Pure & Sinful (Pure Souls) - By Killian McRae Page 0,19
That’s Demon Dicing 101, honey.”
Rolling her eyes, she turned away. “Whatever. Fine, I guess it doesn’t really matter who gets the message as long as it’s gotten, right? So, what’s the sitch? Dark forces hitting up the zoo? Imps with chimps? Goblin gophers?”
Ramiel waved his hand reproachfully. “You make fighting evil sound like a Dr. Seuss adventure. Actually, we’d like you to infiltrate St. Cecilia’s High School. We have intel there’s a darkness there, but we’re having problems figuring out who the demon is: student, teacher, custodian — we don’t know.”
Having experienced parochial school, Riona’s suspicions went immediately to every nun who had ever glared at her across a desk. “Isn’t the Big Chief supposed to be omnipotent?” Riona crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.
“Big Chief? No, not so much. The guy currently handing out the orders isn’t really the big guy, you know. More of an acting manager. No, the one you’re referring to is more a silent partner. He provides the capital: the Earth and the heavens and air, then leaves it up to all of us smaller folk to pilot and ride.”
Slowly, she nodded, her mind trying to fit this new tidbit in her ever-expanding lexicon of cosmic truths. “Got it. St. Cecilia’s. We’ll get right on that.”
The damned messenger had the nerve to wink at her as he stood up. The sight of his frame, tall and muscular, and the mold upon which “male” was perfected, made her blush, despite the warning to herself that the attraction was merely physical.
“Keystone?”
“Huh?”
He slipped his hands into the pocket of his jeans and cocked his hip. “It’s never going to happen between us. You don’t need to get yourself all in a tizzy every time I’m near you.”
Not sure whether to act dismissive or insulted, Riona huffed sarcastically, “I’m not that bad looking that you need to rub it in my face, Ramiel. And who says I…”
He cut her off. “Don’t act like you don’t want me to take you right here, right now. You should know, it’s not your fault. All archangels can induce lust in almost all human females. And you, of course, are more receptive to the effects of our gifts than others.”
Riona, never one to feel like she’d been found out, continued to argue. “Despite that, it’s not like I’d actually go through with it.”
He shook his head and leaned in closely. “Funny, that’s what Mary said.”
She wasn’t sure if she should roll her eyes or laugh.
“But, seriously, that’s not what I mean. I’m not meant to be with you, and I wouldn’t want to shag you silly and ruin you for every lover who came afterwards,” he added. “I bet you’re beautiful when your body is exploding, too. You purr, don’t you? You look like a purr-er to me. Can’t deny, I’d like to hear that. I’m a little jealous of the one who’ll get to claim you.”
Heat filled her cheeks.
“A little.” He winked coquettishly as the edges of form began to blur. “Not too much. Don’t let it go to your head. Well, I guess that’s all I have to…”
“Ramiel, wait!”
He paused mid-port, and solidified for a moment. “Hmm?”
“You said… You said, ‘did you think you’d be able to endure it?’ What did you mean? Endure what?”
Angels could be so smug, and were experts at beaming like gremlins to let you know when you’d finally caught onto something. “You’re restless, Keystone. It’s because you’ve been away from Marc and Dee too long. You three are bonded now that you’ve assumed your rightful place amongst them. You can’t stay away for more than a day or so before you feel the drain of their absence. Separation will have a physical effect on you now. The longer you go, the worse it will be. You need them nearby.”
His angelic smile broadened. “And more importantly, they need you.”
Dee clicked his tongue but kept his eyes fixed on the magazine. “Just an email yesterday to tell me she gave up on getting the rest of Jerry out of her shirt. What’s up, Marc? You were never this concerned when Nicolai didn’t check in.”
The priest flinched, but didn’t vocalize. Unlike Riona, their last Keystone witch had never appeared in his dreams wearing nothing but the hood of a nun’s habit and a sheen of sweat.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Dee continued. “Probably still a bit off kilter is all. Your first demon explosion tends