by ML Guida
“That’s what Xanadu does,” Scythe said. “But each time you take it, you lose a bit of your soul until it consumes you.”
Heather raised her eyebrow. “Xanadu? You mean the legendary palace in Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s poem Kubla Khan?”
“Except this isn’t a beautiful palace. It’s a drug, an illusion, created by pure evil.”
Stan sat straighter. “You mean its eating my soul?”
“It’s not of this world.”
Stan shook his head. “Wow, are you tripping?” He licked his lips. “I don’t want to use again, but he keeps calling me to come, reminding me of how great it was.” Tears fell down his face. “But I don’t want to hear my mother sob like that. I broke her heart.”
“Yes, you will.”
Heather kicked him.
“Ow.”
“Will you stop torturing him?”
He rubbed his ankle. “You’d rather him end up like your sister?”
The minute he said it, Scythe regretted it. She narrowed her eyes, loathing reflected in their depths. Not exactly what he wanted from his angel-mate. He stiffened. Zeus, how had he become hitched to this woman?
“Stan, you’re safe,” Heather said.
“No, I’m not. I need to be locked up so I don’t give into temptation.” He grabbed her wrist. “You’ve got to hospitalize me so I can’t get out. Please.”
She sighed. “I can’t do that.”
“Fuck you,” Stan snarled.
Heather winced.
With one long stride, Scythe reached Stan and snatched him by his shirt and lifted him in the air. Stan released Heather’s wrist and his skinny fingers grabbed Scythe’s wrist. “No, no, put me down. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have hurt her.”
“Scythe.” Heather punched him in the arm. “Put him down. Now.”
Glancing at Heather, he lowered the kid. Stan’s lower lip quivered and his teeth chattered.
“How does he contact you?” Scythe asked.
She punched him in the chest. “Scythe, don’t ignore me.”
He kept his features rigid and his body stiff. Ignore her? Was she out of her mind? The slightest touch stirred every impulse inside him, even her punch. His chest tingled where she touched him. This woman was going to be the death of him. It took every inch of control he had not to sweep her into his arms and make love to her, claiming her. Couldn’t she feel the tension building between them?
“I don’t know exactly how,” Stan said. “But I hear his voice in my head. Telling me what to do.”
Scythe rubbed his chin. “But you don’t see him?”
“Um, no. Only in my dreams.” Stan took a step backward. Scythe had seen that look, the look of panic before people stampeded out of a theater at the smell of smoke. Angels never stampeded over each other, not even when God entered the room.
Stan shook his finger. “Except for that one time—at the 7-Eleven two blocks up.” He fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Behind the building. What am I going to do?”
“Pray,” Scythe said.
Stan raised his head. “What?”
“You heard me. When are you supposed to meet him, again?”
“Tonight at eight o’clock.”
“Stan, I’m ordering the staff to keep you within arm’s length tonight,” Heather said. “I’ll instruct them to restrain you if you try to leave.”
“I tried telling them not to leave me alone, but they didn’t believe me and acted as if I was tripping.”
Heather smiled. “I know. Believe me, I know. They won’t have a choice. I’m the boss, remember?”
For the first time, Stan relaxed and took a deep breath.
“Scythe and I will check it out tonight.”
“No, you can’t.” Stan stared at Heather. “The man said if you showed up, he’d kill you.”
Scythe gritted his teeth. Bless it, Blade! “She’s not going.”
Heather stood and put her hands on her hips. “Yes, I am. You can’t tell me what to do.” Her voice stern, she was a school principal scolding a naughty boy.
Stan jumped to his feet and grabbed Heather’s arms. “You can’t go. He said he’ll kill you since you’re his angel-mate.” He hitched his thumb toward Scythe. “You’re bound to him for eternity, his mortal enemy.”
Scythe groaned. Now, he was in deep shit.
“His what?”
“Angel-mate.” Stan nodded. “Didn’t he tell you?”
She broke free of Stan and faced Scythe. “No. Guess it slipped his mind.” She pinched his arm hard. “Exactly when were you going to tell me?”
He wanted to kiss away her scowling face and plant kisses down her stiff neck, tasting her, listening to her moan as his kisses reached deeper into her soul. He ached to run his fingers through her silky hair and run his hand over her hot skin. She was his, his angel-mate. The words had been spoken, but for them to truly be bound, they needed to mate.
Scythe closed his eyes. He opened them and stared at Stan, seeing into his soul. Already the Xanadu had been corrupting it, chipping away at its purity. “If you meet him one more time, Stan, you’ll waste someone and then kill yourself. The choice is yours. I can’t interfere.”
Heather grabbed his arm and dug her fingers into his flesh, driving him crazy with her touch. “What does that mean?”
“Free will. I can’t interfere.”
“You mean if Stan meets with your brother—”
“I can’t stop him from taking the drug. It’s against the rules.”
She dug her fingers into his thick arm. “Whose rules?”
He sighed. “God’s.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Excuse me?”
He gave her a cold stare.
“You’re not kidding are you?”
Scythe bit his cheek as Heather’s forehead crinkled. Her eyes widened. She put her hand on her mouth and tears trickled down her cheeks. “So…” she swallowed. “With my sister…”
“I couldn’t interfere.”
She dug her fingers deeper. “Blade said you were there with my sister.”
The moment he’d been dreading arrived. He wanted to erase her anguish, make her forget Blade’s taunting words, but she was his angel-mate. And she deserved the truth, no matter how painful. He glanced at Stan and waved his hand. “Leave us.”
Stan bolted out of the room like Daniel did from the lion’s den.
Heather’s hand shook. He placed his hand over hers.
Tears streaked down her face but she met his gaze. “Tell me.”
“I was there,” he said.
“You watched her step in front of that bus and did nothing.”
Her accusatory words tore through him. When she uttered them, it made him sound like such an asshole. He never looked at what he did the way a human would, but an angel of death didn’t have many choices. Disobedience ended with banishment.
He squared his shoulders. “Yes.”
Her lower lip trembled. Without warning, she belted him square in the mouth. Pain hit him. He spat blood onto the floor. “I deserved that. For such a tiny woman, you can throw a punch.”
She turned her back. “Get out. I can’t talk to you right now.”
Her shoulders shook and she hugged herself. Guilt squeezed him. Her angry sobs tore down his facade. He hesitated. Now, he understood why human males looked stupid when their women cried. He didn’t know what to do. Human tears had never touched him before, never made him balk, but now, he was as helpless as a newborn human babe.
What he would give for a human rule book on how to deal with female emotions, but so far there wasn’t one. Men had been searching for the how-to-deal-with-a-crying-angry-woman for centuries. You’d think God would have at least imparted the secret to his angels, but sometimes, he wondered if even He knew all the answers about women. “I can’t leave you.”
“Why? Are you waiting for me to die too? Waiting for your brother to blow me away or whatever the bastard has pla
nned for me?”
Scythe clenched at her words. If Blade tried to hurt one hair on her head, he’d kill him. What was he thinking? He came to save his brother, not kill him. “No, you’re my angel-mate.”
She whipped around. “What the hell does that mean? It sounds like I’m a Playboy bunny for some stupid porno male angel magazine.”
The image of Heather naked in some scanty clothes and in some seductive poses sent his blood and his cock rising. “I’ve claimed you. You’re…”
“What? I don’t have any choice in the matter?”
He waited for the storm. “No, you don’t.”
“So, I’m your slave now.”
He shook his head. “No, as my angel-mate you’re part of me. All that’s left is the binding ritual.”
“Oh and what is that? You brand me with an iron like a cow with your initials on it? AH.”
He frowned. “AH?”
“Asshole.” She pointed at the door. “I’m not your angel-mate. Now get out, you Neanderthal.”
“No.”
“No?”
“You heard me.” He stood still. “You’re in danger. My brother won’t stop until you are dead. I won’t leave you until I know you’re safe.”
She tilted her chin. “I can protect myself.”
“Against an angry fallen angel?”
Hesitation swam in her eyes, but then fierce determination filled them. “Yes.”
He lifted her soft chin, his hand trembling. He didn’t want to lose her. She didn’t break away, but he could sense her heart beating over time. “I can smell your fear.”
“How do I kill him?”
“Simple. You can’t.”
“Why?” She gritted her teeth. “Are you going to stop me?”
He brushed his finger across her wet cheek. “No, no human can kill a demon.”
“Do you know how to stop him?”
Her sweet breath enticed him, beckoned him. He leaned closer. Her lips softly parted, and he kissed her. She didn’t flinch. He slipped his arms around her and molded her pliable body to his. When she responded to his kiss, he gripped her shirt. He wanted more of her and cupped her ass. She moaned—music to his ears.
He deepened his kiss, tasting the feminine recesses of her mouth. He touched her flat stomach, and she gasped. He inched his hand up to cup her breast. He kissed her and nipped her neck.
She squirmed in his arms and broke away from him. “Stop.”
He looked down at her flushed face. “You want this as much as I do.”
“No.” She pushed on his chest. “Release me.”
He wanted to silence her protests, but relented. She ran her hand through her hair. “I can’t do this. Not knowing if you stood and watched Rosemary die and did nothing.”
He ran his hands down her arm, and he smiled. She stood still. At least, one good sign. “Heather, what do you think Angels of Death do?”
She jerked away. “Gee, let me think? Oh, I don’t know. You kill people. You murder people.”
Her cool look dashed his hope. He slumped and tried to gain control of the pain growing in his heart.
“Actually, we are only there to escort people to the other side. We don’t kill people.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “That’s not what happened in the Ten Commandments. The Angel of Death killed all the Egyptians’ first born children.”
Humans. He half grinned. “Ah, that was a movie.”
“So, you don’t kill people.”
“The only time that happens is if Michael orders it.”
“Michael?” Her eyes widened. “You mean Michael the Archangel?”
“Yeah, he’s my boss.”
“Oh, my God.” Her face pale, she walked over to her chair and sat. “I never thought of that.”
He shook his head. “There you go again saying His name in vain. Michael especially hates it when people say that.”
She put her hand to her mouth. “Really?”
He stepped behind her. He inhaled her fragrant womanly scent. She sat straight as an arrow. He pulled her thick hair off her shoulders and ran his fingers through the silky strands. A sense of calmness rushed over him. He rested his hands on her shoulders. Her skin was hot. She tensed but remained seated. He gently squeezed and massaged her knotted muscle, pushing harder to smooth out the wound, tight kinks.
She tilted her back. “That feels good, but I need you to stop. I need to think. I can’t think with you caressing me.”
“As you wish,” he muttered and dropped his hands. After touching her hot skin, coldness gripped his hands. “An angel of death escorts the human soul to their destination. We are their guide.”
“So, you know when people will die?”
“At their appointed time. Michael sends us St. Peter’s orders. He has the Book that tells when every human will be born and when every human will die. He alone has access.”
She looked toward the window. “I see.” She licked her lips. “So, you escort them to Heaven or Hell?”
“Yes,” he said. “The Book reveals whether the soul is to go to Heaven, Hell or Purgatory. Once a decision is made, there is no turning back.”
“Oh.” She leaned her forehead against the window. “Purgatory?”
“Purgatory is for souls who are not ready to enter heaven.”
She braced her shoulders. “What does that mean?”
“Heaven is beautiful and only pure souls can enter. Since Heaven is all about forgiveness, humans must work out their transgressions to enter. When souls hang onto their anger, their own resentment keeps them locked in Purgatory.”
Heather tensed. “Is Rosemary…is she…”
“She must learn forgiveness to move on.”
“I see,” she murmured.
Scythe couldn’t see her face. He wanted to caress her arms and hold her against him, but he gave her the time he knew she needed.
She slowly turned around. “I need to know who you are.”
He frowned. “I told you everything.”
“No, you haven’t. The only way I can know whether I can trust you or even forgive you is if I paint you.”
“Paint me?”
“Yes, I need to do your portrait. I capture people’s true essence when I paint them. My painting will reveal their future. I paint what they will be like if they change. Auras don’t lie. I know I can do it with you.”
“So, if you paint me, you’ll see my true colors so to speak?” He thought of his past deeds. Would those come out? It’s not like Egypt was the only time orders came down to kill. He’d been ordered to kill Pharaoh’s army when they attempted to cross the Red Sea, but Blade had been ordered to kill every Egyptian first born child. Not an easy task. There were other times, times when he killed or when Blade had. “What if you don’t like what you see?”
“Then I’ll refuse to be your angel-mate.”
He glanced at his watch. “It’s eight o’clock. That’s when Blade is supposed to meet Stan. You can paint me in less than an hour?”
“I can start…”
“We need a plan, madam. You can’t waltz in and confront my brother without a plan.”
“Obviously. By the way, I do have an idea.”
“Which is?”
“We have Hewitt and Mason stake out the alley and when Blade sells Stan the drug, they can arrest him.”
He snorted. “You actually think the police can stop a demon?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “No, but it might save Stan.” Her quiet voice plucked a nerve with him. The woman would do anything to save a patient. He hoped it didn’t lead her to do something stupid.
“Even if Stan doesn’t get the drug tonight, he will crave another hit and Blade will find him. The only way to save Stan is for me to face Blade—alone. I need to convince him to repent.”
“And if he doesn’t, more of my patients will die. I’m not going to let him murder them because of me.”
“Aren’t you the littlest bit af
raid he’ll kill you?”
She sighed and played with a loose string on her shirt. She looked up; determination glinted in her eyes. “Yes, I’m frightened. He terrifies me, but I’m not going to hide while he kills the people I care about.”
He ran the back of his knuckles down her soft cheek. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“As long as you’re with me, nothing will happen to me.”
She warmed his heart. He slipped his hand around her neck and pulled her to him, then leaned down to kiss her. “You trust me?”
She didn’t fight him. He could feel her heart pounding against his. She parted her tempting lips, and he indulged in her sweetness. She wrapped her arms around him and hung on tight. He was desperate to keep to her safe, to make her his forever.
But she broke away and stared up at him. “I trust you to keep me safe from Blade, but this doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to be your angel-mate.”
“You’re a stubborn wench”
“True. But afterward, you’ll let me paint you.” Her matter-of-fact-voice left him little choice. She tilted her head like Michael did when he expected orders followed without question.
He wanted her to hunger to be his angel-mate, not be forced. Other Angels had mates, and they never gave them as much as trouble as this woman. But he didn’t want those pliant women, he wanted his fiery tigress.
“Fine. Paint me.”
10
Scythe gunned his motorcycle, then pulled out of Serenity House’s parking lot. Heather wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled close. He definitely could get used to this.
The summer sun set, and purple, pink and peach clouds hovered around the Rocky Mountains. God had created such a beautiful sight and he loved to watch the sunset, but now, he had a date to face his traitorous brother. He should have a found a way to get Heather to stay with Stan—tie her to a chair. Why had he let her talk him into this? Blade promised to kill her, but she refused to be left behind.
Heather shifted on his bike and her breasts brushed his back. He grew hard. Bless it, this sucked. Get your head in the game. She released her hands and coldness washed over him where she was touching him.
