by Anne Conley
This was going to be fun.
Ch apter Nineteen
Michael’s frame on the motor scooter looked good as Faith followed him up the curvy mountain pass to his shrine. That was such a funny thought. His shrine. Her boyfriend had his own shrine.
He had explained the story in more depth to her last night. Apparently, Michael had befriended an old hermit monk ten or so centuries ago and convinced him to build this place. Michael had been spending a lot of time in Italy, already weary of the conflicts in the Middle East, seeing how the Italians were embracing Christianity whole-heartedly, if not a little erroneously. He was still idealistic enough with his role as God’s helper to try to work with the humans. But he was beginning to see the writing on the wall, and needed a quiet place devoted to his own regeneration. Faith equated it to a hot, cleansing shower.
Nestled into the side of Mount Pirchiriano, the Sacra di San Michele had initially been a modest affair, by today’s standards, but has since been rebuilt around the ruins of the initial building. Michael had bequested the reliquary to Giovanni to put in the crypt, the first building, as protection from raiders. It was the same reliquary that Faith had in her possession, now that Michael had given it back to her. She hadn’t realized he’d taken it from her safe. It was believed then to have powers, which apparently the US government believed in and wanted. Michael was convinced they didn’t understand the history of the artifact, and it would be safest if returned to its original place.
They took the modest tour of the church, which had been rebuilt in relatively modern times, Faith gawking at the religious artwork depicting her boyfriend: stained glass, murals, and sculptures. All of it beautiful with a suggestion of Michael’s features, but none of it compared to the real thing, standing next to her with a smirk on his beautiful face. They were the only people there today, visitors being scarce this time of year. After their tour, they got back on their scooters and rolled down the mountainside to hide the machines while they completed their task.
Faith followed Michael through the sparse woods below the Abbey as they hiked around to where the original crypt structure was. He was slow and methodical, careful, as they picked their way through the brush on the rather steep mountainside. Faith was equally careful. She’d found her angel. It wouldn’t do for her to plummet to her death now. And, as she looked down, she realized that was fairly possible.
The structure was on the top of a modest mountain. It wasn’t one of the largest in the world, nor was it one of the most dangerous. But it had been built on top of remains of a Roman garrison, the location chosen for its defendability, the view all around it pristine, which meant that Faith and Michael could be seen easily, by the vigilant. Hopefully, the people currently there were only devout, not watchful.
Finally, night fell, and Michael eventually stopped his hiking. They had moved in silence, him turning to check her progress periodically, to offer her a hand or an encouraging smile. But for the most part, they moved together, able to get around the mountain with little difficulty. She had drank the water out of her pack a few times, but it wasn’t a difficult hike at all.
The original crypt was nothing more than ruins, but Michael knew where he was going. He vaulted the chain link fence, a suggestion of security more than an actual deterrent, and reached over to lift Faith inside. He moved with a cat-like grace that left Faith breathless. Clasping her hand in his, he led her to a tower actually situated on the edge of the mountain. The monk earlier had explained it was the Tower of the Beautiful Alda. It was built before it got its name from a peasant girl, who had made a pilgrimage to the compound to pray for an end to the war ravaging her village. Unfortunately, she was set upon by soldiers and escaped to the top of the tower where she prayed for deliverance by St. Michael before leaping. Judging by Michael’s reaction to the story, it was true, and he’d delivered her to the bottom safely. But she went back to the village and tried to profit from the event, offering to repeat it for money from the villagers, who didn’t believe her. When she leapt the second time, Michael watched her fall to her death.
When she saw Michael start to scale the walls, Faith laid a hand on his arm. “Why are we leaving it here?”
He shrugged. “This is where it belongs.” He continued his ascent up the tower, whose stairs had long ago crumbled, picking out handholds and footholds. “Stay down here, Faith. I’ll be back.”
Oh, hell no. She mimicked his holds and climbed up after him, stretching to place her hands where his had been. It was a massive struggle up the inside of the tower. Michael’s reach was larger than hers, and when he realized she was struggling behind him, he began to make smaller gaps between his handholds, muttering under his breath about stubborn women. When they reached what remained of the top floor of the tower, Michael sat and lifted Faith up the rest of the way, settling her next to him with her feet hanging over the ledge.
“Do you ever listen?” The light shining in his eyes contradicted the stern set of his mouth and Faith smiled at him.
“Nope. I won’t be left behind again, Michael. Even if it’s dangerous.” Wind rippled through her hair, and she leaned back on her hands, letting it flow over her body. With the holes in the walls and their impressive height, she felt like a bird, second only to flying with Michael. She was slightly winded, and the thin air made it difficult to catch her breath. Her gasps had Michael’s eyes pinned to her heaving breasts, and she slapped at his chest. “Stop being a perv, we have stuff to do.”
He flashed her a heart-stopping grin before hopping to his feet lithely. He walked around the perimeter of what was left of the structure, running his hands over the crumbling walls.
“If you put it in the walls, won’t someone find it when they rebuild?”
He smirked at her, the white of this teeth flashing in the dark. “Nope. I can make the walls indestructible. At least, I used to. I think I still can…”
“Why didn’t you make this place indestructible the first time it was built, then?” Faith was looking at the ruins below them with the rebuilt structure in the back ground, while Michael continued looking for the perfect brick.
“Okay, indestructible by man. I can’t do much against earthquakes, which is what caused most of this. The Boss’s powers trump mine.” He seemed to find what he was looking for, as his massive fingers traced the edges of a particular brick, a faint blue light emanating from his fingertips. Faith held her breath in awe.
When he touched it again, the brick came loose into his hand and Michael held it out to her to hold. He lifted the necklace from around his neck, where he’d been wearing it under his shirt, and placed it in the hole in the wall made by the brick. She handed the brick back to him, and he replaced it, laying his palm flat against the wall as he did so. The blue light radiated from his hands and spread across the wall. When he removed his hands, the light remained, and Michael sank down next to Faith on the floor of the dilapidated structure.
“Well, that’s done.”
“What’s inside it? What makes it so powerful?” She’d never figured it out, nobody had volunteered the information, and the curiosity was killing her.
She watched as Michael flexed his fingers, cracking knuckles without answering her. She thought maybe he hadn’t heard her and was about to repeat her question when he finally answered her.
“About the time Giovanni was building this place, the Deceiver and I had a fight over something. I can’t even remember what anymore. But he cut off my index finger. That’s what’s inside the reliquary.”
She looked at his hands, trying to find evidence of a missing finger. Not seeing anything, she grasped one and pulled it towards her face.
“This hand.” He held the other hand up for her inspection. Nothing. No scars, scratches, or anything showed where his finger had been cut off.
“Wow.”
“We heal.”
“I know.” A thought occurred to her, and she looked into Michael’s face, which studied her earnestly. He could tell
where her thoughts were going. “You used to heal.”
His hand cupped her face gently. “I’ll still heal. Like a mortal.” He chuckled ruefully. “Next time someone cuts off my finger, we’ll be packing it in ice and rushing to the hospital like a normal person.” His voice held a funny tinge of something that Faith couldn’t place. Anticipation? Regret? It seemed like both, but it was such a contradiction. It didn’t seem right to be hoping his finger would need to be packed on ice.
“Did you have a choice in this?”
He nodded. “Yes, I did. You want the truth?”
“Of course. Don’t ever lie to me.”
“At first, I didn’t want anything to do with human women. You know that. I just wanted the mortality part of the deal. I fell in love with you so I could die, Faith. I was tired of living. This job was exhausting.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “But The Boss knew what He was doing. Now I can’t live without you. Death only seems attractive if you’re gone. As long as you’re living, I’ll be watching you.”
Because his words were washing over her so hard, his hand on the back of her neck had gone unnoticed by Faith until he used it to pull her face towards his in a desperate kiss, his tongue possessing her the way she loved. She returned the gesture in the tower with the walls glowing blue, and they moaned into each other’s mouths as the kiss gained momentum. He bit her bottom lip and she suckled on his tongue, and before long their hands started roaming each other’s bodies.
Something about being out in the open with Michael, on this consecrated ground, the taboo of it all, made Faith hotter than she could remember. When Michael’s hands went to the snap on her jeans, she didn’t even attempt to stop him. She arched her hips as he pulled them down and let out a long, low moan as he dipped his head in the apex of her thighs.
“This.” He muttered against her heat, the little patch of hair tickling her folds. “This is one of the best parts of mortality, Faith.” His tongue lapped at her, stroking her from the bottom of her folds to the nub at the top, swirling around it before sucking it between his teeth. “I never tasted anything before. And you…” (lick, swirl, suck) “…taste better than any fucking thing I ever imagined.” Faith was so busy gasping for air, succumbing to the sensations he was setting loose on her that she almost didn’t hear his words. When they sank in, she soared.
Grabbing his hair, Faith bucked her hips against his mouth, letting the little soul patch on his chin do marvelous things against the sensitive skin there. She was trying to hold him still, to put his mouth where she needed it.
But he stopped and raised his head over her mound, leaving her dangling at the precipice.
“Hands stretched out at your sides, Faith. No touching. No moving. Stay still.” His tone of voice brooked no argument, and she complied without question.
His eyes still gleamed at her in the darkness, chin shiny with her juices, while waves of desire coursed through her. “I will make you come, Faith. All alone, without your help.” He grinned wickedly. “I’m going to do it here. Then we’re going back to the hotel, and I’m going to do it again. And possibly again. Until you’re coming while the sun rises.”
Then he dipped his head back down and resumed his feasting while Faith continued her climb into the night. Michael kept his word.
Chapter Twenty
Faith was uncharacteristically nervous. Michael had been amazing to her, taking her back to her cabin, and erasing all memories of the Devil in her bedroom by overriding them with memories of the two of them together. In fact, he’d done his best to give her new memories to go alongside memories of Eli as well. He seemed to know a piece of her heart would always belong to Eli, but there was room for him too.
The love-making and game-playing was amazing. Dominating her, cherishing her, his hands and mouth playing her like an instrument. And her body sang for him. It was astounding.
Now, clinging to his back as they traveled the roads to Texas, she was going to meet his brothers. The long-distance motorcycle ride was taking three days, but she didn’t mind. The motorcycle punished her body all day, and Michael soothed it in motel rooms at night.
She had suggested they take the Wagoneer, but he’d nixed the idea, complaining about the maintenance necessary for a long distance. And the truth was, she was enjoying the time without conversation, just thinking and feeling him as she wrapped her body around him.
She understood he’d given up mortality for her, an issue he hadn’t really seemed to mind. He’d seemed to welcome it, actually. They hadn’t talked yet about his attempt to trade himself for her to Damien, and she wasn’t sure if they ever would. But the actions were clear.
Faith had wanted to talk about his brothers, too. She didn’t know what to expect, if they were like Michael or like Damien or totally different from both. She didn’t have much experience with siblings, only knowing a few in the group home, but she was excited about meeting his family, no matter how they acted. She had to admit to herself, she wondered what they would think of her. That thought was uncharacteristically insecure for her, but as much as she tried to block it, she couldn’t. If they didn’t like her, would Michael feel differently toward her?
She couldn’t even begin to go there.
Now they were driving through a city on highways filled with cars. Each car had drivers on their way to their own destinations with lives to live, and Faith felt a moment of wonder at the bigger picture. God had created His Winds to help these lives live, and now He was taking them away, giving them to women, for love. They were falling, and God’s tools were no longer in operation. What would happen to these people? What was His plan for them?
They crossed a massive bridge and ended up on Galveston Island, driving down roads that twisted up the coastline, before ending up on a private beach. Parking in a stretch of grass, Michael shut off the engine and inhaled deeply.
The air was salty and smelled of rotting fish, probably a beach thing, Faith thought to herself. The ocean had smelled much cleaner when they were flying over it, and she had to remind herself this wasn’t an ocean she was looking at, but a gulf, used for a lot of oil tanker traffic, and not particularly clean.
A group of people were watching them intently, three couples in various frozen activities: a man at the barbecue pit with a tall blonde wrapped around his backside, a fleshy woman lying on a beach towel with another man rubbing lotion on her back, and the third couple had dropped armfuls of firewood on a pile. They all stared at Faith and Michael, gawking. A nervous giggle escaped her as she climbed off the back of the bike.
“You ready for this?” he grumbled under his breath at her.
“Are you?” she countered, sensing his discomfort.
He shrugged as the blonde on the beach towel scampered up and started running toward them. She threw herself at Michael in an exuberant hug, which he returned good-naturedly. Faith could see the corners of his mouth quirking up in a reluctant smile.
“Michael! I’m so glad you came! We were wondering, Gabe didn’t think you’d actually show.” She was breathless with her sprint over, and after letting him extricate himself from her hug, she turned to Faith. “You must be Faith. I’m Hope. The name thing is funny, I think. Come on and meet everyone. They’re dying.” She grabbed Faith’s hand and tugged.
Faith grabbed Michael’s hand, pulling him behind her.
The men all came up to meet them when they got to the periphery of the area, and Hope went over to the grill where the other woman had taken over flipping burgers.
She watched Michael grip hands and reluctantly get pulled into bear hugs, clapping backs but not cracking a smile. She could see his eyes though. Even though he wasn’t smiling, he was pleased nonetheless.
She watched the men interact, trying to guess which was which. Gabriel was easy. He was taciturn, his movements efficient, his smile reserved, exactly what she’d imagine the Messenger to be. He was a type-A personality, to the core. It was obvious in his stiff movements but difficult to imagine
him with the bubbly, effervescent woman who’d initially greeted them, the one he’d been rubbing lotion on. Gabriel was tall and broad-chested with dark brown hair and pretty, caramel colored eyes, wearing a pair of striped board shorts and a matching red t-shirt.
Her eyes moved on to the next man. He was taller and not as broad with longish auburn hair and the most intense green eyes she’d ever seen. He had the body of a natural athlete and moved with a grace and fluidity that spoke of hidden power. His Hawaiian print board shorts were paired with a white oxford shirt that was left open, and his bare chest was a sight to see. An easy smile came to his face, and radiated outward, as if his entire body smiled all the time. This was a guy who laughed a lot, finding humor in everything, she imagined. He must be Rafael, the Healer, since laughter is the best medicine and all that.
That left Uriel, the one she was the least familiar with. Honestly, she had no idea who Uriel was, she just had heard the name in vague references. He was smaller than the rest but not in any way small. His body was lanky and trim, his muscles understated, probably easily hidden under clothes. However, he wasn’t wearing many, his shorts shorter, with no shirt.
Faith found herself gawking at the virile display of the four men in front of her. These men used to be angels, and it showed. Perfection, in all its forms, clapped each other on the back and grinned at each other good-naturedly. Michael had even found his smile, and Faith’s breath hitched at the stunning sight.
Michael was still wearing jeans over his bathing suit, as was she, and they molded to his slim hips. His black t-shirt was tucked into them, and Faith knew exactly what was underneath all those clothes. While she was staring, they all turned to her and leveled curious gazes at her, all except Michael. His eyes shone with pride.
“I’d like you guys to meet Faith.” He stalked over to her and dropped a proprietary arm over her shoulder. “My woman.” He said it with a smirk, but Faith knew he meant it, she was his.
