Before Lex, Clara herself had made a conscious decision not to be true, heart-to-heart friends with anyone because of her clairvoyance. It was too difficult, seeing things about another, their present and future, in stereo simulcast with their spoken hopes and dreams, the things that made them laugh or cry. But she could only read vague things from Lex, no clear pictures of her present and future. It was like the reassuring hum of a radio turned down low, instead of blasting music all the time. If she probed, Clara hit a wall. She'd accepted that block, and they'd been close friends since, even though Lex's aura was unclassifiable, and that light . . . well, it wasn't exactly human.
On the third day, when she was determined to go to the police, the cold feeling ebbed and she received a phone message from a woman who said Lex had a family emergency. Though Lex's psychic signature was strong, her mother's surpassed it, leaving no doubt in Clara's mind the woman was who she said she was.
Something bad had gone down, she was sure of it. It might be over now, but as her friend, she wanted to see Alexis, wouldn't feel comfortable until she did. Which might be why she found herself at Lex's town house, lying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking and dozing by turns when the sugar crash kicked in. Groggily, she turned her head, startled to see she'd been here for two hours. She'd dozed off longer than she'd expected. Best to get up, find her Chem-Lab book and do some work. Maybe she'd stay here tonight instead of walking across the green to her own town house. But she was so sleepy . . .
She let her eyes drift closed again, but a sense that something was not quite the same in the room made her open them again. She blinked, her lips curving in amazement. "Wow."
As dreams went, he was something else. Tall, winged, dark-haired and dark-eyed. The red silk half-tunic he wore stopped at midthigh and did a great job of not concealing the length of powerful leg, the bare chest and striated abdomen above the wide belt. A deep scar on his chest tweaked a thread of pain in her heart. Angels must be more mortal than advertised. He had gorgeous dark green wings that caught the sunlight filtering through the blinds. Though they were spread enough to frame his broad shoulders, they folded as they tapered down, crossing at the tips near his bare feet. He was studying her closely.
"This is a dream," he said. The power in his voice rolled over her, making nerves tingle all across her flesh.
"The best dream ever," she agreed, pushing herself to a sitting position. His eyes widened fractionally, as if that was unexpected, but it was her dream, wasn't it? She rose and walked toward him, through the bands of sunshine streaming through the slats of blinds. Though they briefly obscured her vision, she reached out anyway and encountered hard male flesh. Oh, a really real dream, and she had more vivid ones than most. She usually recognized the difference between a dream and a vision that might come to pass, her clairvoyance joining with a touch of the fortune-teller, but this seemed like both and neither, at once.
She'd almost say it was real, but of course it was an angel standing in Lex's bedroom, an angel with a strong, heated aura and a touch of darkness. That darkness was a small shadow on his soul, revealing a sadness there, but she could make it go away, all she had to do was touch his lips. She leaned into him, smiling at the idea of kissing away an angel's hurts in her dream.
But it would take more than that. As she gazed up into his eyes, she saw it. The physical scar went so deep, it had damaged the muscle, made it harder to fly. Not impossible, no, but he couldn't do it as well as he'd always done it, and that hurt his pride. The memory of the battle where he'd gotten it made her draw in a breath, seeing his fierceness, the flashing sword, the warrior light in his eyes as he spun and slashed, even after he was struck. Grazing her lips across it impulsively, she slid her hands over his ribs, palms coming to rest on the wide belt. Hooking her fingers there gave her the leverage to lift to her toes and raise her face for the kiss she wanted. But darn it, he was still too tall.
Leaning in to experience every delightful inch of his body, she pressed her thigh against his and shifted onto his foot. She slid one hand over the scar, following it to his shoulder. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she found his nape. His strong neck would give her the needed hitch to reach his lips. But if it was her dream, he should be a little more accommodating and bend down, meet her halfway. Shouldn't he?
"Marcellus? Clara?"
The angel touched her. He gripped her upper arms with a strength that was knee weakening, but not bruising. Easing her off his foot and back onto her own, he held her there as she blinked. Focused. That was Lex's voice, Lex's real voice.
She pivoted on her foot, slow and careful, and saw her standing in the doorway, eyes wide, brows raised. Clara shook her head, trying to figure out why she wasn't looking up at Lex from the bed, which was where she'd be if she'd just woken up. Of course, sometimes during her more powerful visions, she sleepwalked. Once she'd made her way to a flight of stairs and woke by tumbling down them. Since she'd been mostly asleep when it happened, she'd been limp, like a drunk, and had arrived at the bottom with nothing but bruises and rattled nerves.
"Lex," she said. "Lex." Her friend's instant, reassuring smile warmed her, inside and out. "You're okay."
Clara ran forward then, heedless of her groggy state, and threw her arms around the other girl, squeezing her close, breathing in the amazing vibrating energy that was Alexis. She'd always known Lex was glad for their friendship, that it made her feel less alone. She wondered if Lex knew she felt the same. She should really tell her that, but--
Something was still off. Clara frowned, easing back but still petting Alexis absently as she turned her head. And blanched. "Okay, I'm really awake, and he's still there. Lex?"
"You thought he was a dream?" It was the barely repressed laughter in Alexis's voice that brought Clara to a fully awakened state. "Well that explains it. I knew you were pretty forward, but I thought it was a little blatant, even for you."
Clara squeezed her once more for reassurance--Lex was okay!--then retraced her steps to the angel, whose dark eyes made it impossible to tell what he was thinking. Though if she had to guess, she'd say he was poised between agitated and . . . irritable. He had to be a dream. This was crazy. Putting out a hand, she touched his chest again and sucked in a gasp as he much more readily and quickly took hold of her wrist, stilling her. "Holy shit. He is real."
"Yes." He spoke in that distant thunder voice again, changing his attention to Lex. "I told her not to see me, to view me as a dream. She didn't."
"Clara has exceptional clairvoyance. Pyel knows, which is why he never comes around me when she's here. But I wasn't expecting her. I wasn't expecting you, either." There was fondness, but a mild reproof in the tone, and this time his brows drew together, his grip tightening perceptibly. But Clara was pleased that his grip was tightening on her, whether conscious or not.
"Your father asked me to watch you."
"I know. I'm sorry, Marcellus. I didn't mean to sound snappish." Alexis looked between her friend and the angel. She was receiving a curious mix from them both. Well, not so curious from Clara, because she knew her friend's irrepressible appreciation for men. Marcellus, however, seemed almost reluctant to let Clara go.
"So, if he's real"--Clara cleared her throat and attempted to look nonchalant, something Lex knew was entirely bogus, since her friend was bouncing between disbelief and amazement like a Ping-Pong ball--"did he show up in your bedroom because you're shamelessly using him? And if not, can I have him?"
Lex couldn't help it, she laughed out loud at the expression that crossed Marcellus's face. Oh, Goddess, this was why she'd missed Clara so much.
"Er, he's like an uncle to me, Clara. He and my father are very close. Which is why he's looking so horrified. Trust me, he's way too much trouble. Angels always are."
Marcellus stepped back then, releasing Clara, and gave a slight bow. "Where is Dante?"
"Right here." Dante stepped out of the shadows behind Alexis, where he'd obviously been gauging the situati
on. Lex knew he'd been prepared to counter the potential threat the angel posed, so it had been tricky there for a moment, coordinating between her conversation and the reassuring thoughts she was sending to him, filling him in on who Clara and Marcellus were.
All the blood left Clara's face and she backed up two steps, right into Marcellus, who put his hands on her shoulders. Whether to stop her from squashing him in the corner or as reassurance, Lex wasn't sure.
"He's . . . He was what was all over you that day, when your aura was strobing like Christmas lights. Who . . . what is he?"
"Clara, this is Dante. As far as what he is, I think maybe you and I need to talk some." Alexis shifted her glance to Marcellus. "I don't think there's really any choice but to tell her some of it now, right? I trust her."
"I trust your judgment regarding her." Though his tone said he found her judgment about Dante far more questionable.
Lex suppressed the urge to stick her tongue out at Marcellus as she had when she was younger and he was being too overbearing. It didn't matter, because she was being ignored, the two males eying one another with mutual dislike.
Despite that, Alexis discovered something unexpected. Marcellus didn't have the same vibe toward Dante that her father did. Not that Marcellus trusted Dante, but she felt more of a wait-and-see than obliterate-him-now attitude. He brought his attention back to her before she could digest that. "Tread carefully, Alexis. I will inform your father of this new development with your friend, if you are truly fine."
"I am," she promised. "Thank you, Marcellus, for checking on us."
"You," he corrected. "I was checking on you."
Okay, so he wasn't entirely different from her father. She bit back a sigh and nodded. "Tell Pyel we're doing fine."
Marcellus nodded, and then he was gone. Alexis knew angels moved quickly enough that they appeared to dematerialize. From the way Dante stepped to the right, clearing the doorway, she knew he had seen him, but Clara swayed at the sudden lack of support. Lex leaped forward and caught her hands.
"Come and sit down," she said. "We'll talk."
AS she and Dante had discussed, humans had difficulty processing drastic changes to their reality. Clara was more attuned than most, but Lex still proceeded cautiously, knowing part of it was her own selfish desire not to lose Clara's friendship by forcing a direct confrontation with Alexis's "otherness."
After she'd told her the basics--what she was, where she'd been the past week, Dante's presence--she subsided, waiting for questions or reaction. Clara had remained quiet throughout, her large eyes fastened on Alexis's face. During that time, Dante had prowled the town house, but now he returned to her bedroom and settled on her incongruous vanity chair. It felt like a show of support, an acknowledgment of how difficult this moment might become. She hadn't had to ask him to give her the uninterrupted time with Clara, either. Was it mind reading, or just chance? If it was the former, he was actually being considerate, which was intriguing on its own.
He didn't speak in her mind or say anything to confirm or deny as he returned, but she'd already noted how little he spoke unless addressed directly, or he felt a command or directive was needed. Where Dante had been, idle chitchat wasn't a way to pass the time; scoping his surroundings for threat and information was. While she wondered what he gathered about her place, she considered how many years it would take him to relax and enjoy a setting, rather than assessing it. She'd seen police officers from urban war zones do the same when supposedly relaxing with family at a park or restaurant.
If Clara didn't speak, she was going to scream. There was nothing definitive coming from her yet, though. The girl had curled up in Lex's papasan chair to listen while Lex sat on the bed. She had her arms wrapped around her knees, her chin on them, eyes downcast as she thought.
Lex turned her attention back to Dante. The sunglasses they'd picked up, along with the silence of his emotions, made him disturb ingly unreadable. Are you okay?
Instead of replying, he rose and moved across her room to the pile of stuffed animals. Squatting in front of them, he reached out and touched Eeyore's wide, pink plush nose. Then he closed his hand over the creature's entire face and lifted the toy, holding it in both hands. The two stared at one another, Eeyore with soulful, sad plastic eyes, and Dante in sunglasses, just as monochrome in his expression.
"I always knew it was something." Clara spoke at last. Alexis snapped her attention back to her. "I'm glad I finally know."
Easy as that, the girl uncoiled from the chair to lean forward and cover Lex's hand with her own. "Mind you, for the next few days, I'm going to be thinking 'no freaking way.' It'll take a little bit to get my mind around it. But I think if that angel comes and stands in the corner of my bedroom, it will help me accept the situation more quickly."
Lex grinned, squeezing her fingers hard in response, holding her friend's gaze long enough to convey her gratitude. What came from Clara were the same waves of friendship and love she'd always shared, laced with a liberal curiosity Lex was sure meant she'd eventually have a million questions to answer. "Trust me, stick with Greek professors. Much easier to deal with."
Clara smiled back, but as her gaze moved to Dante, her sober expression returned. "Lex . . ." She bit her lip, obviously realizing there was no way to speak her concerns, because Lex had made it clear that Dante was in her head. Not to mention he was in the same room.
"I know what you see, Clara." Lex retained her hand. "Trust me. The Dark Ones are terrible beings. Until about twenty years ago, it was assumed that any of their offspring were just as evil. But my godmother is a Dark Spawn. There is a terrible darkness to her, but a great goodness as well, a strong power she used to save the world before you and I were born. My gift is feeling emotions. Most of the time I know what he feels as he's feeling it. He's not evil." Just a tad dangerous and unpredictable right now, she added to herself silently.
"So when he gets a sudden urge to murder you, you'll know right ahead of time?" Though Clara muttered it, the ominous presence behind Alexis flickered with warning, no matter his apparently harmless examination of her stuffed animal collection.
"Dante won't hurt me. Not on purpose."
"He's . . . like you. I can't feel anything from him. He's got psychic shields like Fort Knox."
"I know. Sometimes I have a hard time reading him as well. It's like his emotions are all there, but they're a big ball of yarn."
"Leave it to you to pick the most complex male in the whole universe." Lex was relieved to feel Clara push back her worry. "What can I do?"
"Well, I'd kind of like you two to meet each other formally." But when Alexis shifted around, she stopped, blinking.
He'd picked up several more animals, and was bringing them to his face, rubbing the soft fur there. Giving Clara a reassuring look, she rose, circled the bed and kneeled next to him. As he looked toward her, she slid the glasses off his face, because she wanted to see the swirling flame of his eyes. "These are toys," he said.
She nodded. He held Tigger in one hand and Pooh in the other, Eeyore balanced on his knees. Alexis took the Eeyore and closed her arms around the donkey, giving him a hug. "I sleep with him sometimes. His sad eyes make me feel better if I feel lonely."
He took that one back from her. It should have looked odd, the tall man with a stern expression and frightening eyes holding a trio of stuffed animals, but the wave of jumbled responses from him told her differently. He studied Eeyore. "You hold him while you sleep. In one of those large shirts that hides your body." His distaste for that was so obvious she caught Clara's surprised quirk of mouth.
"Yes. They're comfortable."
"Mmm." He brought the Eeyore back to his face, stroked the plush once again across his jaw. When he leaned forward, Alexis held still as he rubbed his jaw against her skin, his nose teasing her hair.
"I'm not as soft and furry," she attempted to smile, though her heart was in her throat.
He shook his head, leaned back. "Just as soft, a d
ifferent way. There is nothing soft, where I am from. The closest to it are not close at all. They are . . ."
"Squishy?" she supplied helpfully. He nodded.
"Yes. Many of them bite, or their skin is poisoned." Dropping Tigger to the floor, he ran a thumb over her bottom lip, then down her throat to the vee of her shirt. As if Clara's presence was inconsequential, he grazed his knuckles over the rise of her breast. "If I sleep with you in my arms, will I feel less lonely?"
"I hope so. I don't want you to be lonely anymore. Ever again." Her passion surprised her, rising hot and sure from her heart. Also unexpected was a sudden surge of anger toward Mina. Why had she left him there?
"She owed me nothing." He cocked his head, his gaze penetrating. "Neither do you. Why do you help me, Alexis? What is it you wish from me, other than the pleasure of my body?"
Alexis's face flamed. Clara cleared her throat. "Er, do you want me to take off now? I do have a Chem test, but if there's anything you need from me . . ."
Alexis straightened, and Dante rose with her, blocking her way. "You did not answer me." The crimson eyes flamed in warning, though she'd already felt the darkness swell within him, goaded in some way by the direction of his thoughts, his question. Clara registered it as well, for she was casting about for something to use as a weapon.
Dante turned on his heel. Lex caught his sleeve. "No, she doesn't mean you any harm. She's--"
Curling his lip he hissed, showing off the prominent fangs, and giving Clara a direct view of his otherworldly gaze. The girl gasped, but she held her ground, closing her hands into fists. "You try to hurt her, you'll have to take us both."
"No one is hurting anyone." Alexis kept a firm grasp on Dante's sleeve, though she knew that would be no physical deterrent at all. Fear flooded her. Please, don't hurt her. Dante, why are you angry?
He vibrated with barely leashed violence, so malevolent everything in Alexis demanded she withdraw her hand and escape the room with Clara. Instead, she tightened her grip. You're scaring me. Scaring us both. We've been through this before. You're much stronger and faster than either one of us. You could kill us before we could blink. We're not a threat. Please stop.