The Order Boxed Set (96 page)

“You think she won’t wake?” he growled. “You’re wrong.”

He hated the look she gave him; he didn’t need pity. When the door closed behind her, he sat staring out through the window into the twilight. Absently, he picked up a brush from the table and stroked it through the long, silky strands of her hair.

She stirred in his arms, and his heart stopped beating.

…

A light flickered in the darkness. Faith was warm, comfortable. Part of her didn’t want to move, but something was drawing her upward. She tried to concentrate, think where she was. She’d been in the room with Ryan, and she’d been dying.

But she wasn’t dead, at least she didn’t think so. In fact she was hungry, her insides hollow. She’d hardly be hungry if she were dead.

Someone was stroking her hair, and for a few seconds she reveled in the sensation. Only one person’s touch had the ability to make her feel that good.

Ash.

Slowly she became aware of her surroundings; she was lying in bed, held tight in a man’s arms, her hand splayed on his silk shirt, her leg pressed against smooth leather of his pants. Breathing in, she recognized the sharp, spicy scent of her favorite demon.

Her stomach rumbled as her eyes flicked open. She was back in the room high in the tower, and beneath her cheek, she could feel the solid thump of his heart. Ash shifted her in his arms, so she lay across him and could look up into his hard handsome face. With a trembling hand, she stroked the roughness of his cheek, just as her stomach grumbled again.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I don’t suppose there’s a bacon sandwich anywhere close. Maybe two.”

For a few seconds his head rested back against the wall, his eyes closed. Then a chuckle resounded through his chest. “As many as you want.” He raised his head slightly and kissed her palm. “I love you.”

Maybe she shouldn’t feel this happy. Perhaps this was just a brief reprieve, and she was still going to die and she had no right to anyone’s love. All the same, she couldn’t prevent the smile curving her lips. “Good. Because I’ve decided I quite like the monsters.”

“Quite like?” He sounded offended.

“Well, one monster.” She struggled to sit up. “I thought I was dead, and it was too late, and I hadn’t told you I loved you. I’m glad you came back.”

“Of course I came back. So tell me.” He echoed her earlier words.

She took a deep breath, stared into his dark eyes, eyes filled with love. “I love you. I think I’ve always loved you, and that I’ll love you forever.”

“Forever is good, because there’s something else I need to tell you.”

“There is?” Why did he look so worried? “What’s been happening? Where’s Ryan? That’s the last I remember. I was with Ryan. I was dying and I wasn’t going to see you again. But now I feel…” She peered inside herself; the headache was gone, vanished as if it had never been. “I feel wonderful.”

Ash put her from him and lowered her gently onto the furs covering the bed. He rolled to his feet and paced the room a couple of time. Came back to stand over her, his brows drawn together, hands shoved in his pockets. He was building himself up to tell her something, and he wasn’t sure she’d be pleased.

“I’m not dead am I? Some sort of ghost and I’ve really gone to Hell?”

A smile flickered a across his face. “No. You’re not dead.”

“Did Roz come back and save me?”

“Not quite.”

“How ‘not quite’? What did you do? Why don’t you want to tell me?”

He sat beside her and took her hand. “You were in a coma. I couldn’t ask you. I had to make a decision.”

“Jesus, Ash, just spit it out. What did you do?”

“I gave you angel’s blood.”

The words didn’t make much sense. “Why?”

“The elixir of life. That’s what it is—angel’s blood. Or rather Archangel’s blood. You were dying and I just happened to know where there was an Archangel and…”

“And he donated some blood?”

“I…persuaded him to part with a little.”

“You didn’t kill an angel?”

“Unfortunately not. They’re not that easy to kill. He’s still around.”

“And are you in trouble?”

“Big trouble. But it was worth it. Or will be as long as you’re happy.”

She searched his face trying to work out what she was missing. “Why shouldn’t I be happy? I’m alive. What aren’t you telling me?”

He took a deep breath. “You’re immortal.”

Again, although she heard them, the words didn’t make a lot of sense. “As in I’ll-live-forever immortal?”

He nodded.

“I’m not going to die. Like not ever?”

“You can still be killed, but you won’t grow old and you won’t get sick.”

She thought about that for a minute. So far so good. Was there a catch? “Hey, I’m not going to turn into an angel or anything?”

A shudder ran through him. “I certainly hope not.”

Faith was finding it hard to take in. She’d been dying, and now she was going to live forever, and Ash loved her. “You’d better make sure those angels don’t kill you. I don’t want to spend eternity on my own.”

“I’ll make sure.” Lowering his head, his lips brushed hers. “After all, I’ve got something to live for now.”

“And so have I.”

Epilogue

“So it’s safe here, then?” Tara asked.

Roz nodded. “I presume so. But Piers was being very mysterious.”

Another two weeks had passed. Faith had spent most of them in Ash’s bed making love and coming to terms with her change in circumstances. Every morning she’d stand in front of the mirror and say, “I am immortal,” ten times. It still hadn’t sunk in.

She hadn’t attended any of the many meetings, but she was aware that the others had not returned to the Order and were still residing in Ash’s house. Ash claimed they had heard nothing from Raphael but were being cautious. And with good reason; she’d come to understand just what Ash had risked when he’d saved her life. If Lucifer—and she was impressed she could think that name without screaming—hadn’t freed him from his debt, he would have been in serious trouble. And all for her.

Then today, Piers had called a meeting and insisted everyone attend and it was to take place at the Order. So here they all were, back on Earth and in Piers’s office. Waiting for Piers.

Tara and Christian sat side by side on the black leather sofa. Roz perched on the arm, one leg swinging and beside her stood a tall “man” who Faith had never seen before. Dressed in tight black pants, long boots, and a sword at his side, he would have stood out even if he hadn’t been the most beautiful being she had ever seen.

“Who’s that?” she whispered to Ash.

“Total asshole,” Ash replied. “Actually, that’s the Walker. He’s Roz’s father and the fae representative on the committee.”

“A fairy?”

He smirked. “Yeah. Say it a little louder.”

There was no love lost there. Ryan sat behind the desk, reading something on the monitor. He glanced up as though sensing her regard. “Hi there, angel.”

“Piss off, Ryan.”

“Not an option, but it’s good to have you back on form. Let’s hope this means we can get back to work and reschedule these meetings. I’m going crazy doing nothing.”

“You need to get yourself a woman,” Ash suggested, pulling her against his side. But she knew he was also eager to get back to work. And she’d accepted the job with the Order as well, though she wasn’t sure in what capacity yet. She was going to take some time and feel her way around the place, but she looked forward to it.

Also present was Carl, the werewolf, Graham, and a young man Tara had introduced her to as Jamie. Who apparently could turn into a cat just like Shera. She’d got to the point where she’d believe anything.

A shiver ran over her skin, a tingle running along her nerve endings, and she rubbed her arms.

“What’s wrong?” Ash asked.

“I don’t know.”

The tingling grew stronger. A second later, the door was flung open and Piers stepped into the room. A man followed close behind, and Faith felt Ash stiffen beside her.

“What the fuck is he doing here?”

Piers grinned. “Meet the brand-new member of the Committee for the Integration of blah, blah, blah.”

“You are fucking kidding me?”

“Afraid not.”

Faith studied the second man. She was guessing this was Raphael, though he didn’t look in the least angelic. Tall and stunning, with pale blond hair brushed back revealing a face of mesmerizing beauty.

“Holy shit,” Roz muttered.

“You’ve got that fucking right,” Ash snarled. “He’s holy, and he’s a complete piece of shit.”

“Well, for the time being, he’s our piece of shit,” Piers said. “It seems Raphael has been a bad boy in giving information about us to the humans. This is his punishment.”

“Fuck off, Lamont,” Raphael murmured. His dark gaze searched the room settling on Roz. “Ah, the abomination.”

The Walker placed himself between Roz and the angel, and Piers took a step toward her. “Yeah, the abomination you’ve taken an oath not to touch.”

“She’s safe from me.” Raphael’s gaze continued on, until it reached Faith. His eyes narrowed. “Is this the one?”

Ash gave a curt nod.

Raphael moved closer. A low growl trickled from Ash’s throat but the angel ignored him and reached out a hand to her, stroking down her cheek. The touch felt like fire.

“Blood of my blood,” he murmured. “We must talk sometime—prepare you for the changes to come.”

Without waiting for an answer, he strolled away. Perching on the edge of the desk, one long leg swinging, he surveyed the room. “So, can we get a move on? Some of us have more important things to do.”

“Pompous git,” Ash muttered.

“Changes?” she murmured as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against him. “What changes?”

“I have no clue, but it will be an interesting journey of discovery.”

Hmmm. She’d definitely be having that chat with Raphael at some point. But it could wait, now that it didn’t look like he was going to try and kill Ash or her or Roz. “So are we all safe now?”

“For the moment.”

That was enough.

All her life, she’d gone after the bad guys, and now she was in love with a demon. She’d been alone and now she had found a place to belong. She’d thought she was dying and she was going to live forever.

Best not to think about it too much and just take one day at a time…for eternity.

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Acknowledgments

To my fabulous editors at Entangled Publishing, Liz Pelletier, and her assistant Robin Haseltine, for all their wonderful comments, edits and encouragement. To all the great women at Passionate Critters for reading my stories and letting me know what they really think. And finally, to my husband Rob, who puts up with me, and encourages me, and does a great job of hiding it when he’s totally fed up with me vanishing into my imaginary worlds and filling the house with vampires and werewolves.

Bittersweet Freedom

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 by Nina Croft. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 109

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at
www.entangledpublishing.com
.

Select Otherworld is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Candace Havens

ISBN 978-1-63375-618-2

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition April 2016

To anyone and everyone in search of freedom…I hope you find it.

Chapter One

Oh God, they were kissing again.

Ugh.

It went on…and on…and on.

Shera propped a shoulder against the stone wall, folded her arms across her chest, and waited. And still it didn’t end. She wished she could look away, but her fascinated gaze remained glued on the couple.

No one had ever kissed her like that—as though she was the most important thing in the whole world and he would never get enough. But then, she wasn’t the most important thing in anyone’s world. Never had been, and—if she didn’t get away from this place—never would be. Tugging her notebook and pencil from her back pocket, she thought for a moment, then scribbled on the bottom of her bucket list:

Find someone to kiss me for…five minutes, non-stop.

Her bucket list was getting longer. Not that she had much hope of doing any of the stuff on there. But she had to try. And to do that she had to talk to Asmodai. Unfortunately he was preoccupied, his long, lean figure wrapped around his wife, her fingers clenched in his midnight dark hair.

Finally, he lifted his head, and Shera took a step forward. “My lord—”

He cut off her words with a wave of his hand, and her mouth snapped closed. Obedience to this man was ingrained in her, and she hated that. She waited for him to speak to her. Instead he kissed the woman. Again.

Shera gritted her teeth, and the pencil she still held in her hand snapped in two.

Her family were cat shifters—though Shera could also shift into a hellhound, something she tended to keep quiet about as it made people nervous—and had been bonded to the demon Asmodai for generations beyond memory. Which made her nothing more than a slave, a chattel. Shera even bore his sigil wrapped around her left arm like a brand: a perpetual sign of her servitude. Last week she’d tried to cut it out, but the skin had healed overnight, leaving the mark as perfect as before.

She’d been his housekeeper for the last five years, since she had turned twenty-one. It was the job her mother had done before her. The woman who had given birth to Shera then promptly slit her wrists before jumping from the top of this very tower.

Even her mother hadn’t cared enough to stay.

At last her lord and master raised his head.

“My lord—”

“Later,” he snapped, his dark eyes still focused solely on the woman in his arms—Faith, his new wife. “Come on,” he murmured, “I’ll take you to your friends. They get half an hour before I want you back.”

Without glancing in Shera’s direction, he lifted Faith against his chest, and launched himself from the ledge that ran around the tower. For a few minutes, Shera stood there like an idiot gazing at the spot where they’d vanished. Then she shook her head. She might as well be invisible. Maybe she
was
invisible. Wasn’t that what the perfect servant should be? But she had seen the look of pity in Faith’s eyes as she had briefly caught her gaze.

She didn’t want to be a goddamn object of pity. She didn’t want to be a freaking perfect servant.

Wrapping her arms around her middle, she stood at the edge of the tower and gazed out at the twilight landscape of the Abyss—the flat ochre plain and the high rise of mountains silhouetted in the distance. She turned her gaze closer and peered down to the flagstone courtyard far below. Unlike Asmodai, she had no wings to carry her safely to the ground.

She didn’t know what was wrong with her. While she’d never been particularly happy, she’d always been content enough. But these last few weeks everything had changed, and she didn’t know why. It was as though something alien had awoken deep within her, stirring up desires she’d never experienced before. She wanted so much and felt as though her heart might explode with the needs inside her. But it was more than that. All her life, this had been her home, her sanctuary. Now she no longer felt safe here. Her skin prickled constantly as though someone was watching her, waiting…

She had to escape.

She remembered that look Faith had cast her. Okay, maybe she’d accept the pity if that was what it took to get away from here. One last try. She could ask Faith to talk to Asmodai. Ask him to release her, if only for a while. She could get her head straight and maybe learn to accept what she was and her role in life.

A freaking slave.

Was she bitter and twisted? Hell, yes.

Her boots clattered against the stone as she made her way down the spiral stairway from the tower and across the courtyard to the small salon where she knew Faith would be meeting with her friends.

The door was slightly ajar, and she hesitated. These three had always intimidated her, made her remember she was nothing but a slave, and that always made her act like a bitch.

She took a deep breath, but as she went to push open the door, Tara, Asmodai’s half-demon, half-fey daughter, spoke from inside, and Shera paused.

“What’s wrong?” Tara asked. “You seem a little…preoccupied.”

“I was thinking about Shera,” Faith replied softly.

Shera went instantly still, her hand dropping to her side.

“She wanted to talk to Ash just now, and we pretty much ignored her. We should be nicer to her—it must be hard being enslaved to a demon your whole life.”

“Well, she won’t be a problem much longer,” Tara replied. “Apparently my father is moving her someplace else. He thinks you don’t like her, would be happier with her gone. So of course, Shera has to go.”

A wave of heat washed over her. Shera had always thought Faith was nice, and while they weren’t friends, they’d got on okay. Well, as okay as she got on with anyone. To find out now that Faith wanted her gone was like a blade to her heart.

Her fists clenched at her sides. She couldn’t listen anymore. She backed away from the door, whirled around, and ran across the courtyard, back into the tower, then down the steps that led into the catacombs below.

Once in the cool darkness, she sank to the floor, leaning her back against the smooth rock.

She was nothing more than a slave. Had no say in her life. Asmodai could do whatever he liked with her, hand her over to some other demon, kill her even, if that was his whim.

The feelings grew inside her, like wildfire ripping through bone-dry tinder, until her blood was red-hot lava bubbling in her veins, and she threw back her head and screamed.

No more.

She was getting out of here. Whatever the cost. And she had no doubt that it would be high. Maybe even her life.

She rubbed at the sigil on her arm. There was a rumor that if you escaped, then a month later the sigil would… Actually, she didn’t know what it would do, but it was designed to keep the household slaves from running, so probably nothing good.

But she knew what would happen if she stayed. She’d be passed on like a piece of unwanted furniture.

No, she was going to leave, have some fun, find some guy to kiss her, maybe more. Cross a few things off her bucket list. And afterward…well, she’d worry about the consequences when they couldn’t be avoided.

First, she needed funds. She knew enough of the world to realize that fun didn’t come cheap. As Asmodai’s housekeeper, she had access to everywhere in the castle. She knew where the gold was kept.

And he owed her.

Time he paid up.

Chapter Two

Follow the mayhem…

That’s what Asmodai, aka Ash, had told him when the demon had sent Carl after his errant housekeeper. At the time, Carl had wondered how much mayhem one little cat shifter could cause.

As it turned out—a hell of a lot.

Carl rolled his shoulders to ease the tension. With only two days until the full moon, his wolf was restless. The magic was building inside him, craving release. So he’d get this done, return Shera to her rightful home, and then head up to his place on Rannoch Moor, where he had the freedom to shift and run.

He’d seen Shera around once or twice when he’d been at Ash’s place—tall and slender, with long black hair that reached down to her ass, green eyes, a thing for lots of tight, black leather, and a manner of looking straight through him as though he didn’t exist. That look of disdainful disinterest always got him hot and hard.

Now, studying the woman who sat alone at the small table on the beach, smiling up at the waiter as she made her order, he hardly recognized her from the leather clad, super-bitch he’d seen before. She looked softer in the cotton dress, which showed off her bare shoulders, revealing the demon’s sigil wrapped around her upper arm. Her formerly pale skin was sun-kissed, she wore no makeup, and her hair had been cut off at the shoulders.

She looked beautiful and happy.

For the first time, a little niggle of guilt jabbed him in the gut. What right did he have to haul her back to slavery in the Abyss?

He pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial. Ash answered straight away. “You’ve found her?”

Was that relief in the demon’s voice? Carl frowned. What was going on? Why was Ash so worried about getting his housekeeper back? Now he thought about it, Ash had been a little cagey about the whole thing. “Yes.”

“Where is she?”

“Southern Spain. In a bar on the beach.”

“What the hell is she doing in a bar?”

“What the fuck do you think she’s doing in bar? Having a drink.”

“Stop her. Right now.”

Was that a hint of panic? It took a lot to panic a demon.

“Why?” he asked. “What aren’t you telling me?” Ash was silent for a moment. “Come on, spit it out, Ash, or I’m walking away right now and you can do your own dirty work.”

As Head of Security for the Order of the Shadow Accords, the organization that policed the supernatural world, it was not part of Carl’s job description to chase after runaway housekeepers, even ones in possession of a stolen stash of extremely volatile demon’s gold. He’d done it as a favor and because he’d wanted to get away for a while—his boss, Piers Lamont, was pissing him off more than usual. He wanted Carl to go talk to the pack and that was never going to happen.

“I may not have told you quite…everything.”

How surprising
. “So, what haven’t you told me?”

“You know I said Shera was a shifter.”

“Yeah.”

“Actually, she’s only half shifter.”

He had a bad feeling about this. “And the other half?”

“Demon.”

Shit.
His gaze shifted to the woman.
No way.
But why would Ash lie? “Does she know?”

“I never got around to telling her. At first, I was preoccupied with other things. Then later…when there was no obvious sign of her heritage, I put it off. Hey, she was a good housekeeper—I didn’t want to lose her. Anyway, lately I decided it was time, so I informed her father, and he offered her a home. I was going to talk to her, but I’ve been a little busy.”

No point in asking what with. Ash had been totally engrossed in his new wife.

“So she’s half demon, but doesn’t know it,” Carl said. “Shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Unless she has a drink.”

“Shit.” He glanced across to where the waiter was placing a tall glass in front of her.
Fuck.

There was no alcohol in the Abyss, as demons usually had a bad reaction to drink: it lowered their inhibitions, made their demonic side rise to the surface and want to come out to play. Carl had cleaned up a lot of alcohol-induced demon mayhem during his time with the Order.

“So I tell her, and she doesn’t have a drink.”

“You can’t tell her,” Ash said quickly. “If she’s on the edge, it’s the one bit of information that could tip her over, and newly awakened demons aren’t known for their control. We’ll tell her when she’s safely back in the Abyss.”

“Okay, then I have to go…
now
.”

He ended the call and was already on the move as he shoved the phone in his pocket. He had a feeling he was about to ruin Shera’s evening.

Looked like she was going home whether she liked it or not.

…

A week. She’d been away a whole week.

Shera stared at her cocktail—red and orange with a yellow umbrella and a pink straw. It was almost too pretty to drink.

The escape had been relatively easy. She’d bribed one of the gatekeepers to open a portal to Earth. The gate had deposited her in London. From there she’d made her way to the Continent, taking a ferry to Calais and then a train down through France and into Spain. She knew where she was heading. She wanted the sea and the sun, and she kept going south until she met the Mediterranean and could go no farther.

Money was no problem. She’d done a little research and discovered the best places to exchange her gold for something she could use; only changing one coin at a time, so she wouldn’t be too conspicuous.

The first few days she’d spent every minute looking behind her, expecting Asmodai to appear like an avenging demon and drag her back to servitude. And once or twice she’d been sure she sensed a demon’s presence—a faint hint of sulfur on the air. But nothing had come of it. In reality, Asmodai probably hadn’t even noticed she was gone. She had the whole place running like clockwork—unless something went wrong she doubted anyone would miss her.

She’d finally settled in a little tourist town on the coast, renting a small villa close to the beach. After two days, she still couldn’t get enough of the sun, and she’d spent all the daylight hours sprawled on the yellow sand, dipping in the blue of the Mediterranean. She’d ditched the black leather; it was way too hot. Besides, it had never really been her style, just something else to hide behind.