The Bound Angel (Sacrilege Rising: Book 1)

Chapter Twenty

Mike felt out of place among the sea of open laptops, slack faces, and pitter patter of typing. He already had enough trouble paying attention, and the distraction of a laptop wouldn’t help. If he was going to spend the time doomscrolling, he might as well stay home. Even though it made him feel like a dinosaur, being present in class with a pencil and paper made it easier to focus. Usually.

Today he would have welcomed such distractions, because today being present meant sitting next to the girl with the heart tattoo. He didn’t even know her name, but the tattoo on her lower back was burned into his mind.

Why did she have to sit right next to him? There were plenty of open seats. One of the unwritten rules of college was to leave empty space between you and people you didn’t know. The rule applied to urinals in the bathroom, eating in the cafeteria, and countless other situations. It ranked high on the list, just below wearing deodorant and just above respecting your roommate’s sleep schedule. If that sanctity was broken, what was next? Talking in the library during finals week? Taking someone else’s food from the communal kitchen?

Sitting this close, everything about Heart-Tattoo was distracting. The sweater hanging loosely off one shoulder. The way her shorts rode low on her hips. Bleached blonde hair tied up and styled and just messy enough to look like an accident. She even smelled nice, like citrus, somewhere between lemon and orange.

Each time she crossed her legs, it drew his attention back to the miles of smooth skin within reach, and she’d been crossing and uncrossing them constantly. This last time, her foot bumped against his leg, and she flashed an apologetic smile. She had a great smile.

The professor’s voice drew his attention back to the topic of using research methods to develop marketing strategies. Just saying those words in his head made him yawn. There had to be an interesting angle to all this, the professors just had to figure it out. Didn’t they know how bored everyone was? Didn’t they care? Couldn’t they try, just a little, to spice things up? Then again, there was only so much spice a fifty-something bald man could bring.

Movement from the side caught Mike’s attention at the same time Heart-Tattoo’s elbow bumped into his, sending a jagged black line streaking across his page. He started to ask what the hell she was doing, but the complaint died on his lips when he realized she’d just taken off her sweater. It was forgotten completely when she silently mouthed, ‘Sorry.’

He even forgot what she was apologizing for. He was simply trying not to gape. The tank top under the sweater was cut low on top, short on the bottom, and was tight enough to cling. The trifecta of sexy clothes, and Mike’s head wasn’t the only one that turned.

Keeping his eyes off all the skin suddenly living in his peripheral vision took real effort, but he was determined. The stages of the marketing research process slowly, painfully, came to life on his page in black graphite.

‘Three. Analyze Data. Organize and interpret…’

Blonde hair twirled around a raised finger in the corner of his eye.

‘Four. Interpret Results. Draw conclusions from…’

She shifted in her seat, placed both hands on her lower back, and arched. The stretch pushed her chest out and pulled the bottom of the tank top even further up her toned belly.

‘Five. Present Findings. Communicate the research…’

She stretched again, but twisted this time. First toward him, showing off a deep valley of tan cleavage, then away, until the stars around the heart tattoo were twinkling at him. Back pain was probably common when you were built like she was, and he decided she should stretch as often as possible. For her health.

This continued until his willpower was worn away, inch by inch. Each time she moved, his gaze lingered for a second longer, taking in more skin and more curves until he was pushing against the boundary of what was already less than appropriate. He couldn’t help but notice how soft her cleavage looked, how the skin on her chest pebbled under his gaze, how she didn’t pull her tank top down after it rode up from her stretching.

The professor’s voice said, “…will be expected to work in pairs on this project, culminating with a presentation of your results.” It barely registered. Mike’s attention was entirely on his neighbor’s clinging tank top and everything it didn’t cover.

She said, “That looks hard.”

It took a second for her words to penetrate. Then he wisely asked, “What?”

She tried again. “Do you want to do the project with me? It looks really hard. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Um,” he met her gaze while his brain tried to catch up. Did he want to work with her? How many ways were there to say yes? But getting involved with another girl in any way right now was not a good idea. In fact, it was the worst possible idea, as much as his inner caveman tried to argue otherwise.

A few months ago he would have jumped at the chance to work with Heart-Tattoo. But things were different now. He had, not exactly a girlfriend, but friends who were girls that wanted to sleep with him. Several. Three, to be precise. Or maybe two. Emma was hard to read. But it was all he could handle, and adding a fourth would have been like setting a match to a pile of newspapers. Everything would burn.

Plus, the thought that Heart-Tattoo could so casually become just ‘a fourth’ made him queasy. He didn’t even know her name.

“Let me get back to you. Mike, by the way.” It was the best he could manage without being rude.

He held out his hand like an awkward teenager at the end of a first date. But she took it, and there was a tingle the instant their eyes met and hands touched. He suddenly felt alive, like his whole life had been shot in black and white until this exact moment when it bloomed with color. Impressions unfolded in the air between them.

Heat, like a furnace, making you drip with sweat. The need to get away from here and now and dive headlong into whatever came next. Moans tearing from your throat. Gasps of surprise. The taste of sweat-slick skin. Hands gripping and pulling and squeezing, holding pressing pushing taking owning.

Mike pulled back before he got carried away, leaving Heart-Tattoo looking as flustered as he felt. When their eyes met again, hers were different. It was more than mere desire. Hunger, ambition, longing for a bliss glimpsed in a fleeting moment.

Mike carelessly threw his stuff in his bag and staggered away before it turned into something more. His willpower was fraying. How much longer could it hold out? The phone vibrating in his pocket jarred his brain loose like an alarm clock in the middle of a dream. Allie was calling. He let it go. They needed space, and after what just happened with Heart-Tattoo he didn’t think he could say no again just now.

When he looked up, she was there.

Mike froze. She was just standing there, like she had nowhere else to be while the world hustled around her. And around her was the correct term, because she was given a wide berth.

It wasn’t Allie, or Meredith, or Emma, or even Heart-Tattoo. Liliana was waiting outside class.

She leaned casually against the wall with her arms crossed under her chest. At first glance, she could have been any of the thousands of students with a class in the building. But nobody glanced just once, and after a second, it was clear she didn’t belong.

Heads turned as the crowd flowed. Everyone, literally every single person that looked her way did a double take. Some stared blatantly while others tried to be more subtle. One guy didn’t notice the person in front of him had already stopped to gape and bowled him over. It was like watching a car accident unfold while a woman in a sports bra jogged by.

She was looking at him, and Mike realized he hadn’t moved. His fight or flight response couldn’t make up its mind while a third ‘F’ option was banging on the door.

A simple black tee shirt hugged her body and stretched over her chest. Tight black pants, highlighting every perfect curve from ass to ankle, were causing traffic jams. A leather jacket made her look like a well-adjusted adult among a sea of gawking children, and powder-blue heels matched her frosty eyes.

He’d seen her in more revealing clothes. Much more revealing. And he’d seen her in all her terrible, supernatural glory. That aspect was a hurricane of unstoppable force, a mind-flaying black hole of sensation. Now she was dressed down, and there was nothing supernatural here. No writhing shadows or metaphysical seduction. No whispered words to set his soul ablaze.

Her appearance was like when a regular girl wore sweats around the house without makeup, hair tied up, and glasses instead of contacts. Except, dressed-down Liliana was still so jaw-droppingly, heart-achingly gorgeous, that people were tripping over themselves to get a second look.

If he ran, these people would be doomed. If he made a scene, everyone would just think he was crazy. If he fought, well, he’d seen her in action. That wasn’t a real option. The crowd was beginning to thin while his feet remained glued to the floor. Liliana hadn’t moved either. She just watched and waited to see how he would react.

Mike made a decision. Fake it till you make it.

His mind made up, he put his head down and started toward lunch. Liliana fell into step beside him.

“I know what you are doing, Michael.” Her soothing purr would have relaxed his nerves if it had come from anyone else. “It is not a good idea.”

He answered, “Well I’m glad you do, because I don’t have a clue.”

Though the crowd was filtering out the doors, the background noise of side conversations and general commotion was still noticeable. People looked their way, men and women alike. The attention made Mike squirm, but his companion hardly seemed to notice.

“Holding yourself back like this will have consequences. As your arousal grows, those around you will feel it spilling over. Any with a modicum of mutual attraction will swell with reflected desire.”

He was having a hard time paying attention to what she was saying. Her voice was stirring something within him, and he started sneaking his own share of sidelong glances as they walked. Something was off. She was moving weirdly, favoring one side, and her hand kept drifting to her stomach.

“Are you okay?”

She ignored him. “The companions you have already lain with will suffer the most.”

That certainly explained some things. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“I cannot lie to you, master.” His eyes flicked to the black collar around her throat. With the rest of the outfit, it looked like a simple choker necklace.

“Then how do I know this is really what they want, and not just your brainwashing?”

“We have been through this, Michael.” Irritation crept into her voice, and he was suddenly wary. “There is no brainwashing, no overt subjugation of free will. I cannot make anyone do anything they would not otherwise have considered. It is merely an illumination of a path they may have missed.”

They stepped out of the building, and the city came to life around them. It was easy to forget where he was sometimes. He’d lived in Baltimore his whole life, and was familiar with everything from road names and street signs to its smells and sounds. The constant hum of construction; the smell of spicy crab cakes as they walked past a stand; the sound of squealing brakes, and a hundred others. The city had an indescribable energy, like it had a life of its own, but when he was in class he was in another world. All it took was one step onto familiar pavement to feel like he was home again. Students milling in hallways were replaced by neighbors sitting on their porches. The smell of new textbooks was ousted by the faint hint of gasoline and asphalt in the fresh air.

They passed by a group of kids, seven or eight years old, playing on the sidewalk with a red dodgeball. They were taking turns lifting it over their heads and slamming it down into the pavement, sending the ball sailing in a high arc where the others jostled with raised arms. Several adults chatted nearby.

Was it a mistake bringing her here? Was he leading a fox into the henhouse? He looked around for an empty side street and continued their conversation. “It sure seemed like more than an illumination at that warehouse.”

Liliana hesitated. “Over the years, I have learned various methods of persuasion. Sometimes it is necessary to loosen the mind from overbearing constraints. But the restrictions on my power are absolute.”

Someone screamed.

It all happened so fast. Mike turned to see the red dodgeball bouncing into the street with a little girl chasing after it, brown pigtails fluttering behind her. A dark sedan was hurtling down the street going way too fast, and the next few seconds unfolded in his mind in an instant.

Breaks squealing. The panicked face on the driver through the windshield as he tried to swerve. A solid thud. A small body in the street, lifeless, like a puppet with cut strings. A mother sobbing. The distant wail of sirens.

Except there was no thud. A black blur moved at his side. A second later, Liliana was helping the girl back to the sidewalk as the sedan swerved past with screaming breaks. The ball bounced off the front bumper and launched into the air.

It happened as quickly as a startled breath. When he looked back, the girl’s mother had scooped her up in her arms, whispering soft words of thanks over and over. The look on her face said she understood how close she’d come to losing everything. With a smile and a nod, Liliana took her place next to Mike like nothing had happened. His brain slowed to a crawl.

“You are surprised.” She didn’t phrase it as a question.

“I, well, yeah. A little. You know, the whole demon thing. No offense. Fire and brimstone and all that.”

Liliana eyed him. “As is always the case when one judges without context, truth is more complex than perception.”

There were obvious layers beneath that statement. He asked, “Do you want to explain?”

She hesitated. “I can try. If you compel me, I will tell you all you wish to know. But as you already know, certain knowledge is not meant for mortals.”

There was always a catch. Mike sighed. “Maybe another time.”

Liliana continued anyway. Slowly. “Some of what you believe is true. Some, less so. The lion’s share, you do not have the framework to grasp. My kind are interested in souls, Michael. But not just any souls. They must have a particular…” she paused, searching for the word, “stain. The leftover residue of terrible sin. You may believe you know this already, but nuance is as important as it is subtle. We do not punish the wicked out of bloodlust, or rage, or a desire to see the world burn. Just the opposite, in fact. The best way to protect the innocent is to remove the guilty.”

Mike narrowed his eyes. “You make it sound like you’re doing everyone a favor. There are a hundred stories of punishments in hell, or purgatory, or whatever, that are worse than death. Curses, disease, famine. Sodom and Gomorrah. The guy who pushes the boulder up the hill. Religion is full of horrible stuff. Either the stories are made up, or you’re not as benevolent as you think you are. Or you’re just lying.”

Liliana rolled her eyes. “I did not say my kind are entirely altruistic. Some take more pleasure from our responsibility than others. And the greater the sin, the worse the punishment.”

“Then how is that any better than the angels?” She looked surprised at his question, so he continued. “I heard you speaking with one that night at the church. Doesn’t the Bible teach forgiveness and turning the other cheek and all that? Isn’t that better than having your guts eaten out by a bird every day?”

Liliana scoffed. “Better for whom? Heaven’s champions are cowards, all. Afraid to do what is right, thus allowing corruption to fester. Do you think the parent of a murdered child would wish for the killer to be given a second chance? What if he kills again? Whose hands would the next victim’s blood stain?”

Mike didn’t have a good answer for that. It was jarring hearing angels described as cowards. But before he could come up with a reply, they arrived at the dining hall. Liliana stopped short.

“Aren’t you coming in?”

She considered for a moment while thoughts turned behind her eyes. “Not today.” She turned to face him, and his heart skipped a beat. This close, she was overwhelming, even with all that came with it. He suddenly wanted to push her up against the wall and kiss her, consequences be damned. She gave him a knowing look. “Remember my words, Michael. This thing you are doing is a mistake. You cannot hold it in forever.”