by Rosalie Redd
Hannah placed her hand on his shoulder and knelt next to him. “What can I do?”
Her concern for his well-being poked at the tough lining around his heart. He shouldn’t let her in, shouldn’t care for her, but he couldn’t battle an enemy he didn’t know how to fight.
“Talk to me. Just, talk to me. I need to hear your voice.” He sucked in a deep breath, and Hannah’s fresh scent burrowed into his senses.
She trailed her fingers down his arm until her hand rested on top of his. “Sometimes I draw and don’t know why. My mind wanders and half the time I don’t even know what the picture will become. I drew you. The wings, they just happened.”
Her voice and her calming touch soothed into his soul, easing away the tension. Pain still pulsed along his wings. Although the salve had healed his back, he wasn’t sure he could handle Hannah’s sweet touch caressing his sensitive feathers.
He inhaled, gripped her hand, and rose to his feet. “Tell me why you draw.”
“I…” She studied his features, the slightest hint of tension forming lines around her eyes. “When Mom left and Dad decided he liked spending more time with his beer than with us, Sadie would play games with me, cook for me, basically take care of me. I worshipped her and wanted to repay her any way possible.”
Hannah pulled away from him and strode to the easel. She picked up one of her pencils and studied the dark charcoal. “Sadie always liked my sketches, so I worked hard on them, did my best, gave her way too many.”
A soft laugh escaped her lips. Her face brightened, and her beauty slammed into Seth, the force of it rocking him on his feet. Dearest Rhiannon, you mean to torture me.
“Sadie praised and kept every single picture I ever made for her.” Hannah’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. One crested over her lashes and slid down her cheek. “I didn’t know what I would do without her.”
Seth closed the distance between them and cradled her head in his palm. He brushed the back of his finger over her soft cheek, wiping away the moisture. “That must’ve been hard for you, the time you were apart.”
Hannah nodded and leaned into his caress. “My uncle beat my aunt. She protected me from him, but one time I came home early from cheerleading practice. She wasn’t there.”
“But he was. He hit you, didn’t he?” The urge to beat the man to a pulp surged through him, and he tightened his jaw so hard his teeth ached.
Hannah nodded. “After that first time, I never let myself be alone with him again. Not long after, I learned how much he feared God, and I figured out how to use that against him. I can’t believe how many times mentioning the wrath of God kept him at bay, but it worked for both me and Aunt Sally. I think my guardian angel had something to do with that too, though.”
“You really think an angel protected you?” He leaned closer and stared into her eyes.
She blinked, studying him with an intensity that bore deep inside. “Yeah, I do.”
Her belief radiated from her in waves, the brightness in her soul almost too much for him to handle. Goodness, light, trust, faith. She was all of those things and so much more. His heart ached, swelling with respect for all that she represented.
“I think you did what you needed to survive, and it seems you helped protect your aunt as much as she protected you.”
She stroked her fingers along his brow and over his ear, tangling her fingertips in his hair. “Well, I believe in guardian angels. I’m looking at one right now.”
His breath lodged behind a lump in his throat. After a long moment, he swallowed. “I’m no one’s guardian angel, darlin’. I’m a creature of the night.”
An innocent smile curled her lip. “Maybe you’re my night angel instead.”
He shook his head. “Hannah…”
Hannah focused her attention on the spark stone embedded in his chest right over his heart. She ran her fingers along the hard surface.
The sensual touch lit up his nerves, and in response, his stone changed from its normal opaque color to a vibrant shade of red.
“So, this contains a piece of your soul?” Her soft voice held a hint of wonder.
“It does. Rhiannon hangs on to the rest of my foul spirit. She seems to think I’ll redeem myself someday.” He laughed darkly. It’d take eons serving in her army to make up for all the lives he’d destroyed during his human life, but dammit, he still clung to hope.
“What did you do…” She fixated on something over his shoulder. Worry knitted her brow. “Seth, your wing… There’s a hole, it’s growing. Please, the salve. Let me help you.”
So focused on their conversation, he’d shoved the pain in the far recesses of his brain. Awareness brought the agony front and center again. Although not as fierce as the pain on his back, the pinpricks along his feathers burned like fire.
He’d hated his white-as-a-dove wings from the day he’d been recruited into Rhiannon’s army. He wasn’t an angel—guardian, night, or otherwise—and didn’t deserve Hannah’s devotion and care, but he didn’t deny how much he craved her touch.
Maybe he’d secretly wanted to reveal his wings to her. No. Absolutely not. He kicked that idiotic notion to the ground. Before he had a chance to think about having her tend to his injured wing any further, he nodded and sat in the chair once again.
Hannah retrieved the sack containing the salve from the floor. How had the small bundle survived the chaos? Witch magic. Had to be.
She stood, determination etched in the fine lines around her lips. Those beautiful, perfect lips. A stirring of another kind rippled through him, pumping blood south. He adjusted himself in the chair and spread his wings as wide as possible. Even within the enclosed space, the tips of his wings almost spanned wall to wall.
Hannah’s soft intake of breath echoed through the room. “They’re magnificent.”
His chest expanded, and he berated himself for enjoying her compliment. He was despicable and didn’t deserve the likes of someone as sweet and innocent as Hannah. If only his wings were good for something.
The first brush of her fingers along his feathers lit up his nerves. Part pain, part arousal, all very sensitive. He inhaled. Held his breath.
She stopped for a moment. “Am I pressing too hard?”
Oh, sweetheart, not nearly hard enough. The words were on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he shook his head and peered at her over his shoulder. “You’re doing fine, darlin’. Just fine.”
She gave him her special smile that lit up her features and put a spark in her emerald green eyes. “You let me know if I do, okay?”
“You bet.” His deep voice came out on a rasp.
Hannah smoothed more of the salve onto his wings. A ripple of delight followed in her wake, and with each stroke, his erection lengthened, tightened, and pressed painfully against his pants.
Exchanging one pain for another hadn’t even crossed his mind, but he refused to let Hannah see what she did to him. Rather, he basked in her attention, soaking up each caress of her fingers with a hunger of a man starved for decades.
“Seth. Tell me about your wife.”
The muscles in his back locked hard as steel. He peered at her over his shoulder. Part of one wing blocked his view, so he moved it until he saw her eyes. Curiosity, coupled with the slightest bit of hope, reflected in her gaze.
He swallowed. “Why do you ask about Emily? She’s long dead.”
Hannah flinched, but continued her ministrations, soothing him with each brush of her fingertips. Gods, she’d be the death of him, yet.
“How did she die?” Hannah’s soft words slipped under his skin.
He didn’t want to face the disappointment that would darken her eyes, so he turned away. “She died of pneumonia in 1884. My Emily had the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known. Kind and generous, she’d help anyone who needed helping, and in the end, that’s what killed her.”
Hannah stopped for a moment then resumed her long, sensuous strokes on his wings. When she didn’t say anything, he
spoke to fill the void.
“I’d gone to town on the pretense of needing supplies, but in reality, I wanted to get away. It’s a bad habit of mine left over from childhood. A storm came up out of nowhere. My wife, four months along with our first child, sent the help home before the storm hit so they could be with their families.” A chagrinned laugh burst from him.
“The last of the help, Jimmy Watson, a new guy I never trusted, stayed behind. I should’ve followed my instincts. He backhanded Emily, knocked her into the wall, and stole the money we’d saved for a new roof from the canister in the kitchen. He ran. She chased him into the rain.”
Raw emotion choked the rest of the words from him.
Hannah continued her care of him, stroking his feathers with her light, sensitive touch. A tremble, part sorrow for his past, part need for a future he could never have, rippled through him.
“Please, tell me the rest.” Hannah’s voice wavered, as if she experienced his emotional pain right along with him.
Seth released a slow breath. “Jimmy freaking Watson got away. My Emily, she caught pneumonia and died a few weeks later.”
“Did you kill Jimmy? Is that how you became a gargoyle?”
A tic in his jaw pulsed to life. He shook his head, refused to look at her. “I never saw the asshole again, forgive my language, but if I had, I would’ve tortured him until his screams turned hoarse and he died awake and aware of everything I’d done to him. No, I never had my revenge.”
“Then, what did you do that would make me believe you’re a horrible man, other than love your wife and blame the man responsible for her death?”
This time, he did look at her. Better to see the rejection in her eyes so she’d stay away from him. It was the best way to protect her from him. “After Emily died, I sold the farm, roamed from town to town, city to city, searching for Jimmy and playing poker, stealing from as many others as possible.”
Hannah held his gaze. “What else?”
“I ruined countless families’ lives, those stupid enough to bet against me. Some didn’t believe my luck, said I’d cheated. Sometimes I did. Most of the time, I was just that good.” He shrugged.
“I never shared my uncanny skills with anyone. Two years into my spree and after one too many wins, a group of men caught me outside of town and strung me from a tree. Poetic justice, wouldn’t you say?”
Hannah blinked, but her usually expressive features remained unreadable. “What did you do with the money?”
His erection had long deflated from their mood-killing conversation. He folded his wings, rose from the chair and strode to the window, eager to put distance between them. The salve must’ve worked for his wings no longer burned. He drew aside the curtain and stared into the night.
Streetlights lined the empty road like sentries in a storm. Absently, he traced the figure eight on the cord at his wrist. Memories of his past surfaced in his mind, tormenting him.
Hannah padded across the room until she stood right behind him. With a gentle tug on his shoulder, she urged him to face her. Determination lined her pursed lips and her furrowed brow, but there was no judgment in her eyes, only concern. “Seth. Tell me.”
Hannah’s commanding words opened the floodgate, and he shared with her something he swore he’d never tell another. “A few months before my death, I ran across this rancher. I could tell he had an addiction to cards, so I kept playing him. The guy had the better hand, but I cheated him out of his home and left him penniless.”
Seth kept his focus on the empty sidewalk. “A couple weeks later, I saw the guy enter a saloon, leaving his wife and their young daughter to wait on a nearby bench. Tears streaked the little girl’s face. That was the last straw for me. I’d realized I’d made some big mistakes. After that, I left town, spent what I needed to keep myself alive, and continued my search for Jimmy. The rest,” he shrugged, “I gave to the few hospitals I found and the orphanages.”
Tears welled in Hannah’s eyes. “Not just for the woman and the girl, but also for Emily and your unborn child.”
He nodded once.
“If the rancher was addicted to cards, then he would’ve lost to someone, eventually. At least you learned from your mistake, and I’m sure you helped many along the way with your donations.” Hannah wiped her hand across her brow.
He shrugged. “That’s why Rhiannon considered my soul questionable. She took a chance on me.”
“I’m so glad she did. In the end, you helped those in need. That makes you an angel to me.” Hannah’s gaze bore into him, her eyes narrowing. “You mentioned you needed to get away and said it was a bad habit from childhood. What did you mean?”
Seth swallowed, but refused to look away. Hannah deserved to know the full truth. “When I was five, I fell through a hole at the back of our property and into an old, abandoned mine. Sprained my ankle and wasn’t able to climb out. I wandered further into the tunnel but ended up spending the night before my father found me. Since then, I don’t like dark, confined places and have this incessant need to be free. That’s why I left Emily that day and why I’m responsible for her death.”
“You can’t blame yourself for that. Jimmy’s the one responsible.” Hannah’s cheeks, red and rosy, glowed with a fine sheen of sweat.
A chilliness rippled along Seth’s wings. He trailed his fingers along Hannah’s brow. Damp, clammy, and too warm to the touch, her skin burned with fever. “Hannah, when was the last time you took some of Wynne’s medicine?”
She shook her head, her eyes glazed, unfocused. “I’m not sure. Before sunset, I think.”
“Let me get it for you, darlin’. Where is it?” Seth glanced around the room.
“I left it on the table next to the George in the living room.” She pointed to the hallway.
Seth bolted from the room, grabbed the bottle, and returned a moment later. Fingers laced around the sloping neck, he held it out to her.
She blinked and accepted the vial. As she drew the cork from the end, the vial slipped from her fingers.
Seth reached for the bottle, but the damned thing careened off his finger and flipped end over end. The smooth glass skittered against the hardwood floor, leaving a trail of liquid in its wake, and ended up alongside the doorstop. Green potion slid along a crack in the wood and disappeared.
“Oh no!” Hannah’s whispered words, full of despair, echoed between them.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop it.” Heart racing, Seth entwined his fingers with Hannah’s and squeezed her hand. “I’ll contact Wynne. We’ll get you more.”
Hannah shook her head. “Wynne’s in her punishment, remember? Sasha can’t come over either.”
“Then I’ll take you there. The medicine can help stave off Marco’s hold over you.”
“No, that won’t work.” She glanced at their linked hands and rubbed her thumb along his.
His heart skipped a beat. “Why not?”
She shook her head.
With his free hand, he placed his fingertip under her chin and encouraged her to look at him. “Please, tell me.”
Her tear-filled gaze met his. “I didn’t want you to know, but I’m growing weaker. I can feel his pull on me. The medicine isn’t strong enough to stop him.”
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I won’t let anything happen to you, remember?”
“I remember.” A small smile bloomed on her face. She studied him for a long moment then her eyes widened. “I just thought of something that might work.”
The excitement in her voice eased some of the tension in his shoulders. He tilted his head. “Like what?”
She withdrew her hand from his then laced her fingers around his neck. “When you touch me, the pain goes away. A little, anyway. But I think there’s something that might help even more.”
A blush turned her cheeks rosy. She glanced away for a moment before meeting his gaze. “It might stop him from wanting me altogether.”
Seth didn’t like the sly look in her eyes. His g
ut tightened. “What?”
“Love me, here, now. I won’t expect you to stick around, but I want this. I want you. If I’m no longer a virgin, he—”
A virgin? Christ, no. He hadn’t slept with a virgin since Emily. He tugged her arms from around his neck then ran his hand through his hair. “Hannah, darlin’. It’s not right. I won’t take advantage of you.”
“Y…you don’t want me?” Hannah’s shoulders sagged.
He wanted her with a passion he hadn’t experienced since his Emily and didn’t want to see her in such pain much less be the cause of it. He grasped her hand, brought her fingers to his lips, and placed a tender kiss on her delicate skin.
“I want you more than I can say.” With a lump lodged in the back of his throat, his voice came out strained.
The tension in her features disappeared, replaced with a coy smile. “Then, what’s stopping you?”
“I’ve slept with more women than I can count, but that’s not the only reason I’m stained and tainted. I’ve been no good from the beginning.”
“Who told you that?”
“My mother. When I learned how to play poker as a kid. She said cards dirtied my soul as well as my hands. She was right.”
“She was wrong. There’s good in everyone, Seth, including you. Good is stronger than evil. I believe that in my very soul. Make love to me.” Hannah pressed her lips against his, chasing away his mother’s words with a single kiss.
His jaw tightened as his resolve wavered. Hannah might be right. Taking her sweet, virgin innocence might do the trick.
Damn him.
He’d give in to her demand and his self-interest, but in return, he’d show Hannah what making love to someone was all about. Gods help him if he ended up losing his heart to her in the process. He didn’t see any way for them to be together.
CHAPTER 14
The loud squeak of metal hinges grinding together echoed down the deserted back alley. Marco pressed his palm against the grime-encrusted dumpster and peered over the lid.
Two men, arm in arm, emerged from the back door of a seedy night club. The short one staggered into the taller one and laughed. The lanky man gripped his companion’s butt covered in a tight pair of leather pants and gave it a squeeze.
