Shadow Fall

On the other was Luca, his expression equal parts worry and faith. They were beacons of purpose—one from his life, and one from his death—their thoughts willing the man to overcome the beast.

In Custo’s grip was Annabella, the axis of his existence, his name in her mind while her throat was silenced.

The three of them created a strange geometry, an Order beyond his complete comprehension. But without doubt or reservation, he knew it was an equation calculated to save his soul.

Like a searing bolt from the sky, love fractured him.

Custo and the wolf were two again, inhabiting the same cursed body, but this time Custo was ascendant. A second chance. His life had been ruled by bitterness and regret, by clear paths scorned for darkness; now he could make a different choice.

The beast in his head roared denial and frustration as Custo forced his joints to open and release Annabella; the storm above cracked in protest, but he was in charge now. For the moment at least.

The air took on the uncompromising solidity that resisted a change of course. Annabella was right: He’d died before; now he wanted to learn something new. He wanted to live.

She straightened slowly, her gaze wary, guarded, as she gulped the thick air. “Custo?”

Her chest heaved and her skin shone with a determined light, offset by the pressing darkness at her back. Though she trembled with weakness, she again put her hands against the throbbing wall of Shadow to keep it from touching him, from nurturing the wolf.

And good thing, too, because the beast had started to prowl in his mind, wildly hungry, primitive, immortally strong, searching for a human weakness to exploit. Custo knew there were a lot of them: anger, violence, sex…

A wolfish growl rumbled in his chest—Found one!—and Custo’s tainted, pounding blood raced toward his groin.

Skin so smooth. Body so tight.

Custo clenched his teeth. He blinked hard and dropped his gaze from sweet, brave Annabella to the hot pavement. No. Not going to happen.

Strip her. Lick her. Take her in the trees.

Custo’s vision burned, the concrete rippling with dark mist.

“Custo?” Annabella repeated.

Every time he’d tried to resist her before, he’d failed miserably. Every single time her best interests would be served by not touching her, his wants had overruled judgment. How long could he resist? He wasn’t stupid, not long at all.

Custo had to be fast. Had to be prepared for even greater personal darkness.

His mind’s eye turned inward; he could sense the hulk of the wolf within him, in the most obscure, twisted corner of his mind, slavering with hunger. There was no way to kill the beast and Custo knew he could not sustain this dual existence much longer. Eventually the wolf would control him as it had Abigail.

There could be only one mind, one will, that ruled this body.

And the beast was so damn hungry. Custo grasped on to that singular lust, stoked it higher, denying the rest.

He let the hunger of the wolf inundate him, felt the appetite commingle with his gathering intent. The wolf responded, crouching as if to spring and overtake his consciousness again. When the wolf leaped, Custo braced and with a great, inner gulp…consumed him.

Custo swallowed, the burn a fierce roar of agony that overwhelmed his senses, sharpening them to brutal clarity. He took in the wolf, forced him thrashing into his blood and bones and the sizzling snap of his nerves. He absorbed and digested the raw, animal power, the dark identity. Made it his own, while obliterating the wolf’s personality in his head.

The burn intensified, beyond pain to shock and wonder. Custo arched with the agony of it. His body was changing again, always changing. This second life would not let him rest. What he would become this time, he didn’t know. How much of himself would he lose? Would there be enough left to protect Annabella?

He threw back his head, reaching up with his Shadow-touched hands to part the threatening storm, and found the stars spinning in the black above. The sounds of the city blended with the whisper of voices, the chatter of faery voyeurs to his transformation. The scent of sweat and blood filled his nose, but what direction it came from he didn’t know.

He reeled, his sense of direction confused. This way Earth, that way Shadow, over there Heaven, and down this dark path, Hell. Which way to go? Who was he: wolf, man, angel, or all three? Where did he belong?

A thought reached him. It sounded like a prayer. Please be okay.

With a snap, the erratic swinging of his internal compass found north and the needle stilled, telling him true in this place of utter uncertainty. Annabella.

And then it didn’t matter what he was.

“Custo?” Annabella said. Her chin was up, shoulders square, hands fisted to fight.

Not if she could love him.

He put out a hand to calm her. She didn’t have a timid bone in her body, but he was different and ugly. He startled to find the claws had reverted to human fingernails, which was a good sign. His skin was slightly pale, still tinged by his mother’s olive, but his veins were a deep gray. Not so good.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said, trying to keep emotion from his voice. He pulled his hand back; suddenly he wasn’t so sure what the rest of himself looked like. “At least, I don’t think I will.”

There was only his own voice now in his head, but if the physical change signified anything, the power of the wolf was in him, was his, thrumming in his blood. The air snapped with static crispness, singing along his skin. So strange. Maybe Adam should lock him up for a time, just in case. He didn’t dare trust himself, especially with Anna-bella. Yes, much better to wait and see what—

With a flash of movement, Annabella’s arms went around his neck. She held herself in midair, her hot, soft lips pressed hard to his. Custo gasped, surprise bringing him to his knees while he clutched her from falling. She exhaled a hoarse laugh against his mouth at the jarring pavement, and…damn it, he had to kiss her back.

Trial by fire, then.

Custo parted her lips with his tongue to take the kiss deeper. Annabella answered by tightening her arms, a hand in his hair, gripping him close, and—have mercy—a little painfully. His body burned with the touch, her closeness, and a dark wave of lust swamped him. Darker, more primal than he’d ever known. Near wolfish. Her scent was stronger, muskier than he remembered. Her skin, smoother; her mouth wet. He needed her on the ground, beneath him, or on her knees, arching for the moon.

By the way her legs wrapped around his waist, she seemed in agreement.

A catcall from the other side of the city street brought dim awareness of his human audience. The street, the ruined buildings, the stink of fallen wraiths. It would not do for his Annabella, who now hid her face in his shoulder.

Custo. Luca’s voice invaded his mind. Are you all right?

Custo sighed heavily. If he could hear someone else’s thoughts, he was probably still an angel. Not his preference either, but he was getting used to it.

Luca would have to wait for an answer. Privacy, please.

By instinct, Custo reached for Shadow, and it obeyed like a curtain drawn on the world. Which meant he had a little wolfish fae in him as well. That’s the one he was most worried about.

One moment he and Annabella were Earthbound, the next transported, surrounded by ageless trees, the primeval layering of dirt, undergrowth, and heady, magic-filled boughs filling his nose. He sensed the interest of his faery observers, and banished them with his mind, too. This was for him and Annabella alone. This new Shadow-magic was going to be damn useful.

He cupped Annabella’s ass with his palms—perfection—and left it to her to hold on tight as he made for a tree trunk, a little leverage and support to strip and plunge and pump…

Wait. Custo pulled back and shuddered through a deep breath.

Not like that. She deserved gentleness. Soft strokes. A forever show of thank-you and love and how-did-I-