21 Shades of Night, page 410
I bite my tongue, determined to come off as the bigger person. “I’m sorry to hear—”
He raises his hand, flashing his palm at me. “Spare me the pity party.” He turns back to his cabinet and, with a rough tug, manages to pull open his filing cabinet. He retrieves a sheet of paper and, from where I’m standing, I can’t see what it’s for. Leaning over his desk, Cole plucks a long, black pen from a cup that reads ‘I hate Mondays… and Tuesdays and Wednesdays and Thursdays.’
I try to contain my relief as he scribbles his signature three times over different designated sections on the page.
“Here’s your clearance.” He slides the paper toward me, along the smooth wood of the desk. “Give me your gun and get the hell out of my office.”
With a quick nod, I take my gun from the holster at the back of my catsuit and place it on his desk. Without hesitation, I grab the sheet of paper and flee from his office as quickly as I can.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving and I’m stuck here. Fml, right?”
I glance over my shoulder at Janet who followed me from his office. “Fml?”
“Fuck my life…you’ve never heard it?”
Oh, thank God I am getting out of here. I should have known it was an abbreviation for something ridiculous. “Right. Anyway, I need to see Tom as soon as possible. When is the next available slot?”
I march toward the reception desk and Janet straightens her black pencil skirt before she slips into the chair behind the desk. I clench my clearance slip against my chest. I got the slip quicker than I expected and my next step is to book an appointment with Tom for teleportation. Tom is Earth’s resident Veltra angel, the only one we have at this headquarters. Veltra angels are the only ones who can teleport between the realms (which is super annoying) and with the amount of angels that arrive and leave every day, Tom is usually quite busy. I don’t mind waiting. After last night’s nausea inducing demonic teleportation I’m looking forward to doing it the “normal” way.
Janet taps her slender, manicured fingers against the keys on her keyboard and I wait (semi-patiently). Glancing around the room, I notice that they’ve put a new painting on the wall. If I recall the art classes I took in high school correctly, the piece is titled The Last Judgement by Michelangelo. It’s a replica, of course—the original is painted on the altar wall inside the Sistine Chapel. Still, it’s kind of creepy having a miniature version of it hanging in here.
“Tom is scheduled to teleport someone here within the next hour and you won’t have much time to catch him once he arrives. He’s set to return immediately to bring another.”
“Pencil me in. I’ll wait for him in the teleportation chamber.”
I turn on my heel and leave as she glances down at her white keyboard to type my name in. I don’t want to risk an awkward goodbye. Janet strikes me as the kind of person that says goodbye with hugs—probably kisses, too.
I tuck the permission paper under my arm and squeeze it tightly to my side. I’d hate to lose it. I head past Cole’s office and down the long, corridor toward the teleportation room. The HQ isn’t overly large, but it sure is intricate. There are so many doors I have to go through and security guards I have to show my form to before I even make it to the reception of the teleportation chambers, but when I do, tension leaves my shoulders.
Almost there.
“Name?” Gladys the receptionist asks, peering over the small gold glasses that perch on the bridge of her nose.
My nose twitches and I fight hard not to turn my nose up at the foul stench of her perfume. Perfume is a guess, of course. It’s the only logical explanation for the strange smell. I mean, there aren’t any cats here, so the chances of it being cat urine are slim to none. I swallow hard, taking a bitter taste down with it.
“Ashton, Violet.”
“Form?” Her thin purple lips match the short plum-colored curls that coil around her ears. On closer inspection, she’s very color coordinated… in every way. The small purple diamonds that hang on a short gold chain from her ear lobes glisten in the bright white light. As she glances downwards at her computer screen, I see a faint amount of purple eye shadow, barely noticeable behind her thick black eyelashes.
I hand her my form and with two loud thuds, she stamps it and hands it back to me.
“Tom should be here within the hour. Take a seat.” She hugs her mauve cardigan around her chest, making me conscious of the cold air in the room. For some reason, the air-conditioning is blasting, chilling me right to the bone. I sit down on one of the plastic chairs across from the reception desk and place my stamped form on the empty seat beside me. The room is grim, bare, and white from wall to wall. Oh, so quickly Gladys’s choice to wear so much color is something to be revered. The various shades of purple are the only semblance of color—of happiness—against the brutal onslaught of white.
Quite rapidly, I become bored. There are no books, no magazines, not even the white noise of a radio to keep me entertained while I wait for Tom.
I glance at Gladys. Maybe seeing her wings will be sufficient entertainment. I watch her for a few minutes, trying to remember how to see her ‘inner angel.’ If I recall correctly, all I have to do is focus. Jesus. When was the last time I was able to focus? I have no idea.
Surprisingly, after a few minutes of relentless staring and abusive inner dialogue, two big masses of energy emerge behind Gladys. Wow. I forgot how impressive seeing wings really are. Before my death, I imagined angels with big, bird like wings, but it’s not like that all. I mean, they’re wings that I can see with my own eyes, but they’re constantly moving…swirling and gyrating, moving the mass around in a beautiful dance. Miniscule green lines of aura zip through the mass, lining them like the veins in a body, making her area of expertise organization. All of our assistants, warehouse workers, and receptionists have the green veins. You’ll find that what you become in our society is determined by the color of the aura in your wings. These colors are grown and determined before you awaken in the Never Dark realm. Mine are red, making me a field angel. Blue is intellect—a color commonly found in the wings of our scientists, weapons development crew, and small time tinkerers. Purple is the rarest color. Only Veltra angels have the purple veins and out of the twenty thousand angels in our society, we only have one hundred travel angels.
Sighing, I let Gladys's impressive wings dissolve into nothing and I shift in my seat, trying to find a comfortable position. Naturally, there is plenty of room to move about, but nowhere to get comfortable which makes the wait ahead of me suddenly seems too long. Heaviness tugs on my eyelids and I struggle to keep them open. For what feels one hours I play the of war with my tiredness until I can't hold it back any longer. At some point, I give in and I take a nap on the chair.
* * *
I QUIVER AS he grazes his warm lips across my ribs and over my nipple. Catching it between his teeth, he tugs softly at my sensitive flesh before making his ascent to my ear lobe. He roams his hands over my body, exploring the rises and dips of my curves and I quiver, running my fingers through his short hair.
“Kiss me,” I whisper.
Pulling back, he smiles down at me. “Where?”
“On the mouth first,”
Lucas touches his lips to mine and a soft moan rumbles at the base of my throat. I keep my eyes open, for some reason, and even in the dim light I can make out the sun-kissed color of his skin and the incandescent pigments in his dark hair. Ending the kiss, he runs a soft, warm index finger down my cheek and traces my bottom lip. “And second?”
Electricity crackles between us, but I am so not finished kissing him. I grab a fistful of his hair and pull him back, crushing his mouth to mine. The feel of his lips, the wetness of his tongue, breathes life into me and lights my body up like a Christmas tree.
Lucas trails his kiss away from my mouth makes way down my throat. Swallowing hard, I close my eyes as a tsunami of tingles floods my entire body. They course through every single one of my veins and expose every nerve ending in my body. The feeling grows stronger as he moves over my breast and draws closer to my panty line.
“Lucas...” I open my eyes only to close them again and I fight against the urge to thrash against the sweet agony of his lips. He traces the tip of his index finger along the edge of my lacy underwear and plants soft kisses along the inside of my thighs. His eyes lock onto mine as he moves into a kneeling position and reaches for the hem of my underwear.
Catching my bottom lip between my teeth, I lift my hips slightly, allowing him to pull my panties off with ease. Smirking, he drops his gaze from mine down to my warm center. My heart pounds in my chest, harder than ever before.
“So beautiful,” Lucas murmurs, his fingertips grazing the skin of my thighs ever so gently...
“Violet?”
My eyes snap open and I straighten my posture.
“Ah,” I hiss, clenching the kink in my neck and swiping drool from the corner of my mouth. I swear I only shut my eyes for a second. I blink rapidly and, slowly, the sharp lines of the world return.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
I meet Tom’s smiling azure eyes and a hot flush rolls through me. How embarrassing.
“No, no.” I groan, running my hands over my face. “I’m the one that should be apologizing.”
Tom smiles warmly at me, exposing his perfect white teeth as he tips his head on a charming angle. “Late night?”
Oh, he has no idea. “You could say that.” I push myself to my feet and smooth my palms down my suit.
“It’s nice to see you relaxed for a change.”
“Relaxed?” I chuckle. “Try exhausted.”
I glance at Gladys, who types away on her computer, acting like Tom and I don’t exist.
“Come on, we should go,” Tom says, hugging his charcoal suit jacket tighter around him as he peers around the room. “Do you have any belongings?”
I do, but I leave them in a locker at HQ. “Just me.”
“Then let’s get out of here.”
He turns and I follow closely behind him as he leads me down a white corridor. Like always, I he escorts me through a boring maze of white walls before we finally reach room we’re going to use. From the back pocket of his dark slacks he pulls out a key card and swipes it through the tiny slit provided.
“You feeling all right, Violet?” Tom asks, stepping to the side so I can enter the room first.
“Me?” I feign confusion. No I’m not all right. There’s something sitting in the pit of my stomach, making me uneasy, and I can’t figure out what it is. “I’m fine, thank you,”
I step into the room and ignore him. I don’t know why the teleportation chambers are so out of the way. It’s merely an empty room. There’s no furniture, no windows.
Nothing.
“Remind me, do you get nauseous when teleporting?” he asks, producing a small, clear container of bright green pills from his chest pocket. How many times do I have to answer this question?
I shake my head. On my first trip to Earth, I’d had to take at least three pills to ease my stomach. It was horrible, but seeing Lucas teleport with little to no discomfort forced me to suck it up. It’s easy once you get used to it.
Shrugging, Tom pops two of the pills and tosses them into his mouth one by one.
“You get nauseous?” I ask curiously. It’s hard to believe teleporting makes a Veltra angel nauseous. It’s their only skill.
He chuckles and shakes his head. “No, I just like the taste.”
A straight lock of black hair falls into his face and he quickly slicks it back before extending his hand to me.
“Let’s get this over with,” I mutter, stepping forward.
The moment I slip my hand in his, the hard floor drops out from underneath me and weightlessness takes over. Weightlessness is the first phase of teleporting. My body vibrates, signaling phase two. I’m pulled in different directions, each of my limbs twisted and tugged until I explode into tiny particles—another strange sensation. I can’t see my physical self, but my consciousness is still aware of my body. I can’t explain it. The feeling alone is the weirdest, most exhilarating feeling in the world. It’s like I’m everything, but at the same time, I’m nothing. Visually, teleporting is amazing. To be honest, nothing make sense. Colors smash into each other, creating even more shades. It’s like I’m inside a kaleidoscope while someone twists it and the patterns begin to merge and change. It really was a blissful state. All worries are sucked out and you’re awed by the sheer extravagance of it all. It takes a few minutes before the tingling subsides and you feel like you’ve been ‘put back together’ again. Eventually, the weightlessness disappears and gravity takes hold, sending a dull ache shooting up my spine as it supports all my weight once again. I’m only one hundred and thirty-two pounds, so feeling the stress on my spine is unnerving. Slowly, the colors fade and reality sets in. I glance around the room and it’s...white.
Always white.
I pull my ponytail so it drapes over my shoulder and I can see it in the corner of my eye. It doesn’t do much to keep the unyielding white from suffocating me, but it makes it easier on the eyes.
Tom clears his throat, drawing my attention and places his hand over his mouth, making crackling noises. “Good morning, passengers, this is your pilot speaking. We have successfully arrived at the destination. We hope you enjoyed your flight and thank you for choosing Thomas airlines.” He lowers his hands and smiles, his eyes flaring delightedly.
I can’t help it. My lips pull up at the corners. “Really? You’re that guy now?”
He shrugs. “I like to see you smile,”
I tip my head to the side. Is he...flirting? Jesus. It has been so long I can’t tell anymore.
I quirk an eyebrow. “Since when?”
He crosses the room, sauntering lightly on his long legs, and his smile stretches into a grin. “Since always.” He opens the door. “After you.”
Dipping my head, I zip across the floor and out the door. The last thing I should be doing, the last thing I want to be doing, is encouraging a romantic relationship I have no interest in pursuing – not that Tom isn’t worthy, he is...it’s just...well, not Lucas.
As we exit the room, I think about my return and what it really means. I’m no longer on Earth and the thought alone brings immense comfort, but it’s not enough to shake the nerves that have been building up in my stomach since last night. How many angels will think I punked out and ran home with my tail between my legs? How many angels will think I couldn’t bring myself to kill Lucas because I’m still in love with him? I hate that I’m bothered by what everyone else may or may not be thinking. It doesn’t matter, I suppose. I’m just going to count my lucky stars. If I’d been caught almost bedding a demon, I’d be absolutely, one hundred percent screwed.
Dead.
Thankfully, killing Lucas is no longer my problem, but I still have to deal with the Council. They’ll want to know why the Four Horsemen are on Earth and why I didn’t kill Lucas when I convinced the Obss Angels I could. On Earth, Cole Nark is the biggest pain in my ass, but here...he is nothing compared to the mega-assholes that run the show. Cole has no real authority over me. He tries to assert his dominance from time to time, but I can set him straight whenever he pushes it. I can’t do that here. If you so much as talk out of turn to any of my superiors, they’ll kick your ass without hesitation and you’ll sit in “the hole” for a week. I’ve experienced it, both having my ass kicked by a superior and sitting in the hold, and it’s no fun at all. Unfortunately, being an angel comes with a long list of rules and obligations. You can’t become an angel and expect to run your own show. Every demon I kill and every decision I make should have someone’s approval. It isn’t unheard of for the Council to kill an angel if they continue to break the rules.
Tom and I step into the waiting area before the open lobby of Never Dark HQ. I all but groan as we’re met with white furniture and white walls once again. Kill me now.
“Tom!” We stop as a male angel calls his name.
Tom pauses for a moment before clicking his tongue in realization. He strides forward as the muscular angel rises to his feet and strides over to us, wearing his uniform with pride.
“Jared, hi,” Tom greets, extending his hand. “It’s good to see you.”
I eye the reception desk as they shake hands. The last thing I want to do is stand around and make new friends. To be honest, I just want to go to bed, catch up on my sleep, and deal with whatever I need to deal with tomorrow.
“Violet Ashton, right?” Jared asks, extending his hand to me. “I’m Jared Rees. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Jared Rees? The name clicks in my head. Of course. If I recall correctly, Lucas was instructed by the council to bring Jared back exactly one year after I was initiated. Lucas was there through his transition and spoke highly of him on occasion.
I place my hand in his and he clasps his fingers around mine. His hands are warm and big, but his grip is soft. Lucas once told me that you can tell a lot about a person from the initial hand shake. Judging solely by this handshake, I’d say Jared doesn’t take anything seriously. He seems big and scary with his broad shoulders, tan skin, and short buzz cut, but there’s a softness to his face. Maybe it’s the laugh lines around his eyes.
I take my hand back and place it on my hip. “Good or bad?”
Tom snickers. “Can I put money down on an answer?”
Playfully, I nudge him with my elbow. I’m not as bad as I used to be. I’ve really turned a new leaf since I lost Lucas. I’ve got my head screwed on straight, I follow orders, and I haven’t been summoned to the Council room in a long, long time. Didn’t he get the memo? I’m on the straight and narrow now.
“Good,” Jared’s smile falters, but he catches it before the corners of his mouth completely turn down. “mostly,”
