Her Black Wings (The Dark Amulet Series Book 1) (16 page)

CHAPTER

FORTY-THREE

Amalya

Genevieve?

Amalya rushed through the hordes of club goers, shoving women and men left and right. An unloading elevator or a spiral staircase stood in the way of her getting upstairs, both policed by a large bouncer. She needed to get up there. Now. She ran for the stairs, jumped over the velvet rope, grabbed the handrail, and made it up four risers until she was caught by the arm. A tight grip on the railing kept her from falling down.

“Let me go!” she yelled, jerking backward.

“Uh uh. You need VIP status.”

Shit!
He wasn’t letting her up there. Desperate, she yanked down the tunic exposing her breasts. Stunned by the creamy white fullness, the bouncer eased his hold.

“All right, access
gran
-ted.”

By the time she reached the top she was sweating. She swallowed hard. Purple velvet couches and shiny metal coffee tables lined the walls of the exclusive section. A bar sat in the middle. Genevieve was still standing by the glass wall overlooking the dance floor below.

Genevieve…mule…

Amalya plowed through the small crowd, the dirty looks people gave her not registering. “Genie!”

Her back was toward Amalya. She didn’t turn around.

“Genevieve!” Amalya waved her hands frantically.

A man tapped the woman on the shoulder. She turned. Her eyes widened.

Amalya stopped short. Genevieve wore her hair differently from how she remembered. Her chin also wasn’t quite the same. But from a distance…

“Genie?” Amalya’s brow crinkled. Her heart sank.

“No…I’m not.” The woman shook her head.

Amalya’s world changed its axis point. Her mouth dried up. Realization kicked in. This wasn’t her sister. How could it be? She would be forty-five years old now. This girl appeared to be about her age. Tears leaked, hitting her chest.

“I’m, s-sorry. I thought you were s-someone else.” Her shoulders caved in and she started to turn away. The giggling at Amalya’s expense, killed her.

“Wait. I get this all the time. My mom’s name is Genevieve.”

What?

“Do you know her?” the girl asked. “Genevieve Stevens?”

“Oh…” Amalya couldn’t form words, so she nodded.

“Yeah, I’m Haz—”

“Hazel.” Amalya wanted to tell her niece everything, starting with,
I’m the aunt you never met. I died before ever laying eyes on you.

Amalya had spoken to her sister the same day as her murder. Genevieve told her she had gotten married and had a daughter, she’d named after their great-aunt. The same one the Tainted amulet came from.

“That’s right. How do you know my mom? Never mind, don’t tell me. You’re one of her former students.”

“Your mom let’s her students call her Genevieve?” the guy who’d gotten her attention earlier butted in.

“My mom is everyone’s favorite teacher. She tells everyone to call her that.” Hazel chuckled.
“Do you want me to give her a message or anything?”

Amalya’s bottom lip quivered. “Uh, um…jus-just tell her I’m okay.”

Hazel looked befuddled. “I can do that. What’s your name?”

“Amalya.”

Hazel smiled. “My mom had a sister named Amalya.”

I know.

CHAPTER

FORTY-FOUR

Amalya

Amalya hung her head as she walked down the spiral staircase. The bouncer she’d flashed unhooked the rope and stepped aside. He grinned at her, but she didn’t look up.

Searching the length of the bar, she hoped to find her new friend, Tanner. He was gone, and so was the annoying bartender. She sighed. Bar night turned into a reality check. She found the restrooms and went into a stall. Picturing Elliott’s apartment, she
poofed
. The cabinet doors she’d left open had been closed. She called to him but there was no answer.

Elliott was out, although someone had been home. She walked back to the bedroom, stripped bare, and climbed into bed. Grabbing a pillow from his side, she inhaled. The angel’s scent lingered on the case. Masculine but not heavy. Perfect.

Poofing
was more involved than just thinking about someone or something. It involved a sort of meditation to achieve. She allowed herself to picture his eyes. When he looked at her, it was as if he could see her soul. This frightened and excited her at the same time. Her body curled around the pillow.

The bedroom door creaked open. Elliott stood in between the jambs. She was glad to see him. The blankets were only covering her up to the hips. Her upper body was partially shielded by the pillow.

“Hi,” she said softly.

“Hey.”

He shuffled toward the bed, then the mattress depressed.

“I have something for you,” he said.

“Yay,” she whispered.

Several pairs of underwear were laid out. Nothing with fancy lace or animal skin prints, just plain white cotton.

“Thanks.”

He chuckled. “Damn, Amalya. What happened at Eternity?”

Her eyes widened for a moment. “How did you know I went there?”

“I’m an angel. It’s my job as a Redeemer to look after you until…”

“Until?”

Elliott stared straight ahead at the wall. “Until, I don’t
have
to anymore.”

Have to? Nice.

“Whatever. You can be such an ass.”

He groaned and rubbed his temples. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

She rolled onto her back looking away from him, not caring her breasts were exposed. The energy required for modesty was gone. Not that she had much to begin with.

“Are you asking because you don’t know what happened or do you just want me to tell you because you’re being irritating?”

The bed jostled, then she heard a sharp intake of breath. Amalya glanced at him. His focus centered on her tits. She didn’t mind. The distraction was welcomed.

He swallowed. Licked his lips. “Um, ah, oh God…you, Amalya, please…”

The giggle from her was an automatic response.

“That’s not funny. You know I…want—”

Amalya kicked the sheets off her body.

“Shhhit,” he said.

Within seconds, his body hovered over hers. His hands punched into the mattress on either side of her, his hard length straining the front of his jeans. His white hair slipped forward from his shoulders, brushing her sensitive skin. Dipping his head down, he kissed the space between her breasts. Amalya moaned. No part of her wasn’t in this moment.

Closing his eyes, he licked his lips as if tasting something unexpected, savoring the favor. He kissed her neck, flicking his tongue over the cords.

Oh yes.

She writhed beneath him, her skin flushed, breathing heavy.

Too many clothes were in the way. She tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head. He stood up on his knees and tossed it aside. She watched the muscles in his sculpted body bunch and stretch. A pec twitched.

God, you’re beautiful.

She pulled him back down. Her nipples skated across his chest, his pants rubbed against her core. He traced kisses down her throat, between her breasts, drew her tight beads into his mouth. One, then the other. Their hips moved together, the give and take getting her close to the edge. It wasn’t enough. She wanted all of him.

“Elliot,” she breathed, “touch me.”

His glazed over eyes painted a clear picture.

“Undo my pants,” he groaned.

Grabbing the button fly, she ripped the jeans open. The tip of his cock peeked out of the waistband of his black underwear. She slid a hand inside and stroked the smooth, steely shaft. Closing his eyes, he sucked air in between his teeth.

While moaning, he bit his lower lip. She wanted those lips on hers. Wanted to know what they would feel like as he kissed her.

“Kiss me.”

He lowered his face to hers. She was ready. Her lips were ready. But instead of meeting her request, a kiss landed on her forehead, a deliberate affront.

The truth of why hit in the center of her chest. Choking her.

Taint.

CHAPTER

FORTY-FIVE

Elliott

The expression on Amalya’s face crushed him. All Elliott had to do was press his lips to hers and the look could have been avoided. However, he couldn’t stop the flow of images in his mind of that monster touching her. Kissing her. Being inside her. They ate at him.

When he looked into her eyes, all he could see was the Devil.

He wanted to pound the Demon into the ground. Bash his skull to bits. Watch him heal and do it all over again. And again.

Elliott tried to picture the first time he laid eyes on Amalya. The elegant arch of her wings, her petite curves, her wink when she noticed his untimely erection. The image collapsed as Abaddon pointed a finger at him, laughing at Elliott’s missing wings. Arrogant and self-important. And that prick had had her first.

Elliott growled. He couldn’t be with her. Not like this. He didn’t want to turn making love to her into a grudge match. The jealously had to be dealt with first. If he kissed her on the mouth now there’d be no stopping this train headed for disaster.

With tremendous effort and will-power he pushed himself away from her. Had he had wings, he would’ve batted them until he was hovering over the end of the bed.

Tears filled Amalya’s eyes. His chest hurt. He rubbed the skin over his heart. “Amalya, I’m sorry, I—”

“Well, that’s just great. Glad you’re sorry.” She sat up and hugged a pillow. “I’m a damn reject now. Is that it?”

“No!” He exhaled loudly. “I mean, it’s not like that. I’m not right in the head. I need to figure some things out first.”

“Just forget it.” Finding a pair of panties, she pulled them on. Next the tunic and…stripper heels?

The stilettoes made her legs appear longer. He wanted to kiss every inch. “Where are you going?”

“Why do you care?” She closed her eyes. Concentrated.

Shit.

If it hadn’t been for the Guardian, Tanner, giving him the heads up, he would never have known she’d been at Eternity. Good thing angels had a gathering place to trade information and meditate.

“Wait, let me explain.”

“I don’t want to hear it. I have more important people to see and
do
.” She disappeared.

CHAPTER

FORTY-SIX

Elliott

Elliott stared at the empty space Amalya had left behind. “Jo!” He needed the angel. “Joelle!”

“Stop your bellyaching, will ya? What’d ‘ya want?” Joelle lounged on the bed, wings against the headboard, feet crossed at the ankles.

“I need to fly, man. I’m dying here.”

Glancing at the ceiling, Joelle said, “You’re not
dying
. Quit being so dramatic.” He had a way of putting everything into perspective.

Elliott, of course, wasn’t dying. Physically he felt the same as he did before Hell, except lighter, due to a set of missing wings. Psychologically? Where did he start? A giant hole took up most of what was left of his heart. Taint essence, as much as he tried to deny it, filled his mind with negative emotions. Jealousy. Hatred. Revenge. Joelle had been correct. These feelings weren’t him. Elliott blinked slowly.

“Uh oh, I know that look. All right let’s get out of here. We’ll fly.” Joelle got off the bed and motioned for Elliott to step on one of his feet. The winged angel wrapped his muscular arms around his old friend. “Hold on, asshole.”

Joelle’s wings flapped. The ceiling of the top floor apartment dissolved, revealing the night sky. With their acute senses, brilliantly lit stars, nebulas, and arms of the Milky Way felt close enough to touch yet were millions of light years out of reach. The darkened sky looked lighter and more colorful to them than to humans.

Elliott closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
Ahhh.

Joelle flew straight up. Higher and higher they climbed until the atmosphere thinned. Then he dove down in wide, looping circles, alternating between beating his wings and gliding on the air currents.

Flight had been what Elliott was made for. He had had wings.

The wingless angel let go and allowed his friend to carry him, rotating in his arms so his back was to Joelle’s front and Elliott could imagine the other angel’s wings being his own. He was flying once again. Free. They skimmed rooftops, buzzed cell towers. A smile crept onto his face as the sun, just below the horizon, began to lighten the skies.

“I’m getting tired carting your ass around!” Joelle yelled over the wind.

“Nooo, don’t stop. We’re just getting start—”

Joelle opened his arms.

“Shiiiiiiit!” Elliott tumbled through the air, rolling ass over feet, plummeting toward the Earth.

Joelle dove head first alongside him. “Stick your arms out! Steady yourself!”

Elliott barely heard what his friend instructed, even with excellent hearing. He pictured skydivers with their arms and legs out like a star, palms down, and their legs bent at the knees. He tried to do the same, but it wasn’t quite keeping him stable. He tried arching his back to see if that would help and…yes, it worked. Hair blew straight up out of his eyes. Elliott floated on the air. It felt much like a cushion, only windy. Like he was strapped to the roof of a car going a hundred miles an hour. He used his arms to turn himself around a few times.

The ground was coming up fast. Although he couldn’t see Joelle anymore he wasn’t concerned; he trusted him. A flock of large birds passed by him. Elliott thought he heard Joelle grunt.

Birds squawked. Honked. Two birds dropped like a rock. Then Joelle somersaulted past Elliott. Wings wrapped around his torso awkwardly.

Elliott made himself into a torpedo. Nose-diving after him. Joelle unsuccessfully struggled against the wind shear, spinning out of control. His friend’s panic was more evident every foot closer to smacking the Earth they came. Teleporting couldn’t be achieved due to Joelle’s overwhelming terror. Below them was farmland—corn rows and pastures of dairy cows. Grass was softer than concrete right?

Oh God. Not at these speeds.

Elliott caught a glimpse of Joelle’s face. He could’ve sworn the guy mouthed “sorry.”

Willing himself to go faster, Elliott made himself more rigid, hoping this would make him somehow a little bit more aerodynamic. It must have worked. Joelle was now within arms-length. He reached out with a hand and caught one of Joelle’s pant legs. Elliott was able to steady him just enough for Joelle to get his wings out. However, the ground was too close now. They were going to crash. Right into a cornfield.