refuse?”
“You would do so? Even knowing the suffering to come?” A pause. Heavy silence weighed on Mikos’s shoulders. “Even knowing your chance at redemption would disappear?” Michael finished.
“A threat?” Mikos scowled. Back muscles throbbed as his wings ached to explode from their confines. To flee from the demands of the task Michael set before him. A task that already threatened to upset his carefully cultivated plans.
“Not a threat. A choice.”
Damnation. Another choice that wasn’t a choice. Mikos’s mind’s eye flashed with the memory of the woman who had just left. Long black hair fell in soft waves to the middle of her back. Sooty lashes framed cinnamon-shaded eyes touched with the shadows of loneliness and betrayal. High cheekbones dominated a face much too strong for delicacy, yet arresting in its strength. The real danger to his soul etched in every sensuous line of her supple body.
A test? Another battle to fight with his baser instincts?
Or another chance to fail?
Maybe his last.
“There is no one else,” Michael said, his voice stark yet gentle.
Unyielding.
Unsurprising.
Mikos growled, his jaw clenching. By the Light, he had no other choice. Not if he wanted to save his soul. He nodded, not yet trusting his voice. Or words.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet, Archangel.” Mikos turned away. So much for silence.
“Mikos ne’Tyomni.” The hard, humorless edge of Michael’s tone and the use of Mikos’s full name yanked him around.
“You must not fail in this task. Not only does your fate rest in your success, but also the fate of mortals. She must take up the mantle of a defender. It is past time for her to do so.”
With the final admonition, Michael disappeared in an intense burst of silvery radiance that left dancing motes of light sparking behind Mikos’s vision.
He rubbed the top of his hand under his jaw. Save me from cryptic archangels . Smothering a growl, he walked over to the couch. When he sat, he convinced himself he could feel the flush of heat from Lexi’s body lingering in the cushions. He closed his eyes and let himself drift. Her vanilla and cinnamon scent warmed him, left him with sensations he didn’t want. Or need. They reminded him too much of what he’d been before he changed.
His mind burned with the memory of the women. His first contacts with the darker emotions. Lust. Greed. Pride.
Lust had come first. The lush figures of the mortal women, their long hair cascading over naked skin glowing with a vitality that drew him like a bee to honey. The sweetly intoxicating musk of warm bodies and the salty taste of silken female flesh. Tender fingers that danced over heated flesh. Hunger swelled, the memories of soul-touching ecstasy flooding his body.
Mikos sucked in air and jerked upright, his heart wedged in his throat. Beatus Deus , it had been a long time since he’d let himself recall his past. Why now? Because of the woman? Despite the exotic tilt of her eyes and full lips, he’d seen lovelier. And with sweeter dispositions. Yet, since he’d seen her dance, she’d touched the part of him he’d locked down when he left Hell. When he’d realized the soul-stealing error he’d made so many thousands of years ago.
Mikos ran fingers through his hair. Long ago, unexplainable lust for mortal women had weakened him, leaving him open to the lure of a charismatic being who believed he was better than the mortals he protected. Who refused to be subservient to men made of frail material. Who felt betrayed by God’s love for the humans.
Two hundred souls agreed with Lucifer, and one of them was Mikos. He didn’t blame Lucifer. After all, Mikos chose the pleasures of the flesh over duty. He’d not make that mistake again.
The air shifted. “So, boss, what now?” Agrigorockie, the shapeshifter Mikos had christened as Rocky blinked into view. “The hot dame didn’t stay long. You scare her away?”
Mikos frowned and rose to his
“You would do so? Even knowing the suffering to come?” A pause. Heavy silence weighed on Mikos’s shoulders. “Even knowing your chance at redemption would disappear?” Michael finished.
“A threat?” Mikos scowled. Back muscles throbbed as his wings ached to explode from their confines. To flee from the demands of the task Michael set before him. A task that already threatened to upset his carefully cultivated plans.
“Not a threat. A choice.”
Damnation. Another choice that wasn’t a choice. Mikos’s mind’s eye flashed with the memory of the woman who had just left. Long black hair fell in soft waves to the middle of her back. Sooty lashes framed cinnamon-shaded eyes touched with the shadows of loneliness and betrayal. High cheekbones dominated a face much too strong for delicacy, yet arresting in its strength. The real danger to his soul etched in every sensuous line of her supple body.
A test? Another battle to fight with his baser instincts?
Or another chance to fail?
Maybe his last.
“There is no one else,” Michael said, his voice stark yet gentle.
Unyielding.
Unsurprising.
Mikos growled, his jaw clenching. By the Light, he had no other choice. Not if he wanted to save his soul. He nodded, not yet trusting his voice. Or words.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet, Archangel.” Mikos turned away. So much for silence.
“Mikos ne’Tyomni.” The hard, humorless edge of Michael’s tone and the use of Mikos’s full name yanked him around.
“You must not fail in this task. Not only does your fate rest in your success, but also the fate of mortals. She must take up the mantle of a defender. It is past time for her to do so.”
With the final admonition, Michael disappeared in an intense burst of silvery radiance that left dancing motes of light sparking behind Mikos’s vision.
He rubbed the top of his hand under his jaw. Save me from cryptic archangels . Smothering a growl, he walked over to the couch. When he sat, he convinced himself he could feel the flush of heat from Lexi’s body lingering in the cushions. He closed his eyes and let himself drift. Her vanilla and cinnamon scent warmed him, left him with sensations he didn’t want. Or need. They reminded him too much of what he’d been before he changed.
His mind burned with the memory of the women. His first contacts with the darker emotions. Lust. Greed. Pride.
Lust had come first. The lush figures of the mortal women, their long hair cascading over naked skin glowing with a vitality that drew him like a bee to honey. The sweetly intoxicating musk of warm bodies and the salty taste of silken female flesh. Tender fingers that danced over heated flesh. Hunger swelled, the memories of soul-touching ecstasy flooding his body.
Mikos sucked in air and jerked upright, his heart wedged in his throat. Beatus Deus , it had been a long time since he’d let himself recall his past. Why now? Because of the woman? Despite the exotic tilt of her eyes and full lips, he’d seen lovelier. And with sweeter dispositions. Yet, since he’d seen her dance, she’d touched the part of him he’d locked down when he left Hell. When he’d realized the soul-stealing error he’d made so many thousands of years ago.
Mikos ran fingers through his hair. Long ago, unexplainable lust for mortal women had weakened him, leaving him open to the lure of a charismatic being who believed he was better than the mortals he protected. Who refused to be subservient to men made of frail material. Who felt betrayed by God’s love for the humans.
Two hundred souls agreed with Lucifer, and one of them was Mikos. He didn’t blame Lucifer. After all, Mikos chose the pleasures of the flesh over duty. He’d not make that mistake again.
The air shifted. “So, boss, what now?” Agrigorockie, the shapeshifter Mikos had christened as Rocky blinked into view. “The hot dame didn’t stay long. You scare her away?”
Mikos frowned and rose to his
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