Winged Passion, page 4
part #3 of Heaven's Heart Series
Trick might not be an archangel, or even a Great Duke, but he wasn’t weak, and had the power of a thriving guild behind him.
“So why do you dare to enter Hades’ realm, Uriel?” He rested his hands on his stomach.
Uriel glanced around, as if searching for a place to sit. When no such comfort appeared, the angel widened his stance, and put his hands behind his back, military-style. “It has come to our attention that you have enslaved one of our kind.”
So. They had finally heard about Z.
He’d had the angel in his possession for weeks—why come to him now?
The thing with angels—they could sense lies. So, he had to be careful with his phrasing. “I do have an angel blood-slave, that is correct.”
Uriel’s dark eyes flashed, illuminating the room with an arcane glow. “How dare you!”
Trick kept his face bland. “He was sold to me. And in rather poor condition, I might add. So really, the blame is on you.”
“On me?” The glow faded, probably more from surprise than anything. Uriel wasn’t the kind of being who was used to having people defy him.
“You’re the archangel. Why’d you let a baby angel get abducted and then tortured? Surely you and your brethren were powerful enough to make sure that didn’t happen.”
Uriel’s irritation was palpable, but his words were calm. “Zadkiel was a fully-fledged soldier. He was well able to take care of himself. You have much to answer for.”
Ire, pure and unholy poured through Trick. “I don’t have to answer to you. Ever. You are in my guild, in Tartarus, a realm that has nothing to do with you. I purchased Z in good faith, and you are the ones who failed to prevent demons from raiding Heaven and losing him in the first place. You failed. The archangels failed. And you blamed some poor group of angels for it. Those schmucks were nothing but scapegoats. All of Hell can see it, even if your angels can’t.”
When the other mercenary guilds had finally realized who exactly ruled the Falling Star, it had been the talk of the three circles of Hell. But business was business, and despite the gossip, or perhaps because of it, the Falling Star was still approached for work.
“They were an elite unit trained to protect Heaven’s Heart. They failed, and the Heart was stolen.” Uriel’s lips thinned.
Trick’s pulse accelerated briefly before he wrested it under control. Heaven had lost one of its most treasured artifacts?
Not my business.
“That’s unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate?”
“Look, you aren’t here to talk to me about the Heart. Unless you want to hire the guild to find it for you?” Trick quirked an eyebrow.
Uriel’s face pinched. “No.”
“Then why are you here?”
“You are going to sell Zadkiel back to us.”
“I am going to do no such thing.”
“What?”
“I am not going to sell Z to you.”
“But—you must.”
“No, I really mustn’t.”
Surprise, shock and anger warred for supremacy on Uriel’s face. Did he think he could just waltz into Trick’s office and he would just roll over and beg for orders?
Probably. Uriel is one of the more arrogant archangels.
They should have sent Aurora or Michael for this. Or even Gabriel. Uriel was too much of an ass for Trick to want to help him.
“The only offer I would accept is like for like. Do you have an angel you would be willing to trade for Z?”
Guile flashed in dark eyes. “It could be arranged.”
“You wouldn’t offer yourself?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Uriel shook his head, as if the concept of signing his soul away was beyond sense. “If we get you the angel, will you give us Zadkiel?”
A direct question. One he couldn’t lie to. “No.”
“Then what was the point of asking us about the trade?”
“I just wanted to see how sincere you were.”
“You waste my time.”
Like Trick gave a fuck about Uriel’s schedule. “If you want Z to return to Heaven, you can ask him yourself.”
“But your slave contract—”
“No longer applies to Z. Another angel traded her life for his.”
Silence. Then, “Who?”
“Seraphina. You may not understand loyalty, but she does.” And it was a trait of hers he could admire.
“Fine. I will find Z and ask him. Where is he?”
Trick laughed. “As if I would tell you. Now get out, my patience wears thin.”
“Your patience?”
Trick snapped his fingers and Uriel vanished.
The surprise on the archangel’s face as he disappeared was priceless; a memory to treasure.
Whistling, Trick stood and walked over to his door. Time to go back to the main hall. He gave the doorframe an affectionate pat on the way out.
That was the thing with wards created by Hades himself; they were powerful enough to eject even an archangel.
Chapter 8
Seraphina’s new chamber was small to the point of being tiny. Compared to her room back at the mansion, it was the size of a broom closet. Trick had clearly given it to her as a statement of her importance to the guild—it signified her lack of it.
But this room, with its single bed, desk and bathroom, was bigger than the space she had called her own in Heaven. Luxury was something she had only come to appreciate after her fall.
I did without before, I can easily do so again.
Although, she would miss the small haven she had built for herself at Raze’s. The bare walls and cold stone floor of this room lacked the warmth and vibrancy of her red-gold chambers. You’re in Hell, what did you expect?
She dumped her suitcases on the skinny bed—lucky I don’t have wings anymore; I wouldn’t fit on it otherwise—and then turned to Trick, who was leaning against the door jamb, arms folded loosely over his chest.
“Does this meet with your approval?” he drawled, brown eyes glinting with amusement.
“It’s fine.” She didn’t plan on being here for decades, anyway. The sooner she worked off her debt, the better.
“I’m sure it’s not what you’re accustomed to.”
Something shimmered in her peripheral vision and she moved to examine it.
Glitter?
A small pile of it had gathered in the corner of the room and she dabbed a finger into it. Holding it up to the light, she frowned. Then she looked over at the other corners—more heaps.
“An anti-listening spell.” Trick’s deep voice rumbled in her ear.
Startled, she whipped her head toward him. He was barely a foot away.
He moves silently for someone his size.
Don’t be stupid. He runs a guild of assassins. He would have to have learned a trick or two about staying undetected.
There it was again—trick.
Ugh.
“Looks like someone didn’t want you listening in to their conversation.” She dusted her finger off, but all that seemed to do was rub the glitter over her other fingers and hand.
Trick shook his head, a mocking smile on his lips. “Don’t bother. It’s permanent.”
Quick as a snake, she darted her hand out and wiped the glitter over his face.
There. Now he sparkled like a vampire from the Twilight series.
“What the fuck—”
“You’re welcome!” She gave him a sunny smile.
He glowered, brown eyes fierce in a face marked by shimmering flecks of gold. It actually made him more handsome. Her smile died.
Trick rubbed a sleeve over his face, then cursed when it came away covered in sparkles. “I am going to give you the worst mission I can think of.”
“I did you a favor. It suits you.”
He held his arm away from his body, as if it were diseased. “I never took you for a smartass.”
“Your mistake.” She’d never been quite so verbally combative before. She’d certainly never been that way with Paschar. She’d often had the urge to be cheeky with him, but had doubted his ability to understand the humor. He had always been so serious, so intense. Fun with him hadn’t really been a thing.
It floored her to realize that.
And to realize she found Trick...amusing.
He was a jerk, sure. Self-centered. Arrogant. And morally reprehensible. He owned people’s souls. But despite his irritation at having glitter rubbed over him, he hadn’t told her off, he hadn’t thrown a mantrum. He’d just...dealt with it. Paschar would have been furious with her and no doubt lectured her on her maturity and the dignity of her position in Heaven.
Why the comparison? You aren’t in a relationship with Trick.
No, and she had no intention of changing that.
Trick stared at her, and she forced herself to hold her place. She would not be intimidated by him. Her skin warmed as the room built with electricity, with...tension.
Suddenly, the air burst with an audible pop, and a new figure appeared next to her desk, behind Trick. Relief almost made her sag.
It hadn’t been sexual tension that she’d been reacting to, it had been an incoming teleporter.
Seraphina reached for a dagger before she remembered they were in all her suitcase.
You need to have a weapon on you at all times.
Power radiated from the stranger in a blast, sizzling along her skin. He was enormous, his body boasting muscle upon muscle, and his yellow eyes were like jewel chips. His jet-black hair was French-braided down the middle, and shaved on either side, making him look like a badass. But the kicker? He was more handsome than almost any man she’d ever seen—except maybe Trick. Oh, the new guy had all classic lines and beauty, but it was topped with a ragged kind of charm. Although, his jeans and T-shirt combination seemed to somehow make him more...approachable.
Who is he?
Trick spun around, then raised an eyebrow at the intruder. “Hades, how good of you to drop in.”
Hades?
This was the Hell-lord who ruled Tartarus?
He wasn’t what she’d expected.
But then, she wasn’t sure what she had thought he’d look like. A deposed god, formerly a chthonic deity; she figured he’d be pallid, a smidgen on the thin side.
She hadn’t thought he’d look like sex-on-a-stick.
“I like to keep my finger on the pulse, you know?” The god’s voice was deep and gravelly, and horribly provocative. Quite different to Trick’s bedroom-smooth tones.
You really have fallen, to find a former god attractive on any level.
At the same time, she had a pulse. Anyone with eyes in their head would find Hades handsome.
“Is that intended to be ironic?” Trick asked.
“I always intend to be ironic.” Hades’ expression was deadpan, so Seraphina wasn’t sure if the sarcasm was deliberate or not.
“Isn’t it Asha’s job to do these drop-ins?”
“She’s on holiday.”
“Holiday?”
“Yeah. You know, off exploring the great outdoors, seeking revenge on enemies, sunbathing, that kind of shit.”
Trick put his hands in his pockets. “Got it.”
“Who’s Asha?” Seraphina asked.
“My PA,” Hades said, then focused on Trick. “Okay. I have three questions. One: why do you have a fallen angel with you?”
Trick flicked her a glance. “She’s my newest blood slave.”
“Huh.” Hades’ lemon-yellow eyes surveyed her from head to toe. “At least she’s pretty.”
What the Hell?
“Two,” the god held up another finger, “why the fuck was an archangel here?”
Shock turned her limbs to lead. An archangel had been here?
For me?
No. That was foolish. If they’d wanted to come for her, they could have done so at any time before now. But what had they wanted from Trick?
“Uriel paid me a little visit,” Trick replied.
“No doubt because you’ve got a fucking angel on the payroll now.”
“No doubt.”
Hades glowered. “I don’t like angels—no offense, sweetcakes,” he nodded at her, “—and Uriel fucking broke protocol by entering my realm without talking to me first. They stop by again, you call me. Got it?”
Sweetcakes?
“Got it.” Trick gave a short nod.
Hades’ expression was of tightly controlled rage. He looked like he wanted to pace, but took one step before he realized he had nowhere to go. “Why the Hell are you in this room, anyway?”
“Is that your third question?” Trick asked.
Hades’ eyebrows lowered into a frown. “No, it’s a goddamn bonus.”
“I was showing Seraphina her new room. Welcoming her to the guild family, et cetera, et cetera.”
“Right.” Hades’ gaze flicked to her. “Word of advice, angel, if you want to get back into Heaven, don’t do the horizontal tango with him, you get my meaning?”
“I get it. And why would I?” She tossed her hair over her shoulder.
Trick placed a hand over his heart and winced. Theatrical fool... But she had to fight to keep the smile from her face.
“There’s a bed here, and your slave brand is on your lips, so...”
“Can everyone see that?”
Trick shrugged. “Those who can see magic, sure.”
She pointed a finger at him. “You little—”
“Anyway.” Hades clapped his hands. “I still have to ask my third question.”
“Fire away,” Trick said.
“Okay. Last question—and the most important one.” Hades paused for effect. Seraphina leaned forward in anticipation despite herself.
“Why the fuck is there glitter all over your face?”
Chapter 9
Great.
Even Hades was laughing at him now.
Trick fought the urge to rub his nose, knowing it would only spread the irritating sparkles everywhere. Who would have thought that Seraphina had a sense of humor?
Not me.
She’d struck him as the serious type from the moment he’d seen her, when she’d first started making public appearances for the Falling Star guild. Serious, sensuous and sinister. The kind of package he normally went for, provided it was demonic in origin. He didn’t do angels.
But now he’d kissed her?
He just wanted more.
Which was insane.
“I may have wiped glitter on him,” Seraphina admitted, holding up shimmering hands.
Hades shook his head. “The leader of an assassination guild who looks like he’s got more in common with Edward Cullen than Vlad the Impaler. They just don’t make them like they used to.”
“Edward who?” Trick asked.
“Gods, read a book.” Hades rolled his eyes.
Seems like I need to expand my information quest. Trick valued intel like some people valued breathing.
“Now, let’s go somewhere more comfortable,” Hades said. “This room makes me feel enormous.” He clapped his hands, and a breath later, they were in a large stone chamber, with a high gothic-style ceiling, stone floor and walls, and an expanse that was punctuated by gargoyles.
Trick swallowed.
He’d heard of this cavernous space before. It was the Hall of Statues—and despite its lack of imaginative naming, the place was seriously fucked-up.
A warm cloth appeared in Trick’s palms, and he stared at it blankly.
Hades waved a hand. “Wash your face.”
Right. He scrubbed hard at his cheeks and, lo and behold, the cloth came away glittering with tiny flecks of gold. “Does this actually get it off?”
“Sure does.”
“You need to sell them. You’d make a fucking fortune.” The material disappeared from Trick’s hands before he could pocket it. “I’ll buy shares.”
“Uh, can I have one, too?” Seraphina asked.
Hades frowned at her. “I’d say no, but I don’t want glitter all over my shit.”
Soon after, the fallen angel was industriously cleaning her hands. Her cloth did a disappearing act, too.
“Now, I have a mission for you both.”
“For us both?” Trick asked. Hades didn’t normally bother to get involved in the guild’s business. When he wanted someone eliminated, he sent an email or a text message like anyone else. The fact they’d been brought here meant it was personal.
This is not good.
Gods—even deposed ones—had a way of ruining people’s lives.
Trick didn’t need his ruined again.
“Yes. Only a true fallen angel can take care of this for me.” Hades’ gaze bored into Trick before focusing on Seraphina with interest. “And look what we have here.”
“An angel?” Seraphina bit her lip. The magical mark blazed at the contact.
I really shouldn’t have done that.
Whatever. Trick could change the mark’s location, although that would mean touching Seraphina again, and he wasn’t sure that was a good idea.
He might not want to stop, next time.
There will be no ‘next time’.
“A true fallen angel. And I just happen to have one right here.” Hades smiled, but his eyes remained cold and calculating.
“What do you need a fallen angel for?”
“I need one to retrieve an artifact for me.” The god clasped his hands behind his back.
“Retrieve or steal?” Trick asked, not that either option really bothered him. When it came to ancient objects, they had usually been stolen by their current owners anyway.
“Either,” Hades answered.
Seraphina snorted. “You’re a god, can’t you do it?”
Trick winced. He was going to have to have a talk to her about the importance of not pissing off Hades. She might have been an angel, but the man before them had always been a god. They had never been—and never would be, unless she ascended to archangel—on the same playing field when it came to power.
