Angel's Shield (3 page)

Haniel grabbed it and let his friend pull him to his feet. “You’re
right. I’m just worn out. I think we need to take a week off or something.”

“A vacation? Like the humans do?” Jeremiel’s voice was light.

Haniel chuckled. “Yes. Exactly like that.”

“I saw a hiking shelter just off the trail,” Jeremiel said,
walking down the ridge toward the town. Lights glittered along the streets as
darkness finally blanketed the day.

Haniel shouldered his pack, carefully wiping his blade before he
tucked it into the sheath along his back. “I remember it. Right next to an old
farmhouse.”

“That’s the one. We’ll bunk down for the night and go find some
food in the morning.”

****

Charmeine stood at her back garden, watering her tomatoes in the
dark when two men strolled into her yard. She froze, water still pouring from
her hose.

“Easy miss,” one of them said gently. “Sorry to startle you.”

She frowned.
Where have I heard that voice before?

“We’re just here for the trail shelter,” the second one explained,
moving closer.

She squinted, telling her stupid heart to stop banging on her
ribs.
People come all the time to use the shelter, you ninny.
She turned
off the hose and backed up. “Hang on. I’m going to turn on the porch light,”
she said. She should’ve done that when she’d first gotten home, but there had
still been enough light to see the garden. The sun had set while she stood
there, staring into the dirt. Sweat trickled down between her breasts and she
resisted the urge to rub. The last thing she needed was for some strangers to
see her touching herself. She stepped onto the step and reached for the light. The
two men waited, like perfect gentlemen. When she flicked the switch, she
gasped. The guys she’d served in the diner stood at the edge of her property. “Oh,”
she said, like an idiot.

The dark-haired one grinned. “It’s our lovely server, from the
restaurant.”

She blushed at the ‘lovely,’ but didn’t let it rattle her. “You’re
here to use the shelter?”

The blonde—
his name is Haniel,
she reminded herself—nodded
wearily.

“We’re pretty tired.” He looked around, then shrugged off his
dusty backpack. “We won’t bother you. We just want to get some sleep.”

Charmeine bit the inside of her cheek, then made a split-second
decision. The kind that drove her parents crazy before they’d died when she was
eight. Her mother used to tell her that some day her luck would run out, but
she couldn’t help it. She just knew things. Her grandmother always,
always,
understood. The old lady had told her it was part of her heritage, to follow
her instincts and have her hunches proven right. And she was so lonely these
days.

“You can stay in the house,” she said, stooping to coil up the
hose. She smiled as they stared at her, dumbfounded. “I even brought your
burgers home, if you’re still hungry.”

“Miss, we couldn’t impose like that,” Haniel said hurriedly.

“My name is Charmeine,” she replied.

The men exchanged looks. The dark-haired one stepped forward,
holding out his hand. “I’m Jeremiel.”

She cocked her head. “That’s an angel’s name.” Her gaze flicked
down to his arm where tattoos sprawled over his skin. A bandage marred the
smooth lines, making her forget all about her suspicions. “Oh my God, are you
okay?”

His hand didn’t waver. “I’m fine. It’s just a little cut.”

It didn’t look all that small to her. She glanced at his face. He
was still smiling calmly. She slipped her hand into his, strangely uncertain,
but the moment her fingers touched his skin all her worry fled. He felt good.
Familiar. She didn’t want to let him go. Arousal slid through her, hot and
strange, and she could tell he felt it, too, from the startled look on his
face. He felt like… home. Which made no sense. She was
already
home. The
other man had moved closer while they stood there. He smiled at her, too, but
his held more teeth than kindness. She wasn’t sure if he knew how intimidating
he looked.

“I’m Haniel.” He held out his hand.

She forced herself to let go of Jeremiel and put her palm against
his friend’s. A jolt of heat shot through her, like she’d touched a live wire.
She tried to pull away, but his fingers closed around hers, almost too tightly.
Suddenly, she didn’t want him to let go. She didn’t want to move. She grabbed
onto him just as hard as he held onto her and stared at his eyes, the hazel
looking more brown than green in the dark. He felt like a promise already
sealed, or the bit of excitement you feel when you step in for a kiss. He felt
dangerous. Alluring.

She had no idea what the hell was happening.

****

“You can stay upstairs. I have a guest room up there, if you don’t
mind sharing,” Charmeine said, leading the way into the kitchen. “But you’re
probably still hungry, so I’ll get your burgers out for you.” She resisted the
urge to wipe her palms on her shorts. That would be rude.
And they’ll probably think you’re weird.

“Charmeine,” Haniel said, his voice so low it rumbled.

She didn’t turn around. Instead she opened the refrigerator and
grabbed the carry-out containers. “I can put them in the microwave.”

“Charmeine, stop,” Jeremiel said, putting his hands on her
shoulders.

She trembled. Cool air from the fridge wafted over her hot face. “Here.”
She turned and thrust the food into his hands. She knocked the door of the
refrigerator shut with her hip. Jeremiel just stood there, staring at her
sympathetically. She sighed. “What’s happening to me?”

Just beyond his friend, Haniel shook his head. “We don’t know.”

“Nothing,” Jeremiel said.

Uh-huh
, she thought skeptically. She
edged away from Jeremiel and sat down at the table, confused and aroused. It
wasn’t a pleasant combination. She picked at the peeling varnish on the old
wood, hoping they couldn’t tell how attracted she was to them. Maybe it was all
in her head, this feeling of familiarity. Neither of them seemed particularly
rattled. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired, I guess. I worked
all day.”

“Did you eat dinner?” Jeremiel asked, pushing buttons on her small
microwave. It beeped, then the fan went on. He folded his arms and leaned back
against the counter. The chipped linoleum didn’t seem to bother him.

She shook her head. “No. I’ll have some yogurt or something.” The
bandage on his arm was very white against his skin. His black t-shirt hugged
his muscles. She stared. “Are those real?” she finally asked, whispering. She
couldn’t help herself. She had to know.

He glanced down at his arms, but didn’t answer.

“Here,” Haniel said, sliding a glass of water toward her.

She blinked. She hadn’t even seen him turn on the faucet.

“You look hot. Have some water.” He sat down across from her and
ran his fingers through his hair, tousling the golden strands.

She picked up the glass and took a sip. It was good, but it wasn’t
what she wanted. She pushed it away.

“Here, eat something,” Jeremiel said, setting the sandwich she’d
made for herself earlier in front of her. She’d forgotten all about it.

She chewed the inside of her cheek. She didn’t want to eat. Her
stomach was in knots and she felt like she was standing on the edge of a
precipice.

“Go on. Your blood sugar is probably bottoming out,” Haniel said,
pushing it a little closer. “You’ll feel better if you eat.”

He stared at her until she picked it up and took a bite, forcing
herself to chew and swallow. Why did she feel so strange?
Because one of these
men might be an angel and the other one is his best friend,
she told
herself as she took another bite.
Which
is crazy.
To be honest, she didn’t really believe Jeremiel could be an
angel. Her grandmother’s stories were just that: stories. Angels and humans
didn’t mix. Especially not romantically, even though her grandma insisted they
sometimes did. Sometimes even fell in love. Charmeine took another bite of her
sandwich, surreptitiously staring at Jeremiel’s arms. She glanced at Haniel. He
had marks, too, but only on his left forearm. He couldn’t be an angel, but
Jeremiel?
Maybe.
The thought frightened her. Thrilled her.

“God, that’s good,” Jeremiel said, licking his fingers. He stood
in front of the counter with his meal, eating standing up.

Charmeine picked up her water and gulped down half the glass. The
expression on his face had her squirming in her chair. He looked blissed out.
Aroused.

“Yeah, best burger I’ve had in a while, even reheated,” Haniel murmured
in agreement.

He looked just as gorgeous when he swallowed as Jeremiel.
Charmeine had no idea why she thought it would be a good idea to invite them
inside the house instead of letting them stay in the shelter.
Because you’re an idiot. A lonely idiot.
“So, you’re hiking the trail?” she asked, out of sheer self-preservation.

Haniel nodded. “Yeah. Going to try and get all the way to Georgia.”
He shrugged. “If not this year, maybe the next.”

“A lot of people spend a year or more doing that,” she said slowly,
trying to figure out why these two men would want to. What was their story?
Usually people were running from something. Or to something. “My grandmother
set up the shelter outside decades ago. I’ve kept it up as best I could.” It
was little more than a shed set near the forest. The trail snaked down the
ridge just beyond the land she’d inherited from her grandmother.

“Seems dangerous for a woman alone,” Jeremiel offered.

“Most people are nice,” she told him, finishing off her sandwich.
I
was hungrier than I thought.

The men exchanged looks again. She wished they’d stop that. It
made her nervous.

“Have you seen anything weird the past year or so?” Jeremiel
asked.

“What do you mean by ‘weird?’” She leaned back in her chair. “I’ve
seen a lot of strange things in the forest, but nothing unnatural. Bear scat,
deer fighting, even a feral skunk once.”

Haniel shook his head. “Nothing that tried to attack you?”

She frowned. “No. I mean, I suppose the skunk would’ve attacked me
if I’d gotten close, but I just called the sheriff and he took care of it.
Rabies isn’t something to fool around with.”

He sighed and pushed away his empty plate. “Well. That’s good, I
guess.”

She didn’t know what they were getting at, but the bandage on
Jeremiel’s arm worried her. “What happened to your arm? Is that why you’re
asking me about wild animals?” She didn’t forget that he’d dodged her question
about his tattoos earlier.

He glanced at her sharply, then sighed when she raised her
eyebrows.

“I fell. Scraped it against a branch.”

He was lying to her. Charmeine wondered if she should call him on
it, but his body language told her to forget it and she wasn’t brave enough to
nag him. He’d angled away from her, tilting his arm so the bandage was less
obvious. No way was she going to find out what really happened. She just hoped
it wasn’t dangerous for them to stay here.

“Why don’t I show you the room where you can sleep,” she said,
standing up. “I’m turning in early tonight, too.”
Might as well try and get some sleep.

The men followed her lead, gathering their backpacks. “Thanks,”
Haniel murmured, his voice a soft velvet that shivered over her skin.

She swallowed and led the way to the stairs. She wasn’t sure what
was going to happen with them in the house. She’d never been this attracted to
anyone before, ever. She’d never anticipated wanting two men so badly, so she
had no way to deal with it.

“Don’t worry, we would never hurt a woman,” Jeremiel said, as if
he’d read her mind.

“Um, thanks,” she said awkwardly. Didn’t serial killers say that
right before they tied up their victims? She stifled nervous laughter and
showed them the spare room. It wasn’t fancy, but it would do. She pushed open
the door and flicked on the light switch. Warm light from the lamp on the
nightstand flooded the room, highlighting the old quilt on the double bed. It
was soft and comfortable, a lot like the room itself. She remembered painting
the walls a year before her grandmother had died. ‘Pale blue, for sweet skies,’
the old lady had said, and Charmeine indulged her, rolling the color on in
great wide swaths. She shook her head. That day felt like it had happened ages
ago, not just a little over two years.

Enough reminiscing,
she told herself, stepping inside. “There’s only one bed, but I
figure if you’re used to sleeping out in the woods, one of you can handle the
floor.” She paused. “Or you can use the sofa downstairs.”

“Charmeine,” Haniel began, but she cut him off.

“I’m not worried.” She forced a smile. She wasn’t. She was
unsettled. Aroused. Lonely. “The bathroom’s down the hall,” she said as she
backed out. She needed to get away from them before she did something stupid.
Like
ask one of them to kiss me,
she mused, hurrying down the hall to the safety
of her bedroom. She closed her door and leaned against it, closing her eyes as
she let herself imagine what it would feel like to kiss a man who understood
her need for the skies. The need she’d never, ever be able to fill.