Archangel's Enigma

48

Lying lazily naked on his back afterward, having taken off his jeans so Andromeda could wear them with her tunic, Naasir watched his mate watch him. He didn’t know why, but she was shy about being naked under the sky. He didn’t mind her wearing clothes if that made her happy, since she let him strip her whenever he wanted.

But she seemed to like him naked.

Her eyes kept going to him, and she’d sigh and lean over and kiss him. Or she’d pet his chest. Or his thigh. It was having a predictable effect, but he could contain himself now that he’d satisfied the first bite of need. Eating the square of meat she’d fed him—that she’d made for him, he watched her pick up the Grimoire.

“It’s so beautiful,” she said, stroking the cover before opening the book to look at the pages again.

Moving until she was sitting with her back half-propped up against his side, one arm on his chest and her hair electric and wild from his loving, she read to him from the book, translating the words unknown to him as she went. “And it was said that the griffin was the mightiest of creatures, but that it had a madness inside it nothing could cure. It could not be tamed. Blood drenched the ground where it walked and though it was a peerless fighter, it could not be controlled and was a wild creature that did not know the hand of man.”

She turned the page. “Those who saw a griffin were forever marked by its regal appearance, for its violent and maddened heart was not visible on the surface. Its golden fur glinted in the sunlight and its wings took it aloft as high as angelkind. Even in its danger, it was too magnificent to kill.”

Turning, she showed him an illustration of a griffin flying in the sky beside an angel. “Can you imagine?”

The anger of memory stirred in him. “Legends like this drove Osiris. He wanted to make them true.” His claws sliced out. “Alexander’s brother was a melder and he decided to meld living beings.”

Putting down the Grimoire, Andromeda turned to fully face him. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice trembling. “I’m so sorry. All this time, I talked about the Grimoire and I never considered how it might hurt you.”

Naasir hadn’t meant for his words to wound her. “Your thoughts and wonder about mysterious creatures don’t hurt me,” he said, tugging her down into his arms and tucking her head against his neck. “It’s fun with you.” A game.

“Really?”

“Yes.” Andromeda’s heart wasn’t twisted, and she had no desire to cage or own any of these creatures. “I like hearing the things you have to say.”

Then, because it was time, he told her of the evil that had taken place on the ice. “I didn’t know about the Cascade before, but now that I do, I think Osiris must’ve gained his abilities in the last one. He was an Ancient like his brother, would’ve been alive then.”

Andromeda’s head moved against his chest as she nodded. “According to Jessamy’s research, while the Cascade most significantly affects archangels, it can also have an impact on a small percentage of other angels.” She stroked his chest, running her nails over his skin and the fine fur that striped it.

The petting made it bearable to go into the death and the dark. “Osiris had the ability to put two things together and make them one.” An ability no one had paid much heed to, for it seemed so frivolous. “At first, he melded inanimate objects for his and others’ amusement—a chair to a broom, or a sword to a stone. Then he decided to see if he could meld two living things together.” It had all been in the diaries Raphael had saved for Naasir.

“He started with plants and it worked. He is responsible for many of the most extraordinary flowers in the world—flowers that aren’t one color but many, or that are so unusual a hybrid, no one can work out how they ever cross-pollinated.”

Andromeda’s breath brushed his neck, her nuzzled kiss making his eyes close. “After Raphael first found me and took me to the Refuge, I used to rip the heads off all the flowers Osiris had created in front of me, but then after a while, I decided that they had beaten him and should be allowed to exist. Like me, the flowers lived where he didn’t.”

“At some point,” Andromeda said, her hand fisting on his chest as her voice vibrated with rage, “he decided to move from plants to people, to children. How can anyone justify such evil?”

“According to his diaries, it began by chance—he found an urchin boy and brought him to his old laboratory in Alexander’s territory. He intended for the boy to become a cleaner. Then his hunting dog ran into the room and he was struck by the idea of melding them. He called it a ‘glorious moment of genius.’”

Naasir pulled up Andromeda’s leg so it lay across his body. She turned a little farther and swept her wing over him. The heavy warmth, the scent of her, it anchored him to the joyous present where he had his mate in his arms and Osiris was long dead, never to commit his atrocities again.

“He tried to meld the boy and the dog then and there. The two died in a twisted mess of limbs and organs.” Naasir’s heart raged at the knowledge that that had been merely the start of Osiris’s murderous reign. “The failure only fueled his ugly desires. He bought children from poor families, or simply abducted them, paid poachers and hunters to bring him the young of animals.”

Lifting Andromeda’s hand to his mouth, he kissed her palm and forced himself to remember the peace he’d felt under the ice. No sadness, no pain, no horror. “The boy who is part of me grew up alone until the tiger cub. Osiris either stole or bought the boy when he was a baby—I never found out which.”

He ran his hand through Andromeda’s hair, bunching it up in his hand, then letting it escape in a burst of color and life. Pretty. “In his diaries, he called us his hope.” Such an ugly use of the word. “And though I wish he’d never had the satisfaction, he succeeded with the tiger cub and the boy. Osiris never worked out why and all I can tell you is that the tiger cub and the boy were best friends who helped one another survive.” The instant of change was blurry in his memory, but he knew there had been pain, such agonizing pain.

Andromeda rose up and, expression stripped of all traces of civilization, said, “I’m glad he’s dead.”

He squeezed her waist with the arm he had around her. “I tried to kill him immediately after my transformation, but I was too weak.” It had felt as if he was a broken doll, his limbs useless and his mind dull.

“It took me months and months to start thinking clearly again, though my thought patterns weren’t ‘human.’ Neither were they animal.” Rather, an amalgamation of the two. “I had to learn to walk again, talk again. Osiris wanted to know why I had two legs instead of four, why the boy’s form had taken precedence over that of the tiger cub, so he did more experiments.”

Andromeda’s eyes glinted. “I’m glad he’s dead,” she repeated, “but I want to bring him back to life so I can hack out his black heart and feed it to him.”

Naasir bared his teeth at her. “I knew you were my mate.” He drew her close with a grip around her nape, parted her lips with his own and licked his tongue against hers until her wing fluttered over him and her thigh rubbed against his.

Sliding his hand under her tunic to palm her breast, he rolled her over onto her back. His nostrils flared at her scent. Moving his hand down her quivering abdomen, he slipped it under the loose waistband of the jeans and stroked two fingers through her slickness. When he raised his head, her lips were more swollen than before and her breath shallow.

“Any more questions?” Lashes shading his eyes as he watched the rise and fall of her chest, he circled his thumb around the slippery nub at the apex of her thighs.

Gripping his biceps with one hand, she tried to glare at him but pleasure kept rippling over her. “Beast.”

He grinned. “Your beast.” Nipping at her lower lip, he used his teeth to tug at the soft flesh while he moved his fingers with a playful dexterity that made her give a startled moan and orgasm in sweet little flutters he wanted to lick up with his tongue.

His mouth watered.

Putting his lips to her ear, he said, “You’re going to be my dessert after dinner tonight. I’m going to lick you up like honey, sink my fangs into the delicate, plump flesh between your thighs.”

Her body jerked, her thighs clenching on his hand. She didn’t startle when his claws released, though he was holding flesh so soft and fragile. No surprise. His mate was as wild as him and she knew he would never hurt her.

Trembling fingers wove into his hair but her teeth on his jaw were sharp. “Not if I get my mouth on you first.”

He growled and tore off her jeans and ten minutes later, Andromeda lay sweat-drenched and naked on his chest, while his heart pounded, his entire self stretched out under the sunshine in sated bliss.

When Andromeda finally pushed up on his chest to face him, she looked deliciously used, marked by his bite and by his kiss. And the affection in her eyes . . . He basked in it. “How long till we have to go in?” he asked.

“Hours yet.” She pushed back his sweat-damp hair as his eyelids lowered. “Don’t go to sleep yet. I do have one question.”

Lazy, he didn’t bother to open his eyes. “Hmm?”

“The fact you’re a chimera doesn’t explain your vampirism.”

Naasir yawned. “Osiris was afraid I wasn’t a true, immortal chimera, that I’d die before he’d unearthed his answers. He also wanted to keep me a child so I’d be easier to control.” Especially after Naasir’s last attack had left him with claw marks shredding his face.

“Not that it would’ve saved him had I stayed a child. The day Raphael found me—after hearing about what Osiris was doing from a courier who’d seen more than he should—I’d jumped on Osiris from the ceiling, clawed out his eyes and made him slip on the stairs. His skull cracked hard enough against the stone to leave him unconscious.” At which point, Naasir had ripped out his throat and clawed open his chest cavity. “But that was Osiris’s rationalization for Making me.”

Horror and rage had his mate going stiff above him. “Making a child is strictly forbidden. Children go mad if Made. They die.”

“I came close to death, but perhaps because I was a chimera, I survived no more mad than when he began the process.”

“You were never mad.”

“I was feral.”

“That’s not madness.” Kisses on his jaw.

He turned into them, shamelessly asking for more. Andromeda gave him what he wanted, her lips as gentle as her love was fierce.

Opening his eyes so he could see that fierce love in hers, he picked up her hand to nip and kiss at her fingertips. “Those who know I ate Osiris’s heart say that perhaps I’m so strong, so immortal, because I ate the heart of an Ancient while I wasn’t yet full-grown.”

“Does that bother you?”

“No.” Naasir bared his teeth. “I like the idea of having consumed my enemy and made his power my own.”

“Me, too,” said his smart, wild mate, her eyes glinting. “You grew despite the Making.”

“Yes.” No one had expected that, those who knew of him readying themselves to deal with the distress and pain of a child who never grew, but whose understanding might get steadily older. “My growth patterns mimicked those of angelic children.”

No one knew why, but the prevailing theory was that as a chimera, he was already naturally immortal and as such, his body had fought the toxins of the Making. However, because he’d been small and weak, he hadn’t totally won the fight and thus gained certain vampiric characteristics. “Like angelkind, I haven’t measurably aged since I became an adult. We can be together for eternity.”

Andromeda’s face blanched, all happiness wiped away.

Growling, he tumbled her over onto her back and braced himself above her. “Enough, mate,” he said in a tone that wasn’t wholly human. “What are you hiding from me?”

Her throat moved, the words she spoke a harsh rasp. “Tomorrow, I must go to Charisemnon’s court.”

Naasir curled his lip over his teeth. “You must do a tribute to your archangel? I will go with you to protect you.”

“No.” Andromeda’s breathing turned labored, as if she was finding it hard to draw air into her lungs. “I’m bound to serve five hundred years in his court.”

Naasir went motionless above her. “Why are you enslaved?”

“A familial blood vow. It cannot be negotiated.”

Naasir snarled at the finality in her tone. “No one likes Charisemnon,” he said. “Just ignore the obligation.” He nipped at her lower lip, then did it again because she’d been hiding things from him that hurt her.

Nails digging into his shoulders, she narrowed her eyes. He ran a clawed hand over her cheek in warning. She didn’t look scared at all. “I like your nails in me,” he said with a grin. “Dig harder.”

A distinct grr sound from his mate. “I can’t just not turn up,” she snapped. “You know what archangels are like—they might fight amongst themselves, but they won’t support rebellion within each other’s families.”

“Things have changed.” Naasir braced himself on his forearms. “Raphael hates Charisemnon for causing the Falling. He’ll accept you into his protection.” Because she was Naasir’s, and Raphael backed his Seven.

Andromeda shook her head. “It may cost him the allegiance of those like Astaad who are more traditional.”

Naasir growled, but he didn’t argue—they both knew she was right. Astaad considered Charisemnon an enemy, but if Raphael broke such a deep angelic prohibition, it could fracture their alliance. And any infighting or serious disagreement between the allies would give Lijuan a weakness to exploit. But— “Jason took Mahiya away from Neha.”

“Our situations are very different below the surface.” Andromeda had hoped when she’d heard about the union, dug up everything she could about the princess. “The service requirement is specific to my grandfather’s court.”

“I hate vows,” Naasir muttered. “Now that we’re mated, you can’t make any more.”

“How about if I vow to love you forever?” A soft question.

“That one is allowed.” He nipped at her nose. “I love you, too, even if you keep taking stupid vows I have to break.”

She bared her teeth at him. “I didn’t choose this one.” Anger made her voice rough. “I don’t want to go, but if I don’t, Charisemnon will declare me an outcast with a price on my head. Even if Raphael doesn’t care about the blood vow, someone will—or they’ll just want the bounty. I’ll be hunted the rest of my life.” And Naasir would be hunted with her. “That’s no kind of life.”

“What about your father?”

“Cato would never go against his archangel.”

Naasir’s silver eyes locked with her own. “You know Cato isn’t your father in blood. Why are you pretending otherwise? Even had Dahariel not given you an uncommon amount of attention, your wings bear markings a step removed from his.”

Andromeda looked away, but Naasir gripped her jaw, made her meet his gaze again. Surrendering, she admitted the truth. “I was so happy when I realized,” she confessed. “I thought he was brave and strong and intelligent—and he is, but he’s also capable of gross cruelty.”

She took a ragged breath. “Ten years before I left for the Refuge, I walked into a room in my parents’ home and saw him torturing a mortal boy who was barely of age.” It had shattered Andromeda, left her heart in pieces on the floor, the hope inside her snuffed out. “He meant for me to know,” she whispered. “He could see the stars in my eyes and he wanted to erase them, to show me his true colors.” To teach her that though he wasn’t lost in a compulsive search for sensation like her parents, he was as pitilessly jaded.

Andromeda had begged him to let the mortal go. The man who was her father in blood had simply raised an eyebrow and flicked the whip once more on the boy’s back, making him whimper as blood trickled down his ravaged skin.

A soft heart can be a fatal weakness in the immortal world, a lure for the predators. If you want to survive, you’d do well to learn from my example.

Andromeda had thrown up instead.

“Dahariel is a bastard,” Naasir agreed. “But he is also Astaad’s second and can request sanctuary for you. No one will interfere as you are his child.”

Andromeda knew he was right; the archangels and old angels would deem it a private family matter since Dahariel—and thus Astaad—had as much right to her as Charisemnon. “I asked him,” she admitted in a small voice. “Fifty years ago.” She’d been desperate enough to chance the humiliation, knowing that though Dahariel was cruel, Astaad’s court was nothing like Charisemnon’s.

Naasir’s expression hardened. “He said no to his own cub? Angels love their children.”

“I think he does love me in his own twisted way.” That was what made his abandonment hurt all the more. “He told me he’d given me what he was capable of giving and that he’d continue to train me, but in every other way, I was on my own.”

“A lot has changed in fifty years.”

“Yet he’s never made the offer, though I have seen him many times for our combat sessions.” She stroked back Naasir’s hair. “I don’t think the bond ever formed deep enough for him to claim me as his own—he didn’t realize I was his until almost fifty years after my birth, when my wings settled into their final adult pattern. By then . . . it was too late for him to see me as a babe.” To feel the protective instincts of a parent.

“So you want me to wait five hundred years?”

Yes. “I can’t demand that,” she said aloud even as her soul tore in two.

He growled at her, so loud and angry that she startled. “Are you going to rut with others in Charisemnon’s court?”

“No!” She pushed at his shoulders but he refused to move. “Why would you say such a horrible thing?”

“Why would you say I shouldn’t wait for you?” It was a snarl. “If you’re mine, you’re mine. And I’m yours. Today, tomorrow, always.”

Andromeda began to cry. Hard, gulping sobs that held all her pain, all her love, all her dreams. Rolling over onto his back, Naasir crushed her close and made purring sounds in his chest as he stroked her hair and her back. “I’m sorry I growled at you,” he said, nuzzling at her. “I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I know,” she got out through her tears.

Sniffing away the last of the tears several minutes later, she just lay against him. “I wasn’t crying because of that. I was crying because you’re wonderful and I can’t bear to think of leaving you.”

“There must be a way.”

“It’s a blood vow.”

“I’m a chimera who was made of a small, fierce boy and an equally small, equally fierce cat. I can think of a way out.” He wasn’t going to let his mate end up in the court of the Archangel of Plague and Disease.