At the Kline-Pakowski wedding, two men stood watching one woman. Their gazes were fixed on the curvaceous, slightly tipsy redhead who was dancing and laughing with the other guests.
“You can’t have her,” the dark man said as he came to stand beside the other.
“What is it you want, angel?” The tall man with the ash-blond pony tail looked at him, as if not surprised to see him.
“She’s not for you, James.” The angel’s tone was most adamant. “You’re a demon. She’s too pure for you.”
“It’s not for you to tell me anything, Saint Gilbert of the anally righteous. We both know I’m beyond your limited powers. If I want her I’ll have her.”
Gilbert’s hands curled into fists as if he was trying to control himself. “You can’t always take what you want.”
“And yet you’re here for the same reason as me.” James assessed him with cynical amusement. “You plan to manipulate her as well. You’re no better that me, angel.”
“I don’t have to justify myself you, hellhound.”
James threw back his head and laughed at his words. “Is that the best you can do? I’ve been called much worse.” His gaze locked once more on the woman. “She’s fascinating, isn’t she?”
“Yes, most beautiful.” Gilbert swallowed hard as if trying to focus on keeping control.
James reached out and snagged a glass of white wine from a waiter passing by. “And she doesn’t have a clue of her destiny.”
“I cannot allow you to use that against her.”
“Must you angels always assume those from Hell are after something?”
“Historical evidence proves that your brethren only want what’s best for them.”
“As do you holier-than-thou types.” James downed his wine in two long swallows. “You can’t tell me that who she is doesn’t interest you, Saint Gilbert.” He reached over and grabbed two more glasses, offering one to the angel at his side.
Gilbert declined his offer. “She’s why I’m here.”
“You knew I was coming for her.”
That was a fact and they both knew it. They were enemies and each would do whatever they had to in order to get their own way.
“So do we allow her to save him or not?” James downed his second drink. “You and I both know that’s the reason we’re here.”
“I’m here to stop her.” Gilbert’s mouth was set in grim determination. “He must die sometime in the next week.”
James raised his eyebrow mockingly. “Fancy an angel advocating death…tut, tut.”
“I cannot allow Hell to prop him up as some despotic puppet to be manipulated for Satan’s amusement.” The angel’s words were strained and angry.
“Well, Satan is one for mischief.”
|Publisher:||Scarlet Harlot Publishing|
|File size:||128 KB|
|Age Range:||18 Years|
About the Author
Amarinda Jones believes anything is possible and sometimes just asking for the impossible will surprise someone enough that they will give it to you. Writing is like that. Put it out there and wait for a response. There is always the possibility you may fall on your arse, but after all, that's what cellulite is for. Amarinda believes in taking chances, speaking her mind and aging disgracefully. Twenty years from now she plans on being the neighborhood witch that all the kids are scared of. But then, everyone has to have a hobby.
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At the Kline-Pakowski wedding, two men stood watching the one woman. Their eyes were fixed on the curvaceous, slightly tipsy brunette who danced and laughed with the other guests.
"You cannot have her," the dark man said as he came to stand beside the other whose gaze never left the lady in question.
"What is it you want, angel?" The tall man with the ash blond ponytail spared him a glance, not surprised to see him.
"She is not for you, James." The angel's tone was most adamant. "You are a demon. She is too pure for you."
"It is not for you to tell me anything, Saint Gilbert of the anally righteous. We both know I am beyond your limited powers. If I want her, I will have her."
Gilbert's hands curled into fists. "You cannot always take what you want."
"And yet you are here for the same reason." James assessed him with cynical amusement. "You plan to manipulate her as well. You are no better than me, angel."
"I do not have to justify myself to you, hell hound."
James threw back his head and laughed. "Is that the best you can do? I have been called much worse." His eyes locked again on the woman. "She is fascinating isn't she?"
"Yes, most beautiful." Gilbert swallowed hard, trying to focus on maintaining control.
James reached out and snagged a glass of white wine from a waiter passing by. "And she does not have a clue of her destiny."
"I cannot allow you to use that against her."
"Must you angels always assume those from hell are after something?"
"Historical evidence proves that your brethren only want what is best for themselves."
"As do you holier-than-thou types." James downed the contents of his glass in two longswallows. "You cannot tell me that who she is does not interest you, Saint Gilbert." He reached over and grabbed two more glasses, offering one to the angel at his side.
Gilbert declined his offer. "She is the reason I am here."
"You knew I was coming for her."
"Yes." That was a fact, and they both knew it. They were enemies who would do whatever they had to in order to get their own way.
"So do we allow her to save him or not?" James downed his second glass.
"I am here to stop her." Gilbert's mouth was set in grim determination. "He must die sometime in the next week."
James raised his eyebrow mockingly. "Fancy that, an angel advocating death ... tut, tut."
"I cannot allow hell to prop him up as some despotic puppet to be manipulated for Satan's amusement." The angel's words were strained and angry.
"Well, Satan is one for mischief."
Gilbert sighed, "I know you will encourage her to save him."
"Yes, what a role reversal for us--me saving what you want to destroy."
"I do what I must for the greater good."
James chuckled at his words, amused. "Sounds like an excellent slogan for a t-shirt." He contemplated the woman carefully. "And I do what I do for an increase in power base. Only the powerful survive hell in any comfort. However, I didn't know how delicious this particular mortal was. I do so like corrupting the sweet ones."
"Seduction to sway her to your way of thinking? How tacky and Neanderthal of you, demon."
The demon in question shrugged his shoulders; the angel's opinion meant very little to him. "What is your plan? To walk through a field of wildflowers quoting poetry until you bore her to death, until she has no will to live and agrees to what you want? At least I can offer her a bloody good series of orgasms."
"The fact that you so underrate angels heartens me, as your arrogance will be your undoing."
"Probably," James responded laconically. "She does not look as though she has the ability to change history, but then the truly interesting never do."
"Jontie Rhodes cannot be allowed to save Edward Carter." Gilbert's tone was adamant about that.
"Edward Carter is an evil bastard, angel. We both know that. Hell decrees that he fulfill his contract to us. To do that, he must live."
The angel's hands flexed into fists. "You may have his soul in exchange for favors, but you do not have hers."
James released a world wearily sigh. "Everyone has something they need in their lives. She will be no different. Greed rules all mortals." He grinned at the other man. "It keeps Hell in business."
Gilbert shook his head is despair. "Do you care for no one?"
"You know the answer to that, angel. I do not have the ability to care," James' voice was harsh and clipped, colored by the sting of past misdeeds and encounters.
"Do not hurt her."
"I have definite plans for the lady."
"As do I."
The demon bowed to the angel. "Then may the best immortal win."
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