Rebel Angels 2: Echoes and Embers, Page 3

  He didn’t move. The warmth of her hand seeped through his mantle, stirring fantasies of his own. He pictured her sinking to her knees, completing the task she’d begun in her mind, and taking his turgid shaft into her warm, wet mouth. Trembling with the need to make the image real, he stared at her. Aching.

  “How are you able to see into my mind?” Her question interrupted the unwanted stimulation.

  “It is always within my power, but -- impure thoughts are more readily available to me than any others.”

  “How inconvenient.” She moved her hand and put more space between them.

  He laughed. “I’ve been celibate for the past three millennia. It’s a bit more than inconvenient.”

  Her eyes rounded owlishly. “Three thousand years? You’ve not ... for three thousand years?”

  “Two thousand, eight hundred, and sixty-five, so I suppose three millennia is a bit of an exaggeration.” He turned back to the path, his mantle billowing out around him. “How much farther to Mae’s cottage?”

  “She lives on the far side of the village. This path will take us around.” She hurried to catch up with him as he continued down the trail. “How many Grigori still exist? Lailah said you delegate the majority of these missions to lesser angels in your order.”

  “Lailah talks too much.”

  “What makes this mission so important that it warrants the attention of the Prince of the Grigori?”

  He paused and glared at her. “You dare mock me?”

  She flashed an innocent smile, effectively melting his anger. This female was trouble, no doubt about it!

  “It was an honest question. What makes Rosalind’s case so important?”

  “The Grigori assigned to her case has failed to report for some time now. He’s attempting to conceal his presence from me, which is most disconcerting.” She didn’t need to know that Gadrayel was one of his closest friends, and this sort of behavior often preceded a Fall. The possibility of losing yet another of his order tormented Sariel. “My purpose is to locate my ... subordinate as well as conclude Rosalind’s case.”

  “Conclude her case. That sounds so simple, so harmless. But you’re not harmless at all, are you?” He didn’t reply. They walked for a time in silence and then Alyssa said, “I thought the stories about your order were myths.”

  “My order is real enough,” he said stiffly, resenting the pressure in his groin with each step he took. “As to the stories, I would have to hear them before I can respond.”

  “Are the Grigori really able to produce offspring?” Her tone was hushed with awe.

  The ability to procreate had been withheld from the other angelic orders. The power to create life set the Grigori apart, made them different. Sariel understood her fascination, but the question led in dark, painful directions. “Not while we remain celibate.”

  Moonlight filtered through the trees, gilding her lovely face. Her riotous hair appeared brown in the dimness, but the curling fullness held no less appeal. Her lustful thoughts resonated through him, stirring his desire like never before. Was it just his incredibly long abstinence or was there something special about this female?

  Her brows knitted together. Clearly his admission confused her.

  “Do you remain celibate by choice or by decree?”

  “I choose to obey the decree.”

  She smiled faintly, apparently amused by his churlishness. “What happens if you ignore the decree?”

  “If a Grigori ever again indulges in the pleasures of the flesh with a Daughter of Man, he will Fall.”

  I’m not a Daughter of Man.

  Desire tore through him with staggering intensity. His heart thundered and blood roared in his ears. Sariel’s wings began to unfurl. He stopped the transformation.

  Damn her! She knew he could hear her thoughts.

  He grasped her shoulders and spun her to face him. “Do you want me to toss you to the ground and ravish you right here, right now?” Her wide gaze shone with indecision, not fear. Sariel wanted to shake her. Guiding her hand to his erect shaft, he pressed against her palm. “I assure you, I am more than able.”

  Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. Sariel groaned. Even in the moonlight her mouth appeared lush and soft. He wanted to trace its fullness with his fingertips and his tongue, to delve inside and taste her.

  Forbidden! Such pleasures were forbidden to his kind. He had made his choice long ago, turned his back on a life of debauchery and lust, and never looked back.

  He shoved her away. “Issue the invitation again, by word or deed and I will not hesitate to accept your offer. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes.”

  Despite his threat, determination surged through Sariel, driving back his desire. He could not release his hold on those feelings. Not even for someone as tempting as Alyssa.

  “It’s just around the bend.” She raised her arm, gesturing. Her mantle molded her full breasts and softly curved hips.

  No! I must not. I will not!

  He dragged his gaze from her body and focused on the light visible through the trees.

  * * * * *

  Mae’s cottage had never seemed so tiny before. Alyssa sat before the fire with Mae as the young woman gently rocked her baby. Sariel stood in the center of the room, the only area of the wattle and daub structure able to accommodate his height. Twice Mae had asked him to sit, but the bench next to hers was rickety and low. Alyssa doubted it would support a man Sariel’s size.

  “Where is Karol?” Alyssa asked, drawing Mae’s anxious gaze away from the towering stranger.

  “Our goat got out. Karol went to chase her down. She ain’t much in the way of riches, but come winter, we’ll be glad to have her milk for cheese.” The baby stirred in Mae’s arms. She raised the infant to her shoulder, patting her gently on the back.

  Alyssa glanced at Sariel. His gaze was fixed on the baby, his expression complex, inscrutable. What was he thinking as he looked at the child? Did all angels resent children as Gideon had?

  Frantically grasping for the thought, Alyssa wanted to scream as the mists swirled in again. For just a moment that one thought had been clear within her mind. Gideon resented children. But that didn’t make sense. Gideon had fathered five. That was not characteristic of resentment.

  “So, what can I do for you, Lady Alyssa? It’s not often you visit and you’ve never come without Lady Rosalind before.”

  Returning her attention to Mae’s round face, Alyssa took a moment to study the girl. Buxom, bright-eyed, and rosy-cheeked, Mae’s appeal would last for years to come. “How is your baby?”

  “Would you like to hold her?”

  Without warning, Alyssa’s chest tightened and she could only nod. Mae stood and placed the baby in Alyssa’s arms. Alyssa cradled the child in the crock of her elbow, mesmerized by the perfection of the child’s tiny face.

  “Has Lady Rosalind done something amiss?”

  “Nay. Well, aye. When she visited you earlier, she didn’t tell anyone where she had gone. She frightened me terribly and put herself in danger.” Alyssa shifted the baby closer to her body and looked up at Mae. “Rosalind has become quite difficult of late. I was hoping you could help me understand the cause of her ... surliness.”

  Mae fidgeted, glancing at Sariel, then back at Alyssa. “Does she know you’re here?”

  “Nay, and she need not if that’s your wish.”

  “I ... It is not my place --”

  “Mae, I’m at my wits’ end. I know not where to turn. If I had any alternative, I wouldn’t put you in the middle of our conflict. I must understand why Rosalind has grown so hostile.”

  The young mother wrung her hands. “I’ve spent time with you, milady. I know it’s nothing but foolish talk. But Lady Rosalind is hurt by their words. She loves you more than she cares to admit.”

  Confused by the convoluted explanation, Alyssa waited for the younger woman to elaborate.

  “Lady Rosalind has heard the whispers, the speculation.
She’s not sure how to respond to their ...” As if realizing just how much she’d said, Mae turned bright red and snapped her mouth shut. “It’s really not my place.”

  Mae tried to take her daughter back, but Alyssa stood and passed the sleeping infant to Sariel. He made a startled sound deep in his throat, but settled the baby in the bend of his elbow as Alyssa turned her full attention on Mae.

  “What are they saying about me in the village that has Rosalind so upset?”

  “Milady, it’s nothing. Foolish gossip.”

  Every moment Mae delayed compounded Alyssa’s discomfort. “Well, this foolish gossip has Rosalind behaving like a regular termagant, so you better just spit it out.”

  “They say you’ve gone mad.” Mae admitted in a soft rush of words.

  Stunned beyond words, Alyssa just stared at the girl.

  Dread quickly penetrated her stupor. Why was she surprised? The thought had crossed her own mind more than once. Was she going mad? What would become of Rosalind if reality slipped away?

  “I’m sorry, milady. I don’t believe this foolishness and neither does Lady Rosalind, but she ... Oh, why did you make me tell you? It’s just idle gossip!”

  “Nay, you were right to tell me. You have my thanks.” Alyssa gave the girl’s arm a quick squeeze, but the pressure banding her chest made each breath painful.

  They think I’m mad! The people of Monthamn think I’ve gone mad.

  She turned to Sariel, meaning to hand Mae the baby and make a hasty exit. His golden head bowed toward the child as he whispered words she couldn’t quite hear. A half-smile softened his features, relaxing the harsh angles of his face. Against the velvety green of his eyes, the golden shards glowed, making the pattern clearly visible.

  He was ... magnificent.

  Tears blurred her vision and tenderness melded with her seething emotions. Maybe she was crazy. Her heart, her soul ached for a man she had only just met.

  He lifted his head and their gazes locked, pleasure still illuminating his expression. A tear escaped the corner of her eye and she furiously brushed it away. Would she ever inspire such happiness in another’s gaze? Had there been a time in her life when she was happy?

  “This baby is the most delightful creature I have ever beheld,” Sariel told Mae as he gingerly passed the infant back to her.

  She laughed merrily. “I’ll not argue with you there, kind sir, until she starts to fussing. Do you have children of your own?”

  “Not anymore.” His smile vanished and the gleaming pattern in his eyes disintegrated. “How well did you know Lady Rosalind’s parents?” He spoke again before the women could question his sad statement.

  “As well as any of us village folk, I suppose. We lost so many that year. My parents fell to the Black Death, too.”

  “I’ve been in the parish church,” he began with a quick smile. “Have the Monthamns always had a fascination with angels?”

  “I don’t know about always, but Lady Rosalind’s grandmother sure did. She used to tell such stories. She knew the names of so many angels you’d have thought she’d been to Heaven.”

  Alyssa crossed her arms over her chest as she heard Mae’s words. If Rosalind’s grandmother had been an angel, did that make Rosalind a Nephilim? She couldn’t remember the rules. She couldn’t remember anything!

  Chapter Three

  “Tell me about the Grigori.”

  “What is affecting your memory? Why would I need to tell you about the Order of Grigori?” Sariel regretted the hasty words as soon as they left his lips. Tears filled her eyes again, shimmering in the moonlight. But with several rapid blinks, she kept them from passing beyond her long lashes.

  “If I could recall what was affecting my memory, would the people in the village think me mad?” She raised her chin and squared her shoulders, as if to shove aside her vulnerability. “My memory ebbs and flows like the tide. The harder I try, the denser the fog becomes.”

  Cool night air curled around them, heavy with the scent of chimney smoke and harvest. They hadn’t gone far from Mae’s cottage. The trees were thick, the trail secluded. He took a step closer and reached for her before he realized what he was doing. Clutching his mantle to his chest instead, he glared at Alyssa through the gloom. What was it about this woman that stirred his protective instincts -- not to mention the dark desires he had banished long ago?

  “What exactly do you remember about yourself?”

  “I know what I am not.” She lowered her head, hiding her face with the fall of her hair. “I am not human. But how can I be an angel? I have done things no angel would do.”

  Again the need to protect her, to comfort her, surged through Sariel. He’d never experienced such an instantaneous reaction to another being. Who was she? He must learn more about her.

  He cupped her chin with his hand and raised her face to the moonlight, needing to see her expression, her eyes. “I have no answers for you. Those of us who did not Fall were commanded to remain separate. I know little of the other angelic orders.”

  Moving her face from side to side, she turned his light touch into a caress. Heat spiraled deep into his body. Sariel snatched his hand away. Why did she continue to torment him? By word or deed. Had she not believed his threat or did she want to be ravished?

  “Those of you who did not Fall?” Her voice sounded distant, speculative. He tried to focus on anything other than his throbbing cock. “We’re back at the beginning. Tell me about the Grigori.”

  It didn’t matter if she wanted him or not. He would not jeopardize his position. The ban under which he fell was specific to the Daughters of Man, but that was only because other angels did not feel lust. At least no other angel he had encountered before now.

  Thankful for the distraction, he continued along the rutted trail. “The Grigori were the first angelic order. We are more like humans than the angels created after us. We were intended to interact with mankind, to teach them, to instruct them in the ways of earth, and God’s will.”

  “But some of the Grigori taught humans far more than they were ever meant to know.”

  He paused and looked at her, but her curly hair hid her expression. “Are you supposing? Or do you remember?”

  “I remember stories whispered in the night.” Tossing back her hair, she glanced up through her long lashes. “I remember being saddened by the tales, by the suffering that followed.”

  He set his jaw, searching her face with his gaze. Did she mean the suffering of his fellow Grigori or the humans who had interacted with them? How clearly did she remember what had transpired as a result of ... It didn’t matter now. It all happened long ago.

  “Some members of my order taught the humans about magic and astrology. They were shown the wonder of fire and the destructive power of weapons. The humans were quick to learn and the Grigori able teachers.”

  “And for this your order was made to Fall?” She sounded incredulous. Sariel smiled, pleased by her disapproval. Perhaps her tender feelings had been for his kind.

  “It was far more complicated than unsanctioned information.” He wanted to touch her, to stroke her face with his fingertips and capture her sighs with his mouth. “We had something the humans wanted and they had something we wanted. It became an ongoing barter.”

  “What did the humans have that you wanted?” His gaze moved to her mouth, watching intently as she formed the words.

  Averting his face, he hesitated. Would his admission change the interest in her eyes to distaste or worse? It had happened so often before. The other angels treated his kind with mistrust and derision. They were outcasts, shunned.

  “Part of what sets us apart from the other Angelic Orders is our ... carnality.” He looked at her, waiting for her reaction. “Do I need to be more specific?”

  “Nay.” She shot him a sidelong glance, a teasing smile curving her lips. “Most angels are unaware of their sexuality. They’re spiritual beings, able to take on corporeal form as their missions dictate. Impure th
oughts are unknown to them. Humans, on the other hand, are fascinated by the pleasures of the flesh.”

  He nodded. Her summation was simplistic, but accurate. So why was she aware of her sexuality? She wasn’t Grigori. He knew every member of his order well. There weren’t that many of them left. “Suffice it to say the Grigori share man’s fascination with pleasures of the flesh.”

  “You mentioned a barter.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “What did you mean?”

  “We traded knowledge for women -- young, beautiful women.”

  She stopped walking and faced him, her gaze luminous in the moonlight. “Did these women willingly participate in the barter or were they sacrificed on the altar of knowledge?”

  He laughed. She made it sound almost religious. “It was a very long time ago. I can only speak for myself. I never accepted an offering not freely -- nay, eagerly -- given.”

  “And they called your children Nephilim?”

  Taking a deep breath, he tried to relay the information without reliving the past. It had happened so long ago, but the desire twisting through his body made it all too easy to recall. “When the practice began, we had no idea offspring were even possible. By the time the abnormalities began to manifest, it was too late.”

  “What abnormalities? Did ... you father children?”

  Pain tore through his carefully erected barriers, shredding his composer. Emotional defenses a thousand years in the making came crashing down.

  He hooked his hands beneath her arms and spun her toward a massive tree. Pinning her against the wide trunk, he held her suspended off the ground, her face level with his. “I fathered three children. Two died by my hand! Every woman I took was wild for it, not just willing. I can make females crave me, become so ravenous for my touch they will do anything to attain fulfillment! They came to me, over and over, until I was forced to retreat from their demands.”

  Her full breasts heaved against his chest. Even staring into her eyes her emotions eluded him. He longed for understanding more desperately than anything he could remember. Why her opinion mattered, he couldn’t begin to comprehend. But he wanted -- no, needed -- her acceptance. Would she think him monstrous, barely better than the Fallen? What his kind had done was --