CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Something tickled down my chest. I couldn’t see it. There was cloth over my eyes—a blindfold. I should have panicked, but I felt oddly calm. I was lying on silken sheets that cradled my body as if they were alive. Weird.
The mysterious object brushed over my throat. I shivered, reaching up to undo the blindfold, but a soothing male voice stopped me.
“Not yet.”
I felt compelled to listen to him, so I lowered my arms and lay motionless. The air stirred over my face and then I felt it again—across my forehead, over my nose, past my lips. I realized after a moment that it was a feather. Its delicate ridges dipped past my collarbone and caressed the scarred flesh on my chest; a soothing gesture. Moments later, I felt the warm breath of someone’s mouth and then soft lips. The kiss lasted only seconds, but it felt longer. My mind was spinning from the simple pleasure of it.
The man withdrew. I reached up to undo the blindfold as he cupped my chin, stroking my skin. My eyes opened, focusing slowly. As they adjusted, I could see the silhouette of wings stretching wide from the man’s bare back. But there was something wrong. His wings weren’t silver but midnight black, and the tips were singed as if they had been held over a flame. The man’s face faded into view and it was one I knew very well: alabaster skin, long jet black hair, serpentine smile, and eyes so pale blue that they were almost white, making the thin pupils at the center seem even more reptilian.
Belial smiled that cold smile as he closed the inches between us. “Did you miss me, my pet?”
My lungs filled with air and I screamed.
I awoke with a jolt, panting, cold sweat dripping down my spine like icy fingers, reaching for my mouth as if I could still feel the demon’s lips. Shit.
I heard Michael stir in his bed, awakened by my gasping. It took him only seconds to notice I was not in good shape. He tossed back the covers and hurried to my side, his voice still gravelly from slumber.
“Jordan, what’s wrong?”
I just shook my head, still not coherent enough to talk. He reached out to touch my shoulder.
“Geez, you’re shaking.”
I swatted his hand away just as his fingertips brushed my skin. “Don’t! Don’t…touch me.”
“Alright, I won’t. Just tell me what you saw.”
I kicked the covers off my legs and walked over to the mini-fridge on the floor, wordlessly opening it. Michael spoke from behind me.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting a drink. What does it look like I’m doing?” I snapped, slamming the door shut after I found a comically small bottle of alcohol.
He stepped close to me, trying to take it out of my hands. “You don’t need it.”
“The hell I don’t,” I growled, tightening my fingers around the neck of the bottle. When he couldn’t pry it away, he grabbed my shoulders and held me still.
“Jordan, look at me.”
Finally, I stopped trying to wriggle out of his grasp and met his eyes. There wasn’t irritation or impatience in them—just concern. He spoke again, his voice quiet and measured.
“You don’t need it.”
Something painful welled up in my chest, but I ignored the sensation as best as I could. Seeing me cry once was enough. Instead, I threw up my hands.
“What do you want me to do? I can’t deal with this shit every night.”
Michael watched me before touching the side of my cheek, brushing the hair out of my eyes. “Then let me do my job.”
Gently, he took the bottle and set it on the table behind me, tugging me forward enough to wrap his arms around me. Part of me wanted to resist and argue with him more, but the other part wanted to sink into him and forget the horrible dream as quickly as possible. In the end, I just stood there—neither hurting nor helping the situation. After a few deep breaths, my heart rate slowed and the adrenaline drained out of my tired body until I was back to my normal, cantankerous self.
“I don’t think hugging me is part of your job description.”
He was tall enough that I couldn’t see his face with my own pressed to his shoulder, but I could tell he was smiling by his tone. “Last time I checked, hugging wasn’t a sin.”
A tiny smile found my lips. “Obviously you’re doing it wrong.”
Feeling admittedly better, I pushed away from him and sank back onto the bed, tugging out the loose knot I’d tied my hair up into so I could run my fingers through it. Nervous habit.
Michael sat next to me, but didn’t touch me this time. I appreciated it.
“What did you see?”
I couldn’t help but wince. “Belial.”
“It’s not the first time, is it?”
I shook my head. “Ever since the fight at the psychiatric hospital, I’ve had nightmares about him. Still, this one was much more…vivid.”
A cold shudder rolled up my spine as I thought about him kissing me, how he had manipulated me into thinking he was someone else. Bastard.
Michael let out a long breath, leaning his arms on his long legs. “I know it sounds corny but…you know I’d never let him hurt you again.”
I nodded, fingers combing through my hair until it was untangled enough to fit back in a ponytail. “I know.”
“Is there anything you want me to do?”
A thought popped into mind—something I’d forgotten about for a while—that time he and I had fallen asleep in bed together and I didn’t have nightmares that night. Somehow, his close proximity seemed to cancel my bad dreams. Why, though? Maybe I’d ask Gabriel about it.
“No,” I said out loud. “I’ll be alright.”
A tiny voice in my head whispered that I was an idiot, but I told it to go die in a fire. Our relationship had crossed so many lines at this point, and there would be no reason to keep at it. He was an archangel, for Christ’s sake, not a teddy bear.
I climbed into bed and flopped down on the pillow face up. Michael took the hint and went back to his own, hesitating before getting in.
“Good night, Jordan.”
I sighed. “Let’s hope so.”