“Sister, what do you want?” Nona asked.
“Nothing,” said Morta. Nona laughed. “Don’t laugh at me, this is a mess.”
“You are so transparent, Mort.”
“I’ve got to do something about this situation.” Breath huffed from her lungs. She was tired. If only everything wasn’t so damn difficult. Her heart ached to feel Uri’s arms around her and she wanted nothing more than to lie beside him, feel the warmth of his body. Be enfolded in his black-tipped wings. Love him.
Oh shit, the meshing!
Though Ramiel had pulled it off by sharing his angelic powers with Yael, two heavenly bodies meshed together exuded such power that it wasn’t allowed. She’d finally thought the words. What now? Once the idea ran loose in her head, there was no way to pull it back. Yet all he wanted was today. What about tomorrow, and the day after? Her hands rubbed together, clenched and opened. All in time to the beat of Nona’s wheel. Crap.
“Ram and Osce have been here.” Careful to make it a statement, she smelled their essence. They couldn’t have left too long ago, and why were they here in the first place? Something was going on, and Mort needed to know what.
“They left with Dec.” That wasn’t much to go on. Ramiel she understood. He had carte blanche to Michael and the Fates. He even had the Father’s ear. O shouldn’t have been here.
“Nona, are you going to make me drag it—” She stopped. No questions yet.
“What is it you’d like to know?”
One question, the Fates lived by the rule themselves if it involved their personal lives. Her mind whirred around and searched for the one thing she really had to know. So many things were important, which more so? Osce was often used as the angel’s hunter. Some trusted him with the welfare of their exulted when they left their domains for extended periods. Damn.
“Who are they looking for?” Mort prayed she’d asked the right question.
“Marmaroth.”
“What?” She had heard the Fate wrong. Impossible. Wait, Uri had Marcan. Oh hell. The shit was aimed at the fan.
“You heard me.”
“It can’t be. Why?” The glare she received reminded her that was a question. Nona would give her no more because this involved her and Uri. That meant the others were here to pay a visit to the Father. Uri had signed his own death warrant if he planned what she thought.
Her mind struggled with the information. Tales surfaced often about the one angel allowed to live on Earth long before the present day inhabitants. It was said Marmaroth had refrained from taking his one true love in the greedy fashion of most angels, so he’d been granted permission to have her because he asked.
Surely Uri wouldn’t dare try to control the Fates? Hell, yes he would. That’s just what he’d do. Mort’s throat worked to swallow the bile rising in her mouth. Her teeth ground together in anger. He’d bring harm to her sisters to hold her to him for as long as he wanted. Not while she breathed. She’d never allow harm or pain to come to her family.
The Fates, if thwarted, would live in misery and anguish for eternity.
“I can’t permit this.”
* * * * *
“You must give me the child’s soul, Yael.” Morta’s eyes followed Heaven’s newest angel as she walked to a sofa. She sat and patted the cushion beside her. “I didn’t come here for coffee-time chat,” Morta spat out. “Are you aware of what’s happening?”
“Do you remember a conversation we had not too many years ago? I believe you reminded me I was not a stupid woman. Neither are you, Morta. Sit, let’s talk.”
Yael’s gaze shined so kindly on her that Mort felt the color rise in her cheeks. This serene and regal woman would drive her nuts. There wasn’t time for this.
But she did remember that day. She’d told Yael to let Ram go. Is that what Yael intended to tell Morta now, to let Uri go? Oh, God, could she? He threatened her sisters, their very existence, but could she live without him? A chasm of pain opened inside and spread through her whole being at the idea of never having him again.
How had Yael kept strength and hope? And how had Morta ever suggested to this woman to let go of the one thing that made her whole?
“How did you stay strong? I’m so out of control I can’t think in a rational manner anymore.” Tears welled in Morta’s eyes.
“I can’t tell you what to do, but you must follow your heart.”
“Samael will not wait long. Uri is preparing to do something dire and I can’t allow it.” Morta rubbed her hands up and down ice-cold arms.
“Ram has already spoken to Sam. He will be patient a little longer.” Yael’s eyes bored into her. “You really must work through this. However it ends between you and Uri, it needs to stop.”
“I know, but I’m not sure I can be without him.”
“Then don’t be.” The woman grasped her hands, held them. “Things are changing rapidly. We all learn something new every day. Heaven struggles to keep up with humans and our responsibility to them. I think we’re doing well.”
“Yael, I’m sorry for what I tried to do to you and Ram. You’ve been the best thing to happen to us. You brought a breath of fresh air to the staleness that had settled on us all.” Mort brushed tears from her eyes as she thought back to the day she offered on behalf of the Fates to take Yael’s child after it was born in hopes Ramiel would forget Yael and his love for her.
“Things will work out, I’m sure. Now, I have to see to the children.” She stood and walked to the door. Her parting words sent Mort’s spirits soaring. “Have faith in Uriel. The meshing is meant to be beautiful.”
Uri tagged along with Luke. Maybe the devil would let something slip. Not likely but worth a chance.
No cool jazz or blues here. The club they sat in teemed with young people, and hip-hop blared from humongous speakers in every corner. Some guy with his cap on backward stood on a stage scratching the hell out of a vinyl record. The hellacious sound skittered across Uri’s nerve endings, and he rubbed the back of his neck to relieve some pressure.
“Loosen up, Uri. Shit ain’t that bad.” Luke smiled his way.
“It’s going to be. Sam will not be kept waiting much longer.”
“Well, you could be in luck. A couple big games this weekend and Dallas is playing too. That’ll buy you a few days.”
“I doubt a few days will be enough.”
“Whew, check out the blonde. Sweet.”
Uri followed the devil’s eyes. The cutter of the threads of life had taken such hold of his heart, a pang shot through him seeing the woman who resembled his Fate. “Yeah, I might enjoy a piece of her.”
“Liar, and umm… Brother, you don’t want to tempt fate?” Luke’s attention zeroed on something behind him.
Uri didn’t have to look. Her smell, the scent that kept him alive, wafted over him. Morta.
“We need to talk.” Morta appeared tense.
“I’ll see you both later.” The devil vanished into thin air, leaving a scorching heat in his wake.
“About?”
“Don’t play with me, Uri. I want to know about Marcan.”
“You don’t need to be concerned with him.”
“He is Marmaroth’s son.”
“Yes, he is, Morta.” Her woman’s scent coiled through his body, tying him in knots. She belonged to him and he’d never let her go. Not until he’d had his fill and he knew now that would be never. “I won’t hurt you, no one will hurt you. I won’t allow it.”
“They won’t let you get away with this.” Tears filled her eyes and wrenched him in two. He gripped the table top to stop from doubling over in pain.
“Why did you leave me?”
“Uri, please.”
“Come with me.”
“I can’t allow you to harm my family.”
He wanted her so badly. “Come with me. No magic, and I won’t ask for anything you don’t want to give.” Entering her mind, he found it in shambles, torn between him and her family. “Have dinner with me?
That’s all I’m asking.”
“Promise me you won’t do this.”
“I won’t do anything if you come with me.”
Chapter Seven
A fledgling ready to leave the nest for the first time would not be this nervous. If Uri’s wings were out, they’d be fluttering at hummingbird speed.
“Come on, you can do this.” Shit, now I’m talking to myself. Uri preferred wearing his shirts open, or he fabricated V-neck tops. He hadn’t worn a tie in over a hundred years but he refused to use magic in any way tonight. He wanted to take Morta out to a lavish dinner as a man would. Monkey suit and all. He gave up and let the blue-and-gray-striped piece of material hang down the front of his pristine white dress shirt. What was that thing called he used to wear? Cravat or something. Hell, he’d deal with it later.
Sitting in the winged-backed chair, he reached for the nearby shoebox. Men’s footwear hadn’t changed that much and these weren’t old. The black slip-ons had small leather tassels that would look spiffy with the finely creased charcoal pants and matching jacket. He liked comfortable shoes and wore them all the time with his slacks, unlike Luke and Sam who had taken to wearing leather boots. Gabriel, Heaven’s fashion police, had assured him the tailored suit he had decided on for the evening would never go out of style. He’d better be right. Uri wanted to see her eyes light up with pride when they saw him.
Finally dressed, and without thinking, he flashed behind his fully stocked bar. He’d forgotten that quickly. No more magic. At least for the night. Pouring two fingers of bourbon, he leaned his hip against the side and waited. What would she wear? He hoped something short and tight. That way he could see her long, shapely legs and watch her ass wiggle all night. And it had to be violet colored—like her beautiful eyes.
He readjusted his cock, which had swollen unbearably at the thought of Morta. He glanced into his glass. “This is fucking nuts.”
“What’s nuts?”
His head flew up. Chrissakes, he hadn’t even heard her arrive and he wanted to watch her walk in. Uri prayed the rest of the night wouldn’t be like this. Get it together. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I’m glad. That means you’re keeping your word of no magic tonight. That way it’ll be really special.” Her deep purple eyes glittered like diamonds.
How could he make the night after this memorable? And the next, and the next. This was only the first of many. Morta had promised to stay with him. Uri knew it was for the child’s soul and to keep him occupied, making it impossible to search for Marmaroth. Shit, he didn’t care. She was in his earthly domain, where he intended to keep her.
“Yeah, but I wanted to gaze at you with loving eyes when you walked in.”
Her laughter drifted from the glassed walls and set his heart racing as the room spun around him. She swiveled around on her high, spindly shoes and click-clacked right out the door.
What did I say wrong now?
The sound of her heels on the floor drew his attention back to the entrance. Oh Lord, she walked, no, she floated back in, and damn, she was magnificent. Her white hair hung down around her bare shoulders in a mass of soft curls. For the first time he noticed the lavender sheath-like dress clung to every curve and accentuated her porcelain skin. How she stood in the spiked silver heels was a mystery to him. She looked at least five inches taller. He would not have to bend far tonight to taste her painted red lips. His cock jerked to immediate attention.
“Satisfied?”
“Hell, yes. You’re beautiful, Morta.” Could she hear his heart beat? It would pop right out of his chest if he dared breathe. He had a long night ahead of him, one he would remember forever. Already he didn’t want to forget and it hadn’t even begun yet. “A drink?”
“Bourbon, please.”
Needing time to gather himself, he reached for the bottle and poured a shot. Angels, all heavenly bodies, drank mostly because they liked it. Unlike humans, no matter how much they imbibed, their faculties remained intact. If anything, it took the edge off just a little. Stepping from behind the bar, he carried the glass to her. The closer he got, her perfume mingled with her woman’s scent and washed over him. His hands shook by the time he reached her.
Morta’s fingers brushed his when she took her drink. She moved sideways and set the glass on an end table. His dick quivered before he felt drops gather on the tip. Uri had never been so glad he’d chosen not to go commando. Should have picked tighty-whities, they would have helped restrain him.
“Here, let me fix this for you.” Her hands moved to the front of his shirt and grasped his tie. Shit, he’d forgotten about that. She deftly flipped the material through her fingers. The top of her sugary white hair was level with his nose and the lavender aroma of her shampoo drifted into his nostrils. Yeah, a long night. “There, that’s perfect,” she said, patting the knot at his neck.
“Thanks.”
“You’re very handsome.”
The guys would have had a good laugh at how his spirits soared at those simple words. And if it would make her say them again, he’d wear a suit every day.
She picked up her bourbon and poured it down in one swallow, setting the glass back on the table. “One thing I’d like to change if you don’t mind?”
“Anything,” Uri mumbled. His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth.
Morta walked behind him and he felt her hand pull the leather hair thong away. “I want to see it free.” Her fingertips rifled through and fluffed his hair. Another drop slid from his penis. Damn.
Easing around to face her, he pulled her into his arms. “I don’t know if I can do this, Mort. You’re too fucking hot. My underwear is stuck to my cock.”
“This will make you feel better.” She grabbed his hand and shoved it beneath her dress. “My panties were useless the minute I put them on.”
“What are we going to do?” His fingers slipped under the elastic band and stroked her pussy.
She answered him by rolling her hips on his hand. “You need to stop that and we need to get out of here. Or we never will.”
“You smell good.” One last thrust of his fingers through her folds before he pulled them out. Bringing his hand to his mouth, he gazed in her eyes as he licked one, then two fingers. “And you taste good.”
Her throaty groan traveled around the room. “We’d better go.”
“You’re right.” He took her hand and started toward the door. “Aww hell. Mort, how are we getting there?” Uri hadn’t thought of that when he promised no magic. He should have planned better and stayed at one of his above ground homes. A limousine wouldn’t have been a bad idea either.
She grasped his chin and pulled his mouth to hers. After planting a chaste kiss on his lips, she grinned and twisted in his arms. “I got this one, lover.” Cool air surrounded them as they emerged from inside the earth. “I didn’t promise not to use magic.”
Morta whisked them into the warm night air and he was glad she didn’t dematerialize to the restaurant. That would have been too fast. He wanted to hold her in his arms for as long as he could. The stars were brilliant tonight and he saw every single one of them. He wished she was facing him, not enclosed in his embrace with her back against his chest. His cock nudged into her butt, jumping slightly and causing her to laugh. The gleeful sound shattered the silence. It was infectious and soon had him joining her.
Uri didn’t even feel foolish. He felt lucky.
They plopped down in front of an Italian restaurant on South Ninth Street in Philly. His pleasure at her choice rippled in his voice. “How did you know?”
She turned to face him. “That Italian food is your favorite? Or that this is your favorite Italian restaurant?”
“Both, I guess.” At a loss for words, he hugged her to him and tugged her long hair from behind before he squeezed her ass cheeks. “Nice.”
“Two can play that game.” Mort rubbed a hand along his length, setting his blood to the boiling point. She chuckled when he moaned.
“You’ll pay for that.”
“Mmm, I hope.” She slipped out of his arms and walked toward the door. Her ass swung saucily in front of him. “You coming?”
“Yup, one hell of a long night.” Uri followed his Fate.
* * * * *
Morta had lost her mind. At least what little was left. The minute she had entered the room and saw Uri behind the bar, she was a goner. Not that she hadn’t already been. The day she laid eyes on the angel of repentance centuries ago, it’d only been a matter of time.
Tonight his dark blue eyes swallowed her up. She slipped into them like a pair of well-worn fuzzy slippers. They were warm and welcoming. His striped tie lay undone already around the crisp white collar of his dress shirt, making him appear ready to undress. Moisture gathered in the second pair of panties she’d worn tonight. The whole time she bathed and dressed he had held the uppermost part of her thoughts. She never did get her nether lips dry. She hadn’t even tried to sneak up on him at his house. The fact Mort caught him completely off guard endeared him to her all the more and insured him a solid place in her heart.
Uri really intended to keep his promise to her not to use magic tonight.
Mort was glad she had unbraided his hair. When he rifled his hands through it, pushing it from his face, the chiseled angles of his cheeks really showed up. A strong, straight nose sat above the most luscious pair of lips she’d ever seen on a man. Her fingers itched to touch them and slide inside to be nibbled on. His deeply tanned skin was hot, a definite counterbalance to her coolness. His raw, masculine scent reached her nostrils and damn near made her swoon.
Morta told herself repeatedly while she prepared for their evening out that she was doing this only to keep an eye on him to make sure he did nothing stupid.
She’s the one who had acted impetuously. Every day she woke beside him would be another nail in her coffin. She was absolutely sure of one thing—she belonged to Uriel. Body and soul.
Repent in Love Page 7
