Raise the Dead

by Briana Michaels

  Anthony took his first step forward. That was all Michael needed to know that he’d just gained an ally.

  "See who you can get to join in helping me fight Lucifer. I can't do this alone. No one can." Michael dipped his head in gratitude and handed him a card with an address and cell number on it. As Anthony spread his wings to take flight, Michael added, "I fear there isn't much time left. Lucifer's army is gaining traction in all facets - the Mediums, witches, Hounds, malanum - time is not in our favor, brother."

  Anthony pushed off with his feet and disappeared. Once out of sight, Michael closed his eyes and took a long pull of energy from a collective source of Angels - and Anthony was one of them.

  Heading out of the realm and back to the human world, he was on a mission. It was time to make some mayhem. You only get one shot to create absolute chaos. He wasn’t about to fuck this up by prematurely unleashing the altered Hounds, Psychics, Mediums, and witches he’d collected over the past few weeks.

  Pulling out his cell, Michael hit a number and said, “Meet me at the church. Seven sharp.”

  Chapter 16

  Constantine left Hell the second Gabriel returned. He needed air and seclusion. And he definitely needed to get his shit together. Entering his cabin in the middle of nowhere, he inhaled the scents of wood, must, and fabric softener. Damn it was good to be home.

  Plopping down in his wooden chair, it creaked with his weight. The carved oak desk was littered with half-written manuscripts, scraps of paper with notes and symbols, and sticky notes were scattered like confetti. Reams of paper stacked to the left of his lamp leaned precariously. Around his chair were crumpled failures and not-good-enoughs that never made it into the overflowing trashcan.

  This was his comfort zone. This chaos and loneliness. Writing was a compulsion. To not write was to not breathe.

  Constantine was an obsessive creature. And he thrived on habits. Get up, caffeinate, write, check on his brothers, write, eat, write, toss and turn in the bed, wake up, annnnd repeat. That was called surviving.

  Once in a while, when it felt like the world might have forgotten all about him, Constantine would search for Eve. She was his favorite obsession. Had been since the moment they met. And temptation, as fine as she was, called to him in his darkest hours.

  How many times had he searched and found her? Hunting wasn’t a strength of his, but he was still damned good at it. All these centuries, Constantine knew where to find Eve. He’d check in on her from time to time. Always staying hidden, he kept his distance and gave her the space she was hell-bent of having.

  Except once.

  In his darkest moment, when he felt like his world was too bleak to bother living in anymore, he showed up at her door like the ragged half-of-a-male he’d become. Misery and loneliness turned Constantine into a shell. In his eyes, Eve was the only thing that could fill him with hope again…

  The wind kicked up, offering a cold, stinging bite to his cheeks. Constantine’s body ached. His heavy wings sagged. Twenty feet from him stood a tiny hut made of long branches and some sort of animal hide. A steady stream of smoke escaped from the top of the structure. Inhaling, a hint of a smile tried to form on Con’s lips.

  Eve still smelled so good.

  A large wolf slipped out of the dwelling. His lips curled to show all of his sharp teeth. His hackles raised as he dipped his head down and growled nastily at the trespasser. Con wasn’t scared. He lowered himself to eye-level with the animal and waited. This wolf had been through more danger since the last time he’d seen it. Three new scars, hairless and jagged, graced his right flank.

  “Easy, boy,” Constantine kept his gaze locked on Anam. “It’s me.”

  For whatever reason – most likely a miracle – this animal would never attack Constantine. It was like some piece of him knew, deep down, that Con was one of the good guys.

  “Anam,” Eve opened the flap of her hut and froze when she saw who her protective wolf was growling at. The moon cast shadows over her lovely features. “Constantine,” she whispered, taking a step back. “Why are you here? Is everyone okay?”

  “No,” he closed the gap between them and kissed her. The taste of her tongue sent lightning bolts down his spine. Inhaling her scent, he ignored the smokiness, the dirt, the sweat and wilderness that was becoming part of her and focused on the floral notes. “I’m not okay,” he confessed.

  She pulled back and took a good look at what he’d become. Wilted. Depleted. Hollow. Gone was the proud warrior of the Brotherhood of Angels. Constantine was a brittle shell who was chipping and cracking at an alarming rate.

  His brothers were fighting. Again.

  “I need this,” he confessed. “Please.”

  Could she see the agony in his eyes? Could she taste the misery on his tongue? Eve threaded her hand through his hacked off hair. It was uneven, unkempt, and dirty. Hers was no better.

  “What’s happened?” she whispered.

  Nothing that Eve could help with, so he didn’t answer. “Please,” he begged. “I won’t come back again.” He didn’t want it to be a lie, even though it most definitely was.

  “Is Lucifer okay? Gabriel? Uriel?”

  It’s me who is dying, he thought. It’s me who’s suffering without you. Without us. “They’re the same as always,” he said with a cracked voice.

  With her hand still threaded in his hair, she held the back of his head and pressed her forehead to his. Maybe it was his imagination, but he could have sworn she needed him as much as he needed her right now. Running with that assumption, Constantine tilted his head to the side and pressed his lips to hers again. While deepening the kiss, he carefully guided her backwards and into her small hut.

  For as cold as it was outside, in here was warm and bearable.

  She broke away from him with a gasp. As she stood all flustered and breathy, he checked out her living conditions. Two small bowls for food, a cup, and clay pot. A stack of animal hides made up her bedding. An extra fur cloak and some kind of leather string hung off a makeshift wrack.

  “Are you happy?” he asked.

  “No,” she admitted. “Are you?”

  His blue eyes rose to meet hers and he shook his head.

  “We can’t…” her chin quivered. “If we do, we’ll do it more.”

  “Just one more time,” he reached up and swept a tear from her cheek. “Please. Give me something so I can keep going.”

  She whimpered and gave in.

  Pressing her body to his, they attacked each other like two starved, feral beasts. She tore at his clothing, then started ripping at her own. They were all hands, mouths, limbs and wings. The hut wasn’t big enough for both of them to stretch their feathers all the way, but damned if they didn’t try. They accidentally collapsed the hut.

  Constantine, for the first time in years, laughed. Curling his wings around the two of them, he cradled her face and bit his bottom lip before kissing her again.

  He was going to carry this memory with him forever.

  Having her house fall down around them while they continued to ravish each other was spectacular. Before they could continue with the fun, however, they had to reconstruct the entire thing.

  The kiss? The collapse? The Rebuild? One hundred percent worth it.

  Once they rebuilt her home, they picked up right where they left off. Stretching her lithe body out onto the furs, Constantine worshiped every inch of her sweet flesh before burying himself as deep as he could inside her. White light sliced through his vision the moment their bodies joined. His heart swelled and came to life once more. His wings tingled. Skin burned.

  Eve’s head thrashed back as she cried out. Her jagged nails clawed his shoulders. He wanted them to leave marks that would last lifetimes. Constantine made sure every swipe of his tongue, every thrust of his hips, every caress of his hand dragged a moan out of her throat. Pulling one of her legs up, he kissed her calf and hooked her leg over his shoulder. Now he moved slowly, deeply, and continued to wring ever
y last drop of pleasure from her body.

  Ever since he’d had a taste of desire that time in the desert, Constantine craved more. He never took a bite though. Not from any other woman.

  Loyal. To. The. Bone.

  He was a junky needing a fix, and Eve – his perfect drug - was the only thing intoxicating enough to penetrate his deep barriers.

  “Con!” her back arched and he felt her pussy clamp down on his cock. Pulsing, tight, and flooded with pleasure, her cum coated his dick and caused his sensitivity to ramp up. A few more thrusts and he was eager to chase his own release. He hooked her other leg over his shoulder and slammed into her. He’d fuck her till she forgot her own name… until they both forgot everything for a while.

  His balls tightened. His heart hammered. With a growl, Con spilled inside her body, jets of his cum spirting and filling her up until it dripped out of her sweet pussy. He stayed locked inside her until their hearts stopped pounding. Then he pulled out slowly and loved how she whimpered when they were no longer connected.

  “Touch yourself,” he enticed. “Let me see.”

  Eve’s hand sailed down her belly and she dipped two fingers inside her pussy, coating her fingers with their combined pleasure. Then she started making fast circles around her folds, paying extra attention to the little nub that glistened.

  Constantine lowered himself down and licked, tongue fucking her as she rubbed herself. The taste was incredible. Addictive.

  Intoxicating.

  The world narrowed down to the size of this smoky, hide-lined hut, Constantine didn’t give a flying fuck about anything except being with Eve in the middle of this bleak, snowy, isolated hell on earth. She lived as secluded as Con felt and that told him all he needed to know.

  She was just as miserable as the rest of them. If he could give her a night of ecstasy, he would.

  Eve’s body stiffened and two flicks of his tongue later, she was gyrating against his mouth, her body arching, heels digging into the soft furs while her wings flexed and stiffened. The earth below them quaked. Embers in her fire sparked and crackled. And as Eve howled to the four winds, another gush of her pleasure coated his tongue. He swallowed it, greedily, feeling drunk and high on his woman.

  “Oh my God,” she cried, “Again. Again!”

  No problem, he thought. But first…. Con rose on his knees and leaned over her body, bracing himself with one arm. He gripped his cock and rubbed it against her core, forcing another orgasm to fly out of her. Eve’s mouth dropped into a silent scream. Her body was flushed, sweat dotted her skin. Her breaths punched out of her and her eyes blazed with desire he’d only seen in one other Angel…. Lucifer.

  The sudden thought of Luce never being able to do this with Eve was a cold splash of water down his back. He pulled away immediately wanting to roar with the injustice of their situation.

  No one deserved the lives they were forced to survive.

  “Constantine,” Eve whispered. “What’s wrong?”

  He leaned back on his ass and looked around. The hut. The wolf. The bare minimum. The icy conditions outside, the barely warm enough heat inside.

  Eve was living a life that reflected their pack perfectly. The coldness. The barely getting by. The loneliness.

  He didn’t want that for her. He didn’t want that for any of them.

  And yet… what could he do to ever make it be different?

  Swiping his mouth, he cringed. He should have never come here. He should have kept his distance. He just took a bite of the forbidden-to-his-brothers fruit this night.

  And already he craved more.

  “Fuck,” he snatched his clothes from the floor and didn’t even bother getting dressed. “Forgive me,” he said. And he wasn’t sure if he meant her or his brothers.

  In a panic, he pushed the flap open and left Eve right where he fucked her. To feel so full of life and gutted at the same time wasn’t punishment enough for what he’d just done. Taking off to the skies, he let the icy rain and slicing winds destroy any warmth he’d gained just now with Eve.

  And he vowed to never go back to her again…

  Constantine was a fool to think his past wouldn’t catch up with him eventually.

  Uriel, however, was a different male. An unapologetic, take-life-as-it-comes-and-be-grateful-for-it kind of Angel. If he had a chance to see her, he would. And if Uriel got a chance to touch her, he would use both hands and a lot more.

  Every once in a while, Uri’s guilt streak would get long enough to compel him to confess. He never went to Gabriel or Lucifer about it, but he always told Constantine his secrets. Con never made him feel bad about running to Eve. If knocking on her door from time to time was the worst of Uriel’s transgressions, he was doing just fine in life.

  Far better than the rest of them at least.

  Constantine couldn’t begrudge Uriel if that male knocked on Eve’s door. He loved her too. Loved her as much as the rest of them. Maybe they fucked. Maybe they didn’t. But Uriel took care of Eve in a hundred ways, and now Constantine wondered if Eve knew about all the times Uriel saved her when she was in a tight spot.

  She was, and would always be, theirs.

  And they took care of what was theirs.

  Besides, it was better to let Uriel do it anyway. Constantine knew better than to ever get so close to Eve again. After the night in the hut, he knew his limits. If he got too close, he’d touch her. If he touched her, he’d want her. If he wanted her…

  He’d have her.

  So yeah, he stayed back. All or none, right? Con agreed, whole-heartedly, with that goal. To this day, the guilt carried for loving her that night in the hut was still a heavy weight to carry.

  Lucifer thought she was dead. Gabriel hated even the sound of her name. Uriel was torn between heaven and hell. Constantine wasn’t about to add another layer of what-the-fuck-do-we-do-now to their barely together pack.

  If Eve could be with Lucifer, she would in a heartbeat. That she was always secluded and alone with her wolf meant one thing: it was still impossible for her to reach Hell. To stay somehow connected with her, Constantine wrote Eve all the time. But he rarely mailed the letters he poured his heart out in. The only ones delivered to her doorstep were of utmost importance.

  And now he just found out she’d never read a single fucking one of them.

  He shouldn’t feel hurt by that. He should have known better than to think she’d treat him any different than the others….

  “Fuck,” his elbows rested on his cluttered desk and he gripped the sides of his head. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

  He closed his eyes and she was freeze-framed in his mind’s eye.

  This was how his obsession ate away at him. She was the one thing he couldn’t have, and the only thing he wanted. Seeing her always did this. It spurred a terrible compulsion to claim and keep her. Worship and embrace her.

  But before he did any of that, he needed to come clean about everything.

  Chapter 17

  Lucifer sat outside of Gabriel’s unfurnished house. He didn’t want to be inside with Eve. And he didn’t want to go back to Hell to be with Gabriel and his brothers.

  “She’s loyal to a fault,” Lazarus said from behind him.

  Damn, but Lucifer didn’t want to talk right now. “Fuck off.”

  "She’s felt forgotten. Lost. Eve is beyond existing and has spent most of her life only barely surviving. She was mad at you for not finding her after the battle was over. Then she was mad because you had moved on."

  Lucifer's jaw clenched along with his heart. "I did try to find her."

  "You found revenge for her, that’s not the same."

  "She was dead. YOU," he snarled and shoved a finger at Lazarus, "you said she was gone."

  "Gone," Laz frowned. "Never said she was dead."

  Holy. Motherfucking. Shit. Lucifer's rage exploded and he snatched Lazarus by the throat and slammed his fist in the fucker's face. "You allowed us to believe she was dead!” Slam! “You had me volu
nteering for a job I never truly wanted!" Slam! Slam!

  "Didn't you?" Laz spat out a mouthful of blood. "You wanted nothing more than to be left alone. You wanted to be on your own and you wanted to protect. Raising Hell and ruling it gave you everything you ever wanted, Lucy."

  "Don't. Call. Me. Lucy." Lazarus no longer had the privilege of saying the Devil's true name. The one Eve herself had blessed him with.

  "When Eve realized you thought she was really dead, she tried countless times to make that true. Being in the human realm all alone broke her. At first, she went into survivor mode, with a little bit of hope and confidence that she was going to figure out how to be with all of you again. Then, after several horrific attempts to get into Hell or cross any divine barriers for that matter, she grew frantic. Next came exhaustion. After that... insanity. Then she turned feral. And I do mean feral. Eve couldn't speak, only snarl. She ate rotted animal corpses. Ran with the only beast who would have her."

  Anam. Lucifer wanted to puke.

  "Your brothers all did what they had to do in order to survive without their pack. So did Eve. Same as you."

  "She... she sent those women down to me."

  "She wanted you strong and happy. If not with her, then with someone else."

  "Was she with someone else too?"

  "That's the dumbest fucking question you've ever asked. And I know because I know everything." Lazarus spat on the ground again. Blood coated the grass red. "Does it matter who she's been with, if she had no choice but to move on?"

  "No," he said quietly. He hoped if she chose to be with another, she would have gone to one of his brothers. To think there was a possibility she would turn to anyone else made him feel sick. And if Eve was still the same female, she’d have been too stubborn to look elsewhere for love. She’d have waited for Gabriel, Constantine, or Uriel to come to her and never looked elsewhere.