My cheeks heat, knowing the Fallen will have heard her whisper. “They’re just my friends,” I tell her, both for her benefit and my own. I can’t deny my increased awareness of the Fallen has caused some confusion. Though I am still angry and resent them for their secret, I can’t deny the ever-present pull which is only growing stronger with every day.
Zeke and Adrian appear in front of us, both of them wearing backpacks full of canteens and snacks for our picnic when we reach the top of the trail.
“Ready?” Adrian asks, looking at Annie with nothing short of a flirtatious smile.
My best friend grins. “Ready.”
Adrian gestures to the trail. “After you.”
Annie ties her hair into a pony tail, and her long ebony hair swings with each step as she begins the hike. Adrian falls into step beside her, his black hair and broad back complimenting Annie’s slender height nicely.
A stab of jealousy hits me. I frown and tell myself to stop being ridiculous.
Gravel shifts beside me. “Ready to go?”
I look at Zeke. He shifts his backpack, looking unsure of himself. It hits me that, like his brother, I haven’t been alone with Zeke for some time.
I follow after Adrian and Annie. They disappear from sight as they take the first curve. I estimate they have about a fifty-foot lead. Zeke picks up his pace to catch up, then slows down to match my strides. I keep my eyes on the trail, absentmindedly marking different bushes and trees as we walk.
Zeke and I keep a steady pace. Up ahead, I notice the distance between us and our companions increases. Annie is in great shape, and she doesn’t look at all winded as she and Adrian maintain a conversation throughout the hike.
Again, I force away an ugly emotion. This time, it’s envy.
What is going on with me? So what if Annie is beautiful? It makes no difference to me. Adrian can talk to whoever he wants. I don’t care.
Liar.
The voice in my head taunts me. I stumble. I back away and throw my hands up before Zeke can reach out to help me. “I’m fine.”
He pulls back.
Zeke is watching me. He stops walking. I follow suit. Whatever he is about to say, it will be better if Annie doesn’t overhear. Even with my enhanced hearing, their footsteps are already almost inaudible.
We stand there for several seconds, staring at each other. I have no idea what Zeke is thinking. Is he wondering why I backed away from his touch? Does he know why I don’t want to make contact? Or does he think something else is wrong with me?
Lips pressed together, I don’t voice a single question, content to wait for him to break the tenuous silence between us.
At last, Zeke releases a tired sigh. He stares at the branches above us, his hands resting on his hips. “What is going on, Ron?”
“What do you mean?” My voice sounds steady despite my trembling fingers. Zeke met me when I was a starry-eyed fourteen-year-old. If any of the Fallen has figured out how to read my emotions, it would be Zeke. The others met me much later when I became better at concealing such things. Though, I still wasn’t an expert.
Zeke’s attention moves from the trees back to me. His eyes zero in on my hands, immediately noting the nervous movement. I clear my throat, drawing his gaze back to my face.
“Zeke?”
“You’ve been distant.”
“Distant?”
“You don’t want to train with any of us anymore.”
Four days. That’s how long it took for one of the Fallen to finally discuss my lack of training with me. I don’t doubt they’ve talked about it amongst themselves several times. I wonder if this was a planned inquiry or if Zeke is going off script by finally addressing the subject.
Not having expected this conversation in this moment, I think carefully about how to answer. I can be dismissive, but that will only make Zeke more curious. I decide to stick as close to the truth as possible.
“Training with my powers wasn’t working.”
“Not yet, but with more practice I am sure it will be.” Zeke sounds hopeful. Instead of encouraging me like he intends, I feel my temper rise.
Zeke knows the ward is responsible for my unsuccessful training. But does he intend to help me get rid of it or even bother to tell me about it? Of course not. He and the other three Fallen don’t mind keeping my powers contained. They want power over me. They want to control me.
My breathing accelerates, matching pace with my racing thoughts. The Fallen are determined to keep me weak. They need me to depend on them. The resentment which had taken root in me the past couple of days grows like a vine, wrapping itself around my heart and lungs, squeezing them in a debilitating vice.
I bend over, sucking in air, but unable to catch my breath. I fall to my knees and throw my hands out to catch me before I hit the ground.
“Ron?” Zeke steps forward. Again, I hold up a hand to keep him at bay. This time, though, my voice is not strong when I say, “I’m fine.”
“Like hell you are,” Zeke says, undeterred by my staying gesture. He crouches down beside me and places a firm hand on my shoulder to help keep me from falling onto my face. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Even if I wanted to, I can’t form a single word. Not even a sound. The skin under Zeke’s hand ignites. I’ve never felt anything so strong. Contact with the Fallen has always elicited tingles or made me shiver, but never something like this. I feel like my entire body is on fire. But not in a painful way. My core tightens. I raise my head, longing to drown in the depths Zeke’s ocean blue eyes.
Zeke sucks in a breath. His eyes flare. Whatever he sees in my expression, it must be something. “Ron?”
My pendulum of emotions leaves me off balance. I don’t understand what’s happening. All I know is I want to feel more of this feeling. All over my body. Desire gives me the strength to push off my hands and straighten my back. I ignore the sharp sting of gravel under my knees. All I care about is getting closer to Zeke.
Zeke moves his hands to the sides of my head, holding me steady. He peers into my eyes, searching for a hint of whatever is happening to me. I sway towards him, but his fingers press into my hair to keep me still.
“Talk to me.” He leans closer, and I inhale the scent of leather and sweat. I grip his forearms and dig my fingers into his skin. He’d abandoned his jacket prior to starting the hike.
“You smell nice.”
Zeke’s concern grows. “Veronica?”
I pout. “Don’t call me that.” He never calls me Veronica. I want to hear him use the nickname he gave me. It makes me feel special—like the connection I’d imagined we had was real. Not due to some ridiculous Fallen Angel stuff, just a link based on the fact that we have things in common. I want to believe we have the stuff that makes normal people a good match.
Zeke gives my head a gentle shake. “Whatever is happening, Ron, I need you to snap out of it.”
My grip tightens. “Nothing is happening.” Nothing that I don’t want to happen.
One moment, I’m staring at Zeke, willing him to close the distance between us. The next, I take matters into my own hand.
Not giving him the chance to stop me, I pull my hands down, bringing his elbows with me. Then, I lean forward and press my lips against his.
Sixteen
I’m embarrassed to say it, but I’ve imagined my first kiss hundreds of times. Underneath a sky full of stars, in the middle of a rain storm, after an argument when I felt sure a growing relationship was about to end—pretty much every cliché you can imagine. But no matter what romantic scenario my adolescent mind created, one thing remained the same ever since I was fourteen: Zeke was always the one who gave me my first kiss.
Though we spent such a small amount of time together, he’d left a mark. Zeke was aloof but caring. Quiet, yet friendly. Not to mention I thought he was the most handsome guy I’d ever seen. I fancied myself in love with him all those years ago, and I’d dreamed of a future when we might one day end up together. Of cour
se, that all changed over the years. I grew up, and I recognized my early crush for what it was. But that didn’t mean I stopped imagining what it would be like to share my first kiss with him—something I never revealed to anyone. Not even Annie.
But the heart remembers. And my heart has taken control.
My hands move from his arms to his neck. I hold Zeke as I press my lips against his. My heart is pounding against my ribs, and I move in time with its beat. I don’t think. I don’t dare. I am lost in this moment. It feels right—better than anything I could have ever conjured in my dreams.
Beneath me, Zeke is frozen. His rigid frame presses against my fingertips. Our connection reveals conflicting feelings. Unease. Desire. Longing. Guilt. I drink them in, and I shift forward, refusing to let Zeke talk himself out of this moment. I’ve waited too long. I won’t let it slip away.
My chest presses against his, and I increase the pressure behind my lips. Zeke’s fingers flex. I’m not sure if he is about to push me away or pull me tighter. My soul sings when he does the latter.
The hands holding my head wrap around my waist and back. Zeke groans. I worry it’s a sound of discomfort. Then, he tilts my head to deepens the kiss, taking the situation into his control. I gladly hand him the reigns, my body bending to his will.
His palms press against me, threatening to ignite my clothes and burn them away. My chest is flush against his, I find it amazing there is even room to breathe. Zeke holds onto me like he never wants to let me go, and I am perfectly fine with the notion.
My fingers move up into his hair, scratching his scalp. I’m rewarded with another groan, and this time I know it’s not a sound of discomfort. Zeke’s thumb brushes against the exposed skin between my t-shirt and shorts. Jolts of electricity emanate from the touch, and I want him to touch me everywhere. I want to feel the exhilarating sensation all over my body.
“What the hell?” I’m pretty sure nothing but Adrian’s shout could have broken the spell Zeke’s kiss put me under. Our lips break apart, but both of us continue to hold one another. We’ve been caught, and I know I should let Zeke go, but my hands refuse to comply. It’s almost like my body can’t bear the thought of letting him go. Now that I’ve overcome my reservations and finally embraced him like I’d wanted to for so long, I’m afraid I may never have the chance to do this again.
But is that what you even want?
Doubt trickles into my mind. Do I want to kiss Zeke again? This complicates things. After all, its not just Zeke who claims to have a connection with my soul. What will the other Fallen think if I suddenly choose to pursue a relationship with Zeke? They’d be pissed. Or, worse, they’d be hurt.
I slide my fingers out of Zeke’s hair and avert my eyes, suddenly embarrassed. Did I really just throw myself at Zeke? And did Adrian really just catch us?
“Zeke.” Adrian’s voice is deathly low. “What. The. Hell?”
Call it divine intervention, or perhaps just impeccable timing, but Lukas chooses that moment to reappear into my life, lips parted and already formulating his request.
“Veronica, your services are requested this instance.”
I stare, wide-eyed, feeling like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
Before I can say anything, the Light Fallen snaps his fingers and I disappear from the hiking trail.
I come to my senses right as the world rights itself. Now that I have distance from the Fallen, I realize I made a huge mistake by kissing Zeke. It might not be so bad if Adrian hadn’t seen us, but now that he has, I will be forced to try and explain why I threw myself at the Dark Angel. Will I finally be forced to tell them about my dismantled ward? Will I need to explain how my connection to them is driving me crazy with desire? Just thinking about confessing my feelings makes my stomach hurt. I’m not ready for that. I’m starting to suspect I’ll never be ready.
That’s when I notice Lukas’ bloodied shirt and disheveled hair. All of my worries fly out the window as I search him for injuries. I’ve never seen the Light Fallen look so out of sorts, not even on the night Charles had been knocking on death’s door.
“What is it?” I grab Lukas’ arm. “What’s happened?” We stand in an unfamiliar room in his mansion. I’ve explored the home enough to recognize its furnishings and architecture.
Lukas places a palm on my back, and I jerk away. The memory of Zeke’s burning touch is too intense—too recent. The idea of anyone else touching me feels wrong.
Lukas retracts his hand, not at all concerned by my reaction. “A fellow soldier is in a dire condition. He needs your healing if he has any hope of surviving.”
Aside from Charles, I don’t know any of the angels Lukas summons me to heal. But that has no impact on my desire to help them. Every male or female Lukas brings me to is always suffering grave injuries—injuries which would have killed a human within minutes. It’s still difficult for me to grasp how anyone could endure wounds such as torn and bloody wings or gutted stomachs. I know they’re angels, but even angels experience pain. I know from experience.
And now that I know they are fighting the Darkness in the world, I am even more willing to help. “Take me to my patient.”
Lukas leads me down the hallway. We enter a parlor, not a bedroom like I’d expected. I note the tile stained with fresh blood and the agonizing moans of the Fallen soldier lying on the other side of the room. He is stretched out on an upholstered chaise longue. Maroon stains cover the fabric, ruining the expensive piece of furniture.
But a chair is replaceable. A Fallen Angel is not.
I cross the room in ten steps. Matted hair and smeared blood cover the angel’s face. It might be better that way.
I observe the deep puncture wound just beneath his left rib cage. I recall the spleen is located just under the last rib, thankful I haven’t forgotten everything from my anatomy class during junior year. I can seal the wound with no problem, but if he punctured the organ, more power will be required to heal the damage and clear any residual toxins from his body.
I focus on the Angel Fire deep within my chest and guide it to my fingertips. I know I’ve succeeded when my finger pads begin to glow softly. Then, my hands illuminate. I’m getting faster at drawing on my power. Soon, Lukas suspects I will be able to summon it with one simple thought. No focus required.
I shift closer to the injured angel. His complexion is a sickly gray.
“This may hurt a little,” I murmur. Not waiting for a response, I touch the tender flesh just around the puncture would, cringing at the discomfort I know I am about to cause.
But it is me who suffers.
Searing pain travels up my arms and lands in the space below my ribs. I gasp and think Lukas is using his powers on me again, but one glance confirms he is on the other side of the chaise, watching the injured male before he feels my attention on him.
“Veronica?” Concern fills his voice as he sees my face. “What is it?”
My tongue feels swollen. I cannot form words. I feel like I can’t breathe.
I almost remove my hands from the angel, but I abandon the idea the moment I look back at his nasty wound. Forcing myself to ignore the pain, I push Angel Fire through my fingers and into the Fallen’s torso.
The angel arches, as the brunt of my power enters his body, but he doesn’t scream. Sweat gathers on my brow, but I don’t dare wipe it away. I maintain contact and push wave after wave of my power into him. I imagine the flesh of the delicate organ fusing back together. I picture his blood running clear of harmful enzymes and toxins. Time is lost to me. I’m not sure how long I work, but I refuse to stop until I know every last cell is repaired.
Finally, I see muscles stitching themselves, creating an invisible seam as the skin is repaired. His gray pallor turns to a healthy pink. I withdraw my hands, and my arms shake from the effort. My legs wobble as I attempt to step back, and I don’t try to stop them from folding beneath me. I sit on the floor beside the chaise, struggling to catch my breath.
“Is it done?” Lukas asks, still standing behind the couch.
“Yes.” I use my t-shirt sleeve to wipe the sweat from my face. “He should wake soon.” The angel has lost consciousness. No doubt, it was the only way his body could endure the pain of the healing. I could use a nap myself. That was, by far, the most exhausting healing I’ve ever performed. Not even Charles’ wings had been more difficult. I wonder if that’s because I’d had Lukas’ powers pushing me to act.
Tension releases from Lukas’ shoulders, and he whispers, “Thank God.”
I want nothing more than to leave the parlor and seek comfort in one of Lukas’ many guest rooms, but I can’t leave the angel in such a filthy state.
“Can I get a tub of warm water?” I ask Lukas, already leaning forward to unbutton the ripped shirt from my patient. I’m relieved when my touch doesn’t immediately cause another stab of pain. “I want to wash the blood away.”
“Uh… I think it may be best if you left.”
I look up, my fingers holding onto a button and the damaged clothing. “Why?”
Lukas shifts, and I see his eyes dart to the door. Is he waiting for someone?
Before I can voice the question, loud footsteps echo throughout the parlor, seeming to appear out of thin air. “Where is he?”
I freeze. I know that voice.
Slowly, I look over my shoulder and confirm that Joseph, my protector and ex-teacher, is stomping through the room with a cloud of fury trailing after him. I gasp and turn back around.
Crap.
“Where is he?” Joseph demands again when no one answers. For one second, my heart almost stops when I think he is there to find me. But I realize he must be talking about the angel in front of me. Is my patient his friend? The possibility makes me glad my treatment was so thorough.
“Right here,” Lukas motions to the Fallen in front of me. I inch backwards, keeping my face forward as Joseph closes the distance between us. He gazes down at the angel’s dirty face, standing no more than two feet from me.
Hunted by the Fallen: A Fallen Angel Reverse Harem Novel (The Fallen Harem Book 2) Page 11
