Ashes of Angels (6 page)

“Don't be frightened.” She felt so good pressed against his bare chest. So real. “You're strong. Trust your instincts.”

“But my screwed-up instincts tell me we need to stay together.”

“To accomplish what I've set out to do.”

She nodded against his neck and shivered. “Kill the Fallen.”

“And vampires, too.”

“The Sinistari were not part of your plan.”

“They are expected. When a Fallen walks the earth a Sinistari is dispatched. I don't believe that's the last we'll encounter. Let's get you inside to warm up.” He lifted her into his arms, and she allowed it.

“The way you looked at me,” she said. “It was…”

“I know. Do you have a spell against horny angels?”

She smirked and shook her head. “Just the one that traps you between wards I've placed in my home. But, Sam…?”

He stepped inside the stairwell and brushed aside the hair from her eyes. It felt like fine silk, too valuable to set a price to. “What is it?”

“If you did have sex with me while you were in that…
form…” She winced and flashed a teary gaze at him. “Well, you know, would you try not to hurt me?”

“I will never hurt you. I vow it, because I will not again shift in your presence, demon or no demon.”

And that was all he could give her, because he didn't know the truth himself.

Would spending more time with Cassandra build on the violent compulsion to attempt her? He must strive to remain true to his word. If he sensed the compulsion coming on, he would sooner take his own life than harm her. Yet who would save the world then?

And beyond the world, all he really wanted was to leave it and get back home.

“W
e've made contact with a muse and a Fallen,” Bruce said.

“Samandiriel?”

“My men did not get the Fallen's name, but I would assume so since that is who you recently summoned. They encountered them both on the way to set up the warehouse in Berlin.”

“A Fallen together with a muse? Was he attempting her?”

Bruce winced. Such a heartless euphemism for the vicious act of rape. His man, who had witnessed it all as a lookout on a nearby rooftop, reported to him, but hadn't interfered because he hadn't wanted to become ash. Or to lose his heart, which, apparently, one of them had.

“The angel was defending her against my men.”

“That's to be expected. She is the one woman on this earth who can give him pleasure. Where are they now? In custody?”

“My man is on it.”

Which meant, they'd let them get away and now Bruce was scrambling to pick up their trail.

“The pregnant muse is Ophelia O'Malley,” he said, deciding to change the subject. “She has only been pregnant three months, but my spies say she's waddling about like a full-term mother.”

“The nephilim's gestation is rumored to be very short,” Antonio clarified. “As is its growth period. It's likely the muse will give birth soon. Have you taken her into custody?”

“Working on it. Have my best team in London, where she was last seen. The muse's sister is escorting her. And that officious Zane. Traitor.” Bruce intended to stake that bastard soon.

“He never did fit in,” Antonio muttered. “You know this is my greatest and only desire, Bruce? To walk in the light.”

“Yes, sir, I'm aware of that.”

Antonio steepled his fingers thoughtfully before him. “I remember my mother used to tell me about the daylight. We lived below even before puberty gave me the blood hunger, so I have never, ever, known what it was like to feel sun on my skin.”

That had to suck, big-time, Bruce thought. Even bloodborn vampires, like Antonio, didn't come into their vampirism until puberty, which meant they were basically mortal, and could eat and walk in the sun, until the blood hunger changed them completely.

“So many vampires can walk in the sun,” Antonio continued. “Why should I be denied light simply because my bloodline is ancient and revered? Am I damned? Are we not all damned?”

He held up a silver chain, from which dangled a silver coil. It caught the torchlight and flashed brightly. Antonio closed his eyes, as if soaking in sunbeams.

Bruce silently backed from his master's office. At times like this, when he went all introspective and waxed on about his damnation, it was better to leave him to sulk.

But his determination was renewed. No man should be denied the simple pleasures of life. Even if the sun would probably burn him after a few seconds, Antonio did deserve the pain of it, just once.

 

Cassandra stepped down the stairs outside her loft in the building stairwell. Metallic flake demon ash sifted over her hands and cheeks as she did. It tingled and felt hot, as if real ash from a flaming fire.

“It's too pretty for demon remains.”

Sam swiped the back of his hand across his chin. A blue line dashed where a cut had opened his skin. “If you know things about us, then you know the Sinistari were forged from the Fallen.”

“I do. So he was originally an angel who Fell with you?”

“Yes, but he was taken before his feet touched earth and was forged into Sinistari.”

“That's so sad, that something divine was made—” She stopped before saying
evil
. Because the truly evil ones were the Fallen. The Sinistari were the good guys.

But how to label Sam? An evil angel bent on destroying his own? That sounded accurate, but when she caught more demon ash on her palm, she couldn't decide if evil had just vanquished the real good.

And only moments earlier she had stood in his arms because she'd wanted to. She had needed to feel safe. In the arms of her destroyer.

The night could not get any stranger.

It must be close to morning. She should be standing in the shower right now, washing away the day's simple trials, like stressing over which silver piece to next work on and about leaving her date at the bar. She should not be thinking about running from angels, demons
and
vampires.

Marcus would be pissed she'd left the Schwarz without him. Or maybe not. He had been talking up the redhead.

“I'm tired.” She sat on the bottom step and toed the metallic demon ash. It glowed bright red and dispersed to talcum fineness, resembling a big pile of dust rather than ash. “Can we put off the vampire hunt until I've gotten some sleep?”

“We'll have to. The Anakim tribe doesn't walk in sunlight.”

“Just let me stay here and sleep a few hours. You return after you've killed all the vampires, Fallen and Sinistari.” She yawned. “Promise I won't ditch you.”

“I will give you energy.”

“I don't know how you can do—”

Sam pulled her to stand and clutched her against his chest. He was so solid and
there,
and yet, not warm. Not cold, either. Almost as if he were a sculpture crafted from silver. Weird but strangely appropriate.

Strong arms slid up her back and firmly caressed her against him. For the muscles strapping his body, she had expected any hug from him to hurt, but he held her as if she were fragile, delicate.

He was doing something to her. She felt him radiate through her body. Not exactly heat or a tingle, but a feeling of satisfaction. No, not exactly that, either. She felt positive, and suddenly perceived an outcome that would see her the victor. Was it hope? If the halo was supposed to give a mortal hope, as her sister believed, then perhaps an entire angel could do the same.

For the first time since this night had gone crazy, Cassandra thought about the sigil and realized it didn't itch. Why was that? Did their closeness negate the irritant power of the sigil?

Sam had come after her with mad lust in his eyes after he'd killed the demon. His silver wings…they had been gorgeous. Something she could never duplicate though she had tried. The sculpture in her bedroom was a pitiful replica of the real deal.

Gorgeous, and yet a sign of very real danger she couldn't
defend herself against no matter what tricks she pulled out of her pocket.

“How's that?” he said against her ear.

“Huh? Oh, great.” She pulled from him, following the skim of her fingers as they marked his smooth, tanned chest. “Ready for action, I guess. But do you intend to stalk about the city without any clothes? I mean, the no-shirt look works on you, but it's snowing out, buddy. We don't want to attract any more attention than you already do.”

“I will need a shirt, yes. But you are not so tired now?”

Cassandra assessed her muscles and bruised body, and realized she did feel kinda peppy. A flex of her shoulder didn't sense the heavy exhaustion she'd just experienced. “What did you do to me?”

“We have a connection, Cassandra, like it or not.”

“Raising my hand for
not.
It's a connection I don't wish to complete, if you get my meaning.”

“I understand there are reasons you cannot trust me.”

“You got that right. You said you wouldn't come after me, but then your wings popped out and—wham! I've never seen such malevolent lust in a man's eyes before. You really scared me, Sam.”

She tried not to meet his eyes, because she knew she'd find a pleading puppy-dog pout there. But it was impossible, and the moment she connected with his gaze, she fell into wonder. The true magic lived there, in his eyes. She felt powerless against it.

“I understand I must earn your trust. I cannot simply demand it. And I will, I swear to you. But that does not discount me from the desire to mate with you. You are a beautiful woman, Cassandra. I would not be a man did I not recognize that.”

“Good thing you gave me the repulsion word.”

“The more often you use it, the weaker it becomes, so use it sparingly.”

“If you keep your eyes on the vampires, and not me, maybe I won't have to use the word ever again.”

“It won't be that simple. But I thank you for your trust, cupcake.”

“You haven't earned my trust yet, buddy. And what's with the cupcake? Name's Cassandra.”

“I like the endearment. It is a common practice between mortals to name each other with sweet nicknames.”

She rolled her eyes, realizing it was fruitless to get him to stop with the silly names.

“Mr. Nelson on the first floor is about your size. Not quite so firm. He has a tendency to leave his clothes in the laundry room dryer for days. I'll slip in and borrow a shirt.”

 

Cassandra grabbed two button-up shirts and a pair of jeans, but felt squicky about taking a pair of Mr. Nelson's boxers. She guessed Sam probably didn't do underwear anyway. Or was that a secret hope?

While the angel changed in the bathroom, she dialed up her sister.

With vampires and Sinistari roaming the city, she did not want to endanger Ophelia, the pregnant muse her sister planned to escort to Berlin.

It always lightened her heart to hear her sister's voice. Cassandra had moved from London two years ago, and though they talked all the time, they only saw each other half a dozen times a year. It was never enough.

“Coco, when does your flight leave?”

“Ohmygosh, I tried to call you yesterday afternoon, Caz. We're here!”

“What? I thought it didn't leave until tomorrow?”

“Nope, last night. We landed at Hamburg four hours ago.

The flight was redirected due to bad weather. We went straight to the hotel for breakfast—”

“You and the muse?”

“Me, Ophelia and Zane.”

“Right, the sexy new man who helped you slay the angel.” Her sister had been oddly tight-lipped about Zane, other than to wax over his gorgeous muscles and how she loved to kiss him for hours. Ah, love. “You bring the angel ash?”

“Yes, it's in my suitcase, safe and sound.”

After they'd slain a Fallen, Coco had been smart enough to gather the crystallike ash left behind. It was a necessary weapon should the worst occur.

“But, Cassandra, I've lost something else. Oh…you're going to freak.”

“What?”

The pause over the phone line felt like forever creeping over Cassandra's skin. She bit her lip and met Sam's eyes as he strode into the living room to display his new attire. The jeans fit snugly and low at his square hips. The shirt, unbuttoned at the chest and sleeves, would probably be too tight, but really, she didn't mind the casual look at all. And look at those cut abs. Yikes, they were hard and firm.

She gave him a thumbs-up. The angel beamed, turning to display the clothes as if a child with new things.

She gestured to the phone and then winced, because the silence was still there between her and her sister. She and Coco never lied to one another, and Cassandra sensed this one was going to be tough.

Coco finally said, “We lost the muse.”

“What? How?” Cassandra sank to sit on the sofa. “Where is she?”

“I don't know. I left her for five minutes to go with Zane to get a skinny vanilla latte in the shopping gallery. Ophelia was complaining about back pain and said the latte would relax
her. I think she's close to giving birth, Caz. We've searched the hotel. No sign of her. It's as if she's disappeared from the earth.”

“She couldn't have gone far. You said she was huge.”

“Like she's ready to give birth to quadruplets.”

“You have to find her. She can't be alone. The poor woman.” And what if she went into labor and couldn't get to a hospital? Or worse… “Coco, there are vampires in Berlin.”

“Oh, my God.”

“You must be careful. You don't have protection against vamps—”

“I do. I mean, I know how to kill them, Caz. Stakes and beheading.”

Cassandra stared at the phone. Really? When had her sister done all the research on vampires?
She
was barely getting her feet about the creatures.

“Zane thinks he can track her heartbeats,” Coco continued, “so we should be okay.”

“Wait. Her heartbeats? What does that mean?”

“Oh, uh…oh, here's Zane. I need to go, Caz. We can't lose the muse's trail. It's only been twenty minutes since we lost her. I'll stay in touch.”

The phone clicked off, and Cassandra stared at it. That the muse was missing was cataclysmic. But something else bothered her more. “She said Zane could track the muse's heartbeats?”

Sam, who fumbled with the tiny shirt buttons, cast her a lifted brow.

“How is that possible? I don't understand that.”

“Is he vampire?”

“What? No! My sister would never…”

It occurred to her Coco had been pretty tight-lipped about her new lover of late. But a vampire? No.
Nein
. Impossible.

Hell, lately Cassandra had been insane with learning all she
could to protect herself and save the world, if it ever came to that. Okay, she'd always been like that. All focus went toward learning everything she could about angels and how to keep them away from her (like that was working). Coco had always stood in the background, going to martial arts classes with her yet sitting on the sidelines doing school homework for the two of them.

When they were teenagers Coco had originally been the adventurous one, wanting to travel the world and climb every mountain. Cassandra had always wanted to be an artist, living the celebrity lifestyle like the rich and famous.

Until Granny Stevens had sat them both down and forever altered their destinies by detailing impending doom.

Now Coco worked at a travel agency, because she never had time for adventure and, truthfully, Granny had put the fear of danger into Coco's heart.