Her Guardian Angel Read online

  “The female is enamoured with you. You are to use that to gain her trust.”

  Marcus’s heart raced, anger curling through his body as he looked at all three men seated before him and searched each of their faces for a sign that this was some sort of sick joke. Their expressions remained cold and fixed, hard as they stared back at him. He reined in his outrage and stifled it, unwilling to allow it to control him and give away how much he despised the thought of what they were asking of him let alone the reality of it.

  He had no desire to be false with Amelia or hurt her, and they were ordering him to do just that.

  “Why is having her trust so important?” he bit out the words and then clamped his jaw shut before he could add that it was despicable of them to do such a thing to a mortal. He had no love for the mortals himself but he had principles. He was an angel, born into a race created to protect humans, not deceive them and lead them into sinning. That was the job of those in the service of the Devil.

  “Silence, Marcus.”

  He glared at his superior, barely restraining his fury and desire to argue. Using Amelia’s feelings in such a way went against everything he stood for, all of his principles and his honour, and was callous and cruel. He had no desire to hurt her.

  “Follow your orders.”

  Marcus went to speak but the light engulfed him again. When it faded, he was standing outside the café where he had shared coffee with Amelia.

  He tilted his head back and frowned at the colourful evening sky. They had returned him to the exact moment in time that they had taken him. Why? It wasn’t like them.

  He looked down at himself and noted that he was dressed now, wearing a dark blue shirt and dark jeans with his boots. It was a little smarter than his usual attire and it was his true appearance, not a glamour they had cast upon him. They had even neatened his hair for him, combing the unruly black lengths back out of his face. Why? They had to be up to something.

  The answer became apparent when Amelia walked past him, heavy white plastic grocery bags hanging from her arms.

  They certainly weren’t wasting any time. They had dressed him up and sent him back to the moment they had taken him so he could seduce Amelia tonight.

  Marcus shook his head. He couldn’t do such a thing and he doubted she would go for it even if he tried. His actions the other day had driven her away and she hadn’t even looked at him the two times they had passed each other today.

  Although, he suspected that her reason for ignoring him just now was because she literally hadn’t seen him.

  He waved at another passerby, his hand close to their face, and they didn’t even flinch.

  When the person had passed him and there were no others in sight, he lifted the glamour that made him invisible to mortal eyes and hurried towards the entrance to his apartment building, determined to reach it before Amelia stepped into the lift. The dull silver lift doors were closing just as he stepped into the foyer and he raced for them.

  “Hold it,” he hollered and was surprised when the doors opened again and he stepped inside to find that Amelia was alone.

  Had she known it was him and that was why she had held the doors, or hadn’t she realised? He pinched the bridge of his nose. A man could go crazy trying to figure out the inner workings of the female mind. It was little wonder he had never bothered to try before now.

  The journey up to their floor passed in uncomfortable silence and it was only when they were stepping out of the lift that inspiration struck Marcus.

  He couldn’t disobey his orders to gain her trust but that didn’t mean he had to play the cad and seduce her. He would try the friendship thing again and hopefully this time he wouldn’t mess it up. Rather than using her attraction towards him, he would do something he had never done. He would lower his guard and let her in instead, and gain her trust that way, as a man would, not a devil. No deception.

  Marcus reminded himself that he was already deceiving her. She had no idea what he really was and why he had been living next door to her for a month now.

  “Amelia,” he said and she stopped at her door and turned to face him. Her beauty arrested his steps and his breath, chasing away some of his anger. He hesitated and then walked over to her, broadcasting as much confidence as he could manage given the unfamiliar situation. “I apologise about yesterday. Can I make it up to you somehow?”

  She smiled. “Dinner would be good.”

  Like a date? That didn’t sound good at all. That sounded like what his superior had ordered him to do. Marcus squirmed for a few seconds, battling the part of him that said it wouldn’t be so bad to seduce her. She was beautiful and he was finding it increasingly difficult to get dancing Amelia out of his head and his dreams.

  “How about dinner at my place?” he said without thinking and the way her face lit up was all the answer he needed. It had been impulsive but it had avoided taking her out to dinner and therefore any sense that this was more than platonic.

  He frowned.

  Or had he only made it sound more like an offer of sex?

  Dinner in his apartment could easily be classified as more intimate than dinner in a restaurant.

  “Great. I’ll be over in half an hour.” With that, she opened the door to her apartment and closed it behind her, leaving him standing in the cream hallway trying to figure out what he had offered her.

  Perhaps he should call for assistance. He knew one angel in London. Einar was fallen thanks to his forbidden relationship with a female half-demon but that very fact only meant that he was qualified to answer Marcus’s questions.

  Marcus opened the door to his own apartment with the intent of calling Einar and interrogating him about women and whether he had just offered something a touch more intimate than anticipated but halted halfway to the telephone. The apartment was a mess.

  He had never really paid much attention to his living quarters but it certainly didn’t look like the sort of place a man should invite a woman into. He swapped calling Einar for a quick sweep of his apartment, using his supernatural speed to toss all dirty clothes into the laundry basket in his bathroom, straighten furniture, and clear the dust away before Amelia knocked on his door. If there was any time left on the clock, he would phone his friend for advice, but it wasn’t looking promising. The bathroom was a mess too and so was the kitchen, and she was likely to visit both of those places.

  Dinner in a restaurant suddenly looked more appealing.

  Marcus stopped dead in the middle of the kitchen, turned on his heel, and gingerly opened the white refrigerator. The only thing in it was some old cheese he hadn’t particularly enjoyed the taste of and a half eaten melon that had seen better days. There was no need to inspect the dark wooden cupboards. He could definitely recall eating the remaining half a box of cereal this morning whilst thinking and the carton was still on his bedside table to prove it.

  Someone knocked on the door.

  Marcus spun to face the kitchen doorway and looked through it to the entertainment centre in the living room. He glared at the clock on his DVD player. Amelia was ten minutes early. He cursed. No time to correct the food problem or call Einar. He scanned the pale apartment en route to the door and, satisfied that it now appeared far less like the bachelor pad it was, opened it.

  His greeting fled his lips the moment he set eyes on her.

  She had changed out of the short jacket, t-shirt and jeans she had been wearing in the lift and into a rather alluring little dark red dress that had him clearing his throat and searching for a compliment.

  “You look…” What would she like to hear? The expectant shine to her eyes and the tentative smile curving the corners of her glossy cherry lips said that she was hoping to hear beautiful or similar, and he would be a liar if he said anything less. “Stunning.”

  Stunning was apt. He certainly felt as though she had clobbered him.

  “You don’t look half bad yourself.” She smiled and he went to follow suit but then she held up a bot
tle in front of her and he froze. “I only had rosé. I know it’s a bit girly but it would’ve been rude to bring nothing.”

  He hadn’t really taken in anything she had said whilst he had been staring at his nemesis.

  Alcohol.

  Of course she would bring alcohol. It was the right response to the situation, wasn’t it? A man invited her to dinner in his apartment. She brought something to make the evening go without a hitch.

  He forced a smile and reached out to take it, but she drew it back to her chest, clutching it there and eyeing him closely.

  “That’s not a good smile. I’ve seen that smile before,” she said with a small frown and looked down at the bottle. “It’s really all I had but then I guess you’re probably a beer drinker.”

  “No.” He snatched the bottle from her, accidentally brushing her cleavage at the same time. Could someone in Heaven reverse the past thirty minutes for him and give him a second chance in which not to make a complete idiot of himself?

  The blush on Amelia’s cheeks and the way she was staring at her breasts said it all. He had practically groped her. Considering he had wanted this evening to be little more than just opening up to her and gaining her trust through friendship, he was certainly sending out the wrong sort of signals. Were his superiors in Heaven tampering with him or something? He didn’t feel at all like himself and he was currently on course for gaining her trust the way they wanted.

  Still, the feel of her soft breasts beneath his fingers in that flash of a caress had his heart racing and palms sweating. He was a stranger to physical intimacy but had witnessed enough carnal matters as a watcher to know the sordid things humans did. It hadn’t interested him much in the past, but the more he focused on his hand and the area that had brushed her chest and on how beautiful Amelia looked tonight, the more appealing interacting with her physically became.

  Cad.

  The object of tonight’s mission wasn’t seduction. It was forming the foundations of friendship.

  She stared at him, making him heavily aware that he should have said something to explain his reaction rather than drifting off into a fantasy world.

  “The wine you have brought is not the problem... and it is most appreciated... but... I just don’t really drink.” He shrugged and hoped she would let it go and not pursue the subject. He wasn’t sure what he would say if she asked him why he didn’t drink. Could he play the role of recovering alcoholic? Would that dampen Amelia’s desire for him?

  Marcus wasn’t sure whether that would be a good thing or a bad thing.

  “Oh.” Her eyebrows rose, bringing her head up with them, and he wished she would stop looking at him in a way that left him feeling emasculated. She nodded a few times and then said, “So you don’t drink coffee and you avoid alcohol. Are you one of those vegan types too?”

  “Hell no.” He stepped back, horrified at the suggestion. He could eat a whole cow in one sitting when on Earth. In Heaven, he didn’t have to eat at all, but that certainly didn’t place him in the vegan category. There was nothing wrong with abstaining from certain substances that didn’t agree with your lifestyle choice, but this wasn’t one of those times and he would be happy to prove it to her.

  Amelia closed the door behind her and walked into his apartment, casting her gaze over everything and then him, and he felt the challenge in her look. She was trying to figure him out and he didn’t particularly like the tone of her expression.

  In a fit of desire to prove himself a man, he strode into the kitchen, unscrewed the cap on the wine and set it down on the counter. Another flaw in his plan produced itself as he searched the dark wooden cupboards for wine glasses but he overcame it by using two short tumblers instead. If anything, rosé wine could only look more manly in such a glass, surely?

  He poured two healthy glasses of wine as Amelia approached the open double doors and then held one out to her. She took it without questioning his choice of glass and then raised it towards him.

  “Cheers,” she said in a low sexy voice that had his gaze drifting towards her lips so he could watch her drink and then added, “Cheers?”

  Marcus realised he was supposed to respond in kind, so raised his glass too. “Cheers.”

  “Or bottoms up.” Amelia giggled, turned and walked back into the living room.

  Bottoms up.

  Marcus’s eyes dropped to her backside. The deep red material of her dress clung to it, emphasising the shape of her bottom in a way that had his blood pounding through his temples again. He took a deep breath and joined her in the living room. Amelia sipped her drink. Marcus stared at his.

  Alcohol hadn’t passed his lips in five centuries, not since the one and only time he had dared to drink it and had awoken with a demonic curse scrawled on his back. Back then, it had been a forbidden item. Now, any angel could drink it without castigation.

  Marcus had no desire to do such a thing.

  He took another deep breath and blew it out, trying to psych himself up. He could feel Amelia’s gaze on him and he hoped she didn’t think he was spacing out again or had noticed his fear of what might happened when he finally took a sip of the wine. Blood whooshed through his ears, drowning out all sound as he stared at the innocent looking pink liquid in the glass. Alcohol released inhibitions. It would be a good way of lowering his guard so he could grow closer to Amelia and gain her trust.

  Marcus lifted it to his lips and breathed in, catching the fiery hint of alcohol in its scent, and then continued. The moment it passed his lips, a shiver raced down his spine and along his arms, and heat followed it down his throat.

  The effect was instantaneous. He had spent the whole day thinking over his mission and had ignored his body’s cries for nourishment, leaving him ravenous and his stomach empty. The wine rocketed straight to his head, sending it spinning, and a second sip only made the situation worse, lessening his control over his body.

  His eyes widened in alarm when his wings pushed for freedom and he concentrated hard in an attempt to contain them and stop them from tearing through his navy shirt.

  “I’ll be just a minute.” He rushed into the bathroom, slammed the door, and turned to face the white vanity unit and the large rectangular mirror above it on the wall.

  Marcus set his glass down and fumbled with it, almost knocking his wine down the sink, and then turned the cold tap on so fast that he had to dash to his right to avoid the spray of water that bounced off the porcelain, threatening to douse his crotch. With a grimace, he turned the tap down to a steady flow and splashed the water on his face. His wings pushed again and he ached with the desire to strip off his shirt and unleash them for a moment, to surrender to his desire to beat them and shed his mortal appearance.

  He couldn’t.

  Not only could Amelia end up seeing them, ruining any chance of gaining her trust, but he might not want to put them away again. He couldn’t spend the whole evening in the bathroom.

  His stomach growled and he pressed his damp hand against it.

  If tonight was going to be anything near to a success, he needed to eat and soon, but there was nothing in his apartment. He had promised Amelia dinner. Even if she was kind enough to offer her own groceries, he wouldn’t know how to cook her anything. He had never used a stove for anything other than warming basic foodstuffs, such as soup and other items that came in neat little cans with clear instructions on the labels.

  This whole plan was ridiculously flawed.

  His head turned again and he reached for his wine, taking a greedy gulp of it in the hope that it would dull his senses enough that his wings would relent and he would forget his desire to fly off somewhere.

  With Amelia.

  That was a thought.

  He looked into the mirror at the reflection of the white door behind him. Water dripped from the tip of his nose and rolled off his jaw. His heavy breathing filled the silence.

  How would a human react to the sight of his wings and the knowledge that angels existed? If sh
e knew what he was, he wouldn’t be deceiving her and there was a chance that he could convince her that his reason for being here was to protect her. Would that gain her trust?

  He laughed at himself.

  Any sane mortal would run a mile if they saw an angel.

  She would never trust him.

  “Are you feeling alright?” The sound of her voice, soft through the door, roused a different sort of hunger in him. He stared at the door, picturing her on the other side, how concerned she would look and how that caring edge to her expression would only add to her beauty.

  If forced, could he seduce her?

  Could it be called deception if he wanted her too?

  It wasn’t going to happen.

  Marcus dried his face on a hand towel, opened the door and smiled at her. “Never better.”

  She gave him a hesitant and unconvinced smile in return, and looked past him at the bathroom, her eyebrows raised high. What was she looking for? It dawned on him that she thought the wine had made him sick. He could laugh at that. The one time he had turned to drink, it had taken close to a barrel of mead to render him unconscious, and even then he hadn’t thrown up.

  He picked up his glass of wine, sipped it again to prove that he could handle it, and then smiled at her. Crimson spread across her cheeks, a delightful rosy tint that his smile had caused, and she held her own glass up, revealing that it was already empty.

  Marcus took it from her and went into the kitchen to top it up. He took another swig from his own glass to give himself a little Dutch courage and then filled it too. When he walked back into the living room, Amelia was perched on the arm of his pale couch, her slender legs crossed at the knee, smiling at him. A different urge struck him, one that would definitely give her the impression that he was out to seduce her should she notice the effect it had on him.

  He handed her the glass and stood in a way that wouldn’t reveal the growing bulge in his jeans, waiting for it to pass.