Archangel of Mercy (24 page)

“No,” Gabe said. “Surprisingly, considering the size of her ego. She stole DNA from all the Alphas for her baseline, found this planet and experimented for millennia until she was satisfied with the outcome.”

From
all
the Alphas? Without their consent? She imagined the other mighty gods and goddesses would have been furious.

“And created the angels?” Her voice was still hushed, still awed.

This time Gabe offered her a crooked smile, and it pierced right through her heart.

“Again, no. She created, for want of a better word, our cousins. You met one. Eblis.”

“Oh.” She could feel her eyes widening in shock but couldn’t seem to help herself. “I thought he was a demon, not an angel.” That would teach her to jump to conclusions.

“He is.” Gabe didn’t appear to notice her confusion. “There was just one problem with the demons that became apparent some time after they hit maturity. They bred like rabbits with the humans of Earth.”

Chapter Thirty-one

I
SUPPOSE
that would be a problem,” Aurora said, but her mind was reeling. Was half the Earth swarming with the descendants of demons? On second thoughts, that would explain a
lot
.

Gabe grunted, whether in agreement or not she couldn’t tell.

“The problem, so far as our goddess was concerned, was her demons were spending far too much time indulging in earthly pleasures and not nearly enough in worshipping at her feet. And she loathed their offspring with a passion.”

“Well, it always makes sense to blame the innocent.”

His fingers caressed her waist, seemingly unaware of his action, and he shot a sardonic smile her way. “Demon spawn are many things, sweetheart, but they’re never innocent.” Then he gave a heavy sigh. “She banished her demons and as many of their children as she could find. Turned them loose in the universe and began Version II.” His eyes narrowed. “The archangels. And this time she ensured there would be no messy distractions in the form of . . . offspring.”

Chills inched along her skin at his words and at the shocking implication behind them. “She created you sterile?” But it didn’t make sense. He had already admitted some archangels had children.
He
had a child.

“She thought she did.” He leaned his head against the back of the sofa and gazed at the ceiling. “As we matured we, too, indulged in earthly pleasures. There was a magnificent civilization back then, Aurora. A thriving culture based on science and mathematics that had evolved over ten thousand years or more. We were the immortal ones and yet we learned so much from them.”

“And this”—Aurora hesitated, not wanting to interrupt his reminiscences but unsure if she had missed something vital—“was on
Earth
?”

“In time,” Gabe said, as if he had not heard her question, “it became apparent that, with the one who claimed our heart, we could have children. But despite the joy they brought us we were always consumed with guilt.”

“Because you were going against the word of your goddess?”

He looked at her, frowning.

“No.” His expression suggested that was the last reason he would feel guilt and couldn’t imagine why she thought he should. “It was because our beloved Nephilim possessed no souls. Unlike the offspring of gods and mortals who suffered from no such curse, our children—children we loved with all our hearts—could never be reborn. We were condemned to know that because of us, our precious children were destined for one life. And one life only.”

His daughter.

A hard knot of anguish filled the center of her chest. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the depth of Gabe’s despair. And he had existed for who knew how long, consumed with misplaced guilt.

“I’m so sorry.” The words were barely audible and hardly adequate. But she meant them. With everything she was.

“It happened long ago.” He drew in a deep breath, his magnificent chest expanding beneath her. “But that’s the reason why Evalyne can’t be descended from an archangel. We only ever procreated on Earth, and that was millennia ago. When we finally left the place of our creation and ventured into the rest of the universe we all made a vow. We would never fall again.”

His words stabbed through her, but she refused to allow the devastation a foothold. She knew he didn’t love her. Knew now why he could never love her. Except . . .

Something was missing.
Something he still wasn’t telling her, apart from the fact he had once had a daughter. A piece of his history between the time archangels had children and when they had made the decision to never love again.

But she could hardly question him on it. Not when he’d shared so much of his past with her. Not when she didn’t even know why she was so convinced he’d withheld something of vital significance.

Slowly she sat up so she could face him properly. She knew he considered the matter of Evalyne’s heritage closed and maybe it was. Or maybe he was just blinded by his preconceived notions.

“Gabe.” She kept her voice soft, despite the overwhelming certainty that she was right and needed to make him see that. “I understand what you’re telling me. But”—she hesitated, took a deep breath and plunged ahead—“there’s something I want to show you. I found it earlier today, just before Mephisto turned up.”
Had that really been earlier today?
It seemed like a lifetime ago. She smothered her impatience as Gabe reconfigured the laptop to accept her DNA, and she trawled through her mind, trying to recall the specific pathways she’d followed.

Gabe didn’t question her, but neither did he seem especially interested in what she was searching for. Minutes crawled by as she scrolled through endless obscure snippets of information. Finally, just as panic began to nibble around the edges of her mind, she hit gold.

“There.” She turned to Gabe, who still appeared lost in another world. “Look. She was abducted by the Guardians but murdered before they returned her. And she’s wearing a necklace identical to Evalyne’s.”

He glanced at the screen, as if he imagined she was hallucinating. Within a second his focus sharpened and he took the laptop from her as he scrutinized the image with a fierce intensity.

“Shit.” The word hissed between his gritted teeth, but still his gaze remained transfixed on the image before him. “
Angel blood.
” He said the words as if disjointed pieces of the puzzle had suddenly fallen into place. “It can’t be.”

“What can’t be?” She gripped his biceps, willed him to look at her. “What is it, Gabe?”

He dragged his gaze from the laptop, a wild look in his eyes. “Something one of the pirates said when I interrogated him.” He sounded distracted, his attention only partially on her. “I discounted it.
Shit.
”

Nausea churned in the pit of her stomach. She’d been so focused on connecting the necklace with an angelic heritage that she’d missed a huge, obvious link.

“You don’t think Evalyne’s been taken by the Guardians, do you?” But even as she asked the question a dreadful certainty gripped her heart. “It doesn’t mean they’ll kill her though, does it? They don’t usually drain their victims. . . .” The words dried in her throat as the full impact punched through her heart. “They only take the blood of the descendants of
angels
.”

Gabe jerked his head as if in denial. “There has to be another explanation. Another connection.” He shoved the laptop at her and stood up. “I’m going to question Jaylar about his immortal heritage.”

She pushed the laptop onto the sofa and followed him. “Let me come, Gabe.”

“No. It’s too dangerous.”

“What are the odds the Guardians’ll know where I am? We won’t be that long, will we?”

“You’re not coming with me.”

She gripped his hand. Now was hardly the right time to broach her suggestion but she had a feeling there never would be a right time. And she needed to know, one way or the other.

“Isn’t there some way you can adapt the force field that protects your island so it can protect me? Like a mobile unit or something?”

“What?” He sounded as if she had just said something completely incomprehensible.

“The force field repels the Guardians. Surely it must be possible to rig something I can use so I can be protected outside your island?”

“No.”

Was that it? No discussion? “But—”

“Aurora.” It was obvious he was battling the instinct to simply ignore her questions and continue his mission without her. “It’s not something I can manipulate to my will. It exists, but I didn’t consciously create it. I could no sooner remove its presence as I could re-create its power.”

He hadn’t
consciously
created it? “Then how—”

“I don’t have time now.” Impatience threaded his voice. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

No. He had to see that she wasn’t a liability and she didn’t deserve to be pushed aside. “I might be able to help.”

For a moment she saw another denial glowing in his eyes. But the truth hovered between them. Against all the odds, against both of their expectations she had already helped him. How could he deny the possibility, no matter how slender, that she could help again?

Air hissed between his gritted teeth, as if she drove him to the edge of endurance.

“Stay close.” Then he wound his arms around her and teleported.

—

MEPHISTO FOUND ZAD
at a primitive Taoist retreat hidden deep in the sacred mountains of China. He leaned against a timber support of the hut Zad had acquired and scowled at the mountainous panorama before him.

It had been millennia since he’d been so genuinely shaken. And it had taken a
mortal
to bring him to such an undignified pass.

Not just any mortal. But then, Eleni had never been
just a mortal
.

No wonder he’d been intrigued by Aurora when he’d found her in London. Somehow, something in him had recognized her true character. It explained the odd glow in her aura after Gabe had given her his protection at Eblis’s club. Because her aura hadn’t shown the usual glow of a mortal claimed by an archangel. Mephisto hadn’t recognized the signature at all, but then again he hadn’t been looking for a sign of unbreakable archangelic devotion.

But when she had stood up to him earlier, when she’d had the audacity to thrust into his mind, the image of Eleni had burst through his brain. It was so visceral that for one terrifying second he had feared for his sanity.

It wasn’t possible.
He’d battled with that absolute for hours. But it didn’t change the fact.

Eleni had been reborn.

Zad emerged from the hut and propped himself against the other timber support. He was covered in dust and stank of whatever disaster he’d recently returned from. The silence stretched between them, as silences had often stretched between them. But this time he found no solace, no comfort, as this silence hung like a thick blanket of fog, suffocating his thought processes.

Finally he could stand it no longer.

“Demon spawn are soulless. That was ancient knowledge when we discovered Earth, right?”

Still glaring at the imposing mountain ranges, from the corner of his eye he saw Zad’s profile tense.

“Right.” The word was guarded. It was like Zad knew what Mephisto was about to say. Except that wasn’t possible. Even Gabe, the poor bastard, hadn’t guessed the truth.

“By default so were the Nephilim.”

This time Zad didn’t answer. Just folded his arms and unfurled his wings by the smallest degree.

“Nephilim,” Mephisto said, turning to the other archangel whose expression might have been carved from marble, “could never be reborn. That’s a fundamental, irrefutable fact.”

“What’s with the potted history?” There was an edge to Zad’s voice. “Think I need a refresher?”

Molten rage pumped through Mephisto’s veins. Rage and frustration that something he had believed in, had failed to question, had taken as absolute truth—
was a lie.

“Eleni”—the name he had once been so familiar with tangled on his tongue—“is
back
, Zad.”

Zad shot him a smoldering glare. “Told Gabe that, did you?” For once his voice wasn’t even. It pulsed with a bitter fury.

“Gabe doesn’t have a fucking clue.”
And neither, apparently, did Eleni.
Mephisto clenched his fist and pounded the timber support. It splintered, and the hut sagged like a drunken goblin. “If he’s lucky, he never will.” He glared at Zad. “Her death almost destroyed Gabe once. He can’t find out who she really is, Zad. I don’t think we could bring him back from the abyss a second time.”

Chapter Thirty-two

A
URORA
pried open her eyes and relaxed her death grip on Gabe. Teleportation might be a great way to travel but her stomach didn’t appear to agree. She took a deep breath and stepped back, only to have Gabe slide his fingers through hers and jerk her swiftly back to his side.

They were in an elegantly appointed room reminiscent, more than anything, of a drawing room of an eighteenth-century French château. Except interspersed with the luxurious furnishing was evidence of super-sophisticated technology.

A tall man, who looked completely human, stood in front of them. He gave a half-bow, his gaze fixed on Gabe, and uttered foreign words. All she recognized was
Gabriel.

Her heart sank further when Gabe replied in the strange language. It hadn’t occurred to her she wouldn’t understand anything that was being said.

“What are you saying?” she whispered urgently. Was it too much to hope he had the equivalent of a Babel Fish handy?

Gabe glanced down at Aurora. How had he forgotten she couldn’t understand the Medan language? He knew the demons had developed technology to address this problem for their high-ranking half-bloods; those who, unlike archangels and demons, hadn’t inherited the ability to process a multitude of complex languages from their Alpha forebears. If they had a telepathic connection he could instantaneously translate the conversation to her.
And there was no reason why they couldn’t establish a telepathic connection.

He pulled himself back to the present. Now wasn’t the time to initiate such a connection, not when he had to negotiate around Aurora’s unique brain structure.

“I’ll translate.” He turned back to Jaylar. “Where did your daughter get her angel wings necklace?”

“My Lord?” Jaylar glanced at Aurora as if she might hold the answer then back at him. “Her what?”

Before he could translate, Aurora pulled her necklace from beneath her top. Jaylar’s focus riveted on her outstretched palm.

“Angel wings?” He sounded confused. “We’ve never called it such. My mother gave Evalyne a necklace much like this one on her fourth birthday. Just days before she disappeared.”

“Where did your mother get the necklace?”

“My Lord, I fail to see how the origin of a necklace can have any bearing on—”

“Answer the question.”

“Gabe.” Aurora flattened her free hand against his chest. “Ask him if his ancestors came from Earth.”

Irritation flared that she dared to interrupt him, dared to question his methods. And instantly died. Because she was right.

He relayed the question.

“No.” There was a thread of defiance in Jaylar’s tone, as though he expected Gabe to take issue with his denial. Then he shot Aurora another glance and appeared to reconsider his answer. “But our family history has always hinted that our esteemed demi-goddess ancestor spent time on that far-flung planet before she settled on Medana. The necklace originates from her. We’ve always believed it was forged by the gods themselves.”

Gabe translated for Aurora as he trawled through ancient memories. In those enlightened days demi-gods and goddesses had been plentiful on Earth and many had taken archangels as their lovers. But it still didn’t answer the vital question: How had Jaylar’s ancestor been in possession of such a precious artifact?

“He’s almost right,” Aurora said, making no sense at all. He stared at her and she raised her eyebrows, apparently surprised he couldn’t follow her obscure train of thought. “About the necklace. Except it wasn’t forged by gods, but by archangels.”

Since he was the one who had told her that, Gabe couldn’t work out why Aurora thought she might have unearthed a great revelation. “And Jaylar’s descended from the gods, not archangels.” Theoretically, the fact that Evalyne had a drop of immortal blood in her veins should have been protection enough against the Guardians grasping claws. But, just as the ritual to effect an archangel’s protection over a mortal required the spilling of blood, a similar ritual was needed before descendants of immune immortals were also granted the same invulnerability. Eleni had undergone the ritual at birth, and she and Gabe had bestowed the protection onto Helena.

But he knew how easy it would be for that knowledge to be lost through countless ages. The gods, like the demons, had never experienced any problems with procreating and only acknowledged their offspring when it pleased them to do so. If Jaylar’s demi-goddess ancestor hadn’t bestowed the protection on her own child, or told anyone else on Medana of it, then the knowledge hadn’t been lost. It had never been shared in the first place.

He returned his attention to Aurora and the enigma of the necklace. “There’s no reason why she should be in possession of the wings.”

“Unless an archangel
gave
that demi-goddess the necklace while she was still on Earth.”

“That,” Gabe said with finality, “would never have happened.”

“Well, unless you think it likely that she stole it, then as far as I can see the only answer is an archangel gave it to her because she was his beloved.”

Had Aurora lost her mind? “That’s impossible.” No archangel would have fallen for a demi-goddess. That was as infeasible as an archangel falling for a
demon.

“Why is it impossible?” Aurora frowned. “It seems perfectly possible to me. And what’s more I bet she was pregnant with that archangel’s child before she left Earth, as well.”

Gabe had the insane urge to laugh out loud. “She couldn’t have been.” They would have known.
Surely they would have known.
“We only conceive with our beloveds.”

“Yes.” Aurora sounded as if they had already established that was what had happened. “It’s all making sense now, isn’t it?”

The denial choked in his throat. It wasn’t making any kind of sense at all. The offspring of gods were—had always been—exciting and enjoyable as lovers. But never anything more. Because at their core they regarded archangels as an anomaly of nature. A freak of creation. The physical manifestation of an Alpha goddess’s insatiable ego. They were the ultimate unwanted, bastard children of the original immortal pantheon.

A fuck was one thing. Falling was something else entirely.

But Aurora knew nothing of their history. She had simply heard the facts and drawn an obvious conclusion. A conclusion that might have eluded him, purely because of his own ingrained prejudices.

Was
it possible a Nephilim had been born in another galaxy, after the great destruction that had decimated Earth?

Could Evalyne—could Jaylar—be descendants of an archangel?

Aurora herself was proof that the impossible could happen. Who was he to say that bonds of eternal devotion had never existed between an archangel and demi-goddess?

He looked back at Jaylar. Scanned his aura. It was clear he possessed immortal heritage but after so long impossible to decipher. Gabe gripped Aurora’s fingers, as if she was his anchor in a rapidly disintegrating reality.

“Do you have your daughter’s necklace? I need it.”

“No.” Anguish seeped into Jaylar’s voice. “She was wearing it when she disappeared.”

So there was no way to prove whether it was genuine or simply another fake, like Aurora’s. But what were the chances that, after millennia, he would come across two fakes within days?

There was nothing else he could learn here. He jerked his head at Jaylar, tightened his grip on Aurora and teleported.

Home.

—

AS DAWN SLID
delicate ribbons of pink and peach into the bedroom, Aurora propped her head on her hand and gazed down at Gabe. He was sprawled on his front, the sheets tangled around his hips, and his back was clearly displayed.

The parallel scars that distorted his flesh, despite their obvious age, still looked as if they caused untold agony.

How had he lost his wings? Why hadn’t he been able to repair whatever dreadful injuries he’d sustained? Or didn’t archangels’ powers of rejuvenation extend to their wings?

Slowly she trailed her fingertips along the length of his back, perilously close to the deep gash, yet not quite touching the mangled flesh. Was the accident or attack that had injured him linked with the death of his beloved?

Stupid question. Of course it was. It had to be.

A dull pain cradled her heart. It was crazy and useless to be jealous of a woman who had been dead for thousands of years, and yet here she was. Envious of a love that could never be hers.

She braced her weight on her hand and leaned over him. The juxtaposition of perfectly sculpted muscle and bronzed, unblemished skin contrasted with the brutal slashes that had once ripped open his body. Instead of detracting from his beauty the imperfection only enhanced it. And at the same time made him seem, somehow, more human and less . . . immortal.

Tenderly, she pressed her lips against the knotted seam of flesh where, unknown millennia ago, his wings had been ripped from him. Her eyes drifted shut and in her mind she saw once again their glorious majesty. Yet the flecks of gold, which had highlighted each individual cream feather, had been so pretty. Delicate, even. Not majestic at all.

She knew, in her head, she was recalling the image she’d found in his office. But in her heart it was so much more. It was as if she could remember his wings herself. Could recall the feel of him wrapped around her. The exhilaration of him holding her as they flew through the skies while such incredible power and deceptive softness imbued each individual feather.

Her head sank lower and she breathed in deep, savoring the scent of sexual satisfaction, of elusive rainforests and the tantalizing hint of ages old familiarity. Was this how it began? The gradual erosion of the memories of her previous existence, until all she recognized was life with Gabe?

She wound her arm across his back, pressed her cheek against his scar. She couldn’t give up in her quest. She had to discover a way of safely returning to her life, for the sake of her parents.

But god. If not for them she would willingly take her chances in Gabe’s world. Take however many years she had, before her memories faded. Because she would make those years count. And maybe, unlike her mum, this time love really would be enough.

Even if it was only one-sided.

Gabe stirred, and she shoved her foolish thoughts into a dark corner of her mind. This morning they were going to follow up on the information Gabe had extracted from the pirate he’d interrogated, but it wasn’t quite morning. Not yet.

She molded her body to his as he rolled onto his back, her nipples grazing his chest as she stared down at him. His eyes were still closed, his breathing still even, and he looked like every fantasy lover she had ever dreamed of.

He was so achingly familiar. But she had known him for only four days. She had to remember that. She hadn’t known him all her life, no matter how the certainty slid with insidious intent through her senses.

Still bracing her weight on one hand she trailed her fingers along his jaw, over his lips. His body was hard beneath hers and she felt his cock stir against her thigh.

Stealthily, just in case he really was still asleep and not faking, she slid over him and trapped his hips between her knees. Palms spread on his chest she sank onto him and delicately caressed the length of his rapidly thickening cock with her damp sex.

Her clit ached with the delicious friction and she pressed down harder, tremors of pure delight racing straight into her trembling womb. She wanted him inside her, filling her, possessing her, but she wanted to prolong this moment of anticipation. The heady sensation of having Gabe, her beloved archangel, powerless beneath her while she tormented him with sensual pleasures.

A fantasy, for sure. But her lack of finesse didn’t seem to matter. Because already his heart thudded with a satisfyingly erratic rhythm and his breath was anything but even.

“You finished?” His voice was low, gravelly, insanely arousing.

“What makes you think that?” Thank god his eyes were still shut. Because she had the tragic certainty that if he could see her now, he would see just how much he meant to her.

“You stopped.” He finally cracked open one eye, long lashes concealing his expression from her. “I thought I should check. In case you needed some help.”

Slowly she slid down his length once again, her nails digging into his rigid pecs. “Think I can manage.”

His hands cradled her breasts, but his eyes meshed with hers. Slowly he slid his hands along her body, and everywhere he touched ribbons of flames ignited and smoldered beneath her sensitized skin.

“After last night I thought you’d sleep in.” His voice was uneven and he palmed her bottom, his grip hard and sure. “I was counting on you sleeping in.”

She bared her teeth, leaned into him and gently rubbed the tip of her nose over his. He had done that to her only once, and she never had to him. And yet the gesture seemed so intimately familiar.

“I know you were.” After they’d finally got to bed—and she doubted it had been more than three or four hours ago—he’d ravished her. No other word for it. But the way she felt right now, anyone would think she’d been without sex for years. “But tough luck. I’m going to the Fornax Galaxy with you today whether you like it or not.”

His fingers slid under her exposed bottom and trailed with tantalizing promise toward her aching clit. She panted into his face and raised her hips, and with a grin of triumph Gabe cupped her wet pussy.

“We’ll see.” He teased her swollen lips, dipped inside her slick sheath, and a moan of frustration rasped along her throat. They would see, but she had no intention of discussing it now.

She kissed him, open-mouthed, ravenous and demanding, and his grip on her butt tightened as his fingers penetrated deeper.
But not deep enough.
She wanted more, needed more, and only his magnificent cock would satisfy.

He massaged her tender flesh, probing deeper, angling his penetration and she squirmed, her teeth ripping his lower lip. He growled, a primal sound that vibrated in her mouth and through her veins, heightening the need and fueling the desire. The taste of his blood flayed her reason.