Downs, Jana - Angel Bound [His Guardian Angels 1] (Siren Publishing LoveXtreme Forever ManLove - Serialized) (2 page)

“No, Mom. No. James is an arrogant dick.”

“Watch your mouth, Madigan Raphael Parker!”

“Not to mention,” he continued, “he’s totally not my type.”

“No one is ever your type, Madi! You’re twenty-eight years old and have never been in a serious relationship,” she wailed. He mentally prepared himself for mild hysterics. His mother was a drama queen when it came to getting her way.

“Come on, Mom, be reasonable,” he soothed, coming around the counter and giving her a big hug. He knew he was covered in flour and frosting, but she’d have to deal. “I have a few tight friends and

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family. That’s all a guy could ever ask for.” She sniffled. “However,  if it makes you happy, I’ll go out on one date with James. Just wait  until after my birthday, all right? I don’t want my friends pressured  into bringing their boyfriends to the party. I want it to be just friends  and family.”

She gave him a brilliant smile. “Okay, Madi. That’s fine.” She  clapped her hands together. “That is so exciting. I’m going to go call  Tracy and tell her to arrange for you two to go out next weekend.  He’s a lawyer, you know.”

He rolled her eyes again. “Yes, Mom. I know he’s a lawyer.” Who  was also notorious in the club scene for being a hit-it-and-quit-it kind  of guy, but his mother didn’t need to know that. The man was a thirtyfour-year-old shark. Madigan wasn’t going to let him within ten feet  of him if he could help it. Date or not, there was no way that Madigan  was giving him a chance in hell.

“Oh, I’m so happy!” She squealed like a teenager before pushing  the swinging door that led into the main part of the bakery and out of  the kitchen. Madigan gritted his teeth and went back to kneading his  fondant. At least one of them was pleased.

* * * *

It was Thursday night, and all of Madigan’s family and friends were in attendance. He was pleased that everyone could make it. It was a small and intimate affair, and that was just how he liked his birthdays to be. He’d gotten all the partying out of his system in college. At twenty-seven—make that twenty-eight now—he was way past getting plastered on his birthday. His aunt and uncle had flown in from Chicago for the occasion, and Mom had baked a huge cake for him at the bakery, which she’d forbidden him to take a peek at for days. His three closest friends, Becka, Daniella, and Christian, had all managed to find Mom’s house, too. Of course, it was hard to miss. It was bright pink. The two shades used on the exterior looked like an

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advertisement for Pepto-Bismol, but he wasn’t going to judge it. His  mom had made this older seventies flat feel like a sanctuary, despite  the décor.

He sat in his favorite beaten-up recliner in the living room and smiled. He loved being surrounded by his family.

“So what are you going to wish for your birthday?” Daniella asked with a cheeky smile. She had her arms wrapped around a big rectangular box decorated in “Happy Birthday!” wrapping paper that looked like it belonged at a five-year-old’s party. It even had a cartoon dog chewing on one of the letters. She was quirky like that.

“I’m going to wish that the world ends before Saturday so that I don’t have to go out with James Delacroy,” he answered automatically.

“You’re going out with James? God, why?” Christian was quick to voice, making a face of displeasure at the mere thought.

Madigan wrinkled his nose in matching disgust. “It’s Mom’s birthday present to me. She had too much time on her hands last week at the bakery and cooked up this scheme with James’s mother.” Becka and Daniella started laughing. He glared. “So not funny.”

“That’s hilarious,” Becka declared, standing up from her position on the couch and crossing to the small table near the fireplace where everyone had been putting their presents. She put her box on the table before grabbing Daniella’s and putting it beside hers. Hers wasn’t nearly as obnoxious. The small box looked like some kind of satin material.

“Maybe you’ll be surprised and enjoy yourself,” Daniella said,  barely managing to quell the full-blown grin that was threatening to  make her statement blatantly hopeless.

“Rrriiiiggght,” Christian answered before Madigan got a chance.  “Have you ever met the guy? He’s a total sleazeball. So not worthy of  our Madi.”

“He might be different when you get him one-on-one,” Daniella

protested, playing devil’s advocate. Her lips twitched. “Besides, Madi

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might like jerks. No one really knows. He never dates anymore. What  do you say, Madigan?”

He flipped her off.

“Madigan Raphael, don’t let me see you do that again.” His  mother’s voice made him wince.
 
Damn
. She had eyes everywhere. He  looked up. She stood in the entrance to the dining room with a plain  brown box that looked pretty heavy, tied with twine.

“Need some help, Mom?” Madigan asked automatically. She gave  him a mysterious smile.

“No. No. Not at all. Just take your friends into the angel room and  we’ll sing happy birthday. I’ll meet you there.” She juggled the box a  little to get a better grip on it before taking the thing into the kitchen.  Madigan shrugged internally. If his mom wanted to prove her  independence, far be it for him to try and stop her.

“Angel room?” Becka wondered as they all climbed out of their  perspective couches.

“Yeah…” Madigan stalled. “My mom has this thing with the  Archangel Raphael. The study was converted into the angel room  when I was little. The whole place is a little overwhelming.” He  chuckled a little. “Well, you’ll see it for yourself in just a second.” He  turned to the right and headed down the hallway.

“I’ve heard of people decorating their houses with Jesus and Mary  statues if they’re religious, but I didn’t think your family was,”  Christian said a little uncomfortably. Since Christian was a gay man  from an ultraconservative Christian family, Madigan could see why  he would be nervous. They’d turned on his friend when he came out  of the closet at sixteen.

“We’re not religious. We’re spiritual. Mom just really loves  Raphael. Like,
 
loves
 
him. He’s the Archangel of healing and comfort  or whatever, but she thinks she’s had a personal experience with  him,” he offered. They finally stood in front of the French doors that  led into the study. The curtains were down so that the windows of the

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doors were covered. He smirked a little. His friends would get the full  effect. The place was way over the top.

“What sort of personal experience with him?” Daniella wondered  curiously. Madigan cleared his throat uncomfortably. This was the  part he really didn’t think about.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of it, Madigan.” He jumped as his  mother’s voice entered their conversation. She’d snuck up on them  somehow.

“I’m not ashamed,” Madigan protested.

His mother’s eyes narrowed. “Then tell them the truth.”

He sighed and glanced at his feet. “My mom thinks that

Archangel Raphael is my dad.”

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Chapter Two

What a long, strange night
. Madigan’s friends had taken the news of his mother’s “quirk” better than he’d expected. Christian had given him a look that said plainly that he thought the mere suggestion of the angel of healing being his daddy was crazy as hell, but that was the worst reaction by far. Becka and Daniella had been utterly fascinated.

He yawned and climbed the stairs to his second-floor apartment. It was a little after eleven. He lived above the bakery he worked at. The baker gave a little salute to the Good Eat Sweets glowing neon pink-and-yellow sign. He stretched his arms and the bags he held over his head to try and get feeling back into his arms. The presents he’d gotten were heavy. His fingertips were tingling. Especially the huge box he’d stuck into the equally huge bag from his aunt with the handles on it. He had no idea how he was going to open his door.

“Oh come on!” he grumbled as the bottom of the bag ripped and spilled the contents of his birthday party onto the ground. He cursed softly as the items collided with the dirty, metallic stairs. He looked up into the cloudy sky and glared.

“Don’t I get a break since it’s my birthday,
 
Dad
?” he joked to the rain clouds. They didn’t answer with a rain of glowing, divine light, just a thick drop of rain. Figured. He cursed again. If he didn’t get his stuff off the stairs, he was going to get wet rust all over his new sweater. He snatched up what he could and made a mad dash for his front door about ten steps up on the landing.

Crap. Crap. Crap, he thought, digging in his pockets for his jangle of keys. Shop keys. Storage keys. Car keys. Where the hell were his apartment keys? He had two, one for the knob lock and another for

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the dead bolt.
 
Found them
. He held them up triumphantly just as a  smattering of more water droplets fell onto his head. He had to hurry.  He was sure he had a spare box somewhere in his apartment that  would be able to hold on the crap from his—

Who the fuck are they
? He pushed open the door and was greeted  by the sight of four huge guys standing in his kitchen. He blinked, his  mind blanking. Was this some sort of break-in or something? Then he  came to the insane realization that these weren’t normal men. The

eight-foot wings they were sporting belayed that sort of thinking  entirely.

“Is that the nephilim?” the blond guy nearest his refrigerator  asked.
 
The nepha-what
?

“I believe so. He has Lord Raphael’s coloring,” another of the  huge guys answered. He was also a blond, but his hair was longer and  curlier than Refrigerator Dude.

“It is he.” Another voice joined in. He was more massive than any  of the others. His hair was dark brown, and his wings were the color  of indigo.
 
Pretty
. The being cocked his head to the side and gave him  the same look Madigan imagined snakes gave to mice before they  struck. “Kill him.”

Oh
 
fuck.

* * * *

Madigan gripped his side, giving another breathless scream as  Refrigerator Guy swung a freaking honest-to-God flaming sword at his head. He ducked but barely. He felt the heat off the weapon singe his hair.

“Angels officially suck ass!” he screamed as they backed him into  the corner of living room. What had he done? What had he possibly  done to piss God off so much? They circled closer, their swords at the  ready.

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The one with the indigo wings spoke. “Nephilim, child of sin, we hereby dispatch you unto hell. Where you belong.” The words were spat. There was such venom behind those sentences that the terror  Madigan was feeling was raised exponentially by their uttering. He closed his eyes and prepared to die.

The living-room windows shattered inward. The sound of breaking glass and the softly spoken curses of the maniacs wielding the flames made Madigan’s eyes snap back open. He whimpered in utter terror as yet more angels poured into the room.

The indigo asshole hissed like a cat as he caught sight of the other angels. “How dare you interfere!”

A six-foot-something, red-haired man with bulging biceps stepped to the front of the pack so that the others flanked him in a vee formation. Despite the danger all around him, Madigan all but drooled at the gorgeous display. It would really suck if he was also here to kill him. “Sorry to bust your bubble, Azrael. We cannot allow this travesty to take place.”
 
Oh, thank God.
 
Someone was on his side.

Gorgeous brown eyes lit on him. “Madigan, come to me.”
 
Anywhere. Anytime
. The thought crossed Madigan’s mind before he could edit it out. Where had that come from? Those deep-coffee irises flared with recognition. Could angels read thoughts?

“Hurry up!” another angel to the redhead’s right snapped. His hair was pitch black, and his eyes were just as dark. He also had a lip ring.
 
Lip ring? Really?
 
“Move it!” The growl in the other man’s voice was intriguing.

The redhead cursed violently. “He’s angelstruck. Grab him, Dex!”  Without warning, someone grabbed him roughly from behind. Indigo and his buddies lunged, but he was suddenly no longer there.

He yelped, his head spinning in disorientation. He was surrounded by the smell of man. He blinked and found himself in the middle of the new angels. He looked over his shoulder and met the eyes of the scariest man he’d ever seen. He was as big as all the others, but an

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aura of “other” clung to him so hard that Madigan had no doubt that  he could rip out someone’s soul without missing a beat.

“Uh…” He tried for speech. Failed. He cleared his throat and tried  again. “I–I–What?” he managed.