The Bound Angel (Sacrilege Rising: Book 1)

Chapter Twenty Four

Lana considered what he said. Then she groaned. It was a disgusted, sickened exhale, like she had a mouthful of spoiled yogurt. Mike couldn’t stop laughing. It wasn’t just his chest either, his whole body shaking.

“I don’t,” he started to say before it overtook him, and he had to try again. “I don’t think you get it.” His stomach was starting to hurt and he was quickly running out of breath. “A fish with no eyes.” He found a fleeting second of relief and filled his lungs. The sweet taste of oxygen renewed him. “Is called a fsshhhh.” Saying it out loud triggered the chain reaction again, and he dissolved into incoherence.

Lana tried to lean away, but he held her close. “I understand the joke. It is not funny.”

Mike shook his head and waved a hand. She clearly didn’t get it. “No, see, when you spell the word fish-”

“I have heard enough.”

This time when she pulled away she fought his hands off and went to the kitchen. Whatever. She couldn’t be expected to understand good humor. She wasn’t even human. Anyway, after the intense night before with Allie, it just felt good to laugh. He took a moment to think about how much his life was changing.

Meredith or Allie was over almost every night. After they left, he would practice breaking the bond with Lana into the early morning hours, leaving little time for anything else. Like sleep. After several weeks of the same routine, he should be comatose. Instead, each morning he woke up with energy and focus, like he’d just had the best night’s sleep of his life. It must be Lana’s influence. And, without fail, sometime around the middle of the day, he would start sliding down a slippery slope. That was her influence too.

The first sight of a pretty girl would trigger a winding tailspin. Sometimes it was the blonde down the hall going on her morning run, and her tight athletic gear. Or the cute brunette that worked at the bakery on the corner, long sleeves of tattoos visible around her flower-dusted apron. Even if the blonde left early or he skipped his morning bagel, the minute Mike stepped onto campus, surrounded by sundresses, he would start spiraling.

By the time classes were finished, his mind would be deep in the gutter. He would find himself openly staring at bare legs and hints of cleavage. Inch by inch, his willpower was worn down. That was when things would really start to get weird. Just as he was about to chastise himself for ogling the hot redhead in Consumer Behavior, he would notice she was staring back hungrily. Or when he would catch himself imagining what it would feel like to bend the girl at the coffee shop over the counter, he’d find her phone number circled by a heart on his receipt. It was a million little looks and smiles and gestures that added up to something more.

He’d been told he was a good-looking guy. It wasn’t like he was never approached by girls, but this wasn’t normal. That much was clear. He couldn’t stop thinking about sex, and once he stumbled, the descent was steep.

That was when he would message Allie or Meredith. Or, just as often, they would message him. It was like the moment the switch flipped from harmless imagination to real need was the same moment one of them would text him. He thought about bringing it up to Lana, but she would probably just tell him he was worrying too much again.

The microwave beeped, bringing him back to the present. Lana returned from the kitchen with a steaming bag of popcorn and two bottles of soda. She loved junk food. “What’s next?” she asked.

They’d had a practice session earlier. It was one of their most grueling to date. She kept trying to get him to relax and open his mind, but with failure after failure it was hard not to get frustrated. Frustration led to annoyance, resentment, guilt, and that would put an end to their session. By now it was a familiar cycle. Lana would then insist they watch something on TV to unwind. It was becoming a nightly ritual. So a good laugh was just what he needed.

“We could finish the movie from last night,” Mike suggested.

“The one with the spaceship named after an insect?”

He nodded.

“The show is better.”

He couldn’t argue with that. She took her place next to him on the couch, under the shared blanket, and tilted the popcorn bag in his direction. As they sat shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, he was thankful she hadn’t brought up the other night, when she’d opened the door to something more between them.

As gorgeous as she was, he needed a relationship that wasn’t all about sex. His eyes settled on the armor resting on the floor nearby. It was pocked with dents and craters. A long gouge furrowed from shoulder to hip, but the gold still gleamed in the light.

“How are… things, out there?” he asked. They hadn’t spoken of Lana’s expeditions since that first night she went hunting. She was out almost every day now.

“Well enough,” she answered simply.

She clearly didn’t want to talk about it. It was a sensitive subject, and one she couldn’t tell him much about, but he was curious. “What does that mean?”

Lana paused for a long moment, before sighing, “There is progress. Each night, I send servants of the Abyss back to where they came from. But there are just so many. Everywhere I go,” she inhaled, “I can smell them. The enemy. They crawl through the city like roaches and multiply like rats. For every demon I defeat, two more take its place.”

Lana had always projected fierce confidence. In the face of Mike’s guilt, her limitless faith kept him grounded. She kept him thinking everything would be okay. But now, for the first time since she was injured at the church all those nights ago, she sounded weary.

He said, “This shouldn’t all fall on you. There must be others out there who can help. Can’t you ask, what did you call them? The host, or something?”

“I find I am unable to make contact. And even if I could, there are not as many of His warriors as you would believe. That night at the church was a significant blow. It is rare for any of His guardians to fall, let alone more than one in a single night, in a single city.”

Every time Mike thought back to that night he was flooded by sights and sounds. Hooded figures slithering in the shadows. The blinding, golden light of the angels. Metal ringing against metal. Smoke in the air. Sour milk in the back of his throat. An angel lying face down, pin-cushioned with wavy daggers. Fire rolling across the ceiling.

But above all else, the woman in black. So darkly beautiful. So dangerously thrilling. When Mike thought of her, his body reacted with terror and aching desire in equal measure. He either wanted to run screaming or join her in a den of hedonism and indulgence.

“Do you think she’s still out there?” he asked.

“Who?”

He swallowed before answering, “The woman in black.”

Lana considered the question. “If she is, she is likely hiding somewhere, licking her wounds.”

He shook his head. Best not to think too hard about her. “But you still think you can win?”

She turned to face him then. Her blue eyes that reminded him of the first day of spring suddenly looked unsure.

“I cannot lie to you, Michael.” She fingered the collar around her neck. “I… do not know.”

Her words stuck with him like a thorn in his side. Cannot lie. She didn’t say will not or should not. Another image from that night came to mind. Lana, holding the blinding crystal orb in her outstretched palm, reciting a litany of commands meant to bind the Dark Lady. “Compel her to speak truth to her jailer.” Her voice was high and clear in his mind. He glanced at her neck and the single continuous black band adorned with a silver loop.

What was he doing? Sitting here like they were on a date? Enjoying each other’s company like lifelong friends too scared to take it to the next level? Lana was an angel. Inhuman. Not of this world. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, she belonged somewhere else. She deserved better.

And the demons. Just thinking of the creatures climbing out of that portal made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. It had been so long, how many were in the city now? His friends were here. His family was here. What if one of them got caught up in this?

Lana was watching him. “What is it?”

“Come on,” Mike answered, taking the popcorn and setting it on the table. “Let’s try again.”

***

And so it went. Morning after promising morning. Night after intense, complicated night. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Sometime later, Mike was in bed kneeling behind Meredith. He was appreciating the way her back was arched, running his hands over light muscle and creamy skin to a pair of matching dimples. Then her ass. It filled his hands perfectly. He stopped thrusting for a moment to squeeze, watching the round flesh dimple under his fingers. But the urgency in his core wouldn’t be ignored. He gripped her hips and resumed pounding.

Meredith was reaching between her legs to where they were joined, searching for her own satisfaction, when his phone buzzed on the end table. In a moment of selfishness, Mike picked it up. It was Emma.

“Hey. Haven’t seen you in a bit. Fancy a bite at McLaren’s?”

He resolved to ask Lana again about how the women in his life were acting. Something wasn’t adding up. The cloud over his thoughts was getting darker by the day, and it was getting hard to keep it together when the girls were practically begging to be used. That thought, and the lack of discomfort over it, sent an icy chill up his spine.

It would just have to wait until he was finished with Meredith, and then lunch with Emma. He texted back that he would be free soon. Then he set the phone down and reached forward to cup Meredith’s breasts as his release approached.