The Fallen 03 - Warrior (12 page)

Where the hell had that come from? He wasn’t going to have sex with her—why was he even discussing it?

Her eyes widened, but for a moment she said nothing. Finally she said, “Your job is to inflict pain. You’re a killer.”

“I’m a warrior,” he said. “As are you.”

“I’ve never killed . . .” The words trailed off as she remembered.

He watched her carefully, curious. She would have to kill again, without hesitation, if she was to be of any help to them. “It was a necessary death,” he said finally.

“Is any death necessary?”

“You don’t need my answer to such an elemental question. Only your own.”

She was still considering. And then, like the click of a switch, she nodded. Accepted. She pushed her rich, dark hair away from her pale face, and once again he acknowledged how beautiful she was. Not the perfect beauty of the Fallen, but the attraction of
something else, something more complex and troublesome. “Rachel wanted me to seduce you.”

“I’m not surprised.” He kept his voice, his expression, neutral.

“I told her no.”

“Of course you did,” he said softly. “Sex is the last thing on your mind.” He shouldn’t have said it when he knew it was patently untrue, but he wanted to see if he could get to her.

Once more she surprised him. Her smile was slow, sensual, and he wanted to curse as his body leapt in response. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” she said. “I imagine I think about sex just as often as you do.”

He kept his face expressionless, even as he felt his skin grow hot. She would probably die anyway. Why not? “You’re playing with fire, little girl,” he said in a steady voice.

“Am I?” She shrugged, and even that mundane gesture held a wealth of sensual grace. “Apparently you’re immune to my dubious charms.”

A smile came before he could stop it, and she blinked, momentarily nonplussed, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her startled eyes met his, and he let his omnipresent guard drop, just for a moment. It was like an electric shock jolting his body, the sudden knowledge that all of them were right, she was his. And he couldn’t, wouldn’t, have her.

He moved closer, without realizing how it
happened—so close, all he had to do was reach out and she would be in his arms, wrapped against his hungry body. He lifted his hand, surprised to see it didn’t shake, and cupped her face, his thumb gently brushing her soft lips.

He almost told her. Told her that his kiss would lead to her death. That even if he felt his centuries of determination crumble in the face of his need, he wouldn’t give in.

“We’re not doing this,” she whispered.

“Of course not.” He could stop. His self-control was legendary. It was a small enough test, simply to prove it to himself, to lean forward and replace his thumb with his lips, brushing her mouth softly. He pulled away, almost too quickly, as desire rushed over him.

She looked at him, her green eyes startled but uncomfortably knowing. “Of course not.”

I
STOOD ALONE IN THE MIDDLE OF MY
room after he left. What were the lines I’d heard so often in the movies?
Time to get the hell out of Dodge. Let’s blow this Popsicle stand.
I had no idea why people seemed to hate Dodge so much, and in all the movies I’d watched I’d never seen a Popsicle stand, but I understood the concept. I needed to get the hell out of there, and I’d waited too long, seduced by the ocean and the friendship. Seduced by my husband’s beautiful face and body, I was caving. Charmed by him despite myself, despite his best efforts. Charmed by that sudden, unbidden smile.

What would it be like to see that smile without all the baggage? To see him really smile at me?

Why not do what Rachel asked?
I fought to ignore the little voice that niggled in my head. He was deliciously gorgeous, but it wasn’t merely his physical
beauty that had such an odd effect on me. All the men here were beautiful, angelically so. And none of the others caused me even the slightest twinge.

There was something about the Archangel Michael that pulled me on a deep, irrational level. His slow, sexy smile had almost brought me to my knees. And if I gave in, I’d never leave. Never taste the richness of life that had always been out of reach. I wanted to be loved, I wanted children, I wanted to see and experience everything. If I stayed here, Michael would be my world, that rare, devastating smile would be my reward, and I wasn’t going to let that happen.

I looked out the french doors to the sea shimmering in the misty sunlight. There were people on the beach, some running, some going through martial arts exercises with impressively good form.
I wouldn’t mind sparring with some of them
, I thought.
If I were going to stay
. No escape that way. The house backed up against a steep cliff, and while I could attempt the climb, I could hardly do so in broad daylight. I had to stay put, at least for the moment.

Rachel wanted me to sleep with him. They all wanted me to sleep with him, everyone except Michael himself, which, if you thought about it, was insulting. There was nothing wrong with me. My body was lithe and strong, my face pretty enough even though it fell far short of movie-star perfection. Why didn’t he want me?

But he does
, the little voice whispered in my head.
He did, and I knew it, in the unconscious, elemental female way that had existed throughout history, all the way back to the first man and first woman. Beneath the cool gaze he used to try to intimidate me there lurked a blaze, so strong it made me uneasy. I refused to let anything frighten me. But if anything did, it would be the heat in the icy fallen archangel.

I pushed open the doors, letting the soft sea air into my room, and went out to join the army on the beach.

I
N THE END
, slipping away was easier than I had expected. In the workout room I sparred a bit with a couple of the men—the angels—including a particularly kind one named Asbel. He had the same perfect beauty, but on him it somehow looked more human, more approachable. By the time we finished, we were both exhausted and laughing.

“We’re glad you’re here, Victoria Bellona,” he said as we were catching our breath.

I’d grown tired of telling people to call me Tory. I glanced around. Michael was across the huge room, ignoring me, and I wished I were as good at dismissing him from my mind as he appeared to be at disregarding me. I pulled my attention back to Asbel. “It’s certainly better than the last place I lived,” I said. “Though not where I was expecting to go.” I let my eyes go back to Michael. “And not what I expected to marry.”

Asbel touched my arm with surprising sympathy. He smelled like cinnamon, always a comforting scent. Michael smelled of the night sky.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Asbel said quietly. “If there’s any way I can help, all you have to do is ask.”

“Can you help me get away from here?” I said flippantly, then turned, distracted, as Martha approached. If I had a bone to pick with anyone in this place, it was with Martha.

“Michael suggested we might spar,” she said in her soft voice.

“Really?” I glanced over at him. I seemed to be spending all my spare time looking at him, which was really pathetic. “Why?”

“He said you’d relish a chance to kick my ass, considering I was the reason they brought you here.”

That managed to get my attention. I grinned reluctantly. “It’s tempting. I don’t suppose your visions are your fault. It was the Greeks who killed the messenger who arrived with bad news, and I’m Roman, apparently. I’m sure you didn’t mean me any harm.”

Martha smiled back at me. She was a few years older than I was, but one look in her calm gray eyes told me she’d lived through more than I ever had—survived more—and the last of my resentment vanished. “I have a better idea,” I said. “Why don’t the two of us beat up on Michael?”

That coaxed a smile from her. “Now, that’s tempting, but I think he could manage both of us with
one hand tied behind his back. I could use a little help with my kicks. I have a tendency to telegraph what I’m going to do next, at least when I spar here. Maybe in the heat of battle the enemy will be too wound up to notice.”

“You can’t count on anything. Let’s get away from here and I’ll show you some moves.”

We joined the others on the beach, away from Michael’s distracting presence. Martha surprised me. She was strong, resilient, and smart, and if she could just get past her habit of looking exactly where she was going to attack next, she’d be in good shape for the coming battle everyone kept talking about. I resisted every temptation to floor her until the very last, and when I had her on her back I laughed. “Sorry, I just couldn’t help it.” I released her and held out a hand, pulling her to her feet again. “Do me a favor, Martha. If you ever have another premonition concerning me, please,
please
, do not tell anyone. Particularly not me.”

Something flickered in her eyes. “I promise,” she said, her voice slightly hollow.

Everyone was out during the day at regular intervals, everyone except the first woman I’d met, Allie. The one Michael had fed from. Odd, how easily I could think of that without being shocked.
Fed
from her. I’d accepted it, for some reason.

The women were strong, and what they lacked in power they made up for in speed and inventiveness. They had been well schooled, and they knew they
would be fighting for their lives and the lives of their husbands. I had no idea how many might survive if such a battle ever came to pass, but I knew their enemy would be wise not to underestimate them.

The Armies of Heaven were the enemy, Rachel had said. Surely that was wrong. Heaven was where good people went when they died, a happy place full of old friends and smiling faces. How could heaven have an army?

I showed more of my power with the women than with the stronger men. I had every intention of fooling the fallen angels into believing I was essentially worthless as a fellow warrior, a woman with a few clever moves but not much else. With the women I pushed harder, driving them, forcing them to use their wits and every last bit of their skill, just as a good teacher would do. I didn’t want these women to die, and I wanted to do what little I could to expand their abilities. The angels could fend for themselves.

At one point I felt Michael’s eyes on me, and I knew he stood just inside the open doors to the workout room, in the shadows, so he couldn’t be seen. I didn’t need to look. I already knew what his gaze felt like, a cool wash over my heated skin as I remembered the feel of his mouth against mine. I licked my lips, searching for his taste, but the salt of the ocean superseded it. I’d missed my chance—he was never going to kiss me again.

I immediately stumbled, deliberately, and went
down in the sand beneath Martha’s triumphant cry. By the time I bounded back to my feet, he was gone.

It was simple enough to move farther and farther away from them as I went through my own moves. I had a well-worn series of exercises I went through, and though I toned them down for anyone who seemed to be watching, I was able to move down the beach, away from the others.

I warmed up, stretched, and ran in place for a little to get my muscles ready for the change. And then I took off in a casual sprint, just another runner working on endurance.

By the time I had gone about two miles up the beach, I was feeling less optimistic. There was no sign of civilization, no houses, no border separating Sheol from the rest of the world. I wondered whether we were on an island.

The coastline stayed the same, a mix of grass and stone, the high cliffs to my right, the ocean to my left; otherwise I might have thought I was running in circles. I was beginning to tire a bit, and I fell back into a walk. I was far enough away by now, at least ten miles by my estimation. It would take them too long to catch up with me.

I was hungry. I hadn’t had the sense to grab something to eat from the eternally stocked kitchen, but then, I’d taken off without a firm plan. Not the wisest idea, but I was so desperate to leave I’d taken the first chance I got.

It was getting late now, the shadows growing long as I continued along the beach. At this time of year, in late March, the sun here seemed to set early, around six o’clock. I would have hours to keep moving, to ensure my safety. I couldn’t afford to let them find me.

The shadow brushed by my consciousness, and I looked up, squinting against the sunlight, as the outline of a huge bird soared by. But it wasn’t a bird, and I was an idiot. Because there was no sign beneath their clothes, I had forgotten that the angels were still equipped with one more weapon.

Their wings.

I began to run.

H
E SWOOPED DOWN
like a bird of prey and caught her midstride, yanking her flailing body against his before he took off, soaring upward, high, higher, until the air grew thin and cold and her struggles slowed, until frost sparkled on the nose he wanted to kiss, the skin he wanted to lick and suck and bite. He shifted her in his arms, cradling her, staring at her pale, soft mouth, and he had the sudden overwhelming urge to breathe warmth into her. His head moved closer, and her eyes opened, looking up at him, as if she knew what he wanted. He jerked back, keeping his gaze focused on the sky rather than her face, until he descended toward Sheol with his annoying, errant wife cradled in his arms.