Angel of Chaos (Imp Book 6) (33 page)

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Authors: Debra Dunbar

Tags: #Paranormal, #Fantasy, #Romance, #demons, #angels, #nephilim, #contemporary fantasy, #urban fantasy, #paranormal romance, #fantasy humor

BOOK: Angel of Chaos (Imp Book 6)
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“I believe ‘default’ would be the correct term. The fifth choir … or you could remain in mine.”

Damn Gregory for spoiling all my fun. I spun about to leave in a huff, only to have him grab my arm and spin me back around.

“Which shall it be, Dalmai?”

As if there was any question as to what his choice would be — an angel, even if he was a potato–chip–eating one, or an imp of a demon that had somehow managed to become the Iblis.

Dalmai licked swollen and bruised lips. “Her. I’m taking the fifth.”

Well, I’ll be damned.

“Dalmai Haseha Huzia Rami, pending approval of your petition to enter the seventh choir, you are temporarily placed in the fifth. You will carry out the duties and responsibilities assigned by your superiors without argument and with due respect. Your rehabilitation is at the hands of the Iblis.” Gregory turned to face the two women behind us. “Nyalla, could you please remove the collar?”

She stepped over the hog–tied angel, letting her foot kick him in the face. With a quick flick of her fingers, the collar was in her hands.

“All yours, Cockroach.” Gregory gestured toward Dalmai. “I’ll take the girls back to your home and put on a pot of coffee.”

His hand left my arm, and I heard three sets of footsteps ascend the stairs. Dalmai remained on the basement floor, injured and bound, although he now had the ability to correct both.

“Would you like my assistance?” Nils’s smile was a tad on the evil side, even for a Fallen angel.

I shook my head. “Nah. Go drink coffee and hang out at my house. This won’t take long. I’ve got shit to do.”

I waited until I heard the slap of Wyatt’s screen door before turning my attention to the angel on the floor. What to do, what to do? There were so many delicious options to consider. Wyatt’s basement held lots of interesting possibilities. An assortment of tools hung from a pegboard. Christmas decorations lay beneath an inch of dust under the staircase. A variety of sporting equipment lined the walls.

Whip him with a fishing rod? Remove his fingers with the tin snips? Nah. The speed with which the Ruling Council considered agenda items meant I could have years with this guy. Plenty of time to let my impish imagination run wild.

I selected a rusty set of hedge clippers from the pegboard. There was no reason for Wyatt to have these things. I don’t think a hedge had been trimmed on his property since 1967. Still, these landscaping tools had their uses. Dalmai’s jaw set in a determined line as I approached him. Sliding the clipper blade under an electrical cord, I positioned the rusty point against the hollow in his neck.

He took a breath and held it.

With a snap, I brought the handles of the trimmers together and cut the cord. Well, I attempted to cut the cord. Those things are fucking tough, and the clippers were dull as a butter knife. After three tries, the extension cord broke. I jerked it from the angel, flinging him against the block wall as it spooled from him.

“Heal yourself.”

He staggered to his feet and stared at me in astonishment. “Yes, Mistress.”

With a flash, he stood before me completely healed. Although his head was bowed, I could see him eyeing the dull, rusty clippers. I tossed them aside and walked around the basement, searching.

“Ah.” Picking up a soccer ball, I juggled it from hand to hand as I approached Dalmai. I could practice kicking it against his head. Nah. Ooh, or I could implant it under the skin of his abdomen and make him walk around with a fake pregnant bump for a few days. Might make him a bit more sympathetic for Harper’s condition. Or I could deflate it, shove it up his ass, and then re–inflate it. Hmmm.

He raised an eyebrow at the ball.

“Odd. I’d pegged you for more of an American football fan.” His hand twitched, but the sardonic twist was back to his lips. Some angels had no sense of self–preservation whatsoever.

“You assaulted one of my Fallen. You sealed my girl in her room. You took the woman I’ve sworn to protect and attempted to turn her over to another angel. You plotted to have her unborn child killed — another being I’ve sworn to protect. That’s four of my household — I mean choir, that you’ve done wrong by.”

Dalmai swallowed, his Adam’s apple dipping and rising with the effort. It gave me an idea.

Reaching out, I touched him, pouring my energy through the flesh of his corporeal form. “Dalmai Haseha Huzia Rami, I curse you to remain fully present in the form of a human for as long as I wish it. You will not be able to heal your injuries. You will need to consume food and beverage in order to sustain yourself. You will feel the urges of your physical body. You will be swayed by the seductive song of sin.”

He gasped as the pore–less ivory of his skin turned slightly tanned. His features became more defined, and the body beneath his clothing took on the muscle and sexual organs it had lacked before. I ran a broken fingernail down his arm, and he jerked away, clasping his hand over the pink line.

“There. Remain in this house until I return for you. Don’t fuck up any of Wyatt’s computer shit, or I’ll let him shoot you with his guns. Trust me, it will hurt like fuck, and you’ll bleed all over the place.”

I turned, kicking the hedge clippers out of the way as I walked to the staircase. I was halfway up when I heard the frightened whine of Dalmai’s voice.

“Mistress. Where are you going?”

I paused. “Home. Where the people I love are having a hot cup of coffee and probably breaking into that key lime pie I bought yesterday. If you get hungry, I think Wyatt has some canned peas in the cupboard upstairs.”

Continuing up the stairs, I ignored his repeated pleas not to leave. It wasn’t just the coffee calling my name. I had a deadline, and I wasn’t sure that this showdown — no matter how well choreographed, was going to go as planned.

–29–

T
he key lime pie was half gone, and Gregory was making a second pot of coffee by the time I walked through my front door. Something light and giddy bubbled through me to see them there. Mine. My angel, frowning as he precisely measured the coffee grounds, Harper, resting her pie plate on her belly as she leaned back in her chair and sighed happily, Nils and Nyalla tussling over the can of whipped cream. I had to make this work. Somehow I had to pull off a miracle and make this all work.

“No, like this.” Nyalla wrestled the whipped cream away from Nils and tilted her head back, spraying it into her mouth. “Mfff, mmm.”

The Fallen laughed and swiped a finger along the edge of her lips, scooping up stray whipped cream. As he raised it to his mouth, I saw something flash in his eyes — something I recognized quite well. Ooh, that bastard!

“Nils, I am your Mistress, and I require that you answer me truthfully. Have you participated in anything of a sexual nature with
any
of the residents of my household?”

There. That was broad enough that he shouldn’t be able to wiggle out of it.

The angel started, looking rather ridiculous with a raised finger covered in whipped cream and a rather petrified expression on his face. Slowly he turned to look at Nyalla, then back to me, his cheeks crimson.

“Yes. Uh, well, Nyalla and I have engaged in acts that have lowered my vibration pattern significantly.”

Nyalla snorted, waving the canister of whipped cream. “You say it like we were out killing puppies and kittens. There’s nothing wrong with having sex.”

I struggled with the urge to rip Nils’s head off. Or some other part of his anatomy. “You are having sex with Nyalla? After all that bullshit about how taking advantage of humans was so loathsome, you’re not only having sex with one, but one that is under my protection?”

He must have heard the violence in my voice because he took a quick step backwards. “No! I mean, yes. It wasn’t my fault. She seduced me.”

“What?” Nyalla shrieked, whacking Nils in the chest with the can of whipped cream. “I did not! You’re the one who was walking around naked in the middle of the night with a hard–on.”

“That thing is always hard! You’re the one who proposed we do something about it. I thought you meant ice it or something, not … that.”

“Oh, you! “ Nyalla was now beating him in earnest. “Did you tell me to stop? No. Instead, you got busy with
your
hands and mouth. And I did
not
initiate it the other six times. Or was it seven?”

Nils raised his hands to shield himself from Nyalla’s blows. “I couldn’t help it — not with you right there and all the memories of what it felt like pouring through my mind. I’m not in control of my genitals. It wasn’t my fault.”

“Men! It’s always the penis’s fault. You’ll blame everything from poor financial decisions to substance abuse on one organ.” Nyalla feinted with the can and drove her fist into Nil’s nose when he ducked. She didn’t hit hard enough for it to bleed, but the Fallen howled as if he had been gutted with a splintery wooden spoon. “Well, no need to worry any longer. When I get through with you, you won’t have any penis to blame.”

“Nyalla, wait!” As entertaining as this was, I feared she might truly make good on her threat. I was sure Harper had a knife handy to loan her. Giving Nils the Bobbitt treatment would need to wait a bit, though. He was my Fallen, and I needed to make sure he understood what a poor decision he’d made. It wasn’t that I cared about him having sex with Nyalla — they were both consenting adults, and I had always been partial to the sin of lust — it was his hypocritical posturing. And his throwing my girl under the bus when he was clearly attracted to her, both physically and otherwise.

I scowled, taking a step toward the angel. His hands came up.

“I swear. I’m not used to all the sensation; I’m not used to this appendage.” He waved one hand toward his groin. “It has a mind of its own. It does what it wants. I’m Fallen, and this is truly a punishment, to be so influenced by a part of my anatomy that I sin with humans.”

Yeah, whatever. I didn’t blame Nyalla one bit. Nils was fucking hot, and who could resist a Fallen angel? But four–million years should have taught this guy some restraint as well as the ability to take responsibility for his actions.

“Oh, beloved angel of mine, what do you recommend as an adequate punishment in this instance?”

Gregory took a sip of coffee and crossed his arms in a pensive pose. “Well, nailing an angel’s wings together and tossing him off a cliff has proven to be a horrifying penalty, but Fallen do not have wings. Perhaps something to do with the body part in question?”

That gave me a great idea. “Stay here,” I commanded my Fallen before racing upstairs to ransack Leethu’s former bedroom. My only hope was that Harper hadn’t found the item I was searching for and tossed it.

Nope. I headed downstairs waving the metal device triumphantly in the air. It looked like some sort of plumbing fixture — which, in a way, it was.

“Drop your pants,” I commanded Nils. He did as asked, and Harper edged around to the side to get a better look. Nils might be an angel, but he was nicely proportioned. And the item I held in my hand was going to be waaay too small. Good.

I reached forward and grabbed hold, shoving the spiral of metal onto the organ in question before looping another section around his balls and locking it in place. Nils shivered, looking down at me with huge, frightened eyes.

“You say you can’t control your cock, well this will do it for you. No way you’re getting stiff with this thing on.” I stepped back and admired the device. Leethu knew her shit, and she did love using toys.

“And if he removes it?” Gregory asked. He was a few shades paler than normal as he eyed the device.

I swung a little brass key around my pinky. “Humans need this key to remove it. Since Nils could easily break it, I’ll have to trust him to leave it on.”

Nils’s eyes glowed with a very un–angelic glint before he lowered his head. “Yes, Mistress.”

‘Yes, Mistress’ my ass. “Since I don’t trust him one little bit, I activated the transmitter here.” I touched the blinking light. “I’ll be alerted if you remove the device. Trust me, you don’t want to do that.”

“How will you be alerted, Cockroach?” Gregory came closer to the Fallen, eyeing the light skeptically.

“There’s an app for that.” A total lie, but it’s not like Nils or anyone else would know.

“What happens if he takes it off?” Harper asked, fingering a knife with a rather disturbing light in her eyes.

“I’ll let Nyalla decide that one.” I waved a finger at Nils. “Now, pull up your pant and go down to the basement for the evening. Do not pass go, do not collect two–hundred dollars.”

We watched him stomp away, sullenly slamming the basement door on his way down. I tossed the little brass key to Nyalla.

“You’re in charge of the key. I’m going to be kind of busy the next few days, so if there’s an emergency and you need to let him out, go ahead.”

She sniffed but gave the key a long look before shoving it in her pocket. “It could rot and fall off and I wouldn’t care. There won’t be an emergency serious enough to ever let him out of that thing.”

Harper put her arm around the girl, and the two headed upstairs, loudly discussing the perfidy of angels.

“You know she’ll have him out of it by nightfall,” Gregory commented.

“Yep.” Nyalla might be pissed, but she was also a young horny girl and Nils was gorgeous. “Honestly, her method of torture will probably do more to straighten out my Fallen than the cock cage.”

“You’re evil. I like that.” Gregory chuckled and pulled me into his arms. I wrapped myself around him, rubbing my face against his shirt and relaxing against him. “You’re an excellent Iblis — amazingly creative and intuitive when it comes to punishment. I have a premonition you’ll be surprisingly effective at raising vibration levels among us all.”

I shuddered. “I’d rather be lowering vibration levels. You angels need some serious attitude adjustments, especially that brother of yours.”

“Rafi?” Gregory’s chest shook with laughter. “He was nearly designated an Angel of Chaos. He’s about as borderline as they get.”

I pulled back and punched his chest, smiling at our light teasing. “No, idiot. I mean that asshole Gabe. Rafi is cool in my books. That other brother needs a hot branding iron up his ass, and pronto. If he doesn’t get laid soon, he’s going to explode.”

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