Downs, Jana - Angel Bound [His Guardian Angels 1] (Siren Publishing LoveXtreme Forever ManLove - Serialized) (14 page)

Cross hesitated but kept going. “Have you ever been in love?”

Raphael turned his back to Cross’s kneeling body. His red hair fell around his face like a veil. “Once.”

“Madigan’s mother?”

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Raphael laughed and turned his head just far enough to meet  Cross’s eyes. “No. Madigan’s mother and I joined for our mutual pleasure, and we’ve been friends ever since.”

“Who then, my lord?” Cross asked curiously. Raphael waved his hand in dismissal.

“Someone best forgotten. Tell my son I said congratulations on

your joining.”

* * * *

“Where is he?” Madigan demanded for the fiftieth time since  they’d all been awakened by Cross’s shout this morning. It was well  after noon, and there was still no sign of him. Dex massaged the  tension in Madigan’s shoulders. The younger man was fretting  needlessly.

“I felt the summons, Madigan. I promise you. He is with your  father,” Dex said for the hundredth time. Madigan had refused to eat  until he had “proof.”

“How do you know that?” Madigan demanded.

How to explain that he just “knew” things? As one of Archangel  Gabriel’s angels of death, he had a sixth sense that defied all logical  mandates. He had been connected to all of Madigan’s guardians since  they’d been bound together for Madigan’s protection, and the  remnants of the binding that they’d invoked last night had only  deepened his awareness of the other angels. He simply knew that  Cross was with Raphael and would be home soon. As soon as Cross  crossed into one plane from the In Between, he could reach out and  touch him mind to mind.

“I just know, Madigan. Please calm down.” Dex pressed a kiss to  Madigan’s neck. He was feeling extraordinarily affectionate today. It  had to have been last night that had done it. There was no other  explanation.

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He was surprised when Madigan leaned back into his touch. The nephilim was getting more and more comfortable with them. It was an incredible gift to touch and be touched in return without the necessity of a reason. Michel picked that moment to walk through the open doorway.

“I’ve checked the boundaries. All are secure. The hunters may have been flirting with the edges, checking the sanctuary, but they haven’t started testing the strength of the walls yet.” He sauntered right up to Madigan, who was perched on the edge of the barstool. He wouldn’t even sit at the kitchen table.

“Any sign of Cross?” Madigan asked predictably.

Michel smiled that crooked smile of his, his blue eyes sparkling.

“Still worried about Cross, eh?”

Madigan squirmed. “Yeah. A little. Dex says he’s fine, but I want to see for myself.” He shot Dex what the angel interpreted as an apologetic look over his shoulder. Dex just kissed the boy’s head.

“Well, if you don’t eat something before he gets back, he’s going to be pissed at the rest of us for not taking care of you,” Michel chastised gently.
 
Huh. Why didn’t I think of that
? It should’ve been an obvious solution to Madigan’s stubbornness. Granted, a guilt trip wasn’t normally a solution that Dex would employ, but if it got  Madigan to eat, then he was willing to use it. “Why don’t you let Dex fix you an egg omelet or something? You really liked his pancakes, and I bet he’s got more awesome recipes that he’d be willing to share for a price.” The angel waggled his eyebrows at Madigan, who blushed nicely. Dex felt his own cheeks heating. Michel was just like the Archangel Michael, incorrigible.

Madigan turned his head and looked up into Dex’s face. The angel readied himself for another argument and was surprised when the nephilim requested an egg, cheese, and spinach omelet instead. With

toast.

“Coming right up,” Dex murmured. He went to turn and walk

around the bar so that he could get into the fridge, but Madigan

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grabbed his arm. Cooking had been his secret passion since the  invention of the cooking channel, and he had been watching it for  twenty-plus years. Needless to say, he was very popular among other  angels in his choir. He’d learned a long time ago that a good hot meal  was the cure-all for the high stress that being an angel of death  invoked on a daily basis. He looked down at the hand that gripped  him. “What is it, Madigan? Do you want something else instead?”

Madigan shook his head, looking embarrassed, and tugged on  Dex’s collar. “Kiss me?” Dex felt a pang of happiness well up inside  him. He’d never had anyone express such a desire for his touch.  Though he’d had his share of angelic partners, there had always been  an understanding of the temporary nature of their joining. Madigan  was one he got to keep.

“Of course.” He leaned down and claimed Madigan’s lips, trying  to express without words what the simple gesture of desire meant to  him. It was so nice being wanted for more than his skills as an angel.  Their kiss deepened, and their tongues danced.

After an endless moment he drew back, breaking their kiss.  Madigan needed to eat, and Dex needed to get his head out of the  bedroom. At least for now. Madigan blinked, dazed. Dex couldn’t  resist ruffling his hair in affection. It was hard to believe they’d  known this intriguing creature for forty-eight hours.

“Is it always going to feel like this?” Madigan whispered as Dex  stepped around the bar and started digging into a cabinet under the  counter for some pans.

“Feel like what, Madigan?” Dex asked. Where did he put that  skillet he’d used yesterday to make pancakes? He hadn’t done the  dishes, so he had no idea. It wasn’t where it was originally…

“Three doors over, in the back,” Michel chimed in, reading his  mind.

“Will it always feel like I’m happily drowning whenever I’m

touching one of you?” Madigan answered Dex’s question finally.

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Dex popped his head above the counter to look at the nephilim. “I have no idea. I’ve never been joined before.”

“I hear pots banging. Is breakfast coming now?” Bren’s snarky voice called from the hallway.

“If you want me to fix you an omelet, you better play nice,” Dex replied, pointing a spatula at the other man as he came through the doorway.

“I’m always nice. Practically cooperative even,” Bren said as he slid his arms around Madigan from behind and gave him a tight hug.  “Hey, bright eyes. Hungry?”

Madigan sighed. “Michel said Cross would yell at you guys for my hunger strike if I hadn’t eaten by the time he gets back.”

The dark-haired angel snorted. “Nice, Michel.”

“I think I’m positively brilliant,” Michel snipped cheerfully.

Dex extricated the carton of eggs from the refrigerator as well as cheese, spinach, and milk. His life had certainly taken a path in a strange direction. This felt homey. It was odd considering they were all practically strangers. He glanced at the three other men in the room. He’d touched and been touched by them. Yet he didn’t feel awkward by the admission like he normally would have.

“You’re thinking naughty thoughts, Dexirus.” Yuri tsked. Where the hell he’d come from was anyone’s guess. The guy seemed to just pop into places out of nowhere. His strong arms wrapped around  Dex’s waist as he cracked some eggs into a large bowl and began to whisk. Yuri was almost as tall as he was, which was saying something considering Dex was well over six and a half feet.

“I am not thinking anything of the sort,” Dex murmured as Yuri leaned into his back and rubbed against him. Dex was intensely aware of Madigan’s small gasp of pleasure at the sight. The boy certainly loved to watch them touch each other.

“Liar.” Yuri bit his earlobe in punishment, causing the big angel

to growl.

“Stop that. Didn’t you get enough last night?”

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“Stop using him as a humping post, Yuri. We’ll never get  breakfast if you keep it up,” Bren protested.

Yuri laughed. “Don’t glare at me like that, Bren. I’m just showing  appreciation for Dex’s cooking skills.”

A snort sounded, probably Bren again. “I think we all know which  sort of Dex’s ‘skills’ you were showing appreciation for.”

“Madigan!” Yuri wailed, clutching Dex from behind even tighter  and snaking one hand southward to fondle him through the basketball  shorts he was wearing. Dex jumped. “Madigan, defend me!” The  drama Yuri put into that statement had Dex giving a deep chuckle of  amusement. Uriel’s angel was crazy.

“Yuri, leave him alone,” Madigan said, laughing. “I’m hungry.”

Yuri sighed and gave Dex’s neck another wet kiss. “I’m the only  one who appreciates you, Dex. Seriously. Remember this moment.”

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Chapter Fifteen

Bren was typically not one for hallmark moments, but this one was surreal. He sat at the bar holding Madigan in his lap, watching the human eat his omelet and exchange goo-goo eyes with his guardians.  He’d known his bright eyes was kinky, but this surpassed even Bren’s expectations. It was like they were some kind of family or something.

He felt rather than saw the portal open outside from the In  Between. Cross was back. A small niggle of resentment wormed its way into his mind, and he clutched Madigan’s waist more tightly. He had no problem sharing Madigan because it just seemed…right somehow. What he had a problem with was the way Cross acted like he wanted Madigan all to himself. Bren had never wanted anything like he wanted Madigan.

The first second Lord Lucifer had showed him the image of the nephilim he was supposed to guard, he’d been lost. The prospect of being this close to Madigan only to have Cross take him away was an idea that Bren simply couldn’t tolerate. He knew they were supposed to be all bonding together, but how could they bond when Bren distrusted Cross so much?

“Cross is back, Madigan,” Dex supplied before taking a deep gulp  out of his huge glass of orange juice. Madigan stopped midchew. The  sound of the front door slamming had Madigan hopping off of Bren’s  lap and taking off in the direction of the entrance. Bren sighed and  rose to follow. Sanctuary laws said that no immortal could enter who  hadn’t gotten express permission from the owner of the house or  Raphael, but Bren wasn’t taking any chances.

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He turned the corner just in time to see Madigan throw himself into the red-haired angel’s arms. Bren crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe. His heart tripped over itself. It was a beautiful sight to see even if Bren had such deep reservations about  Cross. Madigan scattered kisses across Cross’s face and clucked like a worried chicken over where Cross had gone and why he hadn’t said anything.
 
Blah. Blah. Blah
. Sappy didn’t come close to describing the

scene.

Cross’s eyes rose from Madigan’s face and met Bren’s gaze. A thrill went through Bren that annoyed the shit out of him. He didn’t want to feel anything when Cross looked at him. This bonding thing was bullshit.

“Bren,” Cross greeted, nodding his head in acknowledgement.

“What’d your lord want?” Bren demanded, ignoring the  tenderness he felt growing inside him.

Cross shrugged. That meant everything and nothing and both.  Bren rolled his eyes.
 
What the hell?
 
“He said to tell Madigan  congratulations on our joining. He’s happy that Madigan is going to  have a congregation of strong men to take care of him.”

“Don’t you mean that Raphael was happy that his son hooked up  with one of
 
his
 
angels?” Bren sneered. “That sounds much more

realistic.”

Cross frowned. “What’s with the attitude, Bren? I just walked through the door. Can you give me a break?”

“Sure. Whatever. This is me giving you a break.” Bren turned and stomped up the stairs. Anger, resentment, and worry were practically rolling off of him in waves. Raphael probably called Cross to tell him how to get rid of the other angels who’d mated his son. No way could the Archangel be okay with Madigan joining with, not only multiple partners, but partners from different choirs. It just wasn’t done. Even among angels, they stayed with their own.

He found his way into the bathroom and started the water for the shower. He’d always loved running water. It cleared his mind like

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nothing else, made him relax when the tension in his shoulders and  back became almost unbearable. Too bad the shower wasn’t big  enough for him to have his wings out. The slice of water from a  showerhead felt incredible on his feathers. It also made them

waterlogged, but Bren couldn’t find it in himself to complain even  when he was grounded for several hours because of it.

A soft knock sounded on the door. “Bren, it’s me.” Madigan’s soft  inquiry came out muffled through the wood of the door.

“I’m just grabbing a shower, Madigan. Go finish breakfast,” Bren  replied loud enough for Madigan to hear. He stepped through the  curtain and into the spray. He tilted his head back and groaned as the  jets caressed his scalp. He heard the creak of the knob turning and  knew Madigan wasn’t listening to him.