Underworld Lover (A Guardian Angel Romance #2) (35 page)

“I could do this forever. But we have a massage.”

“Don’t stop,” she whispered through her teeth.

“Perhaps just a little more,” he said and chuckled. She was considering missing the massage all together. It was not an unpleasant thought.

He was so hard it almost gave him pain, something else that was new for him. He needed to be released or he would never survive the massage.

He gave her one last kiss, his tongue rubbing up the slit to her clitoris and then wiggling it. Her arch and jerk thrilled him. He felt her need for his cock deep inside her. “Yes,” he said. “I must fill you, Melanie. Let me fill you, my love.”

“Oh, yes,” she said as she opened her eyes and reached her arms up to him.

He climbed over her, kissing her mouth and neck. “I am your human lover now. I…” He was overcome as he plunged into her, feeling her muscles clamp down around him as she accepted him and drove him deeper.

Melanie was asking for his seed.

“Yes, my love,” he said as he let his body empty into her, pulling her down onto him to fill her completely. She was thinking about a child, and he realized she wanted his child—something no woman had ever expressed to him before.

Yes, Melanie. If it is possible, we will. I want my child growing inside of you. We will see, we will see.

But he thought against telling her he knew this.

When he opened his eyes, she was staring up at him, tears in her eyes.

“Did I disappoint?” he said at last, raising himself up off the bed. “I’m sorry it was so quick…”

“No. It’s just that this is all so perfect. Can we live this way forever?”

“You mean here?” he asked.

She nodded. “Like this, just together. Maybe not here, but like this.”

He bent over and kissed her. “I think we can, my love. Of course, I have to obtain gainful employment, first. But you are in love with a very rich man, even if he can’t control his sperm.”

At last, she smiled. He held out his hand to her. “Come, let’s have a massage. I think I can lie on my stomach for a half hour now.”

Melanie laughed. They dressed and made it over to the spa just in time. Josh looked at the muscles of the large male masseuse Melanie had, and then at the muscles of the short female masseuse he had and wondered if there had been some mistake. He smiled when he felt Melanie was also a bit uneasy with the choice.

“Shouldn’t she have the woman and I have you?”

“Oh, we switch,” the masseur said, adding a bright smile. With his tanned face, Josh figured he was a bodybuilder. “You’ll get a bit of both of us. Come on, you’ll love it.”

They were led to an upper room above the spa. The sun had just set and there was a remainder orange glow to the walls and brick red tiles of the floor. Two wide tables draped in white sheets stood side by side.

They were close enough so he could hold her hand. The masseuse worked over her shoulders and neck. They exchanged silent messages of “I love you,” with their lips. The music was sensual, complimented the smell of the citrus oil Melanie had picked out, and the musky smell of his choice. It reminded him of the sandalwood in Undertown, but was fresher, as if laced with fresh-cut greenery.

Afterward, they walked hand in hand, their well-oiled bodies craving some private time in the shower together, while their masseuses waited at the end of the hall with towels draped over one arm. Josh was beginning to feel as if his stamina as a human might equal his dark angel prowess.

Another gift.

Her smooth oiled ass was just too tempting as he begged for and received permission to enter her from behind. He wondered how long their masseuses would wait.

“Perhaps we should tell them we will be awhile,” he said as he thrust into her again.

“Maybe they should take the next stall.”

“Maybe they should go out to dinner,” he said.

“Maybe they should come back tomorrow.” She chuckled.

He laughed this time. “Melanie, you can have me until I can’t stand up any longer. Oh, my love, I have never dreamed this would be so nice.”

“You are exceptionally nice, for a human,” she whispered into the tile.

Their pleasuring continued until she was close to climax. Josh captured her erotic wave and savored every part of it. He continued his rhythm until at last she arched up and rolled a moan through her chest as he felt her orgasm hit full force, sending him lurching and spilling into her.

Several minutes later, the faces of the masseuses were angled down, but both smirked as they handed the couple white oversized towels. Melanie was blushing at her nakedness, not making eye contact. But Josh enjoyed every bit of the walk down the tiled bathroom in his birthday suit.

“Can’t say as I’ve enjoyed a massage, or a shower more,” Josh said. Everyone laughed.

He got permission to let them leave with bathrobes, barefoot. He stripped away Melanie’s robe halfway up the steps to their room. She giggled and scampered as fast as she could, turning around to make sure no one saw her naked. Josh loved her modesty.

At the wooden door, she said, “I’m starved. How about you?”

“Yes,” he said. “I will require a bit of a rest as well.”

Someone had turned down the bed, set the red roses in water, and had brought in an ice bucket of champagne. A silver domed compote contained half a dozen chocolate truffles.

They ate naked on the edge of the bed. The Gorgonzola endive salad with sliced pears was perfect with the champagne and truffles.

After dinner, they snuggled in bed by the light of the fireplace. Josh held her head on his chest and thought about all the days he thought he’d been happy, and what lack of color they had compared to today.

And there was much more ahead. He would have to ask Father if it was possible for him to have a child. He had never wanted this before, but now everything was different. Everything was possible. Joshua no longer felt dangerous. Instead, he reveled in the feeling of being good.

Am I worthy to be a mentor to a young soul?

He felt worthy of being forgiven.

The End

Excerpt of Heavenly Lover

This was all wrong. Wrong that there was a cemetery in Heaven. Wrong that angels could die.

Claire followed behind the older Mother Guardian. A crystalline path separated multicolored hedges of rocket snapdragons, red roses, and Sweet William, framing the gardens beyond as if to hold them at bay. Afternoon sunshine reflected off the greenhouse windowpanes, warming her bare skin. A syrupy aroma from crimson lilies assaulted her nostrils, making the air thick and breathing difficult.

So peaceful.

So deadly.

The scent of the end of things and of loss surrounded her.

She’d been summoned. But instead of asking her to come to the familiar third floor office in the Administration Building, Mother Guardian had chosen
this
place, forbidden to young Guardians. It was a place Claire had never been.

The angel cemetery.

The messenger had spewed out the order in a rush, fracturing Claire’s afternoon reading of an erotic romance she kept tucked under the silk pillows of her lounge. “Come packed, and ready to go,” she’d said. So, Claire’s yellow transport bag was now slung over her right shoulder, hanging half empty like the flesh on an old horse.

But why was she to start her new mission at the place of unhappy endings?

Father works in mysterious ways.
Mother Guardian’s anxiety-laced thoughts filled Claire’s mind.

Did they find my books?
Claire couldn’t help the errant thought from sweeping through her mind, but it was too late to take it back.

At the ancient, rusted gate, Mother turned to face her but did not smile. Her gnarled hand rested on the crooked handle above an empty keyhole. Her skin was wrinkled, like a flesh-colored prune. “You shouldn’t read such things.”

Claire knew it was true. Did Mother understand how hard she’d tried?

Not nearly hard enough, Claire.

So this was it. Punishment. The consequences she’d dreaded. They’d discovered her secret. Mother pushed the gate open, and Claire jumped as the rusty gate screamed in protest, like the helpless cries of an injured animal.

A strange and eerily peaceful world colored by green grasses and brilliant white stone markers opened in front of her. A chilling breeze blew back the hairs at the sides of her face. Unseen fingers pulled at her skirts, clawed at her bodice, whispering warnings. The wind writhed through the fabric of her white gown, disturbing the silver and gold hand-stitched symbols of her station. Her badges. Each represented a troubled human life saved from suicide. Each chronicled her perfect track record.

Tall, dark trees leaned into the cemetery plot, as if bowing out of respect for the elder Guardian, then swayed backwards, signaling that Claire wasn’t worthy. Her senses were on full alert, as every leaf or blade of grass presented a threat.

As they made their way between the rows of graves, Mother’s fingers patted the tops of the marble headstones, one by one. Claire was careful not to let any part of her gown or bag come in contact with the silent markers. Another blast of cold air traveled down her spine. The gown billowed out like a parachute, and then just as quickly, deflated, getting caught between her legs as she worked to keep up with the older angel.

Mother stopped, slapping her leathery palm against the top of one gravestone with a whack.

Time to face the music
.

Her mentor’s lips formed a grim line, indicating she knew of Claire’s unease. “You
should
be scared, child.” The old woman’s half-lidded eyes scanned wearily over the undulating grasses behind Claire, a scene that would have been peaceful and serene if not for so much sadness hovering like a shroud over a meadow dotted by pure white stones.

“A very powerful dark angel did this,” Mother whispered, then peered directly into Claire’s eyes, burning a hole all the way to her soul. “He makes them believe they are falling into his arms, but instead they fall into the pits of the Underworld.”

There were several dozen grave markers, all arranged in crisp rows, cooled by the swirling air and tickled by an occasional stray leaf or twig.

“One dark angel took all these sisters?” Claire asked.

“Like you, my dear, he has never lost a soul.” Mother’s eyes scanned Claire, as if she waited for a reaction. “There are others, of course,” she motioned beyond the trees, “fallen, but not at
his
hand. This one has a particular taste for Guardians. He seeks them out on purpose, considers it his calling.”

Claire searched the relief chiseled out of the smooth marble, hesitant to touch the design of a harp. Above the image, one name was etched in block letters: M-E-L-O-D-Y. Her fingers twitched with desire to connect with the spirit of the angel there, wanting to touch the flowing lines and sharp angles of the block letters. She tensed her hands at her sides. No dates were listed, nothing else written to describe the buried angel. Claire grieved for the loss of this being, someone who must have been loved as a human and who’d been cherished and trained as an angel to give some other human a second chance. A chance perhaps she never had. Such a harsh end to a gentle soul created to bring brightness and life to a dark and dying world.

Preyed upon
, Claire heard Mother’s mental warning.

Had Melody’s trusting nature been used as a tool against her? The permanence of the angel’s grave made Claire shudder.

“I wish I’d known her,” she said.

“Would make no difference. I knew them all. Only one of us needs to bear this pain. I’m trained for it. You’re not.”

Claire had felt the same loss when other Guardians came home from unsuccessful missions. The crying and wringing of hands would go on for a few hours until the angel was carried to the wash, where the memory of their failed mission in the human world would be erased. They would emerge fresh, eager to study again, to garden, or to commune with their sisters. Heavenly smiles would be etched into faces as permanent as the symbol on the stone marker. Claire had assisted in several of these ritual cleansings over the years, and they were never easy. She’d resisted the urge to ask her angel sisters questions, to learn what had gone so horribly wrong.

“No. We can’t have the memories here.” Mother’s terse comment tore through Claire.

Claire forced her mind in another direction. “You have a mission for me, then?”

“Yes.” Mother handed Claire a sheet of white paper featuring the picture of an attractive young man with dark curly hair cascading over his forehead and down to his shoulders to end behind his ears. “This is your new charge, Daniel DePalma.”

Claire traced her finger across the paper, down the slender nose and across full lips, barely aware she’d caught her breath.

“Those are not proper thoughts for a Guardian to have.” Mother said.

Claire could see the older woman’s right eye twitch, and her crooked smile with pursed lips seemed barely under control.

“He’s been preyed on by this dark one,” Mother added.

“Thought the dark one only liked Guardians.”

Mother shrugged. “I think even a Dark angel gets lonely. Who knows? I don’t study their habits, and neither should you.”

Claire nodded. She flipped the paper back and forth, noting information was listed only on one side. “No file this time?”

“No. We think he decided tonight to take his life. You’re going to have to hurry to get there in time. It may already be too late.”

Claire tensed, irritated they’d wasted so much time. She turned, anxious to leave the cemetery and get started on her new mission.

“Just a minute.” Mother’s fingers dug into Claire’s shoulder, spinning her around.

Something is still wrong.
Claire rubbed her collarbone.

“Let me give this charge to another Guardian, Claire,” Mother said. “I asked that it
not
be you. I was overruled.” Mother’s black eyes watched her intently, eyes that had begun to water.

Which meant Father had chosen Claire especially for this mission. But why?