Voluptuous Vindication (9 page)

“Enough is enough,” she told him, using her arm to push her hair out of her face. “I know what Arch said, but I don't feel right about this. I'll get out of town on my own. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

“Really, Sara?
Really?
” Ian bit out, grabbing her by the shoulders and forcibly moving her with the strength of his body behind hers. He reminded her of a bulldozer. “How are you going to protect yourself when you can't even see the enemy?”

“Run real fast?”

“I'm not in the mood to play games,” he growled out.

“Neither am I,” Sara retorted, the heat of his body behind hers wrecking havoc with her thoughts. “I can see them, just the same as you.”

“Sure, when they want to make their true form visible to you. Otherwise, all you see is their human facade, which won't do you a damn bit of good. Once they show their true form, you'll be dying.”

“Then I'll avoid everyone and spend the next thirty days in isolation,” she ground out, knowing even as she said it how ridiculous it sounded. There was no way that could happen. It was simply impossible, and they both knew it. 

Ian herded her into a parking garage, pulling a key chain out of his pocket. Pushing a button, his vehicle unlocked. It was a state of the art SUV, fully equipped to travel the treacherous roads of Las Vegas. With just the touch of a button it started up, the engine warming as they made their way to it. Sara stared at it in bemusement.

He opened the trunk, quickly stowing their belongings in the back. “Where are we going?” Sara asked, handing him her briefcase and bag as she mentally conceded defeat.

“Mendocino,” he replied stiffly, closing the back. Taking her by the arm he helped her in, ignoring the look of stunned shock on her face. Slamming the door, he darted around the front and slid in beside her. “Put your seat belt on.”

“Your solution to all this is to take me to northern California?” Sara sputtered, fastening herself in. “It will take us forever to get there.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” he replied sarcastically, pulling out of parking garage so fast she experienced vertigo. “I wasn't aware that you were so eager to meet up with your date for death, because that's exactly what will happen if I don't get you away from here.”

“It's not that,” she replied, sighing. Her emotions were conflicted when it came to Ian. It was obvious he wished he were anywhere but here. She had only made it worse by throwing herself at him, although she hadn't done it consciously. Her eyes closed in weariness. It was exhausting, knowing the person in charge of protecting you hated every second of it. “Thank you for taking time out of your life to do this.”

He scoffed, the sound harsh and bitter in the interior of the vehicle. “I suppose I didn't have anything better to do. Life was getting pretty mundane. At least this adds a little spice to it.”

Ian gave her a quick look before turning back to the road. “I've been an Endurer for hundreds of years. How come I haven't heard of you?”

Sara shrugged tiredly. “It's not so uncommon, considering there are millions of angels. Besides, I'm one of the minor ones, sent in to assist a human that Heaven has a special eye on. I don't do work on a grand scale like Arch does.”

Ian nodded, navigating the icy roads easily. “It doesn't make your work any less important,” he replied in a gruff tone. The tiny hairs on her arms stood up. His voice was so masculine,
so sexy
. Even so, her physical reaction to him didn't make sense.

“I know,” she said in agreement. Sara had never resented her position. In fact, it suited her perfectly. She was more of a behind-the-scenes type of angel, and her positions were well-suited for her personality. “I'm not complaining.”

“Do you ever?” He asked harshly. “You don't strike me as the type of woman that would ever complain, even if the situation called for it. I hope you're not one of those long-suffering types. If you are, this trip is going to get very old, very fast.”

“What's your story, Ian,” Sara shot back, struggling to hide her irritation. “With your attitude, it must be a big one.”

Instead of retorting, he grinned grimly. It wasn't a pleasant expression. Instead, it was simply scary. Sara had seen that look before. Somewhere in the past, something, or someone, had hurt this Endurer badly. 

Her first instinct was compassion, but Ian was too hardened to take kindly to it. So she remained silent, waiting to see if he would continue. When he did, it wasn't what she was expecting.

“Consider my story a diary, with a giant padlock on it. It's not open to you, or anyone else, and it never will be. Let's just make this clear now. I've bedded hundreds of women in my lifetime, and I'm no novice when it comes to recognizing feminine sexual interest.”

He stopped, casting a firm look in her mortified direction before adding, “I'm not interested,  so don't bother. I'm not in the market to get laid, and even if I were, you wouldn't be my type.”

His words hurt as he made it painfully clear how he felt about her. “Why not?” Sara asked quietly. Sex, for her at least, was impossible. She didn't ask because she had the intentions of seducing him. She asked because she wondered what was so wrong with her that she wasn't even in the running.

Ian shot her an incredulous look, filled with equal amounts of dismay and disbelief. “Which part don't you understand?” He retorted, slowly shaking his head as if he couldn't believe her gall. “Who would have thought that an angel couldn't take no for an answer?”

Feeling lower than she'd ever felt in her entire long life, Sara opened her mouth to tell him to forget it. She didn't get the chance, though. A truck shot out of an alleyway, its lights off as it nearly collided with them. Without Ian's quick maneuvering of the vehicle, they would have hit it, effectively ending their exit out of Las Vegas.

The pick up slid on the thick ice, nearly taking out an empty casino before righting itself. Flipping their headlights on, they jerked in front of them. Ian's headlights lit up the back glass... And a huge sticker that read,
No Fat Chicks Allowed
.

“Imbecile,” Ian ground out, continuing down the road. The truck sped off into the darkness, with no thoughts to the well-being of the people in the vehicle behind him. “I hope he enjoys his joyride. Something tells me he won't be getting too many more of them.”

Sara was silent, the weight of the mortal world weighing heavily on her. At that moment, she couldn't have cared less what Ian thought of her silence. That was if he even noticed, which would be assuming a lot. Staring out the window, Sara struggled to regain control over her emotions. 

For the hundredth time, she wondered if maybe she simply wasn't cut out for this realm. What kind of humanity was it, when the society involved thought it was fine to hurt others in the manner that they did? Even worse, they felt self-righteous as they went about it. Mortals were extremely cruel and judgmental to one another.

They went through the motions of their daily lives, many of them believing they were better than another simply because of a physical characteristic. None of them stopped to consider just how low they'd fallen by thinking along those lines. It didn't matter how beautiful one was. Beauty didn't make someone a loyal friend or a good person. Society had forgotten the truly important things in life, and it didn't center around a large chest or perfect figure.

And now, the world was paying the price for it.

Sara held back tears, hoping that this assignment was her last one on this realm. She didn't have the heart to deal with the horrible thoughts, words, and actions of humanity, not anymore. It wasn't just the things that they said, it was how they thought. Vile actions and words came from a vile mind and heart, and most of the mortals found both to be perfectly acceptable behavior.

It hadn't always been that way. Humanity used to be accepting of one another. Value had been placed on family, manners, and doing the right things in life. It started to change the century before, though. Now anything went in the modern world, but it hadn't done them any favors.

The world was a mess. Mortals desperately searched for a way out of it, grasping for a solution that didn't involve returning to a simpler way of life. Their efforts would be in vain.

Leaning the seat back, she turned on her side, facing away from the silent Endurer. Her heart was heavy, and Sara couldn't ever recall feeling worse than she had since meeting Ian. Letting the motions of the vehicle lull her to sleep, she couldn't have cared less what he thought of her. Or so she told herself.

Chapter 5

Ian waited until he was positive she was asleep before releasing his frustrations. “Damn, damn, DAMN,” he swore softly, clenching the steering wheel hard. In the space of a night, he'd managed to mess this up completely, making his protection detail personal, when it shouldn't have been.

He glanced at the woman out of the corner of his eyes, locking onto the curve of her plump ass and thighs underneath the pajama bottoms she wore. His words to her were only half the truth. In the past, he hadn't been attracted to women of her size. That had all changed when he'd laid on top of her and experienced those curves for himself. Her body had set his on fire. And when she'd responded,  hooking her ankles over his legs to hold onto him? Had it not been for the demons Ian would have taken what she was so richly offering.

Sara was a temptation he didn't want or need. Not after the events of New Orleans. Despite the physical reaction he was experiencing, Ian wasn't sure he would ever truly desire sex again. He hoped one day he would, though. In the past, it had definitely been one of his favorite past times. Immortality was a long time, especially if you were unable to indulge in sensual conquests.

As fun and pleasurable as sex was, there could be a darker side to it. His forehead broke out in a cold sweat. There were ones that thrived on hurting and degrading others with sexual actions, taking something that should be mutually enjoyable and turning it into a destructive act. Hell thrived on destroying souls from the inside out, and it was something they did often.

His lips twisted bitterly. He wouldn't let Hell destroy him, and he wouldn't let it destroy his faith. The events in New Orleans had only given him a reason to fight harder... He just hadn't realized it until now.

Ian was an immortal warrior, an Endurer that never backed down from a battle, even if the odds were stacked against him. It was time to remember that. He would protect the innocents, and take out as many demons as possible. His days of shame were over. No longer would he hold onto a burden that wasn't his to bear.

Ian knew from years of experience that many mortals
would
let an act of evil question their beliefs. He'd heard it time and time again.
If there was a God, why would he let it happen?
Mortals always looked to blame good itself, even in acts perpetrated by Hell.

That night in New Orleans, Ian had
made
the choice to step in. Had he not, he would have had to live with the guilt of Peter's mate destroyed by the heinous acts about to be forced upon her. Instead, he'd chosen to take that  burden upon his own shoulders. Given the chance to go back in time and relive it, he wouldn't choose differently. Never could he have have stood by and let that happen to someone else. Never.

As any soul progressed through life, evil used everything it had to try to break them down. He was immortal, and an Endurer, but he still had a soul. He'd let the demons nearly destroy him, even knowing their actions for what they were. It was a mistake, one he wouldn't make again. 

Ian felt better. Not healed, but he was no longer crazed. Closure wouldn't come until he finished the demons from New Orleans. He was confident one day they would be held accountable, punished with the blade of his sword. In the meantime, he wasn't going to let their vile acts ruin nearly six hundred years of living. He was an Endurer. And he was back. 

* * * * *

The SUV ate up the miles between Las Vegas and Mendocino. Night turned into day, the miles passing quickly as Ian listened to one rock song after another on the radio. Ian grew concerned when she still hadn't stirred by lunchtime. She had to be well-rested after all the hours she'd been asleep.

“Sara,” he said, his voice cross in the silence. “Wake up. I'm sure you have mortal needs that must be attended to.”

When she didn't respond, unease spread throughout his body. He turned off at the nearest exit, needing to refuel the tank. Within seconds, he pulled into the parking lot of the closest gas station, grasping her gently by the shoulder to roll her over.

Even through the coat she still wore, his sensitive sense of touch picked up the heat of her body. It was hot, too hot to be normal. Moving his hand to her neck, he checked for a pulse. Ian sighed in relief when he picked up hers. His relief didn't last long, though. Her pulse was off, and Sara was unresponsive. Something was terribly wrong.

Unaccustomed to tending to the ill, and out of practice from his years of immortality, he grabbed his phone and speed-dialed Arch. It rang once, twice, before Arch's voice came on the line. “Yes, Ian?”

“Arch, I've got a problem,” he said to the other man, tight-lipped and filled with apprehension.

“Another one?” Arch asked coolly. “What is it this time? Has your underwear got twisted in a bunch? I know you're unhappy about having to guard the woman.” He sighed, his voice tired. “I've had exactly thirty-seven minutes of sleep. This had better be good.”

Ian bit back his angry retort. If Arch hadn't insisted on him taking over her care, he wouldn't need to be calling. Concern for the woman overrode his irritation. “The angel, she's unresponsive. I can't wake her.”

“You mean to tell me that in less than twelve hours of your care she's dead?” Arch asked in disbelief.

“No, not yet,” he denied, scowling.
He wasn't that bad.
“There's something wrong with her. She's fevered and won't respond.”

Arch was silent for a moment. Ian didn't know if he was thinking or using one of his special set of skills, and he didn't care. He just wanted the angel fixed. He was an Endurer, not a nursemaid.

Finally, Arch asked, “How long has she been that way?”

“For awhile, I suppose,” Ian replied, glancing around the truck stop parking lot. Nobody was paying them any mind, probably because the lot was empty. “She went to sleep hours ago, while it was still dark out.” He cleared his throat guiltily before adding, “I didn't check on her until now.”

“Unbelievable,” Arch growled into the phone. “What in the hell is wrong with you?”

“Stop pushing me, Arch,” Ian warned. “Stop pushing me, or find someone else to take care of her. I've had just about enough of this assignment.”

“It's only been
fourteen hours.
” Arch slowly enunciated each word.

“Enough of this,” Ian bit out, placing the back of his hand against her face. If anything, she felt hotter to him. Her pale cheeks were flushed red. So was her neck, from what he could see above the coat. “Tell me what to do. Should I take her to a human hospital?”

“If you do, she won't walk back out. I can guarantee that. Demons will be on that hospital faster than you could blink. They've been scouring Las Vegas since you left, leaving death and destruction everywhere they go. The police are investigating your penthouse right now, completely puzzled. Apparently, your place is wrecked, with black, paint-like stains in various areas. They are going to close out the investigation as a vandalism, though.  As overworked as they are, they simply won't have the time to do a full investigation.”

“So the hospital is out,” Ian mused, uncaring of the state of the penthouse. It was nothing more than a belonging, certainly not as important as a human life. “What do I do, then? She can't be left like this.”

“Pull in at the pump and get your gas. Once you're inside, ask the clerk for something to relieve fever. Get both the liquid and capsule kind. Also, get her something to drink.”

Ian didn't give a thought to how the angel knew where he was at. After hundreds of years, he was used to Arch having an awareness that surpassed even their senses. He was stunned by his suggestion, though. “You want me to get her alcohol?”

Arch groaned, the sound somewhere between irritation and amusement. “No, you idiot. Get her bottled water. In fact, get a case of them. She's got a bad case of flu from the cold and exposure. Follow the directions on the bottle, keep her hydrated, and feed her when she's able. And above all, keep her safe, Ian.”

“Do I give her the capsules or the liquid?”

Arch's voice was amused when he replied, “Try to get the liquid down her now. Don't overdose her. Once she's regained consciousness, you can give her the capsules. I'll be praying for the angel. Hopefully, she'll survive your tender, loving care.”

“Real funny,” Ian ground out. “It's all I can do to hold back the laughter.”

“Great. Now that your problem is solved, I'm going back to bed. By the way, don't forget to get a thermometer and make sure it's not a rectal one.”

“Wait,” Ian said quickly, but it was too late. Arch had disconnected the call. Ian tossed his phone down into the center console, putting the SUV into gear. There really hadn't been anything more to add to the call, although he wondered what a rectal thermometer was. Anything with the word rectal in it didn't sound much fun. Ian vowed to avoid it at all costs.

After filling the tank, he checked on Sara one more time. She was still unconscious, her fever raging within her weakened body. Leaving the engine running to keep her comfortable, he stalked into the truck stop. It was nearly empty, except for the pimply-faced male teenager behind the counter.

Ian's eyes settled on him, his expression grim. He bypassed everything, coming to a stop in front of the nervous young male. “I want all of your medicines to relieve fever, including liquids and capsules. Plus, I want a thermometer, the best one you have, and make sure it's not rectal.” He narrowed his eyes at the wide-eyed clerk in front of him. “I don't do rectal, and I won't use anything that involves an ass.”

The clerk looked nervous. “Um, that's good to know.”

Ian looked around, checking out the inventory. “I want two cartons of every kind of pop you have, and five cases of bottled water.” He grabbed his expensive leather wallet out of his back pocket, carefully counting out five, one-hundred dollar bills. Dropping them on the counter, he growled out, “Load up my order, and you get to keep the change.”

The clerk grinned happily, grabbing the money. “Shit, yeah. Anything you say.” He rang everything up while Ian waited. “Which ride is yours?”

Ian shot him a droll look, before replying, “The only one out there.”

“Okay,” he agreed cheerfully, pocketing his portion. “Pull your vehicle to the door. I'll get you all fixed up.”

* * * * *

Sara fought through the layers of darkness, struggling to wake up. She felt horrible, sicker than she could recall being in a thousand years. Although mortal, she still had some residual resistance to human illness. Or so, she'd thought.

Her very lungs hurt, and they were heavily congested. Sara was so cold her teeth chattered, despite the warmth of the vehicle. The hot air made her congestion worse, so she reached out and cut it off. Left with a choice between the painful coughing or being too cold, the cold seemed like the lesser of the two evils.

She was alone in the vehicle. Lifting her head to look over the dashboard, Sarah stared at the ice  around her in shock. She knew they were in California, but nothing was as she expected. Nothing.

The SUV was parked on a cobblestoned driveway, right in front of the doorway of a very impressive home. It was huge, easily two or three stories high. Made of brick, it fairly screamed of the wealth of its owner. Sara knew instinctively this was their destination.

In the distance was the ocean, but it wasn't as she expected to see it. Reeling in shock, she leaned back weakly. Beyond the rugged rocks and coastline, the ocean was frozen solid.

The end was coming faster than any of them had expected, and it was more horrifying than she could have ever believed. None of them knew what the future held. Only one knew, and for reasons of his own, he wasn't sharing. There was one thing Sara could be certain of, though. It was only going to get worse.  

Ian's face appeared in the window next to her, startling Sara so badly she began to cough. It wasn't pretty, the deep, hacking coughs harsh and painful. Pulling the door open, he scooped her up.

Ian didn't bother closing it as he turned and walked to the steps. Someone had recently salted and shoveled the sidewalk, but there were still large patches of thick ice and snow.  Her coughing easing, she rasped out, “Put me down, it's dangerous to carry me.”