Seven Seals, Books 1 & 2

by Traci Douglass

  “It’s not the travel I’m concerned about,” he said, chucking another bale of hay.

  The powerful stench of barnyard prevailed and Divinity wrinkled her nose. She loved all the souls in her creation, but some of their byproducts left much to be desired. She folded her hands and waited for her warrior’s decision, confident in the final score.

  Without preamble, Chago stalked past her and out into the nearby pen. Soon the low roar of moos grew louder and he peeked his head around the door. “Unless you want to get trampled, I suggest you move.”

  Amused, Divinity walked to the opposite side of the enclosure to wait as the herd filled the stalls. One tiny calf trailed behind the rest, glued to Chago’s side. She watched him scratch the small bovine behind the ears and feed him an apple before sending him into a pen with a larger female, presumably his mother. Her imposing combat warrior cooed and played with the animals like a dotting father. His gruff exterior hid a generous heart.

  “In deference to your aversion with our normal modes of transport, I’ve booked you on a commercial flight later this morning.” She joined him at the enclosure and ignored his irritated glare. “Your target is on the same flight. How you get to the airport is your problem.”

  A heifer nuzzled her elbow and Divinity reached through the bars to rub its velvet-soft nose, pensive as she closed in for victory. “Don’t jeopardize this, Chago.”

  “There were complications last night. Emotional complications.”

  “Permanent retirement should be incentive enough to keep your distance.”

  “And I punched her boss in the face. Laid him out cold.” His hands tightened on the rusted metal railing. “The bastard tried to rape her.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you were there to stop him then.” Her gaze fixed on the cattle, Divinity focused her thoughts on the future. “She’ll need your protection now more than ever.”

  Chago poked the hay near his feet with the toe of his boot. “Maybe I’m not the best person for this job. After all, I failed once before. People died.”

  Pink hues of sunrise flooded the open doorway. Divinity smiled and slid the plane ticket into the pocket of his denim jacket. Things were progressing better than planned. “Don’t fail again.”

  • • •

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Archon pushed into the borderlands of Gehenna, driven by the incessant beat of drums calling him to liberation. Had it only been two days since his escape from the filthy prisons at Sheol? Time lost meaning in this desolate wilderness. Drained and exhausted, he pressed on toward his chance at vindication.

  Thirteen-hundred-years he’d waited, suffered under Lucifer’s brutal thumb for his opportunity. He refused to squander the chance now, no matter how much he longed for rest. Archon had inherited too much of his father’s reckless ambition to succumb so easily.

  His bleeding toe-claws scraped against the arid soil, leaving a dark green trail for anyone to follow. Archon didn’t give a shit. He knew the border angels had tracked him from the start and reported his status to Divinity. Right now, freedom was all that mattered.

  Wind gusted hot and sent a shower of sand into his eyes. He rubbed a mottled, purple hand beneath his nostrils and squinted ahead toward the horizon. One lone peak stood like a dark sentinel, his ticket out of this eternal abyss.

  Archon sniffed and slogged ahead once more.

  A glance at his hands revealed the evidence of his recent crimes. Minion blood stained his skin and caked beneath his razor-sharp nails. He’d taken many lives over the course of his existence, but none so sweet as those of his father’s hired tormentors.

  High-pitched sirens blared from somewhere behind him. Archon ducked his head lower and increased his stride. His muscles screamed in protest, but he couldn’t afford to linger. Pain seared along the gash in his thigh where his thick hide had been shredded. Years of attacks had left him all but immune to his jailer’s paralyzing attacks, but still his father persisted. According to Lucifer, agony built strength. If the words were true, Archon should be undefeatable.

  Faint chanting joined his guiding chorus, more lyrical than the fervent drums. He’d not heard such music since before his mother had died. Beautiful Eloa, the angel of sorrow and Lucifer’s fallen lover, had held Archon close and protected him from his father’s jealous wrath. She’d made the ultimate sacrifice for her son. Now, he would make her proud.

  He reached the base of the towering black monolith just as brimstone exploded from Sheol. His father must have discovered Archon’s gruesome departing gift—the head of Molloch, his father’s esteemed personal guard, wrapped in a nice package of the bastard’s own entrails and jammed atop the pointed centerpiece of Lucifer’s sacred alter. Nothing said ‘fuck-you’ better than personalized desecration.

  THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

  The drum cadence increased as the portal approached. Archon glanced toward the top of the bluff and the menacing swirl of clouds above the summit. Not long now.

  Words of dark magic and voodoo joined the hypnotic rhythm and chants. Energy prickled his skin. An ear-splitting boom rent the air and the gates of the prison tore from their hinges as the demon guards emerged, headed in his direction at astonishing speed.

  Before they could intervene, lightning bolted from the tempest above and tore through the top of Archon’s skull, knocking him to his knees. Everything went black and still.

  The next time he opened his eyes, Archon stared into the shocked face of a painted tribal shaman. His catalyst had worked. Spells had transported into the Earthly realm.

  Chapter 5

  Irena uncrossed her legs and checked the time again.

  She hated airport lounges. The chairs were always so damned uncomfortable. After a yawn and a stretch, Irena tucked a leg beneath her, flipped to the next page in her magazine, and took a sip of soda.

  An ad for the latest adventure movie caught her eye, her attention snagging on the rugged face of the film’s star. As she perused the man’s chiseled jawline and sharp gaze, her thoughts drifted yet again to the man she’d met days before.

  Chago seemed . . . different.

  Her line of work presented an assortment of run-of-the-mill dictators or military strongmen, with the occasional businessman and corporate giant thrown in for flavor. Yet her new acquaintance seemed a separate species of animal altogether.

  To say he’d been out of his element during the fundraiser—with his constant fidget and his overabundant bar visits—would be the understatement of the millennium. An underlying current of danger sizzled through his movements, like a trapped beast waiting to be freed. Chago reminded her of a sleek cat, with his penetrating gaze and the most impressive build she’d ever encountered.

  Someone with a luggage cart moved past and bumped her bag on the floor. Irena bent to set it upright and glanced across the room toward the ticket counter. What she saw made her stop short. The world seemed to jerk to a stop then whirl into fast-forward chaos. Irena pried her damp fingers from the smudged pages of the magazine and took a deep, steadying breath.

  Chago finished speaking with the clerk, stuffed his paperwork into the back pocket of his jeans and scanned the waiting area. Irena looked away quickly and focused on her soda cup, attempting to stop heat from flooding her cheeks at the thought of their previous night’s brief interlude.

  “Mind if I sit here?”

  Damn. Her gaze flicked up to his smiling face and her cool reserve shattered. She gave a slow motion nod as he removed his jacket and flopped down into the seat beside her. “Small world, si?”

  “Apparently.” Despite Irena’s best efforts to restrain her nervous tension, her voice squeaked out a full octave higher than normal.

  “Interesting read?” Chago leaned closer and peered at the magazine on her lap, his expression disparaging. “Those movies are ridiculous. Unrealistic crap. Besides, that guy’s an ass.”

  She gazed at the glossy advertisement then back at him. “Maybe. But he’s an ass who’s
made a hell of a lot of money playing those roles.”

  “No accounting for taste, I guess.”

  “What exactly are you doing here? Other than stalking me.”

  “Querida, if I did stalk you, you’d never see me coming.” Chago flashed her a self-satisfied smile and her breath hitched. His gaze dropped to her lips and her reality tilted on its axis. He met her agitated stare once more, this time holding a tad longer before looking away. “Same as you. Going to Kinshasa.”

  “Why?” Irena demanded, supicious. “The Congo’s not exactly a tourist hotspot.”

  “I’ve got business there,” Chago said, diverting his attention toward a couple with a baby across the aisle. Irena took the opportunity to study the lines of his rugged profile. No two ways about it. He was gorgeous. But gorgeous didn’t guarantee safety.

  “What kind of business are you in, specifically? You never did share any concrete details with me.”

  He ignored her question.

  After a childhood spent dealing with the Serbian army’s barbaric manners, Irena detested any type of rudeness. She eyed the half-full soda in her hand and considered dumping the contents into his lap. Maybe that would get his attention. The cup teetered at the edge of her fingertips, ready to pour. At the last second, Chago shifted his laser-sharp focus back to her and ruined her plans. Damn. The idea of the man beside her soaked and stripped had been most appealing.

  “If I remember right, there were many things I didn’t get to share with you last night.” His voice dropped to a whisper and his glance held hers before traveling lower.

  Irena looked away, unable to deal with the reminder of their indiscretion at present. “Don’t change the subject. Are you following me?”

  “Hardly. I have legitimate concerns in Africa. The fact we ended up on the same flight is nothing but coincidence. Besides, if I were following you, what would you do?”

  “I’d warn you not to proceed.” Irena assessed him with a glacier-cold stare. “The Omega Consortium—and Drake in particular—are not fond of intruders. Despite last night’s debacle, they’re ruthless in the pursuit of justice. Don’t interfere.”

  “And who defines their justice?”

  “Drake. After a lot of intensive research and consultation, of course.”

  “Of course.” Chago snorted, his tone beyond snide.

  “Drake’s good at what he does, and he’s very passionate. Sometimes he just gets carried away.” Irena scanned the pages of her magazine without reading them, appalled by her own statement. Why the hell was she defending that asshole?

  “Si, he’s a real prize. He would’ve raped you if I hadn’t been there.” He watched her beneath hooded eyes, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. One of his booted feet extended over into her personal space, bold as brass.

  “I’m not a complete idiot. I can protect myself. I’ve been in some of the worst war zones in the world and picked up a few tricks along the way. Don’t worry about me.”

  A set of multi-colored plastic baby keys clattered down onto the armrest between them, interrupting her tirade. Chago unfolded himself from his seat, grabbed the keys, and moved across the aisle to return the toy. The infant giggled up at him, basking in his attention.

  A tiny flutter of misplaced envy glided through Irena’s stomach as Chago returned and set about organizing his travel documents.

  To find an unattached, attractive male who was neither gay nor horribly strange these days constituted a near miracle. She tried to keep her attention covert, but he seemed to sense her gaze anyway and scooted nearer to her with a stealth belied by his massive size. “Cute kid.”

  “Do you have children?”

  “Nope. Cattle.”

  “Cattle?”

  “Yep. When I’m not on location I’m working on my Rancho Sagrado.”

  “Hmmm.” Not what she’d envisioned in his downtime. “Where exactly is this sacred ranch?”

  “Montana.” He smiled and closed his eyes, his expression relaxing into peaceful satisfaction. “Near the Rockies. Out in the middle of blessed nowhere.”

  She’d always wished for someplace to make her feel that same way. “Sounds wonderful.”

  “My ranch is the most beautiful spot on earth. The land goes on forever with nothing around for miles. Total perfection.” He cracked open an eye and peered at her. “Probably not your kind of place, eh?”

  She smiled and tossed her empty soda cup into the wastebasket beside her. “Despite the impression I might have given you last night, I think your home sounds like Heaven.”

  An overhead announcement stated their flight was ready to board. They rose in unison and gathered their belongings before merging into the line beside the ticket counter. In such close proximity, Chago’s body heat radiated into her back. Irena struggled to remain unaffected. She’d never encountered such a complicated mix of man and warrior.

  The line moved forward and she noticed the family with the stroller in front of her. The baby looked over the man’s shoulder and gave her a toothless grin. Irena waggled her finger to coax the infant to giggle.

  Chago leaned in closer behind her, his warm voice fanning over her cheek. “He likes you.”

  With sudden intimacy, his hand slid to the small of her back and his long fingers massaged her knotted muscles in small, lazy circles. Heat rose in her cheeks and she struggled to extinguish the zing of desire short-circuiting her spinal cord. Despite her efforts, Irena surrendered to his ministrations.

  “Next.” The woman at the counter gestured for her ticket.

  He gently but firmly pushed her forward to the counter. Out of sorts, Irena’s toes clunked into the bottom of the agent’s desk as she handed over her paperwork. The attendant scanned her boarding documents and waved her through to the ramp. She waited for Chago to join her and they boarded the plane together.

  Passengers jostled to find their seats. One couple ahead broke out into a rousing argument, and the husband’s patronizing attitude reminded Irena of Drake prior to his meltdown. Unlike Chago, her boss’s touch now made her yearn for a Hazmat suit and a steamy shower. The memories of his attack brought an abrupt end to her romantic daydreams. Men in general were resolutely off her menu for the foreseeable future.

  Irena shoved her bag into the overhead bin, slid into the window seat and turned, her hand thrust out for a final farewell. “This is goodbye. Nice to see you again.”

  “Sorry, querida.” Chago placed his carry-on beside hers. “Can’t get rid of me that easy.”

  He eased in beside her and perused the safety manual. She fastened her seatbelt, lowered the armrest, and pressed into the wall—anything to create the illusion of space between herself and the enigma to her side. Takeoffs were stressful enough without having to deal with him in the process.

  “I don’t bite you know.” Chago glanced her way and grinned. “Unless you like those sorts of things.”

  “You’ll never find out.”

  The pilot released the brake and the plane jerked into motion, taxing toward the runway. Irena pulled the window shade down tight.

  “Too bad, querida.” He reached across and raised the shade again.

  “Stop calling me that.”

  “Stop calling you what, querida?”

  “That!” Irena crossed her arms and stared straight ahead. “I’m not your darling.”

  “Hmmm. How about diablita? Most appropriate.”

  “You think I’m a little devil, huh?” Right. One irate bitch cleared for takeoff. The pilot’s voice crackled through the overhead PA system and her nervous energy spiked. “How’s this for hellish?”

  She twisted to land a sucker-punch to his stomach. He caught her fist mid-strike and pinned it to his thigh.

  “Irena.” Her name rolled off his tongue in an intoxicating blend of prayer and pure wickedness. “Better?”

  Her own voice seemed to have vanished and Irena could only manage a dumbfounded nod in his direction. Chago smile
d and closed his eyes, relaxing back into his seat with her hand still clutched in his.

  After the heat of the exchange wore off, Irena regarded him. His strong jaw showed a bare hint of dark stubble beneath, the hue a perfect match to the black inkiness of his hair and brows. Thick lashes most women would kill for fanned out atop the jut of his high cheekbones and the straight blade of his nose angled proud above a sensuous mouth. Those lips pulled into a knowing smile and her gaze flicked up to catch his icy-hot stare. Busted.

  “Like what you see, diablita?”

  “You never did tell me about your line of work.”

  The plane accelerated and gravity jammed her into the seat. As the aircraft lifted off the ground, she squeezed her eyes shut while her stomach lurched to her toes. The pop in her ears drowned out the pounding of her heart and her death grip on the armrest persisted through the plane’s initial assent.

  As they reached cruising altitude, sudden warmth covered her clammy flesh and gentle fingers reached beneath her wrist to stroke her agitated pulse.

  Chago leaned into her, his breath tickling her cheek as he murmured close to her ear. “Relax, querida. My business is protection.”

  Chapter 6

  Chago woke to a pleasant weight on his chest and the smell of fresh flowers. He opened one eye and peered down at the top of the Irena’s head snuggled beneath his chin.

  At some point during the long flight, she’d cuddled up beside him. He grinned. Surely she would lash out at him like a viper if she had any idea of the way her full breasts pressed against his chest or how her scent derailed his thoughts. Her warm exhalations flowed across his neck and sent a delightful tingle to the pit of his stomach. It had been too long since he’d enjoyed the pleasures of comfort, of connection.

  He rubbed his tired eyes and conducted a quick scan of the cabin. Most of the other passengers were asleep or reading. The plane struck a blip of turbulence and Irena mumbled into his chest before burrowing deeper. He pulled the lap blanket higher around them and snuggled down. His movements caused her to grasp the front of his shirt like a desperate child. He kissed on the top of her head and closed his eyes. Maybe this final mission wouldn’t be so awful.