Kiss of Temptation: A Deadly Angels Book (9 page)

Ivak shocked her by shaking his head fiercely. “This is no place for a woman like Miss Sonnier. Except for visiting her brother, I do not want her involved with the project.”

So much for soul mate!
“Hey, just wait a minute here,” she said.

But Ivak ignored her and told Warden Benton, “That’s a deal breaker for me.”

The warden agreed, although he clearly didn’t like Ivak dictating terms to him.

“What’s that all about?” her brother whispered to her.

“I have no idea,” she said, “but I’m going to find out.”

As everyone proceeded to leave the arena area, Ivak held her back. “We need to talk.”

“Tell me about it, jerk. Besides, I’ve already had one of your talks, and there wasn’t much speaking involved.”

He grinned. The man had a death wish. But then when he saw she was about to walk away, he said, “I can explain.”

“I doubt it.”

“Gabrielle. Dearling.”

“Cut the bullshit. What do you hope to accomplish with those hokey endearments? I am not your soul mate. I’m not even your friend. I am not your anything.”

His back straightened and he seemed to grit his teeth before saying, “You are mine. Well, probably mine. That is yet to be determined. In the meantime, I protect those under my shield.”

“Yeah, well, you know where you can shove your shield.” Fuming with anger, she decided she couldn’t handle this right now. Swiveling on her heels, she began to stomp away.

She heard Tante Lulu chuckle and advise Ivak, “Honey is sweet, but don’t lick it off a briar.”

“Not to worry. I have a leathery tongue.” Ivak laughed and called out something she never expected the brute to say.

“I can save him.”

Gabrielle halted and turned slowly.

Ivak hadn’t moved an inch. His arms were folded over his chest. He was angry, too.

“What . . . did . . . you . . . say?”

“I can save your brother.”

Abnormal, paranormal, same thing . . .

It was hours before Ivak was able to escape to his office and ask that Leroy Sonnier be sent to him for “counseling.”

First, he had to submit to one of the warden’s lectures. His attire. His attitude. His failure to comply with rules. His familiarity with visitors. His rudeness to visitors. Even his frickin’ hair. Blather, blather, blather!

After that, Ivak held more auditions for the talent show. First up was a seventy-year-old lifer who yodeled. Enough said! Things went downhill from there, especially when several of the contestants got into an argument over who had more talent and ended up brawling. Two bloody noses and a goose egg later, Ivak was off to talk with a man in hospice who wanted to repent and discuss the afterlife with Ivak. Even though Ivak didn’t feel qualified to do that type of counseling, he could not rebuff the man, and in the end he felt as if the man was more at peace.

Finally, he was back in his office finishing off a Coke and a stale turkey sandwich when Leroy Sonnier arrived. One glance at the inmate’s surly expression, and Ivak knew the sin taint was already working in him. Ever since Leroy had been with Ivak and his sister and the LeDeuxs several hours ago, the taint had grown.

He was probably resenting Ivak’s calling him to his office. An invitation by any of the prison employees to a convict was tantamount to an order by the powers-that-be, no questions asked. Leroy could not have declined coming if he’d wanted to, which he obviously hadn’t.

Ivak motioned for Leroy to sit while he went over and locked the door, closing it on the guard who’d accompanied Leroy. The click of the lock drew arched brows from Leroy.

Then they both spoke at the same time.

“Stay away from my sister.”

“You have a problem, Leroy.”

“I’m doing hard time, dickhead. Yeah, I have a problem. Don’t you think I know that by now?”

“If I were you, I’d shut up and listen. You have problems way bigger than being in prison.”

That seemed to get Leroy’s attention.

Ivak pulled a folding chair over and sat opposite Leroy. “I’m not really a minister,” he started. The security camera could see, but not hear them. A concession given for counselor privilege, rather like a confessional.

“No shit!”

“I’m something else.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re a Viking. Everyone around here has heard your ‘I am a Viking’ crap.”

Ivak inhaled and exhaled for patience. “I am a sort of angel sent here to help young men like you.”

Leroy laughed. “Sort of?”

“I’m a vampire angel. A vangel.”

Leroy’s eyes, which were very much like Gabrielle’s, he realized, went wide before he snorted his disbelief. “Dracula with wings? Give me a break!”

“I prefer to focus on my angel side.”

“Sonofabitch! You’re serious, aren’t you? Man, you’re weirder than I thought. I mean it. Stay away from my sister.”

First things first. He would discuss Leroy’s sister with him later. Before that, the stubborn lout had to be convinced that Ivak was who, or what, he claimed to be.

Ivak stood and hissed. With his back to the camera, he opened his mouth to show his elongating fangs. Then, he concentrated on his back, hoping that the billowy blue wings would emerge but not show on camera.

Leroy jumped out of his chair and backed up against the wall. “Jesus F. Christ!”

“I am not Him, just one of His worker bees. Now sit down and listen to what I have to tell you.”

Visibly shaking and watching Ivak guardedly as if a vampire, meaning him, might pounce on him, Leroy sat back down. Ivak did, too, and could feel his teeth and wings retracting.

“Oh my God! You have fuckin’ fangs. Holy hell, man! If you’re really an angel, that must mean you could pluck me out of this place, just like that”—he snapped his fingers for emphasis—“and land me somewhere far away, like Costa Rica.”

“I could,” Ivak said, “but I won’t.”

Leroy’s shoulders slumped.

“Oh, I intend to get you out of here, God willing and you keeping your ass out of trouble, but it will be through normal channels. Well, not
normal
normal. The very fact that I’m slightly paranormal means I can cut corners.”

Leroy shook his head with disbelief. “Slightly? Wings and fangs are a hell of a lot more than slightly abnormal.”

Ivak had said
para
, not
ab
, but he wasn’t going to argue semantics right now. “Listen, there’s an immediate problem that we have to address before we can do anything else. I have to remove the sin taint from you.”

“The what?”

“You have been infected with a demonic sin taint.”

At first, Leroy just laughed. When he saw that Ivak was serious, he said, “Uh-oh! I don’t like the sound of that.”

Ivak explained Lucipires and how the demon vampires preyed on those in a state of sin, compelling them to do some evil, then draining them dry before they had a chance to repent.

“Are you saying one of these creatures bit me, and that I was going to end up dead and on the fast track to some kind of hell if he’d succeeded? Like that very day.”

“That’s about it in a nutshell. After you’d committed the mortal sin you’d been contemplating.”

Leroy recoiled. “No way! No fucking way!”

“Believe me. Way! Because the Lucie only fanged you slightly, the process wasn’t completed, but you’re already becoming more compelled to sin.”

“Just because I refused to be in your stupid show doesn’t mean I was bitten by some demon.”

“I can smell the sin taint on you. Lemony.”

Leroy sniffed his armpit. “No lemons here.”

“This is not a joke.”

“Okay. I’ll play. What will happen if I do nothing?”

“You’ll murder someone, and seal your fate inside this hellhole . . .”

“I don’t need a demon fanging to do that,” Leroy scoffed.

“ . . . or you’ll kill someone, a Lucie will complete its fanging on you, and you’ll end up in a place far, far worse than Angola.”

“I’m finding all this impossible to believe. Are there vangels and Lucies all over the prison grounds?”

Ivak shook his head. “I’m the only vangel here. So far. But there are at least a few Lucies inside the fences and probably more in the perimeter. I killed one this afternoon. That was the smell you all noticed when I came back to the rodeo grounds.”

“Why are you telling me this? Aren’t you afraid I’ll squeal to gain points with the warden? Or contact news media.”

“First of all, no one would believe you. Second, you have more to gain by getting on my good side. Third, I could erase your memory of what I’ve just told you if I wanted to.”

“If I refuse, will you force me?”

Ivak shook his head. “It must be your choice.”

“If I refuse, will you report me to the warden for insubordination or some such shit? That’s all I need at this point . . . a write-up.”

Ivak shook his head again. “Do you think I would want the warden to know my true identity?”

Leroy still looked skeptical and angry, but he conceded, “What have I got to lose? Okay, what do I have to do?”

“You need to let me bite you and drain some blood. Just a small amount since your sin taint isn’t that strong. It won’t hurt, and you’ll feel better immediately afterward.”

Leroy nodded tentatively.

“Arm or neck?” Ivak asked, his fangs already out.

Leroy extended an arm and closed his eyes tightly, like a little kid getting a shot.

Later, after more explanations, the expression of Leroy’s face was one of shock at all he’d learned in the past half hour. “I don’t feel any different,” he said. “I expected to be suddenly holier-than-thou.”

“That’s not the way it works. Believe me, you
are
different.”

“I still don’t want you near my sister,” Leroy said. “In fact, I especially don’t want you and your friggin’ fangs near my sister now.”

“I have to be near Gabrielle,” Ivak insisted. “She is living across the street from a Lucie hangout.”

“Whaaat? Oh shit! Oh damn!” He put his face in his hands. When he looked up, he said, “I feel so helpless in here.”

“You are not to worry, I will take care of your sister.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I am fairly certain”—he shuddered with distaste—“that she is my soul mate.”

Seven

Her next-door neighbors are WHAT? . . .

G
abrielle was back in her small apartment in New Orleans.

She’d showered, conditioned her hair, slathered lotion all over her body, slipped on her favorite sky-blue silk pajamas, and was about to put a frozen Mexican dinner into the microwave. Afterward, she planned to fall into her bed with exhaustion. Some Friday night for a single girl! The usual for her.

She was carrying her dinner and a glass of white wine into the living room where the TV was already set to the local news station. Just then, she glanced at the French doors leading to her second floor balcony, and screamed.

“Shh!” Ivak said, opening the door and stepping inside. He took the glass and dish out of her hand, sniffing at both before setting them on a low table before the couch.

“You can’t come in here! How did you get in? That door was locked. It’s always locked.”

He ignored her questions and remarked, “I love Mexican food. Do you have more?”

“I’ve got mace, that’s what I’ve got.”

“Good. You never know when you might have an intruder.”

“
You’re
an intruder.”

“I am?”

“I could have you arrested for stalking me.”

“Me? A stalker?” He appeared offended at her characterization, but then he smiled. “Ah, I see. You are jesting.”

She crossed her eyes with frustration.

Just then, his stomach growled.

He shrugged. “I should probably eat before we discuss your willful behavior.”

“I . . . I . . .” she stuttered. She should tell him to get lost, but she wasn’t really frightened by him, and she did have a few choice things she’d like to say to the lout. A lout who was, incidentally, too good-looking to live. His attire tonight was as odd as it had been earlier today, but in a different way. A black T-shirt was tucked into black jeans that were tucked into ankle-high boots. That was normal enough, but over it he wore a long black cape with epaulets shaped like silver wings. On the sometimes bizarre streets of the French Quarter, he wouldn’t stand out. Even with his dark blond hair lying loose to his shoulders, except for the two thin braids on either side of his face intertwined with crystal beads. Still . . .

What kind of man stood in front of a mirror and braided his hair with beads?

One who knew he was a hottie, that’s who.

She turned on her fluffy slippers and went back into the kitchen to get more food and wine. When she returned, she noticed he was halfway through her meal, and the glass was drained. Instead of sitting down beside him, or hospitably offering him a refill, she folded herself onto an upholstered chair and placed the second plate on her lap.

He grinned, as if he understood her mood.

“The only reason I’m not calling the police is because you said you can save Leroy.”

“I can.”

An inexplicable joy overcame her, as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Why she should trust his words, she wasn’t sure. Maybe because she just wanted to so badly.

“Leroy and I came to an understanding this afternoon,” he said.

She chewed on her burrito and washed it down with a sip of the cool wine. She studied him before remarking, “You did?”

He nodded. “You look beautiful tonight, Gabrielle.”

“Pfff!” She knew exactly how she looked. Wet hair flat against her head and midway down her back. No makeup to cover the slight sunburn she’d gotten outdoors at the prison today. Fortunately, the swelling had gone down on her mouth. And her loose PJs did nothing to enhance her figure. “Save the BS line. I’m not in the market.”

“Of course you are not in the market. You are mine.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Well, you are
probably
mine.”

“Forget probably. I am not, not, not yours. In any way, shape, or form. Did I make that clear enough?”

“I am not too happy about having a soul mate at this stage of my life, either, but it is what it is. I sensed it the moment I first set eyes on you.” He shrugged.

“Oh, that was flattering.”

“Surely you need no convincing that there is a fiery attraction between us. Holy clouds! That kiss today about melted my bones and turned my cock into molten metal.”

A few of my body parts melted, too.
“Flattery will get you nowhere. Jeesh! Hasn’t any woman ever told you that crudity is not attractive?”

He bristled. “Women have never complained. You will understand once we have coupled.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa!

“If we couple, that is.”

That’s better.
If
is a word I can live with.

“I have been celibate for many years now . . .”

Probably not as long as I have.

“ . . . and I’m not sure how Mike is going to feel about my breaking that record. Of course, we could always have near-sex. My brother Trond invented that, but I doubt it would be satisfying. We could try.” He raised hopeful eyes to her.

“You’re an idiot.”

“That I am.” He winked at her.

“You’re talking nonsense.”

“It’s just that I’m nervous. I never had a soul mate before.”

“We are not soul mates.”

“How can you tell?” he asked hopefully.

She became more and more puzzled with each of his statements. Oh, not the stuff about the kiss and arousal. That she understood too perfectly. She homed in on the least important thing. “You have a brother?”

“Hah! I have six brothers, and a more bothersome, intrusive, full-of-themselves lot there never was.”

Someone else is full of himself, too, if you ask me.
But then her eyes widened as she considered everything he’d said.
Six brothers!
She had more than enough to handle with one. “Who is Mike?”

“My . . . uh, boss.”

“You have a boss who has authority over your personal life?”

“For my sins, yes.” He fluttered ridiculously long lashes at her.

“Is your boss a minister, too?”

A cute blush tinted his cheeks before he confessed, “I’m not really an ordained minister.”

Big surprise, there. “Tell me about your meeting with my brother.”

“He has agreed to avoid trouble and to work with me on the talent show.”

Well, that was good news. “Does he know you’re here?”

“Yes. I have his blessing.”

For what? No, I’m not going to ask that. I’m afraid what he might answer.

“Come over here.” He motioned for her to sit beside him on the couch.

She shook her head. “I’m comfortable right here.” Although she probably didn’t look comfortable balancing the dish on her knees, with a fork in one hand and a wineglass in the other.

“I can smell you from here.”

“You say the most outrageous things. Do you deliberately try to shock me?”

“What is outrageous about remarking on your woman scent? That is one of the nice things about females, how they smell. And each one has her own distinctive scent. Not to mention the mating scent.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Come over here. I want to see if you are delicious up close.”

The gurgling noise that came from her throat was probably due to wine going down the wrong pipe. “You already told me earlier today that I smell like roses and . . . well, something else. Now you’re talking about tasting. Honestly, you go too far.”

“Roses and musk, that is what I told you,” he said. “No, this is a different scent.” He raised his nose and made an exaggerated show of sniffing the air. “Almonds?”

“That’s my body lotion.”

“Ah,” he said, and smiled.

“What does that smile mean?”

“ ’Tis the way of women throughout time. To anoint their bodies afore the mating.”

Mating? First coupling, now mating. What next?
“You . . . you . . . you,” she sputtered. “It’s just body lotion. I got sunburned today.”

“If you say so, dearling.”

She bared her teeth at him.

“You have very nice teeth.”

She crossed her eyes.

“If you’re done eating, you should go pack a bag.”

“For what?”

“I’m taking you away from here. It is too dangerous.”

The audacity of the man turned her speechless for a moment.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. She almost never got company since she had almost no social life. It could be someone from Second Chances, though. She put her plate and glass on the floor, but Ivak had already risen and was peeping through the security hole in her door. “Oh shit!” he said.

Without asking her permission, he opened the door to admit two very large men dressed in black jeans and T-shirts, and what else? Long cloaks with silver winged epaulets, of course.

Her apartment was small at the best of times, but with three six-foot-four men built like tanks, well, a person could get claustrophobic.

“These are my brothers—” Ivak started to say.

“No kidding! Which one invented near-sex?”

The two brothers looked at each other, then at Ivak, then at her, before bursting out with laughter.

“Neither,” Ivak said, giving her a telling frown at her disclosing something private he’d told her. “Gabrielle Sonnier, these are my brothers Harek and Sigurd. Harek is a computer genius, and Sigurd is a physician.”

Surprised, Gabrielle reached out and shook both their hands. Too late, she realized that she was still wearing her PJs, and nonrevealing as they were, the situation must look intimate. “We were just having dinner,” she stumbled.

“And what’s for dessert?” Sigurd mumbled, but she heard him and scowled.

He just winked at her.

Without being asked, the brothers removed their cloaks, and Ivak did, too, belatedly. They hung them carefully on the coatrack near the door. Now Gabrielle understood why they wore them. There was enough weapon power under them to take down the Taliban. Swords, knives, guns, throwing stars, and other things she couldn’t identify. She arched her brows at Ivak.

“We like to be prepared,” he said with a shrug.

“For what? World War III?”

“Ah, the wench has a bite to her tongue,” the one named Harek remarked with a wink of appreciation at Ivak. As if Ivak had done something right.

“Wench? Listen, buster—” But the three men had opened the French doors and were out on her balcony, gazing diagonally across the street at the Anguish restaurant. In fact, one of them, Sigurd, had some fancy kind of binoculars raised.

“Bad! Very bad!” Sigurd concluded.

“I see at least two haakai, a couple mungs, and a bunch of imps and hordlings,” Harek said. He was the one looking through the binoculars now. “No sighting of Dominique, though. She’s probably in her dungeon. But wait, they don’t have basements in New Orleans. Her torture chambers must be above stairs.”

“Torture chambers?” Gabrielle gasped out.

“Have there ever been any sightings of snakes loose on your street, Gabrielle?” Ivak turned to ask her.

She was just inside the door. “Actually, yes. There was a cobra out on the sidewalk last week. The police figured it was a pet that got away from its owner.” Gabrielle hated snakes, and she shivered with revulsion.

As the three came back in and plopped themselves down, tightly, onto her couch, each elbowing the other to make room, Harek said, “You were right, Ivak. This would make a good place for us to set up a stakeout. From here, we can easily track Dominique’s comings and goings. I could have a dozen vangels here by morning.”

“Wait just a frickin’ minute,” Gabrielle said. “This is my apartment, and you aren’t moving anyone in here. I have one bed, and I’m going to be the only one in it.”

Harek and Sigurd looked to Ivak, who was in the center.

“I didn’t get a chance to explain it to her yet. I’d just told her to pack a bag when you knocked.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Explain what?”

“It’s too dangerous for you to stay here. I’m taking you to Tante Lulu’s house as a temporary solution. She’s already agreed to take you in. In fact, she said you can help her embroider some pillowcases for your hope chest, whatever that is.”

“Aaarrgh! I don’t think so!”

“Uh, I think Sig and I will go down to that pizza shop on the corner. We’ll be back in an hour,” Harek told Ivak.

Now that they were alone, Gabrielle turned on Ivak. “How dare you speak to anyone on my behalf? I’ve lived here for two years. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“You stubborn woman! Can you not be biddable without proof? No? So be it.” He stood and grabbed her hand, pulled her out the door and down the steps to the street door, across Dumaine, through an alley that ran beside the Anguish restaurant, then around to a back courtyard. They had moved so fast that Gabrielle could barely comprehend what had happened. One moment they were in her apartment, the next moment she was standing in some bougainvillea bushes behind the Anguish restaurant courtyard in her PJs and fluffy slippers.

She shrugged away Ivak’s arm when he attempted to pull her closer. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Just watch,” he whispered, “and keep quiet.”

She turned to look where Ivak was pointing and gasped. He immediately put a hand over her mouth and held her tightly in front of him, facing forward. Luckily, no one seemed to have heard her.

There were at least a dozen people . . . or creatures—she wasn’t sure what they were—moving about the courtyard and entering the building by way of stairs leading up not to the first floor, where the restaurant was located, but to a wide gallery and through big sliding metal doors on the second floor. They seemed to be carrying boxes inside, and bringing large trash bags outside. Some of them were extremely tall and covered with slimy scales, and they had tails. Tails! And red, glowing eyes. And, oh good Lord, fangs? Other smaller creatures were scurrying around creating chaos until one of the larger creatures swatted them into order.

But then she saw the most alarming thing. Several of the creatures, before her very eyes, morphed into regular people. A man and a woman, him dressed in what could be a hand-tailored suit with a red power tie and mirror-shined black wingtips, and her in a little black dress with stiletto heels and enough diamonds to support a small country. They were beautiful.