Ivory Guard (7 page)

Raz moved to stand in the grassy backyard and motioned for her to follow him while suddenly a sword appeared in his other hand, the blade of which
was broader and longer than her own. He looked rather magnificent and absolutely lethal with it. The angel of death. Yeah, she could see who might have given cause for such a name.

“Let’s see how you move with it.”

Without any other word of warning he came at her.

For one terrifying moment Lillian stood motionless
, staring at Raz, but then something inside her took over. With fluid movements she took her stance, quick on her feet, and blocked his attack. Eyes wide she stared at him with the sharp whisper of steel the only sound between them. Raz broke away and took a step back.

“What the hell?” Lillian stared down at her hand as if she didn’t, or couldn’t, recognize it as being a part of her.
The hand that had just gotten a mind of its own and pulled some – admittedly awesome – Hollywood movie stunt.

“That was the Ivory in you.
You kinda opened your file regarding universal knowledge about sword fighting. Call it part of your genetic make-up.”

“For real?”
He didn’t bother to answer that. “I
knew
this stuff would have an upside.”

“With the stuff I assume you mean our training which isn’t finished?
”

Again, without warning, he attacked.

As her body danced to block and attack in return, the utter thrill of it had a bubble of excited laughter escaping her. “So why bother with the training?”

“Because your brain might know what to do now, but your muscles don’t.” As if to pro
ve his point he attacked again, moving so fast she didn’t react in time, stumbled and fell.

But e
ven knowing that her untrained muscles would be screaming at her for the sudden abuse tonight couldn’t wipe the smile from her face. This part was actually fun. And in the heat of the burning sun she had to admit she liked seeing Raz move, swift and strong and perfectly balanced. Frightening in his potential of violence and yet absolutely compelling in his predatory elegance. Muscle corded in his arms, shoulders and back - everything about him was a treat for the eyes. And finding herself the lone focus of his fierce, gray gaze, she knew the thrilling tug in her belly could only spell trouble, but luckily the rhythm of the fight kept her from dwelling too long on that thought.

She couldn’t say how much time had passed
or how often she had landed with her behind on the ground after her sense of balance had failed her, when Raz stepped back and finally signaled a break. Rubbing her hip where a nice bruise would probably bloom soon, she sat down on the porch steps. “You sure you aren’t the angel of discipline or some such?”

“Yeah
, pretty much. He’s my brother.”

Of course
.

“
Heh. Could have fooled me.” She wiggled her finger at him. “Ha. I saw that.”

The man
could rant about her witty comments all he liked but she had noticed the small twitch in the corner of his mouth.

W
hile being here making that scowling man flash his dimple had somehow started to become her new mission.

EIGHT

After two days of training her muscles were an aching mess, even the simple movement of chopping an onion too much for her arm. But she was in charge of dinner and at least her head was able to relax. As the mellow sounds of big band music drifted to her from the living room, she had to shake her head. If she had learned one thing about Raz it was regarding his taste in music, it didn’t know any boundaries. Country, techno, celtic music, punk, cabaret, opera…the list went on and on.

“What is it?
” He had obviously seen her reaction as he strolled into the kitchen.

“Nothing.
I was just wondering about your taste in music. There seems to be nothing you don’t listen to.”

Raz
lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “Humans have created too many beautiful songs to settle on one particular genre. Whether techno or opera, it doesn’t matter, as long as it has that certain edge, that something that makes it more. You just have to be able, or simply in the mood, to listen to it.” He came to stand beside her, peering into the pan where she was now frying chicken breasts stuffed with apple, onions and some rosemary she had found outside. “That looks good.”

She could scent him, soap and man, and the combination
of it with the heat from the stove and his body had her swallowing. “Thanks. It’ll be ready soon.”

When he moved away to set the table Lillian sighed with relief but
also noticed the pang of regret inside of her. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye she knew that developing feelings of any sort for the angel probably wasn’t a good idea. From what she knew angels weren’t really into anything that exceeded neighborly love; but then again Raz had proven that he wasn’t a lot of things she had imagined angels to be. Her gaze traveled the length of his body, resting on his hands. Would they be callous from his sword? Mentally slapping herself, she stopped and shook her head to clear it. Get a grip and, really, don’t go there, she chided herself.

Dinner went over fairly qui
et since both of them eagerly dove in.

“That was really good
, especially given the fact that I don’t recall us buying anything that could sum up to something this tasty. Where did you learn to cook like this?”

A stab of pain pierced her heart.
“My mom.”

“You don’t have that very often nowadays, mothers who show their daughters how to cook.
One more tradition falling victim to fast food culture.” He got up, carrying his plate to the sink.

“
Yeah, probably.” The ache intensified, almost taking her breath away. She missed her parents. Had never missed them so much. She stayed seated, running her nail along a fissure in the table. “Hey Raz, you think I could see my parents sometime?”

“
No.”

At his sharp answer she bit her lip and turned her head away trying to fight the tears that were thr
eatening behind her eyes. Lillian heard him turn around, felt his eyes on her, but didn’t look up.

Shit. Why did he have to be so harsh? Might
as well have screamed like an army officer. Damn it. He pinched the bridge of his nose and then let his arm drop to the side.

“I’m sorry.
”

Lillian got up. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t and he knew it, so he tried to explain, “We can’t risk it at the moment. But…they’re safe.” That made her look at him, with those beautiful eyes searching his. Now completely gray thanks to purgatory, they were full of heart and soul and pain he didn’t want there. “I checked.”

Closing her eyes for a moment she visibly relaxed, her body very nearly sighing with relief, before she said,
“Thank you, Raz.”

When she moved towards the sink,
he reached out to touch her arm and was unsettled by how aware his body suddenly was, feeling every finger touching her warm skin. “No, leave it be.” He turned to grab one of the beers he had in stock and handed her the bottle. “Drink this and relax. I’ll take care of the dishes.” When she opened her mouth he warned, “If I hear anything about an angel inciting you to underage drinking, my offer’s off the table.”

“You said it, not me.”

At least it had gotten a grin out of her, even if small. It hadn’t been intended but he had to admit he liked the sight and feel of it. “Go.”

He heard her walk into the living room while he attacked the dishes.
The faint click of his lighter let him know that she was lighting the candles since night was quickly settling and then she changed the music to classic rock again, something he didn’t mind to clear his head.

The girl was different from his other students.
Fearless. The others had shrank away from his scowl and done what he asked without thinking twice about it. She challenged him with her sharp mind and thirst for knowledge. And he liked the oh-so witty comments, liked teasing her into making more of those. That was new as well and he didn’t know how to handle that, or even if he needed to handle that. Was it really bad to have some fun while training as long as the lessons were learned?

The first
two weeks passed in a flash. The two of them quickly developed a rather comfortable routine in Lillian’s new world of clashing swords and aching muscles – oh, and music, of course. She was finally able to move her wings and was getting better with the sword, could even handle a crossbow fairly well, and liked the general awareness of her body that came with trying to shape it into a usable weapon.

Once again they were out in the back yard taking a break from another fight out of which Raz had come bleeding at his side from a rather excellently executed attack of hers.

They were sitting on the steps leading up to the back porch, catching their breath and soaking in the sun. While Lillian took a look at his wound, a nasty cut along his ribs, she tried to distract herself from the rather inappropriate thoughts filling her mind at seeing his upper body naked this close by asking questions.

“What does that mean?” She pointed towards the tattoo of arcane symbols swirling across his pectorals and right upper arm.

“It’s Angelic.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Lillian didn’t push, sensing that for once it wasn’t right to do so, and changed the subject instead.
“How come you bleed from my cut? I thought only a shade could do real damage.”

God, his skin was tight and hot and his scent teased her nose. He always smelled of soap and man, and something entirely his, a mix that reminded her of rain and something earthy.

“Angels can only heal in heaven. Here, on earth, the human realm, our bodies are submitted to its limits. We need to eat and sleep like humans do, though not as much and not as often.”

“You’re more vulnerable down here.”

“Yes.” He looked at her then in a way that made Lillian wonder whether they were still talking about wounds. But the spell vanished as soon as she drew away her hands and Raz suddenly stood, all business. “Thanks.”

Without a backward glance he marched back onto the grass that was their training area.

“Remember when we talked about the Ebonys’ shades, the shadow daggers?” When Lillian got up and nodded, he went on, “Angels, and therefore Ivorys as well, are creatures of light. So our weapon …is this.”

He raised his sword that was suddenly engulfed in a dancing sheen of whitest, purest light she had ever seen and yet it didn’t blind her.

“The angels’ famous sword of flames,” Lillian murmured under her breath, amazed and awed.

“And yours. We’ll just have to find the light in you.”

It turned out to be easier said than done. As always.

Raz flipped purgatory’s light switch and
Lillian found her world plunged into utter darkness for probably the hundredth time so that she couldn’t even see her hand right in front of her eyes.

His deep voice drifted from somewhere behind her,
“Now, concentrate. On everything that’s good inside of you, and…”

“Let there be light, I know. Got the wrong person here
though, I’m not God, just an Ivory.” He growled and she shrugged even though he couldn’t see her. “Sorry, the situation kinda asked for that.”

She ducked and whirled around as she heard his sword sing close to her head.

“The edge of your sword won’t be enough to kill the creatures you’re up against. Only the light will, so I suggest you better find it.”

He was suddenly right
behind her. She could sense his heat at her back and his warm breath fanning against her neck. A hot and cold shiver ran down her spine. Her heart jumped in her chest and accelerated, heat echoing and uncoiling inside of her until it spread through her body.

Yeah, she suspected this was part of the problem.

Unconsciously she liked being in the darkness with him a little too much to be able to make any kind of light. Liked him moving around her, fainting attacks and coming up out of nowhere. Though, when she was aware of it then it probably wasn’t her subconscious to be held responsible but
she
alone. God, her entire body tingled with awareness, her other senses heightened due to the lack of light.

Suddenl
y pain exploded in her wrist and she let her weapon drop. Then she felt the blade of his sword at her throat. “Do I really have to chop off your head as an incentive?”

Did she only imagine it or was his voice huskier?

She mentally kicked herself. She had his sword to the throat and wondered whether he was as turned on as she was? Woman up!

Fast as lightning Lillian
moved her right arm in an up-and-over motion to bring it behind his right elbow to punch him in the face from the side. At the same time, using his momentary surprise and confusion, she grabbed the wrist holding the sword with her left hand and then twisted it sharply. His grip loosened and she whirled away, ducking down to pick up her sword in the same movement.

The thrill of her successful defense
danced through her veins and she was still gloating at seeing Raz scowl at her when his expression changed into one of smug satisfaction. She realized then that she was actually able to see him. Because a thin, white shimmer was stretching along her sword and illuminating the blackness around them. However, the moment she noticed it, it vanished.

Her shoulders drooped.
“Damn.”

“Well, it’s better than nothing, isn’t it?” The
unfamiliar voice had her head snapping up.

Light flooded the world once more and Lillian was able to see the man who had appeared beside them in the yard
and was exchanging friendly slaps with Raz.

He looked rather…tousled. His hair
, probably sandy in color outside of purgatory was messed up as if it hadn’t seen a brush in quite a while and his clothes, faded jeans torn at the knees and equally worn shirt, were crumpled. Maybe he had slept in them. Make that probably. Even his blinding white wings looked a bit ruffled. But his eyes twinkled with life and the smile in them made her smile as well.

“Lillian, this is my brother Maion, angel of self-discipline.”

Her gaze jumped between the two of them. “For real?” They were kidding, right? The guy looked about as self-disciplined as a day-old toddler.

Raz chuckled – a beautiful
and utterly rare sound by the way – while Maion walked over to her, draping one arm over her shoulder. She could smell alcohol on his breath.

He sighed and ex
plained in the serious voice of the jolly, “To be the angel of self-discipline you have to understand, and that means experience and, and…and just
live
, everything that might weaken or threaten it.”

“Aha.”
She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

Together they walked over to the porch,
Raz following and leaning against the railings as Maion sat down on the steps. “Why are you here?”

Maion
looked at Lillian. “I’m here to tell you that your guard has been mobilized and will soon be coming.”

“Oh.”

Her guard. She hadn’t thought about that, successfully pushing it away while training with Raz. But here it was now, right in her face. She would have to lead a team, take responsibility and watch out that they didn’t get themselves killed. Damn it. Her stomach clenched with dread and fear, turning into a leaden lump. Lillian swallowed, suddenly nauseous with the crushing weight of her duty. Over Maion’s head she met Raz’s gray eyes and knew he saw all of the raw nerves and anxiety before she could hide them. Knew he saw right into her soul.

Raz
had to admit she had pulled a very nice move on him earlier and he was more than grateful Maion hadn’t witnessed it. He wouldn’t have been able to live that one down. His wrist was still smarting from when she had twisted it away from her throat as he took care of the dishes. Seeing that she had been the one to prepare them an excellent dinner once again he figured it was the least he could do. Especially since watching her cook was a treat in itself. It was like witnessing the creation of a masterpiece, every movement elegant and sensible; a fire in her purgatory gray eyes when she could already see what would come out of it while he had no idea. She was humming with the music he had turned on, her bare feet moving to it. She hadn’t been plump or anything before the training, but it certainly had helped shape her body, tone it. Whenever his gaze had traveled up to the curve of her hips he had yanked it away.