Fallen Embers (Fallen Guardians #9)

Chapter 37

Chapter

Thirty-Seven

Lore ushered Nia into the room where the chanting had taken place. Everyone still seemed shaken at how close they came to tragedy by having a flight of angels descend and attack them in their home.

He bypassed them and stopped near the couch.

“How is he?” Blaéz asked as Lore rested against the back, settling Nia between his thighs.

The warrior stood near the inner door, a glass of golden juice in his hand. He appeared a little pale, probably from using too much of his mind to kill.

“Much better than he initially was.” Lore slipped his arms around Nia’s waist. “A powerful angel appeared and sped up his healing.”

“We don’t trust those bastards!” Tyr growled, pressing a palm to the wide bandage taped to his abs where a sword had gored him.

“And Echo?” Kira asked, glancing their way as she tossed the bloodied gauze and cotton pads in a trash basket. “Michael sorta filled us in, but he’s back out there—” She nodded at the decimated grounds. “Just said Aethan will be fine. Someone he knew had shortened the healing months.”

“Yes, it’s true, and Echo’s much happier now,” Nia said, stroking Lore’s forearm with a fingertip. “Aethan’s conscious. I guess they just need some alone time after that scare.”

“Definitely,” Kira murmured, collecting the leftover bandages, salves, and potions.

Lore pressed his lips to Nia’s head, the loosened strands of her messy bun tickling his face. He took the moment of quiet, just holding her and breathing in her scent while the females continued to fuss over their injured mates.

He studied the band of warriors he was now a part of. Despite their brutal roasting of each other, a tight bond existed, as he’d witnessed with Aethan being so grievously injured. A similar connection grew between their mates, too.

Nik held a pregnant woman. That female’s name had something to do with gloom…darkness, no…Shadow? Yes, that.

“Thanks, man,” Nik called out, catching Lore’s stare as his mate cleaned the droplets of blood from his smirking face. “Didn’t think you’d actually kill your former brethren.”

Before Lore could answer, Nia twisted in his arms, eyes dark with worry. “You fought? Do you feel well enough to do that?”

He smoothed back the strands of hair framing her face. “I’m okay?—”

“Shit, I can’t believe we were losing the damn fight,” Tyr muttered, pulling on a fresh shirt and wincing a little. “What the fuck happened out there anyway? Where did that power surge come from?”

Nate, who stood on the terrace near the open door with his mate, turned at Tyr’s comment.

“Nate?” Nia called out.

He glanced back, then sighed. “Fine. Yo, Michael!” he yelled. “You wanna field these questions?”

Lore snorted.

Nate smirked. “He should. It was his doing. Besides, I’m still trying to get my brain on track after all the chanting.”

Ely frowned. “What?”

“Soon, laika ,” Nate said. “It’s a lot to take in, and Michael can get to it so much better.”

The archangel remained on the destroyed grounds, a lone figure under the moonlight. Some distance away, Race roamed the ruined land, his hair gleaming.

Michael called out something to him, then strode for the castle and entered the living room, urn in hand. Those shattered blues took everyone in with one sweep.

“What was with all the power shedding and the thrones vanishing?” Blaéz asked, sipping more of his juice.

Michael set the jar on the floor. “Once I realized what Nate was, after his final change and rebirth as a Watcher, then finding Rania and learning about her awakening abilities, my suspicions have paid off.”

“Well, shit,” Nate muttered. “Watcher? Should have known.”

Michael nudged the urn with his booted foot. “I always thought the rising psionics would be the ones to call the Celestial Realm to heel, but I was mistaken. It was the Trinity. As per the Watchers’ warning, that prophecy has come to pass.”

“What trinity are you talking about?” Tyr demanded, looking like he wanted to go back and slay all the thrones again. “What the hell happened?”

Lore waited for Michael’s disclosure. While he knew most of it, Michael seemed to be a fount of information on the Trinity prophecy.

He pressed his lips to Nia’s head. With adrenaline still coursing through him at an all-time high, his hunger for his mate grew, but he had to tamp down that need.

“I think,” Blaéz murmured, setting down his glass on a side table, his gaze shifting between Nate and Nia. “The Trinity are the three siblings?—”

“What?” Tyr narrowed his eyes.

Michael continued, “Their combined abilities, once released, helped trap all the powers of the thrones in here.” He nudged the clay urn with his booted foot. “And they were able to vanquish them back to the Celestial Realm. Even now, I still feel their shock. This ability to absorb powers belongs to the Watchers.”

Tyr snorted. “Well, I’ll be damned. Nah, fuck that. I’m not damned. But well done, Nate and Nia. Whoa, Arc—” He cut the archangel a taunting smirk. “You’ll have the pleasure of filling Aethan in on this again. Just make sure you’re a nice, safe distance away from him. That male goes ga-ga crazy when things like this affect his mate.”

Michael snorted. “I think I’ll be safe.”

And he will be, Nia’s smiling voice coasted through Lore’s mind. They’re having a baby. I’m going to be an aunt, and you, an uncle!

Her infectious teasing wrapped around him, stirring him harder. With his awakening powers, Lore felt like a volcano about to explode. He let his attention linger on her lips before trailing back up to her eyes, and her cheeks turned red. He wanted to claim her mouth, needed her badly?—

“The reason the seraph marked Rania for elimination…” Michael’s gaze met Lore’s, and his jaw clenched, wanting to kill Jehoel himself again. And Chamuel was definitely on his hit list if he ever set foot in this realm. “…was not only because she has the power to deplete a seraph of his powers, rendering him unconscious and killing him, but also because she was a crucial part of the Trinity.”

“They couldn’t get to me or Echo, so they went after her?” Nate’s expression morphed to stone.

“The asses,” Nia muttered, squeezing Lore’s forearm.

He covered her hand, calming her anger.

“Your wings regenerating,” Michael told Lore, “is the result of Rania giving you Jehoel’s powers.”

“But they sank into the ground when I tried to help Lore,” Nia said. “ Ohhh …” She pivoted to face him, eyes wide. “The night we returned from the cave, and you were hurting?”

He gave a slow nod.

“I smoothed salve on your wounds, and you said it felt better. At the same time, it felt like all the heaviness within me had vanished. It must have been the lingering power of the seraph remaining in me that flowed into you. I didn’t pay it any attention because everything was so overwhelming at the time.”

“I wasn’t the best recipient for receiving any powers in the cave,” he murmured, his gaze caressing her beautiful face, lingering on the light glinting on her tiny nose stud. “I thank you for that, habibti .”

Joy lit her face. “I’m so glad.”

“Good job in vanquishing all those thrones,” Michael said then. “Now, I will take my leave and give my caveat to the seraphs.”

“And what’s that?” Tyr demanded.

“I will unleash the last part of the deadly prophecy, slaying anyone who dares come after those under my protection again.”

“You imagine that will work?” Blaéz asked. “These are unemotional winged beings with only one mindset: to keep the Celestial Realm safe, present company excluded.”

Lore shrugged. He didn’t care.

Why did Marmaroth intervene with Aethan and Echo? he telepathed Michael.

The archangel lifted a shoulder in a barely perceptible shrug. Who knows? Marmaroth never does anything without reason. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

With that cryptic comment, Michael picked up the urn. “Tyr, you’re off duty until further notice.”

“It’s just a damn hole in my abs,” Tyr grumbled, gingerly rubbing a palm over his stomach.

“Honey, stop.” Kira moved his hand away. “You heard Michael. You’re resting.”

“Yes, listen to your mate,” the archangel drawled. “Angelic weapons caused those wounds. It will take a few days to heal. It brought Aethan down.”

“Now I wished I’d killed more of those mofos,” Tyr muttered.

“And I…” Race appeared in the doorway and grasped the doorjamb above his head, a pair of black cotton pants sliding low on his hips. “Didn’t even get to flambé any more of those delicious feathered beings.”

Lore snorted.

Race continued, “You’re all breathing. The Empyrean’s on the mend. I shall take my leave.”

“Stay,” Nik called out. “We haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Yeah, stay awhile, man,” Tyr added. “You actually made it to the door this time.”

Race flipped him the middle finger and disappeared in a flash.

Dagan appeared with an armful of angelic swords and daggers. “Race has never joined us in anything in the millennia we’ve lived here. You think he will now?” he asked, obviously having heard them while collecting the weapons. With a wry shake of his head, he vanished.

“You cannot force a creature of the wild into a cage,” Michael murmured.

Tyr grunted. “The bastard hates crowds like it’s the plague. I swear he’d likely ditch his mate if he ever found her. Hell, he is the last one standing. Yo, Blaéz, has your precog kicked in yet there?”

“That’s not how my foresight works,” Blaéz retorted. Then he smirked. “But there’s a storm brewing.”

Kira groaned. “Honey, leave the guy alone. We were all dying to meet him, and you scared him off. I mean, he’s a dragon . We barely caught a glimpse of him in action.”

“Oh, I saw him in his dragon form,” Darci piped up. “It was just before Blaéz and I got married. He stopped by to speak with Blaéz. No, he’s not interested in a mate or anything.”

Nia remained silent about their interaction with Race, which Lore appreciated. However, he could feel her laughter through their mate bond at his thoughts.

I still want to kill the dragon for seeing you naked beneath me.

More amusement drifted to him, and she patted his forearm.

“Right, then. Later.” The jar back under his arm, Michael departed in a scatter of silvery sparks.

Lore could almost taste his ire. Michael might rank below the seraphs in the hierarchy of the angels, but he was dangerous. Something they, in their sheer arrogance, dismissed.

A low conversation buzzed, and Nia turned to him. “As terrified as I was, today did turn out good enough in the end. And you, having your beautiful wings back.” A smile tipped her tempting mouth as she stroked his chest. “At least something useful came from Jehoel.”

“Thanks to you, but you did well. The three of you, your abilities can be terrifying when combined.”

“Yeah? Maybe it’s why I ended up with a nosebleed—I’m fine,” she added quickly when he frowned. “I think once my mind got caught in the throes of the prophecy’s chant, it consumed me. All I felt was power flowing through me. By the way, what was it we chanted?”

“It’s Enochian, the old language of the angels. Roughly translated, it means:

We are the revered Trinity.

Nothing will stop us, evade us.

We are pyre and rime, protectors of all that is.

What you sowed will unravel. And so, it shall be.”

Nia blinked. “Wow, that sounds kinda scary.”

“It is.”

Her gaze settled on his biceps. She pushed up his t-shirt sleeve and stroked the inked mystical Gaian sword there, her touch stirring him. “My badass angel has his first tattoo.”

He grunted and nuzzled her neck. “Come on, let’s get back to our quarters. I need a shower.” And I need you ? —

“What the fuck, Lore?” Tyr growled, dragging his attention. “You have the Gaian sword on your biceps—you’re a fucking Guardian , and you didn’t say?”

“Now you know.”

“Asshole,” he muttered, but there was no heat in his cursing.

“Come to the kitchen, y’all,” Kira called out. “I mean, once you finish pounding your chests and playing He-Man. Lore, awesome news that you’re a Guardian, too.” She hurried off, and some of the females followed her.

“Why can’t you be more like her?” Lore asked Tyr.

More laughter and some ribbing at Tyr followed. The warrior merely snorted.

“Nia, coming?” Ely called out.

“Yes.” She glanced at Lore. “I’ll see you when you’re done here with your fellow Guardians.” With a smile, she joined Ely, and they both left.

Lore had to fight the urge to call her back. They’d barely had any time together.

“Welcome to the dark side,” Blaéz said, dragging his attention away from the shut door.

He took in the warriors, his new brethren in arms. Already, he could sense the difference now that he was a part of the inner circle—a friendlier vibe, but still with the ribbing. He doubted they knew any other way to converse.

“And what a way to awaken,” Lore said.

“Loads of blood, guts, and gore,” Nik drawled. “Barely a dull day.”

True, but… “I meant with my mate next to me.”

The warriors chuckled.

It seemed he wasn’t any better than them with his dry retorts. “She is everything to me.”

“No one can fault you there,” Blaéz murmured.

“So, how did that happen?” Nik asked, leaning against the baby grand. “I know you fell from grace. How did you end up being a Guardian? Most Fallen don’t.”

“My fall didn’t go as planned.” Lore scratched his jaw, frowning at the stubble there. “The seraph wanted me dead for breaking a sacred law. He put a death touch on me before I fell. Somehow, I survived the fall, but I was dying…” He told them about Michael summoning Gaia, who gave him a chance at life if he swore his fealty as one of her Guardians.

“Yeah, she did so with us, too.” Nik nodded.

“So, Nate?” Blaéz called out to the male, who leaned against the doorjamb, watching them. “You going to join our ranks anytime soon?”

“Nope, still not interested. The garage is my calling. Of course, if Ely’s in danger, all bets are off.”

“Well, then, since Tyr and Aethan are off duty, are you coming on patrol with us for what remains of the night?” Blaéz turned his attention back to Lore.

“I’m still on leave. I’ve never had a day or any time off in my existence. I plan to take it.” He stalked out, and laughter erupted behind him.

“Hell, can’t blame him,” Nik said as the group followed. “I’d do the same.”

“You think Michael will keep the seraphs from attacking again?” Tyr asked. “I can’t see those bozos calmly letting things go.”

“Let them,” Lore muttered. “I’ll be waiting.”