Wounded Angel (The Earth Angels) (13 page)

“Damn it, let me—”

“According to my mother, I’m the least-talented person my
bloodline has ever produced,” he went on, ignoring her struggles. “Apportation,
treasure-finding...I’m nothing like that. In fact, I’m what you’d call a dud.
All I ever did was
feel
where things were generally
located if I concentrated on them hard enough. That was all. But I was so
arrogant, I believed what little gift I did have should be put to good use, so I
became a cop. Then my locating gift left me around the time I found what should
have remained hidden. Once that happened, it should have been the end of all
this goddamn Nephilim crap I’ve had to put up with. But because life sucks,
things haven’t worked out that way. This demon doesn’t give a shit that I don’t
have wings or a single drop of power anymore. It’s after me, and it’ll use any
weapon at its disposal to get me, including you. That’s why I won’t let you out
of my sight. I’d love to, believe me, but I can’t. I refuse to be responsible
for any more deaths.”

By degrees his words sank in, seeping through the cushioning
walls of denial in which she tried to wrap herself. As much as she wanted to
cling to the idea this was all in her head, that was hard to do when she could
feel his massive weight bearing her down into the mattress.

I
won’t
let
you
out
of
my
sight
.
I’d
love
to
,
believe
me
,
but
I
can’t
.

Now there was a dose of realism she couldn’t ignore. If there
was one thing that could bring on the clarity, it was rejection. Nevertheless,
letting go of a world she’d always known without putting up a fight just wasn’t
her style.

“You do know how irrational all of that sounds, right?” Even to
her own ears, she sounded weak. “Angels and demons and...oh, man.
Wings
.”

“You’ve seen my back. I don’t have any wings.” And it sounded
like he hated himself for it. Another shot of reality her brain couldn’t
possibly have conjured up on its own. “Unlike the other descendants, I’ve never
known what it’s like to fly.”

“Whoa, wait. There are
more
of
you?”

She felt him nod. “It’s funny, but of all the things my mother
took from me, her maiming me is the one thing I regret most of all. I don’t care
that it no doubt killed the bulk of my locating ability. Without ever having
flown, I still miss doing it with every part of my soul.”

“This is just...I don’t know. Such a bagful of crazy.” Then she
shook her head. “So much so that I almost believe it. After what I saw today...I
mean, what I
think
I saw—”

“You did see it. And it saw you. That’s where the
pain-in-the-ass trouble comes in.” Very carefully, as if expecting her to launch
a ninja sneak attack, he inched to one side. The bulk of his impressive weight
eased, though he left no doubt that he’d body-slam her the moment hysteria tried
to pop up again. For a fleeting moment she toyed with the idea of throwing a
hissy fit, just to see where it got her.

I
have
to
be
crazy
to
think
that
at
a
time
like
this
.

“You’re going to have to explain that one.” To her dismay her
bottom and thighs grew disproportionately warm as he shifted around on top of
her, and her nerves began to tingle in the most distracting way. “What do you
mean by trouble?”

“Newsflash—it’s never a good thing when a demon looks right at
you with those glowing red eyes and makes note of your existence. Worse yet, it
saw me run in front of a bus to save you before it took off with its buddy
Richard. That means it knows it can get to me through you. And it will if I let
my guard down. Which I won’t, in case you’re wondering.”

“That’s good to hear,” she said, while her brain snagged on a
point that made all the doubt come flooding back. “I didn’t see any red eyes.
All I saw were a couple of dead people. A couple of dead people whose faces were
being worn by the same person...”

When she shuddered he pressed back down on her, as if he wanted
to crush out the fear and madness. The hand that kept her from head-butting him
in the face gentled, his fingers sliding rhythmically through her hair as if she
were a tantrum-prone child. But there was nothing childlike in the way he
caressed her temple or massaged the nape of her neck. His touch communicated a
deep need to both soothe and please her, as if he wanted to blot out the bad
with what little good he could offer. Her forehead dropped to the mattress, her
neck arching like a kitten being stroked, and it was nothing short of a relief
to sink into the simple comfort of human contact.

“Not everyone can see those telltale red eyes, so I’m not
surprised you didn’t see it. Even though I no longer have power, I can still
spot the demonic from a mile away. Worse yet, the demon’s eyes weren’t the only
ones showing red. For whatever reason, Richard Rainier has sold his soul. This
makes him as dangerous as the demon itself.”

“Oh.” It was a nice, safe word that didn’t reveal how much the
whole subject made her want to bury her head in the sand and pretend it didn’t
exist. “Do you think Richard and...and that thing he had with him were behind
the deaths of Gabrielle Litte and Briella Fields?”

“Yeah, I do.” His voice was as dark as night with no hope of a
sunrise. “I think it’s pretty obvious it was Rainier’s intention to wipe out
everyone who could be Gabriella Littlefield.”

“But why? And why would he sell his soul? It couldn’t just be
because of the money his grandmother willed to me, could it?”

“I don’t know. The only thing I know for sure is that he and
the demon he had with him won’t get another shot at you. I’ll make damn sure of
that.” He shifted to free the hand that was trapped beneath their bodies and
stretched for the bedside phone, partially squishing her in the process. “For
now let’s order some room service and rest up. I have a feeling tomorrow’s going
to make today look like a leisurely walk in the park.”

* * *

Nate heard water lapping against the side of the
rowboat. Rhythmic. Gentle. A full moon hung low over a lighthouse perched on the
lonely end of a jetty. Onshore far in the distance a giant circle of light shone
like a beacon, while behind it a massive glass box flashed as if it contained a
hurricane’s worth of lightning.

A
storm
is
coming
.

His hands tightened on oars he didn’t remember picking up, and
as he looked at them it occurred to him that once again he was dreaming. Without
a doubt he was a Grade-A landlubber. There was no way he’d voluntarily be in a
rowboat out in the middle of what appeared to be an ocean.

“Nate.”

Ella. Her voice was fast becoming his personal drug of choice,
though he wasn’t about to let her in on his blooming addiction. After the hell
life had put her through, the last thing she needed to know was that the mere
sound of her voice both soothed his nerves and excited him as profoundly as an
intimate caress. When that voice called his name, the troubles of the world
melted away.

“Nate.” She was seated across from him in a fancy
off-the-shoulder ball gown that was the same color as the night-darkened water
around them. “We need to get to shore if you want to finish this.”

“I know.” And suddenly he did know. Every instinct he possessed
screamed for him to move, move,
move
; the storm
brewing within the glass box called his name. He dug the oars into the water and
pulled with all his might; muscles strained and lungs burned with the effort as
he rowed for what seemed like an eternity. But no matter how hard he pulled, the
shore remained a distant impossibility.

“That won’t work.”

“I don’t know how else to do it.” He looked up to find Ella
standing precariously on her seat, facing the shore and now dressed in her
kickboxing outfit, complete with pink boxing gloves. “Get down from there, it’s
dangerous. You’ll fall.”

“It’s worth the risk. The question is, what are you willing to
risk?”

God, he hated it when dreams made no sense. “I don’t know what
you mean.”

“You mother was a coward, you know. She wasn’t willing to take
a risk and live up to her full potential. It’s sad how you share that
trait.”

Fury sliced through him. “That’s bullshit. I always embraced my
gift. I tried my best to help people with it, though I was nowhere near as
talented as she was. I never once denied what gifts I had.”

“But the moment things didn’t go exactly the way you wanted,
you killed part of yourself, just like your mother.”

“I’m.
Not
. Like. Her.”

“Then why can’t you see what you must find?”

“I already found you. I don’t need to find anything else.”

At last she pulled her attention away from the shore, and a
jolt went through him when he noticed the eyes staring back at him were a vivid
cornflower blue rather than the dark brown he was used to. “
Need
? What you
need
to do is move, Nate.
When are you going to cut free of your anchor?”

Nate bared his teeth. “I mean it from the bottom of my heart
when I say that I don’t have time for this shit.
What
anchor?”

“Don’t you see it?”

“What...?” Automatically he looked around, only to discover a
chain looped around his wrist and up his arm, winding all the way around his
body. The other end trailed into the inky dark water, but it was still clear
enough for him to see there were people tangled up in the heavy links. He
recognized the faces of the family he’d found and returned to their deaths.
Beyond them on another chain branching off from the original strand, floated
Briella Fields and Gabrielle Litte, along with Jasmine Sims. They all stared
back at him as if waiting for him to...

What? What was he supposed to do?

Avenge
them
.

“Let go of this anchor, Nate. It’s crippling you at a time when
you’re needed the most. You need to find him before he’s ready. If you
don’t...”

When Ella didn’t finish, he looked back to where she stood,
only to find himself alone in the boat. “Ella?” More chains clinked over the
boat’s side. Sick dread washed over him when he looked back into the water and
saw Ella with the rest of the dead.

“
Ella
!” His scream echoed in his
ears when he bolted wide awake into Ella’s arms.

Chapter Eleven

Ella squinted as she turned on the light over the combined kitchenette-living area, then stubbed her toe on the pullout sofa bed she’d been sleeping on when Nate’s yell woke her. She’d never been stellar first thing after waking, but being hollered out of a surprisingly sound sleep had her at a new uncoordinated low.

“Looks like water’s pretty much the only thing I can offer up.” After cussing out her stubbed toe and perusing the mini-fridge, she plucked up a cold bottle and moved to the king-sized bed she’d insisted he take. The very idea of him trying to fit on the flimsy sofa bed was snort-worthy, and after the information overload she’d endured she’d felt like she could sleep anywhere. “If we were at my place, I could offer you some merlot.”

“At four in the morning, water is about as much as I can handle.” He took the bottle with a nod of thanks, and by the time she’d settled next to him, he’d downed half its contents. “Sorry about this.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

That was that, then. “I’m not sure, but I thought I heard you call my name.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Okay.” She didn’t believe him, but she’d had enough nightmares to know there were some kinds of pain rooted too deeply to be tugged out in just one idle conversation.

That he was hurting was obvious; the light streaming in from the living area of the suite struck harsh lines in his face, underscoring the haggard restlessness she sensed prowling inside him. But even exhausted and strung out he was still the best-looking man she’d ever crossed paths with. She’d never known anyone with such an aggressively masculine jaw, now covered in the black shadow of a days-old beard. And there was something about those strong brows hooding intense eyes that had the ability to put a spell on any female over the age of consent. His body was pure centerfold material, fueling her dreams with a hair-roughened chest as thick as a cinderblock wall and a muscle-padded rib cage that made her fingers itch to learn his contours like a blind woman memorizing a statue through her sense of touch...

Those eyes were watching her as she took her time drinking in his savage masculinity. He wore the familiar sweatpants and nothing else, and she had a feeling he’d only slipped those on to sleep in out of respect for her.

Respect was overrated.

Ella moistened her lips, only to find her mouth had gone dry. She couldn’t help but wonder if he had any idea how tempting it was to have all that manly acreage within inches of her. It would be so easy to lean to the side, brush his gleaming golden-hued shoulder with hers, glide her hand down that whiskered jaw, past the surprisingly elegant column of his throat, to roam over the curve of a pectoral to the shallow valley where his heart lay...

“Maybe you should think about putting your eyes back in your head and getting back to your own bed.”

Slam
.

It was a miracle her teeth didn’t pop out, she was brought back to earth so hard.

The acid burn of humiliation stung her face with white-hot pinpricks, and she jerked to her feet so he couldn’t see the crimson glow of it. But by the time she’d crossed into the living area of the suite, the agony of that humiliation melded with a razor-edged anger that cut at her until she was a bloody mess. After a rejection like that, there was no way she could accept the idea of just meekly crawling into her cold and lonely bed without so much as a whimper in response. If he didn’t find her appealing, fine. His prerogative. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to get away with making her feel like an idiot for being attracted to him.

“Maybe you should put a damn shirt on if you’re uncomfortable with me noticing you in all your spectacular male glory. Trust me, there’s no need for you to look like such an outraged virgin—I wasn’t going to jump your bones. You might be some great eye candy, but I’m not into raping uninterested men.” And with that, she snapped off the light and stomped to the pale blob that was the pullout bed. Not exactly the stinging retort she’d been going for, but what the hell. It would do in a pinch.

No sooner had she plopped down on the side of the bed, a light flared in the other section of the suite.

“Oh no, you don’t. You don’t get to turn the lights out just when things are getting good.” Nate appeared, leaning against the partial wall separating the sleeping and living sections of the suite. Though it was just about the last thing she wanted to do, Ella glanced over her shoulder as he crossed his arms over that chest she ached to taste. She could have sworn the bastard had the gall to flex his pecs. “Eye candy?”

“Yeah. As in, all sugar and no substance.” There. Let him chew on that for a while.

He shrugged. The pecs danced again. “I’m cool with that. I like candy.”

“Good for you.” Still aflame with humiliation, embarrassment and a growing desire that wouldn’t shut up, Ella ignored the stifling bedclothes and instead lay down on top of the scratchy blanket with her back to him. “Good night.”

“What about that spectacular male glory you mentioned? I’m interested in hearing just how spectacular you think my male glory is.”

Oh
,
please
. “Since you’ve made it abundantly clear the feeling isn’t mutual, you can speculate on that all by your lonesome and leave me the hell out of it. Now go to bed.”

“Bed, huh? Well, normally I’m not into pushy women, but for you I suppose I can make an exception.”

If she hadn’t been lying down already, she would have fallen over in shock when the rickety bed groaned in protest as he stretched out beside her. “What the hell are you—”

“Don’t blame me, you started this. I’d have to hand in my official Red-Blooded Guy membership card if I didn’t at least try to find a way to persuade you to finish it.”

The bed squealed as she jerked to a sitting position, and it took every ounce of will she had not to openly drool over the picture he made. Shirtless and with his sweatpants riding low on lean hips, Nate reclined with his bare feet crossed at the ankles and his muscle-sculpted arms folded behind his head as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Then he smiled at her, a singularly predatory smile of a wolf eyeing a plump little lamb, and her belief in his disinterest died a quick death. A world of hunger burned in his eyes, and there was no doubt it was on the verge of flaring out of control.

“You need an operating manual,” she heard herself say. It was the only thing she could do to cover how her heart rate zoomed into a beat that made flamenco seem pokey. “I need step-by-step instructions on how your system works. One minute you’re the protective big brother, the next you’re a stand-offish cold fish, and a moment after that you’re doing your best impression of the king of gigolos. Who are you going to be next?”

“I’ll always be the guy who protects you. Though I have to say, you’re an idiot if you think there’s anything brotherly about me.”

“Do I look like an idiot?”

“You look like you need to work out some serious frustration. It just so happens I’m up to the task of helping you out.” He sent a significant glance down his body, and on automatic her gaze followed his. Despite the gloom of only one bedside lamp in the next room, Ella had no trouble making out the rigid thrust of his erection barely covered by the loosely drawn sweatpants.

Hello.

A flood of heat swamped her, hitting so hard and fast she could have easily believed she was suffering a delirium-inducing fever. Though suffering was hardly right, and she couldn’t stop the relieved smile as she glanced back at him. He remained statue-still, his heavy-lidded eyes trained on her face like a big cat waiting to pounce.

Waiting
.

She had no clue what he was waiting for.

“I’m fresh out of engraved invitations.” As if in slow motion she turned to face him, curling her legs underneath her while the bed wheezed and squawked. “Let me guess—you’re shy.”

A low breath escaped him, whether a laugh or a moan she couldn’t be sure. “If you were anyone else I would already be inside you, and you’d be screaming my name for all the neighbors to hear.”

Her inner heat elevated to the level just below insanity, and the cleft between her thighs swelled with a dampness that made her squirm. Wasn’t he a confident one. “So...what then? What is it about me that makes you hold back?”

“You matter to me.”

Ella stilled as the impact of the words arrowed straight through her to settle in her very core, glowing with such sweet purity it all but crushed the breath from her. “You’re not hesitating because you think I’m...” She made herself say the words that had been lurking like a poisonous snake in the back of her mind. “Damaged goods?”

“No.”

The immediacy of his response killed the snake outright. “Is it because I’m scarred?”

“I have scars on my back too.”

She knew he had seen her when she first came out of the woods. But she had to be sure. “Charles Rainier...he carved wings into my back.”

“My mother hacked mine off.” His arms remained folded behind his head while the eyes he trained on her all but glowed with heat. It was a heat sparked from raw desire that, amazingly enough, existed just for her. “In a completely screwed-up way, we make the perfect pair.”

“If we’re so perfect, why aren’t you touching me?”

“I want you to do it.”

Her eyes widened. “Do what?”

“Anything. Everything. Whatever you want. Wherever you want. As of this moment, I am yours to do with what you will.”

Her mind boggled at the world of delight his permission opened up for her. But one question remained. “Why?”

“I refuse to scare you. Not after what you’ve been through.”

“You couldn’t possibly scare me. What happened two years ago and what’s happening now are worlds apart, because this is my choice.
You
are my choice.” And with that simple fact thrown out for him to deal with, she leaned over him, bracing her hands on either side of his body, and captured his mouth with hers.

From the first moment Ella had spotted him across the gym, she’d wondered what it would be like to kiss him. With his leading-man good looks and pulse-pounding charisma, she’d suspected it would be explosive. Mind-fracturing. Powerful enough to knock entire planets out of orbit.

She hadn’t even been close.

An overwhelming wave of sensation bloomed in the nerves at the point of contact, tingling her lips to ripple outward until her body was steeped in vibrant delight. His lips were warm, responsive, crushed silk over hard steel, and they molded against hers with an eagerness that made her believe he’d done this with her countless times in his mind.

Or, maybe she was merely hoping his need mirrored her own.

His mouth opened at the increase of pressure, and a soundless moan feathered over her when she invaded the moist territory with her tongue. She wanted to enthrall him as he did her. But in the end she was the one who fell under the spell as he met her, stroke for stroke. His head came up to meet the lush invasion as if he might die if he didn’t drink in the taste of her all at once, and his greedy ardor made her head swim. His tongue toyed with hers in a rollicking game of give-and-take pleasure, and the hidden flesh at the juncture of her thighs ached all the more with searing need.

Yet they were only kissing.

With that thought surfacing in her mind, she was suddenly impatient for more. A sound that could have been regret escaped him when she lifted her head, but when she slid a hand down his flat, muscle-ridged stomach to the waistband of his sweats, his hand shot out and shackled her wrist.

Startled, she looked to him. “What?
Are
you shy?”

“No. I just...” He was breathing hard, as if he were already gloved inside her, and with a pained hiss he let her go and seemed to struggle to force his hand back under his head, resuming his position of submissive vulnerability. “I have a request.”

He definitely had her attention. “What?”

“You first.”

She stared at him.

“Undress yourself first. Then undress me. I’ll stay like this, and you can do whatever you want.”

Oh
,
my
.

Her heart went still for what seemed like forever. Then it surged forward, somersaulting over itself to catch up while his words reverberated in the sudden echo chamber of her head. She heard the fine shuddering of his breath, coinciding with the tightening muscles of his lower abdomen, the twitching restlessness of his hips as he rubbed the tip of his iron-hard sex against her pelvis that she kept teasingly suspended over him. He wanted her. No, it was more than that. He was on the brink of madness with his need for her, but he withheld himself from taking what he wanted in favor of making sure she was the one in charge. That was why he kept his hands locked behind his head. That was why he didn’t want his fully aroused body free of clothing. These were the last restraints he had, and he was determined to hold onto them until he knew she was sure.

Silly, sweet man. She’d just have to prove to him that she was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted.

She slipped off the bed, ignoring its shrill creak, and turned to face him with a half-smile. “Just to be clear, I wasn’t raped during my captivity—I was nothing more than a canvas. And while I’ll always be marked by that so-called
artwork
, I refuse to be ashamed of my scars.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“But I’ll admit, I have always been leery about anyone else seeing them. I never wanted the inevitable questions, or worse—pity. I never thought I deserved pity for surviving.” She kept her tone light while she moved to the foot of the bed, as though they were sharing idle chatter over a cozy pot of tea. His eyes followed her, unblinking, as if unable to look away. She slid her fingers under the hem of the long-sleeved shirt she’d opted to sleep in, lifting it to show the merest glimpse of pale flesh. “You’re not the squeamish type, are you? I could always keep this on...”

“No.” It was a gruff sound of torment. “Off.
Now
.”

“If you’re sure.” Heady excitement shallowed out her breath, and she drew out the anticipation for them both by shimmying the material ever so casually up the length of her torso, pausing just at the tips of her unfettered breasts. With one quick move she pulled her head free, the shirt still on her arms and covering her front.