She trudged outside and sat in a rocking chair on the front porch. How had she come to this in just a few days?
A while later, Brynley came out with a plate of food and a glass of water. She set them on the small wooden table next to Marielle. You must be hungry. And you need to keep your strength up.
Thank you. She ate a little, but her appetite worsened as she watched the sun descend in the sky. Could she do it? Could she chase Connor away?
As the sun hovered over the horizon, the temperature dropped. She shivered and took her dishes into the cabin.
Brynley had turned on the lights. Almost time. She picked up the shotgun. Im ready for him.
Marielle dropped her plate with a clatter into the kitchen sink. How angry do you think hes going to get?
A thumping noise came from the closet, and Marielle jumped. He was awake. He would notice right away that his shoes and socks had been taken off.
What the bloody hell?
Remember your lines, Brynley whispered as she headed out the front door, carrying the shotgun. Ill be out here if you need me.
The closet door crashed open. Connor stood barefoot in the opening, his eyes a brilliant, gleaming blue, his red hair wild and loose about his shoulders.
Marielle gulped.
His gaze zeroed in on her. Woman, he growled.
She stepped back. Your eyes are glowing blue.
Rage. His fangs sprang out.
With a gasp, she stepped back again.
He wrenched the refrigerator door open, grabbed a bottle of blood, then stuffed it into the microwave. He pressed the buttons, then stopped to glare at his hot pink fingernails. His hand curled into a fist.
His head turned toward her. You. His eyes burned into her. He grabbed the bottle from the microwave, still cold, and guzzled some down.
He slammed the bottle down on the kitchen counter, then advanced toward her. His fangs were still out and stained red with blood. Why did ye do it?
She lifted her chin. I felt like it. Her voice trembled. And if you dont like it, you can . . .
He arched a brow as he continued to move toward her. I can what?
Tears stung her eyes. You can leave and never come back.
Chapter Sixteen
Leave? Connor halted his advance on Marielle. His vision turned a more intense blue as his rage surged to a dangerous level.
What were those crazy women doing to his angel? The first night theyd taught her about blow jobs, and now they had obviously embroiled her in some sort of stupid drama that was supposed to make him leave.
Leave? Over his dead body.
His hands curled into fists. What about yer training? Do ye intend to go into battle unable to defend yerself?
She stiffened her spine in a gesture of strength, but the tears in her eyes told another story. I can train myself.
Can ye teleport yerself?
Ian will take me. And he and Phil can protect me.
Yere planning to replace me? She might as well have stabbed him in the chest. Am I suddenly untrustworthy? he bellowed.
When she flinched, he made an effort to tamp down on his rage.
He grabbed the bottle off the counter and drank the rest of the blood. It tasted awful this cold, but it helped cool his rage a little. His fangs retracted, but his vision remained tinted blue, a sure sign he was still on the verge of losing control.
He set the empty bottle down. Do ye know what infuriates me the most? Tis no the damned nail polish. Nor the fact that those women have lured you into some sort of childish plot.
When she didnt respond, he turned his head to glare at her. I gave you my word that I would help you, that I would get you back to heaven no matter what.
Her face paled.
He advanced toward her once again. And ye ask, nay, ye tell me to leave? Does my word mean nothing to you? His voice rose to a shout. Do ye expect me break my pledge?
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. I expect you to leave.
His jaw shifted. Yere forgetting something. He stepped closer. Angels make terrible liars.
Her mouth opened to protest, but before she could say a word, he clamped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her against his chest. She gasped.
Yer heart is pounding something fierce. He touched her cheek. Yer heart doesna lie.
A tear slipped down her cheek and he caught it with his thumb.
Yer tears doona lie. He dragged his hand down her throat, then farther down to cup her breast. Ye tremble at my touch. Yer body doesna lie.
He gently squeezed her breast, and she moaned. At last, some truth coming from yer lips. He kissed her lightly. Now tell me if
The front door slammed open.
She told you to leave, so go! Brynley stormed inside, leveling a shotgun.
Bloody fool! If she pulled the trigger, she might kill Marielle. Connor teleported behind Brynley, ripped the shotgun from her grasp with one hand, and shoved her against the wall with the other.
She gasped, no doubt surprised by his vampire speed and strength. She attempted to move, but he kept her pinned.
It was you, aye? Yere the one who painted my nails.
Brynley grabbed his arm and tried to shake him lose. Let me go, you undead creep!
He slid his hand up to circle her neck, then leaned closer. Doona ever mess with me while Im in my death-sleep.
Fine! Her eyes blazed with anger. And you stop pawing the angel.
He released her and stepped back. Holy Christ Almighty, was that what this was about? The women didnt want him touching Marielle? He glanced at her. She looked miserable, with red-rimmed eyes. Shed gone along with their ridiculous plan. That could only mean she wanted him to stop touching her, too.
An icy cold wave swept through him, chilling him to the bone. Agreed. He walked outside.
Pain expanded in his chest, so sudden and so sharp it stole his breath away. Bugger. Hed thought he was too much of a coldhearted bastard to ever get hurt like this. Marielle had certainly proved him wrong.
He removed the shells from the shotgun and laid the weapon on the porch next to the house. The blue tint to his vision was completely gone now. No more rage. Just pain. And sadness.
He retrieved his cell phone from his sporran and called Ian. Are ye coming to pick up Brynley?
Aye, in just a few minutes, Ian replied. Iuh, Vanda asked me to spend the night there as Marielles protector.
Nay. The job is mine. Just come and take Brynley. And . . . bring me some nail polish remover.
Ian paused. Some what?
Nail polish remover! I assume yer wife has some.
Aye. Ill be there soon.
Connor rang off and dropped the phone back in his sporran. Bugger. Ian was going to get a big laugh out of this.
Connor? Marielles voice sounded soft and hesitant behind him.
His heart squeezed in his chest. He didnt turn around, didnt want her to see the pain on his face. Go back inside.
Areare you still going to train me?
Aye. Well continue yer training and practice teleporting. We should be ready to face the Malcontents in a few more days. He gritted his teeth. Ye willna have to put up with me for much longer.
There was a long pause, and he wondered if shed gone back inside.
Thank you for the glass angel, she whispered. Ill treasure it . . . for as long as Im here.
Dammit, she made his heart ache. I guess ye canna take it with you to heaven?
No. She made a sad noise that sounded like a cross between a sob and a sniffle. Im sorry.
The door closed, leaving him alone on the porch. Im sorry, too.
For the next few hours, Marielle remained determined not to cry. Connor stayed true to his word and continued her training, but he was cold and distant, barking out orders and never making eye contact.
He set up the wooden clock in front of the cabin. When she teased him that it looked more like a henge, he didnt respond.
She worked hard for several hours and learned to knock down only one log. Her efforts were rewarded with a grumbled Good. No smiles. No pats on the shoulder. No twinkle in his eyes.
He held her stiffly when they teleported close to a hospital in Cleveland where a woman was dying in surgery. When he encouraged her to widen her scope and search out multiple deaths accompanied by horror, she led them to what turned out to be a violent shoot-out between two drug cartels along the southern border. With bullets flying around them and innocent bystanders falling in the street, hed teleported them quickly back to the cabin.
She was visibly shaken, so he set her on the couch, brought her a glass of water, and told her to rest. She tried closing her eyes, but each time she did, the violent scene replayed in her mind. The screams of the innocent echoed in her head. The human world could be so cruel.
Dear God, how she wanted to go back to heaven! She missed the peace and love that had permeated her soul, the constant stream of praise and support that had always filled her mind. She missed her friend Buniel and her beautiful white wings. What if she never heard the singing of the Heavenly Host again? What if she could never fly again, feel the wind rush against her face, and see the stars twinkling around her as she soared through the heavens?