Tory made a face as the door slammed behind him. Arrogant prick. But she couldn’t help noticing the bulge that had clearly been outlined in his dark jeans. It kind of surprised her. She hadn’t expected angels to be susceptible to desire.
With the towel still clutched tightly between her breasts, she had no choice but to follow him from the bathroom. She hadn’t brought any clothing into the bathroom when she’d decided to shower. She hadn’t known she’d need to.
“Love, you are playing with fire. Quit tempting me and cover your delectable ass or you will find yourself flat on your back.”
Tory knew her mouth was hanging open and she lashed out to cover her unease. “Tempt you? I’d sooner rut with a donkey.”
She watched with a weird sense of fascination as Michael arched a mocking brow before slowly stalking her across the room. Tory hadn’t even realized she’d been retreating with each step he took until her back hit the wall behind her. She was totally at his mercy now, trapped by his body. His chest pressed against hers, drawing a soft gasp from her lips.
“Would you care for me to disprove your statement? Because I would be more than happy to, love,” he whispered, his lips inches from her own and there was something wholly dangerous about his tone. Excitement skittered across her skin.
“I didn’t think angels were interested in sex,” Tory breathlessly said, arching her neck to avoid contact with his lips, knowing if he kissed her again, she would beg to make his promise reality. And Tory didn’t need any more complications. Her life was disastrous enough without falling in love with an angel. Deep down she sensed there would be ramifications for such an act. She was human after all, and Michael wasn’t.
“We aren’t. Not unless it’s with our mate.” Michael stiffened for a second, frowning down at her, and Tory got the distinct impression he hadn’t meant to voice that out loud. He lowered his arms, moving back enough for her to gain release, but still she stared at him wide-eyed. Rubbing the back of his neck, he turned from her and moved toward the window. “Get dressed, Victoria.”
He sounded in pain and Tory took a step toward him before she even realized she had done so. She halted, sighing softly. A strong impulse tugged at her, the need to give Michael comfort, but she didn’t understand it and suspected he wouldn’t accept it. She needed him to kill a demon. She shouldn’t expect anything else because she would only end up getting hurt.
After escaping into the closet, Tory quickly dressed, hardly giving any consideration to what clothing she slipped over her body. Her comfy jeans and an old BU sweatshirt. She recognized her need for the familiar as a form of protection. But against Michael or her own fanciful inclinations? A psychologist would have a field day with her issues.
Michael was exactly were she had left him when she exited the closet, staring intently out the bedroom window. She waited for him to say something, turn toward her, acknowledge her presence—anything, and when he didn’t, she snapped.
“You wanted to talk, so talk.”
Michael glanced over his shoulder, a slight smile on his lips. “Where are your spirits?”
Tory shrugged, surprised not only by his question but by the fact she hadn’t heard a peep from either Sam or Thomas since her spell bringing Michael to her had gone haywire. “They’re around here somewhere.”
Michael nodded, glancing back out the window a moment before finally turning to face her. “And how long have you been able to see the dead?”
Tory lifted her shoulders again carelessly. “I hear them more than I actually see them. And they have been around for as long as I can remember. Since I was a child.”
“Who was the witch, your mother or your father?”
His question raised memories Tory would just as soon forget. The truth of who and where she came from was something she had spent years wishing she could change. It was knowledge she still had not come to terms with, but unfortunately she knew she had to reveal because she suspected it had everything to do with why she was now being hunted.
“I don’t remember much about my parents. I think they both died when I was five. My mother was a drunk but totally human. My father, or at least the man my mother had claimed was my father, was…” Her voice faltered, too embarrassed to ever give voice to the disgusting truth. Wrapping her arms around her torso, she sank onto the edge of the bed.
“Was what?” Michael asked quietly.
“Ari said he was a warlock,” Tory confided and flinched, waiting for his reaction. She knew as an angel Michael couldn’t help but be disgusted. Witches were white spell casters, men and women who devoted their lives to doing good. Warlocks were the complete opposite. Filled with greed, they aided demons in their evil work for profit and gain, intentionally giving up their souls in the process. They were everything angels despised.
“Was he under the command of Asmodeus?”
Surprised by the lack of revulsion in Michael’s voice, Tory jerked her gaze up, shocked to find him kneeling at her feet. He lifted a hand, his fingers reaching out to gently stroke her jaw before cupping the back of her neck.
“I truly do not know. My father had little use for me or my mom, only coming around when he needed something, probably sex, I really do not remember. But even at four or five, I knew there was something wrong with him, so my guess would be yes, he was under Asmodeus’s command. He felt evil.”
“Can you still? Sense this evil in individuals, I mean?”
“And goodness,” she said with a nod. “It has gotten stronger in the last couple of months. It was why Ari insisted I call forth an angel. She believed this extrasensory perception will soon be mutual, and that this demon will finally be able to find me.”
Michael’s facial features seemed to freeze in place and he snarled, “How long has he been hunting you?”
Tory, surprised by the rage dancing in his eyes and the flexing muscle in his jaw, shrugged. “I never knew until recently he even existed. The three stooges managed to hide all knowledge of him from me as effectively as they had hid me from him.”
“What of spell casting? I can feel the power in you. Have you not thought to use a spell?”
Tory rolled her eyes. Did he think she was stupid? Then she recalled the times he had said as much.
Asshole
. “Yes, I’ve tried every spell I have been able to get my hands on. None of them have worked, but it’s not exactly like I’ve had anyone to teach me this shit. There’s only been Ari, Sam and Thomas.”
“Yes. A hunter, a theologian and a banker. I’m sure they were a hell of a lot of help,” Michael drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Well, it’s not like anyone else was going to step up to the plate,” she stated, annoyed by his arrogance. It was her family Michael was talking about. An odd family, she would give him that, but the only one she’d ever known. “I didn’t have a flock of angels at my disposal.”
Michael dragged her closer as he leaned in. “You should have. If I’d known…” Shaking his head, he let his hand fall away before rising to his feet and striding to the other side of the room.
Tory needed to change the subject. Feeling as if they were standing on the edge of a steep cliff with a painful fall imminent, she picked something she thought would be safe…at least safer than where they had been heading. While she didn’t know exactly where that might be, she feared it enough to want to avoid it. “Where is Ari? What did you do to her?”
Michael was silent a moment, disappointment etched across his face. With a sigh, he followed the direction she’d gently nudged the conversation. “I returned her to the Hall of Souls where she belongs.”
Biting her lip, Tory wondered if she would have the nerve to ask what she was really dying to know—how Ari was connected to Michael. It wasn’t really any of her business, and maybe if she kept telling herself that it would eventually sink in.
Or not.
“Whatever it is, ask it of me.”
Michael sounded eager, too eager for the jealous rampage she wanted to embark upon. Who’d have thought she’d be envious of a dead woman, but apparently she was. And feeling very territorial over an angel she had absolutely no business even considering.
“How did you become acquainted with Ari?”
Okay, so I’m a fool
, Tory freely admitted to herself.
Michael’s eyes grew vacant, as if he were immersed in a past memory. It took everything in her not to jump up and stomp from the room in an ill-tempered fit. Lord, she could just imagine his shock at that.
Appearing to be waking from a stupor, Michael blinked, his vision clearing. “She had been no more than a child, only nineteen when Gabriel introduced us,” he said with a tinge of sadness.
Nausea settled in the pit of her stomach, but instead of demanding what the hell Ari had meant to him, she asked, “Who is Gabriel?” Because truthfully she was too big a wimp to find out.
Michael’s eyes narrowed. “You know who he his, but are you sure you really want to discuss this? You might not like where it leads.”
Tory didn’t reply right away. Instead she recognized the challenge in his eyes and his words and tried to determine the meaning behind them. Did Michael already know the feelings he seemed to raise in her? Was he warning her from the truth, knowing how badly it would hurt her? Or was it something else entirely?
She was about to demand an answer from him but Michael beat her to the punch.
“
The
Archangel Gabriel. Ariadne was his mate.”
Mate? Michael had mentioned it before but what did he mean?
Tory would have verbalized the thought if not for Michael’s sudden movement. He grabbed her arm, yanking her from the bed and shoving her behind him as a bright flash of light engulfed the room. Glad for his back shielding her, she buried her face in his shirt, hiding from what that light might entail. She wasn’t worried it might be a demonic presence. It was still daylight out, and for some reason she figured demons would not cast such a pure white glow when they entered a room.
“What the hell are you doing here, Zadkiel?” Michael demanded, causing her curiosity to get the better of her. Tory peeked over his shoulder and shuddered.
Michael had brandished that beast of a sword again, but it wasn’t the weird blade of flame that had caught her attention. It was Zadkiel. Tall, though not as tall as Michael, he stood before them, light brown hair brushing against broad shoulders and framing a face most women would have swooned over. But not Tory. Maybe if she hadn’t seen Michael first… No, this angel didn’t have her heart hammering and her mouth watering.
Her obvious preference for Michael couldn’t be good.
A few mumbled words from Michael in what Tory thought might have been Latin and the sword disappeared, but he didn’t relax his stance. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he was not happy about the other angel’s presence. Was it because of her? Or for some other reason?
“You wanted to be kept aware of Asmodeus’s movements. I’m here to comply.”
Chapter Four
Michael rolled his eyes. Sure he was. Zadkiel could have found another way to deliver a message of this importance, but it was Michael’s own fault for mentioning Tory. He should have known Zadkiel would never be able to overcome his curiosity, and the way she clung to him would only further fuel Zadkiel’s interest. Completely aware of every inch of Tory plastered against his back, Michael knew the wise thing would have been to push her away, but he couldn’t do it. The way Zadkiel was eyeing her inflamed the need to draw her even closer, directly into the protection of his arms. Wouldn’t that intrigue his second-in-command beyond imagination?
“So make me aware,” Michael snapped, watching Zadkiel flicker a glance over his right shoulder, landing without a doubt on Tory. He could almost see the wheels turning behind his second’s brown orbs. Zadkiel wanted to ask about Tory but thought better of it.
Michael hadn’t made Zadkiel his second because he was stupid.
Zadkiel cleared his throat. “Asmodeus is on the move, leaving a trail of dead bodies in his wake. Powerful witches, every single one of them, and interestingly enough, all bear a striking resemblance to your…companion.”
Tory’s quiet gasp filled Michael’s ears though it was the gentle trembling running along his spine that fully caught his attention. He hadn’t wanted Zadkiel’s notice directed at Tory any more than necessary, but the shudders racking her slight frame drew him and Michael turned, gathering her into his arms, completely aware of Zadkiel’s probing gaze.
“It’s my fault,” she whispered, burying her face in his chest.
“Nonsense. You do not control Asmodeus’s actions anymore than I.” Michael cupped the back of her head to hold her close, his fingers sinking into wet hair. Lifting her face, he rested his forehead against hers. “Go dry you hair, love, before you get sick.”
Tory hesitated only a moment before whispering, “Okay.”
Michael knew her acquiescence was due to the fact she was upset. By the time she finished doing as he’d commanded she’d have her emotions under control and would no doubt come out claws drawn.
Watching her disappear into the bathroom—hell, he couldn’t tear his eyes from Tory’s retreating figure. It was only Michael’s iron-willed control preventing him from dragging her back into his arms. It amazed him how quickly she’d become embedded in the very fiber of his being.