Beauty Awakened

Pictures of Laila only served to remind her of all she would soon lose. Her best friend, her confidante, her cheerleader. Her very heart.

“You’ll be able to decorate your cubby however you like,” she said, fighting a quiver in her chin.

“I can’t wait!” Sirena’s happy tone chimed.

Jamila stiffened, as though offended.

A knock boomed from the door. The entrance swung open before she could bid the person on the other side to enter. Dexter Turner peeked his head inside. He had a full head of dark hair and brown eyes that were puppy-dog sweet.

“Hey, Nicola, I was wondering—” His gaze landed on Jamila, widened, slid to Sirena, widened still more, before finally settling on Nicola. He gulped. “I, uh, didn’t know you had company.”

“I can leave if you want,” Sirena said, eager to please.

“You’re fine,” Nicola told her, not wanting the women to vacate just yet. Dex had asked Nicola out several times, and she’d always told him no. In high school, she and Laila had been forbidden to date for their own good. Then, after their parents had died and they’d been on their own, they’d both gone a little crazy, going out with anyone who asked.

Granted, only five guys had asked Nicola. But then, she was glad there hadn’t been more. She had hated every minute of every date. The nervousness had been too much for her, especially since each of the boys had expected her to be more experienced than she was, considering her age. She had stuttered, and she had squirmed in the uncomfortable silences that followed.

After vomiting before the last one, and nearly passing out during dinner, she had decided not to date until her doctors discovered a way to regulate her heartbeat once and for all.

Not Laila, though. Laila had flourished under the attention. A few months ago, she’d even made a go of a serious relationship. But the two had fought and fought and fought, and all that strife had put a strain on her body. She’d ended up in the hospital. Of course, when the doctors told her that she would never leave, the guy had walked away and never come back.

“I’ll just catch you later,” Dex said, and shut the door.

Several beats of silence passed.

“Is he yours?” Jamila asked.

“Nope,” Nicola said. “I’m single.”

“Well, I think you two would make an adorable couple,” Sirena said, her hand fluttering over her cheek as if she were flushing. “Just adorable.”

The phone rang, and Nicola picked up the receiver, grateful for the distraction. “Nicola Lane’s office.”

“Miss Lane?” A strong male voice. Familiar.

“Yes,” she said, her heart suddenly pounding erratically.

“This is Dr. Carter at County General.”

Dread spiked, and she experienced a rush of dizziness. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing good, I’m afraid. Your sister has taken another turn for the worse. How soon can you get here?”

WHAT DID I DO to deserve this? Koldo had spent the past six days with Thane. An eternity, surely. A punishment, definitely. They had traveled to the Downfall, Thane’s place of business. A palace of iniquity, to be sure. One that would have been visible to the human eye if not for the cloud surrounding it. But it had to be this way. Only the Most High, Sent Ones, angels and demons operated in the spiritual realm. Other supernatural creatures, like the ones Thane entertained, would have been unable to visit otherwise.

The entire place was in the process of a very slooow descent toward the earth, moving a mere inch a day.

Falling.

As the members of the Army of Disgrace might at any sign of misconduct. Symbolism at its best, he thought. But then, wickedness of any kind caused a separation with the Most High.

The club would eventually end up in hell.

Won’t think about that.

Other than successfully completing the three demon-killing missions Zacharel had assigned the entire army, Koldo and his companions hadn’t left the club.

Thane and fellow angels Xerxes and Bjorn lived there, and Koldo wasn’t certain how they were allowed to maintain their status as Sent Ones. But he now knew why they had been given to Zacharel. More than using a new woman every night, they fought whoever angered them with brutal intensity—and nearly everyone they encountered angered them.

Now the four of them were in the bar, sitting in a shadowed corner. Different immortal races wandered about, drinking and dancing, their hands wandering. From the trouble-happy Harpies to the scream-happy Phoenix, and everything in between. Vampires, shape-shifters, the Fae and countless others.

The snake-shifters were considered the most dangerous, with the Phoenix a close second. But the race that topped them all? The race no one ever considered, because everyone liked to pretend they were nothing more than a nightmare? The Nefas.

Koldo was very glad no one knew about his father. Gladder still no one ever would. Even the Sent Ones who had rescued him from the camp all those centuries ago had no clue about his origins.

“Having fun?” Thane asked him.

“Why am I here?” he demanded.

The warrior tossed back a shot of vodka. “Haven’t we gone over this? Because Zacharel commanded us to stick together, and I refuse to live in one of your hovels.”

Koldo’s frustration level spiked. He was to have a permanent babysitter now? No. Absolutely not. He refused. Something would have to be done. “What about our mission? The one you couldn’t tell me about? The one you had to show me?”

“I never said there was a mission.”

Must not kill a Sent One.

“But if I had told you I wanted you to come to my place and enjoy yourself,” Thane continued, “you would have said …”

“No.” Never.

“And there’s the reason I implied there was a mission.”

Koldo banged his fist into the table, earning several what’s-up-with-the-angry-beast glances from nearby patrons.

His gaze swung to Bjorn, who sat on Thane’s right. “Is he always this tricky?”

“Are you always this curious?” was the irritating reply.

Bjorn had dark hair and tanned skin veined with the same gold that wove through his wings. His eyes were a rainbow of colors, from the lightest of blues to the darkest of greens, with shades of pink and purple thrown into the mix.

His name was Scandinavian for bear. Again, another perfect fit.

Jaw locked, Koldo looked to Xerxes.

Xerxes, Persian for monarch. The male had long white hair pulled back in a jeweled torque. His skin was the color of milk and lined with scar after crisscrossing scar, each in jagged patterns of three. Arresting, yes, but it was his eyes that truly held a person’s attention. They were a bright ruby-red, and glowed with an endless rage matched by few.

I’m one of the few.

“Are they always this cryptic?” Koldo asked him.

“Are you always this annoying?”

All three males chuckled at their own ridiculous wit.

Koldo refused to envy their friendship, or their complete ease with each other. He’d heard they’d met inside a demon fortress, each a prisoner—each tortured. He’d had no one during his own years of anguish, and perhaps that was why he preferred his solitary life. The fewer people privy to his secrets, the less likely he was to face betrayal.

“I’ve introduced you to many beautiful females, hoping one of them would entertain you—and free me of the burden of you,” Thane said, tossing back another vodka. “You’ve refused them all. Why?”

“I have no interest.”

“Have you ever been with a woman?” Bjorn asked.

“No.” He’d had no desire. He still didn’t. Except … every day since he’d come here, Zacharel had granted Koldo an hour-long break from Thane. He’d spent the first half of that hour with his mother, resisting the urge to hurt her, and the second half with Nicola, watching, hidden from view.

He would ensure no demons were following her. He would wonder what she’d look like if she laughed with all of her heart, carefree, and his blood would heat in the strangest way. A tingling heat. Almost … electrifying. He would begin to step into the natural realm, catch himself and back off. What if his presence caused her heart undue stimulation? What if he hurt her? He had the hands of a killer, after all.

So, he would remain in the spirit realm. But the tension within him had gotten worse. The hum of anticipation had gotten stronger.

He had no idea what to do, what to think.

Even still, he was eager to speak with her, to at last discover what conclusion she’d drawn about him. How was he to kick things off, though?

Your sister is going to die, but I can help you save yourself.

I’m a Sent One. Heed my words.

I’m a cold, hard man. I’ve done terrible things. But have no fear, I won’t harm you.

“A virgin,” Xerxes said with a tinge of … envy? Surely not. He motioned to a female. “We must change that.”

Smacking bubble gum, a blonde Harpy approached the table. She wore a sequined bra and spandex shorts, her hair braided at the sides in two perfect ropes. “What’s up, guys?”

“We want you to give our friend a lap dance,” the scarred warrior said. Then, to Koldo, “I bet you can’t resist that.”

Her gaze slid to Koldo. She was a pretty little thing, with wide green eyes and freckles scattered across her nose. He wasn’t into freckles. “You want me to cozy up to this guy?” she asked, hitching her thumb in his direction.

“Yes,” Xerxes replied, deadpan.

“He looks like a cold-blooded killer.”

In Koldo’s case, looks were not deceiving. “You don’t have to—”

“So of course I’ll give him a lap dance!”

Wait. What? “No, thank you. I don’t want—”

“Whoohoo, this is gonna be fun.” She fist-pumped the air. “Are you prepared to soar?”

“We’re already in the skies, sweet,” Thane said, clearly fighting a wave of amusement.

She rolled her eyes. “Whatevs. He knew what I meant. Didn’t you, Killer?”

“I would rather you not—” Koldo began, only to be cut off again.

“Move the table,” the girl said, rubbing her hands together. “I want to get this party train out of the station the right way. And that’s my way, in case anyone missed my meaning.”

Koldo pinched the bridge of his nose as Bjorn and Xerxes stood to obey the Harpy. Before the warriors could get started, he stiffened.

Not because of their intentions, and not because of the Harpy. Deep inside, where instinct sizzled and crackled, he experienced a sudden knowing.

Nicola was in trouble.

“I have to go.” He jumped to his feet, accidentally sending the table toppling the floor.

“Well, that’s one way to do it,” the girl muttered.

Zacharel’s orders stated that Koldo was to remain with Thane twenty-three hours a day. If he disobeyed, he risked punishment. He’d already used up his hour away today. “And you get to come with me,” he told the warrior, pointing at him to show there would be consequences if he was ignored.

“Wait. You’re leaving right now?” The Harpy’s pink, glittery lips fell into a seductive pout. “But I haven’t even started yet, and I’ve got some wicked-cool moves. Did I mention I’m very bendy?”

Thane’s gaze narrowed on Koldo. “We’re not leaving. We do, and I’ll never get you back here.”

The warrior had just as much to lose as he did, Koldo realized—and that gave Koldo all the bargaining power he needed. “We’ll return. You have my word. Until then, you had better follow.” He informed Thane of where to go and flashed to the hospital, but … Nicola wasn’t there. He flashed to her office. She wasn’t there, either. He did, however, spot a Sent One, as well as a girl he didn’t recognize but thought he should.

There was no time to question either female. He flashed to Nicola’s house, but his redhead wasn’t there, either. Her second job … nope. Back to the hospital, where he materialized at an empty nurse’s station and used the computer. A good decision. Laila had been moved to a new room.

Thane landed just in front of him. He tucked his wings at his sides as he looked around. “What are we doing here?”

“You’re waiting for me to conclude my business, and I’m in the process of concluding my business.”

Without another word, he flashed to Laila’s new room. And that’s when he found Nicola, sobbing over her sister’s body.

CHAPTER SIX

KOLDO ASSESSED THE SITUATION quickly. Laila’s heart monitor was racing. There was a sharp odor in the air—the scent of impending death. There was a wheeze to her breathing, even with the machines doing all of the work—the sound of impending death. Though she wasn’t dead, her spirit was already halfway out of her body, about to ascend or descend whatever path she’d chosen for herself.

She wouldn’t last much longer. Once the spirit was all the way out, the body couldn’t survive.

Nicola’s forehead rested on the bed, her delicate shoulders shaking as she cried with the intense force of her despair. Despair … a mix of both fear and tension, strengthening both of the toxins. Soon, every demon in the hospital would be hungry to feed off her.

“Nicola,” he said, stepping into the natural realm and becoming visible. His first word to her in all these many days. He shouldn’t have waited until tragedy struck, he realized.

Her attention whipped up to him, and red, swollen eyes landed on his face. She gasped, “Koldo,” with a big dose of surprise. Her nose was stuffed, her voice no longer smoke and dreams but scratchy. Strands of hair clung to splotchy cheeks. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

How could he explain that he’d felt her pain, when he wasn’t sure how or why he’d done so? Ignoring the question, he forced his gaze to move to Laila. “She’s dying.”

A pause. A trembling, “Yes. I shouldn’t be crying. I knew this was coming.” Nicola covered her face with her hands, wiping away the tears, perhaps even trying to rub away the tension. “She needs me to be calm. I need me to be calm.”

So do I.

“But …”

“You hurt,” he said.

“Yes.” Sighing, she fell against the back of the chair. She released a breath, drew in another, and her nose wrinkled adorably. “Last time you smelled wonderful. This time you smell like a brothel.”

He wasn’t embarrassed by the insult. Nothing had ever or would ever embarrass him. He was … overheated. Yes. That’s why his cheeks suddenly felt as though they were on fire. “And how do you know what a brothel smells like?”

“Fine. You smell like what I assume a brothel smells like. Cigarettes and alcohol and conflicting perfumes.”

“My apologies.” The first part of what she’d said at last penetrated. Before, she’d thought he’d smelled wonderful.

His body tensed, just as before. But there was no urge to inflict pain … he wanted only to touch her, to offer comfort and—he wasn’t sure.

The beeping from the monitor sped up.

Nicola traced her fingers over her sister’s hand, then stopped, just stopped, as if the action were too much for her.

How much strength had she lost since his last visit?

No matter the amount, the answer was the same. Too much.

“What are you, anyway?” she asked almost absently. “You haven’t figured it out on your own?”

“No. How could I?”

“There are many ways.”

“Name one.”

“Easy. A sensitive spirit.”

She expelled a weary breath. “All I know is you aren’t human.”

“Correct.”

“So why don’t you just tell me?”

“Would you believe me?” If he admitted he was a Sent One, she would, perhaps, have no idea what that was. If he used the word angel, she might have certain expectations he would be unable to meet. “We can discuss it later. Right now, why don’t I help your sister?”

Immediately he wished he could snatch the words back, but did he? No. He’d said them. He would deal with the fallout.

Eyes as wild and turbulent as a winter storm widened. “How?”

“I … can buy her a little time. She’ll strengthen and she’ll awaken, but I don’t think she’ll live more than a few weeks,” he rushed to add. She had to be swimming with toxins. Not only that, she would still have no internal or external barriers against the demons. Barriers she would have to learn how to erect. Barriers she might not have time to learn how to erect.

“A few weeks,” Nicola parroted.

“Not long, I know, but—”

“I’ll take it!” she shouted, as though she feared he would change his mind.

So eager for so little. “But you haven’t yet heard my terms.”

Her beautiful mouth edged into a frown. “You want something from me?”

Many things. “I’ll buy your sister a few weeks, and in exchange you’ll do what I tell you, when I tell you, until the day I release you from my charge.” He had no idea how long it would take him to rid her of the toxins and teach her enough to survive on her own.

“That sounds like something I’ve heard on the late-night news. Are you expecting me to become your sex slave?” Her tone wasn’t scandalized, but curious.

“No,” he replied with a frown of his own. “I don’t want you in that way.” He didn’t, did he? He hadn’t lied to Thane and the others. He was a virgin. Desire wasn’t something he was familiar with, and he wasn’t sure he would recognize it.

He knew he admired Nicola’s loyalty to her sister. He knew he wished he had someone who loved him half as much. But seeing her naked was … intriguing, he realized, the blood heating in his veins, becoming molten, scorching him. A heat that had nothing to do with rage. It bubbled up, washing away the cold man he knew himself to be.

Perhaps he did want her in that way.

The very idea nearly sent him stumbling backward. His mind reeled. But … but … but she was so dainty, so fragile. He dwarfed her. Could crush her. Why her? Why now? Desire for her was implausible. Impractical.

“No,” he croaked. He couldn’t.

“Oh,” she said, her shoulders slumping. “So, you want me to obey you when you tell me to … what?”

“Stay calm. Embrace peace. Sow joy.”

“Sow?”

“There is an irrefutable spiritual law that states a person reaps what they sow. Therefore, if you sow joy into others, you will reap joy for yourself. Right now, you need joy.”

“Calm, peace, joy,” she echoed hollowly. As if he were insane.

Maybe he was. “Yes.”

“Why do you want me to feel those things?”

If you don’t, the toxins will build up, and eventually you’ll die, just like your sister. They weren’t exactly calming, peaceful, joyous words, so he remained quiet.

“Wouldn’t you rather have me, I don’t know, grow a beard, get taller and play the part of Koldo in a little production called What You’re Asking Is Impossible? Because that I think I can do.”

Silly human. For the first time in his life, he wanted to smile. “No.”

Desperate, she said, “How about the number of the coffee shop girl? I could give you that, and we could call it even.”

Coffee shop girl? “Remember when I told you I could help you heal?”

“As if I could ever forget.”

“This is the way.”

A moment passed. A moment she spent blinking at him. “Calm, peace, joy,” she repeated. “Tell me my sister will live longer than a few weeks, and it’s done.”

As if he was in control of how long her sister survived. But she didn’t know that, and she was trying to buy more time. “I’m sorry I wasn’t clear. I gave you my top offer. There’s nothing more I can do on your sister’s behalf. Therefore, there will be no negotiating of my terms.”

“I figured, but I had to try.” She offered the same bright smile she’d given him in the elevator, and he had the foresight to capture a mental picture this time. One he would remember on the worst of nights, when the past threatened to rise up and swallow him. She was proof there was more in the world than darkness and pain.

“Do we have a deal?” he asked.

“We do.”

He nodded. “Very well. Don’t allow the doctors to take her off life support. I’ll return shortly.”

“But—”

He left before she could finish her sentence. Right now, every moment counted.

He flashed to Thane, who paced in the hospital hallway, and told him where he was going. Then he flashed to Zacharel’s cloud in the lower level of the skies. He had no wings and couldn’t hover outside the entrance to await permission, which was why Zacharel had given him an open invitation to enter—as long as he remained in the foyer.

“Zacharel,” he called. Walls of swirling mist surrounded him, obscuring his vision of the rest of the home. But that’s the way clouds worked. They opened only as you moved through them.

His commander stepped through the haze, his black hair askew, his robe dirty, torn and speckled with blood. Solid gold wings arched from his back, patches of the feathers missing.

Protective instincts rose. “What happened to you?” Koldo demanded. “Do you require aid?”

Zacharel’s dark head tilted to the side, his emerald eyes glassy, as if he’d … cried. “No aid is currently needed. You’ll find out what happened with the rest of the Sent Ones. A meeting will be called very soon, and every army will be there. Until then … what are you doing here, Koldo?” The last was said on a weary sigh.

Koldo liked and respected Zacharel. The warrior had taken responsibility of the most unruly army in the skies, and wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty to help each and every one of his men out of trouble.

“I gave Annabelle a vial of the Water of Life and I need what remains.”

Zacharel stared at him for a long while before saying, “Why do you want it?”

“Is there any left?” he asked, refusing to state his reason when he wasn’t yet sure there was a prize to be had.

Ignoring his question, Zacharel turned and motioned for Koldo to follow.

After only a few steps, the cloud opened up, revealing a living room suited for the richest of humans, with a velvet-lined couch, one half of it backed and the other half open. It was ideal for any Sent One and human pairing. There was a matching recliner, an intricately carved coffee table made of crystals from all over the world. A tapestry hung on the far wall, the words Perfect Love Casts Out Fear scripted in Greek in the center.

Clearly Annabelle had decorated—Annabelle, who sat in front of the coffee table, poring through books, furiously writing passages down in a notebook.

“Hey, Koldo,” she said when she glanced up. She had a fall of straight, blue-black hair and rich amber eyes. Her Japanese mother and American father had certainly shared the perfect blend of DNA to create her, he thought, for there wasn’t a single flaw to her exquisite features. And yet, she couldn’t compare with Nicola. A fact that delighted him. Why?

He inclined his head in greeting.

Zacharel eased onto the couch behind her, enfolding her between his legs. Refusing to give precedence to the urgency inside him, Koldo claimed the recliner across from them. He had no wings, so the back of the chair offered no restriction to his movements.

A white-hot pang blistered through his chest.

“You asked if there was any left. There is,” Zacharel said.

“Oh, what are we talking about?” Annabelle asked, dropping her pen.

“How much?” Koldo insisted, ignoring her.

“A single drop.”

Annabelle grinned with delight. “The Water of Life, then.”

A drop. That was enough for what Koldo planned. “I wish to purchase it from you.” The words seemed to be pushed through a tunnel of broken glass. He’d shed blood for this liquid. Had lost his hair for it. And now he had to give something else?

Annabelle had kept her end of the bargain, he reminded himself. She had kept Zacharel out of the heavens while Koldo searched for his mother. The Water was hers. Not his. So yes, he had to give something else.