Downs, Jana - Angel Bound [His Guardian Angels 1] (Siren Publishing LoveXtreme Forever ManLove - Serialized) (7 page)

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” he asked defiantly. The dark-haired angel  raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow and grinned. It wasn’t a nice  grin. It was a grin that said he knew all of Madigan’s dirty secrets and  was not above using them as blackmail.

“Because if you go downstairs smelling like sex and sporting a  hard-on you’re going to cause a fight. There is no way four warriors  wouldn’t tear each other apart to get to an aroused nephilim ready to  fuck. Trust me. Our civilized instincts only go so far.”

Madigan blushed to the roots of his red hair. “Y–You seem to be  doing just fine,” he stammered. Two long strides brought Bren to the  edge of his bed, and he leaned down over Madigan, crowding him, his  mouth inches from Madigan’s lips.

“Don’t push me, nephilim. I’m holding on by a thread as is.” Bren  crossed the last few centimeters between them and claimed Madigan’s  mouth in a surprisingly gentle kiss. Madigan couldn’t help the little  mewling noise that escaped him as he got a taste of the angel. He  tasted clean and sweet. Madigan’s hands crept up his shoulders,  threading through the dark locks of hair that was cut just long enough  for him to get a handhold. They stayed that way for endless moments,  their lips pressing and sliding against one another. His tongue darted  out along Bren’s lips, trying to coax the angel into a deeper kiss.

Bren jerked back, panting. “Damn, bright eyes. You test an  angel’s patience.” He adjusted himself. That erection looked painful.  It probably didn’t feel good pressed up against the hard metal teeth of  the zipper. Madigan licked his lips. Bren cursed. “You’re going to be  trouble. You know that?
 
Big
 
trouble.” He turned, presenting his back  to the human. “For the sake of your virtue and my blue balls, please  get dressed.”

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Madigan threw his legs over the side of the bed and looked at  Bren’s back. It took him a minute to figure out what was wrong.

“Holy crap. Where are your wings?” He crossed the room and put his hands on the black tattoo that covered his back instead. It looked

like it was written in some sort of Arabic script or something, but he  couldn’t be sure. Bren hissed at the contact and jerked his shoulder  out of Madigan’s hands.

“That is equivalent to you letting me fuck that tight mouth of  yours. Stop it,” Bren snapped. He was shaking. Was he really that  close to losing control? Madigan swayed closer. It would be a  gorgeous sight to watch Bren out of control. He was so strong. So  virile. Madigan bet he’d be sore for days after a pounding from him.  Bren let out a strangled noise. “I can smell you getting more aroused.  Madigan, think about it. You don’t even like me. You sure as hell  don’t know me. You sure you want me balls-deep inside of you?  Think with something other than your dick, bright eyes.”

Madigan blinked, blushing. Embarrassment overwhelmed lust,  and he scrambled backward, nearly tripping over the clothes he’d  thrown off the night before. He pulled on his jeans without bothering  with underwear and pulled on a shirt that had been sitting beside his  the lamp on his nightstand. It was obviously three sizes too big but  whatever. He frowned and sniffed the shirt. It smelled like detergent  and angel. His eyes shot to Bren’s still-turned back. It smelled like  him.

“The wings go away when we don’t need them. The glyphs on our  backs were put there by our archangels so that we can hide them from  humans when we’re corporeal.” The explanation seemed to be a way  for Bren to fill the silence. He was still tense and trembling. Madigan  ached to go to him and take away that tension. He wanted to wrap  himself around like a living blanket, but that wasn’t logical. Bren was  right. He didn’t know him, and he didn’t really like him. So why did  he feel the urge to go there?

“You decent?” Bren asked after a few minutes of silence.

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“Yeah,” Madigan said. He was still battling with his impulse to go  the angel, but it was getting easier as the seconds ticked by. Bren  turned, and his eyes widened as he took in Madigan’s outfit. Wings  sprang from his back, and his nostrils flared. Madigan took a step  back in fear. “What did I do?” he asked in confusion.

“Go, Madigan.” Bren spat through gritted teeth. “Go while you  can.” He looked like he was in pain. Madigan frowned and stepped  toward the angel. Maybe something was wrong. “No!” Bren shouted,  backpedaling into the wall. It shook with the force of the angel hitting  it. “Just, God, go, bright eyes. You’re wearing my clothes.” He shut  his eyes and clenched his jaw. “You don’t understand. Please, just  go.” Madigan was starting to get freaked out by the desperate note in  Bren’s voice. Without another word, he ran to the door and slammed

it behind him, taking off toward the kitchen. The sound of something  smashing up against the door and an inhuman snarl followed him  downstairs. What the hell had just happened? It wasn’t until he took  the corner and swung into the kitchen that he realized something.  Bren had called him “bright eyes” just like in his dream.

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Chapter Six

Bren locked himself in the bathroom adjacent to the boy’s bedroom, trying to calm himself. He hadn’t meant to lose it like that.  He certainly hadn’t meant to scare the living daylights out of  Madigan. He sighed and looked at himself in the mirror. He had a wild look in his pitch-black eyes, and his tanned muscles were smeared with a light sheen of sweat. This was all his fault, of course.  He never should’ve gone into Madigan’s dream uninvited.

A few hours into his rest Madigan had started making little noises in his sleep and shifting restlessly beneath the covers. Bren had suspected that the boy might have been having a nightmare, so he’d just walked into his dream world, prepared to fight whatever bad dreams that he was experiencing. He’d hoped to make up for his bad attitude a little bit by playing the hero that Cross was oh so good at playing. The noble idiot hid behind his mountain of morality better than anyone Bren had ever met. They were complete opposites in that regard, but Madigan reacted far better to the noble Cross than to  Bren’s naturally snarky persona.

It seemed fated that Madigan and Cross would hit it off. The both exuded Raphael’s comforting presence whether they realized it or not.  Madigan’s mom might’ve been more right than she realized when she’d voiced that Raphael might be playing matchmaker. It had pissed  Bren off to see them cuddled up in the cavern like that. The rest of them hadn’t even had a chance, and God knew that Lucifer’s choir got the least amount of chances for happiness out of all the choirs.

When his lord had asked for volunteers to go guard Raphael’s son,  Bren had not been keen on going. Then Lucifer had touched the

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dream pool and brought up an image of the beautiful man who the  Archangel Raphael had sired.

Madigan had taken his breath away, and Bren had made himself a  pledge that he’d make the man his.

He’d been a bastard last night, and he knew it. He just wasn’t  good at hiding what he was feeling like any of the others. Even  Michel, the prick, had been able to resist his impulses to mount  Madigan when they were flying together. The boy didn’t seem to  realize the intense waves of “fuck me” he was throwing off.

Against his better judgment, Bren had followed him into the  dream world, and what he saw there gave him some hope. Madigan  was not nearly as rigid and mainstream as Bren had first thought. He  was free and uninhibited and so damn sexual he’d nearly come from  the look in the boy’s eyes right then.

He hadn’t been surprised by the fact that Cross had been between  his legs in Madigan’s fantasy. But he’d been absolutely shocked when  Madigan had incorporated the rest of them into his lovemaking.

Bren hadn’t expected to enjoy himself quite as much as he had  when he’d gone in there. He even found himself appreciating the  other angels’ beauty along with Madigan as they’d sought their  mutual satiation together. It had been wonderful and awful all at once  because he knew that it would never happen in reality.

“You need to get it together, Brenen,” he told his reflection. “He  is off-limits. You do not want an Archangel on your ass for jumping  his son’s.” But he’d been so responsive. So damn hot for them. For  him. Even after he’d woke. Bren had seen the struggle to remain away  had been as strong as the urge to bolt. That torn expression had worn  on his control faster than anything.

He pushed his jeans down his hips and kicked out of them. He  needed a little relief. Orgasming in a dream was not enough for him.  Angels were the masters of the multiple O, and Bren would need at  least one more before he was truly able to relax. He turned the knob  on the shower and adjusted the temperature to something steamy. He

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climbed in and leaned back into the spray. It felt good. He wrapped

his hand around his turgid length.
 
Hmm
…now it felt better.

* * * *

“Bren.” Michel’s voice made him tense as he came out of the

bathroom with a towel wrapped around his hips.
 
Great
. This was just  what he needed. There had always been a tension between the  Archangel Michael’s angels and the lord Lucifer’s angels ever since  the fall. It was no different between Michel and Bren.

“What do you want?” Bren asked crossly. He didn’t want to deal  with him today. At all. Ever.

“Are you okay?” Michel’s inquiry surprised him. What did
 
he
 
care?

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” Bren replied. He was suspicious of  any of the angels who were being nice to him. Michel most of all.  Michel’s glittering, blue eyes regarded him, judged him.

“Madigan said you were acting strangely before he came down to  breakfast. He’s worried about you.”

Bren’s heart tripped over itself. Really? He was worried about  him?

“I told him I’d come check on you,” Michel finished. He paused  for a minute as if debating with himself. “It was his scent, wasn’t it?”

Bren’s head snapped up, his dark eyes clashing with Michel’s  light ones. “Yeah,” he said tightly.

Michel nodded. “He smells like sex and forbidden fruit.” He

shuddered visibly, and Bren couldn’t help but to agree completely.  “He’s wearing your shirt. Smells like you. Was that the trigger?”

Again Bren nodded. He lost it when Madigan had put his clothes  on, marking himself with Bren’s scent. It was an old possessive  instinct that had demanded instant satisfaction when he’d done so. If

he would’ve touch Bren, even with his fingertips, the angel wouldn’t

have been able to deny the impulse to fuck the nephilim stupid.

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Michel’s hand patted his shoulder in a friendly manner. “You did good denying him, Bren.” Bren raised an eyebrow. Was Michel complimenting him? “I didn’t know if it was a good idea to have one of Lucifer’s on this mission with us, but I do now. You protected him even from yourself. I don’t know if I would’ve said no in the same situation. So, good job.”

“You would’ve denied yourself,” Bren protested in the only manner he knew how. He wasn’t good at exchanging compliments. It just wasn’t done in his choir.

Michel chuckled. “I doubt it, my man. I almost lost it when he came down to breakfast, and he wasn’t even sexed up anymore.”

The hand that had been on Bren’s shoulder slid up to stroke his hair. He and Michel were the same height, so looking into each other’s eyes had the strangest dizzying effect on Bren. He liked being petted like this. It was his biggest weakness. He loved having someone run their fingers through his hair. His heart pounded. What was wrong with him today? His eyes flicked to Michel’s pulse. Was it a little faster than it was a moment ago? He swallowed hard, suddenly aware that he was in nothing but a towel. Which was ridiculous because angels weren’t typically that freaked out by nudity. It was their natural state after all.

Michel snatched his hand back, and just like that the tension broke. Michael’s angel cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Sorry. I guess he’s affecting me more than I realize. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you downstairs.”

“Sure,” Bren replied automatically as Michel turned away. Today

couldn’t get any stranger. And it had just started.

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Chapter Seven

Madigan began washing dishes as soon as all the angels had finished eating. He’d put aluminum foil over Bren’s pancakes and stuck them in the microwave to keep until he made his way downstairs. He’d heard the shower shut off upstairs, but it would still probably be a while if he was anything like Madigan.

He was still in disbelief over the fact that he was going to be playing house with a bunch of angels until one of them figured out how to give him proper protection. He rinsed another white plate and set it in the drainer to dry.

“Need some help?” Cross asked as he sidled up beside Madigan at the sink. Madigan gave the angel a smile.

“Sure,” he answered. He reached in a drawer and extricated a