Redemption: A Realm of Flame and Shadow Novel Read online

  “You look worse than shit,” Mephisto greeted him as his besotted entourage edged closer. “I should’ve checked in with you years ago.”

  “Call your lapdogs off.” Gabe glanced at the crowd. Humans were among his least favorite lifeform in the universe, and while he could tolerate them from a distance, this was pushing his limits.

  “You’re still an antisocial bastard.” Mephisto grinned, and a faint shimmer radiated from him across the club. The humans blinked, disoriented, before stumbling away and leaving the two of them alone at the bar.

  Gabe ignored the comment, since it was true. But although they hadn’t seen each other in years, the other archangel had already ruffled his long-destroyed feathers. “What do you mean, you should’ve checked in with me? I’m not your fucking responsibility.”

  “Ego’s still intact, though.” Mephisto snapped his fingers and the bartender placed a glass in front of him. “You’re all my fucking responsibility.”

  Right. It was only the mocking gleam in the other archangel’s eyes that reminded him Mephisto didn’t do serious. Ever.

  Except one time.

  A shudder inched along his spine, burning the livid scars that even after millennia still distorted the flesh on his back. Sometimes he could go years—okay, weeks—when the searing loss of his wings didn’t scorch his soul.

  Let it go, already. That wasn’t going to happen, but it didn’t stop him wishing for it.

  He didn’t like being in anyone’s debt. Especially Mephisto’s. But some things could never be repaid.

  The other archangel pulled a squat, black bottle from the pocket of his long trench coat and topped up both their glasses. “Tonight, you’re getting laid. Get that down you.”

  Gabe scoffed. “If you wanted to get me drunk, why are we here?” Even if the bottle contained some wild off-world spirit, he’d need more than a few shots to get wasted. And he wasn’t going to touch the getting laid comment. While Mephisto lived to fuck, Gabe couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had sex.

  There was nothing in the universe that would get him to confess that to anyone.

  To prove his point, he tipped the sparkling yellow liquid down his throat. Fire blazed, incinerating his tongue, mouth, and whole fucking GI tract. Supernovas exploded in front of his eyes and a primal drumbeat throbbed through his brain. The glass shattered in his hand, and through an orange mist, Mephisto smirked.

  “Lightweight.”

  “What the fuck?” The words were a strangulated wheeze, and it was a struggle to focus. In the past, he’d tried every alcoholic blend in creation. None of them were this potent with just one gulp.

  “A gift from the Demonic Council in gratitude for my phenomenal diplomatic skills. I don’t share this shit with just anyone.”

  Gabe coughed, and blood splatted across his fingers. While archangels and demons were deadly enemies from the dawn of their existence, there was no active war between them. Most of the time they kept out of each other’s jurisdiction. At least, in theory. “You mean you stole it.”

  “Whatever.” Mephisto took a swallow of the lethal drink, and his eyes blazed crimson. “Tonight, you’re having a woman from Earth. It’s my mission.”

  “Not going to happen.” And it had nothing to do with his unintentional, self-imposed celibacy. Even when he’d screwed around, he hadn’t touched women from Earth. The idea curdled his guts.

  “It’s time, Gabe.” Mephisto procured another glass, slammed it on the bar, and filled it to the brim. “You need to move on.”

  He laughed. Not that it was funny. Obviously, the demon drink was starting to take effect. He drained the second one, and this time managed not to crush the glass when the alcohol splintered his sanity.

  Damn, that was good. A mellow benevolence warmed his blood, and through a swirling orange haze he contemplated the club’s occupants.

  Still way too human for his liking. He’d forego mindless sex and stick to the booze tonight.

  A discordant bleep drilled through his brain, and Mephisto pulled a phone from his pocket. Interesting. Why did he need a phone? And one that originated, of all places, from Earth? There were countless more advanced civilizations who had similar devices. He had a couple himself that were useful for contacting non-telepathic races.

  Mephisto checked his message and a frown slashed his brow. “Fucking unbelievable.” There was no hint of his usual mockery. “It worked.”

  It wasn’t like Mephisto to be enigmatic. Genuinely intrigued now, Gabe placed the glass on the bar and attempted to banish the swirling fog that was trying to penetrate his eyes.

  “You need some help?” Fuck, had he said that out loud? First, Mephisto never needed help. Second, Gabe would never offer it. It was the way things were between archangels. Assistance was only ever given in the direst of circumstances, and it was never spoken of.

  His reluctant admiration for the inventor of the demon drink increased another notch. It was mind-rot at its finest.

  Mephisto shoved the phone back in his pocket. There was a familiar, maniacal gleam in his eyes. “No. But you, my friend, do.”

  As Mephisto teleported from the club, a couple of women draped themselves over Gabe. He froze, glaring at the spot where Mephisto had been just a second before. Since his glamour was enough to render him all but invisible to humans, it was obvious the other archangel had bedazzled the women who were now stroking his chest and gazing at him in adoration.

  “I haven’t seen you here before,” one of the women said in a breathy voice as her friend sighed and rubbed her head against his biceps. “But you look soooo familiar. Are you an actor?”

  “Let’s go back to my place,” whispered the other one. “It’s not far.”

  I’m going to fucking kill him.

  “Not tonight.”

  His feral growl had no effect. They continued to gyrate against him and drop reverential kisses over his shoulders.

  The demon drink might have lowered some of his inhibitions, but it sure hadn’t corrupted his libido. The women could be marble statues as far as his body was concerned.

  Was it because they were from Earth? Or has my sex drive died?

  Shit, that hadn’t occurred to him before. Mephisto was right about one thing. He did need to get laid. But not here. And never with humans.

  He peeled their arms from him, gritting his teeth against the distaste that roiled through his chest at the touch of their naked skin. Some things never changed. Not that he wanted them to. Armageddon could annihilate the entire planet before he found a human from Earth appealing.

  He needed to leave. Right now. It would be easy enough to crash a party on a half-civilized planet and find a willing female. Or three. Why the hell not? It had been eons since he’d enjoyed an orgy. Just because the thought wasn’t getting him hard didn’t mean it was a bad idea.

  Twenty-four hours of hedonistic pleasure, and then he’d focus on his next mission.

  From nowhere, a blast of icy terror ripped through his brain, freezing his blood and sending eerie prickles of inexplicable menace along his spine. Paralyzed, he didn’t even care when the two women fell onto him again, like vampiric succubi.

  Danger.

  Raw dread scraped through his synapses. A primal fear dredged from the depraved soul of creation. Alien, skeletal fingers clawed over his heart as an ancient horror seeped from his deepest memories.

  This isn’t real. It had been millennia since those nightmares had haunted him. I’m not going back.

  Blackness tumbled around him, and the world winked out of existence.

  * * *

  Aurora

  Can’t breathe.

  Everything hurt, and vertigo spun through Aurora’s mind.

  What’s wrong with my chest?

  The spinning slowed, and with a jolt, reality slammed into her.

  A heavy weight pinned her to the ground.

  What the hell?

  Panic flared, a molten wave that licked through her blo
od and liquified her nerves. She was flat on her back, her arms by her sides, and her fingers splayed against the ground. Grass?

  Open your eyes.

  She couldn’t just lie here. For a start, she didn’t even know where here was. Suppose she’d succeeded in her mission?

  Suppose she hadn’t?

  I’m afraid of what I might see.

  Was it just her imagination that the weight crushing the life out of her was shaped like a hard, muscular, body? An unmoving body. A bolt of terror scorched through her as fireworks sparked inside her brain, like she’d short-circuited her memory.

  God, I hope not.

  And having a one-sided conversation with herself wasn’t going to help get her out of whatever this was. The most likely explanation for her predicament was she’d somehow given herself an electrically charged shock from the astral planes.

  Was that even possible?

  It was better than the alternative.

  She screwed up her cowering courage and tentatively forced open her eyes.

  A muscled shoulder, encased in a dark blue shirt, greeted her.

  Shock slammed through her, shredding the lingering fog that clouded her brain. It wasn’t a figment of her imagination. There’s an unconscious man on top of me. His face was buried in the curve of her shoulder and neck, and tangled dark blond hair teased her cheek.

  Her fingers dug into the grass and adrenaline flooded her. Except she couldn’t fight or flee because there was a strange man sprawled across her.

  He hadn’t attacked her. He wasn’t trying to assault her. Calm down and think.

  Maybe they’d collided when she had crossed from one dimension into another?

  That was the danger of undertaking a cutting-edge experiment like this. There were so many unknown variables involved.

  She hitched in a shallow breath, but it didn’t help much. At least he wasn’t dead. His breathing was warm against her throat, and his heartbeat was strong.

  She needed to escape before she suffocated.

  Gingerly, she tried to push him off her. It was like trying to move a mountain.

  Concentrate. Her lack of oxygen was affecting her sense of reality. Maybe she should say something?

  “Hello?” Her voice was hoarse. And seriously, was hello the best she could do? But what else could you say to a comatose stranger who was in danger of asphyxiating you without even knowing it?

  He didn’t move, but something stirred. Her face burned as the unmistakable length of his cock thickened against her jeans-covered thigh, and her fingers froze in his hair. Why am I twisting his gorgeous hair around my fingers?

  She had no idea. But she couldn’t pull free.

  His weight shifted, a slow realignment of heavy limbs, as though he was becoming aware of his surroundings. With languid grace, he raised his head, and, for one eternal moment, an overwhelming sensation of déjà vu quivered through her. His perfectly sculpted face, enhanced by an irresistibly sexy stubble, seemed as familiar as her own reflection.

  That was crazy. She’d never seen him before in her life. And he wasn’t the type of guy anyone could forget in a hurry. Stop staring at him.

  She might as well tell her heart to stop beating. Because his eyes were a swirling kaleidoscope of blues, greens, and silvers. Am I hallucinating? But she wasn’t. They were captivatingly beautiful, unique. And yet threaded through her awe was a faint echo of haunting recognition.

  “Hello?” he repeated. His voice was low, sexy, and sent a needy thrum vibrating through her blood. She licked her lips, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. Help. “Were you at the club?”

  What club? Why wasn’t he freaking out? There had clearly been a cosmological fuck-up. It was the only thing that made any sense.

  That doesn’t make any sense at all.

  “No.” It came out as an undignified croak. He braced his weight on his forearm, and she sucked in a jagged breath as she caught sight of the familiar trees she’d known all her life. My experiment failed. Right now, that was the least of her concerns. “You just suddenly appeared from nowhere.”

  How dumb did that sound? But it was true. She was on the outskirts of the village where she’d grown up, and the sun was still low in the sky. If she’d been knocked out, it hadn’t been for long.

  Still didn’t explain anything about the arrival of this breathtaking guy. Or why he was behaving as though he did this kind of thing on a regular basis.

  A slow frown creased his brow, and she realized her fingers were still entwined in his hair. What were the chances he hadn’t noticed? With a mortifying lack of coordination, she freed them, and then didn’t know where to put her hand.

  She needed to regain control. Except her initial panic had faded, and although she was in the most vulnerable position she’d ever been in her life, she didn’t feel threatened.

  If that wasn’t a sign of concussion, she didn’t know what was.

  “Nowhere,” he repeated, and a half-smile tilted his lips. Do not stare at his lips. “I sure as hell owe Meph one for that demon drink.”

  Wait. He’d been in a bar? How could a guy who’d been drinking in a club somewhere have suddenly materialized on the coast of Cornwall? At least if he had also been meditating on the astral planes there would be some kind of connection between them.

  His smile was mesmeric. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair again, pull him closer, kiss his delectable mouth.

  Heat burned through her, and again she dug her fingers into the grass, in case they did something random like stroke the stubble on his magnificent jaw. I can’t believe I’m thinking this. What was the matter with her?

  He might be the most gorgeous man she’d ever met, but she had far more important things on her mind than caving in to her deprived hormones.

  “Could you”—kiss me—“get off me?” Before she did something totally embarrassing, such as wrap her arms around his spectacular shoulders.

  I’ve definitely suffered a concussion.

  His smile was the epitome of sex and sin and everything in between. She wanted to bask in his glorious splendor and obey his every sensual command.

  Get. A. Grip. Was he hypnotizing her?

  “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  His teasing question whispered across her cheek, a tantalizing promise of unimaginable decadence. How easy it would be to say no. Why was she trying to fight the inevitable?

  There’s nothing inevitable about this.

  “Yes.” She ignored the regret that fluttered deep in her chest. There was a time, and there was a place, and this was neither.

  Shock flashed across his face, as though her response had been completely unexpected. She gritted her teeth before her traitorous tongue overruled her good sense and tried not to melt beneath his irresistible grin.

  “Your call.” He rolled off her but didn’t sit up. Instead, he stretched out next to her, his leg touching hers as he gazed at her with those fantastical eyes. It was glaringly obvious he expected her to protest at his withdrawal. And for an eternal, surreal moment, she almost did.

  Not going to happen. Even though I want to.

  * * *

  Mephisto

  Mephisto had done many things in his long life, but hiding in an oak tree and concealing his presence from another archangel was a novelty. And not one he wanted to repeat anytime soon.

  What in the name of the goddess was Gabe doing here? He hadn’t arrived voluntarily. He’d literally fallen from the sky. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he never would’ve believed it. Only the ancient gods and goddesses wielded the power to transport an archangel against their will, and those Immortals had abandoned this sector of the universe millennia ago.

  Luckily, Gabe had been unconscious when he’d landed, which gave Mephisto time to throw up a dozen glamours. No way did he want to explain why he was keeping this annoying little human under surveillance.

  He’d first come across her a couple of years ago, when he’d attende
d a university lecture on multiverse theory. Although humans still had a long way to go when it came to understanding quantum mechanics, he ensured he kept up with their advances, pitiful as they were.

  Especially when they started theorizing on the possibility of testing for the existence of those parallel universes.

  The lecture itself hadn’t given him any concern that humans were closer to breaching dimensions than they had been a thousand years ago. But the questions from one particular student had fascinated him.

  She queried the use of psychic abilities as the catalyst.

  Her views had been brushed aside, but since humans were notoriously unreceptive when it came to the untapped power of their minds, he’d expected that. And while he had no personal experience of crossing into a parallel world, it was possible.

  And Aurora Robinson’s theory intrigued him.

  As a precaution he’d tapped her phone so he could monitor her psychic fluctuations. Because if she did somehow come close to succeeding, he planned on shutting down her psychic link and wiping her memory of everything connected to her insane experiment.

  Better that than the alternative. Although he didn’t often interfere when humans did stupid shit, he made an exception when the outcome involved falling under the jurisdiction of an alien race known as the Guardians.

  They had patrolled the dimensional boundaries for millennia. The Dark Matter of the universe, where they lived in ethnocentric isolation, was rumored to hold ancient secrets. Immortals surmised that, when dimensions were breached, it triggered a celestial alarm for the Guardians.

  Ten minutes ago, she’d triggered his alarm. He’d had milliseconds before she opened a rift and was beyond his help. But when he’d arrived, for a reason he couldn’t fathom, she’d ascended into the astral planes to do it.

  Like he said, annoying human. But before he had the chance to do a grand rescue that she would never remember, a preternatural ripple shuddered through reality.

  Fuck. He was too late. There was no saving her from her fate now. And he had no intention of staying to watch the inevitable fallout.