He wanted to draw it out, but he knew that he couldn’t—and anyway, it wasn’t as if this was the only time they’d be fucking during the week.
When Baxter came, he arched back, feeling his muscles tense as his cock almost throbbed with the intensity of release, and he felt warm sticky fluid on his hand as Liam came as well. Both of them yelled wordlessly as they came, cries of passion and love.
Liam collapsed on his stomach on the bed, and Baxter landed half on top of his beloved and half on the bed. He kept one hand on his lover as he pulled out of him and rolled onto his side. “Fuck,” Baxter said, “that was incredible.”
Liam turned his head and gave Baxter a very sweet smile. “It was amazing. And I’m so glad we’ve got all week to do it again and again.”
Baxter returned the smile. Then he reached over and touched Liam’s neck. “I really made a mess of you there, babe.”
Liam shrugged. “It’ll heal.” He reached out, resting a hand on Baxter’s hip. “When we get our breath back, I’l cook dinner, then we can fuck again.”
Baxter couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “I’d like that. A lot.”
“Good.”
Baxter basked in the warmth of the love he saw shining in Liam’s eyes as they gazed at each other, and despite the problems and dangers he knew they would be facing as they all worked together to stop Transom Corp, he knew that his oasis of peace, happiness, love, and acceptance was right here in Liam, his lover, his mate. As long as they were together, well, everything would be okay.
Keep reading for an exclusive excerpt from
A Fire in the Heart
Archangel Chronicles: Book Eight
By L.J. LaBarthe
Emotions run high as Archangels Gabriel and Michael join forces with their Brotherhood and their old allies, the Archdemon Guild of Glass Knives, to fight the new forces of terror that threaten the world. Loyalties are tested and loves are strained, some to breaking point.
This time, the threat is from a new direction, and no demons or rogue angels are involved. As their quest for victory continues, Gabriel and Michael and their al ies find themselves drawn into the murky world of crime and speculations where who lives and who dies is determined by cash.
As all seems hopeless, their every measure failing, Gabriel and Michael must comfort one another and their loved ones. But even as they do all they can to save the world, can they save their love?
Coming Soon to http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
AHIJAH SAT on the edge of the small dock, dangling his feet into the waters of Lake Titicaca. He was deep in thought, not noticing the play of sunlight on the undulating lake surface or the cries of waterfowl overhead. He could feel the heat of the sun on his back and the annoying yet persistent buzzing of flies as they butted their heads against his face in greeting. It was a calm, idyllic day, Ahijah thought, a day where he should be rejoicing in the simple pleasure of being alive.
Yet with all that had happened in the last few months, he wasn’t sure if celebration was appropriate, or if perhaps he should not be weeping for the losses and pain suffered by so many.
That damn war. Ahijah’s thoughts turned to the Seventy Years War, now three years over, gone but not forgotten. He remembered the days after World War Two, when humans had said that it was the worst war in history and nothing would ever come close to repeating the sheer scale and magnitude of pain, suffering, genocide, and violence.
They’d said that about World War One, too, calling that one the war to end all wars, but it hadn’t. War hadn’t ended, merely changed, weapons growing more and more refined and more and more destructive. The human capacity for violence had always frightened Ahijah, for he knew that humans were made of God, as a manifestation of the divine, and if this was what they did on a regular basis, then what would God do if so inclined? He’d thought about that a lot over the years, until the year 2012, when the Seventy Years War had broken out, and even his own immortal understanding of human conflict had been shattered by the violence that had spread across the globe with the speed of a wildfire.
Ahijah kicked his feet in the water and sighed. His people, the Nephilim, had hidden themselves here, away from all angel and demon kind, and eked out a life for themselves. That life had not been glamorous or exciting, but it had been theirs, and Ahijah had been content. And then along had come the war and with its aftermath—once demons and angels and the allies of both had raged over the surface of the planet—had come new dangers, new intrigues.
“I’m too old for this,” Ahijah muttered to himself. It struck him as an amusing conceit that he, the son of a rogue angel and a human woman, made immortal by virtue of his father’s genes, could think of himself as being old. Truthfully, Ahijah knew he was long past being simply old. He was ancient, almost as old as the planet itself. He and his brother had been born and raised in the city and gardens of Eden, with Archangels as tutors and mentors, and tigers and lions as pets. It had been a fairytale childhood, marred only by the presence of their father, Semjaza, Grigori Prince, now dead and gone, his soul languishing in Hell. But this, this brave new world, the shaky, cautious humanity that emerged after the end of the Seventy Years War was nothing like anything Ahijah had seen before. The war had been so all- encompassing that everything had seemed to stop—no advances in science, medicine, technology; literature, art or music, the focus solely on surviving—seventy years of stasis in human growth. Ahijah imagined it must feel a little like stepping off a precipice when the war ended and humans found they had time to do things again; things that didn’t involve hiding, running away, dying or being tortured.
And then the Holy Grail had been stolen. Ahijah shook his head as he thought about that. The Holy Grail was a myth, he’d always believed, and then suddenly, it wasn’t a myth at all. On the heels of Semjaza’s passing—and Ahijah had no sadness or sorrow for his father;
Semjaza had been a tyrant to his children as he had to his wife—the Holy Grail seemed to be a promise of a bright, golden future of peace and prosperity for all, angel, human, monster, demon and beyond.
Michael had said as much and Ahijah took great comfort from remembering the words of the chief Archangel, his oldest mentor and teacher. Michael had said that now there was a peace treaty between Hell and Heaven, something that Ahijah’s fellow Nephilim had found difficult to process. All of them being the half-breed offspring of angels and human women, for them, the conflict between angel and demon was almost rooted in their DNA. Now it had stopped. Lucifer and God had a peace accord. Angels and demons worked together for the good of all. And why? Because God and the Devil were tired of war and thought they’d give peace a chance.
Which was a lovely idea, a beautiful sentiment, but Ahijah was far too cynical now, after years of roaming the Earth as a vagabond, disguising his Nephilim nature and hiding from angels and demons who wanted to kill him for what he was. Ahijah didn’t believe in such a thing as peace, love, and acceptance for all. For one thing, humans still managed to hate each other for the most ridiculous of reasons, and angels still hated demons and vice versa. Monster clans kept away from each other, shifters avoiding naiads, dryads avoiding vampires, and so on. Maybe, in time—a very, very long time—that peace idea would take proper root and be the norm, but Ahijah didn’t have faith that it would happen any time soon.
And his dark thoughts had been proven right, by the appearance of a company called Transom Corp., a company that seemed to want to profit out of misery and pain, merge humans and demons and monsters into nightmares and set them up as guardians of all gates and portals between Earth and every other reality in existence. The sole reason for this was hate, as far as Ahijah could tell. Transom Corp. hated angels, demons, anything not entirely human—which included Ahijah himself—and wanted them off the planet, never to return. Earth for humans and animals and plants, not for anything the least bit mystical.
He’d heard the tale of what Michael’s Venatores unit had found from Remiel, who had been sober-fa
ced and sorrowful as he had told it to Ishtahar, Ahijah’s mother, and Hiwa, Ahijah’s brother as well as Ahijah himself. It had been a terrible tale, and Ishtahar had wept and asked Remiel to take her to help Raphael with the wounded, but Ahijah privately thought that this was just another attempt to shake off what some believed to be too great an influence by non-humans.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
Ahijah almost jumped out of his skin at the voice of his brother, and he swore sulfurously as Hiwa sat down beside him, grinning.
“You could have warned me,” Ahijah said. “I almost had a heart attack.”
“So I saw. It was pretty funny seeing you jump like that, Ahi.”
Ahijah rolled his eyes. “Not for me, it wasn’t.”
“You were thinking deep thoughts,” Hiwa said. “I could see you getting tense. Don’t think too much, you’ll give yourself a tumor.”
“That’s not how… you know what? Never mind.” Ahijah ran a hand through his hair and looked at Hiwa. Hiwa wore a plain white t- shirt and faded blue jeans. His arms were elaborately tattooed in black ink, and more tattoos peeked above the neckline of his t-shirt. Even his hands, Ahijah realized, were covered in tattoos. Hiwa’s black hair was tipped blond and his deep golden skin had the tanned tone to it that comes only from spending long hours outdoors, working in the open.
He was lean and muscular, looking both perfectly relaxed and ready to uncoil like a tightly wound spring.
“You are worrying about things beyond your control,” Hiwa said.
His voice was slightly accented, a legacy of spending centuries in Russia, Ahijah assumed. “You cannot change the past, my brother. You cannot change the future, either. We have been asked to help our uncles and comrades in this latest battle against the darkness, and yes, it is a new darkness, given that it comes from humanity and not from Hell or Purgatory, but we will do it because it’s the right thing to do and because we can.”
“I know.” Ahijah sighed. “I was just thinking about how the world has changed since the year 2012.”
“That’s a lot of change,” Hiwa said.
“Yeah. And okay, I hid myself away here in this village with our people, but it was necessary. Do you know how many Nephilim went mad, Hiwa?”
“A lot. Yes, I do know. I work for criminals, Ahi, not idiots. I have some people keeping me up to date with things, and it is those people I have reached out to now about this new problem. Transom Corp. is now TCC Corp., which is a ridiculous name change as it isn’t much of a change. And I have news.”
Ahijah quirked an eyebrow at him. “I’m not going to like it, am I?” “I doubt it. You were always the gentler one of us. You saw more good in people than I ever did. That has not really changed.”
Ahijah let that slide. “So what’s the news?”
“The TCC Corp. board seems to be comprised of an interesting mixture of humans, including two witches, a wizard, a cow shifter, a bunch of scientists, a history professor, two pastors, and some investment bankers. They know that Uncle Mike and the others got all that information out of the mountain with his Venatores, and they know that we know a great deal about their mission. They don’t seem too upset by that. They seem to be far more interested in Uncle Gabe’s friends, Max and Minnie, and being able to shield themselves from them. Those two humans seem to have quite a reputation.”
“All right, well, none of that sets off alarm bells,” Ahijah said, “so what is it that I’m not going to like?”
“I’m getting there. They’re still doing their experiments with the demons and humans and monsters, making them into patchwork livestock for the purpose of cutting Earth off from the other dimensions. One of the scientists suggested kidnapping an angel or two, but the others talked him out of that, reminding him of how that whole angel kidnapping thing worked out for Sebastien when he grabbed Uncle Raph and Auntie Agrat.”
“Are they thinking that kidnapping is a good way to hold people to ransom for good behavior?” Ahijah rolled his eyes.
“Yes, actually. They want us. Nephilim.”
Ahijah stared at him. “What?”
“Nephilim.”
“They do know that we’re Heaven’s least favorite, right?”
“Oh yes, they’re aware. They also know that mama is beloved by an Archangel and loved by all of them—and a good chunk of the Archdemons, too.”
“Then why are they thinking this asinine idea is a good one?”
“Because they know that the angels won’t kill them in order to get us back to make Ishtahar happy. Mama would be very upset if anything happened to us, you know.”
Ahijah groaned. “What a mess.”
“Yeah. I called Uncle Mike and told him. He said Uncle Sammy will be around soon to add to our protections here, and we’ll go from there.”
“Okay. How did you find out about all of this, Hiwa?”
Hiwa grinned, an expression that looked like that of a hunting shark. “Like I said, Ahi. I work with criminals, not idiots.”
Ahijah couldn’t stop the shudder he felt.
“You’re the good son,” Hiwa said, “I’m the bad son. Oh, don’t look like you just bit into a sour lemon. It’s not as if mama loves you more than me or anything, because she doesn’t, that’s bullshit. She loves us both equally. It is just that you do good works, here for our people and for the whole of humanity, and I do bad, bad things with bad, bad people.”
“You could change, you know,” Ahijah said.
Hiwa gave him a blank look. “Why would I do that? I like my life.” “If you say so.” Ahijah caught Hiwa’s expression, the flicker of annoyance over his face, and rushed on, “I believe you, I do. I didn’t mean to sound trite or as if I didn’t believe you. I believe you do like your life, and you have fun. I just don’t understand what it is about it that appeals to you so much, and not understanding things makes me uncomfortable, so that’s why I said what I did.”
Hiwa’s face cleared. He smiled at Ahijah and moved closer, looping one arm around Ahijah’s shoulders. As he had when he was very young, Ahijah leaned into his brother, resting his cheek on Hiwa’s shoulder and soaking up the comfort that came with having a badass big brother who would cheerfully beat the crap out of the bullies and defend his family to his last breath.
“We might disagree on things like that,” Ahijah said slowly, “but you’re still my brother. You’re still my best friend.”
“Same here, Ahi.” Hiwa’s voice was soft. “You just keep in mind that if you need anything—anything at all—you call me.”
“Okay.” Ahijah smiled. “Thanks.”
“De rien as they say in France. I know you need to be reminded about how awesome I am. You have the welfare of your flock on your mind a lot of the time, after all. It is natural that you forget the most well-known and obvious truths in life.”
Ahijah laughed. “Okay,” he said again.
“Okay,” Hiwa agreed.
HALF A world away, Raphael leaned against a concrete column that held up a corner of the wraparound veranda of his private practice and sighed.
He was truly, utterly, completely stumped. For the first time in his life, a life that was longer than even time itself, Raphael had no answers.
Danny simply was not responding to anything—not medical treatment, not Archangel power—and Raphael had run out of options.
The coma that the boy was in was resisting everything he tried, and Raphael wasn’t naïve enough to think that the coma was the one in control rather than medical science or Raphael’s own powers, no indeed. What bothered him was that each option he had fallen back on, confident that he would triumph against the illness and bring Danny back to consciousness had failed, and there was no sign that the coma was in any way supernatural.
He’d asked Samael to try, then Remiel, and neither Archangel had been able to use their powers to break the stranglehold the coma had on Danny. Raphael had then sent for the healers that Lyudmila in Armenia knew, and they had arrived a few hours lat
er, brought by Samael and Remiel. Perhaps, Raphael had reasoned, shifter magic and medicine would succeed where human and Heavenly had not.
The shifter healers had been baffled and asked Remiel if he would bring an old witch from the far northern reaches of Russia, skilled in herbs and folk magic, to help. Remiel had done so, and she too, had failed in rousing Danny.
Lix Tetrax had offered, and Raphael had agreed. He’d been at the beginnings of his desperation then, and if she could rouse Danny, well, he wouldn’t deny the boy the chance of healing, even if the method came from an Archdemon. But no, she had failed as well, and she had consulted with Ondrass, both of them looking as bewildered as Raphael felt. Now, healers and scientists and magic users from all over the world had been in and out of the sick room, as had those with such talents from Purgatory and Hell. Danny’s coma had taken on a life of its own, defying all who tried to rout it, stubbornly holding onto Danny’s mind and keeping him in a deep sleep.
The coma itself was not harming him. Danny’s vitals were good.
Thank God for small mercies, Raphael thought. He had been so sure, so confident that if the coma had not ended after a week on its own that he, Archangel of Medicine and Healing, the great Saint Raphael, would be able to use his powers and do the job where natural healing had failed. His own hubris had been smashed into shards of uncertainty with the first failed attempt.
“Raph,” Israfel joined him beneath the veranda, “you can’t blame yourself, hon. Seriously, you can’t. No one can wake him up, he’s like, a shifter version of the Sleeping Beauty, only he’s not very beautiful, more rugged, so I guess he’d be the Sleeping Rugged, but that sounds dumb. Anyway, it’s not your fault. And I have an idea.”
Archangel Chronicles 7 - Shot In the Dark Page 23
