Inked by an Angel (26 page)

He rocked his hips. He thrust. He shook her world.

She choked in air, her lips at his neck where she tasted the salt on his skin.

He thrust again. And again.

He pulled back and pushed up onto his hands so he could gaze down into her face. Something about all of this tugged at her memory—her heart. But what?

Her heavy-lidded eyes slid down his chest. Just as she was about to succumb to what he was doing to her, and within her, her blurry vision cleared enough for her to focus and she saw it.

There, on his smooth left pec, her face, in black and white repose, stared back, her name boldly inked below.

Her eyes flew back to his as everything settled back into place.

He searched her face. Something in the way his eyes blazed begged for understanding. “The Angel made me do it.”

Kyle glanced at the clock as Jed slept soundly next to her, his big arm a steel band around her waist. 3:08. She was going to miss her flight. She rolled over and tried to study the tattoo of her face on his chest. It was crazy, like looking in a mirror.

He moaned and shifted in his sleep. She glanced up. He was still out like a light. She traced the image of her own nose and lips. Her name on his skin.

Because, you see, in order for me to put something like that on my body again, I decided it would have to be tantamount to a promise between me and God that it was forever.

Like sealed in blood?

Like soulmates.

So, you’d be declaring your undying love or proposing marriage or something?

Something like that. But more like giving away my heart and soul.

She couldn’t believe any of this. His love was enough. But he had promised so much more.

His hands moved to caress her side and rest on the swell of her hip. She looked up. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.” He pulled her closer and squinted to look at the clock on the nightstand. “Ah, baby, I’m so sorry. You’re not gonna make that flight, are you?”

She shrugged. “It’s all right.”

“No, it’s not. Rome was important to you.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll pay the difference for whatever it costs to get you there on a different flight and to change your plans, okay?”

And she thought she couldn’t love him any more. “I’ve got you. That’s more important to me right now. I’ll get there someday.”

He tapped her nose. “Well, if you’re not dead set on going by yourself, I could take you on our honeymoon.”

She pulled back a fraction, her brows furrowed. Did he just say what she thought he said? “
Honeymoon?
”

“Well, yeah. Are you saying you’d rather go alone?”

She fought off his arm and sat up, drawing the sheet around her breasts. “Uh, you lost me back at ‘honeymoon.’”

He scratched his belly, drawing her attention momentarily to the Japanese text on his ribs. “Why?”

Was he that dense? “Is this a proposal, Jed?”

“I thought we were past all that.” He yanked the sheet away, so they were both as naked as the day they were born, and moved to his knees facing her. “I’m sorry, baby. I guess I’ve jumped a few steps ahead of you.” He took her hand. “I just thought after everything we talked about and experienced tonight it was a given. You’re it, Kyle. Take my heart and soul—they’re yours. I’m ready now.” He leaned over and kissed her. “Marry me. Please.”

She studied his gorgeous blue eyes. The love in them was surreal. “Of course I’ll marry you.” Was there ever a doubt?

He pulled her into his arms and made love to her again, this time as the gentle sounds of a summer storm tapped at the windows.

Later, lulled by the steady hiss of the rain and the warmth of the naked man at her back, Kyle felt herself drifting off to sleep. As her drowsy brain began to wander into the land of dreams and imaginings, a thought occurred to her.

She squeezed Jed’s hand. “Babe?”

“Hmmm?” He mumbled, his face buried in her neck.

God, she loved him. “I just remembered something you said. About your tattoo.” He shifted and pulled her closer. “You said The Angel made you do it? Michael talked you into it?”

He kissed the dip of her shoulder. “Nah. It wasn’t like that. I asked him to do it.”

She turned over and faced him. “But you said—”

His sleepy eyes opened and he pinned her with the blue gaze she adored. “I know. The Angel did make me do it.
My
angel.” He caressed the hair back from her face. “You’re my angel, baby. I think you always were.”

1. An Angel shall have no other God before the Father.
   
2. An Angel shall never reveal their angelic visage or mission to a human unless commanded, ordained or, in exceptional cases, Heavenly possession by the Father.
   
3. An Angel shall never bear false witness against another Angel.
   
4. An Angel shall never have romantic or intimate relations with a human.
   
5. An Angel shall never question nor impugn the will of the Father and shall always fulfill their mission to the best of their God-given ability.
   

Who says Time heals all wounds? That’s Love’s job.

And now, our Cupid Michael’s gotta earn his wings. Again.

Please turn the page for a preview of Noble’s story:

The Halo Effect:

Book II of the Cupid Chronicles

Coming from Soul Mate Publishing May 2013

Crash!
Noble bolted up in bed at the resounding clang of metal hitting concrete. The ear-splitting
rah-bah-bah
drone of hardcore death metal music made his head pound. He glanced at the digital clock on his nightstand.
Shit.
He’d only managed to snag a couple hours sleep.

He padded to the window and cracked the mini-blinds. He reared back when the sun pierced his tired eyes and let the blinds snap shut with a curse.

He was about to give up and slide back in bed with a pillow over his head when the hideous grating noise started again followed by a screeching sound, then the obnoxious wailing music cranked up infinitely louder. His new neighbor wasn’t usually this noisy. Cute,
yes
. Loud,
no
.

With a tired sigh, he squinted his eyes to prepare for the sunny onslaught and tipped the blinds open again to figure out what in the hell all the racket was about. How could one tiny woman make so much friggin’ noise? He wouldn’t be so tired if his boss and best friend, Jed, hadn’t left him babysitting the business while he went away on his honeymoon. All those extra shifts kept him up too damn late.

He scanned the tidy, postage-stamp-sized yard next door. She’d already planted some pink flowery things. That probably explained the sweet scent on the breeze when he came home at night, but there was no sign of her right now. He had no idea what her name was or her story. Only that she was little and cute and had a killer ass.

Wait
. A movement caught his eye from inside the open garage. But it wasn’t
Sweet Cheeks
, as he’d come to think of her. A lanky figure dressed in a black hoodie snuck inside and disappeared almost as quickly as Noble caught sight of him. His heart began to beat double-time as he wrestled with what to do. Call the cops? Go make sure she was all right?

“Damn it.”

He let the blinds slap closed again and threw on the same jeans and T-shirt he had discarded just a couple of hours earlier. Barefooted, he ran down the hallway, ducked out the front door and raced across the yard.

Quietly, he pressed himself against the brick of her exterior wall, which was already warming with the sun’s rays. His eyes darted around, searching for any sign of his neighbor, but he didn’t see anything. The music was unbelievably deafening now and his eardrums rattled with each beat of the bass drum.

How could she not hear this? Was she already hurt? Had she turned the shit on and this guy was using it as his cover to get in and . . . His heart rate picked up speed as he thought of the possibilities.

He peered around the corner into the garage and caught sight of the guy in the hoodie and black jeans tinkering with something in the corner of the room near the door to her house. A protectiveness surged through him and he knew he had only moments to keep this hoodlum from getting inside.

Never taking his eyes off the back of the guy’s head, he inched his way inside the garage and along the wall. The pungent mixture of gasoline, degreaser, and fertilizer combined with the punch of adrenaline that pumped fast and furious through his veins, forming a potent cocktail. The bass drum now beat so loud it thrummed in his chest as he got almost close enough to grab the hoodie. Just two more steps. One more.

Noble grabbed the guy from behind and pinned him against his chest. He reached over and turned off the stereo. His ears rang in the deafening silence. His ragged breathing filled the grease-scented air. “What do you think you’re doing?” he growled into the hoodlum’s ear.

The guy squirmed against him. He was much smaller than Noble had originally thought. “I, um . . .” His voice cracked.

Noble turned him around and looked him in the face. He was just a kid, and he was wide-eyed with fear. He looked ready to piss his pants.

The door to the house flew open. “How many times have I told you about that blasted . . . Tristan?”

Noble and the kid both looked over.
Oh, shit. Sweet Cheeks
.

“Mom?” the kid croaked.

Sweet Cheeks morphed into mama bear as she stormed over and ripped the kid from Noble’s grasp. “Get your hands off him!” She pushed her baby cub behind her back and eyed Noble with true disdain. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She glanced over her shoulder. “Tristan, go inside.” The kid swallowed and eyed him for a moment before disappearing into the house. Then all bets were off when she turned back with hellfire in her amber eyes.

Noble might’ve been turned on if he wasn’t so stunned by her whirlwind temper. He held up his hands in surrender. “Whoa, there.” He tilted his head toward his house. “I live next door? I saw the kid and I thought you were being robbed.” He shrugged. “Sorry.”

She studied him, her eyes still wary and full of venom. “So you thought you’d come over here and what? Tackle a fourteen-year-old kid?” She looked him up and down, obviously thinking him a big bully.

Fourteen?
Jeez. With her tiny frame and cutesy little haircut, the woman barely looked legal herself. He took a breath. “Look, lady, I didn’t know he was a kid. I was only trying to help.”

She just stared at him. Probably trying to decide if she believed him or not.

Screw this
. He strode toward the open garage door and headed back home. He needed some damn sleep. “You’re welcome, by the way.” He left her staring at his back.

Braelyn watched the Hulk amble back to what she was sure was his man cave next door as her heart rate slowed to something near normal. She’d only seen glimpses of him coming and going at odd hours–mostly at night. But, Jiminy Cricket, she’d never seen anything like him up close and personal before. He summoned visions of an Indian warrior with the way he towered at least a foot taller than her, his midnight hair well past his shoulders and skin like smooth caramel. And those deep, dark, bottomless eyes . . . .

The door next to her cracked open with a squeak. Tristan poked half his face out. “Mom? Everything all right?” He looked around. “Is he gone?”

She took a breath. “Yes, he’s gone.” She looked her son up and down. “You okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

He shook his head emphatically, as if trying to prove his toughness. “Nah. Just rattled my chain a little.”

She nodded as her eyes unconsciously drifted to the dark, nondescript house next door with the tightly drawn blinds.
Who was he?

The boy stepped out and eyed the stranger’s house as well. “He’s a scary dude. He just came outta nowhere.”

She turned and ruffled her son’s hair, making him duck from her touch. Her heart missed her baby boy sometimes. “He thought you were a burglar.”

Tristan grinned. “Really? Cool.”

She grimaced as he turned his stereo back on and his mind-numbing music came blaring out again. She shook her head and turned down the volume, earning herself a glare. “No, not cool.”

She watched Tristan a few minutes longer as he tinkered around with what he wanted to be the motor on a dirt bike, and wished for the umpteenth time that his father wasn’t such a prick. He should be around to help him with stuff like this instead of playing house with his new flavor of the month. Well, if he hadn’t done it when they’d lived in the same state, he sure wasn’t going to start now that they’d moved over a thousand miles away to Texas. Poor kid.

But at least he was safe.

“I was coming to let you know lunch was almost ready. You’ve got a little while to finish up here.” When he didn’t answer, she leaned in close to him. “Anything I can do?”

He grabbed another socket. Or a wrench. Heck, she didn’t know. He shook his head. “Nah.”

She pressed her luck and brushed a kiss to his cheek, catching the scent of grease instead of her baby boy, before slipping back inside. The teachers had been sending home notes and calling her with concerns that he had been acting out at school. Class clown stuff. Missing assignments. Luckily, he hadn’t totally spiraled out of control into the realm of flat-out rebellion. Yet.

She was wondering what she could do to help her son when a loud creak reverberated through the room. She’d spent the last month doing all she knew how to fix up this crappy old house, but she was no Bob Villa.

Her gaze flew about the room as the noise became something akin to an unholy belch.

“Oh, fudge!” she cried as the pipe under her kitchen sink gave one last shriek for mercy and began spewing ice cold water like it was demon-possessed.