Of Alliance and Rebellion (25 page)

After a tense silence with her sword poised, she asked, “You will never harm him?” There was no doubt as to whom she referenced, and she almost couldn’t believe the question was coming out of her mouth. It seemed she truly intended to let him go if he answered favorably.

She could feel him swallow beneath her now slack grip on his neck. “I give my vow,” he rasped past the vocal cords she had no doubt damaged.

As she hesitated still, the bright golden glow of Remiel’s threat faded. Her eyes widened as it reduced to nothing. She had no real reason to slay him now; he was no longer a problem. She released him and stepped back.

He collapsed to his hands and knees, sucking in great, wracking breaths. His wings heaved with the effort.

“Leave now,” she said to his back, “and never again return.”

He raised his head and looked up at her through eyes that appeared tortured by her words. Anahita frowned, but before she could contemplate his unlikely reaction further, Remiel vanished.

Anahita’s shoulders relaxed, and the various aches and pains of battle rushed in as adrenaline seeped away. Her wings pained her the most, and she stretched them with a groan, suddenly more tired than she had ever been in her existence.

“Um ... wow.”

The words came from behind her, and she whipped around, sword raised, only to find her Ward and Oliver standing in the doorway to the apartment.

“You kicked ass,” Oliver said. “That was seriously hot.”

He smiled the smile she had learned was typical for him, but she could see faint lines of pain around his eyes. As she looked at him, she had no desire—no Compulsion—to end him. Her Warrior side was beaten into submission.

Her eyes shifted to Max, and every fiber of her being screamed
Protect
!

His eyes were focused on her. “You’re hurt?” he asked in his rumbling voice.

She quickly took in his form. No part of him gleamed brighter gold than any other. The spot on his neck had vanished. Jayden must have applied the fruit to heal it. She relaxed completely. “But you are not,” she said.

He took a step toward her while saying, “Ana—”

She raised her hand to stop him, and his words cut off. He had been right: Remiel was leading a rebel band of angels. And because she had been so focused on her own dream of becoming a Warrior, she had almost allowed her Ward to be harmed.

It was unforgivable. Unacceptable.

Repeatable.

She had to focus. Her Ward needed to become her primary objective, his protection her life.

As Max continued to talk to her in urgent tones, she closed her eyes and her Guardian Compulsion surged to the forefront of everything. She felt the rest of the world fading away until all that was left was the driving need to protect.

When she opened her eyes again, she felt it taking hold while at the same time feeling everything that made her
her
slip away.

And she let it go.

Max was in mourning.

As he trudged down the hallway to the quarters he now shared with the angel who was always with him and at the same time wasn’t, he rubbed his palm over the eternal ache in his chest. Before, if he’d ever dared to think about living with her, it had never been under these circumstances: with him sleeping in a cold bed and her standing even more coldly by, watching over him with an expressionless face.

It had been several weeks—Six? No, eight—since she had gone into her Guardian shell. He flopped face down on the bed and, out of habit, tried to discern some of the lily scent that had evaporated from the sheets after about three weeks. “Goddamn it, Ana,” he muttered. Though she hadn’t spoken to him since he’d witnessed her beating that uppity angel’s ass, he could still feel her every moment of every day. For example, he knew that right now she was standing against the wall by the bedroom door—a location that allowed her to watch both him and the main door to the apartment for any threats to his safety. It was where she always stood, her eyes watching him indifferently while he burned away inside with the need to touch her. To fucking
talk
to her.

The hell of it was, the eight weeks that had passed in tense, ever-present silence had been just long enough for him to fully comprehend what he’d thrown away with both hands. Just long enough for him to fall flat on his face into the shithouse that was love.

He rolled over with a groan, and threw his forearm over his eyes. After a couple of seconds of ineffectual resistance, he cracked his eyelids a bit and peered at his angel from the shield of his arm.

The sight of her, like always, was an anvil to the gut. Each time he looked at her now, the Knowledge in his eye told him nothing. She was not good. She was not evil. She barely
was
.

One thing that she was, however, was beautiful. She was just as beautiful as she had been when he’d first seen her—with her blond waves tumbling about her shoulders and the body that he had briefly been granted the ultimate boon of enjoying. But she was not his Ana anymore. Her joy, her constant discoveries—hell, even her blue eyes—every defining characteristic that
was Ana
was gone. He missed her so much he was sick with it.

The first week had been easy. She was always with him, and he had been stupid enough to be optimistic, to think that this would be enough. Then Oliver had died for the first time since being stateside. Max had been more devastated than he could have guessed. To make matters worse, as soon as Oliver recovered, he and Luke left the compound. They’d headed for the Middle East to search out Oliver’s mystery woman. It was the first time Max had been without his friends in a decade, and he had so desperately needed a friend to talk to and someone to hold him, that the full magnitude of what he had lost struck him all at once. Ana,
his
Ana, would have taken such good care of him, just as she had that afternoon in the medical wing after his nightmare.

That day, he’d tumbled a little bit into love with an angel that no longer existed, and he’d fallen farther and farther with each painful milestone. Like waking up thrusting into the sheets after dreaming of being inside her, and turning over to find Anahita watching him with a passive face—no reaction at all. Not the slightest hint of lust or desire. Hell, he’d even have taken anger.
Any
reaction. Or discovering after those first few days that the pleasure he’d had to sneak for himself in the shower because it was the only time she couldn’t see him was now going to be the norm and the only way to keep the Impulse pain at bay. And the first time he’d accidentally turned to her and started a conversation without remembering she wouldn’t be talking back until that first awkward stretch of silence after he’d stopped to hear her opinion.

As he watched her beneath his arm, she shifted her weight from her left foot to her right. Her robe pooled around her body and shimmered with her movement, and he caught a glimpse of the curves of her breasts against the fabric, which, of course, caused him to shoot hard as iron.

He flicked his eyes to the open door that led into the bathroom, both longing for and dreading one of his sad showers. He’d delayed his necessary orgasm for about as long as possible.

But a knock sounded at the door. Max craned his head back and looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Right on time, of course.

Bastard.

With a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and walked into the living room, automaton angel dogging his steps all the way. He pulled the door open and stepped aside to admit Jayden, who pulled his wings in as he walked through the door frame. He nodded at Max in greeting but walked right past him to stand before Ana.

“Hello, Anahita,” Jayden said softly.

Max didn’t know why he always held his breath when someone else attempted to talk to Ana—she didn’t answer
anyone
—but he did. And the disappointment Max felt when Anahita ignored Jayden and continued to stare at Max while breathing steadily in and out was sharp. Jayden moved to the sofa with obvious reluctance and sank into the leather with a frown, his eyes still upon Anahita.

Max walked to the armchair. “Where’s Grace?” he asked while taking a seat.

Jayden’s head swiveled to him. “She is still angry with you on Anahita’s behalf.”

Max looked at his hands clenched in his lap. “Fair enough.” Max had never seen Jayden and Grace apart since Ana had gone silent, and so he had made a habit of avoiding them. Their happiness burnt like lemon juice in a cut, so Max couldn’t say he was too upset that Grace had declined his company. Max’s eyes found Anahita again, as they always seemed to do, and he lost himself in the curve where her neck met her shoulder. He loved that curve. Wished he could lick it while he—

“Why did you wish to see me?” Jayden asked.

Max jumped in his seat and jerked his eyes away from Anahita. Jayden raised an eyebrow at him, and Max shifted a little bit, crossing one leg over the other, ankle to knee, in an attempt to hide what his wayward thoughts had caused. He cleared his throat and gripped the arms of the chair with tense fingers. “Ana needs to become a Warrior.”

Jayden narrowed his eyes. “Ana
hita
,” he said, stressing her full name with a glare of disapproval, “cannot do so. You ensured that. She is a Guardian, and a Guardian she will always be.”

Max squeezed the armchair tighter. “But I can’t…” Max stopped and took a breath to dim his desperation as much as possible. He reminded himself this was not about
him
. When he was as calm as he could make himself, he continued. “She is not herself. She cannot be
this
,” he paused to gesture her way, “for the rest of her existence. She would have hated that!” He broke off and shoved a hand through his hair. He had to know, even if it would kill him: “She’ll be like this always?” His voice cracked.

“She is a Guardian under Compulsion with a Ward. She will be this until you die.”

Max started and then leaned forward.

Jayden narrowed his eyes. “And you will not
die
by your own hand during her watch, human, or I will chase you down in the afterlife myself. You will not do that to her. It would not help, that failure to keep you safe.”

Max slumped down in his chair. He had hoped for a second that… Who was he kidding? While she was living, he could not be apart from her, even in death. “I don’t understand why she can’t pull herself out of this.” He looked at Jayden. “She’s
strong
! She beat Remiel for God’s sake. Why can’t she beat the Compulsion?”

Jayden frowned at him, but did admit, albeit grudgingly, “She can if she Falls.”

“No,” Max said quickly. “She will not Fall for me. I don’t deserve it.”

“Agreed.” He raised his eyebrows when Max glared at him. “I
did
warn you of this probable outcome,” Jayden said.

Max straightened. “You did no such thing!”

“I did.”

“You said to me, ‘Max, your plan will turn Anahita into a Goddamn robot angel. Perhaps reconsider’?”

“It was implied in the subtext.”

“Fuck your subtext.”

Jayden rose to his full height. “I think we are done here.”

Max rose to his feet as well. “You have to do something!”

“What can I do?” Jayden roared. “You think I don’t want to? I’m not an angel anymore, Max.” He took a quick step in Max’s direction. “I’m as useless as you!”

Before either of them could react, Anahita was between them, Max staring at her back, Jayden facing down the point of Anahita’s sword.

Jayden muttered something that sounded awfully curse-like. His shoulders drooped, and he took a step back and held up his hands. “I will not harm him, Anahita,” he said. When Anahita still did not lower her sword, Jayden heaved a beleaguered sigh and looked over her shoulder into Max’s eyes. “I am sorry I raised my voice,” he said with actual sincerity, effectively taking the wind out of the sails of Max’s anger.

As though they were magic words, Anahita sheathed her sword and moved back to where she had been standing by the door, her eyes fixed and unblinking once more.

An awkward silence descended, and Max knew they were both trying to ignore the fact that Max’s guardian angel had made Jayden apologize to him as though they were both toddlers fighting over Legos. When the silence grew too oppressive, Max decided to break it. In a whisper, he said, “I know you are still connected to heaven, Jayden. Eli told me.”

Though he seemed relieved to move on, Jayden frowned. “I would not say
connected
. That implies a two-way path. I know what is going on there: that the heavens are in chaos. The Warriors all but disbanded in the wake of their scandal and without their leader.”

“Without their leader? Look at her,” Max said desperately, flinging a hand in her direction. “
She
could be their leader! She beat Remiel. She exposed his rebellion. She’s
earned
his place as head of the Warriors.”

“Yes, she has.” Jayden froze. “Wait, how—?” He frowned. “That is right. But ... I am more intelligent than you,” he said, almost as though he were talking to himself.

Max clenched his teeth. “And more handsome.” Jayden cocked an eyebrow at him, and Max said, “You know, if we’re going to start a list. Asshole.”

“No.” Jayden shook his head. “
I
should have thought of that. She’s the rightful leader of the Warriors! It is ingrained in her as much as being your Guardian is. It just might be enough to get her back to herself.”

“You mean”—Max tried to squelch the warmth flooding his chest before it bloomed into hope—“it’s a possibility? She could snap out of this?”

Jayden looked at Anahita before turning back to Max. “A remote one,” he said finally. “She is hardly cognizant and able to lead. The Warriors will not accept a catatonic leader. And a Guardian at that.”

“It appears to me that the Guardians are stronger than the Warriors. They need to nut up and admit it.”

The corner of Jayden’s lips tipped up, and if Max was not mistaken, he chuckled. “Well, I cannot tell them
that
, but I can tell them something. I am not completely without allies in the Warrior ranks. Perhaps one of them will meet with me…” Jayden straightened. “I must go.”