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  “I was accused of being her lover. The man decided to… damage my face… in order to teach both myself and the female a lesson. I believe he sought to render me less attractive to her.”

  “So you struck him?”

  “I acted to defend myself and the female, as per my orders. I eliminated a threat to her.”

  “And do you concur that the female is attracted to you, as this man believed?”

  Marcus stared blankly at the three angels, mind working furiously back over tonight’s events as he tried to compute an answer to the question. Did he? Was she?

  Amelia had certainly looked upon him with desire darkening her grey eyes and those eyes had lingered on his bare torso more than once. She had been gentle with his hand and had blushed several times during their talk in the aftermath of the event. He had little experience of females and couldn’t easily conclude what her reaction had meant, but it had seemed positive.

  “I am not sure.” Marcus pushed the words out, his mouth and throat dry as he contemplated the answer he had wanted to say. Yes. Yes, the mortal did desire him. He wasn’t certain why, but the telltale signs had been there.

  “Then we shall not punish you.”

  Marcus frowned again. “Why not?”

  “Because we require that ‘pretty face’ of yours to remain attractive to the female in order to form a stronger bond between you.” There was a definite smirk in his superior’s tone although it didn’t touch his stony face. “You will return to Earth and continue with your mission as planned.”

  “When will my mission end?” Marcus wasn’t going to give up this time. Things were becoming critical on Earth and his desire to complete his duty there had increased a hundredfold tonight when he had been with Amelia, and a thousandfold just now when his superior had implied that Amelia was attracted to him and they would use that as a means of bringing them closer together. He needed to end this and return to Heaven. It was his heart’s desire.

  His heart denied that and an image of Amelia flickered across his mind, wearing a plum-coloured shimmering slip that inflamed his desire.

  He shoved the vision away and stared at his superior.

  “When will it end?” Marcus spat out and the sandy-haired man leaned back in his seat and regarded him with flinty eyes.

  “When you have completed it.”

  “What must I do to achieve that?”

  “Be patient. All will be revealed in time.”

  “Time,” Marcus snapped and gripped the white wooden railing that ran around the dock, digging his fingers into it so hard that his bruised knuckles burned fiercely. “It is always the same. I tire of this mission. I demand to know when it will end!”

  His superior shot to his feet and the air in the room grew heavy, draining the light from it and leaving it grey.

  “It will end when you have completed it! This is your duty, Marcus, and you will obey my orders.”

  Marcus clenched his teeth and lowered his gaze, staring at his hands where they trembled against the railing, a visible sign of the pressure bearing down on his body. The hot thick air in the room stuck in his throat and stole the breath from his lungs, leaving him wheezing.

  His mind turned foggy, thoughts swimming in and out of focus, and he blinked several times, fighting for consciousness. His heavy limbs shook, bones aching as darkness descended on him, the power of his superior too intense to withstand.

  A moment later it lifted, the room brightening as it faded away, and Marcus sucked in much needed air as the strain on him eased. His body continued to tremble and he clung fiercely to the railing to remain standing as his legs threatened to give out.

  Marcus cursed under his breath. He shouldn’t have lost his calm. He had never snapped like this before but the pressure of living in the mortal realm, of having to endure being so close to Amelia, was getting to him. He had been waiting over thirty years for this mission to end and they had always given him the same answer to his questions. It was his duty. He had to obey.

  His loyalty was to Heaven, born of faith and his belief that they knew what the future held and what each of his master’s servants were destined to do, but when they withheld information from him, when they shut him in the dark and expected him to blindly obey their orders without question, he found his faith wavering. He only wanted answers.

  He had tried countless times and in countless different ways but each time they told him the same thing. His duty was to watch over Amelia until a certain point in time. They had never expanded on the nature of his mission or given him any other details. Each time they brought him back to Heaven, they asked the same questions and gave him the same answers.

  It wasn’t necessary for him to know such information.

  It was only necessary for him to obey their orders.

  So he obeyed, and every time he left them, he hated his mission a little more.

  His shoulder blades tingled where his wings joined them. Amelia had seen the marks there. He hated them too. If it wasn’t for them, he wouldn’t be in this situation. He would have asked for a transfer and would have been a soldier. It was his fault though and he accepted this mission as punishment for committing sin.

  “Have you experienced any difficulties with your wings since living in the mortal realm?”

  That softly spoken question came not from his superior but the dark haired man to his left. A mediator. Marcus didn’t know him or the other angel, but he could see from the embellishment on their armour that they were high ranking, and clearly they knew of his problem.

  “There was one incident and that is all.” Marcus couldn’t meet the man’s eye. He hated talking about this with anyone, even his superior and the medical staff who had assisted him throughout the centuries since the marks had appeared on his back. It made him feel vulnerable and weak, and disgraced.

  “Can you recall what you felt in that situation or anything that may have caused the curse to trigger again?” His superior this time.

  Marcus risked a glance at him. The concern in his dark eyes surprised him and buoyed his spirits, and Marcus thought about what had happened the last time his wings had failed to appear.

  Thankfully he had been on the ground and had only attempted to take off but it was always there at the back of his mind whenever he flew. His wings were unpredictable. There was nothing stopping the curse from triggering mid-flight and sending him plummeting to Earth. He had no desire to hit the ground from a great height. While the fall wouldn’t kill him, it would certainly render him unconscious and vulnerable to attack, and it would definitely hurt.

  “Nothing particular. I had merely wanted to stretch my wings and fly somewhere new for a change of scenery.”

  “Report back to us if anything happens. It should not be long now, Marcus. Your destiny awaits.”

  Before Marcus could ask exactly what that destiny entailed, the light engulfed him again. When it receded, it revealed the low-lit lounge of his apartment.

  He looked at the clock on the DVD player in the entertainment centre to his right and frowned at the time. Almost six. He rubbed his eyes and locked the front door, and then trudged wearily across the living room, stifling a yawn as he did so. When he reached his bedroom door, he beat his wings, glad to feel them and sense that they were stable, and then focused so they would disappear. They gradually shrank into his back and when the last feathers were gone, the marks there flushed with heat and then settled again.

  Marcus didn’t bother to remove his armour. He flopped down on his back on his double bed, enjoying the cool of the covers against his bare skin between his back plate and loincloth and on his arms and thighs. A gentle breeze drifted in through the open window, washing over his head and shoulders, bringing with it the scent of dawn and carrying some of his irritation away. He stared at the ceiling, watching the room brighten with the rising of the sun, his mind racing but not with questions about his mission. He focused on his shoulder blades and the marks there.

  When they had appe
ared five centuries ago, he had thought it was castigation for sinning. He had broken the law that night and had indulged in mead, a heady drink that at the time had been a banned substance for angels due to its alcoholic nature. When he had come around with his head on the verge of exploding and his stomach rebelling, his shoulder blades had been ablaze, burning so fiercely that he had felt as though someone had branded him. He had tried to bring his wings out but they had failed to appear.

  When Heaven had called him back to them, Marcus had discovered that it wasn’t punishment at all but rather a curse. It took weeks for the medical staff to discover what it meant, and months for it to sink in that it was inerasable. The marks sealed his wings for five hundred years, leaving him stranded in Heaven, only able to do the duty of a watcher.

  In the same week that Heaven had assigned him to watch over Amelia, his wings had finally escaped their prison. The medical staff had declared that the bond of the curse was weakening with time but that he might still encounter difficulties. He had been too intoxicated by the thought of flying again to care that there might be future incidents where his wings would refuse to appear.

  There were many at first but as time continued to flow, so the curse continued to weaken, and the space between the incidents grew. During his last assessment, the medical team had announced that his problem was no longer the curse but psychological barriers he had constructed. Something about it being his mind causing his wings not to appear.

  Marcus had found it difficult to believe since he had no desire to drop from the sky and hit the pavement, but when they had explained it in layman’s terms, he had understood their point a little better. If he feared that his wings would disappear, or not appear when he needed them, then he could actually cause such a thing to happen. The power of the mind was frightening.

  Since then, he had spent every moment when flying thinking about how wonderful his wings were and that he was glad to have them, and he really didn’t want them to go away, and that his curse wasn’t in effect anymore.

  It seemed to have worked well so far.

  There had only been that one incident since coming to the mortal realm, and the incident before that had been almost thirteen years ago when he had come to Earth to oversee Amelia as she moved out of her family’s house in the countryside and into her own apartment in London at the age of eighteen. He wasn’t sure what had happened then either.

  His mind drifted over the past incidents and how his superior had conveniently used each one to deflect his questions and get him off the subject of Amelia’s destiny. Skilful old bastard. His superior was ancient in angel terms, reborn almost six thousand years ago, although he appeared no older than Marcus.

  Marcus had been reborn in a time of peace two thousand years ago and could only remember that his previous position had been that of a guardian too. Most angels changed roles on their rebirth, with the exception of a few who bore destinies that kept them harnessed into a specific role, but all forgot their past lives. It was common for some to recall main points about themselves and all retained their former appearance, although wing colour changed from role to role.

  Marcus couldn’t recall ever being something other than a guardian.

  He knew angels who had changed roles, dying one day as a guardian and waking the next as a mediator or assistant of death or a hunter.

  Death himself, Apollyon by name, had been reborn countless times into the same role, forever a black-winged messenger of destruction, and was a singularity in that he could remember important historical events in which he had been involved. Namely horrific times of devastation such as the flood, and the fall of civilisations, and the punishment inflicted upon Sodom and Gomorrah.

  Perhaps Marcus was eternally reborn as a guardian because he had a destiny.

  He just wasn’t sure what that destiny was.

  But he knew it had something to do with Amelia and the event that would occur in the future. His reason for keeping her safe. Once the event occurred, his mission would end. What was her destiny?

  Whatever it was, it was important enough that Heaven had assigned him to watch over her as she walked the path towards her fate. Not many mortals had personal watchers. Most angels in the Higher Order of Watchers were assigned to thousands of people at once.

  Amelia had her own guardian angel.

  Himself.

  Why?

  Marcus threw his left arm across his face and grimaced when the hard cold vambrace protecting his forearm struck his nose, sending dull pain splintering across his skull. He sighed and focused, using his power to remove his armour, and lay naked on the bed, contemplating what the future held for him and for Amelia.

  Heaven hadn’t punished him.

  His actions tonight had engendered a positive emotional response in Amelia.

  He didn’t like the sound of that or what his superior had implied.

  He tilted his head to his right and stared at the wall that separated his apartment from Amelia’s. He couldn’t feel her in the bedroom, which meant she was sleeping on the couch, too far away for him to easily sense.

  Was she attracted to him?

  If she was, could he bring himself to use that against her and forge the connection between them that his superior had mentioned?

  He wanted his mission to end.

  But he wasn’t sure he was willing to pay the price his superior had placed on it.

  Marcus had always obeyed his orders and did all in his power to remain a faithful and loyal servant of his master, but he was also a man of principles who followed a code of honour, and using Amelia’s feelings against her was wrong. As little as he cared about mortals, he couldn’t ensnare her in such a way or gain her trust through manipulation.

  He would gain her trust and connect with her, but not as his superior had ordered.

  He would do so in a mortal way.

  He just had to figure out what that entailed.

  This was going to take some research.

  CHAPTER 3

  Marcus was still pondering how to gain Amelia’s trust the next evening as he walked back towards his apartment building near the centre of London. The street wasn’t affluent or run-down. It sat somewhere in the middle, and was far nicer than the first area Amelia had lived in when she had moved out of her parents house. This was a safe neighbourhood, full of mortals who worked in Central London and were paid well enough to live only a few Tube stops from the office. Cafés, restaurants and shops lined the busy street, mortals coming and going as they went about their business. It was Saturday and, since waking around noon because of the heat, he had passed the entire day wandering the city, watching mortals as they interacted with each other. The local park had produced the most interesting results. The bright sunny summer’s day had drawn many couples, both long-term and aspiring, into the lush green park, where they had sat on blankets and talked, amongst more carnal things.

  Marcus had sat in a large oak tree, invisible to mortal eyes and shaded from the heat by the thick leafy canopy, surveying them with interest. Given the number of couples that were kissing or looking as though they were going to kiss given an opportune moment and the correct signal from their chosen partner, a picnic seemed too intimate for his requirement but it had given him some ideas about how to gain Amelia’s trust, although he wasn’t sure if it was necessary for his mission at all. Amelia had allowed him into her home last night. Based on that, he concluded that she already trusted him on some level, and since he had protected her from her ex-lover, proving his ability and strength, when the time came, she might do whatever he had to ask of her.

  He only wished he knew what he was going to face during the event they were heading towards. If he knew that, if his superiors would give him more information about what they had seen, then perhaps he would be better prepared to deal with it and complete his mission. There had to be a reason they weren’t telling him though, and it was his duty to obey his orders without question. A good soldier did what was asked of hi
m, regardless of what it was.

  Marcus blew out a sigh. He could do that because the mission would end if he did and he would be free of Earth and the mortals.

  “Hi.”

  Marcus raised his head and looked at his surroundings, surprised to see that he was back at the old redbrick apartment building.

  Amelia stood before him, her hand still raised in greeting, a smile on her face.

  “You spacing out?” She bit her lip. “Don’t tell me it’s lack of sleep. I still feel terrible about last night.”

  Marcus shook his head and scrubbed a hand down his face.

  “Shoot, it is lack of sleep, isn’t it? I’m sorry.” She nibbled her lower lip again, entrancing him.

  It wasn’t just her soft mouth that held his attention today. The evening sun shone down on her, highlighting her shoulder-length dark hair with ribbons of gold and warming her skin almost as much as her blush. She was radiant and the trace of shyness in her eyes as she glanced at anywhere but him only added to her allure.

  She had always been so confident in the past when he had been watching her. What had her acting so feminine and shy now?

  Her grey eyes briefly touched on his and then dropped to the black leather purse she clutched over her shoulder.

  Marcus resisted the desire to follow the strap down over her slender bare shoulder and take in her body. The thin cream ribbon of material that sat close to her bag strap hinted at another flimsy dress. It had been hard enough to cope with the feelings her slip had produced in him last night. He wasn’t sure how he would react to the sight of her in another revealing item of clothing.

  She cleared her throat and his silver-blue gaze drifted back to her face. Her cheeks darkened and she covered her mouth with her hand and then let it fall away and raised her head, locking eyes with him.

  “I’m going to buy you a coffee.”

  Marcus raised a single dark eyebrow at the force in her tone and the command in her words. That was more like the Amelia he knew so well, yet the quaver in her voice gave away her underlying nerves as much as her rapid heartbeat pounding in his skull. Perhaps his superiors were correct in their assumption. Amelia liked him.