The Forsaken (19 page)

“It has been a long time since I’ve spoken angel speak but I am sure I still remember my teaching. Your voice is
fa’minua—
the purest of heavenly sounds. You are the golden note. Correction, you are my golden note.”

“I felt nothing when you said the words,” snapped Shea, pleading with her eyes for him to get off her. He ignored her. He moved his lips lower until his warm breath teased her moistened mouth. Shea stilled, hating she recalled exactly how they had felt on her.

He licked her lower lip, and used his leg to force her to open her legs under the covers to accommodate him. Glad for the thick duvet, Shea clamped her mouth shut.

“I did not think a Cherub capable of lying.” He tsked at her, but kept using his tongue like a skillful sword. Wickedly delicious, Shea hated how much she liked the feel of his wet tongue as he licked at her lower lip like her clenched mouth did not hinder him.

“I…”

Should have seen that coming.
The minute she opened her mouth, his tongue snaked in, his lips melded with hers, and a volcano of desire, the same type she’d experience in that damn alley rose up sharply through her. He moved his hand until it stroked her hair. Everything he did, as before, tender and gentle, not at all what she had expected before or now. She sensed he held himself in check. He moved his lips from her swollen mouth to her neck, pushing down the cover of the duvet until all of her neck was exposed. He mumbled dark words in a language she did not understand—but her body did. He reached up to frame her face, and the flicker of red embers glowed in his eyes.

“Do not think to ever lie to me again, Shea. I do not like it. You are mine. I have claimed you. Your honor has been saved. Do not ever attempt to take your life again. Trust me, I will hunt you down in my father’s realm and you will not like that. Trust me?”

“You’ve got to be kidding. Trust you? I don’t even know your name. And I can’t trust a—”

“Demon,” he added, looking mighty pleased with himself.

“Yes, I can’t trust the demon who stole my soul.”

“Is that what I did? I took something from you that you did not willingly give? Keep telling that lie to yourself but you have been warned. Do not lie to me again.”

Shea sputtered. “I…”

A loud knock startled them both. True fear and alarm filtered through her as she attempted to push him off.

“You have to leave,” she panted.

He shook his head. “I am not leaving you until you admit the truth of what happened between us. You should feel no shame.”

Hissing, she continued to push at his bulk. “I cannot tell them I willingly allowed my soul to be taken by you. You’re nuts.”

He cut her a smile. “That’s exactly what I said to your Mistress when she sought me. See, we are more alike than you thought.” He eased off her, but his hands continued to caress her hair.

“Shea, can I come in?”

Isabella’s voice felt like cold water on Shea. Of all the sisters she most did not want to see, it was Isabella.

“Should I tell her to leave?” teased the demon.

“Stop touching me. I can’t think,” she whispered, pushing him off her.

He gave a satisfied chuckle.

“Shea, is there someone in there with you?” asked Isabella.

“You can tell her. She knows about me,” admitted the demon.

Shea wildly shook her head. She hated having to refer to him as a demon. “What’s your name?”

“If you willingly agree to be my mate, I will tell you my true name. And, Shea, I should warn you that when we joined I learned all about you. I will look after you and your own. But I do not tell you my name lightly. I might be free of my father’s realm but I am still demon. Knowing my name holds power. This I grant to thee, my
b’iã
.”

Shea sucked in her breath. “What? What are you talking about?”

“I will tell you my true name. The rest call me Ash, but for you, only the truth. I know the secret you prayed and sung to every day before you fell to Earth and I will save her.”

“You know nothing about me.”

He glared at her. “I know you are twin born and that you pray for the safety of your sister. Cherubs cannot share a soul, but you do. I know you suffered like me in childhood to protect her. I will protect her.”

“The only thing you will do is bring her to me.”

Isabella knocked louder. “I’m giving you two minutes, Shea, and then I’m coming in. We have something serious to talk about.”

Nothing can be as serious as this,
thought Shea, looking desperately for a way to get him to leave without calling attention to Isabella.

He lowered his eyes, his pupils turning from red to dark brown. “Trust is earned.”

Shea stilled when he leaned over her. His mouth dropped to her ear and then the ancient scripture of his words—his name—trailed into her mind and body. It was the most beautiful, powerful word she’d ever absorbed. He backed off, nodded at her, and then, with one look of longing, snapped his fingers. He vanished before her eyes, startling her. If ever she had to recall he was demon-born that was proof positive. No angel had power like that.

With shaky legs, Shea stood, moved to the door and opened it.

Izzy’s gaze darted around the bedroom. “Who were you speaking with?”

“No one,” mumbled Shea moving back to the safety of her bed.
Only the demon who has claimed me as his heavenly demon wife.
Choking on that thought, she closed her eyes, her mind savoring the feel of his true name as it licked at her consciousness. He’d told her there was power in knowing his true name.

She pondered what to do with it.

Chapter Fifteen

Nat avoided the Seraphim safe house. He couldn’t pray or concentrate in the immaculate house filled with a gazillion electronic gadgets. His feet lead him to the place where his soul sought relief and without fully being aware of it he once again stood on the steps of the synagogue. Pushing slightly on the door, the openness of the synagogue continued to surprise him. He stepped through the wide oak doors to be greeted by the rabbi.

“Ah, it is good to see you again, my son. I would ask how goes your problem with your fiancée, but by the look on your face, things are not great. Am I correct?”

“It’s complicated.”

“They usually are,” answered the rabbi, ushering Nat inside with a smile and warm pat on the back.

Small talk had never been Nat’s strong suit, so he launched into what he needed.

“You are asking for me to lock you in a room with no food or water and not to worry.” The rabbi paused. Nat knew he wasn’t done. “You test me. This is some joke, right?”

Nathanael stood his ground and shook his head. “Sadly, no. I need privacy. Uninterrupted. If after seven days I do not emerge, I grant you permission to enter.”

“Enter and find what? You dead on my floor? That’s just what I need to deal with,” taunted the rabbi, looking clearly worried.

Nat wasn’t immune to serving penance, having recently completed a week of diligence. His sore back a reminder of the daunting task he set upon.
What choice do I have?
“Fear naught, I have suffered far longer. A week for me is nothing.”

The rabbi struggled to find the proper words but none came.

“There you go with that funny talk again,” said the rabbi, attempting to lighten the mood. Nathanael could tell when the rabbi looked at him he saw something more than his human facade. “My son, your faith is strong. Let it guide you. Come, I will show you to a special room. It is not much, but you will have all the privacy you seek. But hear me, I will come charging in like a bull if I have not heard from you on the seventh day, make no mistake.”

Nat chuckled.
This human does the good of mankind. Maybe they are not all that bad.
Nat was reminded how transformed his Seraphim thinking had become in such a short span of time on Earth.
No wonder Isabella acts the way she does. Assimilating means change, and in our heavenly realm, most change equates a negative reaction.

“Here, take this key. The door sticks so you might have to give it a good kick. I’m not walking down those steps. Body’s not as young as yours. Now, can I get you anything?”

“No. Thank you. I am honored by your kindness.” Nat bowed, feeling as if he faced a Seraphim elder.

The rabbi touched his shoulder. “I am not sure where you come from, and for now, think it best I do not know. I trust you. There is something pure in you and I shall take comfort in that. I shall leave you now. Lock the door behind you.” He winked. “I have a spare key.”

With that, the rabbi squeezed his shoulder, turned, and left. He made his way down the sharp-angled steps. Nat used the key and then proceeded to kick the door open. Inside he made sure to lock himself in. He eyed the cold concrete floor and grimaced. Nat removed the purple spiritual candle Meredith had handed to him on his way out of Isabella’s building from his jacket pocket. He blew on the candle. His angel breath instantly caused it to flame. After placing the candle in the middle of the floor, he disrobed, setting his mind to his task. Shivering instantly as the damp basement seeped into his bones, Nathanael prayed for guidance. Prostrating himself, he settled his bones in for a long wait.

* * *

“I was talking to myself,” said Shea to Izzy.

Izzy didn’t buy it, but she didn’t want to upset Shea when she sought to comfort her. “I told Meredith a sister was to be with you at all times.”

Shea scoffed. Calmly, she slipped on a pair of jeans and a baggie hoodie. “Really, Izzy, I am fine. I don’t require a babysitter. You worry for no reason.”

Izzy let the silence thicken the air, her eyes not once leaving Shea. “Great. Then you’ll honor swear to me you will not attempt to end your life.”

She smiled. “I honor swear I won’t.”

That was too easy.
Izzy’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the Cherub. Shea seemed so tiny compared to the rest of them, but she always had been so. Tiny in height and small in frame, Shea had the most powerful heavenly Cherub voice Izzy had heard. She stood exactly five feet and was the smallest Cherub on record. A distinction she didn’t like. That had been part of the reason Shea had been eager to take up arms with the rest of them. She wanted to prove her own worth. Izzy understood her motivation.

“Did they already eat?”

“What?” asked Izzy.

“I am hungry. Did my other sisters eat?”

Izzy smiled, feeling foolish. “Shea let us go together to find some food. I heard Nayla made one of her Mexican experiments again and I’m sure it will be delicious.” Izzy still wasn’t buying Shea’s quick escape, but the thought of eating one of Nayla’s salivating concoctions was irresistible.

Izzy’s stomach grumbled. She wondered why they weren’t all fat. Nayla had taken on the role as chef and none had dissuaded her. She worked daily miracles in the small kitchen.

* * *

Izzy grew anxious with the onslaught of each day and night. Time was her new enemy. Four days had passed since Nathanael left. She tried hard not to picture him lying naked in prayer, failing miserably. Izzy also didn’t like worrying about his welfare. As stubborn as her, he’d starve in his quest to reach the Mistress before giving in.

For the first time in a long while, Izzy did not know what to do. Always she took command. She’d been the one to find all her exiled sisters. The one to work her voice to ensure they had food and a roof over their heads. The one who used her smarts to save money, to allow Michael to become her business partner while securing a building to house all of them. She sought to create harmony, to shelter them as much as she could from the wicked lure of the sins of man. She might not always be successful but she’d try with all her might to keep them safe. Now, since Nathanael had landed on their turf, things had changed. Izzy realized she had slowly slipped back to the Cherub tradition of letting the Seraphim lead the way.

Sighing heavily, she decided she’d had enough of that. She took a spiritual candle, and lit it. Izzy disrobed fast, to pull on a light white robe. Feeling purified, she went to her knees, stretched out her arms above her head, and began to hum. Only when she’d centered herself, her breathing deep and even, did she launch into a heavenly chant, opening her soul, praying for the first time for forgiveness.

“Isabella, thou may rise.”

At first Izzy wasn’t sure she’d heard true. When she turned her head and saw the Mistress’s form hovering, fully cloaked, looking like she had years ago, Izzy was stunned.

“Thou may rise, my daughter. I am pleased by what I see in your heart.”

Izzy did as instructed. The Mistress moved over toward Izzy’s bed and then proceeded to sit on it. A number of reactions sailed through Izzy—dismay, surprise, and a speck of fear.

“Thy time has been served well and now we have much to discuss,” said the Mistress.

Turning to face the Mistress, Izzy made sure to keep her head bowed and her hands folded in prayer. “I am yours to do with.” Speaking in angel speak,
reciting the proper etiquette of words felt wrong to Izzy. She did it anyway.

The Mistress took Izzy’s folded hands in her gloved ones. An electrical jolt traveled through Izzy. “It pleases me greatly you have not forgotten your Cherub traditions, my daughter.”

Izzy tried not to grimace. She felt no more the Mistress’s daughter than an angel.

“Tell me, how fare my Cherubs these last years in exile?”

Izzy’s head instantly snapped up to look up. “You knew?” Izzy blurted out the question without thought.

“Do not disappoint me with insular questions. I know all. Heed that,” she admonished.

Izzy bowed her head. “Of course, Mistress. I meant no disrespect. We have survived.” Izzy did not wish to disclose anything else.
What’s the point, if she’s omniscient and all?

“I had no doubt you would. Now about your Seraphim. The call is yours. Should I heed his prayer, or do you wish to make him suffer more?” asked the Mistress, patting the spot next to her on the bed, inviting Izzy to sit.