Knight Angels: Book of Revenge Page 4

  Greg straightened himself, tugging his long black coat across his chest. “So what’s your plan?”

  I tapped my fingers against my chin, thinking of what to tell him and what to keep for myself. “I need to befriend his little toy, make her trust me so that I can figure out what makes her tick and why he loves her so. I want to know what will damage the both of them most.”

  “What if Max smells you out? You know he’s a hard man to trick.”

  I stifled a growl, knowing it wasn’t very ladylike. “Max may be hard to trick, but I’m smarter, and that’s all that matters. Besides, there are two of us now, you and me. We’ll watch each other’s backs.”

  “If you were smart, you wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with,” he challenged.

  I let the growl escape, wanting so badly to crush Greg, and knowing I could. But still, I needed Max alive, at least a little longer.

  Greg rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

  I crossed my arms against my chest and took a deep breath, leaning all my weight on one foot.

  He pushed. “And then what?”

  I despised his impatience. “This plan is just blooming.” I leaned close once more, grasping his chin in my boney hand. “Patience, my dear. Let’s take it one step at a time.” I kissed his cheek, leaving a glittery mark. “Trust. Then I’ll tell you more.” I tossed his chin from my hand, my nail breaking skin. A drop of his blood dripped to the forest floor where it spattered a leaf, the smell of it elating my senses.

  Max:

  I felt a sharp scratch of pain draw across my chin. I winced and rubbed it, trying to hide the sudden disruption from Jane. This happened a lot, a harsh reminder of my connection with Greg and the fact that he was still alive. Turning away as I remained straddled between Jane’s knees, I continued to stifle the dreaded feeling of my life and Greg’s life as one. My body shuddered, and I knew Jane would attribute it to our conversation, though it was no longer about that. Why I could feel pain instead of happiness or life was cruel. Greg had caused me far too much suffering, but what I needed to remember was that it was over—Greg’s presence, waiting for Jane, the sorrow—all of it. It was over—at least that’s what I was going to believe.

  I thought about Avery then, for whatever reason I wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was the fact that she was the one part of my past I hadn’t gotten the chance to clean from my conscience. I’d taken an Element Pixie’s light in order to experience this moment with Jane, and every sweet moment to come. What weighed on me, however, was the fact that Avery was innocent, and yet I’d torn her life apart despite that. What I failed to convince myself of was that it was the right thing to do—for me. Avery was the reason I’d left the priory, the reason I’d left it all. I was just as ashamed to be here now as I was then, so close to where it all had happened. But what was I to do? Pass up my own dreams and desires? In the end, the hope of Jane was worth the embarrassment and deception.

  “So, you knew you’d meet me one day, you just didn’t know when?” Jane ran her fingers through my hair, causing me to turn back to her. The sting on my chin had subsided.

  I searched her eyes, and then leaned against her chest. I relished her soft touch—her life and our patchwork soul. Her fingers in my hair sent streams of pleasure down my spine to the pit of my stomach where I held my urges at bay.

  I cleared my mind. “Yes. When I saw you that first time…” I shook my head. “I can’t even describe how that felt. I knew my loneliness was over. I knew you had come to save me.”

  “Save you? Max, I believe you saved me.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I guess we saved each other. Seems too perfect,” I said doubtfully. “I just feel like it was too easy.”

  Jane tilted my head up so she could look me in the eye. “It wasn’t easy. Besides, that’s what soul-mates do. We save each other.”

  I smiled. Soul-mates—I liked that.

  The pang of desire I was holding in my stomach escaped. The urge to kiss her washed over me, drowning every thought. I leaned up, our eyes level. I wrapped my hand behind her head, pulling her lips against mine. She was sweet, intoxicating, our mouths dancing with young love—something I’d never grow past, at least not anytime soon. I wanted to let go. I wanted to be with her, but I had to control myself.

  Jane’s fingers arched against my skin, her body heat rising with each beat of her heart. Her legs around me tightened and the chair she was in became an obstacle between us. I wanted to be as close to her as I could, but the dangers it offered played as a reminder.

  I forced my lips away from hers. “Jane,” I whispered.

  She shook her head, her nose resting in the crook of my own. She was not interested in hearing my excuses. Leaning farther into me, she slid from the chair and into my lap.

  “Jane,” I said her name again, and this time she opened her eyes, gathering herself as she saw the intensity of my gaze. I gathered her in my arms as I had the day I saved her life, brushing the hair from her face. I kissed her nose. “Wait,” I pleaded, but I knew that waiting would have to last an eternity, something I was afraid she wouldn’t do if she knew why.

  Jane sighed and slid from my lap. She moved to the bookshelves of the library, trying to distract herself with Erik’s books. My eyes traced the curve of her torso and down her leg, clenching my jaw as the desire to fall into her emotions grew more intoxicating with every touch we shared. I looked into my hands, hating myself for this.

  I should’ve never become her angel when I knew I already loved her, but I had no choice. I couldn’t have let her die, and at the time, she was so young. Intimacy wasn’t an issue then, nor did I really consider it when I’d been pressed to make the decision to save her. I knew the happiness she was meant to provide me with, but this was a hindrance I hadn’t thought out in its entirety. Taking her emotions meant taking her life.

  “Tell me more about Winter Wood.” Jane turned away from the shelf and back to me.

  I hoisted myself off the floor, feeling the want in me weigh on my conscience. I had to distance myself from my yearning thoughts. “It’s where the Priory resides, but also the population of magickal beings in this area.”

  “And it’s here, in Glenwood Springs?”

  I nodded. “It is.”

  “What’s the Priory all about again?”

  I sat on the couch, feeling the heat in my stomach at last fade with the topic at hand. “The Priory gathered here in order to protect the humans in this area from the Black Angels. Glenwood Springs used to be the center of war long ago, but we overcame it. In my world, the Priory acts as the head government, much like Washington D.C..” I corrected myself. “I mean, in our world. You’re a part of it now.”

  Jane turned, smiling at how I included her in this. “You used to be a member of it, didn’t you?”

  I was silent for a moment, thinking of Avery and her father Srixon, the Crown, or president of our world. When I’d ended the engagement, I didn’t bother to stick around to see if Srixon would continue to respect me as a member of the council. It was better I leave than face him. I couldn’t deal with the shame.

  “Max?” Jane broke my thinking, coaxing an answer.

  I looked up at her once more, hoping my eyes hid my secret. “I was a member. I held a seat on the council—a rather prestigious seat, too. I was Second Crown.” Just saying it I felt disjointed. “The job wasn’t for me, though. Government didn’t suit my ambitions.”

  She nodded arbitrarily, and I could tell it was because she couldn’t grasp just how important my position had been. She knew nothing of what the Priory did besides protect humans, but in so, we had been a huge part of her life. “You must have seen a lot,” she added, trying to seem considerate.

  I nodded, remembering all the murders and war. “I did.”

  Jane’s fingers slid from the books as she left the shelves, approaching the couch where she snuggled into the crook of my arm. She let her head rest against my chest, her life filling it with hope and lon
ging. Once again, I was faced with the challenge of stifling my cravings to suck all that in, reminding myself of the consequences. Her hand slid to my neck, fingering my necklace.

  “And this? What’s the story?” She grinned. “You told me you’d share it.”

  I gently took the chain from her hand, kissing the top of her head. “It’s what keeps me here with you.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, it’s a chain, right? In a way, it chains me to this world. When I died, I earned it.” I spun the necklace, the individual links grazing my skin. “See, there’s no clasp. No end. You can’t break it unless you want to break it, unless your business here is finished.”

  “I was your unfinished business, wasn’t I? Why hasn’t it broken when you have saved me?”

  I laughed, cupping my hand under her chin. “Until you take your last breath, my business is not finished. Your entire life is my job.”

  Jane frowned, pulling away from me.

  “What’s wrong?” I let my hand float across her back, conveying protection and comfort.

  She snorted, saying something sharp under her breath.

  I leaned closer to her. “What?”

  Jane huffed once, positioning herself against the arm of the couch. Her other hand reached out toward me, poking me in the chest. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  I had no clue what she was trying to say. “No?”

  She pressed her lips together, her cheeks gently flushed. “Feels so stupid,” she murmured.

  I narrowed my eyes, at last sensing what she was thinking. “I knew you’d eventually get to this point. Everyone does.”

  She looked appalled. “Everyone, who?”

  I backtracked, shaking my hands. “I mean, beings like me and beings like you. Ones that age fast and ones that age slow. It’s common in our world.”

  Her brows relaxed, looking presumably relieved that I hadn’t admitted to firsthand experience. “You’re ageing at one-bazillionth the rate I am. I think you know where it goes from there. I just hate that it’s a foregone conclusion.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She sighed. “It’s just so typical. Do you know what I mean?” She eyed me. “Obviously you do. You never age. I do. It’s like that stupid movie Highlander, or something.”

  I laughed. “So? I liked Highlander.”

  She rolled her eyes, looking just like her sister.

  I touched her face. Her skin was fresh and youthful. Years would pass before any of that would change. “I don’t really think you should worry about that. Not yet. Not ever. If you actually paid attention to Highlander, then you’d see that his love for his wife never changed, even when she was old.”

  Jane bit her lip, looking like she didn’t believe a bit of what I was saying. “Wife, huh?”

  I ignored her last comment. “I’m serious, Jane. Of all the things to worry about, that should be at the bottom of the barrel.”

  And it was true. There were bigger things to think of—like the fact we could never be together. Then again, she didn’t know about that, and it was going to stay that way as long as possible. I’m afraid that if she knew, she wouldn’t want to be with me anymore.

  A guardian and their guarded walk a fine line of emotional exchange: too much, and the guardian will suck the very life from their guarded’s lungs, resulting in death for the both of them. This happens because there has to be something to regulate angels from becoming guardians, and this sharing of emotion, and the danger of it, is it. These outcomes make becoming a guardian no walk in the park. If that were the case, angels would be saving souls left and right, knowing the connection it makes and the power it gives them. The Gods made us this way on purpose. Our bodies cannot support the complete soul of another. It’s simply incompatible. Sharing a soul, however, is permissible as long as intentions are true and righteous. It’s the way it was meant to be.

  The angels that do choose to take on the challenge, like me, often find that it’s because they want to save a human loved one, but as I was beginning to see, it was not for the faint of heart. I’d saved Jane because I truly loved her, because the Truth showed me happiness I would one day have with her. That one little aspect of being together didn’t need to be a factor in that decision, though now, it seemed rather important when considering Jane’s needs and expectations.

  “Take me to Winter Wood,” she demanded.

  I could sense her determination. She was agitated with me for not indulging her desires. Her yearning for me only made every minute I denied her worse. Her every movement was like a stab to my wavering inhibitions, the desire inside me like a pool in which I was slowly drowning.

  I weighed my options. The last thing I wanted to do was return to that place, but going there and indulging her need to see it would delay this newest problem and relax the overall stress on me. I was naïve to think that the Priory wouldn’t find out about me soon enough. Given the choices I had, it was better to go to them before they came to me. It was the lesser of two evils.

  Jane’s eyes narrowed. “I know what you’re doing. You’re stalling, aren’t you?” Suspicion replaced her confident tone.

  “No,” I denied, but it came across rather vague.

  “Why are you trying to avoid it? So what if you left the Priory? It’s not like you have to re-join.”

  I drew in a deep breath, steeling my spine.

  “What was that for?” She accused, feeling my resistance—an emotion I borrowed from her.

  I was beginning to fear that I wasn’t going to win this. “I didn’t exactly leave on good terms, Jane. I’m not just going to waltz back into Winter Wood and hope for a joyful welcome.”

  “What do you mean? And who cares? No one ever leaves a job on good terms, or so it seems.”

  “Just…” I sat up, forcing her to get up as well. “I’ll take you there,” I had no choice but to agree, but I could still postpone. “Soon enough… but for right now, let me take you home.”

  Wes:

  I stared at Emily as she waited for my response to her questions about the owl. I finally gave up. “I don’t know what the owl wants, Em. That’s your area.” My voice held a hint of annoyance.

  Emily’s features sharpened, the sour smell of displeasure wafting toward me, catching roughly in my nose. “We should ask Max.”

  I didn’t want to ask Max anything.

  Emily shook her head at me.

  “What? It’s not because of Jane, so don’t start thinking that. It’s purely instinct. I don’t trust him,” I defended.

  She clenched her jaw. “I know that.”

  But she didn’t. I could tell. “Well, fine.” I tried to flick her nose with my finger but she beat me to it, grabbing my hand and lacing her fingers with mine.

  “You’re getting faster at that,” I remarked, trying to get her to yield her fiery emotions.

  Emily stood tall, her chin high. “My hearing is getting better, yes.” Her assurance confirmed that she was acting cocky now.

  Though cockiness didn’t suit her, I was glad we’d moved onto a new subject. Confiding in Max was madness, at least in my mind. I grinned.

  “No, we haven’t moved on,” she concluded. “You’re going to ask Max, and that’s final.”

  My grin faded and I cursed myself for thinking anything at all, but it was hard to stop thinking. Just try it, impossible. Regretfully, I turned my attention back to the owl that had been on my car. What I was finding hard to ignore was the way my heart leapt whenever I saw another animal these days. I was secretly hoping it was my parents, but I admitted that to no one.

  “No one but me,” Emily chimed in.

  Emily was like a hawk within my thoughts, hunting down every secret I held and poaching it. I sighed.

  “That’s why I’m going to make you talk to Max. Maybe he can find your parents, or at least tell you where to look.” We’d come full circle and I was right back on the subject of Max. I suddenly felt exhausted. We reached her front porch and she spun, gras
ping my shoulders. “Just think! What if that owl is one of your parents? What if that owl was, like, your father!”

  A sigh escaped my lips, trying to ignore the fact that Emily was especially cute when she got excited like this. Her red hair matched the falling leaves, her brown eyes bright and unhindered. “I doubt that,” I shook my head, not wanting to get my hopes up, though they still did. “It’s not my father.”

  She smirked, knowing I was denying myself the pleasure of hope. “Thanks for walking me home.” She finally relented, allowing my thoughts to remain my own.

  I smiled. “No problem.” I reached up, giving her another barely-kiss. She grumbled when I pulled away, making the smile on my face widen—two could play this game. “Don’t forget about tonight. It’s our first date.” I winked.

  She slouched, her expression filled with trepidation. “Yeah, right. See you tonight.”

  I was oddly satisfied seeing her regret her decision to start over. Seeing her suffer somehow made my suffering over mental privacy seem fair. I watched her walk into the house before turning and making my way back across the lawn. When I felt I was a safe distance away, I let my shoulders relax and my thoughts pull free. I wished there was a way I could hide them from her, and I knew there was, but again that involved talking to Max. I jumped onto my porch, skipping the use of stairs and humming to myself.

  “Hey.”

  An uncontrollable shiver of hate ran down my spine. I stopped, not bothering to turn my head to look at him. “Hi, Max.” Freaky coincidence, or not? His timely presence only made my distrust for him grow deeper.

  He laughed. “Still not warming to me, are you?”

  I pressed my lips together. “You could say that.” I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my jeans, fumbling with the lint that had gathered there. “What do you want?” I scuffed my shoe across the deck.