In every way an angel could.
“So what happens now? How long will it take this Error of yours—”
“Erah.” He chuckled at her mispronunciation.
“How long will it take—Wait.” Her frowned returned. “Why can’t you find Gilbert?”
Tapping into Gilbert’s thread ignites my own desire for you.
He opened his mouth—and closed it. He couldn’t lie to her. It was impossible. An angel could not lie to a human.
“Does this have something to do with your scream last night? Did you try to find him then?” Her spine stiffened and her jaw clenched. “Did he hurt you somehow?”
The anger in her voice sent a wave of warmth through him. And a cold finger of acceptance. He was not recovering from this. Erah may believe Nathanial one day capable of returning to Heaven, but Erah was deluded.
He was not just drawn to her, attracted to her.
He loved her.
From that, there was no coming back. No reprieve.
No forgiveness.
Screwed. He was screwed.
“He didn’t hurt me.” It wasn’t a lie, but he was skirting a fine line of truth. “But I am…” He swiped at his mouth. “I am vulnerable to what feeds him.”
“What feeds… You mean his…” She licked her lips, her eyes dropping to his for a split second. “His obsession with me?”
“Yes.”
“So you can’t find him, because it makes you…what?”
He didn’t answer. Drew a slow breath.
She studied him. “I asked you a while ago if this whole…saving me thing was a standard angel procedure, offered to any human in this kind of trouble, and you didn’t really answer. I’m going to ask you again. What’s the deal with you—you, Knight—helping me, protecting me from Gilbert? Are you doing it because it’s your duty as an angel? Or…for other reasons?”
She had him. He could not lie. He could refuse to answer her question, but that in itself was an answer, one that would terrify her. She’d fill in the blanks herself. What would she fill those blanks with?
What kind of monster would he become?
He opened his mouth.
And closed it.
Shifting a little in the chair, she let out a choppy laugh. “Y’know what, let’s start with some other questions that might be easier for you to answer. Ready?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Ready.”
He wasn’t. Not at all.
Another shaky laugh. “Alright. Let’s start with the really easy ones. Are all angels like you? How many of you are down here on Earth? Is there really a God, and if so, which religion got it right?”
He blinked.
She grinned. Waited.
“Umm.” How the hell did he answer? “Those are the easy questions?”
Rolling her eyes, she wriggled deeper into the armchair. “Okay, try these ones on for size. I know you mentioned a djinn—James the genie, right?—but what other supernatural beings are moving around with us humans?” She frowned. “Just out of interest, did you know there’s a TV show called Supernatural? How accurate is it? And come to think of it, how accurate is my show?” Her frown turned playful. “Supernatural is on network, so we’re on the opposite ends of the viewership spectrum—no real sex or tits and arse on their show. Plus, the main protagonists are all male, whereas I’m clearly a female.” She stopped, an enigmatic glint in her eyes. “As you can see.”
Hell, he could see.
Throat tight, body growing tighter, he arched an eyebrow at her. “Which question do you want me to answer first?”
She grew still. Her heart beat faster, disrupting the air between them. Charging it with an energy he could feed off for a lifetime. “The first one.”
“Are all angels like me?”
“No. Are you doing all this, protecting me, saving me, because it’s your duty as an angel?” She held his gaze. Imprisoned him with hers. “Or for other reasons?”
“Both.”
She drew a swift breath at his answer.
“I’m not…” He swiped a hand over his mouth, scrunched up his face and uttered a short laugh.
Now or never. “I’m a fallen angel, Billie. I’ve lost my Creator’s favor. My fellow angels have shunned me—with the exception of Erah.”
Eyes wide, she stared at him. “Why?”
“Because of you. I fell because of you.”
“What?”
Her heart smashed faster in her chest. He wanted to press his palm to her breast and slow its rapid beat. He wanted to brush his thumb over her bottom lip and show her how he saw her.
He wanted to take the words back.
He wanted to tell her everything.
“Your existence, your life force, the spark that would one day become you…called to me an eternity ago. An eon before you were even born, I was aware of you. And that awareness shifted my existence. Altered my purpose. And as a consequence, I was given two options: expunge my awareness, or be banished from the only home I’d ever known.”
She stared at him.
Expunge my awareness. What a clinical, emotionless way to say forget you.
But when it came to Billie, his emotions ruled him. Emotions angels were never meant to have.
“You’re still aware of me,” she said, her voice low. “So I guess that means you…”
“I would rather be cut off from the only existence I know, the only one I knew for thousands of human years, than to deny your place in my heart.”
“You fell for me,” she whispered.
“I fell for you.”
A complicated internal conversation took place in her mind. He watched it unfold on her face, although he had no clue what her thoughts were.
She regarded him silently, eyebrows dipped in a frown, and then released a slow breath. “Well, fuck.”
He let his lips curl in a slow, wry smile. “As much as I would like to, we—”
She unfurled from her armchair, closed the small distance between them and—gaze once again holding his—slowly and purposefully straddled his hips. Her bent legs snugging close to his thighs, her sex aligning to his, her fingers combing through the hair at the back of his head.
“Billie,” he groaned, her name little more than a hoarse breath. “You—”
She kissed him.
Sex to his, hands holding his head exactly where she wanted it, she swiped her tongue against his lips, demanding he open his mouth to hers.
He did. There was no point in fighting. He wanted this, wanted her. Had for longer than he could remember.
Her tongue found his, mated with it. Her hands balled tighter in his hair. She rolled her hips, aligning her heat closer to his.
He growled, smoothing his hands up her back as he thrust his hips. Letting her know without words he was hers.
She deepened the kiss, matching his hunger.
His head swam. The blood in his veins—the blood of the human body he’d assumed when expelled from his place of creation—turned hotter. Surged through him, elevating his heart rate.
Her taste, her smell, her fire, her force… Everything he’d fallen in love with, being given to him by the woman he’d changed everything for…
Another giddy wave crashed over him. He drew her closer, reveling in the sensation of her back muscles beneath his palms. So warm and yielding, and at the same time so full strength. So human; fragile and yet formidable.
She shifted her mouth on his, nipping at his bottom lip, before demanding more of his mouth again.
He chuckled, a low, throaty response to her hunger, the same craving he felt for her, and moved his hands to her hips. Squeezing them, he pushed his groin up again, the heat at the junction of her thighs against his length—trapped by his jeans—an exquisite torment.
A carnal caress he never believed he’d ever experience.
Could this even be true? Had he been cast out so thoroughly he was really in Satan’s hands, being tortured with his truest desire?
Billie’s hands rake
d down the back of his neck, her nails scoring his flesh as she once again ground her sex to his engorged erection, detonating a raw urgency in him.
Soon. Soon…
With a groan, she tore her lips from his, her breath choppy and shallow as she stared down into his eyes. “Holy crap,” she whispered, fingers feathering over his jaw, his throat, his heaving chest. “What was that?”
A cold finger sank into his heart. “I did not make you do that, Billie. I assure you, I promise you, I did not exert my influence over—”
She silenced him with a fierce, quick kiss, before settling back on his lap again. A smile curled her lips. “I know.”
He swallowed. “You do?”
“I do.”
“Why did you…” He stopped. Swallowed again. “Why did you kiss me?”
She traced his bottom lip with her thumb, her smile dancing in her eyes. “Because a person who thinks for themselves is hot. An angel thinking for himself? Well, that’s just insane levels of hotness.”
He laughed, exploring her back with his hands. “I do fear that opinion would be frowned upon where I come from.”
Rolling her hips, she slipped her hands down over his chest. “I don’t give a flying fuck,” she said, and pulled her tank top over her head.
Nathanial froze.
Emotions rushed at him. Thoughts, fears. Surprise. Rapture.
Mouth dry, pulse pounding, he lowered his eyes, his throat growing thick at what she’d presented him. “You are beautiful. Truly beautiful.”
She was.
“Flawless,” he whispered, looking into her eyes again.
“I don’t know what you just said,” a smile played with her lips, “but it sounded pretty.”
He frown, replaying the moment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…” He let out a wry laugh. “I was speaking Enochian.”
“Angel language?”
“Angel language. Humans are not meant to be able to hear Enochian.”
“I did. Have done a few times. When you said something back at my place when Rhames arrived, and now. I don’t understand what you’re saying, but I can hear it.”
Another reason she was so special. She heard him speaking his natural language and survived.
“What did you say in Enochian?” she asked, studying him closely.
He smiled. “I said flawless. Because you are. Flawless.”
Rolling her eyes, she grinned. “Well, in that case, you totally know how to say the right things.”
He laughed.
“Now…” She reached behind her and circled his wrists with her hands. “Let’s see if you know how to do the right—”
“Ahem.” Someone cleared their throat in the living room.
Nathanial flattened Billie to his chest. His wings wrapped around her, protecting her with a shield no human—and few nonhuman—forces could penetrate. The full strength of his power charged through him as his stare locked on the man standing behind her.
“What the hell are you doing here, James?” he ground out. A million icy-cold pin-pricks of excruciating pain traversed his skin as he released his hold on his power and allowed it to dissipate back into his body. “I almost killed you.”
James cocked an eyebrow, his eyes roaming the ceiling as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Maybe I should have knocked first?”
“You think?” Billie shot back, twisting on Nathanial’s lap to glare over her shoulder at him.
James laughed, flicked her the quickest of grins, and then snapped his stare back to the ceiling at Nathanial’s growl. “Not looking, not looking.” He pointed his index finger upward. “You know your ceiling needs painting, right?”
“Why are you here?” Nathanial smoothed his palms up Billie’s back and let his wings relax again, even as he scowled at the djinn.
“I truly hate to ruin your fun.” James shuffled his feet, head tilted back farther as he continued to check out the ceiling. “But that situation I talked to you about earlier?”
A wave of cold swept through Nathanial, and he drew his arms closer around Billie. “What about it?”
James’s throat worked as he lowered his head and fixed his focus on Nathanial. “It’s happened again. Three times.”
* * * *
Stepping over the charred lump at his feet, Wraif sucked in a deep breath.
Agitation slithered through his veins, a hungry parasite demanding to be fed. Each life he burned away gave him a brief glimpse of where his Destiny was, like the blinding flash of a lightning bolt on a human retina. But each glimpse lasted fewer and fewer seconds, and the tug on his existence—the pull he knew was his Destiny calling out for him, begging him to find her, take her from the angel—lingered an even shorter time.
He was consuming life forces at a rapid rate, and yet he still starved for what he required.
Why?
What had been different about the cop?
He spoke Destiny’s other name, the soundless voice—absent for a long time—whispered in his head. He had a connection to her, no matter how tenuous, a link to her soul. It gave you more of what you needed…
More. To find her, he needed to gorge on a life force closely entwined with his Destiny’s.
Yes. And you know who that life belongs to. You know who will feed you until you’re replete with what you need.
He did.
Smiling, he turned to the blubbering human cowering against the back wheel of the car he’d flagged down earlier, when the tug had faded to nothing.
The man he’d smiled at through the driver’s window, made small talk with, chuckling about how silly he was to have run out of gas and asking if the guy could help him out, as he was on his way to see his girl and didn’t want to be late.
The man who said he’d love to help, sure, no problems at all. Was he okay with making a quick side trip so he could drop his “old man” off at the track?
Later, the man had begged Wraif not to hurt him, to take his father instead, oh God, please take “the old fuck,” not him, when Wraif had opened his door and pulled him from behind the wheel. Had gibbered and sobbed on the ground as Wraif had dragged the elderly man from the passenger seat and unleashed the burn, incinerating him, feeding off him…
Hurry, the invisible voice urged. The angel is going to have her soon.
Hate blasted through Wraif, and he smiled at the pathetic human male on the ground. “You can drive me to where I need to go,” he said. “Or you can die the same way your father did. You decide.”
Chapter 6
So this was a genie. Or rather, a djinn.
Billie tucked her knees closer to her chest, studying the tall, rangy man with the shaggy light brown hair, hawkish nose and Yoda for President T-shirt talking to Nathanial.
He didn’t look like one. His ear wasn’t even pierced.
She bit her bottom lip to stop herself from chuckling. Talk about being a victim of the Hollywood education program. Earring. Pft. More to the point, why wasn’t he blue? And bald?
She bit her lip again and hid her mouth behind her knees.
Whatever the reason for the djinn to miraculously appear in Nathanial’s living room, interrupting the best kiss she’d ever been a part of and preventing what would’ve been—no doubt at all—the best foreplay she’d ever experience, it probably was a dire one. Giggling was most likely highly inappropriate right now.
Would help if they told me what was going on, instead of standing over in the kitchen muttering to each other.
James had materialized a few minutes ago. In that time, she’d put her tank top back on—handed to her by the djinn as he kept his stare on the ceiling—climbed off Nathanial, and settled back into the armchair as he and James strode into the kitchen, voices low. They’d stayed that way, flicking her the occasional quick glance.
Screw this.
“Hey!”
Both Nathanial and James jumped at her shout. The air behind Nathanial shimmered as his stare locked on her.
She scow
led at them, butting her chin on her knees. “Any chance either of you are going to fill me in at some point soon on the reason for James the Genie’s appearance here?”
James chuckled and gave Nathanial a smirk. “Well, she’s not a wilting damsel in distress, that’s for certain.”
“See?” Billie waved her hand at James in a there-you-go gesture, as she fixed Nathanial with a pointed look. “See?”
He answered with a drawn-out sigh.
James chuckled again. “Dare I say you’re like an old married couple?”
“Watch it with the old comment, James.” Billie directed a mock glower his way. “I can’t speak for Knight, but twenty-six is far from old.”
James bowed with a flourish of his hand. “Apologies, fair maiden.”
“Oh no, don’t call me that, either. Billie will do.”
He smiled. “Billie it is.” He arched a look at Nathanial, standing beside him with his arms crossed and an unreadable expression on his face. “I like her.”
Again, the air behind Nathanial shimmered into the shape of large wings for a split second. Whatever he did to keep them concealed, it was clearly having a hard time today.
James laughed. “Reel in the jealousy there, Feathers—”
“Feathers?” Billie raised her eyebrows.
“I’d rather you not call me that,” Nathanial said, sliding a look her way.
“I’d rather not be kept in the dark about what’s going on,” she shot back, “but hey, I’m currently sitting alone in a chair that a few moments ago was the location for some pretty amazing making out, while you two mutter over there, so…” She shrugged, holding Nathanial’s gaze.
He let out a slow breath and clawed a hand through his hair. “You are going to be the end of me, Wilhelmina Sheridan.”
“I’d rather that not be the case,” she answered, heart thumping fast. “Feathers.”
He blurred into an indistinct fracture of iridescent light—and suddenly stood directly in front of her.
She gasped. And then moaned, happiness flooding her as he framed her face in his palms and brushed his lips over hers.
“Argh. Get a room, you two.”
“We did,” Nathanial threw over his shoulder. “And you materialized into it.”
Billie smiled.
Destiny's Knight: A Fallen Angel Protector Paranormal Romantic Suspense Book (Guarded Souls 1) Page 11
