The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance 2 (70 page)

“That is not why you resist the attraction. Perhaps Abel’s affections are enough to console you?”

She stomped on the brakes. The car behind them lay on the horn and swerved around her with tyres squealing.

Don’t let him get to you,
Reed Abel warned, his thoughts crossing over the connection that existed between Marks and the
mal’akhs
– common angels – who meted out their Infernal-hunting assignments. Like the American judicial system, there were bondsmen (the archangels), dispatchers
(mal’akhs),
and bounty hunters (Marks like her). It was a well-oiled system for the most part. It was her rotten luck that her romantic entanglements with Cain and Abel made her the squeaky wheel.

Easier said than done,
she shot back.

Zaphiel is always a prick.
Despite the subject matter, Reed’s velvety smooth voice was a delight to hear.

Her not-quite-a-relationship with Alec Cain’s brother was one of the many complexities in her life. Alec had ridden into her life on a Harley when she was almost eighteen and by the time he left, he’d taken her virginity and her heart. She was still comparing other men to him ten years later when Reed Abel entered her life and branded her with the Mark of Cain. That had been the start of a triangular relationship she’d once thought would be impossible for her. How could she feel so strongly for Reed when she was absolutely certain that Alec Cain was the love of her life?

“I would prefer that you not injure yourself unnecessarily,” Zaphiel said calmly.

Twisting in her seat to face him, she asked with equal calm, “What’s your problem?”

“I have no problem.”

“I’m a single unit. Got it? Not that you need to know, but asking about Cain and Abel is pointless. They’ve got their personal lives, and I have—”

“—none,” he finished.

“Drop it. Now.” Alec was her mentor, her friend and one of only a handful of people in her Marked life whom she trusted to have her best interests at heart. He was an integral, daily part of her life; they shared the same sort of mental connection she had with Reed. Through that bond, she felt the wall inside him that blocked his love from her. It was the worst sort of torture to be linked to him, yet farther apart than they’d ever been.

Smiling, Zaphiel looked forwards. “I will say no more.”

With an imperious wave of his hand, he directed for her to continue. Eve fumed for the next quarter of an hour until they began to climb the side of a steep hill. Then her attention was caught by the size and elegance of the mansions they passed on their ascent to the top. The space between homes grew wider until they stopped seeing any houses at all. The last mile was marked only by the road.

Eventually, they reached a gate that blocked further public access. A guardhouse stood on the right from which a burly male in an athletic suit stepped out. Zaphiel lowered the window and his sunglasses disappeared, revealing his face. Wary recognition shadowed the guard’s features before he stepped back and hit the remote that opened the two heavy wrought-iron gates.

The drive up to the main house from that point was at least a half-mile. Security cameras were prominently positioned along the way in gaps of approximately twenty feet. When the manse itself came into view, Eve was so taken by the simplistic beauty of its organic architecture that her foot lifted from the gas pedal and the car decelerated to a gentle rolling stop behind a silver Bentley. The residence scaled the side of the hill in three tiers that boasted wide wrap-around balconies. Distressed wood siding, rock terraces and exposed wooden beams enabled the house to blend into its surroundings.

Zaphiel exited the car. Eve turned the engine off and jumped out, catching his questioning gaze over the roof.

“I’m going in with you,” she said preemptively. Her interior design sensibilities were sharply engaged by the cohesiveness between the building and its surroundings. She was eager to examine the interior but, more than that, he’d dragged her all the way out here. Maybe having her play chauffeur, followed by irritating her in the car had been the reasons for that – she wouldn’t put the desire for petty amusements past any angel – but she damn sure wasn’t going to leave empty-handed when faced with such an architectural marvel.

“As you wish.” Zaphiel followed her gaze to the two guards flanking the double front doors. Rounding the front of the car, she drew abreast of him and they approached the entrance in tandem.

The door opened before they reached it, revealing a man who stopped Eve in her tracks. Dark hair, caramel skin and the flame-blue eyes of an upper echelon angel combined to create one hell of a gorgeous male. He stood in his bare-feet, his long legs sheathed in loose-fitting faded jeans, his torso clad in an un-tucked white button-down shirt with rolled-up sleeves and an open collar. The casual elegance of his attire only emphasized his unrestrained sexuality. It also said he felt no threat from his visitors, despite the tangible tension now radiating from Zaphiel’s powerful frame.

Eve’s head tilted to the side as her curiosity grew.

Zaphiel spoke first, with a notably harsh edge to his voice. “Adrian.”

“Your interference is unnecessary.”

“Since you just lost your lieutenant, I beg to disagree.”

Adrian stiffened. A haunted look ravaged his handsome features, passing so swiftly Eve wondered if she’d imagined it.

She re-evaluated Adrian, looking deeper beneath the elegant exterior. As with Alec, there was a dangerous edge to the man, a sharpness in the way he regarded people that betrayed him as a hunter. But in another respect, he wasn’t like Alec at all. Alec struck like a viper – in and gone before anyone knew it, leaving little evidence behind. Adrian had a far different air about him . . . a weighted expectancy like the calm before a storm. She suspected there was an aftermath when he unleashed violence, a razing of the landscape that left no doubt he’d been there.

With a theatrical and mocking sweep of his arm, Adrian invited them into his home. Zaphiel brushed past as if he owned the place. Eve paused in front of her host. Her stance was relaxed with her shoulders rolled back. Bravado went a long way in throwing Infernals and Celestials off their game.

Removing her sunglasses, she thrust out her hand and introduced herself.

Adrian’s mouth lifted on one side before he accepted the greeting. The half-smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and his grip was stronger than required. “Adrian Mitchell.”

She felt a power surge from his palm to hers. Considering his reluctant deference to Zaphiel’s arrogance, she guessed he was a seraph. She wondered why one of the seraphim was living among mortals. They were the angels responsible for sending kill orders to the archangels; it was through the seraphim that the firms knew which demons to hunt. The job didn’t require being stationed on earth. In fact, the seraphim so rarely visited the firms that an appearance by one of them usually heralded a storm of trouble.

Adrian’s expression softened. “Losing someone while they’re still with you is painful, I know.”

It took her a moment to realize he’d intruded into her mind and read her. She yanked her hand back. “I hate it when you guys do that.”

“I’m sure.” Genuine amusement crossed his face, softening him. It elevated him to a whole new level of hotness. Even Eve, as madly in love as she was, could appreciate it.

Preceding him deeper into the house, she saw that the expansive foyer descended into a living room via three wide but shallow steps. The massive space spreading out from that point was furnished with oversized burgundy leather sofas and roughly hewn wooden accent pieces. The river rock-faced fireplace was large enough to hold a Mini Cooper, but it couldn’t compete with the wall of windows and its stunning vista.

When Adrian moved to sit, Zaphiel said, “I have no intention of staying long. If I am to see to your failures, I must begin immediately.”

Eve stopped moving, hoping to become a fly on the wall. Knowledge was power and direct knowledge from the upper echelon angels was nearly impossible for Marks to come by.

Adrian’s arms crossed. “Begin what?”

“Hunting the vamp who killed your second-in-command.”

Her brows rose. Vampyres were one of the many classifications of Infernals that Marks dealt with. Gadara and the firm should be handling any problems in that area. Having a cherub and seraph digging into the situation set her teeth on edge. The more fingers in the pie, the bigger the clusterfuck.

“I’ve got a handle on it,” Adrian said coldly.

“You do not.” Zaphiel examined his fingernails. “And it pleases me not at all to know that lives have been lost due to your negligence.”

“You think I’m happy about it?”

“I do not care how you feel. I am here to tell you to stay out of my way. The rest is no longer your concern.”

Adrian laughed without humour. “Whose concern is it, if not mine?”

Zaphiel lifted his hand and pointed at Eve. “Hers.”

Two

After returning Zaphiel to Gadara Tower, Eve headed home with plans for a hot shower and an evening alone. A feel-good movie while curled up on the couch sounded like heaven to her. She usually preferred blow-’em-up action flicks but she’d had enough real-life explosions to last her for a good long while. Maybe
Becoming Jane
would do the trick or something stupidly funny like
Blades of Glory.

She stood for a long time beneath the pummelling spray of the shower, telling herself that she had no business wondering why Alec wasn’t at home in his apartment next to hers. She’d given up the right to know what he did at night and she shouldn’t second-guess that decision, especially after today. No one should end up stuck in the middle of a feud between a cherub and a seraph. She wouldn’t wish it on her worst enemy.

After drying off, she tossed her towel over the laundry basket and belted on a thick white terry cloth robe. Then she went on the hunt for comfort food. It was a boon of the Mark that her body ignored any attempt on her part to screw it up, including wanton snacking; otherwise her breakup with Alec would surely have given her a fat ass by now.

She was turning into the kitchen when the stereo in her living room inexplicably came on. Stevie Nicks’ beautiful “Crystal” replaced the silence, freezing Eve mid-step.

On her deltoid, the brand of the Mark of Cain – a one-inch in diameter triquetra surrounded by a circlet of three serpents, each one eating the tail of the snake before it – tingled and flooded her bloodstream with adrenaline. Her senses sharpened so quickly it was nearly a rush, the world around her bursting into a vibrancy she’d never experienced as a mere mortal. The Mark made her faster, stronger and quicker to heal. It also enabled her to identify the man in her living room from where she stood – sight unseen.

Eve started forwards again with a shiver of anticipation, continuing to where the hall emptied into the living room. The sheer curtains that framed her sliding glass doors billowed from the ocean breeze. Beyond her balcony lay the sands of Huntington Beach, a coastal community that was home to hundreds of demons. That number was just a fraction of the worldwide population of Infernals living undetected among mortals. Such was the life she lived now, having her groceries bagged by incubi and her Big Mac served by faeries.

The clink of shifting ice against metal drew her eye to the silver champagne bucket on the coffee table and the napkin-wrapped bottle it held. Two half-full flutes waited nearby.

The man at her entertainment centre turned to face her. She was struck again by how gorgeous he was. So like his brother in physical traits – smooth olive skin, black as night hair, and espresso brown eyes – but completely different in every other way. His resemblance to Alec had first drawn her to him but Reed Abel continued to hold her attention all on his own. She was halfway in love with him, which confused her and caused all sorts of trouble.

“Hi,” he said. Although he appeared casual and relaxed, his dark gaze was avid.

“Hi, yourself.”

“I hope you don’t mind that I popped in.” His choice of words was apt, considering his angelic gifts enabled him to shift from one location to any other in the world in the blink of an eye.

“You’re always welcome. Nothing is going to change that.”

He caught up the flutes as he came towards her and a cool stem was pressed into her hand. She looked down, catching sight of something circular glittering at the bottom. Her breath caught.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he murmured. His warm fingers wrapped around hers. “Because I have a question to ask you . . .”

“Reed.” A stunningly large diamond graced an engagement ring covered in tiny champagne bubbles. It was the kind of ring women turned pea green over; it shouted the wealth of the man who’d given it and the value he placed on the woman wearing it. The ostentatious piece was totally Reed, a man known as much for his Lamborghinis and Ferraris as he was for the calibre of his work.

The ferocity of her response was enough to rock her backward a few steps. The last few months of confusion coalesced into one shining moment of perfect clarity. She felt a similar jolt of reality startling him before rippling across the connection between them.

He spoke too quickly. “Zaphiel is here to investigate the recent death of a seraph. He wants you to assume a cover and move into one of Raguel’s resort communities as a resident.”