He still didn’t know how he’d burned him.
The man had been standing in front of him, talking to him. Had said her name, his Destiny’s other name, the one she used to pretend she wasn’t who she really was, and at the sound of that name (Ms. Sheridan), something in him had cracked, like a fissure in the bowels of the Earth. The him he’d once been (Gilbert) fell into the abyss, and the fire crawling over the him he now was burned the air between him and the cop.
He’d watched the cop shriek a silence scream. Watched smooth skin blister, blacken, melt…
A voice from a dying part of his mind screamed as well, the part belonging to the him he used to be (Gilbert). That voice begged him to undo it all. To take it all back. Oh God, take it back!
But the fire engulfed that pathetic plea as ferociously as it engulfed the cop.
Destroyed it.
Used it.
And fed him.
Empowered him.
And the more the cop burned, the more he became aware of a tugging sensation in the void once filled by his soul.
A dark, hungry tug eager for him (Wraif) to come.
As the charred lump of flesh and bone that had once been the foolish cop smoldered at his feet, he closed his eyes and gave himself over to the tug.
…waitingforyouwraifwantyouneedyoucometomewraiffindme…
Destiny.
His Destiny. He needed to go to her. The angel had her. He needed to take her back from the angel.
You need to be stronger, the soundless voice guiding and helping him whispered in his head. To face down the angel, to take back that which belongs to you, you need to be stronger.
Fury roared through Wraif. He stared at the blackened corpse at his feet, seeking out its energy.
Nothing. It was all gone. Depleted.
He balled his fists, sinking his nails into his palms. No! How would he rescue his Destiny if he—
You know how, the soundless voice chided.
Loosening his fists, Wraif shook out his shoulders and laughed.
He did. Of course he did.
* * * *
Erah smiled. As relaxed and calm as always.
“You look frazzled, brother.” He settled back deeper in the armchair, and threaded his fingers behind his head. His long blond hair—normally braided and contained with a beaten gold band—slipped loose over his shoulders, like a waterfall of pale honey. “What ails you?”
Nathanial kept his own expression blank, even as a wave of charged energy swept through him, heightening…everything. When in close proximity, angels fed off each other’s force, a natural and automatic defense system they had no control over. It ensured one angel was never more powerful than another, their force ever flowing between them. And if one angel went down, surrounding angels were still charged with equal vitality. A divine reinforcement, as such, to aid their strength.
Nathanial had not drawn on the potency of another angel in centuries. Erah’s force flowed into him now, igniting sensations long denied him.
Sensations, and a raw current of unfathomable might.
“Feel better?” A soft laugh danced on Erah’s question. “Had your fill yet?”
Nathanial swallowed. His body thrummed. His soul did the same. And yet, it wasn’t enough. How could it be? He’d been denied for so long, he hadn’t realized how starved he was, how thirsty, like a man suddenly allowed to breathe again, or a fish thrown back into the ocean after hours left in the sun on the beach.
Sucking in a steadying breath, he allowed his eyes to close for a brief second, savoring the rush, and then returned his attention to Erah.
Erah’s blue gaze held his, enigmatic. Impossible to read. But a slow smile played with the corners of Erah’s lips, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his denim-clad knees. “I have miss you, brother.”
The declaration stirred a deep longing in Nathanial’s core. Of all his fellow angels, Erah was the one he’d allied with the most. Both created for battle, both charged with the protection of Heaven’s gates, both ready to die for each other.
Until the light that was Billie…
The thrumming in his body and core faded, replaced instead with an urge to hurry to her room, to check on her.
He couldn’t. Erah was here, in the same plane of reality as Billie, the reason for Nathanial’s fall.
“You remained silent when I called,” he said, watching Erah’s face closely.
Erah smiled. “You were worried about me?”
“Perhaps.”
Erah’s smile widened.
Nathanial sighed. “I thought you’d decided to shun me after all.”
Erah lifted himself from the armchair—innately graceful as always—and closed the small distance between them. “I was busy.”
Nathanial straighten to his feet, stare holding the other angel’s, ready for the strike. His wings flared. His jaw clenched.
With another smile, Erah cupped the back of Nathanial’s neck and gently pressed his forehead to his. “Ah, my brother, I really have missed you.”
For a fleeting moment, Nathanial gave himself over to the intimate contact and closed his eyes. And then stepped to the side, breaking the touch.
Erah watched him, eyes flashing iridescent for a split second. “Why do you call me? Are you aching for the company of your own kind?”
For me?
The clarification whispered through Nathanial’s mind, Erah’s voice relaxed and confident.
They’d been so close, he and Erah. And then Nathanial had divulged everything to him about Billie and been cast out.
“Do you need my help?” Erah smiled again, returning to the armchair and dropping into it. “Your wings preened?”
Nathanial grunted. “I forgot about your woeful sense of humor. The one thing about you I do not miss.”
“But you do miss me.” Erah nodded, and once again threaded his fingers behind his head. The action stretched the white T-shirt he wore tighter over his broad chest. Emphasized the muscular frame of his torso. “I am happy now.”
Crossing the living room, Nathanial closed the door leading down the hallway. If Billie was to leave her room, come looking for him, maybe the closed door would stop her. He couldn’t have Erah knowing she was here.
Hiding her existence in the house from his brother was easy. A simple tweak of reality. As long as Erah didn’t see her.
“A soul transaction is disrupting the Order of Actuality, Erah,” he said, getting right to the point. As inconceivable as it was, now that Erah was here, Nathanial didn’t like the idea of him lingering.
Why?
Why what, brother? What are you not wanting me to know?
“Get out of my head, Erah,” he instructed, turning back to the living room.
Erah grinned. “Tell me what you don’t want me to know, and I will.”
Nathanial rolled his eyes. “If you must… Yes, I have missed you. Greatly.”
“Was that so hard?” Now what are you not telling—
“I said,” Nathanial growled, “out of my head.”
Erah raised an eyebrow, and shifted in the armchair. “Okay, okay. I forgot how often you made having fun boring. Tell me about this soul transaction. Why is it worthy of an angel’s attention? Who cares what the fools do down here with their souls?”
Letting out a ragged sigh, Nathanial returned to his chair and perched on one of its arms. “This transaction is not normal. I can’t find the one who orchestrated it. No demon is laying claim to it—and trust me, I have questioned the usual suspects—”
“Did you make them suffer?” Erah’s eyes flashed. His perfect teeth glinted in the room’s muted light. “Please tell me you made them suffer. You were so good at it, brother. You made it look like art. Watching you at work…” Erah closed his eyes and let out a satisfied groan.
“They suffered.”
The screams of the demons he’d interrogated to learn what Gilbert had done with his soul still lingered in Nathanial’s memories. W
hat he’d done to those demons…
Bile bubbled up at the back of his throat.
Angels were free to deal with demons in any way they saw fit, but the way Nathanial had elicited answers in his questioning, even for a fallen angel, one not so restricted by the Laws… Well, God would have turned His back on Nathanial—if He hadn’t already.
“Good.” Erah nodded, pleased. “I’m glad you haven’t gone soft down here. So no demon is responsible. Problematic, to be sure. And unusual. So you think it’s another fallen who initiated the deal? What’s the deal with the transaction, do you know? Specific details.”
And here’s where it gets tricky.
Telling Erah the specifics meant revealing Gilbert had sold his soul for Billie. How was Erah going to react to that?
“The soul was sold in exchange for the love of a female.” How clinical and detached he sounded. “But for reasons still mysterious to me, the transaction has elevated the original owner to…something else.”
Erah’s eyebrows lifted. “Something else? Can you be more specific? Why do I feel like you’re edging around all the information? It would be easier if you allowed me into your—”
“The thing about being a fallen, brother,” Nathanial cut him off with a gentle smile on his lips, “is that you get used to not having anyone else tromping about in your head. The absence of the angel hive mind is something I’ve grown to appreciate.”
Erah studied him, expression once again impossible to decipher. “This is a different side to you, Nathanial,” he murmured. “It’s…captivating.”
Nathanial stayed motionless. Would Erah ignore his request to stop slipping into his mind? And if so, what would he do? He would not, could not, allow Erah in there, and not just to keep Billie’s location a secret. For everything he missed about his existence before his fall, the lack of privacy from his fellow angels did not rate among them.
The autonomy of his fallen status was freeing.
“Okay.” Erah rested his ankle on his bent knee and jiggled his biker-boot-shod foot. “Let’s have another go at telling me what the problem is then. Use your big-boy words, brother.”
A growl rumbled deep in Nathanial’s chest.
Erah raised his hands. “Sorry. Sorry. Trying to lighten the mood. You’re not making this easy, though.”
He wasn’t.
Erah had, after all, told him to come to the realm of man, fuck Billie from his system, and then forget she ever existed.
For all their sakes.
And in response, Nathanial had sank his sword, the weapon given to him by his Creator, deep into Erah’s chest.
Their relationship had deteriorated after that.
“Brother.” Erah leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Behind him, the air shimmered as his wings flexed. Powerful, resplendent, white. “Whatever it is, I want to help you.”
A gentle wave of comfort caressed Nathanial—Erah’s will. Erah’s soul. Reaching out to him.
You called him. He’s the only one who can help. He can find Gilbert. He can find the fallen who caused this to happen.
“Let me help you,” Erah said. “Please.”
Without looking at the closed living room door, Nathanial felt for Billie. She was asleep.
Finally.
Deep, dreamless sleep.
Good.
Intensifying the shield concealing her from an angel’s senses, he let out a breath.
“Gilbert Sanders, a man obsessed to the point of depraved insanity with Wilhelmina Sheridan, sold his soul to make her his, but the sale has transmuted him into something darker than anything I’ve experienced.” He stopped, swiped at his mouth, and locked his gaze on Erah. “And I can’t risk tapping into his thread because his consuming lust for her feeds my own.”
Chapter 5
Okay, so it was morning.
Sitting up, Billie squinted at the ridiculously cheery sun streaming through the windows.
Damn it, should have pulled the curtains before climbing into bed, eh?
Yeah, that would have been smart. Especially the ones she’d pulled all the way open in her ill-formed plan to throw herself through the window.
She tentatively rolled her shoulder, the one she knew she’d shattered in her not-so-graceful fall.
Nope. Not a single twinge of pain.
Nathanial had taken it all away.
Which wasn’t the reason she hadn’t tried to escape again. Although it did contribute. Somewhat.
The kiss…
“Jesus.” Throwing off the sheet, she climbed out of bed and shuffled/lurched to the door.
There had to be a bathroom in this place somewhere, and she needed to pee. Big time.
Do angel’s pee?
“Oh my God, Sheridan.” She rolled her eyes and stepped out into the hallway. “Don’t even go there.”
The room on her left was what looked like an office. But as with the rest of Nathanial’s style, it was insanely minimalistic in décor. A thriving peace lily plant filled one corner, and a large white canvas hung on the wall. The only thing on the canvas that she could see was a small smiley face emoji in the center, drawn on with what looked like black magic marker.
A glass and steel desk—complete with black leather chair—sat facing the large, curtain-free open window, beyond which was what looked like a dense redwood forest. The only things on the desk were a closed laptop and an empty wine glass.
Her lips twitched. Did he just fill up the glass with a wave of his hand when he was working? And what exactly did an angel use a laptop for?
She couldn’t imagine he’d need to access Google.
Pornhub?
With another quick glance at the hand-drawn smiley face, she closed the door and moved to the room on the opposite side of the hallway.
“Wow.”
It had to be his bedroom. For no other reason than it looked almost identical to the one she’d slept in with the exception of the pile of neatly stacked khaki chinos and blue jeans on the chair under the window, and a bottle of male deodorant on one of the side tables.
A giggle bubbled up through her chest. An angel using Axe. Sure. Why not?
Before she could stop herself, she stepped into the room and drew a slow breath.
His scent filled her. It was ridiculous to think she knew what he smelled like, but she did.
Even more ridiculous was how his scent made her feel. Calm. Complete.
She let out a wry grunt. If there was such a thing as Stockholm Syndrome Anonymous, when all this was over, she was joining.
Despite that, she pulled a deeper breath, eyes fluttering closed for a second, and then crossed to the bed. Running her fingers over the white linen duvet, she studied the immaculate cover, the matching pillows.
An image of Nathanial curled on his side in the middle of it, naked save for a pair of dark boxers, wings stretched out and relaxed on the mattress, filled her head.
“Definitely joining SSA when this is all over,” she whispered, removing her fingertips from the bed. Did he actually require sleep?
“Well, he requires deodorant, so…”
The giggles attacked her again, snorting through her nose this time as she tried to contain them. And of course, the more she giggled, the more she needed to pee.
“Loo,” she muttered. “Find it.”
She hurried from the room, pausing at the threshold for one more deep breath before closing the door and crossing to the one on the right of hers.
“Ah. Found you.”
She didn’t waste time admiring the stunning bathroom. The toilet called.
Deed done a few moments later, she took in the room as she washed her hands. “Wow,” she whispered.
A massive clawed-footed bath sat in the middle of the marble-tiled room, directly under a waterfall showerhead that looked like it belonged in a movie about billionaires. One entire wall was mirrored, and the pristine-white towels hanging on the racks looked fluffier and thicker than any she’d ever seen.
Speakers were positioned high in each corner, along with a white cylinder speaker on a shelf near the window.
Huh. A HomePod. What does an angel like to listen to while cleaning himself?
“Hey Siri,” she said, eying the high-tech device. “Continue playing.”
The sounds of Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” flooded the room.
Loudly.
“Shit!” she startled. “Hey Siri, stop! Stop!”
Silence.
Heart thumping fast in her throat, she slumped against the counter and let out a shaky laugh.
Okay, so he had good taste in music. She had to give him that.
Returning her attention to the bath, she plucked at her thumbnail. It was too easy picturing him standing in it, face lifted to the overhead shower, naked body glistening as water streamed over his muscles and—
“Oh boy.” She buried her hot face in her palms. “Stop that.”
In her head, she joined him in the shower. Stepped into the bath and smoothed her hands up his exquisite torso. He turned his face from the water and smiled down at her, his hands trailing a slow path down her ribs to cup her arse. Squeeze it as he drew her closer to his—
“Stop stop stop.” She about-faced, flicked on the tap and splashed cold water on her hot face.
It didn’t help. She imagined him stepping up behind her, hands kissing her hips, lips kissing the back of her neck.
“Oh man,” she groaned, gripping the basin’s edge. When her mother said giving oneself over to the angels was the best way to a fulfilled life, she bet her mum never had this in mind.
Opening her eyes, she glared at herself in the mirror. “Get a grip.”
Her reflection glared back, and then flicked another glance at the opulent bathtub.
“Seriously,” she growled. Teeth gritted, she yanked open the top drawer. Toothpaste. That’s what she needed. Toothpaste. She’d rinse her mouth out and head back to her room. Maybe via Nathanial’s bedroom. A blast of Axe under the arms would make do as a stop-gap until she was back home and could have a proper shower.
Or you could just ask Nathanial to join you in his—
She damn near squeezed half the tube of toothpaste she’d found in the drawer onto her finger. Damn near gouged her gums to pieces with her nail as she furiously scrubbed at her teeth.
Destiny's Knight: A Fallen Angel Protector Paranormal Romantic Suspense Book (Guarded Souls 1) Page 9
