Days of New: The Complete Collection (Serials 1-5) (44 page)

He cupped the swells in his hands, thumbing at her nipples until they were brutally tight. She felt like feathers in his hands, like her skin was so soft he might sink right through her.

“That feels good, Z,” she breathed, her hand still twisting up and down his length. Her cheeks were flushed, but when she looked at him, it was like she wasn’t even seeing him lying beneath her; a hazy cloud had descended over her moss-green eyes.

Seeing her distant look, he grew cold, as if someone had opened a window in the cabin. He shivered.“Why are you doing this?” he asked, frowning.

“I want to thank you for saving me.”

Instantly, Zarachiel removed his hands. He scooted away from her and sat up. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know, but—”

“I’m serious,” Zarachiel said, harsher than he meant to, but this was exactly what he’d been afraid of. “Those men hurt you. You shouldn’t even be thinking about this right now.”

He raked a hand over his face, like he could stab some sanity back into his head. He couldn’t believe himself. She’d just been hurt. She’d given herself over to the Loyalists to feel safe, and he’d let her do the exact same thing for him. She didn’t deserve that, yet he’d managed to put her right back in that same situation.

“I’m so sorry,” he added before she could respond. Whatever she’d been about to say fell away, her mouth gaping open for a second.

“Why are you sorry?” she finally asked, clearly shocked.

“I made you feel like you had to do this again.” Zarachiel waved a hand toward her naked chest. Instantly, she crossed her arms and covered herself up, frowning deeply. “But you don’t have to. You’re safe here. You never have to do that again.”

“But I want to.”

“You said you were thanking me.”

“So?”

Zarachiel groaned and straightened off the bed. He adjusted his pants before turning around to face her. He was still painfully hard, and he had nowhere to hide the bulge, so he just ignored it. “I’m serious. This shouldn’t have happened. I’m not supposed to be with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m an…” Zarachiel trailed off. He was a what? An angel? But that wasn’t really true anymore, was it? His home wasn’t Heaven. So why couldn’t he be with Grace if they both wanted to?

Grace sensed his indecision and scooted to the edge of the bed, reaching for him. He didn’t know why he let her pull him back to the bed, but he went until his knees were pushed against the edge of the mattress. She rubbed her breasts against his chest, her hands reaching up his neck. She pulled his head down and tried to kiss him.

He felt her warm breath against him and heard her steady breathing. Her eyes closed, and she was less than an inch from his mouth when he took a hold of her chin and turned her away. He stepped out of her hold.

“This is wrong.” He shook his head. “You shouldn’t feel like you have to do this.”

“I don’t feel like I have to. I want to.” Grace crossed her arms over her chest again and glared.

“I don’t know if you can separate those two things right now,” Zarachiel said. “You’ve just been through a really traumatic event. I think you’re just really confused.”

“You don’t know anything about me!”

From outside the bedroom door came the sound of a chair scraping back, which meant that Clark was awake again. Zarachiel scrubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes before looking back at Grace. “Look, I have to go back out there for a bit. You should get some rest.”

Grace rolled her eyes at him. “Whatever.”

Feeling like he’d just been run over by a train, Zarachiel left the room, shaking his head and craving nothing but a few deep gulps of icy air to clear his head.

Chapter Three

C
lark woke the next morning feeling haunted by not only his nightmares, but his reality too.

His eyes immediately went to Camille and searched her battered face for signs of life. After a long moment, she took a halting breath. She was flush with fever, but her skin was sallow and waxy. Even before he removed the blanket, he saw the leeches moving beneath it, like a hand caressing Camille’s skin. Gently, he lifted back the blanket and tried not to gag.

Her stomach was one big bruise, on the inside and out. Where they’d put so many leeches on during the night, her skin was riddled with countless bites, like tiny bullet wounds. They were bloody and painful looking, but the little suckers had nowhere else to bite.

Clark pulled the blanket back up and rested his forehead against Camille’s. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered to her, over and over again until the front door opened and Michaela walked in.

She stopped instantly. “Is she alive?”

Clark figured he must look pretty bad, because Michaela hadn’t even glanced at Camille, as if she’d seen all she needed to see on Clark’s face. He wished he could think of a joke, but no humor or snarky comebacks came to him. He glanced back down at Camille and wondered if they ever would again.

“No. She’s fine.”

Clark stood, his legs shaky beneath him. He nudged Zarachiel, who dozed in a chair against the bedroom door. He’d been there most of the night, leaving only to collect leeches or check outside.

“What’s wrong?” Zarachiel mumbled. He immediately stood and rubbed his eyes.

“Things are pretty bad if that’s the first thing that comes out of our mouths in the morning.” It wasn’t a joke; Clark had meant it to be the truth.

Zarachiel nodded grimly. His attention turned to Michaela. “Does she need more leeches?”

“Her stomach is all cut up. I think she needs a break,” Clark said.

“You’re right,” Michaela agreed. “No more leeches for a while. But we have something else we need to do. The Loyalists need to be taken care of.”

“What about them?” Clark asked, the exhaustion slowing his words.

“I found their camp,” Zarachiel said. “They’re at a bar in a town nearby. I didn’t have a chance to tell you because…” Zarachiel nodded in Camille’s direction. “But I found a lot of explosives in one of their trailers. They’re planning something.”

“What if they found this place?” Clark’s eyes went to Camille as the panic built deep in his chest.

But Zarachiel shook his head. “I think we would’ve known before now if they knew where we are staying, and they wouldn’t need that many explosives to take down this little cabin.”

“They might if they thought there were angels in here,” Clark argued. Anger replaced the panic, the exhaustion. He felt it so thoroughly that he didn’t know if there would ever be a time when he didn’t feel a nearly constant surge of rage in his blood.

“How would they know that?”

Very deliberately, Clark slid his eyes toward the closed bedroom door. “Did you hear what she said last night? She sounded like she actually hoped Camille would die,” he spat.

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

Clark raised his eyebrows. Zarachiel always stood up for everyone, but Clark needed his support right then. “It sounded like she did. You weren’t there. I don’t trust her.” Clark didn’t miss the quick glance Zarachiel shot in Michaela’s direction. “What? Do you not trust her either?” he asked Michaela.

“I don’t think you should be mad at her just over something she said,” Michaela answered carefully.

“Well, I am,” Clark snapped. “Because she’s shady as Hell. I don’t like her here with Camille.”

Zarachiel stiffened, his eyes narrowing. But before he could say anything, Michaela stepped in. “The Loyalists never got close enough to the cabin to know it’s here.”

“They would if she told them.”

“She hasn’t been alone to tell them! Michaela was with her!”

“Okay,” Michaela said, her voice soothing. “Let’s just focus on getting rid of the Loyalists. Z’s right about them not needing all those explosives to take down this cabin. If they were coming here, we would have known about it by now.”

Clark raked his hands through his hair, tugging at the shaggy hanks of mismatched lengths. He shoved it back and out of his eyes. “You’re right,” he agreed, forcing himself to stop dwelling on Grace’s callous remark last night. “So are we going to just march right in there and kill them all?”

“We could just scare them. Take their explosives from them or set them off at the bar,” Zarachiel offered.

“That’s a good idea,” Michaela said.

“We’ll need weapons if we’re going to run them off, so that means we need to take the car. Michaela, could you stay with Camille and Grace until we get to the bar? That would mean the girls aren’t left alone for long,” Zarachiel said, looking at Clark before continuing. “Then Michaela could meet us there, help straighten out the Loyalists before coming right back to the cabin. No more threats.”

“That we know of,” Clark said under his breath.

“Her soul feels stronger this morning,” Michaela said to comfort him. It didn’t help. “She’ll be okay until we get back, and then you can sort things out with her. But we have to get these guys first. They could hurt too many innocent people.”

Clark couldn’t help but look at Camille. His heart screamed at him to stay with her. Michaela said she was okay now, and she would know being the Angel of Death, but Clark still didn’t feel comfortable leaving Camille alone, especially with Grace. But Camille was asleep now, which was good. If she could get her rest before he came back, then they could talk about why she was refusing his help. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Let’s do this thing, then.”

It didn’t take him and Z long to sort through their weapons and ammo since there wasn’t much of either to start with. They put some in the front seat of the car with them and kept the rest in the trunk. According to Z, the Loyalists had plenty of firepower. But if they caught the group by surprise, maybe even blew up their own explosives, Clark didn’t think they would need much else just to scare the group. And with Michaela helping them, she could do some stealthy Angel of Death reconnaissance, and they could come up with the best plan possible.
It’s going to be easy
, Clark told himself. He would be back to Camille within a couple hours. With the Loyalists out of the way and that stress out of his mind, Clark could focus on Camille and convince her to let him heal her.

So Michaela stayed behind for the moment, while Clark and Zarachiel headed off in the Chevelle. The town was just a half-hour down the road, but the car smelled of blood and bone, making every moment feel like an eternity. Neither of them looked toward the backseat, where the testament to Camille’s torture was drying and coating itself to the leather. They didn’t speak because they were breathing through their mouths to avoid the reminder that Camille was possibly dying back at the cabin.

Clark tried to focus on driving as fast as he could, dodging the debris in the road and making good time. But his hands clamped the steering wheel too tight, and the car jerked and heaved beneath his tense driving.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Zarachiel said eventually. “I don’t want you to think I’m taking Grace’s side over yours. I understand that you’re worried.”

Clark clenched his jaw and flexed his fingers over the wheel. He didn’t like the weird tension between him and Z. It wasn’t natural. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to snap at you about her. But, dude, I don’t trust her. You should have seen her when we carried Camille in. She acted
excited
to watch Camille die or something.”

“What if she was afraid? And you mistook it as excitement? She’s been through something traumatic and awful. Maybe when she saw Camille, she saw herself.”

Clark honestly didn’t remember much about last night, not enough to recall whether Grace could have been afraid. He just remembered her words and his instant anger. He shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “Just don’t let your need to save people cloud your judgment here.”

Zarachiel was quiet for a long moment after. It was so long that Clark had nearly forgotten what they were talking about when Z spoke again, “Speaking of judgment…”

“Yeah?”

“This is sort of personal, and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, okay?”

“Uh…” Clark wasn’t good at personal things. He could barely handle his own.

“And I know you don’t like Grace, but just keep an open mind, okay?”

“Dude,” Clark sighed. “You like her.”

“No!” Zarachiel said quickly, too quickly. “I mean…Look. I don’t know. I’m not thinking that way about her, I promise. It’s just…well, she kind of
approached
me last night.”

“Approached?”

Zarachiel cleared his throat. “She was massaging my back and then she, uh…she started…kissing me.”

“Oh,
approached
. Right.”

“Is that strange for humans to be so…fast? I’m basically a stranger to her, and I don’t want to be too judgmental because of what she’s been through—”

“Judge away,” Clark said. “Because that is creepy.”

“Really?” Zarachiel almost sounded disappointed. “I just thought maybe she needed comfort.”

“I
really
don’t like her.”

“So that’s not normal?”