Sweet Disgrace (3 page)

“It’s incredible he offered a bargain, especially one such as this,” Nicolae’s voice spoke unexpectedly. Celeste had almost forgotten they had an audience. She looked at him, blinking several times and snatching her hand from Damael’s. Their joined fingers had been the object of the old man’s gaze. Once that contact was severed, his solemn stare lifted to her face.

She struggled to find her voice. “You aren’t suggesting I should—”

“No, not suggesting. Observing.” His mustache twitched and he went back to his ledgers. “Good night.”

“I believe he was suggesting.”

Celeste slammed her way out the front door of the old house. “I don’t care what you believe.”

Damael kept up with her rapid pace, his own gait smooth and effortless. “His concern, of course, is for the poor soul who’s going to suffer for eternity because of one angel’s selfishness.”

She stopped and whirled on him. “If Adam suffers for eternity, it’s because of one demon’s greed.”

“Or his own.”

“You court the downtrodden, entice them to sign away their most precious possession, and it’s their fault?”

“Well
yes
,” he said, his careful façade cracking and revealing an unaccustomed indignation. “He could have said no. I held no powers of coercion at that juncture. And I followed through with my end of the bargain beautifully, wouldn’t you say? Within two years, they had a record deal. Two more, they were the biggest rock band in the world. Sixteen years later, they’re still going strong, playing sold out arenas, releasing platinum albums. He’s spent all that time fucking and drugging and drinking himself stupid, and getting paid for it, which was all he ever wanted out of life. It’s probably only because of our bargain that he’s still alive
now
.”

“That’s nonsense. I read the file. His life would barely be half over if you hadn’t come into it. And he’s more than that.”

“Than what?”

“Than what you see. There’s more to him.”

Damael scoffed. “You’re right, there is more.” He ticked off on his fingers. “The wife he abandoned. The daughter he rarely sees. The family he turned his back on. The—”

“Who hasn’t made poor choices in their lives? Surely there is one good thing you can say about him.”

“I like his music?”

“He must have remorse.”

“Even if he does, he doesn’t try to make it right, does he?”

She drew herself up so that they’d be eye-to-eye if only she were taller. This close, the magnetism of his eyes was even stronger, but she wouldn’t let herself back down this time. As he looked down at her and she stared up at him, the tips of their noses almost touched. “He won’t ever have the chance now,
will
he?” she said, her voice low and shaking.

Damael only grinned. “You’re truly in a snit over this one, aren’t you? Does that have more to do with him, or with my proposal?”

With a growl of frustration, she turned and stalked away from him. He caught up easily. “It doesn’t have to be this way, you know. I keep trying to tell you. I’ll make it worth your while, and you’ll have another sweet, innocent,
blameless
soul in Heaven in forty or so years.”

His sarcasm bit into her, but she refused the bait. She walked aimlessly toward the woods surrounding the mansion, knowing she could flee him at any time, but not doing so for reasons she didn’t even want to attempt explaining to herself. Two figures materialized in front of them, and she recognized her friend Tanan, who was on his own earthly assignment. His demon adversary trailed behind him, looking as if she wanted to rip out his throat. They must be on their way to seek Nicolae’s counsel as well.

And that’s the way it’s supposed to be
, Celeste thought miserably. Pure animosity. None of this indecent bargaining nonsense Damael was spouting. She gave Tanan a nod, but she didn’t like the way the female demon was looking at her friend, and as they approached, that bloodthirsty glare turned toward Celeste.

“Careful, Nax,” Damael called out to his colleague, and she was almost glad he provided a distraction to pull that leering gaze off her. “Nicolae’s in rare form today. He even danced a little jig for us.”

The female’s blood-red lips tilted at the ends. Now the leering gaze took on an entirely new intent as it devoured the length of Damael’s body. Like him, she was beautiful, but it was a scary beauty. Wickedness rose off her in waves, shone from her pale eyes. Celeste wondered just how well the two of them knew each other, and then wondered why the question sparked such an intense burn of envy.

Holy God. Lust, envy…she was beginning to succumb to sin, and she needed to get away from here. It was madness to remain.

“Did he help you?” Tanan asked Celeste, looking hopeful. She could only hope her own turmoil didn’t show on her face.

“No. It’s lost.”

“Of course it’s not,” Damael said happily. The two angels ignored him as Tanan placed a comforting hand on Celeste’s shoulder.

“You did all you could.”

“Not
all
she could,” Damael said.

“Shut
up
,” Celeste snapped at him. Tanan’s head tilted back in surprise, just before an iron grip locked around Celeste’s throat, fast as lightning. For one terrible instant she thought Damael had grabbed her this way, but long fingernails were biting into her flesh, tearing it. The female demon jerked Celeste’s face close to her own.

“
He
can’t hurt you, bitch,” she sneered. Celeste stared helplessly into that terrible visage, as ridges rose in the delicate features of the face and the icy blue eyes paled to frozen white. “But I can rip off your wings and eat them.”

Suffocating darkness threatened to overwhelm her, the demon’s dark magic working through her like a poison permeating her veins. She struggled to gather her own defenses, to retaliate, but she’d been taken by surprise and pain robbed her of all her senses. Seemingly from a great distance, she heard Tanan shout, and then the merciless grip disappeared and Celeste collapsed to the ground, shuddering.

When she finally managed to look up, she saw Damael had Nax in much the same grip as the other demon had just held her, his hand locked around her throat. Nax was trying to snarl at him, but the effort was futile.

“I suggest,” Damael began slowly, his voice pitched so low it sounded monstrous, “that you go take care of your own business, and leave me to mine.” He thrust her away from him, and she almost landed flat on her black-leather-clad behind. Tanan was looking as if he thought he should intervene, but didn’t know whom he should attack.

Nax glared at Damael one moment longer and then stalked toward the house without another word, her hand at her throat.

“Are you all right?” Tanan demanded, leaning over Celeste as if he meant to help her up. She started as Damael grabbed him, prepared to jump up and defend her friend if she could, but Damael only pushed him toward the house.

“That goes for you too. Get the fuck out of here.”

“But she—”

“She’s fine. Off with you, now. Shoo.” He made a motion as if he were waving a fly away from his soup. Tanan leaned around him, undeterred.

“Celeste—”

She put a hand to her forehead, trying to clear out the lingering dark fog. “I’m all right, Tanan. You can go. Go and win.” She felt sorry for him now, having to deal with that she-devil when she was going to be doubly furious for being bested and embarrassed.

The two males stared at each other for another minute, one gaze puzzled, the other lazy and vaguely contemptuous. Finally, Tanan turned and headed toward the house. Celeste let her arms buckle, her cheek slamming to the ground. She only wanted to lie here for, oh, another century.

“Just my damned luck,” Damael sighed.

She groaned a reply that sounded something like, “What?”

“She had to hit you with the bad mojo. I could’ve used a nice aphrodisiac spell right about now.”

“I hate you.”

“I’m
joking
. You’ve heard of that, haven’t you? Do they do that where you come from?”

Through her hazy vision, she saw his shoes step closer, saw him crouch down beside her. More of the world came into view as he pushed the hair from her face, tugging gently as he pulled out bits of leaves and broken twigs. She let her eyelids close when the whirling in her head intensified, but that only seemed to make it worse, so she opened them again. “Th-thank you. For stopping her.”

He didn’t reply, just continued his task. She found it soothing, now that she was oddly confident he would kill any threatening force that came near her. Soothing…until she looked at him. Remnants of his earlier anger was still in his eyes. The black irises were so large there was hardly a ring of white around them.

“Why did you do that?” she asked, not allowing herself to look away. Trying to figure out his motives herself proved too much for her clouded thoughts. “I’d have been one less for your kind to contend with.”

He blinked at her. “Do you think that’s what I want?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Well, there are those of us who would like to strike you all dead on sight, run rampant in the earth and maim and kill and destroy until it’s a wasteland. You just met one such as that. But I, sweet angel, rather like the competition.”

“But I’m no competition, am I?”

He seemed to debate with himself for a moment. “You won the Roman emperor that time. Nailed me on the basic required language I’d been writing for centuries.”

She managed to laugh. “I remember now. You took it with exceptionally good grace.”

It might have been her imagination, but she thought his expression darkened, a haunted shadow crossing his perfect features. For the first time in her existence, it occurred to her to wonder what consequences he faced for failing. She didn’t meet any repercussions except sorrowful embraces and encouraging words that gave no comfort. What did Damael’s masters do to him when he didn’t deliver?

She hadn’t seen him for a long time after that miraculous victory. A long, long time.

Which begged another question that sent a chill through her. Would he really risk whatever hell might be in store for him by releasing Adam if she gave in?

“How do you feel?” he asked, and she realized she’d been staring up at him longer than she should have. Behind him, the sky was black and glittering with stars, but it had to be nearing dawn. She could escape into that great open expanse right now, be done with all of this. Leave Adam to the doom he’d only brought upon himself.

But she wasn’t doing it. And it was becoming more apparent to her that she wasn’t going to.

She shifted on the ground and winced at the sharp pains that crackled along her limbs. There really was no reason to lie to him. “Not well. I still hurt.”

“Shall I make it better?”

“You can?”

“If you’ll allow me.”

Wariness crept through her, and she furrowed her brow at him. “That depends on what I must allow.”

He withdrew his hand from her hair and rested his elbow on his bent knee. Under ordinary circumstances, his smile might have been described as seductive, but at the moment she found it to be merely cruel. “A kiss.”

Chapter Three

A sound of frustration escaped her, and she turned her face away from him, toward the ground. “You lie. I should have known all of this was leading back to your perverse—”

“It’s the quickest way to draw the energy into myself. Unless you’d rather—”

“Hush. No.”

“Don’t be like that. I can help you.”

“You only want to help yourself.”

“How is that? I’ve offered you everything you want. Adam’s soul. Your healing. I’m a regular good Samaritan here, am I not?”

She gave a bark of laughter and instantly cringed. He couldn’t deny that her vulnerability was tugging at every predatory sense he possessed. She was on the ground, crumpled, helpless. Like a little bird with a broken wing, and he was the cat creeping up on her, step by agonizingly slow step.

Her fingers dug into the ground as another spasm seemed to overtake her, and he made a production of sighing wearily. “This is needless, I’m telling you. I can take it all away.”

“How long will I be this way?”

“Have you never come under attack before?”

“If I have, it’s been so long I can’t remember.”

“Well, then. You could lie here for days if I don’t help you.”

“And why should I believe that?”

“Because it’s the truth?”

“
Ha
. Unlikely. You only want me to kiss you.”

“That’s a given. But I’m being sincere as well.”

She glanced at him with a sort of desperation in her blue eyes that left him struggling to conceal compassion he had no business feeling. It made him hope his outlandish scheme to heal her would work, but it always had with humans. Maybe she would be no different. “I want to believe you. So much.” Even as a whisper, her words were strained, agonized. “What does that say about me? Please, if there is any vestige of selflessness within you, leave me be. Don’t make me into a fool.”

The longer she’d spoken, the more strength her voice had gained, until finally those eyes were blazing at him with righteous anger. He realized his earlier assertion had been off base. Even while wounded, she was not vulnerable. At least not in spirit.

“You’re a worthy adversary,” he told her. “I’ve always thought that. You don’t give up until the end. You deserve more than to be left on the ground, wallowing in pain.” He reached forward and slid his hands beneath her, seeing her eyes fly open wide in alarm. Weakly, she struggled against him, but he was too strong for her at this point. He lifted her and shifted until he was sitting on the ground, cradling her in his arms.

She felt frail against him, insubstantial. The softness of the wings folded tight against her back made his mouth run dry. He’d never touched anything like that before in his life. Hadn’t known such suppleness existed, until she was in his arms.

Her chest was heaving, her hand gripping his jacket even as she stared up at him apprehensively. He couldn’t interpret whether her reaction was from fear or desire or perhaps a combination of both. Sudden frustration engulfed him whole and chewed him up without mercy.

“Stubborn angel, I give you my word, dammit, and I don’t do that often. Let me help you. But I won’t do it without your permission,” he added, hearing the tight, barely leashed desperation in his own voice. “
Give it to me
.”

“If you lie to me, I’ll send an extermination squad after you.” The vow was laced with an intensity that made him not doubt her words for a second. And then the coolness of her fingers crept over either side of his face and she pulled his mouth down to hers.

The shock that went through his system was another first. She must have felt it too, because the instant his lips met hers, she gasped and her hands tightened on him. But she didn’t fling him away. A shuddery sigh escaped her, and her air-light body seemed to melt into him. Her hands gentled too, sliding from his face to bury themselves in his hair.

Her lips were cool, pliant, sweeter than all the fruits of the earth. She didn’t stiffen against him or feign any sort of unwillingness or reluctance, and this, more than anything, was his undoing. He could almost believe she was allowing this because she wanted it, not for any favors he could do her.

But he’d given his word.

He opened himself to the darkness coursing through her. As he’d hoped, it responded, drawn back toward its source. He drank it from her, absorbed it, cleansed her of it until not a single particle of Nax’s filth remained in Celeste’s pristine spirit.

He had to be careful not to place any of his own there. He felt as if everything within him was being sucked out by nothing but the tender play of her lips beneath his. She could wring him dry, leave him nothing but a husk, and he would only think it a delicious way to go.

His task was done. She was clean. But he couldn’t release her. She whimpered into his mouth, and he drank in the sound as eagerly as dawn claimed the sky above them. He ached, throbbed, yearned to possess her. The effort of restraining his hands from roaming the softness of her body was as precarious as binding two mad beasts with something as fragile as yarn. One more move, one more sigh from her, and that binding might break…

She stunned him to his core when she lifted herself from his embrace and crawled to her knees without losing the contact with his mouth, without releasing her hold on him. There on the ground, he sat back as she shifted and straddled him, staring up at her with something akin to astonishment. And there in his gaze, she seemed to check herself. She froze, lips hovering mere centimeters from his, fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Oh, God,” she whimpered. Those eyes were so close to his it was like a whole other world opening up in front of his face.

She was going to stop; he was about to lose her. That was…best, really. It was. She would never have to know just how deceptive he truly was. He told himself this as he sat and looked at her and decided he would sell his own soul—or whatever it was he had—to touch her…really, truly allow himself to
touch
her. Everywhere.

Celeste’s thumb gently traced over his eyebrow, her gaze searching his face. “Your eyes look normal again.”

He opened his mouth to remark that was surprising, considering the agony she’d put him in, but what he said was, “Do I frighten you?”

A crease appeared in her ordinarily smooth, flawless forehead. “Many times you have.”

The thought had occurred to him before. But since she knew he posed no threat to her while they were on assignment, he’d dismissed the notion. She’d often seemed appalled by him, surely exasperated, but never truly
afraid
.

“I would never hurt you,” he said, and meant it completely.

“Well, you can’t, not while—”

“I wouldn’t.
Ever
. Hurt you.”

She was trembling against him. One touch, he told himself, that was all. He dropped his hand to her thigh, slid it upward, felt the firmness of the muscle beneath the silky fabric of her robes. Her head lolled back and she pushed her hips toward him with exquisite abandon. His thumb brushed the juncture of her thighs through the material, and a tiny cry escaped her swollen lips. The slim white column of her throat bared to him so fully, so trustingly, was too much to resist, and he dragged his mouth down the creamy expanse as his hand sought entrance under her garment.

She stiffened as he gained it, every muscle tight and on alert, but she didn’t pull away. Didn’t stop him. Only gave the most seductive moan he’d ever heard as his fingertips found soft, hot, welcoming wetness—

A sudden sound from the house broke the spell. Celeste jerked away from him, scrambling backwards as if fleeing a venomous snake about to strike. She jumped to her feet, still exhibiting a grace that made him think of an offended feline, and quickly smoothed her robes down with several swipes of her hands.

He sat, forlorn and grudgingly devastated, while she looked down at herself as if just now realizing she could move again instead of only rolling on the ground in agony.

“It worked,” she said wonderingly.

Oh, yes, it worked. It had worked all too well. The dark energy he’d pulled into himself was still boiling, turning his thoughts red. He was so hard the only image his mind could conjure was taking her back to the ground and shoving his aching cock as deep inside her as he could get it. Feverishly he wondered if she would arch against him with the same liquid fluidity with which she moved. If her voice would carry its usual sweet lilt when he finally made her cry out his name. Or, even better, would he evoke such fierce, violent reactions in her that she might sound almost as savage as he knew
he
would?

It was the only relief he could imagine—fucking her until all those centuries of lust were out of his system for good.

And that might take a while.

Now, he managed to compress all that hunger, all that desperation. He beat it into submission and smoothed it over with one carefully controlled utterance. “I told you.”

“Thank you. That was…unexpected.”

“That I kept my word? Or that you liked it?”

Her lips parted as if she meant to snap an automatic retort, then she closed them again. She wouldn’t want to
lie
, after all. What came out of her mouth then wasn’t what he’d anticipated.

“Will you…give me some time alone with Adam?”

Frowning, he got to his feet. He’d had enough of her looking down on him. “Why?”

“Please do this for me. Leave him alone for the next few hours, that’s all I ask.”

She was striving for normalcy, apparently wanting to pretend she hadn’t just had his fingers between her legs, so he matched her. “You know, doing all of these favors for you is getting a trifle exhausting.”

“What
favors
? Everything you offer is wrapped up in your own selfish motivations. This is the first true favor I’ve asked of you.”

What could she be plotting? He waved a hand and sighed. “Fine. I don’t see what it can possibly hurt, so go on. I don’t care.”

“Thank you.” Eagerly, she turned as if to run away, then whirled back to face him. “Again.”

“I’m giving you two hours,” he said crossly, annoyed by her enthusiasm, but making a point to look unconcerned. “And then I’m torturing him enough to make up for it.”

She rolled her eyes and disappeared in a flash of golden light.

The lavish hotel suite was dark despite the dawn breaking outside. Celeste moved silently into the bedroom, where Adam and Melody’s softly breathing forms lay on the bed wrapped in dreams. The heavy drapes were pulled closed over every window, but she could see well enough. Adam was on his back, a frown marring his features even in sleep. His dreams were troubling him.

She had yet to stop trembling herself. Getting back on the job fast was the only thing she’d been able to think of to get her mind straight again. But she could still feel the gentle bluntness of those long, tapered fingers…

What might have happened if they’d been somewhere else, far from any distractions?

She could have easily given in. If Damael wasn’t lying to her, it would have saved Adam.

Saving Adam was her job.

Confusion engulfed her whole. She wanted Damael, she wanted to save Adam. What was the problem?

Damael held all the cards. She felt her lips twist with disgust. That was the problem now, and always. That damned demon always had the upper hand, no matter what. But despite what her traitorous body dictated, she still had a choice in this.

It all depended on Adam.

Sighing, she moved to his side and sat, leaning forward to place her hand on his forehead. Almost immediately, his turmoil all but engulfed her. His fear, his dread and anxiety. She pushed against it, forcing it to yield to her light, and watched his expression relax and smooth over.

Oh, God. She was actually considering this.

No second guessing now. Concentrating, she gave another push, this one taking her straight into the middle of his thoughts.

She hated it. Hated wading through the weight of human emotion, because what she found was usually shocking or appalling to her. If she saw something in Adam that caused her to have that reaction now…

Focusing her energy, she took control of his subconscious, his dreams. She allowed him to set the scene, giving him freedom to show her what was truly inside him.

She should have known. The setting that formed out of the hazy, slumbering fog of his mind was a stage.

It was empty except for a mic stand under the spotlight, and the rest of the huge arena was dark and open and echoing. The seats in the upper deck area disappeared into the shadows clinging to the ceiling all around. They might have gone on and on forever.

Maybe that was his fantasy, to have an endless audience. Maybe he was as greedy for fame as Damael accused.

Celeste kept to her own shadows off to the side, watching as Adam walked out onto the stage and looked around. He was wearing a simple red T-shirt and ripped jeans, his long black hair trailing down his back. His feet were bare. He hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets and ambled up to the microphone stand, staring at it for a long time before reaching up and laying one hand on the top.

After a moment, he grabbed it with the other hand as well, and his head fell forward. His shoulders began heaving.

Drawn by his suffering, she moved swiftly toward him, reaching out to lay a hand on his trembling arm. But even she couldn’t reach through this. He didn’t react to her touch.

“Adam.”

Only then did he lift his head and look at her. He was pale, his eyes…dark. Haunted, as she’d thought before. He wasn’t conventionally handsome, but he was striking with angular features and full, sensual lips. His hands remained wrapped around the mic as if it would somehow protect him.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice soft but hoarse. His eyes were bloodshot.

“I’m here to help you.”

He swallowed, throat muscles constricting. His gaze took in the full measure of her, her robes, what he could see of her wings. “I believe you.”

There was no point in sugar-coating things. “Rather, I
can
help you. But first, Adam…I need to know if you’re worthy of it.” She felt wretched even as she said it. Who had appointed her judge and jury? No one, certainly, but she simply had to know who this person was. Would he be grateful for her help? Would he even care? Or was he as selfish and greedy as Damael claimed?