unmistakable: Leave me alone.
So he had. And afterward, he’d realized that Radha hadn’t been the woman who’d gotten away, but the one who should have never been his in the first place. Friends, yes. During those early years of training in Caelum, she’d been a companion he valued and trusted, until he’d given in to lust that he never should have felt. That had been the end. A friendship ruined, and Marc had never been certain whether he’d been blessed for simply having known her or cursed for having lost her.
But he’d done his best to put his feelings away after she’d put him aside, and Radha hadn’t spoken to him in almost a hundred and forty years.
Yet now she sought him? Not without reason—and that reason likely had nothing to do with him or one awkward sexual experience when he’d been an overeager virgin.
Spreading her wings, Radha stepped from the roof. She gently glided to his side and landed soundlessly. God, she hadn’t been this close to him in so long. He’d almost forgotten how small she was, the top of her head only reaching his shoulder, a waist small enough to span with his hands.
A thin gold chain circled her bare belly instead, with a ruby pendant filling her navel. More gold ringed her slim fingers, and the tip of her right forefinger was capped in a sharp gold claw.
Her gaze lifted to his. Flecks of gold lightened the brown of her eyes, outshining the rows of gold loops in her ears, the small diamond stud piercing her nose.
“Hello, Marc.”
“Radha.” Putting her aside had also taught him to put everything else away, to focus. “Has something happened?”
“To whom?”
“To anyone that would explain why you’re here. Do you have news from Caelum?”
Bad news, probably. It seemed that the only news from Caelum of late had been of that kind, beginning a little over a decade ago when thousands of Guardian warriors had chosen to ascend to the afterlife, leaving far too few of them left to fight demons. Half of the remaining Guardians had been killed by the bloodthirsty nosferatu, and a year later, one of their only remaining healers had been slain after a vampire betrayed another Guardian. To save them all—to save everyone on Earth—the most powerful Guardian, their leader, had sacrificed himself and had been trapped in Hell. There had been victories along the way, too, but nothing seemed to make up for the loss of so many . . . and the bad news just kept on coming.
The last time he’d seen Radha had been a week before, during a gathering in Caelum when they’d all finally seen the crumbling ruin the realm had become in their leader’s absence—temples shattered, every dome and spire nothing more than piles of marble rubble. Radha had stood on the opposite side of a broken courtyard, weeping as she’d taken in the devastation.
So different from the first time he’d ever seen her, in another courtyard in another part of the once-beautiful, shining city. Ten years after his transformation, he’d stumbled across a public orgy. The realm was all white marble and the Guardians were of every color—but Radha had been the only blue, and she’d been the first in the mass of bodies that he’d truly seen. Once he had, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. With a man’s head between her thighs and while kissing another woman’s belly, Radha had looked over and spotted Marc watching from the edge of the courtyard. Her gaze had met his, she’d smiled—and crooked her finger.
It had taken all of Marc’s strength to walk away. Though many Guardians pursue pleasure, that wasn’t a route he planned to take. He’d decided to become a celibate warrior, one of God’s chosen, as seemed to befit his transformation and honor the gift of life he’d been given.
So he’d left. He hadn’t expected that a curious Radha would follow him—or that she’d so easily accept that he didn’t want sex from her.
But he had. God, how he had. The following year was one of torment and bliss, spending hours of each day with a woman who fascinated him in every possible way, who’d quickly become closer to him than any friend he’d had as human or Guardian, and who he wanted so desperately. A year of constant trial, every moment a test, reminding himself that a Guardian who fought demons had to learn to resist temptation, and that a celibate warrior would never touch her.
Then he had. He’d failed the first test he’d given himself, and he’d paid for it with the end of their friendship.
He’d dedicated himself to his training after that, determined not to fail again. One hundred and forty years, he’d kept his eyes open, his mouth shut, and done his job.
But lately that hadn’t been enough, and it seemed as if the Guardians were on the losing side, as if everything was crumbling, ending. The week before, when he’d looked across the ruined courtyard and witnessed her tears and devastation, he’d wished things were different. He’d wished they were still friends enough that he could hold her, that he could say something to make her happy—because God knew, the way things were going, he might not have another chance.
Her friends Rosalia and Mariko had been there instead. Women who, in their own way, shone as brightly as Radha did.
She hadn’t needed him, so he’d remained where he was. It was easy enough. For a good portion of his life, he’d done nothing but stay in one place. He didn’t do it so much lately, but whenever he saw Radha, he seemed to recall the skill effortlessly.
“Oh, I see. You think that someone else has died or is trapped in Hell or that Caelum has been swallowed by the sea.” Smiling slightly, Radha shook her head. A darker blue than her skin, her lips glistened as if she’d slicked gloss over them. Nothing fragranced, of course. Nothing that might give her presence away to a demon, nothing that would give her an odor to conceal. “No one has been hurt, and nothing has happened. I am taking a holiday.”
Bullshit. “In southern Illinois?”
“Oh, you say that as if there is nothing to be done or seen here. You cannot convince me of that, not when this area has been part of your territory for five decades and you have been living here happily for all of it.”
Marc wouldn’t have said
Nothing at all like the beaches of Southeast Asia or the mountains of Nepal—or the cities in between.
“That is why I am here. It is not the same at all.” Her gaze swept the parking lot. “Look at them. Each with their own vehicle, well fed, clothed.”
“If you’re hoping to escape to a place without any poverty, it won’t be here.” And Riverbend was well off, compared to other nearby towns. No open sewers, maybe, but plenty of people were having a rough time.
And desperation of any sort made a demon’s job easier.
“That is not what I’m trying to say.” With a hint of censure in her voice, she looked to him again. “I have sensed more happiness from those living in slums than I do at this school. Why is that?”
Radha had been a Guardian longer than Marc had—and long enough to know very well why this town felt like this. Was she trying to deflect his questions about this vacation nonsense? He knew she wasn’t here for the demon.
“What’s going on, Radha? Are you in trouble?”
“If I was, would I need to come to you?”
No, and that was the damn point. He couldn’t figure out why she’d come. As a warrior with half a century more experience than Marc, her skills probably exceeded his. With her ability to create illusions, she possessed one of the most powerful Gifts of any Guardian. Marc’s own Gift allowed him to haul dirt and stone around, but unless she’d lost something in the mud, there was little he could do that she couldn’t do herself.
Not that he’d send her packing. “I hope you know that if you did come to me, I’d do whatever I could to help.”
Her lips flattened. She looked away from him before she replied, “Is that so? Thanks so much.”
Her doubt struck like a slap. What the hell? Marc stared at her profile, at the sudden rigidity of her posture. She truly didn’t know that? Didn’t
Did she think he harbored ill will toward her for leaving
