“Enough.”
Uriel’s command halted Mephistopheles’ attack. Gabriel raised his sword only to find himself unable to wield it. His breath seized in his throat while the rapid pounding of his heart caused him to falter. His chest felt as if it were filled with tiny canon shots about to explode. He struggled to slow his heartbeat.
“You can do nothing.” Uriel’s voice dripped boredom. “I control your heart and lungs. Swear your loyalty to your sire if you wish to live.”
The clang of Gabriel’s sword as it hit the floor echoed in the room. He clutched his chest, struggling for each breath. Blood oozed from his pores, dark stains on his shirt and breeches. He fell to his knees, gasping for air.
“Surrender, Gabriel.”
“No,” he gasped, his fingers pressed against his chest.
Pain shot through his heart, a devastating constriction he couldn’t ease. Gabriel knew his body was dying and he met Uriel’s gaze. A smile settled on his lips as he drew in an agonizing breath. “Death is preferable to wallowing in pig shit.”
He collapsed to the floor, the pounding of his heart drowning all other sounds. As darkness began to close over his mind, Anne’s voice slammed into his awareness. You will not die, I won’t permit it.
He lowered his eyelids and gave a soft laugh. “So stubborn, life mate. We have no control over death. I love you, Anne.”
The sound a sword makes when drawn from its sheath echoed above him. Gabriel waited for it to fall, welcoming the end to his existence. Instead, Anne’s voice erupted in the room. “Release him, Uriel, or you will die alongside him.”
Gabriel lifted his eyelids to find his life mate standing before the Fallen archangel, the tip of her sword pressed against Uriel’s naked chest. The sword burst into flames and her scream filled the chamber. Uriel waved his hand and her body rose horizontally. With a flick of his finger, Satan’s second sent her flying to where Gabriel lay.
Anne fell heavily on top of him and his anguished howl sent waves of pain skirting through both of them. Uriel’s laughter penetrated his pain. “So foolish, Tamahaq. Do you truly believe you are my equal?”
Shards of lightning repeatedly struck Anne. Gabriel watched her body jerked wildly. He wasn’t sure how much longer they could withstand the pain. He had to end this. “Stop.”
Uriel walked over to where they lay. “Are you about to concede, Gabriel?” he asked.
Anne lifted her head, her breath coming in hard pants. She gazed at the thin scratch bisecting Uriel’s chest. She smirked as she raised her eyes to look at the Fallen angel. “I must be your equal if I can mark you so easily and draw blood.”
“Be silent, life mate,” Gabriel warned, his fingers gripping her arm.
She turned and pressed her lips to his. Pulling her head back, she frowned at the steady flow of blood from the many cuts that laced his chest. “Didn’t I ask you not to die?”
She leaned in to kiss him once more. Blood from a wound on her cheek dripped onto his lips. His tongue instinctively darted out to catch the life-sustaining liquid and his fangs dropped, the sharp tips lightly grazing his bottom lip.
“Feed,” she urged. He tried to turn his head and she pressed her neck against his mouth. “You are my life as I am yours. Feed beloved and live for me.”
Demonic laughter filled the room, followed by derisive taunts of “feed beloved.”
“Feed and become strong, Gabriel. Do this for me.”
Anne winced slightly at the tentative scrape of his fangs against her skin before the sharp bite. His fingers cupped her head, gently holding her in place as he drank. Discomfort quickly gave way to a sense of calm. Her blood flowed into his veins and Gabriel experienced a tinge of regret that he hadn’t tasted her when they made love. Reluctantly, he pulled away and ran his tongue across the bite marks. His hand shifted from the back of her head to her shoulder. Her body slumped against his. Anne?
When she didn’t respond he entered her mind. Panic struck and, lowering her head to his chest, he scratched a ragged tear in his flesh. Blood gushed from the wound and he placed her mouth over it. Drink.
Her body jerked as his blood flooded her throat. When she tried to pull away, he held her firm. Her eyelids fluttered then lifted.
“Gabriel?”
His lips brushed Anne’s bloodstained mouth. “We live together or we die together. Can you shift?” She shook her head. “Then we die.”
He kissed her once more before wrapping his arms around her. His gaze went to Uriel and Mephistopheles. “Tell Satan he has lost. I choose my life mate and allegiance to Lucifer.”
Gabriel closed his eyes and began to shrink the walls of his and Anne’s hearts. Her scream of agony was silenced with a kiss as he slowly forced the life from their bodies.
“Cease, Gabriel,” a soft voice said. “Your lives do not end this day. Raphael, Gabriel, take them from this place.”
Epilogue
Brightness crept between the thick folds of satin surrounding the large bed. The light pricked at the sensitive skin of Gabriel’s eyelids. Groaning, he squeezed them but the brightness was insistent. He turned slightly to avoid the light and felt the press of a warm body. Anne.
Opening his eyes, he gazed on his life mate. Her light snores brought a smile to his mouth and he leaned over to kiss her cheek. She stirred beneath the bedcovers without waking. His lips brushed her skin once more before he entered her mind and tenderly awakened her. Are you fully healed?
She mentally swatted at him before she snuggled deeper beneath the cover. Gabriel wasn’t to be deterred. His hand slid the bedcovers down her shoulders until her head and torso were exposed to his gaze. He ran his hand along her smooth hip until he reached the sweet spot between her thighs. He lightly stroked the flesh protecting her clitoris until her eyelashes lifted.
“I have a headache.”
“I have the cure,” he murmured and eased his finger past her vulva and into her channel. He leaned over and kissed her. Her soft moans fed his desire and his cock stiffened. Anne parted her legs to allow him entry. His finger dipped inside and slowly withdrew. “Would you like me to cure your headache, sweet Anne?”
The curtains abruptly parted. “Good morning, namesake. Is this an untimely visit?”
Gabriel cursed. “Go away, archangel.”
The archangel waved at the drapery and it disappeared. He grinned and drew up a chair to sit. Once he’d made himself comfortable, the angel said, “Good morning, Tamahaq. I see you’re recovered from your foolish attack on my brother. You really must curb this tendency to battle angels. Demons and the undead are one thing. Angels . . . well, I wouldn’t advise it.”
“Your foolish brother shouldn’t have tried to kill my life mate,” she retorted.
The archangel inclined his head. “True, which is why I’m here. We need to discuss the repercussions for both of your actions. The Fallen were not pleased with the disruption of their plans.”
Gabriel pulled the covers up over Anne and began to stroke her thigh. “Shall we talk later? At the moment I have more pressing matters than your brother’s snit.”
“Actually, we can’t postpone this discussion,” Raphael’s voice intruded.
Anne placed her hand over Demon’s and held it in place. “Good morning, Raphael.”
Demon frowned when the archangel appeared and perched at the foot of the bed. “I suppose it would be an inconvenience for both of you to leave and return midday, or tomorrow even? My life mate and I have unfinished matters to resolve.”
The archangel Gabriel laughed. “Actually, it would be an inconvenience after the effort I made to heed Raphael’s badgering to pay you a visit.”
“We won’t keep you from your play,” Raphael said. “Although you may want to hurry your activities after listening to what we have to say to both of you.”
“And why is that?”
Anne peered at her life mate. “Demon, there is no need to be rude.”
“He’s always a bit grumpy wh
en he hasn’t fed,” his guardian declared. “Anyway, it is time for you two to leave England.”
Anne sat up, her eyes bright with longing. “Leave? Does this mean I can go home?”
“You cannot return to Barbados, Tamahaq,” Raphael said. “It is too dangerous. Your destiny lies elsewhere.”
He strode over to the window. “You both live because Fate intervened, which was a surprise to all of us. She has never intervened directly. Even Satan demanded to know why she prevented your deaths. She replied that your purpose hasn’t been fulfilled but I don’t think the Seraphim was mollified. Anyway, Fate imposed a month’s truce. You and Demon have a fortnight before you set sail.”
“Where exactly are we going?” Gabriel demanded.
“Algeria. You, Anne, and the women of Holland’s League will begin new lives there.”
Both Anne and Gabriel spoke at once. “Why?”
“Examine your life thread and your blood, Tamahaq,” her guardian said.
She did and gasped when she noticed the difference. “This cannot be. How? No female undead has ever been born or created.”
Gabriel slipped into her mind and saw what she saw. He glanced at the two archangels. “We shared blood. Why am I not changed? Why is Anne’s life thread the only one altered?”
Raphael stared out the window, his wings taut against his body. “I don’t know, Gabriel. Anne, you are the first Tamahaq to carry undead blood in your veins. Can you change your shape?”
She shifted into a leopard and leapt from the bed. She sauntered over to Raphael and rubbed up against his leg. He chuckled when she purred loudly. Returning to her true form and clothing herself, she stood beside him. “It felt no different from any other time I’ve assumed a form not my own. I don’t understand.”
“I have no idea what this means for you or your life mate but I fear you must remain in hiding for the rest of your lives.” In a rare display of angelic emotion, Raphael pulled her into his embrace. “Only Fate knows the reason for what you now are, Tamahaq.”
“She came to me,” Anne said softly. “When she said I would bear Gabriel children, I thought, I believed, they would be like the Tamahaq or human. Now . . . .”
She moved from the archangel’s arms. “I need to see to the women of Holland’s League. I’m sure Gabriel will want to visit his father and brother.”
“You have a fortnight, Tamahaq. Mephistopheles is nursing the wounds your life mate inflicted.”
“Uriel?”
Raphael sighed. “Like his liege, he plays a wait and see game. For now, the ones you protect and care for are included in the truce. Your witches are safe. Do not delay your journey. The Fallen are not known for their patience or sense of fair play.”
She walked over to where Gabriel stood in quiet conversation with his angelic namesake. The archangel looked at her and bowed respectfully. “Tamahaq, you honor your ancestress.”
Anne couldn’t stifle a tiny gasp at the gesture and the abruptness of his departure. Gabriel pulled her into his arms, his mouth brushing across hers before he lifted his head. He gave her a wicked grin.
“A fortnight? We have time to play before we must depart, sweet Anne.”
He kissed her deeply, his tongue possessive and determined. She gave as good as she received. When they finally separated, they were both breathing heavily. “It seems I am an apt pupil, my lord.”
Laughter burst from his lips and he reclaimed her mouth. It was a gentle kiss, a proclamation of his love for her. This time, when he lifted his head, she was the breathless one.
“I’m aware of that, Tamahaq.” He slapped her ass hard enough to elicit pain before he tenderly smoothed it away. She glared at him. He shrugged. “You could have died when you attacked Uriel.”
Her face serious, Anne laid her palm against his chest. “Had you died, my life would have ended. I cannot live without you.”
“Now you must live like me,” he said bitterly. “You will need blood to survive. Your children will be born undead. It is not a life I would choose for you.”
“I love you. It is a life I can accept as long as you are part of it. As to our children,” she shrugged. “They will be Tamahaq or Imohag, and may or may not require blood to sustain them. We can’t predict the path Fate has chosen for them, Demon.”
Anne shape-changed into a golden desert hawk. She flew to the bed and settled herself on it. The hawk’s beak opened. “Come, we need not leave until tomorrow.”
She resumed her body. She was as naked as Gabriel was. “Are there other lessons you wish to teach me?”
Her squeal provoked Gabriel’s laughter when she found herself flat on her back, her arms and legs spread apart. Silk ribbons appeared and drifted down to wrap themselves around her wrists and ankles. He stood over her, a satisfied grin on his lips.
“If I didn’t adore the little noises you make when you climax,” Gabriel drawled, “I’d use a piece of silk to silence that saucy tongue of yours.”
“There are other ways to find peace,” she said before she claimed his mouth.
Dear Readers,
Thank you so much for reading Fate’s Kiss. I hope you enjoyed Anne and Gabriel’s story. Please leave a review on your retail, blog, or book sites. Reviews help readers discover new books and voices. Your reviews also provide feedback to authors and many of us appreciate it.
Acknowledgments
Eternal gratitude to Black women romance authors. You inspire and encourage me to write stories of happily ever after with Black women at the center. What can I say about Mia Heintzelman, my BWP, and Elizabeth Spaur (critique & coffee partner) except: you two rock!
I am an academic who is also a romance author. My plots are often based on the research I’ve done for years. This book (and the Daughters of Saria series) owes a debt to Black women like Mary Neale, “Queen of Morocco,” a seventeenth-century sex worker and white women like Elizabeth Holland, a seventeenth-century brothel owner. For many early modern English women, regardless of race and class, the sex trade was a means to independence as much as it was a dangerous existence. These two Englishwomen apparently were successful enough at what they did to make it into historical archives.
Thank you Tricia Lynne. You know why.
Thank you Rebecca Poole and Dreams2Media for the cover and Nicole Falls for your skills as a proofreader. Mistakes are always mine.
As always, this is for Sydney (ChildofMine). You keep me honest, laughing, and I treasure you more than you can know.
About the Author
Elysabeth Grace writes paranormal, contemporary, and historical romances where love and HEAs accept no impediments. Her stories and characters are diverse, sensual, and occasionally wicked. A native Californian and emerita Professor of English literature, she currently resides in Las Vegas where she remains an unrepentant academic scholar of Shakespeare and other things. In addition to her four-book paranormal series Daughters of Saria, she is working on a contemporary series, Midsummer Sisters, and a pair of interracial historical novels set in the age of Elizabeth I.
For information on new releases, contests, and giveaways, please visit her website: www.elysabethgrace.com
Also by Elysabeth Grace
Daughters of Saria
Fate's Kiss
Fate's Match
Midsummer Sisters
Your Heart Only
Watch for more at Elysabeth Grace’s site.
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