desk.

  When she stood and stretched her hands above her head, elongating every inch of her body, Michael couldn’t pull his gaze from her curves.

  “What?” She dropped her arms, and a flush rushed onto her face.

  He rose and moved toward her. “I thought I remembered how gorgeous you are. It haunted me for months. The memory? Pales in comparison to the reality.”

  “Flatterer.” The pink on her skin darkened.

  He cupped her cheeks. “I’m being sincere.” Some temptations couldn’t be ignored forever. Like the scent of caramelized sugar that crackled around her, spiking each time her mood shifted. He kissed her, and sweetness flowed through him, carried on the softness of her lips and made more delicious by the whimper that escaped her throat.

  She rested her palms flat against his chest, and the heat seared through. She broke the kiss and met his gaze. “This has yet to end well for us.”

  “I know.” He didn’t want to have this conversation. He wanted to press her against the wall, strip off her clothes, and feel her wrapped around him. “I can’t begin to guess how things will go this time. I can’t make any promises.”

  She gripped his shirt. “And the only reason you’re watching me like I’m a lollipop for you to unwrap, is because the last day or so has been stressful, and this is an outlet.”

  “It’s not the only reason. It does add to the intensity.”

  “As long as we’re on the same page.” She relaxed her arms, though not her grip, rose on her toes, and kissed him.

  When she draped her arms around his neck and pressed into him, he lost any hope of backing out of whatever came next.
/>   Chapter Twenty-One

  In her time with Irdu, Ronnie had experienced a lot when it came to sex. He never left her wanting. But he also wasn’t Michael. Being with either of them was equally incredible, but very different. She had yet to find something that could fill the void Michael created when he left.

  It was why she surrounded herself with people who radiated happiness and lust; she could never recreate for herself the intensity that spilled from a human when they desired.

  Michael knotted his fingers in her hair and crushed his mouth to hers. Something in her chest snapped, and that missing something flooded her skin. Her nerve endings. Her every thought. The scents of fresh pine and sunshine filled her nostrils. She could sink into this and be happy never emerging.

  He yanked her hair and deepened the kiss. A whimper tore from her throat. She had memories of the night they spent together a few short months ago, but they were diluted by the perspective of two different minds. This was all her, and the uncut contact was new and intoxicating. She dragged her nails down his back and under his shirt, drawing him closer, needing to feel more.

  When she dragged her fingers along his bare skin, memorizing each contour and reflex at her touch, he growled against her mouth. He broke away to strip off his shirt, before pulling her in again. He lowered his mouth to her neck, kissing and then sucking on the tender skin. “A lollipop, is it?” His words hummed through her.

  “Or something else sweet and lickable.” More of her bold wit evaporated each time he touched her.

  He alternated licks and kisses along her collarbone, as he glided his hands under her shirt and up her sides. “You paint delicious pictures with metaphor.”

  Everything felt and tasted and smelled distinct, as if a filter had been removed from her senses. As clothes came off, and he guided her toward the bedroom, anticipation built inside.

  She hesitated at the foot of the bed, and he propelled her forward, urging her to lie on her back. He crawled toward her, his gaze tracing every curve and nuance of her body as he moved. He kissed her navel and followed a path up her chest, until he claimed her mouth. He tasted like candy and smelled of pine and felt like satin sliding against her.