The Death Skull: Relic Defender, Book 2 (2 page)

How had his life changed so fast from the neatly roped-and-tied, orderly affair to the messy, knotted circle it had become? Six months for a complete turnaround was fast for a man who had been perfectly content as an unscrupulous mercenary working for the rich and powerful.

Especially the rich.

Now, instead of traveling the world to work for men willing to part with their ill-gotten money, he lived in a goddamn huge mansion with an angel who turned down Heaven, an ex-exotic dancer with a sassy mouth and a destiny to save mankind, a shape-shifting rock with aspirations to be a 1920s mobster, a cocky tech expert and—

Her.

The woman currently kicking the crap out of the poor punching bag.

Correction. Not a woman. Fallen angel. Demon, actually.

Christ.
Jackson swept a hand through his hair. When he found trouble, he went all the way. Said woman, Marisol Asheni—a flowery name for a hard-ass demon—struck the bag, the force of her blow rocking the heavy sack violently. He half expected the damn thing to crash to the floor.

Even as she pounded the hell out of the bag, her body flowed in lovely symmetry. Much like the woman herself, each of her movements was precise, effortless and made with minimum motions. And a helluva lot of grace.

Her taut ass flexed and smoothed under the formfitting tight shorts women—God love them—seemed to favor. Long legs, tanned and straight, looked silky under the soft lights. Her waist was bare, and when she moved he thought he caught a glimpse of something flashing at her navel.

Holy hell, the woman had a belly-button piercing. When had she gotten the damn thing? He sure hadn’t noticed it the last time he’d seen her work out. His appreciative gaze tracked a path up her body, flowing past her curved hips to her uptilted breasts, up the smooth column of her throat. Despite her features being too austere for true beauty and marred only slightly by the iron determination in her square chin, she possessed a wildness he found fascinating.

Her auburn hair, woven into a tight braid, swayed back and forth as she moved. The glowing strands flickered with fire—filled with gold, rich coppers and hot reds.

Any adjective used to describe fire fit Marisol Asheni to a T. As in trouble.

His momma used to say hell hath no fury like a woman with red hair. What she didn’t say was that he’d be drawn to said woman as a moth is to light. Frighteningly tempted to reach out and touch the fire. Maybe that’s why he’d always gone for blondes. Safety in the cool, calm shades. Aw hell, might as well get this posse on the trail. They had a job to do. He and the demon.

Jackson strode over to Marisol. The closer he got, the more his groin tightened. He swallowed as a glistening bead of sweat traveled down the sensual lines of her neck, past the soft curves of her breasts to drop into the deep, shaded valley. His tongue ached to follow the path.

Before the mere thought of what he was doing crossed his mind, Jackson touched Mari on the shoulder. To get her attention. And that’s exactly what he got.

Like viewing a slow-motion train wreck, he watched her spin around, grab his wrist and haul him forward. Goddamn, he had barely time to think again—the woman was Conan the Barbarian strong.

She pulled him around, yanking him off his feet. He crashed to the floor in front of her. His back hit hard and his breath exploded from his lips. While Mari held his arm up, she knelt on his chest, further pushing air out of his lungs. Red eyes flared. Moist pink lips stretched into a snarl. Her eyeteeth, the honking long ones, peeked through.

He should be terrified. Hell, he wanted to be terrified. Ought to be quaking in his Ariat boots. Instead, his blasted body completely found his situation a turn-on. A cock-swelling, balls-tightening turn-on.

When those red eyes widened, he figured she’d noticed his body’s betraying reaction. A shadow of annoyance crossed her face. Then a low sound rumbled from her chest. Christ, was that a growl?

“Honey,” he drawled, “if you wanted to get me on my back, all you had to do was ask.”

This time, he not only heard the growl, he felt it purring through his body.
Shit.

“Human, you play a dangerous game.” Her throaty voice also hummed through him.

Merciful saints. At this rate, he’d never be able to move.

“What are you doing?” she continued, the weight of her knee easing off his chest.

He inhaled deeply, at first thankful for the cool, fresh air. When the scent of female musk and heady spices teased his nostrils, he stopped breathing. At least he stopped breathing out of his nose.

Marisol’s freaky red eye color faded, replaced with the lovely amethyst shade she normally spelled her eyes to be. Only when she lost control of her emotions, let anger rule, did the red show. With her head tilted, she studied him.

Her grip on his arm changed from hard to soft, and she let go of his wrist. After slowly lowering his arm to his side, he froze as a slow smile curved her lips. His stomach did a leisurely roll. What was the hot-tempered fury planning now? He didn’t believe she’d harm him. She’d had ample opportunity many times before and hadn’t. But there were other things she could do to torture him. From the wicked glint in her eyes, he wondered if several such things had crossed her devious mind.

Her head bent and she leaned in closer, her heated scent increasing until every breath he took drew her in. As she neared, the pupils of her eyes—now dark violet—widened further. She licked her lips and bent to his neck.

Jackson stiffened and, again, stopped breathing. But he still didn’t move to throw her off. Shit, was this what the stories always said about vampires? Their ability to mesmerize their prey so they didn’t know what was happening until it was too late? Even though she’d said she was not a vampire, he imagined he’d feel the same confronted by one.

If so, what a way to go.

She inhaled deeply, swinging her nose up along the edge of his neck until just under his jawline. Her breath was warm and moist. The rasp of her nose against his skin made him shiver. By this time, her damp chest pressed against his, the fullness of her breasts making his fingers itch to cup their softness.

He drank in her nearness, entranced by the feelings her touch evoked. Afraid that any movement on his part would frighten her, send her bolting like an unbroken filly, he remained still. Silent. Waiting.

This was a side to the fiery demon he’d never expected. She pulled back, her eyes so wide and dark they filled her face. Jackson sucked in a breath, staring at her pink, full lips as she moved in.

A door slammed. He jerked at the sound. Above him, Mari stopped moving, her body rigid.

“Um, Mari? Jackson? You two okay?” Lexi’s smooth, velvet-edged voice cut in.

Ah hell.

“I don’t know, Mikos. Seems we might have interrupted something.” The trace of laughter under Lexi’s words acted like a cold shower. And a reminder that no matter how attractive the woman above him was, Mari was still a demon.

“Indeed, love,” Mikos rumbled, an echo of amusement in his tone.

Before Jackson could move, Mari did.

Mari flung herself off the human, ignoring his grunt, not caring if she did any damage. Fires of Hell, what was she doing? Was she mad? To pounce on the mortal male as if he were necessary to her survival? She’d only meant to tease him. To show him she—never him—was in control. She hadn’t expected to feel the swell of attraction rising within. Hadn’t expected she’d want to run her tongue over every inch of him, tasting the sweetness of male sweat and sun-warmed skin.

Without a backward glance and sure her face was afire with red, something she rarely experienced, she hastened across the floor and snatched a towel off the table. She roughly rubbed at her neck and shoulders, seeking her calm center before turning back to face Lexi, Mikos and that cursed human, Jackson.

From under the dubious shield of the towel, Mari peered at Jackson. After struggling to his feet, he seemed to make an adjustment to the front of his jeans. Smug satisfaction crossed her lips for a brief moment before it faded. While she didn’t know a lot about the human act of sex, she knew enough to know what was going on with him.

She hoped he suffered.

“So, what’s going on here?” The humor in Lexi’s tone now included curiosity. When Mari turned her gaze on the Defender, Lexi’s amber eyes gleamed with interest.

While Mari would never call the mortal female a friend, over the last six months she had found grudging respect for the strong woman who not only defeated Beliel but also redeemed a fallen angel.

The same angel who had fallen in love and sacrificed his return to Heaven to stay on Earth as Lexi’s companion. The notion that Mikos, or any of their kind, could love a human was foreign. And give up Heaven? Give up the majority of his powers? Mari didn’t understand.

Not that she wanted to return to Heaven. She didn’t. Her life as a warrior on the side of Heaven suited her just fine. Although she had to admit, she enjoyed what the humans offered. What they’d made for themselves on this little planet. The food, shopping and especially the places of Nirvana they called spas.

But, still, at times her soul longed for something else. Something solid. A means to feel. She could laugh, she could cry, but she didn’t feel. Those were just surface reactions, responses required due to special situations. Sometimes in release. But never
real
emotions. Not like the ones she saw in Mikos’s eyes when he looked at his human companion.

Mari switched her gaze to him. Mikos stood at Lexi’s side, her partner and lover, and also watched Mari, his gray glance sharp and assessing. She resisted the urge to duck her head. Companions since Before, Mikos knew her like no other. Not lovers, but family in a way many of the Fallen were before some decided to return to the Light. He’d never understood why she was willing to turn her back on Lucifer but did not want to return to Heaven. What did he think now? Now that, by his choice after being forgiven, he would never again enter through the pearly gates to face the Lord Almighty?

He certainly seemed happy. The restlessness that had plagued him for almost a century was gone. Contentment had taken its place. While he still went about on missions for the Archangel Michael, being at home with his human seemed to be enough for him.

Whereas she, Mari, needed the continual motion of something to do. Some relic to chase, some bad guy to fight. There’d been no lack of opposing forces, but nothing like they’d experienced before Beliel returned—not by his choice—to Hell.

“My fault,” Jackson said into the silence. His husky twang echoed in the cavernous room. Did anyone else hear the strain under the words? “I’m afraid I startled her while she was training.”

Mari shifted her gaze back to him and caught his wry grin. “I grabbed her by the shoulder,” he continued. “She must have thought I was a bad guy.”

She tightened her lips. He was a bad guy. Bad for her, if not evil. A former mercenary, working for the highest bidder no matter the details, the tall Texan mortal male had left his last employer to help them.

His last employer being the demon Beliel. Lucifer’s son. A surprise revelation for Mari and Mikos. How the secret had been kept so long was even more surprising. When Asher, Lucifer’s Slayer, had come to help Mikos, had he known of the familial relationship? If he did, why wouldn’t he have shared that little bit of information? But then, the Slayer had always been secretive.

As for the sandy-haired mortal male, she wasn’t sure if she trusted him, despite the past six months. It had taken her several months before she stopped expecting him to do something against them, but he hadn’t. Still, he seemed to have his own agenda, and she worried that one day it wouldn’t mesh with theirs. When that happened, would she have to kill him?

And why didn’t that give her pleasure like it once had?

“Uh-huh.” Doubt tinged Lexi’s tone. She stared at Jackson and her eyebrows rose inquiringly. A faint smile crossed his lips, and he hitched his shoulders. When their silent conversation was finished, Lexi turned to Mari.

She simply returned the questioning look. Since tangling with Jackson in that way would not happen again, she was not about to enter into a discussion about her momentary weakness.

Lexi shrugged. “Works for me.” The Defender fidgeted, rocking from side to side. Mikos placed a calming hand on her shoulder. She swung her gaze up to him and smiled. At the slow smile he gave Lexi in return, Mari’s breath hitched.

The flush of passion she felt earlier returned. Not as much as before, but the look that passed between the mortal female and the once-fallen angel left Mari with an ache she didn’t understand. She clenched her fingers, barely feeling her nails dig into her skin.

Realizing what she was doing, she shook out her hands, then said, “What’s going on? Is something the matter?”

Mikos nodded. “A little matter that requires our attention.”

Ah yes, time to go on another mission for the Light. The surge of anticipation made her nerves twitch. Since the trip to Nepal for the Buddha two weeks before, things had gotten too quiet. “Good.” She tossed the towel to the table. “When do we leave?” She strode for the door.

“
We
do not leave. This mission is just for Lexi and me.”

Mikos’s words stopped her as if she’d slammed into a wall. Turning slowly, she glanced between him and Lexi.