Guardian Demon (GUARDIAN SERIES) (30 page)

“Yes,” Michael agreed. “That fits.”

Okay. Even Taylor could see that. She took a breath, got the anger under control. Leaning forward in her chair, she studied Irena’s threads again.

Uncertain, she lifted a hand. “Is it okay if I touch?”

“Just don’t pull.”

“I got that.”

One of Irena’s bright threads waved near Taylor’s leg. With just her forefinger, she gingerly reached out.

Joy burst through her mind. Unadulterated joy, surrounded by warmth and comfort and love. Taylor gasped, tears springing to her eyes. She heard the indrawn breaths around her, saw Irena’s tears.

She made herself draw her hand away. Michael stared down at her, eyes shining with warm amber light.

“Did you feel that? Did you feel that through my shields?”

His body was completely rigid, she saw. Except for his hands. They shook.

That stunned her more than anything else she’d seen that day.

He drew a long breath, finally nodded. “I heard it.”

“What was it? Do you know? Have you heard it before?”

“Yes,” he said. “Gabriel sang the same song once.”

An angel had? “Can
you
sing it?”

“No. It is the only song that I cannot. I haven’t the voice.”

“It was beautiful,” Charlie whispered hoarsely. She was crying into her hands. Drifter had his arms around her—and he was looking a little gobsmacked, too.

Everyone was. Except for two.

Lilith looked to Hugh. “I think we missed something.”

No psychic senses. Taylor didn’t know if she’d projected what she’d felt or if her touch had just released it. She glanced at Irena again. Her threads were mostly bright, but the other color was there, too. “Can I try the red?”

“I will kill you if you do not.”

That was a yes. Grinning, Taylor reached for the thread.

Agony. Horror. Despair.

She yanked her hand back, throat locked against a scream.

“I know that,” Ash said. Her face had paled. “That was Hell.”

Oh, no. The implications of that battered against Taylor skull, but she wouldn’t let them in. Didn’t want to let them in.

But she knew why Michael’s threads were dark. If she touched them, it would be hunger, destruction. It would be Chaos.

She didn’t want this. Taylor pushed off the Gift, let her vision return to normal. She didn’t want to be able to
see
this. Not in the people she knew. Not in the people she didn’t know.

But she couldn’t escape it.

“So you see whether our souls are tied to Heaven or Hell,” Lilith said. “And right now, I’m at half and half.”

Taylor closed her eyes. Her voice was rough. “A little more on the bright side.”

“That’s a relief. And a bit of a surprise. So what happens if you yank these threads?”

“I’m not going to test it.”

“Let’s assume Khavi’s right, then. You can kill people this way. Essentially tearing their soul from their body.”

Jesus.
Taylor shook her head. How had she ended up with this? How was this a reflection of her life?

“I think it is more than that.” Michael’s harmonious voice slipped around her. Warm, as if trying to comfort her—or shield her against his next words. “She can likely choose which thread to pull, determine whether to send them to Heaven or Hell. This will not just allow her to kill—this Gift allows her to judge.”

To judge? Horror crawled through her chest, stopped every response in her throat. That was not what she was. That was not
who
she was. That was everything she’d tried
not
to be.

Irena offered a feral grin. “Then you can judge all the demons you like.”

“Yes.” Michael sounded as fiercely satisfied. “She could slay them as soon as they approached her, even if she held no weapons. No demon who knew of this Gift would dare come close to her.”

How could
anyone
dare to come close to her? How could
she
dare to be close to anyone else? Taylor had seen other novices with their Gifts. They were unpredictable. It only took one moment to be startled, to be caught unaware, and her Gift might manifest—and anyone next to her might die because of one unintended swipe of her hand.

Not just die.
She might send them to Hell.

“But you told us that demons were completely bright,” Ash said. “They go to Heaven?”

Jake shook his head. “That can’t be right. Ash, yeah. It makes sense that she’s bright, because she’s practically a brand-new soul. But demons? If Lilith is half and half, they should be full red.”

“So you know how it works?” Lilith arched her brows. “Demons are former angels. Maybe being a demon is their punishment for their rebellion, and then they are called home. And that would explain where all of the demons who vanished from the frozen field went. The humans and halflings in Hell have to be burned in the Pit first. But maybe demons just go straight back to Heaven.”

“I reckon Belial would love to know that,” Drifter said.

“No, he would not,” Michael said. This time there was no fierce satisfaction in him. Only worry. “Because if his demons knew this, they would not need Belial to lead them back to Heaven. He wouldn’t want anyone in Hell to know you have this power.”

Then it was already too late. “Khavi knows I do.”

His eyes darkened. “Then let us hope she has kept it secret.”

Just before seven o’clock, Taylor teleported with Michael to her mother’s place. Once again, he slipped his forearm around her waist and drew her closer to him than necessary. Once again, she didn’t pull away. And when the spinning ended, she was in the corner of her bedroom clinging to his arms, and Michael’s heart was pounding.

Her breath stopped.

Michael looked down at her, his eyes shining with amber light. His big hands slowly curved down over her backside.

She should have protested. She should have pushed him away. But when he lifted her off the floor, her hands rose from his carved biceps to his shoulders, his skin hot beneath her grip. And when his palm slid under her right thigh and hooked her knee over his hip, the thought of everything she should have done fled.

From his taut muscles to the set of his jaw, Michael was always hard. But this time, the rest of him was hard, too.

His rigid length rose between them. His strong hands guiding her hips, he settled her directly over the base of his erection. Taylor stiffened, surprise and sudden need tightening her leg around him, pulling him closer. Her fingers clenched on heavy muscle, her breath starting again on a sharp inhalation.

“Andromeda.” The glow in Michael’s eyes flared and he sagged back against the wall, as if his legs wouldn’t support him. “It has been . . . a very long time . . . since I’ve experienced this.”

Maybe he hadn’t sagged, then. Maybe he’d just come close to fainting after the blood rushed to his cock for the first time in millennia.

Taylor struggled to spark up a bit of sense. “It’s not exactly a new feeling, though.”

“Yes, it is,” he said, his voice gruff. “The need has never been this deep—and it has
never
felt this good.”

For her, either. The arousal in his voice was a shiver over her skin, a flick of his tongue over the tips of her breasts, a longer lick through the heat between her legs. She needed to push him away. But she could only feel that heavy shaft against her, could only think that he’d wanted to watch her responses—and she wanted to see his, too.

Her thigh flexed against his side. Slowly, she rose up, dragging a moan from his chest, a harmonic rumble that teased her nipples to sensitive points. And up, his fingers tightening on her ass, pressing her harder against him and tilting her pelvis just right, so that every inch was an agonizing pleasure against her clit.

And up.

Oh, God. Her eyes were almost level with his when she stopped, the thick head of his cock lodged against her entrance.

Darkness surrounded them, a whisper of feathers. His wings folded around her, shutting out the rest of the world. His gaze was obsidian but there was still a bright light, a warm blue shining across the sculpted angles of his jaw, the planes of his face. And she’d wanted to see his response but, until this moment, she’d been blinded by her own need. Now she saw his rigid tension, felt the ragged rise and fall of his chest. A tremor shook through Michael’s arms as he held her against him, unmoving.

Waiting for her.

Heat coiled deep inside. Only a few layers of cotton prevented her from feeding the needy ache that demanded to be filled. She could vanish her trousers and take his thick length in, then push all the way back down.

She tried to remember why she shouldn’t.

“I am yours, Andromeda.” His hunger burned against her shields, roughened his voice. “If you want me, take me. I am yours.”

If
she wanted him? Her gaze fell to his mouth, so close to hers. God, yes. She wanted him. So much.

And she would be stupid to kiss him, but her fingers were curving around the back of his neck anyway, fingertips sliding into the short, short hair that should have been coarse but was like thick silk, too short to grab a handful so that she could hold him steady for her mouth, too short to tug when the need took over.

Too short to leave him vulnerable—but she could still hurt him with a single pull. And considering her Gift, she shouldn’t be pulling
anything
.

Taylor froze. Caution urged her to yank her hands away, but yanking could kill. Slowly, she drew her fingers back, let them rest on his shoulders.

“I want you to let me down,” she said and hated that she couldn’t manage anything stronger than a raw whisper.

Michael’s eyes closed and he nodded, but though his hands lowered her to the ground he didn’t immediately let her go. His fingers curled around her nape. He held her still, drawing in a long breath against her hair. The rise and fall of his chest stopped.

His wings vanished. Taylor quickly stepped away, then halted when she caught sight of the mirror hanging over her closet door.

Her eyes were glowing. Just a soft blue now, but only a few seconds earlier, she knew that they’d been shining like headlamps.

A Guardian’s eyes did that when she couldn’t suppress her deepest emotions. Why couldn’t that emotion have been anger? She wanted it to be anger. Anything but this needy frustration.

And why was she feeling it, anyway? She knew what Michael was doing. That whole “I’m sorry I hurt you so I’ll make it better by fucking you” thing, even though he didn’t care about sex for himself. So what the hell was rubbing up and down his giant erection all about? Because it wasn’t making anything better. It just made everything in her head more confusing, more screwed up.

She turned back. He stood watching her with a stark expression that she couldn’t read but might have been hope or pain. Given the state that she’d left him in, that
she
was still in, probably pain. Yet so beautiful despite that. From his bare feet to his massive chest to the goddamned hair that had reminded her why he was such a bad idea.

And here was a little bit of the anger she needed. “You have to stop this. No more of
that
.”

She gestured to his groin, where the loose drape of linen didn’t conceal the thick column of his arousal.

Michael sighed. “It isn’t intentional.”

“Bullshit. It has to be. You told me that sex doesn’t tempt you. That it doesn’t do anything for you.”

“It hasn’t for many years. But the thought of being with you does.” His firm mouth curved into a slow smile. “And feeling you against me does even more.”

Apparently. And it did a hell of a lot for Taylor, too. Unless— “Are you
making
me feel this?”

His face hardened, smile vanishing. “I deserve your distrust. But don’t lie to yourself, Andromeda.”

“Is that a ‘no’?”

“Yes. I would never force that on you again.”

Taylor didn’t want to believe him. But she realized it was true. At least this time. Her shields had been strong. This need was all her own.

Everything would have been so much easier if it wasn’t.

She tore her gaze away from him, forcing the memory of how he’d felt to the back of her mind. If only she could just get rid of it. But she couldn’t, so she’d focus on something else.

She’d focus on why she was here. “I’m going to have dinner with my mom and Joe. Are you coming, too?”

He regarded her steadily. “That is your choice.”

So that she could get away from him if she wanted to. But there probably wouldn’t be any point in it. “If I tell you to go away, are you just going to wait outside somewhere, protecting me?”

“Yes.”

And then she’d just feel guilty and inhospitable. “Stay, then. My mom likes you, anyway.”

“I like her as well.”

“That’s because only an asshole wouldn’t.”

“Then I am not?”

Shit. But she refused to backtrack. Better to just ignore. His laugh followed her into the hall. The scent of garlic and tomato led her to the kitchen, where her mom stirred sauce on the stove. Joe sat at the table, a stack of files piled in front of him.

Her mother’s face brightened when she turned and saw them. “Oh! I don’t know why I expected you to come through the front door.”

“Michael thinks my room is a landing pad.” Careful to keep her fingers fisted, Taylor gave her a hug, then snagged an olive from the relish bowl. “But I’ll use the door from now on.”

Or get her own place when Joe moved in.
If
Joe moved in. He had a little two-bedroom house about a half mile away. Maybe her mom would prefer to go there with Jason instead.

“Don’t be silly. You can land wherever you like.” She looked to Michael, and a cute little flush pinkened her cheeks. “Are you staying? Andy, set another place. Don’t mind all the files, Michael. They’ll be gone soon enough.”

“We have a rule,” Taylor said, opening the cupboard. “No murder around the table at the same time there’s food on it.”

“I don’t mind. But I won’t need a plate.” Apology filled his voice. “I don’t eat.”

Frowning, Taylor glanced back at him. “Her spaghetti is better than hellhound, I promise.”

“I believe it,” he said softly. “But after I taste something that I enjoy, it’s difficult to stop.”

Oh. The dragon part of him. And thinking back, she couldn’t remember ever seeing Michael consume anything while in this form. Just demons and hellhounds in Hell.

She glanced at her mom as Joe got to his feet, extending his hand for Michael to shake. Her mother looked slightly uncertain, as if wondering whether to invite him to eat everything.

Taylor touched her arm. “It’s okay. He’s just still full from his last trip to Hell. He ate a million demons.”

Her mother’s admonishing expression hadn’t changed since Taylor was six. “Andy.”

“It’s true.” Spotting a bottle of red wine open near the fridge, she reached for the glasses. “And the demons are all covered in scales, so it was probably a lot like a fish fry.”

That earned her a flick from a dish towel across her butt. But when she turned back, her mom’s laugh was already fading into concern. “We heard that your friends were taken. Have you heard any news?”

“Not yet.” She poured the wine, trying not to think about how little they knew and how close to sunset it was. Colin had probably spent the day going through hell. In just over an hour, Savi would be waking up and joining him. “That’s why we’re here. Well, and because of you and Joe. But— Shit. I don’t want to ruin this by bringing work home again. I’m sorry.”

Her mother’s brows drew together. “You didn’t. Of course they are a priority. So go on over and talk. I haven’t even started boiling the noodles, so you have time. And if you need more time, dinner will keep.”

She turned back to the stove. Shaking her head, Taylor scooped up two glasses and headed for the table. Really, it was no surprise that Joe had fallen for her mom. It would have only been a surprise if he hadn’t.

Michael stood beside Joe’s chair, looking down at the photos Joe had spread out. Taylor pressed the wineglass into Michael’s hand.

“You don’t have to drink it,” she said softly. “I’m just making it less weird for everyone. My mom will feel better if you have something.”

“Thank you,” he said, and she knew that it wasn’t for the wine. He hadn’t enjoyed making her mother feel awkward.

She wished she didn’t like him so much for that. “Now tell me you aren’t going to tower over us, watching us all while we eat.”

“I’ll sit. But not before you do.”

Well, then. Since Joe had a beer sweating in front of him, she kept the other wineglass for herself and claimed the seat to Joe’s left. A familiar spot. They’d done this plenty of times when she’d been human—looking over a case they were working, trying to see what they’d missed, what fit. And even though this was the first time someone had worn a toga to her dinner table, having Michael here felt familiar, too. Normal. Maybe because he’d been in her head for so long. Now he was just here in the flesh.

All of that hard, gorgeous flesh.
I am yours, Andromeda.

Taylor gulped her wine and turned her attention to the photos. “So what have you got?”

“I don’t know that I’ve got anything. Partially because we haven’t been going on a lot. Here they are. The first one was sixteen months ago. The latest was three months ago.”

Joe pushed seven photos in front of her. They were just as he’d described earlier. Six men, one woman. Four Caucasian, two African American, one Asian. Taylor couldn’t spot any immediate similarity in their clothing, their surroundings.

She peered closer at their throats. Bruising consistent with strangulation on the first three, and consistent with a forceful turn of the head on the others. But where were the puncture wounds?

“You have the ME’s photos? Were there any teeth marks?”

“Not a one.”

“But they were low on blood?”

“They were. Not much. About a pint, consistently. The ME couldn’t find the location of the wound.”

Taylor frowned. “How does that work?”

“The vampires used their blood to heal the bite marks first,” Michael said.

“But doesn’t that take about an hour?” The bleeding would stop immediately, but there was also tissue damage from the fangs and bruising when a vampire started sucking. “He hung around for an hour before killing them?”

“Perhaps it was worth the time taken to conceal his activity from us.”

Because SI and the Guardians would have picked up on this a lot quicker. And if the vampires were associated with the sentinels, it fit the demons’ intentions to conceal their involvement, too. But that was a jump ahead of herself. There might be a connection between these murders and Brandt. She couldn’t start assuming involvement right away, though.