Crave (Fallen Angels 2)

Although . . . just to be sure, he was keeping the bulletproof vest on until dawn.

No reason to take being alive for granted.

Chapter Fifty-one

"Jim? You out there, Jim?"

As Isaac's eyes searched the trees, Jim stood no more than three feet away from the guy and he wished he could hug the motherfucker. God . . . when those two gunshots had gone off and he'd watched through the kitchen windows as both Matthias and Rothe went down, years had been shaved off his eternal life.

But Isaac had been okay. He'd saved himself with some very clear, defensive thinking. Just as he'd been trained to do.

"Jim?"

And now, as he stared at his fellow soldier, pure, unadulterated elation flooded him. He'd won. Again.

Fuck you, Devina, he thought. Fuck you.

Isaac was alive and so were Grier and her father. And in spite of getting the soul wrong in the beginning, things had worked out properly--although Nigel's punishment thing had turned out to be a nonissue, hadn't it.

Jim looked over his shoulder at Adrian and Eddie and was surprised to find that they weren't all smiles.

"What's wrong--"

He didn't get a chance to finish the sentence. A mad swirling rush rose from his feet, twirling around him, rising up to claim his legs and hips and chest. He tried to fight it, but couldn't run from--

His molecules scrambled and scattered until he was a swarm of himself that moved out of the dimensions of time and space, traveling to some unknown destination.

When he coalesced, he knew just where he was . . . and the sight of Devina's worktable made his gut sour.

He had not won. Had he.

"No, you did not," she said from behind him.

Turning on his heel, he looked at her as she came in through the archway. She was in her brunette form, all lovely and lush and fake as a Barbie version of herself.

She smiled, her red lips curling off her beautiful white teeth. "Matthias shot Isaac with the intent to kill him. Whether or not there was a death is not the measure. There was mens rea--a guilty mind."

Above her head, a black flag hung from the black wall, the first trophey for her.

"You lost, Jim." That smile got even wider as she lifted her arms and indicated her great, viscous prison that rose high above them both. "He's here now, mine forever."

Jim's hands curled into fists. "You cheated."

"Did I."

"You pretended to be me, didn't you. That must have been how Matthias got into the farmhouse. You either made him look like me or you appeared as me."

Her smug satisfaction was all the confirmation he needed.

"Now, now, Jim--I never cheat. So I don't know what you're talking about." Devina strolled over to him, approaching him in a sensuous glide. "Say, would you care to stay awhile? I've got some ideas for how we could spend the time."

When she was right in front of him, her red-tipped nails drifted up his chest and she leaned in. "I love being with you, Jim."

With a hard clap, he captured her wrist and squeezed hard enough to break it. "You must be a glutton for punishment. In case you don't remember, I shattered you last trip through the park."

The bitch had the nerve to pout. "You're hurting me."

He didn't believe that for a second. "And you'll say or do anything."

Now she smiled again. "Too right, Jim, my love. Too right."

He dropped his hold as if she burned him, his stomach clenching up as he recognized the light in her eyes.

"That's right, Jim," she murmured. "I have feelings for you. And that scares you, doesn't it. Afraid you'll reciprocate?"

"Not. At. All."

"Ah, well, we'll have to work on that."

Before he could stop her, she rose up and captured his mouth, kissing him quick and then biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

She stepped back fast, as if she knew she was pushing it. "Bye for now, Jim. But we'll be seeing each other soon. I promise."

With disgust, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and spat on her floor. And he was about to cut her down, when he frowned, thinking of what Nigel had said on the lawn.

Know that you shall go farther in this game if you use your head rather than your anger.

Now Jim was the one smiling--albeit grimly. There were worse things than having your enemy fall in love with you: As strong as she was, as unpredictable and dangerous as her powers were, that look in her eyes right now, that burning, out-of-control look, was a weapon.

Beating back his own emotions, he found himself reaching down and jacking his c**k with his palm.

Devina's reaction was instantaneous and electric. Her hot stare flashed to his hips, her mouth parting like she couldn't catch enough air, her br**sts rising over the bodice of her dress.

"You want this?" he asked gruffly.

Like a puppet, she nodded.

"Not good enough," he told her, hating her, hating himself. "Say it, bitch. Say it."

In a hoarse, hungry voice, she breathed, "I crave you. . . ."

Jim released the hold on himself, feeling filthy inside and out. But war was ugly, wasn't it, even if you were on the good, moral side.

Means to an end, he thought. His body and her need were means to an end, and he would use them if he had to.

"Good," he growled. "That's good."

With that, he willed his body to rise up from the floor, this time the twisting energy summoned up by him and no one else.

As he levitated higher and higher, Devina reached for him, her face contouring into a kind of painful desire that juiced him up.

And then he wasn't looking at her anymore; he was scanning the walls of her dungeon, searching for the girl he hated leaving behind yet again . . . as well as the boss he had tried to save and failed.

He would be back for the former. But the latter . . . he feared that Matthias had been laid to rest for an eternity, his never-ending suffering having been well-earned.

Jim mourned the loss of the man, however.

He'd wanted to redeem the guy.

Jim came back to consciousness on Captain Alistair Childe's lawn. And as he thought back to his first assignment, it seemed he excelled at coming and going on grass. Adrian and Eddie were on either side of him, the two angels grave and serious.

"We lost," Jim said. As if they didn't already know.

Adrian put his hand out, and when Jim reached up, the guy helped pull him to his feet. "We lost," Jim muttered again.

Looking over his shoulder, he thought briefly about going into the farmhouse and helping Isaac take care of Matthias's remains, but he decided to stay put. The soldier was going to have a hard enough time making sense of all the things that couldn't be explained--more contact with Jim was just going to give him another thing to get f**ked in the head about.

"Caldwell," Jim said to his boys. "We're going back to Caldwell."

"Fair enough," Eddie murmured, like he wasn't surprised in the slightest.

And Jim wasn't going to worry who was next in the game. As he'd learned with this particular assignment, the souls were going to find him. So he might as well follow what the center of his chest was telling him: namely that it was about time for the Barten family to have their daughter's body to bury properly.

Jim was just the angel to make that happen.

Unfurling his great, luminescent wings, he took one last stare through the kitchen windows. Isaac Rothe was working with grim purpose, handling things with the same kind of competence and strength as he always had.

He was going to be fine--provided he was smart enough to hang around with that attorney. God, if you were lucky enough to find love like that? Only a fool would turn that shit down.

Jim took to the night sky as if he'd been born to it, his wings carrying him through the cool air, the wind hitting his face and fingering through his hair, his team of two right behind him.

Next battle he was going to be quicker on the dime. And he was going to use his new weapon against Devina to its fullest advantage.

Even if it killed him.

Chapter Fifty-two

One week later . . .

As Grier got undressed in her closet, she hung her black suit up along with the others and found it impossible not to remember the way everything had been arranged before. Suits had previously been to the left of the door. Now they were straight ahead.

In just her silk blouse and her stockings, she padded around, touching her clothes, wondering which had been rehung that afternoon by her . . . and what Isaac had done after she'd left.

Closing her eyes, she wanted to weep but didn't have the energy.