Soul Mates: Sacrifice Read online

  "I'm afraid there's nothing you can do for him," he said. "He must fulfill the terms of his punishment."

  I propped myself on my elbow. "No matter what he did, I think the punishment was harsh—considering who his commanding angel was. If Simon did something wrong, it was only because he thought he was doing the right thing."

  "You don't want to get in the middle of this, Peter."

  "I'm already in the middle of this. Simon is a member of this coven and if there's something I can do to help him, I'm going to do it."

  "And damn the consequences?" He sighed and met my eyes. "What do you want to know?"

  I resisted the urge to grin like a fool.

  "Thank you, Sabaan."

  "Don't thank me yet." He kissed the top of my head. "You'll be okay for a minute or so? I'll go get my book."

  I nodded.

  In the next moment, he was gone. It was still disconcerting as hell to have him pop in and out of the room, but for some reason I trusted that he'd behave about it. I had a feeling that if he ever popped into the bedroom while Lucien was awake, Lucien might just kill him for it.

  Chapter Nine

  The minutes ticked by and just when I thought Sabaan had found something better to do than warm me up and tell me about angels, he reappeared. He frowned when he looked around and realized that he was standing on a chair.

  "Hate it when I misjudge a room."

  "Could've been worse." I laughed. "You could've ended up in the fire."

  "Fire does not harm those who can control it." He winked and stepped down off the chair. "How are you feeling?"

  "Better. Much warmer, thanks."

  "Good." He sat down beside me, a weathered, leather-bound book in his lap. "Your color looks better, too."

  "So I don't look half dead anymore?"

  "Oh. Well. I wouldn't go that far. You're still pretty…" He seemed to think better of his words, smiled, then patted my hand. "Yes! Pretty."

  "Don't make me beat you, Sabaan."

  "Would you?" He leaned in, tongue just barely grazing my ear. "Who do you think would enjoy themselves more?"

  I groaned and pushed him back. "Angels?"'

  He frowned. "Terrible things, aren't they?"

  "Sabaan!"

  "Sorry, sorry." He shifted his position a little and started to open the book, but paused. "You should know that I'm no expert. You'll have to take the information with a grain of salt and come to your own decisions."

  "I think I'm capable of that."

  I reached for the book, but Sabaan wrested it from my hands before I got a good grip on it.

  "Silly boy. Unless you can magically read my language, I suggest you leave the book to me." He opened the book and searched through a few pages before settling on one. "Now. Where do you want to start?"

  I thought about it for a moment.

  "I know that angels aren't as I've always imagined them."

  "How so?"

  "Biblical and all."

  "Good grief, who told you that?" He held his hand up, waving away my answer before the name ever formed on my lips. "Never mind. I know exactly who. Let's get a little something out of the way here: Nikolas believes what he believes about certain things because he has to—not necessarily because it's true."

  "Meaning?"

  "Meaning that the only way he stays sane is to believe that some creature that's supposed to be all about life and love and protection didn't kill his sister just to hear her scream."

  "Cyril." Sabaan nodded, and I sighed. "Maybe we should start with him. You wouldn't happen to know what's going on with him at the moment, would you?"

  "I have been trying to get information on him and his whereabouts, but the only thing I've found out is that his superior is dealing with him."

  "That's pretty much the same thing Daniel told me," I said. "It doesn't make me feel too much better."

  "I can't see why it should. This isn't the first time they've had problems with Cyril. As you can probably guess, there were problems when he was a mere Watcher. After what happened with Simon, Cyril was held partially responsible and moved to a different position."

  "For what? As he is now?"

  "Well, they figured that he just wasn't a good Watcher. That maybe he'd make a better Warrior."

  "So, let me get this straight: Cyril got moved to a different position and Simon got physically punished? That doesn't sound fair at all."

  "I believe that if Simon had begged for a reprieve, he might have gotten it. He may not have had to spend the last," he paused to think, "however many years with this pain."

  "That's not Simon," I said, shaking my head. "He'd never beg for mercy."

  Sabaan nodded. "He'd take the punishment and he'd live with it. So, why do you want to interfere with this? This is something he's accepted."

  "He might have accepted it, Sabaan, but—" I thought back to the throne room, to the pain and sadness Simon fought so hard to hide. "He's broken. There's an emptiness in him that shouldn't be there and I want him whole again."

  "He may never be."

  "Why?"

  "Regardless of how happy he may seem here, one fact remains: he's an angel that's been cast out of his realm. He'll always want to go home. But he can't go back."

  "What does that have to do with anything?"

  "He's been here, living as human, for too long. Other angels don't take too kindly to that. He would be marked, tarnished. And, even if he were to get his wings back and his physical pain taken away, he will never, ever fit in here either. He'll forever miss what he had before. I can guarantee that if you ask him about home—he won't think you mean here."

  I hated that this was beginning to sound like something I couldn't fix. But even if I couldn't, I was going to do my best to at least try. After all, trying never hurt a fucking thing.

  "Daniel has already pretty much said that the Council's hands are tied when it comes to the affairs of angels."

  "Not necessarily," Sabaan said. "While the Council has a limited power over them, the angels are interested in having a vote on things. Which is why Cyril had a seat."

  "The seat I've been offered."

  Black eyes met mine. "You're kidding."

  I shook my head.

  "You just may have some leverage, then." Sabaan opened the book, skimming through a few pages before settling on one. He didn't look up as he spoke. "Have you given an answer yet?"

  "No."

  "Do you know what your answer might be?"

  "Don't know." I lay back, staring up at the ceiling. "On the one hand, it's got a fucking mess of benefits. Not just for me, but for Lucien and the rest of the coven. On the other hand, there's the whole once-in-hard-to-get-out thing. Not sure how I feel about giving them at least fifty years of service."

  "I wouldn't worry about the time commitment. If they want you badly enough to offer you a position while you're still a puny human? I'd say that's a negotiating point."

  I slugged him. "Don't be an asshole."

  "Just saying…"

  I glanced over to what he was reading. "Looking for something in particular?"

  "What?" He looked up, then shook his head. "Oh, no. Just a name. Look. I think you're going to have a hell of a time if you decide to go through with this. But I'm willing to give you names to at least help you out."

  "Gee, Sabaan. Thanks."

  "You're so very welcome." He grinned, closed the book, and set it aside before stretching out next to me. "First thing you'll have to do is negotiate with Daniel. Use Cyril as an excuse for not wanting to take the seat. After all, if Cyril is the kind of person the Council takes, then why in hell would you want to be a part of it?"

  "But he's already—"

  Sabaan's fingers covered my mouth, shutting me up.

  "Gone? Yes. But, it won't hurt to play on that some more. And how do you know he's really gone? How do you know he won't escape from wherever he's being held? Really, I think the Council should try to make some sort of amends to you and
the coven for the hell you were put through by one of its members. Surely they can do one measly favor for you and let you speak to the person in charge of Cyril's punishment."

  I was beginning to see his point. "And if I got to speak to whoever that is…"

  "Then you'd have him right there to inquire about Simon and his situation. It all boils down to politics, pretty one. And if you can pull off the necessary grandstanding to make it work."

  "So who should I demand to speak with?"

  "The one you want is going to be Zephyr. He's one step above Cyril and is the commander of the Warrior angels. He will know what's been done with Cyril—and he'll also have first hand knowledge of Simon and his situation, since he's the one who had to clean up after the mess."

  "Was it such a big mess?"

  "Sort of. See, when someone is fated to die, and someone intervenes and prevents the passing? Someone else must fill that spot. So, while Simon saved one that should have died, he caused the death of someone that should have remained alive." Sabaan sighed and turned to face me, tracing my jaw with a blackened fingernail. "I know it seems such a small thing, but it alters the course of the fates—and of history as it should be. Some things were forever changed in that moment."

  "Still. I think he got shafted."

  "I'm sure." He shrugged. "Cyril was his trainer—his partner."

  "Tell me something, Sabaan?"

  "Anything."

  "How do you kill an angel?"

  He smiled sadly. "I’m afraid that you can't."

  "So wanting his head on a platter is nothing but a wish that'll never be fulfilled?"

  "You'd be better off hoping he's condemned to an eternity in hell. Because, whether his commanders want to believe it or not, he's an angel that has fallen—and fallen far. There is no good in him."

  "Speaking of hell…" I bit at my lip. "I'm wrong about demons being from there. Right?"

  "Oh, no," he answered. "Some are. But me? No. I'm not."

  "Where are you from?"

  "That's not important, Peter," he said, lying back on his pillow. "All that matters is that I'm here now."

  "I'd like to know. About you. Where you're from. Do you have… I don't know. Family?"

  "I did. Once." His face was suddenly awash in a myriad of emotions, mostly sadness and despair. "Before I killed them."

  "Before you—?"

  "I'd really rather not talk about it."

  "And I'm all about the right to privacy, but you can't just throw something like that out there and expect me to leave it alone."

  He held out his hand and a flame appeared in his palm. It was golden in color, intermixed with a flicker of blue. The longer he held it, the bigger it grew. It began to travel up his arm, but nothing burned. He took my hand and ran the hand covered in flames over it.

  Warmth surrounded me, but it didn't hurt. I watched in amazement as the flames flickered across my skin.

  "Wow."

  He sighed and pulled his hand away, the fire dissipating.

  "Simple parlor tricks to some, but for a young demon coming into his powers? Very hard to control. Especially if it's not a power he should have in the first place."

  I just knew where this was leading. "I'm so sorry, Sabaan."

  He ignored the sentiment. "Where I'm from, our families live in compounds. One entire family in one place. Unlike some races, we have a need to be close to our family. We're not like humans, who seem to think they must leave home at a certain age and strike out on their own."

  "I think that depends on the culture. I know several people who live in family groups."

  Sabaan shrugged. "One night, as everyone slept, I had this… dream. It was nothing but heat and flame and when I woke, I was in the midst of a roaring blaze, the compound crumbling around me." He paused for a moment, closing his eyes. "There is no way to describe the moment when I realized that the screams of terror and pain coming from the ones I loved were caused by me—and that I had no clue of how to stop it or control it."

  "Is that why you live underground surrounded by steel and concrete?"

  "It's my only way of being assured that I won't kill anyone else." He opened one eye, smirking. "Unintentionally, of course."

  "Jesus, Sabaan. I can't even imagine living with that."

  He looked at me then. "They say time heals all wounds, but it really doesn't. It just makes them hurt a little less every year."

  Coming up short on words, I leaned over and kissed him. Just a soft press of my lips to his, hoping to offer my comfort and sympathy in something other than words. When I pulled back, he rose up, searching me out again. His lips met mine hesitantly, as if he was asking instead of just taking.

  But Sabaan's kisses were dangerous. No way was I going to get caught up in him or his kiss and blatantly disrespect Lucien. It took a few tries, but I finally managed to pull away completely. I licked at my lips, the taste of Sabaan still lingering.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I only wanted a taste."

  "He is rather addictive."

  My heart stopped at the sound of Lucien's voice. I looked up to find him leaning casually over the back of the couch. Shit. How had I not known he was there? How long had he been there?

  "Lucien, hey." I started to get up, but he stilled me with a gesture of his hand. I settled, still nervous. "I didn't hear you come in."

  "I know."

  Lucien glanced at Sabaan, who hadn't dared to move at all. He seemed to be trying hard to act as if he was just sprawled against the pillows, but the tension in his body made him look less than relaxed.

  "You were in my private chambers."

  "It was unintentional, I assure you. I was only seeking out Peter."

  "You have tasted his blood, then?"

  "A teeny bit," Sabaan replied, gesturing with his thumb and forefinger. "And it was mostly by accident."

  Lucien grumbled. "Mostly?"

  Fucking hell. This shit could go on all night.

  I held out my hand invitingly, hoping we could avoid any sort of fight. Either with Lucien and Sabaan—or Lucien and me. "Come sit, Lucien."

  Lucien straightened and walked around the end of the couch. Instead of sitting on it, as I assumed he would, he sat on the floor between me and the couch, leaning against it. He held my gaze for a long while before looking over at Sabaan.

  Sabaan was now propped up with his elbows, that tail of his flicking slowly back and forth, teasing along the inside of one of his thighs. He trained his eyes on Lucien, but didn't say anything. He just seemed to be…waiting.

  The air in the room became thick. The heat level rose and sweat broke out over my entire body. My robe was too much, too hot. The fire was too much. I loosened the belt, but before I managed to get it undone, Lucien's hand covered mine, stopping me.

  "I'm grateful that you helped Peter to find me."

  "What I did was nothing above and beyond. I was only helping out a friend."

  "And you did not hold my past mistakes against him. Thank you for that."

  "Past?" Sabaan's tail wrapped around Lucien's wrist, brushing low against my belly as it did, drawing my eyes downward. "Why, Lucien, I do believe that some of these things weren't too far in the past."

  Lucien closed his eyes, jaw twitching. "No, they weren't."

  I suddenly had images running through my head of the three of us in the throes of orgasm, Lucien and I fucking Sabaan, Sabaan's tail inside… I whimpered and rose to my knees, hand fumbling at my belt, trying to get out from under Lucien's grasp.

  "Stop, Sabaan." Lucien's voice seemed so far away, yet he was right there, still touching me. "This is too much."

  "It's not just me," Sabaan replied, clearly amused.

  "Both of you stop, goddamnit!" My balls ached, cock filling. "Decide what you want, play or talk—or I'm going to decide for you."

  "What would you decide?"

  "Shut up, Sabaan."

  "Lucien, please!" I tugged his hips against mine, groaning when his hard length pu
shed against mine. "You don't want to do this, do you? You don't want to be with Sabaan…"

  "Filthy demon," Lucien hissed, casting a glare at Sabaan. "Always wanting to fuck."

  Sabaan was suddenly on his knees, almost wedged between us. He leaned over and licked at Lucien's throat, that forked tongue working over Lucien's skin making me groan. I couldn't just watch. I leaned in and joined Sabaan, stealing a taste of Lucien, savoring the lust and the heat radiating off him.