Cassiel, p.1
Cassiel, page 1
CASSIEL
ROGUE ANGELS
BOOK TWO
LILITH DARVILLE
CONTENTS
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Black Rose and the Three Princes
1. Cassiel
2. Aleah
3. Cassiel
4. Atroyel
5. Cassiel
6. Cassiel
7. Cassiel
8. Cassiel
9. Aleah
10. Tristan
11. Tristan
12. Aleah
Black Rose and the Three Princes
13. Aleah
14. Tristan
15. Aleah
16. Atroyel
17. Aleah
18. Tristan
19. Aleah
20. Atroyel
21. Tristan
22. Aleah
Black Rose and the Three Princes
23. Cassiel
24. Tristan
25. Atroyel
26. Aleah
27. Cassiel
28. Tristan
29. Aleah
30. Cassiel
31. Tristan
32. Aleah
33. Tristan
Next up for Aleah and her angels…
Also by Lilith Darville
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BLACK ROSE AND THE THREE PRINCES
THE FAIRY TALE CONTINUES . . .
Believing Black Rose lost a decade ago, Lord Syrael asked the mirror once again: “Magic mirror on the wall, who is the most powerful sex angel lord of all?” As Black Rose had come of age, Syrael started to lose his power. The mirror told Syrael that Black Rose could kill him, but if he gained her power, Syrael would be the most powerful demon in the land. The mirror also showed her hiding in the forest with the three sex angel princes.
The archangel was furious that he’d been tricked and decided to retrieve Black Rose himself, planning to steal her power and kill her. First, he appeared at the cabin disguised as a peddler and offered Black Rose a silky black bustier as a present. He laced the bustier so tightly, Black Rose collapsed from lack of oxygen. The princes returned just in time to loosen the laces and revive her. Next, the demon lord dressed as a perfume salesman with a fragrance specifically designed for her and convinced Black Rose to try a squirt laced with a powerful poison. Once again, the princes discovered Black Rose before the poison took full effect and revived her by washing the scent from her body.
Finally, the archangel disguised himself as a farmer and offered Black Rose a drugged apple. Black Rose hesitated before accepting it, so Syrael cut the apple in half, keeping the harmless half for himself. After watching Syrael eat without consequence, Black Rose took a large bite and immediately fell into a state of suspended animation, causing the archangel to think he had triumphed. This time, the princes were unable to find an antidote to the magical elixir.
1
CASSIEL
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Aleah’s rapid heart rate warns me she has her head in a toilet long before I reach her. The power to read the heartbeats of others comes in handy at times. If I didn’t love my brothers, I’d kill them for putting our team in this position.
We’re the three royal princes of Nirvana, called to serve the gods as sex angel lords. It’s not a job, it’s a vocation, although you’d never know it the way my brothers are behaving. Both are more than capable of shielding themselves from the negative effects of physical illness. My gut tells me Troy’s not as affected by Aleah’s sickness as he pretends to be unless you count being love sick. Whatever the two of them hope will happen by leaving me alone with Aleah simply won’t happen. I know a problem when I see one.
I detour through the kitchen where Tristan put Aleah’s medications. Fuck. Whose bright idea was it to put me in a caregiver role? Which pills should I give her? I take a chance and grab the anti-nausea tablets, pain meds, and a glass of water. By the time I reach the bedroom, Aleah’s curled into a ball on the bed, eyes squeezed tight, and her small form takes me back to when she was a young girl in the forest. The corresponding tug on my heartstrings proves I’m not the cold-hearted bastard my brothers accuse me of being or that I portray.
“I brought your pills.” I read off the names on the bottles for good measure.
I barely catch her muffled response. “One of each, please.”
I shake a pill from each bottle into my palm then place them in the small brown hand that lies open on the bed. She dry swallows the pills refusing the water I offer. A strangled sound follows that I take to be thanks. I close the built-in blinds and light a candle to read by. Again, I curse the gods for being less than forthcoming about the angelic mating bond.
I settle on the bed beside Aleah without touching her, open the Double Diary to the bookmarked page and start reading aloud. I’m expecting the magic woven into the words to affect Aleah. What I’m not anticipating is their impact on me. The more I read in their diary, the more insight I have about what drew Atroyel to Aleah. The sexual and emotional passion they have for each other survived life’s many hurdles and grew to a blazing fire. Their unconditional love for each other is evident even to a realist like me. Their outpouring of feeling flows over me like fine wine opening my palate to take in hidden undertones. It appears that Aleah took years to break through Atroyel’s moody exterior, yet I have no sense of her berating or criticizing him. She seems to accept him for what he is.
Aleah seems to have shown Atroyel a way to express his feelings, and instead of weakening him, she’s given him a way to face the world. As I read on, I can’t remain blind to the gift Aleah’s given Troy. Her love is pure and without artifice. The magic Atroyel wove into the words would reveal any hidden agendas. Her entries clearly show a depth of love for my brother that pierces my cynical core.
“Life with you hasn’t always been easy, but it’s always been real.”
“I don’t want you to feel regret. Not ever!”
“I’ll fight for you until I’m forced to let go!”
“I fought to get you back.”
As I read on, I’m left with so many questions: her feelings about motherhood, what had threatened their relationship, how had she fought to get Troy back? Their diary reveals a level of emotional exposure I rarely see between couples. They’d both risked fallout from leaving themselves so vulnerable to one another.
Slowly, Aleah’s body uncurls as the words from the diary fall from my lips. While I read the words, she snuggles against me and rests her hand on my bare forearm. Electricity sizzles through me the instant her skin touches mine. My heart skips for a split second before I remember her rejection and remind myself of how she’s disrupting our work. That puts things back in perspective, and I put the shock down to the quick movement of electrons in the air, nothing more.
Despite my best intentions to stay clear of her, my curiosity about this woman grows the more I read. I’m usually one for the big picture, but suddenly I want the details about what makes Aleah tick. I stop reading aloud for a moment and focus in on the entry dated September 1. Troy finds her to be distant, and who the fuck is Nick that he refers to? I push back the finger of jealousy that flickers as I read his name.
“I’m a mess, yet I’m strong and capable.” I can’t help but smile at her insight about herself. That hits the proverbial nail on the head when describing this fascinating woman. I quickly turn the pages searching for her hidden agenda. I’d learned through a millennium as a sex angel that most people have one, and I’ve seen the good, the bad, and the ugly. I have no doubt that if I look long and hard enough, I’ll find hers, and the push-pull between her and Troy fascinates me.
When she writes about experiencing palpitations and tingles, my mind goes on high alert. This is the first indication of her powers breaking through the binding spell suppressing her magic. I read on, fighting harder and harder to convince myself my curiosity is strictly strategical. She’s taped a sticky note from Troy over the end of one of his fantasies. For a reason I can’t even begin to fathom, it’s his sticky note that makes my heart ache.
Hi My Love!
My heart aches too, but that’s not true. My ache is a little lower. You can pleasure yourself as long as you think of me. Gotta run errands—see you later. Thinking of you! Love Me. :-)
I flip ahead several pages and notice sticky notes sprinkled throughout. As if sharing their love through the diary isn’t enough, they have to leave each other sappy notes as well. Yet something in my cold heart yearns to have someone to exchange sappy notes with.
Morning Love:
Think of me as I do you! Again—smile—it’s Friday. Soon Saturday. . .
Are you going to let me
PLAY?
To which she responds:
Am I ever! I’ve been waiting for this all week. Last night, I had a prelude. . .
“I guess I’m not any good at come-hither looks.” I glom onto this first sign of artifice. She presents if as a flaw, but I know better.
I close my eyes as the power of what these two share hits me. Something makes Aleah stir, and she snuggles closer against me tightening her grasp on my forearm. She sighs as if taking comfort from my heat. Blue grace rises from her skin coating mine, and I could swear there’s a slight sensation of heat in my left shoulder. Slapping the fanciful thought away, I get back to business. The sooner I figure out how we’re going to deal with the complications the mating bond brings to our lives, the better for all of us. And one thing I know for sure, Aleah will never be part of our team. I won’t allow it. I’m incredibly talented at spotting any skills and strengths beneficial to helping us attain our mission, and this woman doesn’t have them. Instead, she’s a distraction. I’d been willing to overlook her intrusion for Troy’s sake, but now she’s snatched Tristan and brings nothing but chaos.
Ali moans and moves restlessly beside me as if sensing my thoughts. The interruption brings me back to the job at hand, reading this damned diary. As I work my way through another of Atroyel’s convoluted passages, it doesn’t surprise me that he came up with the idea of writing a joint diary; after all, word bestowal is his most potent power.
What’s startling is the depth of sexuality, passion, and commitment these two have been willing to explore, how deeply they’ve exposed their soft underbellies. I doubt that I’d be willing to leave myself this vulnerable with anyone, yet I envy their deep and enduring bond. And now, the universe has given Tristan a matching gift, allowed him to share in their love. I shake off all this emotional foolishness and get back to the diary. The only love in the cards for me is the love I help create as a sex angel lord.
I need to focus on what I’m here to do and find out Aleah’s weaknesses and triggers to teach her how to protect herself against Syrael. I’m not doing this for her; I’m doing it for my brother. Once we get rid of Syrael, I can get the hell away from this Nephilim and the irrational thoughts she provokes.
I run through what I’ve learned so far, and I have a lot of work to do. I think showing her how to protect herself against Syrael’s manipulations will prove to be a more significant challenge than I imagined. Her self-esteem is far lower than her demeanor would suggest, and she has a large rejection complex and multiple hang-ups. However, these are the cards I’m dealt, so I’ll play my best hand. I have to at least look like I’m trying with her. I won’t give Atroyel any ammunition to put in that acerbic tongue. So far, the only area I have to work with is role play. Whenever I read about their fantasies and role-plays, more grace rises from Aleah. One thing is patently clear, my brother’s fear of hurting his beloved has kept him from seeing what Aleah needs. Fuck off, Cassiel. I berate myself for all of this foolish talk. What goes on between those two is none of my business.
Aleah’s next line, “I need your love! It makes me whole,” does nothing to soften my hardened heart. I shouldn’t begrudge my brothers a love like this . . . But I do.
But it’s Atroyel’s declaration that brings me to my knees.
My Love
She was a lover whose mind never strayed far from the scene.
All the power pieces concealed in me responded fivefold.
Our open boldness of speaking out and then usually acting it out was astonishing.
It got so that the mere touching of one another while walking past each other could set off a conflagration.
As apprehension faded to trust, a cool sweetness settled over us.
Time, thank God, stood still.
I slam the book shut, unable to go on.
2
ALEAH
One minute, I’m having the best wet dream of my life and the next, I’m awake, instantly aware I’m snuggled up against someone who isn’t Troy or Tristan. Cass. Shit! As consciousness floods back, I bolt upright and scootch over on the bed while I meet Cass’s golden gaze.
“Sorry.” I throw the word out to cover any embarrassment I’ve caused Cass by vomiting or something equally mortifying in front of this man who so obviously dislikes me.
“For?” Cass raises an eyebrow in the same way his brothers do.
I look around for my glasses. Anything to avoid Cass’s penetrating stare. “I’m sorry if I did anything to make you uncomfortable. Sometimes the onset of a migraine is pretty extreme.” That’s as good a euphemism as any to cover the purge that precedes most of my migraines.
“No problem.” Cass holds out my glasses, giving me a looking-for-these questioning gaze. At least he’s semi-civil for a change. Grateful, I take my shield and slide it into place. I definitely need it to deal with the negative vibes rolling from him. I give him a small smile of thanks because that’s the polite thing to do. Sprint away like a startled fawn would only add fuel to the fire of this already rocky relationship. I don’t know what it is about Troy and his family members, these and the human ones, but, besides Tristan, they tolerate me because they have to. But I’m not family, not really. Troy and I had talked about my hunger to be part of a family. Our discussions typically ended the same way.
“Beauty, if you ever needed help, they’d be there for you.”
He just didn’t understand that being family meant more than being helpful. It involved a connection and love I’ve only had with Troy.
And now, Tristan. My soul-mate connection lets me know my guys aren’t near, but they’re still close enough for me to detect. Both emit calm contentment, and I have no doubt Troy is in one of his all-time favorite positions—stretched out on an outdoor lounger taking in the scenery. My radar tells me Tristan is with him, no doubt in a similar supine position. Not that I have a fucking clue whether Tristan is a sun worshiper like Troy. My heart does a wee cha-cha as I think about how much I have to learn about this new love of mine. I put that happy thought in my treasure chest to examine later.
Right now, I have Cass to deal with. I have to extricate myself from him without deepening the rift yawning between us. Troy made it clear with his human family that if they forced him to choose, I’d be his first and only choice. I’ve no doubt that if the subject came up, he’d do the same with Cass. Resolute, I lean into the discomfort of meeting the penetrating gaze that hasn’t wavered. My intuition tells me something has changed while I slept, but I can’t put my finger on what.
“Thank you so much for staying with me. I appreciate it. I hope I wasn’t too much trouble.” Lame, Aleah.
I could swear I see amusement flicker in those weird golden eyes of his. “That depends on your definition of trouble.”
I narrow my eyes as I try to read him, but I have no sense of whether he’s joking or serious. I’m used to Troy saying things like this to get a reaction from me because he thinks I’m so cute when I’m all riled up. But that was his rather unique sense of humor. Cass seems to be missing the humor gene.
“Let’s define it as anything that makes you uncomfortable; after all, you’ve been very clear what you think about the chaos I’ve brought down on you.” The words are out of my mouth before I can snatch them back. I open my mouth to apologize for being bitchy.
“No need to apologize. I prefer people say what they mean, and what you say is true.” Cass’s mouth quirks into a rare smile. In one smooth move, he’s off the bed and stretching that long, gorgeous body. “It’s me who should apologize. What I said was uncalled for.” Another twitch at the corners of his mouth. “You don’t bring any more chaos than Atroyel and Tristan have at times.” Cass pours a couple of glasses of something from a pitcher on the table and hands me a glass.
I take a sip of the same delicious coconut water concoction I’d had last night. The need to replenish fluids overcomes me, and I down the drink before handing it back to Cass. “Thanks, I needed that.” I let those words hang in the air, assuming he’ll think the thanks are for the drink when in fact, I’m acknowledging his extending a twig from his olive branch.
