Forbidden Angel

by Chantal Cross

  I grip my head tightly with my hands, digging my fingers in as if I could pull the ugly thoughts out by force. I didn’t do it. I didn’t. But the worst possible scenarios still lurk there. The power was insidious. It worked within my natural will, made me believe I was in charge.

  Lucien helped me. I couldn’t help myself. I was sure I was on the right path. Without him, we could all be in ruins right now, none more than my dear Ebony.

  I look at her again, the black hair sweeping down her back, the red lips far too bright for someone that has never needed lipstick. She blinks slowly, the long black lashes sweeping against her cheeks. She seems completely focused on her work, ambivalent towards me.

  It hurts, but it’s also how it has to be. No matter how I feel, I must stay away.

  What if it happens again?

  What if that magical rage sneaks into me and I don’t notice, and Lucien isn't around to intercede?

  I don’t know what the plan was. If this was specifically designed to kill Ebony or if it was just to break her trust with me. Maybe it was all about getting me away from her, so she’s more vulnerable.

  Let’s be honest. Even the bad guys don’t want to leave her as a corpse.

  Everyone seems to be trying to trigger her deeper magic. Let her get infected so the queen can step in. I could have done it—I could have pushed her over the edge.

  I flip the book in front of me, still not bothering to know what I'm looking at. My eyes lock on to her again, and this time I really can’t look away.

  The turmoil in my chest is swirling so hard I can feel it in my throat.

  I must stay near her. I can’t let anything happen to her.

  I must keep my distance. I have to stay back far enough that if I should become possessed again, she has time to flee—or the others have time to stop me.

  At the same time, I can’t keep looking at her and not touching her. The agony is tearing me apart, the heat in my body starting to burn with a white-hot flame.

  My Ebony, my love, my darling.

  Who is not mine at all. Maybe never was and never will be.

  3

  Ebony

  I keep staring into the lines of text, begging them to make sense. I make notes, trying to connect the key points with the information I’m supposed to be absorbing.

  It’s impossible. I don’t even know what I’m writing. The words slip away from me, and the meaning is more elusive than the imagery.

  Seth’s gaze feels like burning hot needles. It sweeps across my skin, making my shoulders shudder. The midpoint of my spine spreads shocks across my lower back. I keep pausing, chewing on my pen, flipping pages. I can’t see the words; I can’t focus on the page.

  He really never gives up. Even after everything that’s happened, he sits there staring at me like I belong in his arms.

  Maybe I do.

  The pressure is immense.

  The library is so quiet. Something unique about a deep silence only shuffled by the occasional flicker of a page or scratch of a pen. The air feels thick, as if I’m underwater, too deep. As if my every movement is measured, slow, and inexorable.

  My entire life is starting to feel that way. I keep running and running, and all I get for my effort is more disaster. I never find release. I never feel happy or contented.

  I never feel like I’ve won.

  I miss Seth. Even against my better judgment and most of my will. While my mind and good sense council me that I’m doing the right thing, the good thing, the only thing possible, there’s another part of me that is traitor to all the rest.

  As convincing as my intellectual mind is, I know my emotion won’t stay quiet forever. It’s not like its quiet now, just held in check.

  The pressure keeps rising. Sometimes I feel like I’m on a little boat, tossing back and forth on the sea. When the tide rises, the boat rocks, and I feel that disaster would be better than nothing. Nothing being the usual result—the sea turns quiet again, there is no capsizing of my tiny boat, no catharsis, ultimately, no change.

  And I miss Seth. How long have I turned to him for comfort? Those sweet, natural moves I made most of my life that seem so innocent at the time now seem laden with hidden meanings. My mind rolls over and over every touch.

  His hand pulling my head close against his side, fingers stroking my cheek. His long fingers taking my hand and squeezing it. The hard press of his body when we hug.

  I stare at the page. It’s like I’m lost in a trance. The sunlight makes the motes dance and the white of the pages glares at me. I can hardly discern the words at all. They look like meaningless symbols arranged at random.

  The only thing I can feel is my body, slowly smoldering and ready to flare into flame. It’s as if his eyes can touch, the weight of his gaze as palpable as his big hands.

  The innocent touches we have always shared grow and develop in my mind. Instead of just cupping my cheek, the delicate touch runs down my neck and over my collar bone. When he grips my waist to hug me, I feel his hands reaching higher, lower, all over me.

  I can’t believe what's going on in my head right now.

  After everything that’s happened, I should be thinking about kicking Seth in the butt, not daydreaming about sleeping with him.

  But that, in itself, is a ridiculous thought.

  Look at everything Gabriel has done. He still stirs me, even when he’s scaring me. Lucien teases my thoughts constantly. Even before all the recent crap went down, this situation was far too messy.

  Now it looks like one of those messes that you don’t clean up. You bomb the place and build over it.

  And I’m not even letting myself think about Leo.

  There it is. Too late.

  I’ve been devoting way too much attention to Leo. Not just daily in our lessons but in my dreams and fantasies.

  He comes close, then he drifts away. Some days, while we spar, the air is charged. Every touch thrills like electric sparks. He pulls me against him as I flex my muscles to the limit to throw him over my shoulder. When he flips and jumps up, grabbing me around the waist and tugging me against him, I can’t breathe, I can’t think.

  Other days he keeps his distance, not letting our bodies touch. He’ll use a weapon with a long reach, staff or sword. With these exercises, he makes sure our skin never meets, only our weapons.

  Even when I make every effort to touch him, by stumbling into him to feel his heat and hard muscle, letting it flare my skin to life.

  Dangerous. So very dangerous to have these thoughts, to leave myself longing. When I’m with them, any of them, I feel a heady sense of duality.

  I’m in control, I’m in power. I rule them, and they do as I say just to beg for a touch of my skin.

  I’m a rabbit, a tiny, soft prey creature. I’m crouching in the grass, and the wolves have seen me. They’re stalking slowly, letting me know they smell me and there is nowhere for me to run.

  Like at any moment, one will pounce. Maybe all of them.

  Shivers run up my belly, fire, and tension running across my breasts. My nipples ache sharply, and I blink hard, begging my body to obey me.

  My body only acts as a conduit for my thoughts. When my thoughts are this darkly sensual, I can’t blame my body for reacting.

  A perpetual loop. My body stirs, my thoughts run wild. My mind strays, my body follows.

  Could I be anything else than confused and angry right now? I don’t even know if the boys really want me—or what they actually want. My memories of how we were before don’t match our new reality. There is no trust. I don’t feel safe.

  Why does that make the entire situation even hotter?

  My emotions don’t go away, even though I coach myself to be disciplined and chaste every day. I know, using my energy, giving in to it, will carry me into a destiny I never asked for.

  Not following my heart will lead me to living a half-life.

  Why can’t I have some satisfaction, just one chance to quench this thirst in me? It grows str
onger by the day. I know, ultimately, I can’t fight it.

  Even if I wanted to.

  I don’t know if I even want to fight it.

  Part of my soul is so very reckless. Confident enough to handle anything. It whispers like a siren, like it can tip me over and catch me at the same time.

  The heat of my body is starting to run up my neck and into my face. When I glance at Seth, he’s still staring at me.

  I put my palms down on the tabletop, just barely stopping myself from smacking it. Enough is enough. I need to talk to Seth about this. It’s severely uncool, and he knows it. I’m going to go and speak to him and hope to hell I can control my emotions well enough that I don’t end up disturbing the whole library.

  Just as I press my hands to the table, ready to stand up, Leo appears in the doorway. My knees weaken immediately, and I don’t have the strength to stand. Like any guilty kid in front of the principle, I pick up my pen and pretend to be hard at work.

  That’s when another man steps up beside Leo.

  They both carry themselves the same—tall and straight backed with their shoulders broad and wide. Eyes greedily taking in everything they see as if they are the masters of the entire world.

  This stance makes them seem alike, but on closer examination, they don’t really look alike.

  And wow, am I ever taking a close examination.

  I can see the bulges of muscle that his well-cut suit does nothing to hide. His features are sharp and dramatic yet thickly sensual at the same time. He moves with grace and confidence, as if he never takes a misstep.

  He and Leo exchange a few words. As they look up and around the room, I rush my eyes back to my papers, but my neck and face flare with heat.

  I can feel the intensity of his gaze. It’s even more keen than Seth’s eyes earlier. It’s like a cloak that wraps us together, warm and soft and cutting off everything in the world.

  Just us, only us.

  I look up shyly and see the unknown man staring at me. A smile starts at the edges of his lips, and he nods slightly, his eyes sparkling with a welcome he cannot voice.

  My body, the traitorous thing, comes alive all over again. For the few seconds, we look into each other’s eyes, and it seems an endless stream of communication flows between us.

  He looks at me like he knows me. He looks at me like I’m naked, twisted, sweaty and bare before him. Like he knows all my secrets.

  It doesn’t matter if he knows them or not. I’ll whisper them in his ear. In the dark, where we should be. Where we belong. Together.

  I really have to get a handle on this. Is there any cure in the world for the hormones of a newly blooming woman?

  Maybe a guy. The right guy.

  Or several.

  4

  Gabriel

  No one has noticed me standing between the shelves.

  I peer across the library through a small gap between books. I can see Seth making a damn fool of himself, staring at Ebony like he doesn’t care if everyone sees. Maybe he doesn’t care, but he damn well should.

  I can see her reacting to him, just his gaze, even from across the room.

  Then I see her look away from Seth. By the blank look that wipes her face clean of expression I know she’s looking at something entrancing.

  I shift sideways a little, following her gaze.

  In the doorway, I see Leo. And another man.

  They don’t seem to be doing anything important. They speak a few low words. Leo gestures around a little, not disturbing the silence of the library. They take a few steps forward, nodding and whispering to each other.

  It looks like Leo has brought this person in just to parade him in front of Ebony. For the new guy's benefit, or hers?

  She’s affected, that’s obvious. I notice the rise and fall of her chest becoming more rapid as she looks at him. Her eyes go wide, pupils dilating, making her seem even more delicious and willing.

  She tosses her hair, an unconscious movement that shows off her graceful neck. The waves of dark hair reach down her back, curling towards the floor. She runs a delicate hand through it, letting her eyes slide around the room… To rest coyly on the newcomer.

  Watching her in a silent, emotional tug of war with Seth was bad enough. With the history they have between them, I find it maddening. It’s no secret, either, that I hate how close they always were, and can’t help but revel in the rift opening between them.

  It makes her looks of attraction and his eyes full of lust and longing that much harder to take. She won’t let him near her, but she desires him.

  Now, there's the new guy.

  Leo sure looks self-satisfied. Even more than usual. He sweeps his gaze around the room, eyes resting on Seth and giving him a truly condescending smirk. Seth stares back, face hard.

  He’s noticed Ebony’s attention moving too. All of us are looking at the new guy like we want to throw him in a pit and lynch him.

  My eyes narrow as I stare through the stacks, shifting into a better position. Leo swivels around and looks right at me.

  I know he can’t see me. He probably doesn’t even know it’s me. Perhaps he just has a feeling of being watched.

  The bastard's smirk widens, and he turns back to the door, talking softly again with his new best friend. They both laugh.

  The metal of the shelf trembles in my hand as I grip it tightly. I didn’t even realize I was hanging on to it. My emotions are getting the better of me—but truly, when don’t they?

  It’s slow, painful torture, watching Ebony practically salivating over this guy. She never looks at me like that. Even after everything we’ve been through together.

  I know, I’ve done some wrong. I’ve lost control. I’ve been a fool. She doesn’t have to forgive me for any of that. I wouldn’t ask her to.

  But doesn’t she owe me some kind of loyalty? I’ve tried to be there for her. After Cordelia’s death, I was pretty broken. We shared that loss, not just the grief itself but all the mixed emotions that went with it.

  When someone you love tries to kill you, then they die, how the hell are you supposed to react?

  My heart hurts for Ebony. It really does. I just want to be there for her.

  Upon slight self-examination I have to admit my ulterior motive. Yes, I want to be there for her. I want to support her. I want her to look on me with trust, to come to me with all her problems.

  But my main reason for wanting this is to have her look at me with love… I want to feel accepted by her, I’ve never been allowed close to her the way Seth has, or Lucien.

  Now a stranger. A complete stranger she has seen for literally two minutes has her panting like a wild beast.

  I have to turn away. I sense both Leo and his friend follow my movement, waiting to see who comes out from the shadows of the reference section. I don’t come out though, just move further into the library.

  I don’t want to see her like this, even if looking at her is all I want to do.

  My brain feels like it's tearing itself apart inside my skull, filling it up with broken pieces that make it impossible to think.

  She likes me. I know she does. I’ve felt that heat between us, I’ve seen the look in her eye right before she blinks those long lashes. I’ve seen her lips curve in a secret smile like she’s thinking of running that sweet mouth over my neck.

  But she does all of this with at least a foot of space between us. She holds herself back. She won’t even give me the satisfaction of being honest about her attraction. She just keeps hiding it.

  It’s like having the devil riding your roaring blood. Tearing his pitchfork through every cell. Wanting a woman, you can’t have. Looking into her eyes, feeling her soften, then seeing her pull away.

  If she wants me, why does she keep backing off?

  I know she fights her urges with all of us. She holds her body back, trying to control her emotions, her instincts.

  But she gives them sweet looks. She draws close. She keeps herself physically apart while
she comforts them with her attention. They know, she gets closer and closer to letting herself fall.

  She shares none of this with me. All I get is cold, steady looks. When I step forward, she steps back.

  Is she protecting her emotions? Is she afraid of getting hurt by me? This is ridiculous. I’ve lived close to her for so long, I know what she needs better than anyone else. Maybe even better than she does.

  I would never, ever hurt her. Not if she looked at me like that… Not if she showed me the barest hint of the emotions that just raged through her for this newcomer—Leo’s new best friend.

  I step over to the next shelf of books and look through the stacks again. Seth is staring at the men by the door with obvious hostility. He looks hard and controlled but at the same time, a furnace. Glowing and just waiting to be unleashed into an inferno.

  When I look at Ebony, I get a similar impression. She’s teasing the edge of her mouth with her pen again, making me ache through my stomach and into my far deeper parts, just thinking about that tongue. She keeps devouring the new guy with her eyes, looking away with a shocked look, like she can’t believe her own thoughts. Then she looks right back again. As if she can’t stop herself.

  Leo and his friend discuss a few more points, nodding and looking around as if they have important business. I scowl at them from afar, hoping they can feel my heat from a distance just like they can feel Ebony.

  Every now and then, new guy lets his eyes slide over to Ebony. Every single time, their eyes meet. Every single time, Ebony grins, pure pleasure spreading across her red lips. Her eyes sparkle. Her breathing quickens. It’s like I can smell her lust, getting stronger every time their eyes connect.

  To my great relief, Leo gestures towards the door. They are leaving.

  Leo meets Ebony’s eyes briefly. They share a nod, the look companionable and fairly innocent. A look any student could share with the principal.