Dust of My Wings (18 page)

He took another sip of his beer and sat on the couch, his head in his free hand. How the hell had things taken such a turn?

Oh, yeah, because he was a jackass. Why did he have to lie to her? She’d closed off, her eyes devoid of the warmth he’d fallen in love with. She didn’t trust him. The fact that they’d said they loved each other was now tarnished because of his deceit.

He felt worthless.

“Self-pity doesn’t help anyone,” Ambrose admonished.

Shade glared at his friend and took the last swig from his bottle. “It’s not self-pity.”

Ambrose raised a blond brow.

Shade cursed. “Fine. It’s a little self-pity. Just let me continue for a moment, okay?”

Ambrose leaned back in the armchair. “From the look on your face, I take it our dear Lily found out the truth.”

“She’s not our dear anything.”

“Ah.”

“Dammit, Ambrose, I really fucked up.”

“Yes, you did. At first, it was unavoidable.”

Shade closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pang deep down in his soul. Yes, it hurt that he’d lost something precious. Oh, God, his heart ached, but what was worse was that he’d hurt Lily in the process. That was unforgivable.

“I should have said something sooner.”

“Yes, you should have.”

“Thanks for cutting me some slack,” he said dryly, not believing it anyway.

“Why should I?”

“You shouldn’t.”

“At least on that we agree.”

Shade closed his eyes and pictured Lily’s wide green eyes. Damn.

“Once you had developed feelings for the woman, you should have told her, but you were scared.”

Shade stiffened, the words cutting deep, but he didn’t contradict Ambrose. After all, it was true.

“I left her alone, Ambrose.”

“I know. It’s something you’ll have to rectify. Soon.”

Shade looked at the man, a sudden urgency riding him. “What?”

“I’ve just been to the council.”

His pulse thudded in his ears. “The whole council or just Striker?” Fucking brown-winged leech.

“The whole of it.”

“And? What did they say?”

“That Lily is a problem that must be rectified.”

Shade jumped to his feet. “What do you mean?”

Ambrose shook his head. “They don’t trust us to finish our assignment. They’ve put a hit out on our girl.”

Shade saw red, his body shaking. He held back his fists, not wanted to punch the messenger. “They want us to
kill
my true-half?”

“No, they want someone else to do it. They’re sending him soon.”

“You’ve got to be fucking me. What would killing her accomplish?”

“Striker is adamant.”

“That fucker wants to kill her because of a speck of dust?”

“And they don’t even know yet what she truly is.”

“Oh, God. If they found that out…” Shade didn’t even want to think about that. What would they do to her if they found out she’d transformed into a brownie? Death might be a kinder fate.

“Shade, we won’t let them harm her.”

Relief at his friend’s words filled him. “So, you’ll go against the council with me?”

Ambrose nodded. “I will go up against Striker. I don’t believe we know everything, but I do know that he has a vendetta against us both. He must not be allowed to wield this power. I will protect Lily for you and also because she should not die because of the greed and pride of one  angel.”

“Do you know who they’ve sent?”

The other man shook his head. “No, but Striker will send them.”

“Shit. That fucker is going to have her killed because he wants to get at us. She doesn’t know anything she shouldn’t because she’s a supernatural.”

“But they don’t know that, Shade. For all they know, she’s a human who’s stumbled upon the dust of an angel and  is about to go to the nearest news station with her findings or sign a book deal. They’re trying to head things off before it gets worse.”

“And killing her will stop that?”

“In Striker’s mind, yes. He’s poisoned the rest of the council with his venomous lies. He wants her dead, and unless we can stop it, he’ll get what he wants.”

“Then we have to go to her.”

“Agreed, though it won’t be easy protecting her.”

Shade snorted, ignoring the pain settling hard as a rock in the bottom of his stomach. “I don’t care what we have to do. She will not be harmed even though she doesn’t trust me.” Again, he ignored the pain. “I will do all that is in my power to protect her.”

Ambrose sighed. “I’m sorry you had to lie to her, Shade.”

He closed his eyes, wishing he could turn back time. “Me, too.”

They ran to Ambrose’s car, and Shade prayed they weren’t too late. If she died because of his world, he’d never forgive himself. He’d thought he lost a part of himself when he lost Cora, but his green-eyed beauty just might make him lose the whole of it.

****

“I want her dead! Do you hear me? Dead!” Striker spat at his second in command, Law.

Law, a gray-winged angel with dead eyes, blinked slowly. “You’re telling me this…why?”

Striker balled his fists, rage rising within. “Because it’s your job!”

“Uh, no, not so much,” Azel, his third, said. The angel flexed his black wings, a bored look on his face. “We don’t kill little humans because you can’t get the job done.”

“You do what I say! I’m the leader.” Why didn’t they get that?

“We follow you because of your position in the council,” Law explained. “You’ll get us what we want—the warriors and council dead. Other than that, we’re not your lackeys.”

Striker paced away. “I need this human dead. It’s the only way. With her dead, Shade will fall apart, taking Ambrose with him.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Azel said.

“Of course it does. You’re too stupid to understand.” Shit. Maybe not the best thing to say to two of the deadliest angels out there. These two had been by his side during the Angelic Wars. Their form of torture was legendary, so much so, that Striker had faked their deaths in an elaborate fashion so they could continue their pain play in private. He suppressed a shudder. He
really
didn’t want to think about what type of kink they enjoyed.

Striker gave them a brilliant smile. “I didn’t mean that.”

Please, don’t kill me.

Law took a metallic sculpture—a priceless one, though Striker held his tongue—and bent it with one hand. The scraping sound brought bile to Striker’s mouth. He could imagine his neck being bent in that same contorted position. Not good.

“I hope you didn’t mean that,” Law said, his dead eyes boring holes into Striker.

“I didn’t. I swear. But…um…where was I? Oh, well, Lily, the human, needs to die. The council ordered it after I pushed. With her dead, they will look toward Shade and Ambrose with disdain and maybe even demote them. Then they’ll be easy pickings for you.”

Azel nodded, dumber than a bag of bricks. “Fine. Whatever gets us closer to our goal. I’ll kill the human. Won’t take but ten minutes as long as that ass, Shade, is gone. He is gone, right?”

Striker nodded vigorously. “Yes, I just saw them. She threw him out for good. She’ll be easy.”

Law cocked his head. “So you say.”

Striker spread out his wings and growled. “I’m the leader. You would do well to remember that. Come closer for your reward before we start.” The two looked at each other but did as he commanded. With that, he flicked a switch, and the room filled with an electrical charge that struck the two in front of him, strategically placed on metal sheeting in the floor. An angel must do what he could to remain in power.

The other angels screamed in pain and Striker flicked the switch again. “Do you understand me now?”

The others nodded, blood seeping from their mouths. They were too stupid to realize that they could just walk around the setting and not get hurt again. For that, Striker was grateful.

“Good.”

“I’ll leave now,” Azel said, his face not looking so bored anymore.

Striker grinned. Oh, how he loved when things came together. He barely resisted the urge to clap at his good fortune. He must not look like a fool in front of his men. “Good. Now go.” Azel left, leaving him in the room alone with Law.

“As for you, Law, I want you to watch the council like you have been.” He grimaced at the mention of the elderly busybodies that made up his cohorts in justice. “I want to know their every move. They cannot be allowed to know my plans.”

Law nodded. “They won’t be a problem.”

Good. Plans were in motions. Soon, the girl would be dead, then the warriors. Then he’d be in power. It was all he’d ever hoped to have in his life.

Chapter 18

Lily scrubbed the non-existent stain on her kitchen floors, pretending the tears in her eyes came from the ammonia and not the pain in her heart. How stupid could a girl get? She’d slept with a man she barely knew, and she was surprised that things didn’t work out?

She wrung out the sponge and set it on the other side of the bucket. Her body felt like it had gone through a weeklong bender, and she hadn’t even had the luxury of drinking.

She really needed to get over this pity-party, but she deserved at least a few more hours of it. She had almost called her friends, but she couldn’t. Faith would say, “I told you so” then go kick his ass, and the others would hug her, bring ice cream, and man bash. Lily wasn’t quite there yet.

She drained the bucket, cleaned the sink and removed her gloves. She grabbed some milk and chocolate and then walked with labored steps to the couch. Sinking into the cushions, she closed her eyes. She’d been craving milk like crazy, but that was most likely due to her new genetics. That was at least something healthy. Who knew what else would manifest itself as she learned what it meant to be a brownie?

Cold crept along her skin. Shade had left.

She couldn’t really believe it. She felt numb, as if he’d taken an important part of her when he’d left. No—when she’d made him leave.

Yes, she’d told him, in no uncertain terms, to walk out that door, but part of her had hoped he’d stay.

God, she was a glutton for punishment.

What was all that talk of true halves? For a moment, she’d felt a sense of wholeness when he’d mention it. Then the truth of his deceit had tightened like a noose, and anything warm and good had been squelched.

God, she missed him, and she hated that she did.

Another part of her hated that she hated that she missed him.

A vicious cycle that made her head hurt. A knock at the door startled her. Who could that be? Her heart thudded as a sense of…something washed over her, as if the air had become heavy and charged around her like a sense of danger. Her body turned gold, and her head hurt at the thought of the oncoming threat. How she knew it was a threat, she didn’t know. She didn’t want to open that door.

“Lily, open the door, dear.” A growly voice she didn’t recognize penetrated the door, and Lily stood up.

Where could she hide? Did she have enough time to make it out the window? She didn’t know, but she needed to get out of there, now.

The door crashed open, splinters spraying around the room, and a chunk of wood slicing her cheek. She winced at the pain and scrambled backward.

An angel walked through, dark black wings unfurled behind him.

Her pulse thudded in her throat.

Shade?

No that didn’t make sense. She may not trust him, but she never felt like this around him, not even now.

The man looked up, revealing charcoal black eyes, and a snarl on his face. “Hello, dear. Sorry about the mess. You should have opened the fucking door.”

Okay, not Shade.

Lily picked up the nearest weapon , the fireplace poker, and held it in front of her.

Right, like a little metal stick she had no idea how to use could protect her against a who-knew-how-old scary angel with black wings.

She gulped. “What do you want?” Better than nothing.

“It’s not a question of what I want, but what I’m going to do.”

That didn’t sound ominous at all. Damn, the door was the only way out. He had her cornered. Why didn’t these stupid new brownie powers help at all? No, she could only turn gold and apparently know when something was dangerous. Like that could help right now.

“You need to go now,” She said.

“No, I don’t think so.” He smiled, and her body froze, a shudder running over her skin.

This was it. She was going to die, and her house was a mess. Right, because that was the most important thing right now. He moved forward, and she brandished the poker. In one swoop, he took it from her hand and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a crash. She winced, and he growled. Heart pounding, she made a move to run. He grabbed her by the upper arms and shook her. Her head slammed back and forth, and she kicked him in the thigh.

“Fuck, bitch.”

She wouldn’t go down easy. Twisting and screaming, praying her neighbors would hear, she tried to break free. His hands dug into her arms, and she screamed again.
God, it hurt.
He threw her across the room, her body landing on her glass tabletop that shattered. Shards of glass punctured her skin, sending a feeling of fire through her veins. Tears slid down her cheeks, and she struggled to rise. Her hands crushed into glass, the pieces digging deeper into her skin. She had to get away. If only she could crawl to the doorway…

He pulled her by her hair and dragged her back. A sob clogged her throat as blood seeped down her arms and legs. A deeper cut in her side scared her to death. Oh, God, what had been cut?

Suddenly, she fell back, her head slammed into the floor as the angel let go over her hair.

She heard another crash, a curse, and a groan. She forced open her eyes—when had she closed them? The metallic taste of blood coated her tongue, and she rolled to her side, placing her other hand against her side to control the bleeding.

Oh, God. It was so much blood.

She looked over toward her attacker and let her tears fall harder.