Pledge of Ashes Read online

  Once met, like a force of nature, she couldn’t look away from his hard, cold eyes. The electricity in the air thickened again, making breathing a full-time job.

  A vision of Devon, this man she didn’t know and sure as hell didn’t like, filled her mind to the brim. In her bed, on top of her. Shit. In the vision, Jack stood behind them, warm eyes turned hot as he watched. An unintentional moan passed her lips, while thought and speech left her, and her brain played out the vision. She was a passenger and, yeah, a part of her—the starved, isolated part—had absolutely no desire for the ride to stop.

  Engulfed, the vision of Devon and Jack shut out any other thoughts. Devon easily supported his large body, arms corded with muscle, moving with the skill and grace of a man who puts his own satisfaction second. Over Devon’s shoulder, she watched Jack stalk forward, stripping off his shirt, clearly ready to join the party.

  Oh. My. God.

  This was pure pleasure, unhurried, luxurious. Debilitating in its sensory completeness.

  It was a lie.

  And it was seriously out of character for her to play out her personal porno upon meeting a couple pretty faces. And bodies. Whatever. Breathe.

  With focused effort, Syd imagined herself taking the vision, crumpling it up into a wad and throwing it away. All at once, the beat of electronic music and the bar’s odor of sweat and alcohol came back, reality punching her hard. She sucked in a breath, her hand coming to her stomach.

  Devon’s eyes narrowed. Lines, the only imperfection in his face, appeared by his lips as they tightened.

  Shaking and unable to help it, Syd stepped up to Jack, her neck craning back. “I’m leaving. You wanna stop me? You’re going to have to get physical.”

  Jack put up his hands. “I wouldn’t hurt— Look, can we just talk?”

  Talk? Seriously? “Not a chance.” Syd searched the dance floor, needing to find Nina and get the hell out of here.

  Devon leaned against the bar, his tone amused. “White Knight crisis. What happens when your assigned damsel doesn’t want to be saved? Do they cover that in Chivalry 101, J?”

  Up close and as near to his personal space as Syd could be without crossing into dangerous territory, Jack’s body tensed with a barely-heeled rage. “Shut up, Devon. You’re making this more difficult. Ei servient mi engel-wird—”

  Devon snarled from behind her. “Shut the hell up, bruder.”

  She’d have to be stupid not to take a step back from the expression on Jack’s face, but that would put her closer to Devon. And after that fantasy—that qualified as a horrible idea. Syd could sense him, like Devon was inside her head, a piece of her own body she was moving around. An itch she had no idea how to ease. She reinforced her mental wall, bricked it over and slammed it into place. The feeling receded, but now she couldn’t sense Devon at all. And of all the weird things happening, Devon was the larger threat. No question.

  “Move.” Syd drew out the word, meeting Jack’s eyes.

  He captured the bridge of his nose with his fingers and stepped aside.

  Not taking a moment to understand the change of heart, Syd pushed past him, toward the dance floor and Nina. One quick glance back, though, and Syd met Devon’s cold eyes. Her body revolted, a tingling traveling bone deep. She needed to get The Dive in her rearview, but first she had to find Nina.

  Chapter Three

  Devon smiled as his brother stalked forward. Jack stopped inches from his face. Man, it was fantastic to see getting a rise out of his twin was still Devon’s personal gift.

  Devon stood and closed the remaining distance between them, so close he could smell mint on his brother’s breath. “Step off, J. Or we throw down in the middle of all these humans. You know I’ve got no problems with that. But maybe you do.”

  The bar patrons danced and writhed all around, compounding the tension thick between them.

  With a growl, Jack pulled away.

  Satisfied, Devon sat back down and took a healthy swallow of whiskey.

  “Why did you have to be such an ass to her?” Jack demanded, gesturing the way Syd had fled.

  “Why’d you have to break out the twin language?” Devon retorted. He drew in a breath, remembering he was the one who needed to do the pissing off. Jack getting under his skin wasn’t on tonight’s menu. Devon shrugged, forcing his shoulders to relax. “Besides, being an ass is kinda my thing.”

  “The language was ours, something only between us. I was reminding you of your promise.” Jack rubbed his eyes with his hand.

  Devon laughed drily. “Long broken. What does it matter?”

  Jack dropped his hand and stared at his brother. “It matters. Will always matter.”

  “Tell you what.” Devon set down his drink and spread his hands wide. “Free shot.”

  “I’m not hitting you.” But Jack’s tone begged to differ. He wanted to. Of course he did. Violence was a hallmark of their fucked up brotherly love.

  “Go ahead, J.” Devon smiled wider. “Take the shot. You’re wound tighter than a psych ward full of paranoids.”

  Jack was damn near quivering and then he let it fly, that beefy fist coming full speed ahead.

  Devon didn’t even blink. The impact snapped his head around. No lying, it took a second for the room-spinning to stop. Getting cold-cocked by a big sonofabitch like his brother was not on his bucket list, but Devon needed Jack off guard. He needed to figure out why the hell his brother was here in the first place. Invited or not, Jack would feel bad about the punch in five minutes or less. It was written somewhere in the White Knight Code of Ethics.

  “This may be a personal best, inciting you to violence in under ten minutes.” Devon massaged his jaw.

  Jack snorted. “You’re deliberately goading the woman we’re supposed to protect. You deserve it.”

  “We?” Devon schooled his face back to his default disinterest. “Thought you had vowed never to work with me.” Devon folded his arms and exaggerated a pouting face, which pulled at the site of fist-impact. “Ever again.”

  Jack opened his mouth, but his voice didn’t cooperate. He tried again. “The Captain decreed it.”

  Devon dropped his agitated-child pose and narrowed his eyes. “You and your boy-band buddy Rafael on the outs? Why would he force you to work with me again?”

  This made no sense. And it made Devon suspicious.

  Jack looked away. “I don’t question orders.”

  Devon chuckled. “Bet you’d rather be shackled and beaten than stuck here with me. I’ve always told you that dick doesn’t give a damn about any of his soldiers. He’s in it for himself, nobody else.”

  “Show some respect.” Jack sank onto a barstool, eyes looking out over the crowd.

  No doubt his brother was keeping tabs on Syd. She was why they were both here.

  Much as Devon hated to admit it, verbally torturing Jack wasn’t giving him the satisfaction it normally did. Perhaps he was out of practice at annoying the shit out of his twin. In Devon’s defense, it had been one hundred eighty years since they’d seen each other. A long time, no question, but not nearly long enough to forget the bloody circumstances of their last meet. Or everything that had happened after.

  Jack’s shoulders slumped, and his eyes lacked shine. There had to be something serious in the works, an all-else-fails type of gig.

  “So, the Archangel pulled you out of your ridiculously extended bereavement to work with me. Why bother?” Devon thrummed his fingers against the bar. “Protect one human woman? I got this.”

  They both knew how capable Devon was. And of what he was capable.

  Jack cracked his knuckles. “I was told to protect her at any cost.”

  “Yeah, that didn’t answer my question, baby bro. Why would Rafael assign us both?” Talk about overkill. Devon didn’t want to consider the fact his boss thought he needed a chaperone. But it would follow. Dev and the Archangel Rafael had—what would Dr. Phil would say? Trust issues.

  Jack’s jaw clenched tight,
his voice monotone. “I don’t question orders.”

  Broken. Record. Damn, his brother was a predictable son of a bitch.

  The bartender returned with Syd’s shot of chilled Jager.

  Devon lifted the Jager with a smile. “Here’s to someone trying to kill Syd. Provide us good entertainment and, if we’re lucky, bloody carnage.” He poured the liquor down his throat and dropped the shot glass back to the bar with a grimace. “God, that shit’s disgusting. Gotta teach that woman some better drinking habits.”

  Jack gripped the bar tight, like he needed the grounding. “We’re supposed to protect her, not wish her ill.”

  That holier-than-thou attitude was nails on a fucking chalkboard. Always had been.

  Devon gestured around the bar. “Protect her from what, exactly? You see any hellish creatures that need killing? Maybe the two most qualified soldiers in the Archangel’s army need to protect her from a guy copping a feel on the dance floor? It’s bullshit, J. Why her, why is she worth protecting?”

  Jack’s face tightened.

  Devon took his time drawing in a breath. “Ah, I see.”

  Why should it surprise him the Archangel Rafael was playing favorites and keeping secrets? And Jack would always be the favorite. Had to be the whole ‘moral code’ thing. Devon never could commit to one.

  Fine. Devon could play connect-the-dots himself. He’d never met a human able to resist his compulsion like Syd had. Hell, even he’d been pretty into that hot fantasy he’d implanted in Syd’s beautiful, stubborn head. Was more than a little disappointed when she’d broken it. Disappointed and surprised. Devon had the ability to see through anyone’s eyes. His angelically gifted powers weren’t at all like Jack’s, all muscle and warrior-skills. But Devon had the art of mind control down like Einstein understood E=mc2.

  “You keeping an eye on her?” Jack rested his forearms on the bar, staring straight ahead.

  “Not until you tell me what you know.”

  Jack lifted his head and glared at Devon. “I won’t allow you to compromise the mission.”

  Devon met the gaze, didn’t flinch. “Me? I’m fully invested in living life. That means protecting her, which I will do, to the best of my considerable abilities.” Devon poured more Gentleman Jack and lifted his tumbler, swished the liquid around. “You, on the other hand. If anyone’s the weak link here, J, it’s you. You’ve been out of the game a long time.”

  Jack turned away, but not before irritation and anger cleaved into something Devon had absolutely no desire to see. Some would say it was soul-deep grief. Devon called it weakness.

  Devon chuckled. “Why don’t you go find Syd? Tell her she now has a pair of super powered babysitters for some unknown reason. Try that. Let me know how it works out for you. If you hadn’t noticed, Syd doesn’t fit your damsel profile. She’s strong.”

  Syd’s face floated through his mind. Her emerald eyes masked something behind them. And since she’d kicked him out of her head, he didn’t know what. Curiosity was a novelty for someone like him. Whatever she hid, it would drive Devon toward her until he could solve it. Puzzles needed to be solved. Solved and discarded to move on to more difficult puzzles. It had been a long, long time since he’d come across a puzzle, much less one he couldn’t solve.

  Jack rubbed at his eyes. “You have a better idea?”

  Devon tapped his fingers against the bar. In his mind, he was playing Chopin on his favorite baby grand. “I already pitched it to her.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Ménage, bro.” Devon shrugged. “Keep her with us, alive, unaware, and very, very satisfied.”

  “What?” Jack breathed, his eyes going wide in shock. “You didn’t—”

  “Put a fantasy in her head of the three of us? Actually, yeah, I did. Don’t worry, I had the starring role.” Devon smiled. “She seemed into it for a minute—”

  “You are…unbelievable.” Jack’s face twisted into a disgusted grimace. “It’s all a game to you. What happens when a demon shows up?”

  Devon chuckled. “You’ve never fought a demon naked?”

  Jack stood. “I’m going to find her.”

  Unconcerned, Devon gestured with the fifth of whiskey. “Go with God.”

  Jack punched open the door to the bar’s restroom, one hinge crying out at the abuse. The door banged off chipped tile, but the sound was lost to the throbbing bass. Or it would’ve, had he been any other bar patron. Humans couldn’t hear like he could.

  Jack massaged his temple and tried to steady the pounding in his chest.

  God, Devon hadn’t changed a bit in nearly two centuries. Scratch that, Devon was worse than he’d ever been. Coming here had been a mistake. Devon oozed egomaniacal, arrogant, reckless—

  Pull it together.

  Letting his hand drag down his features, Jack heaved out a breath.

  He’d done thousands of tasks for the Archangel Rafael over the centuries, been the model after which all other Guardian soldiers were molded. The pressure of leaving, of breaking that mold had been gut-wrenching. Nothing, though, compared to the pain of losing her. Elaine.

  Devon had one thing right. Jack wouldn’t be here at all if Rafael hadn’t strong-armed him. For the last ten years, the Archangel had let Jack mourn, seclude himself in the cabin he’d built for her, and bury himself in the grief of her loss.

  Let this be a quick one, he prayed. The prayer was more out of habit than from expecting an answer. It had been a long time since God had answered a damn thing Jack had to say. And, yeah, he served faithfully in the Guardian army, but Jack deserved no special treatment. There were far better people than he who went with prayers unanswered.

  Gathering his resolve, Jack pulled open the bathroom door and reentered the throbbing mass of half-drunk humans. Scanning the display of flesh, unease crept into the muscles of his shoulders. Syd was nowhere to be seen.

  He had to keep her safe, complete this assignment. That’s all he had to do. Then he’d never have to see Devon again. Rafael had promised him that, and so much more.

  Just this one time.

  One last time.

  Chapter Four

  Three steps onto the dance floor, remnants of spilled drinks coated Syd’s boots. The jostling of people dancing with abandon made her jumpy, and she looked around to try to anticipate who would knock into her next. Syd didn’t go out of her way to be touched, but when her mental wall was in place, she was level; she could fake normal all day long. When she felt in control, yeah, it was fine, but tonight she didn’t feel at all in control. Despite the crowding heat of bodies on the dance floor, she shivered in her leather jacket.

  The fantasy of Devon and Jack flooded her mind again, and her feet stopped, like she couldn’t walk and hold onto that visual simultaneously. Holy hell, what had that been about? Her little excursion with Bryce should’ve nixed the physical connection urge, at least for a while.

  A beefy hand grabbed at her shoulder. The heavy scent of alcohol whiffed past her ear with the words. “Hey, let’s dance.”

  Syd whipped around, afraid it might be Devon or Jack. Night-dark skin with warm brown eyes. Detroit was a divided city, notoriously so, but you’d never know it here. Piercings and body ink seemed to be the glue holding the clientele together, regardless of skin tone.

  “I’m looking for my friend, pretty blonde…”

  “Nina?”

  Syd nodded, not surprised lots of people knew Nina. Nina was gregarious and pixie-cute. Why Nina had gone out of her way to try to befriend her was beyond Syd. But a part of her was grateful, even if the night had already turned disaster-worthy.

  He nodded good-naturedly and pointed a finger behind Syd. “Love that girl. She’s over there, dancing her ass off.” He studied her with interest. “You a friend of hers?”

  “Too early to tell,” Syd half-yelled over the bass.

  She shimmied her way through the dancers and stepped in front of Nina. “Hey, that was too weird, right—”
r />   “Syd! So glad you could make it!” Nina hugged her and pulled back. Her smile faltered. “What’s wrong?”

  Syd opened her mouth to respond, but all that came out was a confused ‘meh.’

  “Don’t just stand there, girl, dance!” Nina bumped her hips with the guy next to her.

  “That guy, Devon, he was not—”

  Nina cupped a hand to her ear. “Devon? Who’s that?” She glanced around. “I don’t know him.”

  Syd stopped, but the dance floor was all movement, and she became disoriented. Had she imagined the whole thing? Turning, she caught sight of Devon’s espresso-dark hair right where she’d left him at the bar and knew she hadn’t. But somehow, Nina seemed to not remember meeting Jack and Devon. How the hell was that possible? Answer: it wasn’t.

  Syd hedged. “Don’t you want to leave? Those guys were—” She didn’t have the right word.

  Nina stopped dancing, and her lips pulled down. “What guys?” She pointed back to the group of four dancing around her. “These guys? They’re harmless. Don’t you remember them from high school? Zoe and Lucy are here, too.”

  Syd reached up and grabbed her neck in a moment of frustration.

  “Hey, don’t worry.” Nina’s face lit up, and she winked conspiratorially. “If you need to blow off some steam, Bryce said he might show up tonight. Seemed interested when I mentioned you might be here.”

  Seriously? Did the universe truly hate her that much?

  Syd gave a weak smile. “Are you cool with these guys? I think…I think I’m going to go home.”

  “I’m fine.” Nina searched Syd’s face, and she stopped any pretext of dancing. The fun and party leaked out of her expression, replaced with concern. “Are you okay? This was supposed to finally be our opportunity to hang out.”

  Syd forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m…just not feeling well.” She turned to go, but Nina grabbed her hand. The skin-to-skin contact caused a pulse of heat to travel up Syd’s arm. Her mental wall slipped. Flashes of Nina’s life pinged through Syd’s skull, but before the images could grab hold, she pulled away and reinforced her mental wall.