Angel's Kiss (23 page)

The nibbling on my ear was driving me wild, my breaths short and shallow. I twisted in his arms, seeking his lips with mine, and found bliss …

Danny lay on his side and leaned on his elbow, his free hand tracing wavy patterns on my arm. He smiled a decidedly
wicked
smile, for an angel.

“I’m thinking I might have to install one of those in the cottage.”

“I know I was dying for a shower, and they’re great if you want to clean up quickly,” I placed my hand on his hip and drew myself a little closer, until I could feel his warm breath on my face, “but have you ever had a spa bath?”

He laughed, picked me up from the bed and carried me to the bathroom. The bath, not surprisingly, was already full, the jets swirling. Bubbles rose above the sides of the bath like a well-risen soufflé and I heard the faint, yet familiar bubbly murmuring sound they made as we pierced them climbing in —
such fun, such fun!

As we came up for air — even angels need a break — Danny sighed happily.

“I think I’m going to need to do some major renovations to the cottage.”

“You know what would be great?” I said wistfully. “A swimming pool.”

“What would we need a pool for?” he asked.

“Have you ever been skinny dipping?”

He laughed. “Perhaps I was wrong. Maybe you are a perverter of angels after all — a seductress.”

“Ah, Mr Malakh, I’m only the perverter of
one
angel,” I said, and slid under the water again.

Later, much later really — the sun had already set — I chose what I’d wear for our assault on the night. Something that would look stunning
and
draw the eye. Danny lay on the bed watching me. He wasn’t worried about clothing. He had only to think about it and he’d be clothed.

What a time saver that would be,
I thought.

I looked at the bottles of perfume, trying to decide which one to wear.

“Danny, what do I smell like?”

I could see the confusion on his face. Maybe my question wasn’t worded right.

“Vampires and werewolves have a distinctive scent,” I said, sorting through the bottles of perfume. “So do you. And the mortals I’ve come in contact with recently also have a smell that defines them as mortal. The only exception I’ve seen so far is the varakiana.”

I spotted a perfume that seemed perfect.

Angel,
I laughed.
I’ll wear Angel. How fitting!

“What’s so funny?” Danny asked.

“The perfume.” I held up the bottle of Angel. “It’s actually one of my favourites.”

“I know,” Danny smiled. “Anyway, your scent … that’s what you want to know about, isn’t it?” I nodded. “It’s fresh and clean. Not quite mortal, but definitely not vampire. There’s something there I should know, but I can’t pick it. It’s a pleasant, pure and calming scent. I like it, and it suits you.”

“That’s nice to know. I’d hate to smell like a vamp.”

I picked up my chosen outfit — a seductively chic ruby red dress with matching shoes and clutch — and sashayed to the bathroom, wiggling my booty on the way. I’d been told, on many occasions, that I had great legs — legs that went all the way to a fantastic arse. A woman will use any weapon in her arsenal when she has to, and tonight I’d pull out all the stops.

I poked my head around the door and called out, “I’ll be back in about half an hour.”

“Half an hour?” Danny yelled back. “Are you
serious?
”

“The wait will be worth it, believe me!”

There was a hairdryer in the bathroom, which meant I was able to style my hair into something more presentable. After I’d applied the finishing touches — makeup and a few sprays of perfume on some pulse points — I took a deep breath and returned to where Danny waited patiently for me.

He stood up the moment I entered the room and let out a low appreciative whistle. I’d never heard him whistle before. I wondered if it was something he’d picked up during his long hours of patrolling.

“You look …
breathtaking!
” he said.

I smiled and twirled, allowing him to see the entire outfit.

“I’m glad I added that to your wardrobe. There will be more than one man in hospital tonight suffering from cardiac arrest, mark my words!”

“Danny, that’s not my intention,” I laughed. “And what will you be wearing tonight, Mr Malakh?
Clothes I hope
.”

“Close your eyes,” he said, and I did. “You can open them now.”

What he’d chosen to wear was a modern take on an old classic — the suit. The cut and colour suited him well and a shirt that was open at the neck with no tie completed the picture.

“You scrub up quite well for the woodsy outdoor type,” I said.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he laughed, holding out his arm. “Shall we, Mrs Malakh?”

I linked my arm in his and we headed out into the night.

The lights were just as I remembered them, the tall skyscrapers all calling out
look at me
with their myriad of flashing neon lights or advertising. I’d always liked the lights.

We walked hand in hand through a park, sticking to the path after we’d discovered that the heels of my stilettos sank in the grassed area. Danny had cleaned off the dirt and they were as good as new, my ruby red slippers.

Three clicks of the heels and you get to go home.

I showed Danny all of my old haunts — the ones in the better part of town — and restaurants I’d been taken to. There was no need to, I knew. He’d already seen all these places in my mind, and on patrol, yet somehow it was seemed more real with him actually there. He never once complained, made derogatory remarks or became impatient. He let me take things at my own time.

At around one in the morning, when we’d been walking for close to five hours — thank goodness my feet didn’t hurt — I steered Danny in a new direction. This was the part of town decent folk, people who weren’t involved in anything sinister or criminal, didn’t go to.

Danny stopped me as we neared the invisible border between good and bad, and asked, “Are you sure you want to do this. It won’t matter to me.”

“It matters to me,” I replied. “Doesn’t my past
bother
you?”

“What you’ve
done
in the past, not in the slightest. You did what you had to in order to survive. You don’t realise how rare it is for someone who has been through so much to come out so clean and pure. It’s miraculous.”

“Pure? Hah!” I snorted. “Don’t patronise me, Danny.”

“I’m not. Your soul is still pure,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Now, what others have
done to you,
that’s a different story. That
does
bother me, but their time will come. The time comes when everyone is judged.”

“Come on,” I said. “Old
friends
await.”

I expected to feel something as we crossed the line, yet there was nothing. No fear, no anxiety, no anger nor regret. All the years I had longed to be gone from this place, to be free of it, and here I was again.

We walked past a number of bars, clubs and strip joints, stopping until we reached the pinnacle of
Sleazeville
— The Cage. It was
the
place to go,
the
place to be seen — in the underworld — and
the
place you were most likely to disappear from, never to be seen again. Kind of cement-shoes, bottom-of-the-harbour type stuff. To the unsuspecting outsider — tourists were quite often foolish enough to venture here — it looked like a hip and modern club, out of place among the garbage. That’s exactly how the preacher liked it.

The preacher … Now there was a title to make you wonder. He’d preach, though nothing
good people
would like to hear — and those who needed something, or someone, to follow were converted. He thought of himself as a saint, someone upon whom God had placed a terrible burden. He was twisted and warped. No God would have asked him to do the things he’d done, or commanded to be done.

It was time for someone to preach to the preacher.

A few doors down from The Cage I kissed Danny on the cheek and let go of his hand.

“Trust me,” I said.

He nodded, and we continued on to the front door. I could have easily headed around the back, but I wanted to make an entrance. I smiled at the bully boy babysitting the door.

“How are you, Sam?”

Sam nodded at me and unhooked the rope that was meant to stop people from wandering in off the street. It was all part of the illusion of making The Cage appear to be a classy and respectable place.

“Helena. Haven’t seen you around for a while.”

“I’ve been …
preoccupied,
” and I smiled in Danny’s direction.

“The preacher ain’t gonna like it,” Sam replied, shaking his head from side to side.

I laughed as I sauntered through the entry, Danny close behind me.

All the regulars were there. I could feel their eyes on me as I headed to the bar, their conversations dropping to a low murmur.

I leaned against the bar to talk to the barman — my short dress revealing the slightest glimpse of where my legs ended — and wiggled my butt.

“Hey, Rick, is preacher boy out the back?”

Rick turned from what he was doing. For a moment a look of surprise flitted across his face.

“Don’t let him hear you call him that, Helena. You’re in enough shit as it is.”

“Your concern touches me, Rick, but I can hardly get in any deeper, can I? I mean, being on his hit list is as far as I can go.”

He set down the glass he was drying and placed his hands on the counter. “You haven’t heard then? That order was rescinded.” He tilted his head and gave me a half smile. “The
new
order is for you to be taken to the Funhouse.”

“Ah, the Funhouse.”

That was a bit of a surprise. The preacher must have been
really
mad at me to order me tortured instead of killed outright. Maybe he was angry because I’d eluded his henchmen for so long. I turned around, my back to Rick, and rested my elbows on the bar, my eyes surveying the room for signs of trouble. I bent my right knee, hooked the heel of my shoe over the footrest, and, leaning my head back, allowed my hair to barely touch the bar. It was all
very
suggestive.

“So is he in or not?” I asked.

“What do you reckon?” he snorted. “You’ve been here often enough, you should know.”

Danny leaned against the bar, a few metres from me, listening to the exchange. The fellow on my left edged a bit closer, trying to get a better look at my cleavage.

I raised my head and turned slightly to look at the man. He wasn’t a regular. If he was he would have known better than to come so close to me.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

He pulled back and hesitated, before saying, “How much?”

“How much for
what?
”

“Look, lady, how much do you
charge?
I’ve got an itch,” he smiled at me now, “and I reckon you could scratch it for me.”

“Sorry, I’m already taken,” I purred.

“Maybe later then?” He waved a thick wad of cash under my nose. “I
can
pay. If your performance is as good as your looks, there might even be a bonus in it for you.”

Funny how his sort thought money was the answer to everything. At one time, I would have agreed with him.

“Tempting as your offer is, I think I’ll pass.”

I tipped my head back to look at Rick. The guy who’d propositioned me grabbed my wrist, wrenching my arm off the bar. I continued to smile, and it annoyed him all the more.

“Listen, you
slut,
when Johnny makes an offer, you should accept. It’s in your best interests. You don’t want your pretty face getting messed up, do you?”

Danny was at my side before I had a chance to open my mouth and reply. His hand gripped Johnny’s arm, applying the slightest of pressure — for an angel — to make Johnny go a pasty-white colour. He let go of my wrist.

“I think the lady said no.”

Danny eased his grip and Johnny pulled his arm free.

He rubbed his arm. “Okay, okay. Can’t you guys take a little
joke?
”

Danny patted Johnny’s left cheek a couple of times and smiled. “Yeah, Johnny, we can.”

We headed towards the back room. I pushed past the heavies — they didn’t even try to stop me — without a hello, to open the door.

“Hey, preacher boy, how’s it hanging?” I smiled, then hit my forehead with my palm, overacting. “That’s right, to the left.
How could I forget?
”

“
What did you call me?
” he growled.