Downs, Jana - Angel Bound [His Guardian Angels 1] (Siren Publishing LoveXtreme Forever ManLove - Serialized) (3 page)

The black-haired one addressed the redhead. He seemed to be the

leader. “You need to take him to safeplace.”

“Yes,” the redhead agreed and took Madigan’s hand. He pulled  him out of the scary angel’s arms. “Relax, Madigan. We have you.”

That was all fine and dandy, but who the hell was “we”? The  angel scooped him up like a bride and headed toward the window.  Madigan looked up into the redhead’s face in awe as the sounds of  clashing weaponry screamed behind them. The smell of smoke filled  his nostrils. Then the angel climbed up on the broken windowsill,  cradling Madigan with one hand, and leapt out into the night. As the  wind whipped around them, Madigan slid into blissful  unconsciousness.

* * * *

It was damp when Madigan awoke. He shivered. The baker tried to rouse himself from his stupor.
 
What a crappy birthday
. The nightmare had been a bitch, and now the rain had saturated the air in his apartment. He probably left a window open or something.

“Wake, young one,” a severely masculine voice interjected in his internal dialogue. “You’ll catch a cold if you stay on the cave floor, son of Raphael. Wake.” It was then he noticed that the ground beneath his cheek was not the familiar, fluffy comfort of his pillow.  He was a notorious slave to creature comforts. He forced his gritty eyes open. Gray mud and rock was under his cheek.

“Oh shit,” he muttered. “That wasn’t a dream. Some asshole with

indigo wings really busted into my place.” He struggled to sit up, but  he was stiff. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his brain.  “How long have I been here, Red?”

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The redhead frowned. “My name is Cross. Not Red. You have been here roughly four hours.” He knelt beside Madigan’s prone body and dug into a backpack that was located there. Madigan tensed for a second. The angel gave him a curious look and pulled out a bottle of  Aquafina water. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

Madigan took a grateful swig from the bottle. “Thanks.”

“It is not a problem. We’re supposed to be taking care of you.”  The angel—God, he couldn’t believe that Red was a frigging angel.  The angel stood and walked to the other side of the cave wall and leaned against it.

“Who is ‘we,’ and why are you supposed to be taking care of me?  Furthermore, who the hell were those guys? And why are they after me?” Fifty questions sprang to Madigan’s mind and poured from his mouth in rapid succession.

Red displayed a crooked grin that made Madigan’s heart lurch unexpectedly. “You are a curious creature, son of Raphael.”

Madigan’s mouth hung open. “He’s really my father?”

The angel frowned. “Of course he is. Who do you think sent us to you?”

“I thought Mom was making it up,” he muttered, half to himself.  “So he sent you to save me from those”—he paused—“demons?”

That crooked smile returned. “Actually, they were angels. A special sect of angels ordained at the time of Sodom and Gomorrah to hunt down those nephilim who turned from the path of light and wreaked havoc on the mortal world.”

“I am so not wreaking havoc. I’m not even dating!” he protested.

“Their angelic purpose was perverted by their leaders long ago.  Now they hunt all nephilim that come of age.” Madigan rolled to his  knees, wincing at the bruises that were there. He must’ve banged  himself up trying to get the hell out of the way last night. “At twentyeight, nephilim reach their sexual maturity and are able to breed. The  choirs who follow the hunt think that humans shouldn’t have any  angelic energy in them. They see it as a perversion. Nephilim also

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start to emit an angelic aura, which acts like a beacon to the choirs  that hunt them. Your father knew this, and so he acted in the only way  he could. He petitioned each of the archangels to donate a guardian  for your protection until you finish the transition from youth to adult.  Once you’ve come into your powers, you may petition your father for  official protection which he can take to the Metatron to forbid the  hunters from seeking you out.”

“I’m going through angelic puberty?” Madigan asked stupidly.
 
Great. Like regular human puberty hadn’t been bad enough
. Granted,  he was blessed with good looks and an excellent immune system but  still. The awkward emotional stage had been hell.

“Yes. In a sense, that is exactly what is occurring. You’ve never  had any real interest in sex before, but you’ll start to notice a change  now.”

Apparently, twenty-eight came with a gaggle of gorgeous winged men, who could possibly be interested in killing him, and a permanent hard-on. Great.

Any reply that he could’ve formed was interrupted as the sound of flapping wings filled the cavern. Madigan couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his mouth. What if Red’s other buddies had been killed or had given away their location? What if Indigo was coming to finish him off?

“It is the rest of your guardians returning, Madigan. Relax,” Red  commanded. Madigan found himself drawn to the angel’s side. He  felt safe there. The angel surprised him by wrapping a strong arm  around his shoulders and drew him into the shelter of his chest.

Madigan inhaled deeply. The angel smelled good. Really good.  Lickable even. Why did the damn angel have to smell so good? He wanted to rub against him like a cat. The angel’s breath hitched as  Madigan’s breath blew over his bare chest.

“M–Madigan.” Red’s voice hitched, and Madigan moved impossibly closer. He had to resist the urge to press his lips to the heavy pectoral muscles of Red’s chest. His name was Cross, wasn’t

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it?
 
Yeah
.
 
Cross
. It entranced Madi when Cross’s wings fluttered,  Madigan interpreted it as nervousness. It was gorgeous.

“I see he’s taking this really well.” A snarky voice interrupted  their moment. “Angelic transition seems to be hardening that sweet  cock of his right up. Tell me, Cross, how does it feel pressed against  your thigh? Like coming home? You in the mood for a little slap and  tickle with the boss’s son?”

Madigan froze in embarrassment.
 
Holy shit
. He was cuddled up with Cross like they were a couple or something.

“Oh my God. I’m sorry,” he managed to stammer before pulling away. The angel let him go reluctantly. Madigan turned to see the rest of the angels who’d flown into his window standing in a semicircle facing them. He swallowed and resisted the urge to adjust himself.  He’d never had this problem before.
 
Dammit
. He felt the burn in his cheeks and knew they were scarlet.

The black-haired one stepped forward. His wings flexed with muscle, and it made Madigan take a step back. Their midnight-black color reminded him of ravens’ wings, and the whole death metaphor didn’t seem implausible at the moment. “Nice to know that you’re getting friendly with daddy’s special kiss ass while we’re out there risking our necks for you, pretty boy,” the angel all but snarled in his face.

“That is enough, Bren. There is no reason to be so rude. He meant  no harm,” the blond said, grabbing the snarling one’s arm. The  blond’s arctic-blue eyes were glittering, hard diamonds even in the  dim light that came from the overhead shaft.

Bren turned and growled. An honest-to-God growl. “You start  fucking with me, Michel, and I will kick your ass all the way back to  the frontlines so that you can suck Michael off with that same mouth  that you’re using to piss me off with.”

“What sort of angel talks like that?” Madigan interrupted  incredulously. Those pitch-black eyes narrowed on him.

“The sort that didn’t want to be here to begin with.” Bren glared.

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“Well, then don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out.”  Madigan snapped, losing the tenuous hold on his temper. “I didn’t ask  you to be here, you angelic prick. So why don’t you just leave?”

“Gladly!” Bren shouted, jumping up and using his massive wings  to lift himself off the ground. Three more gigantic flaps and he was  airborne, and within fifteen seconds he was out of sight. Madigan  stared after him for another minute before turning to the rest of the

group.

“What the hell was that about?” Madigan wondered.

“Don’t worry about it,” the one named Michel said with a smile.  “He’s one of Lucifer’s, and he’s got a temper from hell.” He tapped  his chin thoughtfully. “Well, not from hell. Bren didn’t actually fall.”  He laughed at himself easily. He was obviously really laid back.

Still, Madigan’s eyes bulged. “Lucifer? As in the devil? He’s one

of
 
Lucifer’s
 
angels?”

“Of course,” Cross answered. “Your father made sure
 
every
 
Archangel contributed to your protection, and Lucifer is among that  number.”

“I get the whole protection thing, but
 
Lucifer
?” Madigan  squeaked. In the future, he was really going to attempt to not piss that  guy off.

“Why do humans get hung up on the Archangel Lucifer?” Michel  wondered aloud. “He works for God the same as the rest. To draw a

comparison, he is the janitor of the heavenly realms. He cleans up the  filth and deposits it where it goes. Why does everyone act like he’s so  utterly terrifying?”

Cross made an irritated sound. “We’re not introducing ourselves  very well to our charge.”

“He’s right.” The scary one named Dex added his voice to the  mix. It made Madigan jump. He didn’t strike him as the talking type.  Dex stepped forward and gave a little bow. “I am Dex. My Archangel  is Lord Gabriel. It is a pleasure to guard you, Madigan.” Madigan

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gave him a tentative smile. It was the first real greeting he’d gotten  from the group of angels who had saved his life.

Michel stepped forward next. “I’m Michel. My lord is Archangel  Michael.” He reached out and ruffled Madigan’s hair like he was a  kid or something. “Looking forward to working with you, cutey.” He  winked, and Madigan blushed. Madigan found himself leaning into  the angel’s hand, and Michel obliged him by stroking his hair, petting  him like a cat. Michel also smelled good. What was it with angels and  smelling like something edible?

Cross walked to his right and gently took his arm to pull him out  of Michel’s touch. “Easy, Madigan. Your instincts are sharper with us  around.”

“Instincts?” Madigan found himself asking. He had been enjoying  Michel’s stroking hands.

“I told you, you’re going through angelic maturity. You’re going  to want to seek out and mate with eligible playmates,” Cross said  patiently. Madigan leaned into him and tried to steady himself. The  angel was right. If he was going through angel puberty, then he  needed to get a hold of his hormones. Just because he wanted to rub  himself against these men like a bitch in heat didn’t mean that he had  to act on it.

“Sorry,” he muttered. Cross ran his hand down Madigan’s arm in  a gentle caress.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He took a step back, and Madigan felt  the space between them. It felt cold. “As you know, I’m Cross. Your  father, Lord Raphael, is my Archangel and direct superior.”

“So what now?” Madigan asked after the group fell silent for an  endless stretch of time. They all just stared at him. His heart sank.  “You didn’t think that far ahead or something? What am I supposed  to do? Stay in this big hole in the ground until I can petition Daddy  for a get-out-of-hell-free card?”

Cross looked at Dex. “Have you been in contact with Yuri?”

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Dex nodded. “He’s still working on a solution. Raphael has called a meeting of the archangels to establish some sort of sanctuary, but a permanent solution is still not forthcoming.”

“Who’s Yuri?” Madigan asked in confusion. It seemed that all he’d done for the past several hours was be confused. Their eyes lit on him.

“Yuri is the donation from Archangel Uriel. He’s currently in the  temples in Eden trying to find a way to offer you protection other than  just our warring capabilities. Your transition could take years, and we  want to affect your life adversely as little as possible. Therefore,  finding a way to allow you to continue your work at the bakery is  paramount to our mission,” Dex offered. The low, tight rumble of his  voice was both frightening and soothing. He was the one you wanted  to call when you needed the soul ripped out of the boogeyman when  he was giving you nightmares. Hell, the guy probably chased the  nightmares, too.

“How many of you are there?” Madigan demanded. His life was  being overrun by gorgeous winged protectors.
 
Jeez
. When had his life  turned into a movie that Keanu Reeves would play in?

“Five total. As I’ve said. One from each Archangel.” Cross’s  patient voice soothed him. If he would’ve been him, Madigan would  have been pulling his hair out by now. He knew he asked fifty million  questions. It was just his way.