Angel Bound

His Guardian Angels 1

Angel Bound Madigan has a successful career as co-owner of a bakery and has never really been passionate about much else. His mother has always claimed that he was the son of the Archangel Raphael, but he'd never had reason to believe her. That is, until Madigan finds himself hunted by angelic fanatics who see him as an abomination. His father has assigned him guardian angels to act as his protection from the hunters. The five men desperately search for a solution for Madigan's protection and find only one viable option. Madigan must become Angel Bound, married in angelic terms, to all of his guardian angels. Now Madigan has gone from having no relationships to having five simultaneously. All of the men will have to learn to balance desire and duty in order to ensure Madigan's safety and happiness above all things. Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal Length: 32,246 words

ANGEL BOUND His Guardian Angels 1

Jana Downs

LOVEXTREME FOREVER MANLOVE

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK IMPRINT: LoveXtreme Forever ManLove

ANGEL BOUND Copyright © 2012 by Jana Downs E-book ISBN: 1-61926-529-X First E-book Publication: March 2012 Cover design by Les Byerley All art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers Dear Readers, If you have purchased this copy of Angel Bound by Jana Downs from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book. The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment. This is Jana Downs’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Downs’s right to earn a living from her work. Amanda Hilton, Publisher www.SirenPublishing.com www.BookStrand.com

DEDICATION To all the angels in my life.

ANGEL BOUND His Guardian Angels 1 JANA DOWNS Copyright © 2012

Prologue Madigan shifted, rolling over onto his stomach. His naked skin felt fantastic against the soft satin sheets. They were in his favorite color, red. It was everywhere on the huge, orgy-sized bed which he lounged in. It was his favorite place in the house by far. Every memory here was special. He sighed and relaxed under the soft light of the early dawn. The darkest part of night was when he was typically cuddled in their big bed. He was curiously alone. The only light in the room was that of a single bedside lamp. The golden glow was hardly the best thing for illumination. It was probably the worst thing. However, it gave a romantic feel to the otherwise dark room. “Madigan, what are you doing?” a teasing voice asked from the foot of the bed. He glanced down and smiled. Though his lover was wrapped in shadows, he knew him by scent alone. “Hi there,” he greeted. “Where is everyone?” His lover’s lips twisted into a crooked half smile. “Had a meeting with their bosses. They’ll be back soon.” “How soon?” Madigan wondered. He didn’t like the house being so empty. His lover chuckled.

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“They’ll be back by dawn. They promised.” His gorgeous muscles bunched as he leapt into bed with all the grace of a boneless underwater creature. The movements were absolutely fluid. Madigan relaxed at the words. He knew that they would always take care of him. He never had to worry about that. Still, he liked them with him. Rust-colored wings blocked out his vision of everything else as his lover climbed on top of him. Madigan smiled and opened his arms as his love pulled the sheets off his naked body. His lover hesitated, seeking permission. Madigan nodded. They kissed chastely once, twice, three times. The hint of tongue was a tease against his mouth. He felt so complete with all of them here. A spear of happiness pierced Madigan so deep he couldn’t resist running his fingers through those pretty, red wings until his lover cried out into his mouth. He knew touching them was equivalent of stroking his lover’s arousal with his tongue. Satisfaction ran deep. “I love you, Madigan. I love you so much.” His lover pulled back with a gasp, speaking the words in a rough tone of want. “I love you, too, my angel,” Madigan returned. He moved against him with ever more desirous purpose. “Make love to me.” “I thought you’d never ask.” His lover growled sullenly. Then he was pushing inside of him, and Madigan couldn’t think of anything but how good it felt to be complete. **** Madigan woke gasping for breath in the throes of a terrific orgasm. He bit into his pillow as it went on and on. He thought the throbbing in his cock was never going to stop. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, his cock gave up a final spurt of pleasure and was content to ache pleasantly. He sighed. He’d never had wet dreams as a kid, and now he was having them every damn night! He briefly considered making himself a doctor’s appointment. It was getting out of hand. He’d always been

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a take-it-or-leave-it kind of guy, and now…Now he was thinking about sex all the time. What was worse was that his dreams were escalating into orgies nightly. It was like his unconscious mind had taken up the attitude that the more the merrier applied to his sex life. “I’m turning into some kind of sex addict, and I’m only twentyseven,” he muttered to himself in the darkness of his bedroom. He glanced at the clock and groaned. Five thirty. He had to be up by six. He sighed and rolled out of bed, guiltily stripping off the sheets and disposing them in the small laundry room off to the side of his bathroom. He might as well stay up now that he was awake. He rubbed his sleepy eyes. It was his birthday soon. He was going to wish for the ability to control these weird dreams and fantasies he’d been having and pray that he got his wish for once. He grumbled as he grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled them up his hips. Today was going to be a long day.

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Chapter One Madigan Parker cringed as his mother licked two fingers and attempted to use them to wipe off whatever colored, sugary substance that he had on his cheek off with them. “Mom,” he groaned. “Do you really have to do that? I’m a grown man, for Christ’s sake.” She clucked at him like an irritated hen. “If you wouldn’t insist on wearing your work all over your face, your apron, and my countertops, I wouldn’t feel the need to bathe you like a five-year-old who has been out playing in the yard.” “I wasn’t making mud pies, Mom. Jeez. Stop,” he whined. Usually, working with his mother at their bakery Good Eat Sweets was great. When they were busy, they worked really well together. When they had a slow day, however, his mother insisted on driving him batty with her hovering. He always “needed” something in her eyes. “So when are you going to bring over a boyfriend for me to worry over instead, hmm? You’ve been gay since you were thirteen. I should have a steady son-in-law to arrange my furniture and help me pick out curtains by now.” He rolled his eyes. Really? Did she have to go there today? “Mom, can’t you see that I’m busy working with the new food color we just got in? We’ve got a sweet sixteen next week that wants everything almost neon. I’ve got to the get the fondant the right colors.” “I’m just saying, Madi, that it would be good for you to spend time with someone other than your mother during the week. You

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work yourself to death in the bakery. I know you love it, Madigan, but someone as good as you deserves to have a partner to share his life with.” He turned his eyes away from her and started kneading his fondant again. It was almost the exact shade of electric blue he needed. Almost. He reached for the tiny tube of color only to have his hand swatted away. “Do not ignore your mother when she’s talking to you,” his mother grumbled, waving her wooden spoon at him like it was a Taser or something. “Well, since my mother is speaking in third person, Madigan only ignores his mother when she’s being a pain in the butt about his love life. He doesn’t like when she’s nosy,” he quipped. “Let me set you up with someone nice, Madi. My friend Tracy Bryson and I were talking the other day at lunch, and her boy James is newly single. Wouldn’t it be great if you two went on a little date? Just something casual of course.” She gave him her signature I’m-abrilliant-mama smile, her soft gray eyes sparkling with determination. For being sixty, she looked great. Everyone said so. She was so different from Madigan. Curvy whereas he was lean. Dark brown hair with a few shots of sleek gray whereas his hair was a rusty red. Tan where his skin was pale as milk. She also was trouble with a capital T and everyone knew that, too. “No, Mom. No. James is an arrogant dick.” “Watch your mouth, Madigan Raphael Parker!” “Not to mention,” he continued, “he’s totally not my type.” “No one is ever your type, Madi! You’re twenty-eight years old and have never been in a serious relationship,” she wailed. He mentally prepared himself for mild hysterics. His mother was a drama queen when it came to getting her way. “Come on, Mom, be reasonable,” he soothed, coming around the counter and giving her a big hug. He knew he was covered in flour and frosting, but she’d have to deal. “I have a few tight friends and

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family. That’s all a guy could ever ask for.” She sniffled. “However, if it makes you happy, I’ll go out on one date with James. Just wait until after my birthday, all right? I don’t want my friends pressured into bringing their boyfriends to the party. I want it to be just friends and family.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “Okay, Madi. That’s fine.” She clapped her hands together. “That is so exciting. I’m going to go call Tracy and tell her to arrange for you two to go out next weekend. He’s a lawyer, you know.” He rolled her eyes again. “Yes, Mom. I know he’s a lawyer.” Who was also notorious in the club scene for being a hit-it-and-quit-it kind of guy, but his mother didn’t need to know that. The man was a thirtyfour-year-old shark. Madigan wasn’t going to let him within ten feet of him if he could help it. Date or not, there was no way that Madigan was giving him a chance in hell. “Oh, I’m so happy!” She squealed like a teenager before pushing the swinging door that led into the main part of the bakery and out of the kitchen. Madigan gritted his teeth and went back to kneading his fondant. At least one of them was pleased. **** It was Thursday night, and all of Madigan’s family and friends were in attendance. He was pleased that everyone could make it. It was a small and intimate affair, and that was just how he liked his birthdays to be. He’d gotten all the partying out of his system in college. At twenty-seven—make that twenty-eight now—he was way past getting plastered on his birthday. His aunt and uncle had flown in from Chicago for the occasion, and Mom had baked a huge cake for him at the bakery, which she’d forbidden him to take a peek at for days. His three closest friends, Becka, Daniella, and Christian, had all managed to find Mom’s house, too. Of course, it was hard to miss. It was bright pink. The two shades used on the exterior looked like an

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advertisement for Pepto-Bismol, but he wasn’t going to judge it. His mom had made this older seventies flat feel like a sanctuary, despite the décor. He sat in his favorite beaten-up recliner in the living room and smiled. He loved being surrounded by his family. “So what are you going to wish for your birthday?” Daniella asked with a cheeky smile. She had her arms wrapped around a big rectangular box decorated in “Happy Birthday!” wrapping paper that looked like it belonged at a five-year-old’s party. It even had a cartoon dog chewing on one of the letters. She was quirky like that. “I’m going to wish that the world ends before Saturday so that I don’t have to go out with James Delacroy,” he answered automatically. “You’re going out with James? God, why?” Christian was quick to voice, making a face of displeasure at the mere thought. Madigan wrinkled his nose in matching disgust. “It’s Mom’s birthday present to me. She had too much time on her hands last week at the bakery and cooked up this scheme with James’s mother.” Becka and Daniella started laughing. He glared. “So not funny.” “That’s hilarious,” Becka declared, standing up from her position on the couch and crossing to the small table near the fireplace where everyone had been putting their presents. She put her box on the table before grabbing Daniella’s and putting it beside hers. Hers wasn’t nearly as obnoxious. The small box looked like some kind of satin material. “Maybe you’ll be surprised and enjoy yourself,” Daniella said, barely managing to quell the full-blown grin that was threatening to make her statement blatantly hopeless. “Rrriiiiggght,” Christian answered before Madigan got a chance. “Have you ever met the guy? He’s a total sleazeball. So not worthy of our Madi.” “He might be different when you get him one-on-one,” Daniella protested, playing devil’s advocate. Her lips twitched. “Besides, Madi

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might like jerks. No one really knows. He never dates anymore. What do you say, Madigan?” He flipped her off. “Madigan Raphael, don’t let me see you do that again.” His mother’s voice made him wince. Damn. She had eyes everywhere. He looked up. She stood in the entrance to the dining room with a plain brown box that looked pretty heavy, tied with twine. “Need some help, Mom?” Madigan asked automatically. She gave him a mysterious smile. “No. No. Not at all. Just take your friends into the angel room and we’ll sing happy birthday. I’ll meet you there.” She juggled the box a little to get a better grip on it before taking the thing into the kitchen. Madigan shrugged internally. If his mom wanted to prove her independence, far be it for him to try and stop her. “Angel room?” Becka wondered as they all climbed out of their perspective couches. “Yeah…” Madigan stalled. “My mom has this thing with the Archangel Raphael. The study was converted into the angel room when I was little. The whole place is a little overwhelming.” He chuckled a little. “Well, you’ll see it for yourself in just a second.” He turned to the right and headed down the hallway. “I’ve heard of people decorating their houses with Jesus and Mary statues if they’re religious, but I didn’t think your family was,” Christian said a little uncomfortably. Since Christian was a gay man from an ultraconservative Christian family, Madigan could see why he would be nervous. They’d turned on his friend when he came out of the closet at sixteen. “We’re not religious. We’re spiritual. Mom just really loves Raphael. Like, loves him. He’s the Archangel of healing and comfort or whatever, but she thinks she’s had a personal experience with him,” he offered. They finally stood in front of the French doors that led into the study. The curtains were down so that the windows of the

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doors were covered. He smirked a little. His friends would get the full effect. The place was way over the top. “What sort of personal experience with him?” Daniella wondered curiously. Madigan cleared his throat uncomfortably. This was the part he really didn’t think about. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of it, Madigan.” He jumped as his mother’s voice entered their conversation. She’d snuck up on them somehow. “I’m not ashamed,” Madigan protested. His mother’s eyes narrowed. “Then tell them the truth.” He sighed and glanced at his feet. “My mom thinks that Archangel Raphael is my dad.”

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Chapter Two What a long, strange night. Madigan’s friends had taken the news of his mother’s “quirk” better than he’d expected. Christian had given him a look that said plainly that he thought the mere suggestion of the angel of healing being his daddy was crazy as hell, but that was the worst reaction by far. Becka and Daniella had been utterly fascinated. He yawned and climbed the stairs to his second-floor apartment. It was a little after eleven. He lived above the bakery he worked at. The baker gave a little salute to the Good Eat Sweets glowing neon pinkand-yellow sign. He stretched his arms and the bags he held over his head to try and get feeling back into his arms. The presents he’d gotten were heavy. His fingertips were tingling. Especially the huge box he’d stuck into the equally huge bag from his aunt with the handles on it. He had no idea how he was going to open his door. “Oh come on!” he grumbled as the bottom of the bag ripped and spilled the contents of his birthday party onto the ground. He cursed softly as the items collided with the dirty, metallic stairs. He looked up into the cloudy sky and glared. “Don’t I get a break since it’s my birthday, Dad?” he joked to the rain clouds. They didn’t answer with a rain of glowing, divine light, just a thick drop of rain. Figured. He cursed again. If he didn’t get his stuff off the stairs, he was going to get wet rust all over his new sweater. He snatched up what he could and made a mad dash for his front door about ten steps up on the landing. Crap. Crap. Crap, he thought, digging in his pockets for his jangle of keys. Shop keys. Storage keys. Car keys. Where the hell were his apartment keys? He had two, one for the knob lock and another for

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the dead bolt. Found them. He held them up triumphantly just as a smattering of more water droplets fell onto his head. He had to hurry. He was sure he had a spare box somewhere in his apartment that would be able to hold on the crap from his— Who the fuck are they? He pushed open the door and was greeted by the sight of four huge guys standing in his kitchen. He blinked, his mind blanking. Was this some sort of break-in or something? Then he came to the insane realization that these weren’t normal men. The eight-foot wings they were sporting belayed that sort of thinking entirely. “Is that the nephilim?” the blond guy nearest his refrigerator asked. The nepha-what? “I believe so. He has Lord Raphael’s coloring,” another of the huge guys answered. He was also a blond, but his hair was longer and curlier than Refrigerator Dude. “It is he.” Another voice joined in. He was more massive than any of the others. His hair was dark brown, and his wings were the color of indigo. Pretty. The being cocked his head to the side and gave him the same look Madigan imagined snakes gave to mice before they struck. “Kill him.” Oh fuck. **** Madigan gripped his side, giving another breathless scream as Refrigerator Guy swung a freaking honest-to-God flaming sword at his head. He ducked but barely. He felt the heat off the weapon singe his hair. “Angels officially suck ass!” he screamed as they backed him into the corner of living room. What had he done? What had he possibly done to piss God off so much? They circled closer, their swords at the ready.

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The one with the indigo wings spoke. “Nephilim, child of sin, we hereby dispatch you unto hell. Where you belong.” The words were spat. There was such venom behind those sentences that the terror Madigan was feeling was raised exponentially by their uttering. He closed his eyes and prepared to die. The living-room windows shattered inward. The sound of breaking glass and the softly spoken curses of the maniacs wielding the flames made Madigan’s eyes snap back open. He whimpered in utter terror as yet more angels poured into the room. The indigo asshole hissed like a cat as he caught sight of the other angels. “How dare you interfere!” A six-foot-something, red-haired man with bulging biceps stepped to the front of the pack so that the others flanked him in a vee formation. Despite the danger all around him, Madigan all but drooled at the gorgeous display. It would really suck if he was also here to kill him. “Sorry to bust your bubble, Azrael. We cannot allow this travesty to take place.” Oh, thank God. Someone was on his side. Gorgeous brown eyes lit on him. “Madigan, come to me.” Anywhere. Anytime. The thought crossed Madigan’s mind before he could edit it out. Where had that come from? Those deep-coffee irises flared with recognition. Could angels read thoughts? “Hurry up!” another angel to the redhead’s right snapped. His hair was pitch black, and his eyes were just as dark. He also had a lip ring. Lip ring? Really? “Move it!” The growl in the other man’s voice was intriguing. The redhead cursed violently. “He’s angelstruck. Grab him, Dex!” Without warning, someone grabbed him roughly from behind. Indigo and his buddies lunged, but he was suddenly no longer there. He yelped, his head spinning in disorientation. He was surrounded by the smell of man. He blinked and found himself in the middle of the new angels. He looked over his shoulder and met the eyes of the scariest man he’d ever seen. He was as big as all the others, but an

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aura of “other” clung to him so hard that Madigan had no doubt that he could rip out someone’s soul without missing a beat. “Uh…” He tried for speech. Failed. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I–I–What?” he managed. The black-haired one addressed the redhead. He seemed to be the leader. “You need to take him to safeplace.” “Yes,” the redhead agreed and took Madigan’s hand. He pulled him out of the scary angel’s arms. “Relax, Madigan. We have you.” That was all fine and dandy, but who the hell was “we”? The angel scooped him up like a bride and headed toward the window. Madigan looked up into the redhead’s face in awe as the sounds of clashing weaponry screamed behind them. The smell of smoke filled his nostrils. Then the angel climbed up on the broken windowsill, cradling Madigan with one hand, and leapt out into the night. As the wind whipped around them, Madigan slid into blissful unconsciousness. **** It was damp when Madigan awoke. He shivered. The baker tried to rouse himself from his stupor. What a crappy birthday. The nightmare had been a bitch, and now the rain had saturated the air in his apartment. He probably left a window open or something. “Wake, young one,” a severely masculine voice interjected in his internal dialogue. “You’ll catch a cold if you stay on the cave floor, son of Raphael. Wake.” It was then he noticed that the ground beneath his cheek was not the familiar, fluffy comfort of his pillow. He was a notorious slave to creature comforts. He forced his gritty eyes open. Gray mud and rock was under his cheek. “Oh shit,” he muttered. “That wasn’t a dream. Some asshole with indigo wings really busted into my place.” He struggled to sit up, but he was stiff. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his brain. “How long have I been here, Red?”

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The redhead frowned. “My name is Cross. Not Red. You have been here roughly four hours.” He knelt beside Madigan’s prone body and dug into a backpack that was located there. Madigan tensed for a second. The angel gave him a curious look and pulled out a bottle of Aquafina water. “Drink this. It’ll help.” Madigan took a grateful swig from the bottle. “Thanks.” “It is not a problem. We’re supposed to be taking care of you.” The angel—God, he couldn’t believe that Red was a frigging angel. The angel stood and walked to the other side of the cave wall and leaned against it. “Who is ‘we,’ and why are you supposed to be taking care of me? Furthermore, who the hell were those guys? And why are they after me?” Fifty questions sprang to Madigan’s mind and poured from his mouth in rapid succession. Red displayed a crooked grin that made Madigan’s heart lurch unexpectedly. “You are a curious creature, son of Raphael.” Madigan’s mouth hung open. “He’s really my father?” The angel frowned. “Of course he is. Who do you think sent us to you?” “I thought Mom was making it up,” he muttered, half to himself. “So he sent you to save me from those”—he paused—“demons?” That crooked smile returned. “Actually, they were angels. A special sect of angels ordained at the time of Sodom and Gomorrah to hunt down those nephilim who turned from the path of light and wreaked havoc on the mortal world.” “I am so not wreaking havoc. I’m not even dating!” he protested. “Their angelic purpose was perverted by their leaders long ago. Now they hunt all nephilim that come of age.” Madigan rolled to his knees, wincing at the bruises that were there. He must’ve banged himself up trying to get the hell out of the way last night. “At twentyeight, nephilim reach their sexual maturity and are able to breed. The choirs who follow the hunt think that humans shouldn’t have any angelic energy in them. They see it as a perversion. Nephilim also

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start to emit an angelic aura, which acts like a beacon to the choirs that hunt them. Your father knew this, and so he acted in the only way he could. He petitioned each of the archangels to donate a guardian for your protection until you finish the transition from youth to adult. Once you’ve come into your powers, you may petition your father for official protection which he can take to the Metatron to forbid the hunters from seeking you out.” “I’m going through angelic puberty?” Madigan asked stupidly. Great. Like regular human puberty hadn’t been bad enough. Granted, he was blessed with good looks and an excellent immune system but still. The awkward emotional stage had been hell. “Yes. In a sense, that is exactly what is occurring. You’ve never had any real interest in sex before, but you’ll start to notice a change now.” Apparently, twenty-eight came with a gaggle of gorgeous winged men, who could possibly be interested in killing him, and a permanent hard-on. Great. Any reply that he could’ve formed was interrupted as the sound of flapping wings filled the cavern. Madigan couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his mouth. What if Red’s other buddies had been killed or had given away their location? What if Indigo was coming to finish him off? “It is the rest of your guardians returning, Madigan. Relax,” Red commanded. Madigan found himself drawn to the angel’s side. He felt safe there. The angel surprised him by wrapping a strong arm around his shoulders and drew him into the shelter of his chest. Madigan inhaled deeply. The angel smelled good. Really good. Lickable even. Why did the damn angel have to smell so good? He wanted to rub against him like a cat. The angel’s breath hitched as Madigan’s breath blew over his bare chest. “M–Madigan.” Red’s voice hitched, and Madigan moved impossibly closer. He had to resist the urge to press his lips to the heavy pectoral muscles of Red’s chest. His name was Cross, wasn’t

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it? Yeah. Cross. It entranced Madi when Cross’s wings fluttered, Madigan interpreted it as nervousness. It was gorgeous. “I see he’s taking this really well.” A snarky voice interrupted their moment. “Angelic transition seems to be hardening that sweet cock of his right up. Tell me, Cross, how does it feel pressed against your thigh? Like coming home? You in the mood for a little slap and tickle with the boss’s son?” Madigan froze in embarrassment. Holy shit. He was cuddled up with Cross like they were a couple or something. “Oh my God. I’m sorry,” he managed to stammer before pulling away. The angel let him go reluctantly. Madigan turned to see the rest of the angels who’d flown into his window standing in a semicircle facing them. He swallowed and resisted the urge to adjust himself. He’d never had this problem before. Dammit. He felt the burn in his cheeks and knew they were scarlet. The black-haired one stepped forward. His wings flexed with muscle, and it made Madigan take a step back. Their midnight-black color reminded him of ravens’ wings, and the whole death metaphor didn’t seem implausible at the moment. “Nice to know that you’re getting friendly with daddy’s special kiss ass while we’re out there risking our necks for you, pretty boy,” the angel all but snarled in his face. “That is enough, Bren. There is no reason to be so rude. He meant no harm,” the blond said, grabbing the snarling one’s arm. The blond’s arctic-blue eyes were glittering, hard diamonds even in the dim light that came from the overhead shaft. Bren turned and growled. An honest-to-God growl. “You start fucking with me, Michel, and I will kick your ass all the way back to the frontlines so that you can suck Michael off with that same mouth that you’re using to piss me off with.” “What sort of angel talks like that?” Madigan interrupted incredulously. Those pitch-black eyes narrowed on him. “The sort that didn’t want to be here to begin with.” Bren glared.

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“Well, then don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out.” Madigan snapped, losing the tenuous hold on his temper. “I didn’t ask you to be here, you angelic prick. So why don’t you just leave?” “Gladly!” Bren shouted, jumping up and using his massive wings to lift himself off the ground. Three more gigantic flaps and he was airborne, and within fifteen seconds he was out of sight. Madigan stared after him for another minute before turning to the rest of the group. “What the hell was that about?” Madigan wondered. “Don’t worry about it,” the one named Michel said with a smile. “He’s one of Lucifer’s, and he’s got a temper from hell.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Well, not from hell. Bren didn’t actually fall.” He laughed at himself easily. He was obviously really laid back. Still, Madigan’s eyes bulged. “Lucifer? As in the devil? He’s one of Lucifer’s angels?” “Of course,” Cross answered. “Your father made sure every Archangel contributed to your protection, and Lucifer is among that number.” “I get the whole protection thing, but Lucifer?” Madigan squeaked. In the future, he was really going to attempt to not piss that guy off. “Why do humans get hung up on the Archangel Lucifer?” Michel wondered aloud. “He works for God the same as the rest. To draw a comparison, he is the janitor of the heavenly realms. He cleans up the filth and deposits it where it goes. Why does everyone act like he’s so utterly terrifying?” Cross made an irritated sound. “We’re not introducing ourselves very well to our charge.” “He’s right.” The scary one named Dex added his voice to the mix. It made Madigan jump. He didn’t strike him as the talking type. Dex stepped forward and gave a little bow. “I am Dex. My Archangel is Lord Gabriel. It is a pleasure to guard you, Madigan.” Madigan

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gave him a tentative smile. It was the first real greeting he’d gotten from the group of angels who had saved his life. Michel stepped forward next. “I’m Michel. My lord is Archangel Michael.” He reached out and ruffled Madigan’s hair like he was a kid or something. “Looking forward to working with you, cutey.” He winked, and Madigan blushed. Madigan found himself leaning into the angel’s hand, and Michel obliged him by stroking his hair, petting him like a cat. Michel also smelled good. What was it with angels and smelling like something edible? Cross walked to his right and gently took his arm to pull him out of Michel’s touch. “Easy, Madigan. Your instincts are sharper with us around.” “Instincts?” Madigan found himself asking. He had been enjoying Michel’s stroking hands. “I told you, you’re going through angelic maturity. You’re going to want to seek out and mate with eligible playmates,” Cross said patiently. Madigan leaned into him and tried to steady himself. The angel was right. If he was going through angel puberty, then he needed to get a hold of his hormones. Just because he wanted to rub himself against these men like a bitch in heat didn’t mean that he had to act on it. “Sorry,” he muttered. Cross ran his hand down Madigan’s arm in a gentle caress. “Nothing to be sorry for.” He took a step back, and Madigan felt the space between them. It felt cold. “As you know, I’m Cross. Your father, Lord Raphael, is my Archangel and direct superior.” “So what now?” Madigan asked after the group fell silent for an endless stretch of time. They all just stared at him. His heart sank. “You didn’t think that far ahead or something? What am I supposed to do? Stay in this big hole in the ground until I can petition Daddy for a get-out-of-hell-free card?” Cross looked at Dex. “Have you been in contact with Yuri?”

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Dex nodded. “He’s still working on a solution. Raphael has called a meeting of the archangels to establish some sort of sanctuary, but a permanent solution is still not forthcoming.” “Who’s Yuri?” Madigan asked in confusion. It seemed that all he’d done for the past several hours was be confused. Their eyes lit on him. “Yuri is the donation from Archangel Uriel. He’s currently in the temples in Eden trying to find a way to offer you protection other than just our warring capabilities. Your transition could take years, and we want to affect your life adversely as little as possible. Therefore, finding a way to allow you to continue your work at the bakery is paramount to our mission,” Dex offered. The low, tight rumble of his voice was both frightening and soothing. He was the one you wanted to call when you needed the soul ripped out of the boogeyman when he was giving you nightmares. Hell, the guy probably chased the nightmares, too. “How many of you are there?” Madigan demanded. His life was being overrun by gorgeous winged protectors. Jeez. When had his life turned into a movie that Keanu Reeves would play in? “Five total. As I’ve said. One from each Archangel.” Cross’s patient voice soothed him. If he would’ve been him, Madigan would have been pulling his hair out by now. He knew he asked fifty million questions. It was just his way. Dex glanced at the ceiling and squinted, his eyes darting back and forth. Madigan cocked his head and stared. What the heck was he looking at? His heart began to pound. Was it Mr. Indigo and his buddies again? He didn’t hear flapping wings but— “Be of ease, Madigan,” Dex said calmly, not looking in his direction. “I’m receiving a message from your father.” Madigan’s eyes widened. “Um, no offense, but I don’t see anything.”

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“You wouldn’t see anything,” Cross assured. “It is a gift that only the messengers possess. Those of Gabriel’s choir are the only ones with the ability. We don’t see it, either.” “Oh,” Madigan chirped. He felt so awkward around these men. He never felt so out of place in his life. After a few more minutes of Dex staring off into space, he turned to them. “We are to go to Madigan’s mother’s house.” “But it’s like three in the morning!” Madigan protested. “I don’t want to wake her up. Plus, what if those angels follow us? How are you going to protect my mom?” “I assure you they will not harm your mother,” Cross said easily. “She’s mortal and as such is off-limits unless the angel involved is willing to fall. Those of the choirs who hunt nephilim would never do something to warrant such an action. It goes against their morals.” “Killing me is fine, but fucking with other humans is morally abhorrent?” Madigan asked dryly. The sarcasm was thick in his voice. “He speaks just like Bren at times,” Michel noted with another crooked grin. “They resent things in a very similar way.” “Enough of this.” Cross interrupted yet another slide into a philosophical conversation. “If Lord Raphael says to go to your mother’s house, Madigan, then to your house we must go.” “Thank you so much for coming into my life and taking over. I really appreciate it, Red,” Madigan grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “My name is—” “Yeah. Yeah. I know your name is Cross.” Madigan let his breath out in a slow hiss of sound and tried to keep both his hysteria and his temper in check. He felt like the world was spiraling out of control. “Hey,” Michel spoke, grabbing his attention. “Don’t be mad at us, cutey. I promise that this is for your own good, and just as soon as you get settled, it’ll be a lot better. We’ve just got to get somewhere safe first.”

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Before Madigan could form a proper thank-you, Cross interrupted. “You don’t have to take time to explain things.” The redhead pointed at the nephilim. “His protection takes priority over his opinions of what we’re doing.” Apparently, his patience had finally run out. Madigan saw red. “All right, I’ve had it! Beat your chest all you want, you Neanderthal, but I will be consulted before we do anything major. I am not a doormat.” A muscle in Cross’s jaw ticked. In a calmer voice, he spoke. “I never claimed you were, Madigan. I apologize, but there will be instances when I don’t need you to argue with us. I will need you to act as ordered for your protection.” “For my sanity, I will not just agree to everything you say. Period.” “Do you have a death wish, mortal?” Cross’s voice was the epitome of calm and mature while Madigan had to resist the urge to stomp his foot in annoyance. “This is getting us nowhere,” Michel interrupted. He took Madigan’s hand. “Come on, cutey. Fly with me. I’ll make you forget that we’re bossy.” Madigan found himself smiling at the teasing tone that Michel used. The angel spread his pretty white-and-gold wings, letting Madigan look his fill. “What do you say?” Madigan inhaled sharply as the rich smell of rowan wafted up to his nostrils. A tiny shiver of pleasure went through him. “Sure thing.” He stepped into Michel’s arms, and the smell surrounded him. “Those look soft,” he murmured, reaching his hand out and touching the curve of the wing as it disappeared into Michel’s back. The angel visibly shuddered. “Hey now, cutey, don’t touch those unless you’re planning to spend the rest of the day flat on your back.” Michel shifted his grip and wrapped his massive arms around Madigan’s waist. Their bodies became flush together, and Madigan blushed as he felt the hard evidence of what his touch had done to the angel. I’m so going to hell.

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There has to be a place in the Bible that says that giving guardian angels hard-ons is definitely punishable by eternal hellfire. “Sorry,” he said aloud. The angel just chuckled against his temple. Madigan found his laid-back attitude utterly appealing. He didn’t make him nervous like the rest of them. “Not a problem, Madigan. You can get me frazzled later.” Michel winked. “Wrap your arms around my neck and hold on tight.” It was nice getting flirted with. Madigan nodded and did as he was bid. He spared a glance at Cross. The other angel’s expression was perfectly blank. “Dex, follow them out. Make sure that no one attacks from behind. The rest of us will surround them and ensure his safety. I’ll lead.” “What about Bren?” Michel asked as Cross took flight. “He’s outside cooling off,” Dex answered, leaping into the air and flapping his own wings. “He’ll fly beside you.” “You sure about that?” Michel shot back. “He will not abandon his mission.” Dex sounded really sure of himself. “I don’t care if he comes,” Madigan murmured. He still wasn’t ready to forget the snappy, smart-ass comments Bren had made when they’d first met. “Don’t judge him too harshly, cutey. He’s not used to socializing,” Michel chastised. He started pumping his muscular wings, creating a downdraft that felt like the wind that came off of a helicopter. Madigan’s stomach rolled and dropped to his feet as they rose the first three feet off the ground. Just like when an airplane took off, after the initial resistance, the flight wasn’t too bad. It was different because he could feel the cool wind on his skin as they moved faster than he thought should be physically possible considering the nearly vertical nature of the lift. Somehow though, it felt natural. Like something he’d experienced in a dream or something.

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After they’d cleared the lip of the cave and rose into the stillcloudy sky, Madigan felt like he could finally breathe again. He definitely liked the open space of the sky better. The other angels were close enough that he got the impression of movement if they swung in a little close, but for the most part he could barely see anything. Michel’s face was heavily shadowed. Fighting the resistance of the wind was getting harder the faster they moved, so Madigan finally gave up the fight and rested his head in the crook of Michel’s neck. The hands wrapped around him shifted slightly as if seeking a firmer grip. “You need me to move or something?” he spoke into Michel’s ear. “Wrap your legs around my waist. It’ll make it easier.” “You’re going to have to slow down.” Madigan squeaked as Michel’s arms shifted, and he felt like he was slipping. “I’m not going to drop you, Madigan. Put your legs around my waist.” The teasing note was back in the angel’s voice. Madigan sighed and used his forearms to get a little more vertical so that he could drag his legs up and wrap them securely around the angel’s muscled waist. It took a lot more effort than he’d originally imagined it would. “You okay?” Michel asked as he suddenly changed direction and made a sweeping turn to the right. Madigan swallowed a scream as his stomach dropped to his toes. After a few seconds, he leveled out and Madigan could once again breathe. “I–I’m okay,” he stuttered. He was getting cold now, and it had started to mist. His teeth began to chatter. The grip on Madigan’s torso tightened. “You don’t feel okay. Your temperature dropped. You’re cold?” “Don’t worry about it,” Madigan reassured, snuggling closer. The heat that was coming off Michel’s skin felt great. “We’re almost there.”

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Madigan shuddered as he inhaled the scent of rowan and pressed every inch of his body against Michel, crossing his ankles behind the angel’s back. He felt safe here. Even miles up in the night sky, clinging to the hard muscles of a creature that until tonight he didn’t think existed, and in fear for his life from other crazed angels, he felt safer than he ever had before. It made him wonder about the state of his sanity. Then they began the fast dive back toward the Earth, and Madigan couldn’t think about anything but his fear of falling. He screamed then, but it was dispersed by the howling wind as they plummeted.

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Chapter Three Cross watched the two entwined figures fall from the sky, Dex and Bren right after them. Even though he knew without a shadow of a doubt that his fellow guardians would take care of the most precious mission ever given to him, his heart plummeted all the same. They had come too close to losing Madigan tonight to the hunters. If Madigan had been seconds slower, they would’ve killed him before they could’ve reached him. The group landed with a soft thud in the front yard beside him. His eyes flicked over them. Bren had his signature I-don’t-give-a-care expression on his face, his arms crossed across his muscular chest. Michel and Madigan were still tangled. Madigan’s long, lean legs were wrapped snugly around Michel’s hips, just above the very prominent erection Michael’s angel was sporting. The lucky bastard. “Come along. We need to get out of the air,” Cross murmured, waving toward the front steps. The lights were already on in the house as if Madigan’s mother was waiting for their arrival. He wondered if his Lord Raphael had contacted the human. Michel’s grip didn’t loosen. That annoyed him for some reason. The urge to protect him apparently didn’t just extend to those angels desiring to kill Madigan but those desiring to mate with him as well. It was grossly inappropriate for any of his guardians to want him in that manner…wasn’t it? It was then he caught the slight tremor in Madigan’s limbs. Cross frowned. Was he afraid? “We’ll take care of you, Madigan. Be reassured that our powers will protect you no matter the situation.”

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Madigan finally lifted his head from the crook of Michel’s neck. He gave a shaky smile. “I’m not worried about that. Just cold.” He put his head back into its newfound niche. Cross glanced up. It was a little chilly for a human. Angels ran a little hotter than their mortal counterparts. The damp air probably wasn’t helping. He cursed softly. He should’ve thought of that. “Way to go, oh great leader,” Bren sneered, climbing the steps ahead of them. “You’ve nearly frozen our charge to death, and it’s only day one.” “There wasn’t exactly time—” “Time to grab a blanket? A jacket? Are you sure there wasn’t time, or did you just forget?” Bren interrupted. Cross gritted his teeth at the insolent tone. Lucifer’s angel threw a wicked grin over his shoulder. He was messing with him again. The front door swung open without preamble, and all the angels tensed. A small, petite woman all but threw herself out the door and onto the slick porch. She skidded on the damp stone and tackled Bren on the third step. They both fell backward into the yard. Bren seemed completely stunned as he landed on his back with the small woman on top of him. “I’m so sorry!” the woman squeaked, scrambling to get off of him without rolling all over his wings which were bent behind him at odd angles. She floundered for a few moments, constantly apologizing as she did. Michel blatantly laughed at Bren’s thunderous expression. Even Dex cracked a smile at the picture. “Get off me, you clumsy mortal!” Bren snarled. He used his wings to push himself and the human into a seated position and then used his arms to set her off of him. He rolled to his feet with an indignant expression plastered on his face. “I’m so sorry!” the woman said again. She had to be Madigan’s mother, even if they looked nothing alike. Her eyes slid across all of them until they lit on Michel. “Madi!” she squealed, scrambling toward him.

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Madigan pushed on Michel’s shoulders, and the angel eased his grip on the human so that he could slide to his feet. He had the good sense to blush lightly as Madigan slid down and encountered the hard length of Michel’s interest. Cross crossed his arms over his chest and glared openly. He caught Michel’s eye, and Michael’s angel took a hasty step back. It was going to be a real challenge making sure that the other angels kept their hands off. Madigan’s appeal was undeniable. The smell alone was enough to make them all painfully aroused. Maturing nephilim emitted a pheromone that drew angels to them for mating. Even human males reacted to the smell like it was a drug. He didn’t know what Lord Raphael had been thinking by assigning Madigan a group of angels that not only would react to Madigan’s scent but shared his sexual preferences as well. “Mom!” Madigan caught his mother in his arms, holding her tight. “When Raphael came to me and told me you were in trouble, I was so scared that they wouldn’t get you here,” she babbled. “I’m okay, Mom. I promise I’m okay. They took care of me. Aw, Mom. Don’t cry.” Madigan hugged his mother tightly, his eyes closed. Cross glanced at the sky, trying to read the energy of the atmosphere. Noncorporeal angels flitted back and forth like darting insects. They were the messengers, guardians of a different sort. None of them were harmful. Still, they needed to get out of the open air. While the angels after Madigan were slower because of their physical form, they could be heading this way, and Cross did not want to risk being seen. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but let’s go inside,” Cross said quickly. He ushered them all up the steps and into the house. As soon as he crossed the threshold, he felt a pulse of divine power. Raphael. He took a right in the entryway and followed the hallway. “Where the hell is he going?” Bren’s voice rose up behind him. “Just follow him, jackass,” Michel said.

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The sounds of footfalls followed him down the hallway. He followed the power signature of the Archangel into a large room with French doors. It was a deep-wine-colored room with rich hardwood floors and a large, plush sectional arranged in an L in the center of the room. That wasn’t what captured the angel’s attention, though. It was the decorations and statuary that crowded the walls on all sides that filled him with quiet awe. Archangel Raphael in all visible forms decorated the walls in the forms of statues, bas-reliefs, paintings, engravings, prints, and tapestries. The presence of the Archangel saturated the room with feelings of healing and comfort. He’d been here often. “So which one does he look like?” Madigan asked, appearing by his side. He glanced down. Raphael’s son was not much taller than his mother. He couldn’t have been more than five eight to Cross’s six four. He had all of Raphael’s beauty though. Same rust-colored hair, same creamy skin, same large, dark green eyes. However, Madigan did not have Raphael’s towering stature and super masculine, dominant appeal. He seemed almost delicate. Perhaps it was his humanity that made him so. There was something about him that awakened every protective instinct Cross possessed. “Cross? Which one does he look like?” Madigan repeated. Cross blinked. He’d been so busy staring at Madigan he’d forgotten to answer. His gaze flickered around the room. “None of them do him justice. You would receive a better picture of him by looking in the mirror. Though, this room does feel like him. He has come here often. His energy saturates this space.” “I look like him?” Madigan seemed surprised by it. Cross didn’t understand why. He obviously didn’t look like his mother. His naïve expression was adorable. Before he could stop himself, he reached out and traced the boy’s jaw with his index finger. “Yes,” he said. “You look a lot like him.” Someone cleared their throat behind them. Cross mentally shook his head and drew his hand back. Madigan’s pheromones were affecting him more than he’d

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originally thought. It seemed his men weren’t the only ones he would have to watch. He turned and found Madigan’s mother staring at him with an incredibly knowing expression. He’d been one of Raphael’s warriors for thousands of years, and yet one quelling look from the small woman had him taking a step back. She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Please, everyone sit down. The sectional should be big enough. It’s what Madi’s father uses when he visits. The seats are wider to accommodate you wings.” She pointed to a small, wing-backed chair across from the sectional that Cross hadn’t noticed before. “You sit there, Madi. These boys are looking at you like you’re a steak and they’re a pack of wild dogs.” Cross sputtered, “I beg your pardon! I do not look at him like that.” Bren sniggered. “Wanna bet, chief? Just a second ago you looked like you wanted to lick him like an ice-cream cone. Tsk, tsk. What’s Raphael going to say when he sees you drooling over his boy?” Madigan blushed, and Cross growled. “Shut up, Bren. One more smart comment and I will drag you before your lord and have you beaten.” “Oh just admit it. You want him,” Bren snapped. “Just like Michel has been sporting wood for the kid since we arrived.” “You vulgar piece of trash!” Cross rumbled, taking a menacing step forward. Anger blazed hot in his chest. He’d had it up to his eyeballs with Bren’s attitude. Ever since they’d met up in the divine hall to go to Madigan’s apartment, he’d been a complete and utter bastard. He reached for his divine weapon, and it blazed to life in his hands, pouring from his wrists where he housed it. Bren did the same. Madigan yelped and scrambled back away from them, dragging his mother along with him. “Bring it!” Bren shouted. “Enough!” Dex yelled, stepping in front of Bren. Michel mimicked him by stepping in front of Cross.

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“You’re scaring Madigan, Cross. You told us all from the beginning not to startle him. The weaponry is freaking him out. Lose it.” Michel’s calm voice was logical. Cross knew that. He just didn’t have to like it. “I don’t like the prick either, Cross. But now is not the time.” Cross nodded. His gaze flicked to Bren, who already put his weapon away and had his arms crossed over his chest, that same smart-ass expression plastered on his face. It was so arrogant. What was his problem? Then he saw what. Bren’s gaze went to the corner where Madigan and his mother were huddled. His eyes softened and a longing filled his gaze. Huh. That made sense. So he was also attracted to the boy. “Come on out, Madigan,” Bren coaxed. “We would never harm you.” Madigan glared and held on to his mother even tighter. “No offense, but you started it. So forgive me if I don’t find your word very trustworthy. I’ve had it with winged guys pulling out WMDs at the slightest provocation.” “You have my word, Madigan. Nothing is going to hurt you or yours,” Cross offered. He sighed as Madigan’s forest gaze lit on him skeptically. He didn’t blame the human. He really didn’t. He just wished he trusted them more. Madigan’s mother stood, shaking off her son’s arms. She looked madder than one of the Seraphim after a group of young angels refused to get into proper formation for a presentation to the Almighty. “Raphael told me you’d watch over my boy. That you were guardian angels handpicked by the archangels to help him.” Cross opened his mouth to reassure her, but the look on her face stopped him. “I’m not finished.” Her voice raised a notch in volume. “You almost let the other angels kill him, you let him freeze on the flight over here, you’ve explained nothing to him about the situation he’s in, and you’re scaring him half to death. So far Heaven’s best does not look the least bit efficient. Are you in charge?” The question was to

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Cross. After a moment, he nodded in embarrassment. “You are doing a piss-poor job of it.” “Mom!” Madigan jumped in. “No, Madigan. Your mother is correct,” Cross said. He went to one knee and bowed his head. “Forgive me for failing your son, Raphael’s Consort. In the future, I will endeavor to provide better for him.” His sense of honor would accept nothing else. The mission had not started off in the smoothest fashion. “Good. See that you do.” Her manicured nail pointed to Bren. “And you”—he tensed as if preparing to be struck—“Stop pitching a fit because you’re jealous. My Madi doesn’t like when men act like Neanderthals around him, and you won’t win any points for being a jerk.” Bren blushed scarlet. “Now, everyone, please, sit down. Madi needs to relax, and we all have a lot of explaining to do.”

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Chapter Four Madigan shivered and pulled the blanket that Michel had wrapped around his shoulders tighter to his body. He couldn’t believe that he was sitting in a chair across from four angels as his mother flitted from angel to angel, taking drink orders. It seemed so domestic. He rubbed his tired eyes. He wished this whole night had never happened. He wanted off this cracked-out roller coaster. “Madi, I’m making you a cup of coffee. It’ll be done in just a minute,” his mother said. He nodded sluggishly. Coffee. Coffee would be good. She disappeared from the angel room, and he listened as her footsteps echoed off the wood floors until she hit the tile in the kitchen. He knew the sounds of this house by heart. It was comforting. At least that hadn’t changed. A grin spread across his face as he had a realization. He’d always wondered why the hallways in the house were so wide. Now he knew. They had to accommodate wings. He giggled at the thought. “Are you all right, Madigan?” Cross asked. He was the one sitting closest to him on the sectional. His brown eyes were filled with concern. “I don’t know,” Madigan answered honestly. He rubbed his temples. “I’ve got a headache, and I’m tired.” Cross stood from the couch and crossed the three-foot space between them. He took Madigan’s hands in his own, and Madigan looked up into his face in surprise. “What are you doing?” “Hush for a moment and you’ll see.” Then his hands started to glow. Madigan jumped as warmth spread from the angel’s hands and engulfed his.

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“What is that?” he asked. “Your father’s choir are healers. It’s one of my powers.” Cross closed his eyes, seemingly concentrating on his task. Amazingly, after only a few more seconds, Madigan’s headache waned and his tiredness eased a bit. “Better?” Cross asked. “Much. Thank you.” The angel went back and sat on the couch. His mom came in with a couple glasses and a longneck bottle of beer. “Here you go, boys,” she said, handing each angel a beverage. Michel took the beer and sipped it. Madigan’s mouth hung open in surprise. “Angels drink?” he asked. “Uh, yeah,” Michel said with a smile, taking another swig. “Speak for yourself. Wouldn’t touch the stuff,” Bren grumped. His mom handed him a glass of what appeared to be milk. Now that was weird. Madigan had expected him to be the drinker. “You want some chocolate to go into that, hon?” Mom asked as Bren took a long gulp. So it had been milk. “No, thanks. I like it better without.” This was all too weird. Madigan watched as she handed Dex a glass of sweet tea and Cross a glass of water. She disappeared out the door again, probably to go get the coffee she’d promised him. “I know this is all very strange to you, Madigan,” Cross began. Madigan let a strangled laugh escape. “You have no idea how strange this all seems.” “You are not the first nephilim to go through this sort of thing. Granted, the protection you’ve been given is fierce, but that is because your father cares about you very much.” Cross’s voice was soothing, but Madigan wasn’t in the mood to be placated. “For someone who cares so much, he hasn’t done a great job of showing up and playing dad.” “He didn’t want to draw the attentions of the hunters to you. He hoped that you would be able to remain under the radar for as long as possible. He stayed away for your protection, and when he found out

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that you still needed it, he sent us,” Cross persisted. “He picked me out of his choir because I’m one of the only healers who is also a warrior.” He nodded in Michel’s direction. “I may not belong to the Archangel of War himself, but I can hold my own.” “Awesome. Glad to be surrounded by such awesome studs. I’m not that hard of a sell, Cross. I get it. You guys are badasses. Now what?” Madigan just wanted to know when he could get his life back. Everything from the past eight hours needed to hurry up and run its course. It was then his mother decided to come back into the room. She handed him a steamy cup of coffee already mixed to his likings and sat in the middle of the angels with two on each side. She looked completely at ease there. His day really could not get weirder. “Now you get to hole up in this house until your other guardian Yuri finds the answer to a temporary means of protection.” She answered his question without missing a beat. The angels all turned and looked at her in unison. She smiled at them. “Raphael gave me the plan before you all got here so that I could make my own plans.” “Why did he not contact Dex?” Cross demanded. He seemed disturbed at being left out of the loop. Welcome to my friggin’ life, Red. “It’s dangerous for him to communicate with any of you right now. The hunters have spies even in the upper realms now, according to Raph.” Good lord, my mother just called the Archangel of healing “Raph.” “So he told me to pass on his messages to you all so that it’s less likely to be intercepted. It’s rather like a James Bond movie, you know?” The angels stared at her blankly, and his mother pressed on. “He’s declared this house as a Den of Sanctuary. He said you’d all knew what that meant.” The angels nodded. “A Den of Sanctuary is a place where no divine battle or punishment may be fought or given out. No immortal can tread there without express permission of the owner of the property,” Michel supplied. Madigan’s face must’ve scrunched up in confusion yet

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again. At least there was one angel in the house who was willing to supply him with details. “It’s sort of a no-man’s-land for immortals, a place of absolute neutrality.” Mom nodded and continued. “He wants you all to stay here until Yuri figures out something that can let you move around a bit easier. The bakery is just going to have to be closed until you can get back to work.” “Where are you going to be?” Madigan asked. His mother had run that bakery many years before he’d joined on. It should’ve been no problem for her to continue to do so. “Well, your father is afraid that the hunters will try and use me to get access to the sanctuary, so he’s advised that I go stay with your aunt and uncle in Chicago until you’ve got everything figured out.” “But, Mom—” Madigan protested. “I’m going, Madi. There is no reason that I shouldn’t. It’s safer that way. Besides, I’ve been meaning to take a vacation for the past ten years and haven’t managed it yet. It’s going to be just fine. You’ll see. Your father has thought of everything.” “Everything about how to keep me locked up in a cage for God only knows how long!” Madigan snapped. He just loved how everyone was just making decisions about his well-being without consulting him. His mom’s eyes narrowed. “Madigan Raphael Parker, you better check that attitude of yours at the door.” His jaw clenched. He hated when she used her mom voice with him. After a minute of his silence, she smiled. “It’ll be good for you to get away from your old mom for a while, honey. You may even find a young man for yourself out of the ones your father sent. Who knows? Maybe he was matchmaking when he picked out these boys to watch over you, hmm?” Every male in the room started blushing. Madigan knew his own face was scarlet. “Mom!” he groused. She laughed. Madigan took a sip out of his coffee cup and stared at the floor. He couldn’t believe she’d just said

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that. He was never going to be able to look at the angels again. It was so embarrassing. “I’m having Rachel go out to the shop in the morning and put a sign on the door. Her husband Richard is coming this week and making the deliveries for us and bringing over your car in case you need it. My car is going to stay parked at the airport until I get back.” She stood and came over to Madigan’s chair. She leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. “You behave while I’m gone. I’ll have my cell phone on me, so call if you need anything.” “You’re leaving right now?” Madigan asked incredulously. “Of course, honey. When did you think I was leaving? No point in putting it off.” She petted his head. “I’ve already got my bags packed.” “Won’t it be expensive to leave your car at the airport for so long?” Madigan asked desperately. He really didn’t want to be left alone in this house with all the angels. He needed someone familiar to be here to balance out the overload of testosterone. “Your father has everything taken care of, Madi. No worries.” She turned to the angels. “You better take good care of my Madi. Do you understand me?” They all nodded solemnly like they were giving their oaths or something. Give me a break. “Good. Then I’m off. I’ll call you when I get to Chicago, sweetie. Love you.” She gave him a tight hug around his neck and yet another kiss on his cheek. “You take care.” “Love you, too, Mom,” Madigan said tightly. His chest hurt. He was going to miss her. They hadn’t spent much time apart since he’d come back from college. She was more friend than mom at times. “Be safe.” “Always am, sweet boy. Always am.” She winked and walked out of the angel room, closing the French doors behind her. Madigan sagged in his chair when he heard the front door shut. He felt so lost. This was the biggest game of “hurry up and wait” he’d ever had the displeasure of playing.

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“You should go to bed, Madigan.” Cross, as usual, was the first one to speak. “You do look tired, cutey,” Michel added. Madigan nodded. “Yeah. I think I’ll do that. Maybe when I wake up this will all be just one big fucked-up dream.” Bren snorted. “Sorry, babe. Hate to bust your bubble, but you couldn’t dream up something this fucked up.” Dex slapped him on the back of the head, eliciting a growl from the dark-haired angel. Yeah, bed was definitely needed. He couldn’t process anything else tonight. He managed to climb the stairs and pour himself into his queensize bed that he’d used as a teenager in his old room, not even noting if anything had been changed around or not. It all looked the same on a cursory glance. Same dark blue wall paint. Same computer desk. Same bookshelf. New comforter. Weird. He yawned and stripped off his clothes, throwing them haphazardly in every direction as he did so. When he was down to his boxers, he climbed into the welcoming embrace of his sheets, sighing at the feeling of relief that passed through him as he did so. It would be nice to finally sleep. Maybe it was a dream. He could only hope.

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Chapter Five He gasped as Cross’s tongue passed over his nipples, lapping at each in turn before continuing its trail down his torso. The slick muscle traced his stomach, swirling around his belly button before sliding lower. Madigan groaned at the incredible feeling of it. The angel’s deep candy-apple-red wings spread out behind him, tempting Madigan to touch those soft feathers, just once. He couldn’t reach from this angle though. Dammit. Then he quit worrying about wings because Cross’s hand closed over the tightly drawn balls underneath his very prominent erection. Madigan wondered briefly when he’d gotten naked before his hips started to surge upward, seeking friction against his hard member. “Cross!” he panted. The angel’s head descended, swallowing the tip of Madigan’s erection and suckling gently. “Oh, Christ!” The angel pushed forward, sucking him into the back of his throat. Inarticulate sounds of need were coming out in regular intervals from Madigan’s throat. The hot, wet feeling of being surrounded by Cross’s mouth was freaking incredible. He never wanted it to stop. “That is a beautiful sight.” Madigan’s eyes popped open at the unfamiliar voice. Bren stood beside his bed, staring down at the two of them. His eyes widened, and a blush stole over his face. Cross didn’t seem to notice anything because he continued to suck Madigan like he was the last lollipop on Earth. “Hmm.” Bren’s dark eyes sparkled with mischief. “You want him to suck that pretty cock of yours a lot, don’t you?” Madigan panted and nodded. There was no reason to lie. Cross grabbed his hips and

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pulled them up to give him better access to the cock he was devouring. Madigan whimpered. “You don’t like me much, huh?” Bren asked. He reached out and pushed the hair that had started to cling to Madigan’s sticky skin away from his face. Madigan hesitated. It wasn’t that he disliked Bren. He was just so damn prickly. Bren nodded in understanding. “I see. I’ll work on it. No promises though. Okay, bright eyes?” Madigan gave a tentative smile. At the same moment, Cross started deep throating him, and Madigan gave another groan of want. He blinked, and suddenly Bren was just as naked as Cross and he were. “That’s so pretty, bright eyes. So damn pretty. So damn hot.” The dark-haired angel hesitated. “Can I kiss you, Madigan? Will that be all right?” Madigan’s lust spiked impossibly then. He’d never been in a situation like this with humans, let alone with two angels. He beckoned him closer, and Bren obliged, sliding into bed beside him. “Just a kiss. Okay, bright eyes?” Madigan shook his head. “I want to suck you.” He found himself saying the words with no idea where they came from. Bren’s eyes widened in surprise an instant before his expression turned to one of pure, unadulterated lust. “You sure?” the angel asked. “Yeah,” Madigan panted. “Want you in my mouth so bad. Want to taste you.” Bren rolled so that he was straddling Madigan’s head, his knees on either side of Madigan’s shoulders. Madigan licked his lips. With one hand, Bren steadied his cock so that Madigan could get his mouth lined up. The head pushed past Madigan’s lips, and the salty hint of precum hit his tongue. He groaned at the taste of salt and man that came along with it.

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“Jesus, bright eyes!” Bren shouted as his head fell back in bliss. Cross started working Madigan faster, and Madigan’s whole body trembled with the effort not to come. His eyes glanced over to see Dex and Michel in the doorway, watching. He should’ve been embarrassed by being caught sucking and getting sucked by his guardians, but their presence just seemed to turn him on more. Without preamble, he watched as Michel got on his knees and undid the button on Dex’s jeans, pulling out a magnificent, thick rod that was just as big and overwhelming as the rest of him. Then Madigan lost sight of it as Michel’s mouth covered the whole thing from base to tip. Dex and Madigan groaned in unison. The visual alone was enough to make him want to come. “You’re such a naughty boy, bright eyes,” Bren panted, fucking his cock between Madigan’s suckling lips. “Such a naughty boy wanting us like this.” Bren gave a strangled moan. “Oh shit. Sorry, bright eyes. Coming. Coming so fucking hard.” Hot, salty spunk hit Madigan’s tongue at the same time the angel spoke and his own hips surged upward into Cross’s mouth. He screamed around Bren’s hard length as his own orgasm was torn from him. The visual and physical overload was too much. His body jerked, emptying into Cross’s hot mouth. He sucked harder on Bren’s cock, needing the anchor to keep him from floating away into sheer drunken bliss. “Let go, bright eyes,” Bren encouraged, cupping his cheek. His expression was the kindest Madigan had ever seen it. “Let go.” He did. His mind swirling as the room started to spin. Then he knew nothing else as everything went black. **** Madigan woke up gasping in the middle of a hell of an orgasm. He gripped his spurting arousal underneath the covers as he shot helplessly over his tight fist and onto the pristine sheets. He cursed

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softly. He had never had a wet dream that was elaborate enough to include four other men. What the hell was wrong with him? Angelic maturity my ass. So much for all of last night being a dream. He sat up, looking for something to clean up with. He sighed. Of course there wasn’t anything handy. Damn. He’d have to do a wash today. He gave up trying to find something and just wiped the sticky evidence of his dream onto a clean section of sheet. He’d probably kicked off the comforter and his boxers at some point last night when it had gotten too hot. He finished wiping off the best he could and determined that he should definitely get a shower before he wandered on downstairs to see what the angels were doing. “Morning.” Madigan’s head snapped up to see Bren sitting on the floor in a corner on the other side of the room. He looked like he’d just woken up, his eyes looked hazy and his expression groggy. Awareness zinged up Madigan’s body. Despite the fact that he’d just came, he felt himself start to harden right back up. “What are you doing in my room?” Madigan asked, bunching the regrettably soiled sheets over his hips to hide his growing erection. The angel didn’t answer him. Instead, he stood, adjusting his own morning wood through the denim of his jeans. He eyed Madigan’s bare chest, and the human had to resist the urge to throw the covers back and welcome the angel between his thighs. He shook his head. What the hell was he thinking? That dream had really screwed with his brain. Besides, Bren had made it super clear that he didn’t want to be here. “One of us has to be in the room with you at all times. We took shifts.” Bren finally spoke. He still let his eyes linger longer than was appropriate over Madigan’s unclad body. Their eyes met as the angel’s gaze finally reached Madigan’s no doubt blushing face. If Madigan didn’t know better, he could’ve sworn that Bren knew what he’d been dreaming about. His eyes were just a little too aware and a little too knowing. Madigan looked away.

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“I’ll turn my back so that you can dress. Put on a robe or something. You’ll need a shower before you go downstairs,” Bren ordered. Madigan’s temper spiked. He really hated being told what to do. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” he asked defiantly. The dark-haired angel raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow and grinned. It wasn’t a nice grin. It was a grin that said he knew all of Madigan’s dirty secrets and was not above using them as blackmail. “Because if you go downstairs smelling like sex and sporting a hard-on you’re going to cause a fight. There is no way four warriors wouldn’t tear each other apart to get to an aroused nephilim ready to fuck. Trust me. Our civilized instincts only go so far.” Madigan blushed to the roots of his red hair. “Y–You seem to be doing just fine,” he stammered. Two long strides brought Bren to the edge of his bed, and he leaned down over Madigan, crowding him, his mouth inches from Madigan’s lips. “Don’t push me, nephilim. I’m holding on by a thread as is.” Bren crossed the last few centimeters between them and claimed Madigan’s mouth in a surprisingly gentle kiss. Madigan couldn’t help the little mewling noise that escaped him as he got a taste of the angel. He tasted clean and sweet. Madigan’s hands crept up his shoulders, threading through the dark locks of hair that was cut just long enough for him to get a handhold. They stayed that way for endless moments, their lips pressing and sliding against one another. His tongue darted out along Bren’s lips, trying to coax the angel into a deeper kiss. Bren jerked back, panting. “Damn, bright eyes. You test an angel’s patience.” He adjusted himself. That erection looked painful. It probably didn’t feel good pressed up against the hard metal teeth of the zipper. Madigan licked his lips. Bren cursed. “You’re going to be trouble. You know that? Big trouble.” He turned, presenting his back to the human. “For the sake of your virtue and my blue balls, please get dressed.”

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Madigan threw his legs over the side of the bed and looked at Bren’s back. It took him a minute to figure out what was wrong. “Holy crap. Where are your wings?” He crossed the room and put his hands on the black tattoo that covered his back instead. It looked like it was written in some sort of Arabic script or something, but he couldn’t be sure. Bren hissed at the contact and jerked his shoulder out of Madigan’s hands. “That is equivalent to you letting me fuck that tight mouth of yours. Stop it,” Bren snapped. He was shaking. Was he really that close to losing control? Madigan swayed closer. It would be a gorgeous sight to watch Bren out of control. He was so strong. So virile. Madigan bet he’d be sore for days after a pounding from him. Bren let out a strangled noise. “I can smell you getting more aroused. Madigan, think about it. You don’t even like me. You sure as hell don’t know me. You sure you want me balls-deep inside of you? Think with something other than your dick, bright eyes.” Madigan blinked, blushing. Embarrassment overwhelmed lust, and he scrambled backward, nearly tripping over the clothes he’d thrown off the night before. He pulled on his jeans without bothering with underwear and pulled on a shirt that had been sitting beside his the lamp on his nightstand. It was obviously three sizes too big but whatever. He frowned and sniffed the shirt. It smelled like detergent and angel. His eyes shot to Bren’s still-turned back. It smelled like him. “The wings go away when we don’t need them. The glyphs on our backs were put there by our archangels so that we can hide them from humans when we’re corporeal.” The explanation seemed to be a way for Bren to fill the silence. He was still tense and trembling. Madigan ached to go to him and take away that tension. He wanted to wrap himself around like a living blanket, but that wasn’t logical. Bren was right. He didn’t know him, and he didn’t really like him. So why did he feel the urge to go there? “You decent?” Bren asked after a few minutes of silence.

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“Yeah,” Madigan said. He was still battling with his impulse to go the angel, but it was getting easier as the seconds ticked by. Bren turned, and his eyes widened as he took in Madigan’s outfit. Wings sprang from his back, and his nostrils flared. Madigan took a step back in fear. “What did I do?” he asked in confusion. “Go, Madigan.” Bren spat through gritted teeth. “Go while you can.” He looked like he was in pain. Madigan frowned and stepped toward the angel. Maybe something was wrong. “No!” Bren shouted, backpedaling into the wall. It shook with the force of the angel hitting it. “Just, God, go, bright eyes. You’re wearing my clothes.” He shut his eyes and clenched his jaw. “You don’t understand. Please, just go.” Madigan was starting to get freaked out by the desperate note in Bren’s voice. Without another word, he ran to the door and slammed it behind him, taking off toward the kitchen. The sound of something smashing up against the door and an inhuman snarl followed him downstairs. What the hell had just happened? It wasn’t until he took the corner and swung into the kitchen that he realized something. Bren had called him “bright eyes” just like in his dream.

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Chapter Six Bren locked himself in the bathroom adjacent to the boy’s bedroom, trying to calm himself. He hadn’t meant to lose it like that. He certainly hadn’t meant to scare the living daylights out of Madigan. He sighed and looked at himself in the mirror. He had a wild look in his pitch-black eyes, and his tanned muscles were smeared with a light sheen of sweat. This was all his fault, of course. He never should’ve gone into Madigan’s dream uninvited. A few hours into his rest Madigan had started making little noises in his sleep and shifting restlessly beneath the covers. Bren had suspected that the boy might have been having a nightmare, so he’d just walked into his dream world, prepared to fight whatever bad dreams that he was experiencing. He’d hoped to make up for his bad attitude a little bit by playing the hero that Cross was oh so good at playing. The noble idiot hid behind his mountain of morality better than anyone Bren had ever met. They were complete opposites in that regard, but Madigan reacted far better to the noble Cross than to Bren’s naturally snarky persona. It seemed fated that Madigan and Cross would hit it off. The both exuded Raphael’s comforting presence whether they realized it or not. Madigan’s mom might’ve been more right than she realized when she’d voiced that Raphael might be playing matchmaker. It had pissed Bren off to see them cuddled up in the cavern like that. The rest of them hadn’t even had a chance, and God knew that Lucifer’s choir got the least amount of chances for happiness out of all the choirs. When his lord had asked for volunteers to go guard Raphael’s son, Bren had not been keen on going. Then Lucifer had touched the

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dream pool and brought up an image of the beautiful man who the Archangel Raphael had sired. Madigan had taken his breath away, and Bren had made himself a pledge that he’d make the man his. He’d been a bastard last night, and he knew it. He just wasn’t good at hiding what he was feeling like any of the others. Even Michel, the prick, had been able to resist his impulses to mount Madigan when they were flying together. The boy didn’t seem to realize the intense waves of “fuck me” he was throwing off. Against his better judgment, Bren had followed him into the dream world, and what he saw there gave him some hope. Madigan was not nearly as rigid and mainstream as Bren had first thought. He was free and uninhibited and so damn sexual he’d nearly come from the look in the boy’s eyes right then. He hadn’t been surprised by the fact that Cross had been between his legs in Madigan’s fantasy. But he’d been absolutely shocked when Madigan had incorporated the rest of them into his lovemaking. Bren hadn’t expected to enjoy himself quite as much as he had when he’d gone in there. He even found himself appreciating the other angels’ beauty along with Madigan as they’d sought their mutual satiation together. It had been wonderful and awful all at once because he knew that it would never happen in reality. “You need to get it together, Brenen,” he told his reflection. “He is off-limits. You do not want an Archangel on your ass for jumping his son’s.” But he’d been so responsive. So damn hot for them. For him. Even after he’d woke. Bren had seen the struggle to remain away had been as strong as the urge to bolt. That torn expression had worn on his control faster than anything. He pushed his jeans down his hips and kicked out of them. He needed a little relief. Orgasming in a dream was not enough for him. Angels were the masters of the multiple O, and Bren would need at least one more before he was truly able to relax. He turned the knob on the shower and adjusted the temperature to something steamy. He

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climbed in and leaned back into the spray. It felt good. He wrapped his hand around his turgid length. Hmm…now it felt better. **** “Bren.” Michel’s voice made him tense as he came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his hips. Great. This was just what he needed. There had always been a tension between the Archangel Michael’s angels and the lord Lucifer’s angels ever since the fall. It was no different between Michel and Bren. “What do you want?” Bren asked crossly. He didn’t want to deal with him today. At all. Ever. “Are you okay?” Michel’s inquiry surprised him. What did he care? “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” Bren replied. He was suspicious of any of the angels who were being nice to him. Michel most of all. Michel’s glittering, blue eyes regarded him, judged him. “Madigan said you were acting strangely before he came down to breakfast. He’s worried about you.” Bren’s heart tripped over itself. Really? He was worried about him? “I told him I’d come check on you,” Michel finished. He paused for a minute as if debating with himself. “It was his scent, wasn’t it?” Bren’s head snapped up, his dark eyes clashing with Michel’s light ones. “Yeah,” he said tightly. Michel nodded. “He smells like sex and forbidden fruit.” He shuddered visibly, and Bren couldn’t help but to agree completely. “He’s wearing your shirt. Smells like you. Was that the trigger?” Again Bren nodded. He lost it when Madigan had put his clothes on, marking himself with Bren’s scent. It was an old possessive instinct that had demanded instant satisfaction when he’d done so. If he would’ve touch Bren, even with his fingertips, the angel wouldn’t have been able to deny the impulse to fuck the nephilim stupid.

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Michel’s hand patted his shoulder in a friendly manner. “You did good denying him, Bren.” Bren raised an eyebrow. Was Michel complimenting him? “I didn’t know if it was a good idea to have one of Lucifer’s on this mission with us, but I do now. You protected him even from yourself. I don’t know if I would’ve said no in the same situation. So, good job.” “You would’ve denied yourself,” Bren protested in the only manner he knew how. He wasn’t good at exchanging compliments. It just wasn’t done in his choir. Michel chuckled. “I doubt it, my man. I almost lost it when he came down to breakfast, and he wasn’t even sexed up anymore.” The hand that had been on Bren’s shoulder slid up to stroke his hair. He and Michel were the same height, so looking into each other’s eyes had the strangest dizzying effect on Bren. He liked being petted like this. It was his biggest weakness. He loved having someone run their fingers through his hair. His heart pounded. What was wrong with him today? His eyes flicked to Michel’s pulse. Was it a little faster than it was a moment ago? He swallowed hard, suddenly aware that he was in nothing but a towel. Which was ridiculous because angels weren’t typically that freaked out by nudity. It was their natural state after all. Michel snatched his hand back, and just like that the tension broke. Michael’s angel cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Sorry. I guess he’s affecting me more than I realize. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you downstairs.” “Sure,” Bren replied automatically as Michel turned away. Today couldn’t get any stranger. And it had just started.

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Chapter Seven Madigan began washing dishes as soon as all the angels had finished eating. He’d put aluminum foil over Bren’s pancakes and stuck them in the microwave to keep until he made his way downstairs. He’d heard the shower shut off upstairs, but it would still probably be a while if he was anything like Madigan. He was still in disbelief over the fact that he was going to be playing house with a bunch of angels until one of them figured out how to give him proper protection. He rinsed another white plate and set it in the drainer to dry. “Need some help?” Cross asked as he sidled up beside Madigan at the sink. Madigan gave the angel a smile. “Sure,” he answered. He reached in a drawer and extricated a towel and threw it at him. “I’ll rinse. You dry and put away. Okay?” He still didn’t understand how his mother didn’t have a dishwasher. It was the oddest thing considering how much and how often she cooked. He watched Cross out of the corner of his eye as he continued the tedious work of dishwashing. The angel expertly toweled off the utensils, cups, and plates before quickly finding where they went and tucked them away. “So how do angels learn how to do dishes?” Madigan asked before he could help himself. Cross smiled softly at him and took the plate out of his hands. “The same way humans do I suppose. We’re taught.” “Do they have a special school that they teach angels who come to earth how to act or whatever?”

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The angel laughed. The sound was good. Deeply masculine. It sounded like something Madigan would love to listen to while laying horizontal in bed late at night. An image of Bren popped into his mind. Yeah, maybe he could be there, too. Madigan shook his head to clear it. Since when had he turned into such a slut? Jeez. He thought about his dream. Okay. Angelic puberty. That was what he was blaming everything on from here on out. “Are you blushing, Madigan?” Cross teased, bumping his hip. That only made him blush harder. He couldn’t drag his mind out of the gutter around these guys. All of them were beautiful, strong, the epitome of what was sure to get him panting like a cat in heat in no time flat. “Just dry your dishes, mister,” Madigan commanded, waving a fork in his direction. The angel continued chuckling. Once they were finished and Madigan dried off his hands, he turned to the angel. “You guys want to watch a movie or something?” His mom had DIRECTV so it wasn’t like there weren’t fifty million channels for them to surf. He could even order a pay-per-view movie if they found something that they liked. “So long as we stay within the house, we can do whatever you wish,” Cross said agreeably. He was awfully accommodating. It was kind of nice. Most of his old boyfriends in college had been super masculine but bossy as hell. It was the type he most often attracted. Though Cross had his moments, for the most part he was very thoughtful from what Madigan had seen. Cross whistled, and the other angels all came into the kitchen. It was a lot of muscle to be housed in one kitchen. Madigan resisted the urge to purr. “How does a movie sound to you all? Madigan has suggested it to be a good way to occupy ourselves for a couple of hours.” Cross sounded really authoritative, like he dared anyone to argue with him over the matter.

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“Can I get something to eat first, your royal red ass?” Bren quipped. His hair was still damp from the shower, and his clothes stuck to his back where it was still damp. Madigan smiled at his grumpy tone. It was starting to grow on him. The dark-haired angel’s gaze locked onto Madigan. “Hi, bright eyes.” The greeting was almost shy. “Hi, Bren.” Madigan sidestepped Cross and opened the microwave to pull out the plate of pancakes he’d saved. “Here’s some breakfast. It should still be warm. They’re blueberry pancakes. You like?” Bren nodded and took the plate, a small smile playing on his lips. “Sure. Thanks, bright eyes.” “Dex makes good pancakes,” Madigan said brightly. “Do you need syrup?” “Thanks,” Bren offered. He glanced at Dex. “You cook?” Gabriel’s angel gave a curt nod. “When I have to.” “He’s good,” Madigan protested. “Don’t let him fool you.” “Please, Madigan. I am mediocre at best,” Dex grumbled. “No way! I saw all the extra stuff you put into the bowl. I know a cook when I see one.” Madigan grabbed a hold of one of Dex’s hands and squeezed. He could tell that the angel was embarrassed, but he didn’t understand why. “You better watch out. I might use you as a kitchen hand once I can get back to work. I’ll need it since Mom will be gone.” Dex looked down, and their eyes met. Madigan didn’t understand how he ever thought Dex was so damn frightening. Warmth filled his eyes to the brim. “Whatever you need me to be, Madigan. I will be. It is the duty of a guardian.” Awareness sizzled between them. Madigan shook his head and took a step back. He was not throwing himself at yet another of his guardian angels this morning. Man, his libido was on overdrive.

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“How about that movie, guys?” Madigan asked a little uncomfortably. He turned, trusting the others would follow, and practically ran from the room. **** This was not the movie to watch with a bunch of angels. He really should’ve thought before he selected it on Syfy. Constantine was one of his favorite movies, but he felt like it was probably going to hit a few nerves with the group of angels. He was sitting on one of the old couches in the living room that faced the TV in between Dex and Cross. Michel and Bren sat on the other couch. God only knew why they hadn’t spread out to the recliners. A bark of laughter made him jump. “Lord Gabriel is a woman!” Dex’s laughter, like the rest of him, was a little intimidating. Madigan relaxed as he processed the words. “Did you see those demons? How do they see without eyes?” Bren wondered. “I mean, I’ve seen some ugly demons in my time, but none that are that ugly.” “No kidding,” Michel agreed. “Some of them are downright edible. Like Cristobal. You remember him?” “I remember,” Bren said. Bren and Michel shared a grin. “Do you remember what he was caught doing to Archangel Michael six months ago?” Michel dissolved into laughter. “Yeah. The ‘torture’ lasted for days, apparently. It was a running joke for months. Some of the troops still razz him about it.” Huh. It seemed like they were getting along better than they were yesterday. Madigan leaned back against the couch, trying to get a little more comfortable. “You can lean against me if you so desire,” Cross offered. Madigan raised his gaze to meet Cross’s. His eyes were locked solidly on the TV. Was he embarrassed about the offer?

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“Probably not a good idea, Cross,” Madigan said softly as his arousal began to stir. He was already having a hard enough time ignoring the fact that he wanted to roll around on each and every one of them. “You’re probably right,” Cross agreed. He sounded a little disappointed, but that couldn’t be helped. He didn’t want all the guys fighting over his ass. Madigan knew they were probably fighting just as powerful urges as Madigan was, and he didn’t want to make it more difficult for all of them. Dex tensed beside them, his eyes going to the ceiling. Madigan turned to give him his full attention. “What’s wrong?” Madigan asked. Dex was muttering under his breath and staring at something Madigan couldn’t see. “Yuri is on his way. He should be arriving by nightfall. He has news. Important news.” Dex seemed lost in thought as he listened to the other angel. Madigan’s stomach clenched at the thought. Important news could be interpreted in a variety of ways. Not all of them positive. After a moment, Dex’s expression cleared and he was back with them. “Relax, Madigan. If Yuri is on his way, it means he has found something. There is nothing for you to be upset over. This is a good thing,” Cross reassured. He pulled Madigan into his arms, and the human couldn’t help but sigh and snuggle closer. He smelled so good, and he made him feel so safe. A growl from Bren had him lifting his head. Their eyes met, and Bren was the first to look away. “Bren,” Madigan whispered the word, but it drew the angel’s attention back to him. “I want you here, too.” Madigan knew he was being a selfish prick by even saying that. Knew he was tormenting them all unnecessarily. Dex went to stand to get out of the way. “No,” Madigan said firmly. He spread out and put his legs over Dex’s lap. Bren moved slowly as if he were being pulled against his will. It was like a spell had descended over all of them in that

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moment. Madigan watched the beautiful angel as he knelt on the floor beside the couch. “Bright eyes, what—” “Lean against me, Bren. Want to feel you a little bit,” Madigan interrupted before Bren could talk himself out of it. The angel nodded and leaned forward until his head was pressed to Madigan’s chest and his arms encircled him. Cross’s hand stroked his hair expertly, and Dex started massaging the tension out of Madigan’s calves. Bren just seemed to want to breathe Madigan in and that was all right with him. Then Michel was there beside Bren on the floor, pressed close to the other angel, and rested his head against Madigan’s stomach. It felt good to be so completely encompassed by his guardians. Michel’s hand started stroking Bren’s back in slow steady circles, which made Madigan wonder exactly what sort of relationship the two of them had. Madigan lifted his head and stared up into the soft brown eyes of his father’s angel and spoke. “Kiss me?”

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Chapter Eight Madigan couldn’t quite believe he’d said the words out loud, but there they were. He wanted to feel Cross’s kiss while the others were pressed against him. He longed for it like he hadn’t longed for anything in his entire life. If they were all naked, it would be even better. He licked his lips. Oh yes. Naked would be much better. “Madigan.” Cross’s groan made the fine hairs all over his body stand to absolute attention. He could feel the hard evidence of Cross’s interest pressed against the back of his skull. The dream was in the front of his mind in vivid clarity. He wanted that. He wanted them all to love him just like that. Bren started nibbling his pecs through his shirt, and Michel nuzzled his stomach. “Kiss,” Madigan begged of the angel above him. “Madigan, we shouldn’t. Your father would not approve.” Cross said the words, but he didn’t seem so sure of himself. “A pox on his father, Cross,” Dex murmured. “Kiss that boy. Now.” Cross seemed to lose his internal struggle because the next thing Madigan knew his lips were crushed under the weight of the redhaired angel’s. He gasped. Cross’s tongue traced the seam of his lips, coaxing him to open and allow him entrance into the wet cavern of his mouth. Their tongues parried, tangled. Cross tasted good. Like mint and a little hint of something sweet. He loved how Cross completely took control of the kiss, giving him no time to question or protest. The other men’s hands rubbed against his skin, burrowing under his clothes to seek the soft flesh underneath. He gasped. It felt so damn amazing to be in this situation.

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Their mouths broke so that the others could pull his shirt over his head. It was tossed somewhere beyond his sight, and then they were all touching him again. Bren’s mouth lit on his nipples, while Michel’s traced the muscles of his stomach. Dex tugged on the button on his pants and lowered the zipper in slow degrees. Cross broke the kiss at the sound. “Don’t,” he commanded the other angels. “We mustn’t violate him.” “News flash,” Bren retorted through a mouthful of Madigan. “He wants to be violated.” He nibbled on the hardened tips of Madigan’s nipples, eliciting a groan of response. “Isn’t that right, bright eyes?” “I am not—” Cross snapped. He seemed to search for a word. “I’m not gang banging my charge, my lord’s son, just because his instincts clamor for him to mate!” “Then get the fuck out of the dog pile, Cross-stitch, because the rest of us know how to share,” Bren returned. It was a challenge. “Don’t fight,” Madigan moaned in frustration. “Please, don’t fight.” He pushed himself up despite the protest from the other angels and his hard cock. Bren pushed him back into the couch, effectively caging him. He couldn’t resist leaning in and kissing Bren’s full lips. He tasted different from Cross. More earthy. Yum. Their tongues mated as Bren shoved his deep into his mouth as if he wanted to get every crevice and taste every nuance therein. Michel’s hands caressed his hips, the other angel’s mouth going to the bend of his neck. Oh, heavenly. He was almost delirious, drunk off their touches. “Stop it!” Cross rumbled, grabbing Bren’s hair and hauling him off of Madigan’s body. Bren snarled. “You want to satisfy me instead?” The dark-haired angel snapped. Madigan licked his lips at the prospect. Oh, Bren was wicked. “You couldn’t handle this,” Cross snarled, tightening his grip on Bren’s hair until the other man cried out. Almost immediately on the heels of the cry of pain came a sound of pure pleasure that was almost feline. Cross’s eyes widened, obviously surprised by Bren’s reaction.

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His brown eyes darkened with something that Madigan took to be lust. “Beautiful, aren’t they? Like two titans ready to do battle.” Michel’s voice was whispering in his ear like it was a conspirator’s secret. Madigan agreed wholeheartedly. Michel’s hands drew him into his body, and his medium-length, blond hair teased his ear. Madigan leaned against him, enjoying the feel of his muscles as they reclined on the couch and watched Cross and Bren argue. Arguing had never turned him on before, but hell, with these angels, there was a first time for everything. “Do you think that you could look at me like you’re looking at them for a minute?” Michel asked, turning Madigan’s chin so that they could look at one another in the eyes. He really had the most gorgeous eyes Madigan had ever seen. They were liquid ice, the blue so pure that they were glacial. His lust started to burn brighter. He would love to slide against Michel. He’d be the one he’d want to try new things with. He wouldn’t be crazy intense like Bren and Cross. He’d be fun. Michel slowly smiled. “Better. Much better.” They glanced over in time to see Cross shove Bren into a wall, causing the pictures on it to clatter to the floor. It was hard to tell if they were fighting or kissing. Looked like both. Cross jerked back his head with a hiss. Blood dripped from his lip and slid down his chin. Bren must’ve bitten him. Madigan grinned at the feral display. Angels were fun. “What do you say we move this to a bigger room?” he asked Michel as he stood. The angel cocked his head to the side and returned the grin as if he caught Madigan’s thought. “You are your father’s son.” Even Dex chuckled at the comment. Madigan took one hand from each of the remaining angels and started up the stairs. “Where the hell are you going?” Bren snapped from his position against the wall.

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“Michel, Dex, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Cross snapped at the same time. Madigan threw a look of pure evil over his shoulder. “Stop fucking around and come find out.” He tugged on Michel’s and Dex’s hands and continued up the steps, knowing that the other two angels would be right behind them.

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Chapter Nine As an angel of death, Dex was normally unconcerned with physical pleasures. Of course he’d never been the guardian angel of a nephilim going through puberty before. He was harder than stone. In his considerably long life, he didn’t remember ever being so aroused by another being before. He looked down at their entwined fingers. It felt right to be walking beside this beautiful boy with his fellow guardians. Madigan smiled, and his heart tripped over itself. The boy was gorgeous and kind. Everything an angel could want in a consort. His eyes flicked to Michel. Even if he had to share, it would be worth it. “Is this okay?” Madigan’s voice was unsure as they neared a bedroom door on the second floor. It swung open to reveal a huge canopy bed big enough to accommodate all of them. Dex squeezed his hand in reassurance. “Yes, Madigan. This is okay.” The pounding footsteps behind them told him that Bren and Cross were not going to be left out of the fun. Dex shook his head. His long, brown hair fell into his face to hide his smirk. Those two were two sides of the same coin. Aggression, dominance, and the need to control ran deep within them. Michel was relaxed and easygoing. He could swing either way on the dominance scale and appreciated the benefits of both. Just like Dex. Madigan looked like he was on cloud nine. His erection was scrunched up against the front of his pants, tenting the denim. Dex found himself gravitating toward the boy. He wanted to touch every inch of that silken, creamy skin. His bare chest was a temptation in

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itself. Madigan’s nipples were already pebbled from Bren’s administrations. They were rosy red from the nibbles and bites. He’d ached to take his place beside Michel and Bren and nip at those bits of flesh downstairs. They were going to be in big trouble with their respective archangels when they finished their mission for this. But he felt like they were all a runaway train that none of them were willing or able to stop. Madigan’s will pulled them all toward this. “Touch me, Dex.” Madigan’s husky whisper sent a shiver of want down Dex’s spine. He was so ready for this. Dex moved forward and tilted Madigan’s head up so that he could kiss him. Poor kid was short enough that kissing Dex while standing was a feat in itself. “We’re not to penetrate him,” Cross’s voice sounded from behind them, part command, part desperation. Dex knew that he needed the rest of the guardians to back him on this. Not only because of the repercussions but because it would take all of them working together to control their sexual impulses. Madigan’s pheromones would overwhelm any of them one-on-one. “Agreed,” Dex spoke as his lips met the curve of Madigan’s neck and caressed the line with his tongue. The nephilim whimpered and plastered his body against Dex’s. The hard press against his thigh made the angel tighter if that was possible. “Agreed,” Michel seconded. A long sigh let everyone know that Bren wasn’t happy about it. “Agreed,” the other angel said reluctantly. He ignored the pulse of energy that signaled him that a message was waiting. He didn’t want to hear from Yuri or any of the archangels right now. It pulsed again, more insistently this time. He cursed. This could not be happening right now! “Dex, answer me, you asshole.” Yuri’s voice echoed loudly through the room. Dex’s hands tightened around Madigan. He looked at the ceiling as the portal of communication opened. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

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“There you are. I was wondering if you were ever going to answer.” Yuri’s light brown hair and golden eyes were filled with annoyance. “I’m going to be earlier than expected. Tell the guys.” “We’re a little busy.” He growled. He knew it sounded like muttering to the rest of them. Sometimes he hated being an angel of death. The burden of communication was thrust upon all the angels of his choir. Whoever had his frequency could reach him anywhere and anytime. Yuri’s eyes widened. “You’re fucking Raphael’s son?” His eyes narrowed. “Wait…‘We’? Who is we?” Understanding lit his face along with a huge grin. He nearly fell out of the sky he was laughing so hard. “What is so funny?” Dex snapped louder than he meant to. Every pair of eyes in the room turned toward him. Dex sighed. That was so embarrassing. This was why Lord Gabriel’s choir only hung out with one another. “Nothing, man. Nothing. I’ll see you guys in about an hour.” Yuri winked. “Enjoy yourself.” Dex rolled his eyes and found Madigan staring up at him. Madigan reached up and cupped his cheek. “I want you here with me, Dex,” Madigan demanded. The smaller man nearly climbed up his six-and-a-half-foot frame. He kissed him passionately, putting into his kiss a strength that was unexpected in a man his size. “Yuri will be here in an hour.” “Then we best hurry,” Cross answered him from somewhere over his right shoulder. Dex nodded. Yeah. They would need to hurry. “I–I have an idea,” Madigan stammered. Dex kneaded his ass through his denim. “What’s your idea, sweetheart?” Dex claimed his lip in a gentle kiss. Madigan hesitated. “Whatever you want is yours, Madigan.” The smaller man pulled out of his arms and headed toward the bed. Dex watched in fascination. What was the kid up to?

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Chapter Ten Madigan’s body was thrumming with erotic energy. He wanted to fuck. He needed to fuck. He was going to die if he didn’t fuck. He just knew it. He kicked off his pants and jumped onto the made canopy bed, looking over his shoulder as his guardians gave a collective sigh of appreciation of his assets. He knew he looked good. Men at clubs had been trying to pick him up for years. He’d never been interested. The proud jut of flesh between his legs now proudly proclaimed that it was most certainly interested in whatever attention it could get this morning. What he wouldn’t give to have each of them take him in turn. He sighed at the thought. Oh, that idea was heavenly. This overactive libido was clouding his brain, turning him into a puddle of want. Cross had said it was a natural reaction. The last time he’d checked, wanting to conduct an orgy in his mother’s bedroom with half a dozen angels wasn’t necessarily natural. These urges were killing him. He reached down and gave his hard prick a stroke. He groaned, and the angels echoed him in turn. He licked his lips and did it again, letting his back bow so that his ass tightened nicely. He was buzzed off their reactions to him. Cross had said not actual fucking, but maybe he could convince them… “Turn around, bright eyes. Let us see that thick cock you’re stroking.” Bren’s commanding voice grabbed him by the balls and squeezed oh so nicely. He rolled over onto his back, positioning himself in the very center of the bed. “That’s it, bright eyes. Stroke that hard dick for us.”

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“Angels aren’t supposed to talk like that.” Madigan tsked, doing as he was commanded. He beckoned them closer with his other hand. “Get up here. Everyone.” One by one they climbed onto the bed and surrounded him. Madigan gasped as their combined scents coated him like a warm mist, settling into his skin like a steam bath. His eyes rolled, and he toyed with the tip of his dick in his hand. He was going to blow soon. He was hypersensitive to their very presence. He didn’t know how he was ever going to stand it if he actually got to touch them. “What was your idea, sweetheart?” Dex asked. He was so damn sexy. He looked the most rugged out of the bunch with his fiveo’clock shadow and his long hair. Those apple-green eyes seemed to stare right through his soul. “Take off your clothes.” Madigan addressed them all, squirming. If they actually gave him his way, he was going to fly to the moon. Shirts and pants started flying everywhere. It would’ve been funny had he not been so damn turned on. He’d never seen anyone undress as fast as his guardians did. They all obliged him, not the least bit embarrassed by their nudity. Had to be an angel thing. Once they were blissfully naked, Madigan looked at each in turn, savoring the way each and every one looked different. It was like they were all different flavors of ice cream and Madigan was privileged enough to get a scoop of every one. “Touch yourselves,” Madigan begged. “I want to see how much you want this.” They hesitated, glancing at one another. He wasn’t the only one who had never been in this situation before. Dex leaned down and traced Madigan’s lips with his fingertip. “You want to watch us play while we watch you?” he asked as if to clarify. Madigan nodded, his balls drawing tight at the very idea. Dex took his massive prick in hand and began to stroke, his eyes never leaving Madigan’s hand as it pumped up and down his dripping cock. Fuck that was hot.

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“Christ.” It was Michel who’d spoken. Madigan looked over to see him biting his bottom lip and jerking himself hard. Madigan purred at the sight. His eyes lit on Bren and Cross expectantly. They glared at one another. “Please,” Madigan whined. “I want to watch, Bren. Come on, Cross. Please?” Bren shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever you want, bright eyes. I’m game.” There was a challenge there. Madigan had to resist the urge to smile. Those two were getting competitive. “Cross?” Madigan asked, reaching down to fondle his balls. He knew he looked wanton from this position from the way Cross sucked in a breath at the motion. He wanted to entice the angel into playing with the rest of them. Cross gave a curt nod as if agreeing to a dangerous mission instead of a pleasurable one. Someone was going to have to loosen him up a little more. “You like to suck cock, Michel?” Madigan asked suddenly. Michel’s blue eyes were sparkling as he nodded. “Give Cross a hand, er, mouth, would you?” Cross’s hand stilled. “I didn’t say anything about that.” His protest sounded weak at best. “Tsk, tsk, Cross. Only rule you laid down was no fucking,” Madigan reminded mischievously. “Saucy, sexy fucking nephilim,” Bren rumbled, panting for breath. Oh, Madigan was loving this game. He felt powerful despite the size difference between him and the other men. He may have been the weakest physically, but he had power over them. He loved it. “Go ahead, Michel,” Bren goaded. “Suck Cross-stitch’s piece of meat good.” Cross glared at the comment but allowed Michel to get on his elbows in front of him so that he was eye level with his arousal. “Does it turn you on to watch another man lick me, Bren?” Cross asked. The sentence ended in a deep groan as Michel took him all the way to the back of his throat. The angel had to have serious

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cocksucking skills because the length of Cross’s body alone required more than Madigan thought he could handle. He’d have to ask Michel for lessons later. “Fuck yeah it does,” Bren admitted. His eyes bounced between what Madigan was doing and what Cross and Michel was doing, like he couldn’t decide what he wanted to look at more. Dex surprised Madigan by reaching out with his other hand and kneading Bren’s already tight sac. Madigan moaned, his hips swiveling. Now this was the visual he was talking about. Dex’s eyes met his. “I like to touch,” Dex murmured shyly. Madigan smiled at him and gave himself another long stroke. “I like it when you touch.” He licked his lips. Bren cried out, his body jerking as he reached his peak. Apparently, today had been too much of a sensual overload for the guy because he came hard enough that his milky pleasure splattered Madigan’s stomach and upper thighs. He mumbled inarticulate words over and over as he continued to jerk himself until nothing else came out. “Hmm, Bren,” Madigan purred in compliment. He used his fingers to swipe up a drop or two of spunk and brought it to his lips to taste. He suckled his fingers, enjoying the salty, sweet taste of Bren. It was so damn good. Dex lost it then, adding his pleasure to the sticky mess that was already on Madigan’s body. It dripped down the vee of Madigan’s thighs to his tightly drawn balls. Madigan spread it up his cock, using it as lubrication to get the amount of friction he needed. He shouted at the sensation. It was so much better this way. The smells were driving him crazy. He looked over to watch as Michel’s blond head bobbed up and down on Cross’s thick length. “Yeah, baby. Suck him good,” Madigan encouraged. Cross growled low in his throat, the sound inhuman and sexy as hell. Cross’s eyes were locked on Madigan’s hand movements. “Come for

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me, Cross. Come in Michel’s pretty mouth. I love his lips. Don’t you love his lips?” Madigan babbled. “Yeah. Love those lips. So good. Mouth is so hot,” Cross spat as Michel increased the speed of his movements. Cross’s hand wound into Michel’s hair, and he began to fuck himself into Michel’s mouth. Madigan whimpered and moved his hand faster, seeking relief. He wanted to come so badly. Michel winked at him around a mouthful of Cross, and Madigan couldn’t help but smile. Michel was so much fun. Cross shouted his release, his head falling back and every muscle tensing for the final moment of completion. It was striking. Like something that should be in an art museum. Madigan’s own body began to jerk, and distantly he was aware of Michel crying out right along with him. His brain short-circuited, lights flashing behind his eyelids. His balls drew up so hard that it was almost painful. Hot pleasure erupted like a geyser shooting across his chest and even hitting his cheek. His muscles trembled and jerked, his nerve endings dancing as pleasure poured through his body. After endless seconds of wondrous pain-bliss, Madigan sagged in relief. He was panting hard. His eyes slid shut, and he was almost thankful that the hunters had come for him. If what he had to pay was his life for just one moment of this, he almost thought it was worth it. “Fuck. Me. That was…” Bren began. He trailed off as if he couldn’t put into words what the experience had meant. “Yeah.” Dex agreed, sitting down so that he was no longer on his knees. Cross pulled out from between Michel’s lips and groaned as he did. He looked totally embarrassed. Madigan felt like purring like a satisfied housecat. Michel licked his lips and grinned, laying down beside Madigan. “That was hot, cutey.” The blond-haired angel laughed. “You’re a naughty kid.” Madigan grinned. “I try.”

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“Cross! Dex! Where the hell are you guys?” a jovial voice called from somewhere downstairs. The entire room froze, the magic of the moment gone in an instant. “Shit. He’s early,” Bren cursed. All the angels scrambled off of the bed, haphazardly throwing on clothing as they went. “Oh man. Yuri is going to be such a jerk about this,” Michel grumbled as he yanked on his sweats. “He’s got a worse mouth on him than me.” “Hey, I thought your mouth looked pretty damn good from where I was at,” Bren joked as he pulled on his denims. Cross started coughing like he’d choked on his own spit or something. “Shut. Up. Bren,” the redhead demanded. “Hello?” the voice called. The sound of footsteps on the stairs had them all dashing for the door. “Hold the fuck up, Yuri!” Bren yelled. He was the first one to reach the door. They all barreled out, leaving Madigan alone with the mess. He sighed. It was hard to be mad about it, though. He should’ve been embarrassed by his wanton behavior, but he just didn’t have the energy. As carefully as he could, he stood and made his way over to the attached master bathroom in search of towels.

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Chapter Eleven Yuri stared at his fellow guardians as they ushered him into the kitchen and away from the upstairs. They were all flushed, nervous, their motions tense. His eyes met Dex’s from across the room as he stood by the entryway into the pantry. He’d half thought that they’d been kidding when Dex had said “we’re” busy. Apparently not. At least that would make it easier on them when Yuri spilled his news to them. “So what’s up, guys?” he asked, crossing his thick arms over his defined pecks. He hadn’t bothered to wear a shirt. He’d flown in from South America. The distance alone had him sweating despite the altitude. Of course, that was why they sent him. He was the best flyer and the fastest. As one of Uriel’s angels, he was built for speed and long-distance travel. “We were taking care of our charge,” Cross said simply. He was always the levelheaded one. Thus why Raphael had put him in charge of their ragtag team. It was unheard of for angels of all choirs to work together. Yuri scoffed. “If by taking care of you mean banging. Sure.” They all winced at his wording. Among all of the angels, he’d probably spent the most time on Earth. It certainly showed in his language. It amused him to ruffle their feathers, so to speak. “So what’s got all your dicks in a twist? He some kind of super slut?” He didn’t even see the fist coming at his face, but he sure as hell felt the crunch as it collided with his nose. His head whipped back, blood exploding from him in a wide arch. Fuck. That hurt. Yuri was

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momentarily stunned as he was knocked back into the cabinetry. Bren snarled in his face, hauling back like he was going to hit him again. “Bren, stand down!” Cross was yelling from somewhere over his shoulder. Though Yuri sure as fuck noticed that the guy wasn’t pulling Bren off of him. “Don’t you ever talk about him like that, you piece of shit!” Bren shouted in his face. Blood dripped down Yuri’s mouth, and he spat it on the white tile floor, leaving a pink stain. Bren fisted his shirt and lifted him a foot off the ground. “Do you fucking hear me, Yuri?” “Let go of me now, psycho. Or else I’m going to fucking murder you.” Yuri tried to keep his voice calm. Energy and anger thrummed through his body like a physical force. His muscles jumped eagerly like dogs pulling on their leads. He could already feel the tissue reknitting in his nose as what was broken was reset and fixed. The benefits of being an angel. That wasn’t the point. The principle of the thing had to be addressed. He was going to whip Bren’s fucking ass. What did he think he was doing? Why the hell did he care about their charge’s reputation so much? They’d known him a grand total of a day! “Bren! What the hell are you doing? Get off of him!” an unfamiliar voice shouted. Bren dropped him like a scalding stone. Yuri landed on his feet but it jarred his knees. The bastard. He was shaking in rage. He turned his golden eyes and opened his mouth to tell whoever was interfering to fuck off. Dark green eyes and a face that belonged on a frigging statue had him snapping his jaw shut. His nose twitched as the stranger’s smell hit his nostrils. Was this their charge? Holy Christ, he was beautiful, and he smelled so good. “Hi,” Yuri murmured a little breathlessly. If someone asked, he was blaming it on the fight. The little redhead glared. “Hi yourself, dickhead. Why were you picking a fight with the guys?”

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“I wasn’t trying to pick a fight,” Yuri answered defensively. “Bren jumped me.” “Don’t make dumbass comments, and I wouldn’t have to jump your ass,” Bren groused. “Temper, temper, Luci’s angel,” Yuri goaded, trying to distract himself from the weird attraction to the nephilim. “I said stop harassing Bren,” Raphael’s son interrupted before he could really get Bren going again. He wanted to finish the fight they’d started. Yuri turned his gaze toward him. “Who put you in charge of this outfit, son of Raphael?” His eyes flicked toward Cross. “Last time I checked, it was Cross’s job to tell me what to do.” The nephilim held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not attacking you. I just want you to stop fighting with everyone.” He paused. “You’re the one they’ve been waiting for?” Yuri nodded slowly. The change in attitude was a little disconcerting. Their charge looked at Bren. “You don’t need to jump people like that, Bren. Sticks and stones, okay?” Yuri was shocked when Bren nodded his head and looked down in embarrassment. Those green eyes turned back toward him. “Why don’t you come into the living room with us and sit down? I bet you’re tired.” Again, Yuri nodded. He was oddly touched by the concern in the nephilim’s voice. The charge favored him with a smile, the enticing scent growing with each passing second. Hmmm…He’d almost forgotten what it was like to be around a nephilim going through the transition period between youth and adult. It had to be his pheromones that were so enticing. No wonder the others had started tangling with him already. The boy was lucky he hadn’t been fucked six ways from Sunday. And Yuri didn’t doubt that he hadn’t been fucked yet. He wouldn’t be walking right now if that was what he’d interrupted. Of course, if he’d come in during an actual fuckfest, then the other angels would’ve probably yelled at him to piss off. They were all virile warriors who weren’t used to waiting on action.

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“What is your name, son of Raphael?” Yuri asked as he was led back down another hallway and into an open space with several couches and a big television. “You’re the only one who doesn’t seem to know it,” the charge replied, amusement lacing his voice. Yuri’s annoyance spiked. He didn’t like being made fun of. “I’m Madigan,” “I’m Yuriel. Everyone calls me Yuri.” Yuri introduced himself without thinking. He’d hate to be called by his full name. That was his father’s name, so being called Yuriel was just weird to him. “Nice to meet you,” Madigan said politely. “So what did you do to piss Bren off so much?” Yuri hesitated. He wasn’t really supposed to lie, but the alternative wasn’t very pleasant. He didn’t want to admit to this lovely creature that he may or may not have inadvertently called him a whore. “Uh…” he stalled. “He was just being his normal, dickhead self,” Bren finished for him and Yuri was grateful for the interruption. Though the glare shot in his direction clued him in that it wasn’t for his benefit in the slightest. Yuri made a beeline toward the comfortable-looking leather recliner and plopped down on it. He gave a groan of thankfulness as it embraced his body. Man he was tired. He hadn’t realized exactly how tired he was until that moment. He rubbed his eyes and watched as Madigan sat on the couch opposite him, Cross and Bren on either side of him, and Dex and Michel behind them. Interesting. Well, didn’t Yuri feel like Johnny-come-lately. He had the strangest urge to snarl at the group of them for leaving him out. Which was insane. Instincts were a bitch. “So where did you fly in from?” Madigan wondered. Michel handed their charge a bottle of water, which he sipped from. Yuri licked his lips. He hadn’t had a chance to get anything to drink yet. The nephilim glanced from the bottle to him and back again. He tossed it, and Yuri caught it easily though he was surprised. Was the

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half angel a mind reader? Yuri took a grateful swig, nearly draining it in one long gulp before he answered. “South America.” Madigan’s eyes widened. “Eden is in South America? I always thought it would be in Africa or something.” “Common misconception and kind of a moot point either way. Eden hasn’t been Eden since Pangaea. There are little pieces of Eden everywhere. It’s just the largest chunk happens to be in South America,” Yuri supplied. He drained the rest of the bottle. Dex disappeared and reappeared with another bottle in hand. The other angel tossed it to him. “Thanks.” Dex nodded to him without comment. “You have news for us?” Cross interrupted Madigan’s forty million questions. Yuri was actually a little disappointed by it. He had been enjoying educating the inquisitive halfling. “Yes. I have some crazy news.” He sighed. This had been the part he’d been dreading the entire flight over. Angels were not exactly known for their open-mindedness, and with the exception of Bren and himself, they hadn’t been out of the divine realms all that often to get acquainted with the wilder side of humanity. He sagged deeper into the recliner. He might as well just get it over with. It was almost like ripping off a Band-Aid. Sometimes the best thing to do was just jerk it off quickly. “What color are your wings?” Madigan interrupted. It seemed like the kid was just bursting with questions. Yuri chuckled. “They’re the same color as my eyes.” They were the color of champagne. He’d always thought they were kind of boring himself. They weren’t fantastic shades of crimson like Cross’s or even the deep midnight of Bren’s. Hell, even Michel had wings the perfect shades of white and gold. His were just plain in comparison. “Can I see?” Madigan asked. Yuri blinked. Was he serious? Right now?

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“Madigan, why don’t you let Yuri breathe for a minute, baby? He’s exhausted from the flight, and I think he’s having trouble keeping up with two lines of questioning.” Cross’s voice was a gentle rebuke when he spoke. Madigan blushed lightly. How frigging cute was that? “Sorry,” the nephilim muttered. He looked embarrassed, and Yuri found himself wanting to ease that awkwardness. “It’s not a problem really,” he offered. Madigan smiled at him and his heart did a somersault. Holy crap. No wonder the kid had the angels already begging for his favor. His instincts clamored for him to cater to Madigan’s every need and smallest want. It had to be a mating instinct. One Yuri had never felt before. It was then he noticed that the room had gone quiet waiting for his answer and he was staring at Madigan. He cleared his throat. “I consulted the ancient texts over the subject going back to Sodom and Gomorrah. It was a solution but one that is a little extreme. However, as far as I can tell, it is the only solution known to have any effect.” He hesitated. “It’s…unconventional.” Cross put a hand on Madigan’s shoulder. “What is the solution?” Yuri cleared his throat. “He has to, uh, mate with his guardians.” He looked at each angel in turn. “All of us.”

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Chapter Twelve “No way. No friggin’ way. I don’t even know you!” Madigan protested. He leaned against Bren, seeking comfort. Cross wrapped his hands around his shoulders and squeezed. “It’ll be for your protection, Madigan,” Yuri said reasonably. “I wouldn’t suggest it unless there was some other way.” “I don’t know you!” he repeated. Yuri raised his golden eyebrow at him. It was a curious color, the same as his hair. It wasn’t brown, and it wasn’t blond. It was some curious shade in between. Not that that mattered. He shook his head to clear it. “So it’s just me then?” Yuri smirked. “You’d mate with the others but not with me? What’s one more dick in the dog pile?” Madigan blushed crimson. He knew it sounded stupid, but he felt like he’d gotten to know the others a little. Yuri just sort of walked through the door. “One more comment like that and I’m going to bust your fucking mouth!” Bren snapped, holding Madigan tightly. “Be respectful, Yuri!” Cross growled at the same time. “This is a lot for Madigan to handle.” Madigan swallowed hard. They were protecting him again. “I just don’t see how sleeping with five other men is going to keep me safe.” He shifted as his body started to stir with interest at the thought. He wanted to scream. Angelic puberty was a bitch. At least now he knew why he was so freaking horny all the time. Of course, knowing why did not help him control his urge to rub up against every man in this room.

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“Your father had to perform a special ceremony to grant you us as guardian angels. He had to take a piece of himself, which was connected to you, and share it between all of us. It’s a really complicated process,” Yuri explained. “However, the bond is incomplete unless we take you as our lover. We’re angels. We have a forever kind of love when we mate. It doesn’t require anything of you but to pledge to be ours for the rest of your life, and we do the same. Of course, we have to consummate the bond within two days of making the pledge. So basically, we promise to be your devoted lovers and those words act as a covenant between us. Then we have to consummate the joining.” “You’re talking marriage,” Madigan accused in a strangled voice. Yuri nodded. “Essentially, yes, except there doesn’t have to be any lavish ceremony. We just make a verbal pledge.” He paused. “I don’t think you understand that your life is in great danger, Madigan. If one of us for even a second falters, you’re dead. Period. End game. No reset. No recall. Dead. Do you understand?” Madigan nodded. “Then you should understand why we need to do everything we can to make sure we’re not leaving them an opportunity to get to you. The hunters won’t give up. Yes, this house is sanctuary, and they can’t enter it. However, you also can’t go outside. You’re trapped in this place. It only takes one smart hunter to realize that a sniper’s bullet can go through windows. Then what? Are you going to live in the basement until you’re of age?” “Don’t talk to me like I’m a kid that you’ve got to chastise!” Madigan snapped. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. The walls he’d thought were a comfort suddenly felt suppressing. He’d never leave this house. He started to shake. “Dammit, Yuri! You scared him. He’s going to hyperventilate.” Bren’s hands started smoothing down Madigan’s back in gentle, soothing motions. He kissed the side of Madigan’s cheek and neck. “Shh, baby. It’s okay. We’re going to take care of you. Don’t worry. Yuri is being a dick.”

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“What happens if we mate him?” Michel asked from behind them. He’d been curiously quiet throughout the conversation. Madigan turned to look at him. He looked stern and aloof. Something he never seemed. That was more Dex’s personality. “He has a temporary cease fire placed on him for a year. I’m not sure of the specific ins and outs of that, but the ancient scrolls read that he will be untouchable so long as he’s within those years with his consorts. That should be just enough time to see him through his transition period and take the petition to Raphael for a permanent ban,” Yuri said. His eyes lit on Madigan, and Madigan deliberately looked away. He knew it wasn’t fair to blame the bearer of weird news, but he resented the hell out of the clinical way he was addressing what should be the most romantic moment of his life. “Why all of us?” Michel wondered. “Why not just two of us? Most humans only have two guardians. Why can’t we just use that model?” Yuri sighed. “It has to be every angel that he’s been angelbound with. Trust me, I’ve checked and rechecked. If Raphael hadn’t already bound us, it wouldn’t be an issue, but since we’re bound to Madigan, all of us must take him as a consort.” Madigan started to tremble, but he didn’t know if it was from the lust pulsing through his veins or the fear that was racing through in equal measure. He wanted a shower, and he wanted to think. He knew he still smelled like the angels. He’d used a wet washcloth to mop up most of the sticky mess, but the scent had lingered on his skin, clouding his mind. Part of him wasn’t exactly opposed to being married to them, but what would happen when he finally got over the angelic puberty thing and his libido returned to normal? Would they still want him if he couldn’t keep up with their demands? “It might be easier to think of this as a business partnership than a marriage,” Yuri began. Madigan swallowed hard. Right. Business partnership. “There is no need to get emotionally entangled. We could all use one another for our mutual satiation.”

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“Use one another?” Bren asked. “Wait a minute. I thought we all just had to bond to Madigan.” Yuri sighed. “That was the other part I didn’t want to tell you. We’ll all feel compelled to bond with one another as well. You see, in order to complete the circle, we all must bound to each other. Think of Madigan as the clasp and us as the links in a bracelet or necklace. We’re all held together by Madigan, but we would also be connected to one another. There isn’t a time limit on the angels bonding with one another but it will make the connection stronger the closer we are. Trust me when I say that the ancient texts said that it will painful to remain unbound over a long period of time. We’re going to want to bond with one another.” Cross and Bren looked at one another. “No friggin’ way.” Bren echoed Madigan’s earlier protest. “I’m not binding myself to Red for all eternity. Not goin’ to happen.” “I feel the same way. Bren and I don’t even really like one another.” Cross glared. Madigan sighed. He wished those two would just get along. They would be beautiful together. He pictured the two of them touching and kissing, grinding while Michel sucked Madigan and Dex slid into him from behind… He groaned as his dick instantly filled, pressing against the seam of his pants in insistent greeting. Every angel in the room looked at him. Madigan put an arm over his lap to hide the bulge, but he was pretty sure they knew exactly what that sound had been about. He blushed lightly and cleared his throat. “You’re lovely,” Yuri spoke, and Madigan’s blush deepened. He pictured the other angel joining them. His gorgeous, golden self claiming Madigan’s mouth in a kiss before pushing his head down so that he could lap at his hard length… Shit. He arched his back without thought, grinding against the air as the urge to fuck hit him hard. It was hard to imagine that he’d just gotten off a few minutes ago. It had felt so good to be surrounded by them. Felt so good to be touched and wanted and watched.

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“Christ.” Yuri’s soft exclamation reminded him that he was in a pretty serious conversation. He forced his rioting body to calm down a little. “I–I’m sorry,” he stammered. The scales had tipped. He was definitely trembling from arousal now. Yuri’s eyes literally started to glow. He’d never seen any of the other angel’s eyes do that before. “No need to be sorry, Madigan.” Yuri sat back in his chair, uncaring that he was exposing his hard cock as it pressed against the seam of his own pants. The angel sighed. “He smells fantastic.” “Like home,” Dex echoed. “Like ours,” Michel added. They all sounded a little dreamy like Madigan was casting a spell on them. They were the ones who smelled like something he wanted to roll in. He ached to have those scents on his skin. His shaking increased. He wanted to know what Yuri smelled like. “You need us to give you a minute?” Cross’s voice was laced with concern. He didn’t understand that it was the image of all of them together that affected Madigan like this. His angelic side apparently had no problem with the prospect of having five strong angels to seek and be sought out for pleasure for the rest of eternity. “I need, Cross. All of you together is scary, but there is a piece of me…” He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. He wanted them. He wanted them all so damn bad. He needed to get a grip. He took a deep breath and looked at Yuri. “What are the chances of success if we don’t do the binding?” Yuri’s eyes clouded, and a sad smile passed over his face. “About four million to one. We have five full-time warriors. They have hundreds. There is a likely chance at some point during the next year that we will fuck up and one of us will be banished.” “Banished?” Madigan asked. “When an angel is banished, he is tossed out of heaven and thrown into the pits of Hell. The hunters have that ability. If one of our physical bodies should die by the hands of the hunters, they will

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take our souls and toss them into the pit for defending an ‘abomination.’” Yuri’s explanation chilled him. “You didn’t have to tell him that,” Cross rumbled. “He’s scared enough as is.” Yuri glared. “He needs to know the extent of the danger that is involved in this for all of us. Raphael gave him one guardian from each choir to give him a better chance at survival, but the odds are still against him. With this we have a fighting chance. I’m not keen on confronting any of the damned down in the pit. Are you?” “My lord gave me a pass on that. A resurrection potion that will bring back an angel,” Bren said suddenly. Yuri snorted. “So if only one of us die, we can bring him back. That gives me comfort. What happens when Michel and I both kick it? How are you going to chose who to bring back and who to damn?” “With that fucking attitude of yours, you’re not even on the damn ‘maybe’ list,” Bren snapped. “Stop yelling,” Madigan interrupted. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I’ll do it. I’ll bind myself to everyone.” His eyes opened, and he looked at each angel. “I won’t risk any of your lives if I can help it. It’s not fair and this is a rush, but whatever. I want you, and I would’ve slept with all of you if Yuri hadn’t shown up and interrupted things.” “Raphael forbid—” Cross began. “Do you really think that you would’ve stopped if I would’ve begged you to fuck me?” Madigan interrupted with a glare. Cross opened his mouth and closed it again. “That’s what I thought. No reason to put this off.” He stood. “Let’s go do this.” “We still haven’t agreed to mate with one another yet!” Bren protested. Madigan raised an eyebrow at him. “You and Cross need to put that elementary school bullshit behind you. You’re working together. Deal with it. If I have to mate with a bunch of guys that I just met,

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then you can deal with whatever emotional issues you two have going.” Yuri stood and walked so that he was standing in front of Madigan. “Thank you.” He whispered the words. He knelt on the ground at Madigan’s feet. “You’ve saved us with this solution, Madigan. I know this is hard, but I pledge that I will do whatever is in my power to make you happy.” Madigan reached down and ran his hand through Yuri’s hair. “I know you will, Yuri. Sorry I’m a little wigged out by this.” His body throbbed in triumph, knowing that momentarily he would be surrounded by all of his men again. His men. Hmm, not yet. But soon they would be. “Come on, guys. Let’s do this.”

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Chapter Thirteen They climbed the stairs in silence. Michel stared at the tight ass in front of him and sighed in appreciation. He was glad that Madigan had agreed to this. This felt right. Like destiny or something close to it. “You are certain this will help us keep him safe?” Michel asked. Yuri walked beside him as they climbed the stairs. They’d worked together before, many times actually. He wasn’t a bad guy by any stretch of the imagination. He was just blunt with a mouth that just didn’t stop running. “Yes. I’m certain.” Yuri’s eyes hadn’t strayed from Madigan’s body as they climbed. He was leading them all to the bedroom. He was such a brave boy. “I feel selfish when I say that I am not going to mind making him mine for less-than-noble reasons.” Michel nodded. He felt the same way. He was excited at the prospect. Even the bond between him and the other angels was acceptable to him. They were good men. Strong men. Men that he would’ve chosen a consort from anyways given a chance. They reached the landing, and Yuri slid alongside him, smearing the scent of mint and mango that was uniquely Yuri along his body. Michel shivered. “Reminds me of old times, eh, Michel?” Of course Yuri would bring that up. They’d tussled a time or two after battles on the plain of Gehenna. Michel’s cock hardened further. They had been very enjoyable tussles. “Don’t fucking touch me,” Bren snapped as Cross and he tried to go through the door to the biggest bedroom at the same time.

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“Don’t worry about that, princess. I don’t really want to,” Cross returned. Michel sighed. How were they ever going to achieve a true bond if those two wouldn’t get along? “Where the body goes, my friend,” Dex spoke from behind him as if he read his mind. Michel nodded. They could only hope. “You two stop it,” Madigan said with a roll of his eyes. He was nervous. Michel could tell by the slight trembling of his limbs. “What are you going to do if we don’t, bright eyes?” Bren asked. Madigan climbed onto the bed and began stripping again. God, that was a delicious sight. The look he gave Bren was pure mischief. “I’m going to beg Dex to shove his huge cock up your ass while Michel fucks your face so that you can’t protest.” Michel’s mouth went dry at the mental picture of that. He’d never looked at Bren in a sexual way before but now… “Hmmm, like that idea, Michel?” Madigan asked him. He had stripped his shirt, and the light played off of his tightly packed abs. Michel nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Bren’s dark eyes widened almost comically. It was if he couldn’t believe that Michel could actually want to participate in what Madigan suggested. Michel almost laughed. He was one of Michael’s warriors. It was his nature to indulge himself in pleasures of the flesh. And all of Madigan’s guardians were the epitome of heavenly beauty. Out of all the angels, he wagered that he was the most comfortable with this situation. Though without the comforting presence of Madigan leading them toward this joining, he highly doubted that he would be given the opportunity to indulge in his own personal fantasies. Yuri caught his eyes knowingly, and they darkened to a burnished gold. “Everyone strip,” he commanded. His gaze turned to Madigan, who tensed. “I won’t touch you until you’re ready, little one.” He made the promise with a slight smile on his lips. Madigan relaxed a fraction of an inch and nodded.

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The rest of the warriors stripped. Michel licked his lips and glanced around at the collection of angels all preparing to go all out to do their duty. He groaned as Madigan kicked out of his pants. Doing his duty had never been so fucking good. **** Madigan swallowed. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. His body was rioting happily. His hard length belied the fact that he’d come an hour ago. He was hard as stone. His hand trailed up and down his stomach so that he wouldn’t be tempted to wrap it around his dick and start jerking it off to the five gorgeous men in the room with him. “I haven’t been with anyone in a while,” he admitted to the room. They all gave a collective growl of approval that made him blush. “I pledge myself to you, Madigan,” Yuri said. “I pledge myself to you, Madigan,” Michel echoed. The others spoke the same words, repeating the phrase. Was that it? He felt a moment of disappointment. He’d always imagined that his marriage ceremony would be a little more…elaborate. He shook his head to clear it. There was no place for those sorts of thoughts here. He needed to just enjoy his men. They were beautiful and deserved his full attention. He wondered who would reach for him first. Still, they hesitated. Why were they hesitating? He was nervous enough as is without them holding back. “We’ll take care of you, bright eyes,” Bren offered. He had a deep hunger in his eyes. Madigan’s eyes dropped to his protruding arousal. Yum. “Any way you need, Madigan,” Cross added. They were competing for him…again. Madigan sighed, a burst of anger going through him. It wasn’t supposed to be that way. His eyes went to Michel as Yuri ran a hand down the angel’s back, eliciting a shiver of response. Why couldn’t Cross and Bren be open to each other’s

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touch? Dex started nuzzling Yuri’s neck, his tongue darting out and caressing his nape. Madigan groaned at the sight. He patted the bed. “Come closer.” They all moved slowly but deliberately toward him. His body shuddered in want. One by one they climbed onto the bed. They barely all fit. If their wings were out, there would’ve been no way. He licked his lips and reached for Michel. He seemed much more comfortable. Their lips met, tangled. Michel’s easy hands ran up and down his sides. It was both relaxing and incredibly arousing. The kiss deepened, and he was pressed against Michel from knee to lips. Michel’s big hands grabbed his buttocks and kneaded the tight muscle he found there. Bren was suddenly at his back, licking his neck and grinding his hard cock against his ass. Michel’s hands grabbed Bren’s hips and brought him even more flush against him. The three-sixtydegree embrace made him dizzy. Dex produced a small tube of lubrication from God knew where and handed it to Bren. Madigan broke the kiss and gave Dex a smile of thanks. Michel didn’t miss a beat. Instead, he continued to kiss down his lover’s chest. “I–I don’t know if I can do this.” Cross’s trembling voice was shocking. Madigan tilted his head to the side and saw Yuri on his belly in front of Cross, ready to take Cross’s thick cock into his mouth. “Oh, for the love of God. Don’t be a drama queen. Doesn’t Raphael ever let you get laid?” Bren’s smart mouth went off expectedly. Madigan reached around and popped him on the mouth with his hand. “Knock it off. Not all of us are used to orgies,” Madigan said gently. He looked at Michel. “Do you mind…” “Not at all, cutey,” Michel said, reading his mind. He gave him a soft kiss. “I’ll get my turn soon enough.” As soon as Michel backed off, Michel was embraced by Yuri. The brown-haired angel crawled on him like a jungle gym, devouring his

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mouth as he went. Madigan sighed. That was a wonderful sight. His sex jumped as his hormones kicked into overdrive. This felt so good. “Bren, I’m going to need your help with this. I need you to be supportive.” He looked into the unreal depths of his soon-to-be lover’s eyes. “Can you do that, Bren? No smart-ass comments?” The dark-haired angel nodded, and Bren shuddered as if anticipating the pleasure to come. Madigan reached out and took Cross’s hand. “Come on, Cross,” he whispered. “Be with me. Be with…us.” The two angels’ eyes met. There seemed to be a silent exchange occurring between them because when they touched him again, they did so as one. Madigan gasped as rough male hands gripped his hips while another set pinched his already pebbled nipples. “You’re beautiful, bright eyes,” Bren complimented from behind him. Madigan cupped Cross’s face and brought it down for a soft kiss. “You okay?” “Oh hell, Madigan. We’re supposed to be protecting you. Not the other way around,” Cross murmured. He pressed his lips against Madigan’s. “Don’t worry about me, baby. I got this.” Bren pressed soft kisses to the nape of Madigan’s neck, licking the sensitive skin before delivering little bites on the wet flesh. It was Madigan’s turn to shiver. It felt good to have his men against him. The dark-haired angel’s hands ran down his sides to cup the tight globes of his buttocks, separating them slightly. Cross came closer so that they were pressed snugly against one another. Madigan’s hands crept up his shoulders as the big angel deepened the kiss, their tongues dancing in feverish delight. “Hmmm that’s hot.” Bren’s words made Madigan moan into the warm recesses of Cross’s mouth. Then something warm and wet pressed against Madigan’s tight rosette. He jumped. Bren’s chuckle made some of the tension go out of his limbs. “Easy, baby. Just warming you up.” His voice sounded lower than it had a second ago, and Madigan couldn’t resist a peek over his shoulder. Bren’s mouth

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was hovering over Madigan’s spread cheeks. He met his eyes and leaned forward, giving Madigan’s unoccupied entrance a deep lap of his tongue. “Holy shit!” he squeaked. No one had ever done that to him before. It felt good, a little odd, but good. Bren did it again, deepening the kiss that he was giving Madigan’s tight ring. The nephilim panted. Cross’s hand wrapped around his swollen cock from in front of him as if drawing his attention back to him. The dual sensations made Madigan’s eyes roll as they started a rhythm. Bren gave teasing licks of his tongue in a slow, steady pace, loosening his backside while Cross pulled and twisted the head of his dick in a way that let Madigan get right to the edge but never let him fall off of it. Two fingers slid into his tight sheath, wiggling around until they scored the tiny knot of pleasure inside him. He was whimpering in need. His instincts clamored at him that he needed to be fucked and fucked hard. Fucked by all of them. His eyes went to the other men, his other men. Yuri was deep throating Michel’s hard cock while Dex pounded into him behind. All of their eyes were on Madigan and the two men he was in between. He shuddered. Hell yes. He couldn’t wait for more. “Bren,” he groaned. “I don’t want to wait anymore.” The fingers almost immediately withdrew, and the pop of the lid for the lubrication followed. Good. He needed to be filled like the sun needed to rise and set every day. It was necessary for his sanity. The sound of Dex’s flesh slapping against Michel’s while Yuri slurped him like an ice-cream cone was more than Madigan’s sexually starved body could handle. He tore his eyes away to look down at Cross’s hand as it pumped up and down his shaft. His mouth started to water. “Hm, will you let me suck you, Cross?” he asked huskily. He knew he had to look as desperate as he felt. He was practically thrumming with desire. “Oh please!” Michel cried out at Madigan’s words. “Want to see that mouth wrapped around you, Cross. Want it bad.” Dex growled

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and bit his shoulder, which only made Michel groan more enthusiastically. The way he started to rock forward harder told Madigan that Dex was liking the image and the idea as well. “Yes.” Cross’s growl was unexpected and possessive. It seemed like once he made his mind up about something there was no further hesitation. That was good because Madigan was dying for a taste. He bent from the waist, and Cross spread his legs to get a firmer stance. Without preamble, he took Cross to the back of his throat, groaning at the taste of sweat, salt, and man that accompanied the action. Secretly, he’d always loved to suck dick. His enthusiasm in the past had entertained more than one college boyfriend. But none of them mattered now. They all paled in comparison to the incredible men now in his bed. He knew his position brought him down on all fours, offering up his backside like a twink in a shady bathroom-hookup spot, but he didn’t care. Bren’s lubed fingers probed his hole for a second before he replaced them with the thick, spongy head of his cock. Madigan trembled, sucking on Cross’s cockhead in an effort to keep from screaming his victory to the heavens. “God! So friggin’ tight, bright eyes,” Bren groaned through gritted teeth. He pushed forward slowly, but he was still big enough and it had been long enough for Madigan that the nephilim cried out in part pain and pleasure. “Slowly, Bren,” Cross commanded, beginning shallow thrusts of his own into Madigan’s willing mouth. “You’ll hurt him.” “I’m going as slow as I know how!” Bren snarled above him. He gave a cruel stroke into Madigan’s tight ass. The nephilim whimpered around Cross’s cock. “Not slow enough!” Cross snapped back. He was so overprotective. Madigan drew off his length with an audible pop. “Shut the fuck up, Cross. Bren feels so good. Concentrate on giving me your

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pleasure. Stop worrying so much.” Cross looked down at him with a kind and equally lusty expression. “Just want to make sure you’re okay.” He said the words a little sheepishly. Bren began to pump his hips in earnest now, and Madigan was having a hard time concentrating on the conversation. He wanted Cross just as desperate as the rest of them were. “I’ll be okay if you fuck my mouth until you come down my throat.” The naughty words darkened Cross’s expression. Yes. Madigan internally gave a whoop of triumph. Cross took his cock in hand and fed it back into Madigan’s mouth. “Such a bad boy, Madigan,” Cross rumbled, fucking his wet cavern with abandon. He was finally giving Madigan what he wanted, and he couldn’t have been happier. Cross’s long rod was intermittently choking him, so Madigan relaxed the back of his throat and closed his eyes, giving himself up to the sensation. Behind him, Bren changed the angle of his thrusts so that each lunge forward slapped his prostate. Yes. Yes. Just like that. Oh God! Just like that. Madigan took up chanting in his mind as he was propelled toward the edge of bliss. Somewhere to his side, Michel gave a cry of completion, pushing Madigan that much closer. Bren grunted his need, his hips losing their steady pace as he, too, neared the precipice. “Oh shit, I’m goin’ to come, bright eyes. So fucking tight around me.” Bren’s sentence ended in a groan, and Madigan felt the oh-soincredible sensation of Bren’s cum splashing against the internal walls of his ass. Madigan cried out. Wherever the sticky substance touched seemed to create a blaze within him. It was madness in liquid form, and he shook with the force of his feelings. He came immediately, unable to stop the demands of his body as he ejaculated hard against the coverlet. He suckled eagerly on Cross’s dick. He needed his hot spunk in his mouth. Needed it like a thirsty man needed water. He was mindless for want of it. Cross shouted his release as the first thick

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ropes of semen hit the back of Madigan’s throat. Madigan whimpered gratefully, strumming his tongue up and down the thick cock, milking it for more of the salty, sweet madness that flowed in a river from the tip. He luxuriated it in. Wanted to fucking drown in it. After a few minutes of grateful slurping, Madigan pulled off Cross’s softening length. He licked his lips, searching for another drop that he’d possibly missed. His body was vibrating like he was in heat or something. Instead of quelling the fire of need inside him, the angels’ release just seemed to incite him further. “What’s wrong with him?” Cross panted, leaning against the headboard. Madigan made a little noise of want and reached down to grasp his already hard-as-stone cock. He felt like he would never release enough to stop the maddening sensation of desire that was swirling through him like lava in his veins. Yuri slithered up to their side of the bed and curled against Bren’s resting form. “Angelic transition. He needs to feel like he mated with all of us for the binding to be complete.” He palmed his own hard dick. “We can’t find satisfaction unless we’ve satisfied his need, either.” “Oh God!” Madigan groaned, twisting the head of his erection. He sobbed at the feeling. “I need. I need so bad.” He glanced at Dex. “You. Please. You.” Dex’s anaconda dick looked like it would be up to the job of fucking him into oblivion. He didn’t have to tell Gabriel’s angel twice. He threw himself across the space that separated them, nearly causing Cross to fall out of the bed in the process. Madigan got on his knees and motioned for Dex to lie down. “Want to ride you.” His limbs were already trembling from the exertion of the moment before, but he didn’t care. He crawled up Dex’s prone body, took his big dick in hand, and lowered himself onto his massive length. “Yes!” Dex screamed. Madigan bounced up and down on the rod beneath him, desperately seeking his pleasure. Dex grabbed his hips

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and started slamming up into him. Madigan threw back his head and cried out. He wanted Dex’s fiery liquid to fill him. Yet he knew it wasn’t enough. “Yuri, Michel, come here.” The words were strangled and disjointed from the force of Dex’s thrusts. “Looks like I’m up.” Yuri pressed a kiss to Bren’s mouth, and the dark-haired angel allowed it. Madigan thought that watching them touch was almost as good as being touched by them. Almost. “Thought you didn’t want me to touch you yet, little one,” Yuri murmured, positioning himself to Madigan’s right. Michel mirrored him on Madigan’s left. Madigan reached up and grasped both of their erections in his fists. Both angels gasped. Madigan felt drunk off these men. “I need you all with me. All of you.” He ground his eager buttocks down on Dex’s hardness so that it dragged against his pleasure spot. He arranged them so that both of them had one leg straddled over Dex’s head. He leaned forward and took Michel into his mouth and used his other hand to jerk Yuri’s veiny cock. In no time flat they were all four near their second peak. Madigan felt Cross and Bren at his back, heard them as they played with their arousals in time to Dex’s thrusts. Madigan forced Yuri’s and Michel’s cocks together so that he could suck on both of the plushy heads at the same time. Each put a hand in his hair, pushing his head down on them. He could only, barely, fit the tip of each in his mouth, but it felt so incredible. Below him, Dex gasped, and he felt the answering flood of fluid shoot up into his body to mix with the seed that Bren had left there. Madigan’s eyes rolled. He massaged Michel and Yuri’s tight sacs desperately. Almost there. So close. He was delirious with pleasure. They jetted into his mouth in unison, giving him what he desperately needed. The combination of seed was too much, and some escaped his mouth, splashing against his cheeks and chin. Bren’s and Cross’s spunk hit his back, leaving sticky proof of their want trailing

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down his spine. He screamed as Dex wrapped his hand around his pounding arousal, forcing another orgasm from him so that Madigan’s pleasure hit Dex’s chest and neck. He shuddered as it went on and on. The nephilim screamed until his throat was hoarse. Finally, Madigan had nothing left to give and slumped from his position on Dex’s lap. Careful hands grasped his shoulders and drew him off Dex’s cock. The smell of sex and angels surrounded him. “Get a washcloth,” Cross’s commanding voice murmured as he drew him in between Bren and himself. Madigan licked his lips in a daze. He closed his eyes in utter contentment. He’d never felt so satisfied. Bare feet hit the floor and moved away from the bed. Madigan forced his eyes open. No. He wanted all of them with him. “Easy, bright eyes. Michel just went to grab a washcloth to clean you up a bit. He’ll be right back. I promise.” He relaxed at Bren’s reassurance, snuggling to his side. “You okay, baby?” Cross asked tenderly. A cool, wet cloth passed over his skin. He opened his mouth to reply, but he was so tired he just yawned. “He’s a little euphoric right now, Cross,” Yuri provided, echoing Madigan with a louder yawn. “Let him sleep.” “Is there enough room for everyone?” Michel wondered. Madigan reached out blindly and was rewarded with Michel’s soft grip on his hand. “I think he wants us all to stay.” Madigan wanted to agree. He really did. He was just so bloody sleepy. He yawned again. “Then we will stay,” Dex said. His voice allowed no room for argument. Madigan sighed happily, settled into the combined embrace of his guardians, and slid into dreamland.

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Chapter Fourteen “Cross!” The shout startled Cross out of a dead sleep. He jumped, rolling to his feet off the bed and drawing his sword of light in one fell move. He would defend Madigan to the death if necessary. Divine light surrounded him, and he was suddenly no longer in the bedroom that they’d shared but in a whitewashed room devoid of anything but curling, white fog that swirled about his ankles. He was in the In Between, the place between worlds, between heaven and Earth. Only one being would’ve summoned him here. He went to his knees, his sword dissolving. “My lord Raphael.” The breeze of huge wings kicked up a breeze and ruffled his hair. “I sent you to watch him, not seduce him!” The piercing shout made Cross wince. “You wanted him safe, my lord. We’ve made him safe.” “You married him without even consulting me.” Raphael’s disappointed tone made Cross’s chest ache. He was intimately connected to his Archangel. Raphael was almost like a father to him. “I had hoped you two would find love and affection with one another but not like this.” The Archangel sighed and raked a hand through his long, red hair. “Never like this.” “You gave the instructions to all of us to protect him no matter what,” Cross argued. “We made the ultimate decision to join with him.” Eyes the exact shade of Madigan’s bore into him, making him shift uncomfortably. “You are now bound in a way that is irrevocable. You can’t return to the heavens, and he cannot die.” He sighed. “You will have to protect him with the others for the rest of eternity.”

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The idea did not upset Cross nearly as much as it should have. While he was still unsure of how it was going to work between himself and the others, he knew that he could very easily fall in love with Madigan Parker. He’d try very hard not to kill Bren in the future. It would make the smaller man sad if he did. Raphael crossed his arms over his chest, and his light increased tenfold. Cross was blinded by it. “You don’t even care about that, do you?” “No, my lord. I don’t care about that. I do care for your son.” “It’s too soon.” “How long would you have us wait? A year? Ten years? A hundred years?” Cross wondered. “I respect you, my lord Raphael. I have served you faithfully since before the Fall. I find myself uncaring of the dedication that I have to give to Madigan. He needs me. Perhaps more than you, my lord.” “You need him as well, Cross. More than you know.” Raphael sighed. “Go and be with him then. He will be the keeper of your will now.” Cross bowed low enough that his forehead grazed the mist. “Thank you, Raphael. I’m grateful for the assignment you gave me. I am happy in this position.” Happier than he could even admit to himself. “Your path is not an easy one.” Raphael petted him on the head. “I couldn’t have chosen better for my son, though.” Cross lowered his head and smiled into the mist. “Thank you, my lord.” He paused. “My lord?” “What is it, Cross?” Cross hesitated but kept going. “Have you ever been in love?” Raphael turned his back to Cross’s kneeling body. His red hair fell around his face like a veil. “Once.” “Madigan’s mother?”

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Raphael laughed and turned his head just far enough to meet Cross’s eyes. “No. Madigan’s mother and I joined for our mutual pleasure, and we’ve been friends ever since.” “Who then, my lord?” Cross asked curiously. Raphael waved his hand in dismissal. “Someone best forgotten. Tell my son I said congratulations on your joining.” **** “Where is he?” Madigan demanded for the fiftieth time since they’d all been awakened by Cross’s shout this morning. It was well after noon, and there was still no sign of him. Dex massaged the tension in Madigan’s shoulders. The younger man was fretting needlessly. “I felt the summons, Madigan. I promise you. He is with your father,” Dex said for the hundredth time. Madigan had refused to eat until he had “proof.” “How do you know that?” Madigan demanded. How to explain that he just “knew” things? As one of Archangel Gabriel’s angels of death, he had a sixth sense that defied all logical mandates. He had been connected to all of Madigan’s guardians since they’d been bound together for Madigan’s protection, and the remnants of the binding that they’d invoked last night had only deepened his awareness of the other angels. He simply knew that Cross was with Raphael and would be home soon. As soon as Cross crossed into one plane from the In Between, he could reach out and touch him mind to mind. “I just know, Madigan. Please calm down.” Dex pressed a kiss to Madigan’s neck. He was feeling extraordinarily affectionate today. It had to have been last night that had done it. There was no other explanation.

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He was surprised when Madigan leaned back into his touch. The nephilim was getting more and more comfortable with them. It was an incredible gift to touch and be touched in return without the necessity of a reason. Michel picked that moment to walk through the open doorway. “I’ve checked the boundaries. All are secure. The hunters may have been flirting with the edges, checking the sanctuary, but they haven’t started testing the strength of the walls yet.” He sauntered right up to Madigan, who was perched on the edge of the barstool. He wouldn’t even sit at the kitchen table. “Any sign of Cross?” Madigan asked predictably. Michel smiled that crooked smile of his, his blue eyes sparkling. “Still worried about Cross, eh?” Madigan squirmed. “Yeah. A little. Dex says he’s fine, but I want to see for myself.” He shot Dex what the angel interpreted as an apologetic look over his shoulder. Dex just kissed the boy’s head. “Well, if you don’t eat something before he gets back, he’s going to be pissed at the rest of us for not taking care of you,” Michel chastised gently. Huh. Why didn’t I think of that? It should’ve been an obvious solution to Madigan’s stubbornness. Granted, a guilt trip wasn’t normally a solution that Dex would employ, but if it got Madigan to eat, then he was willing to use it. “Why don’t you let Dex fix you an egg omelet or something? You really liked his pancakes, and I bet he’s got more awesome recipes that he’d be willing to share for a price.” The angel waggled his eyebrows at Madigan, who blushed nicely. Dex felt his own cheeks heating. Michel was just like the Archangel Michael, incorrigible. Madigan turned his head and looked up into Dex’s face. The angel readied himself for another argument and was surprised when the nephilim requested an egg, cheese, and spinach omelet instead. With toast. “Coming right up,” Dex murmured. He went to turn and walk around the bar so that he could get into the fridge, but Madigan

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grabbed his arm. Cooking had been his secret passion since the invention of the cooking channel, and he had been watching it for twenty-plus years. Needless to say, he was very popular among other angels in his choir. He’d learned a long time ago that a good hot meal was the cure-all for the high stress that being an angel of death invoked on a daily basis. He looked down at the hand that gripped him. “What is it, Madigan? Do you want something else instead?” Madigan shook his head, looking embarrassed, and tugged on Dex’s collar. “Kiss me?” Dex felt a pang of happiness well up inside him. He’d never had anyone express such a desire for his touch. Though he’d had his share of angelic partners, there had always been an understanding of the temporary nature of their joining. Madigan was one he got to keep. “Of course.” He leaned down and claimed Madigan’s lips, trying to express without words what the simple gesture of desire meant to him. It was so nice being wanted for more than his skills as an angel. Their kiss deepened, and their tongues danced. After an endless moment he drew back, breaking their kiss. Madigan needed to eat, and Dex needed to get his head out of the bedroom. At least for now. Madigan blinked, dazed. Dex couldn’t resist ruffling his hair in affection. It was hard to believe they’d known this intriguing creature for forty-eight hours. “Is it always going to feel like this?” Madigan whispered as Dex stepped around the bar and started digging into a cabinet under the counter for some pans. “Feel like what, Madigan?” Dex asked. Where did he put that skillet he’d used yesterday to make pancakes? He hadn’t done the dishes, so he had no idea. It wasn’t where it was originally… “Three doors over, in the back,” Michel chimed in, reading his mind. “Will it always feel like I’m happily drowning whenever I’m touching one of you?” Madigan answered Dex’s question finally.

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Dex popped his head above the counter to look at the nephilim. “I have no idea. I’ve never been joined before.” “I hear pots banging. Is breakfast coming now?” Bren’s snarky voice called from the hallway. “If you want me to fix you an omelet, you better play nice,” Dex replied, pointing a spatula at the other man as he came through the doorway. “I’m always nice. Practically cooperative even,” Bren said as he slid his arms around Madigan from behind and gave him a tight hug. “Hey, bright eyes. Hungry?” Madigan sighed. “Michel said Cross would yell at you guys for my hunger strike if I hadn’t eaten by the time he gets back.” The dark-haired angel snorted. “Nice, Michel.” “I think I’m positively brilliant,” Michel snipped cheerfully. Dex extricated the carton of eggs from the refrigerator as well as cheese, spinach, and milk. His life had certainly taken a path in a strange direction. This felt homey. It was odd considering they were all practically strangers. He glanced at the three other men in the room. He’d touched and been touched by them. Yet he didn’t feel awkward by the admission like he normally would have. “You’re thinking naughty thoughts, Dexirus.” Yuri tsked. Where the hell he’d come from was anyone’s guess. The guy seemed to just pop into places out of nowhere. His strong arms wrapped around Dex’s waist as he cracked some eggs into a large bowl and began to whisk. Yuri was almost as tall as he was, which was saying something considering Dex was well over six and a half feet. “I am not thinking anything of the sort,” Dex murmured as Yuri leaned into his back and rubbed against him. Dex was intensely aware of Madigan’s small gasp of pleasure at the sight. The boy certainly loved to watch them touch each other. “Liar.” Yuri bit his earlobe in punishment, causing the big angel to growl. “Stop that. Didn’t you get enough last night?”

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“Stop using him as a humping post, Yuri. We’ll never get breakfast if you keep it up,” Bren protested. Yuri laughed. “Don’t glare at me like that, Bren. I’m just showing appreciation for Dex’s cooking skills.” A snort sounded, probably Bren again. “I think we all know which sort of Dex’s ‘skills’ you were showing appreciation for.” “Madigan!” Yuri wailed, clutching Dex from behind even tighter and snaking one hand southward to fondle him through the basketball shorts he was wearing. Dex jumped. “Madigan, defend me!” The drama Yuri put into that statement had Dex giving a deep chuckle of amusement. Uriel’s angel was crazy. “Yuri, leave him alone,” Madigan said, laughing. “I’m hungry.” Yuri sighed and gave Dex’s neck another wet kiss. “I’m the only one who appreciates you, Dex. Seriously. Remember this moment.”

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Chapter Fifteen Bren was typically not one for hallmark moments, but this one was surreal. He sat at the bar holding Madigan in his lap, watching the human eat his omelet and exchange goo-goo eyes with his guardians. He’d known his bright eyes was kinky, but this surpassed even Bren’s expectations. It was like they were some kind of family or something. He felt rather than saw the portal open outside from the In Between. Cross was back. A small niggle of resentment wormed its way into his mind, and he clutched Madigan’s waist more tightly. He had no problem sharing Madigan because it just seemed…right somehow. What he had a problem with was the way Cross acted like he wanted Madigan all to himself. Bren had never wanted anything like he wanted Madigan. The first second Lord Lucifer had showed him the image of the nephilim he was supposed to guard, he’d been lost. The prospect of being this close to Madigan only to have Cross take him away was an idea that Bren simply couldn’t tolerate. He knew they were supposed to be all bonding together, but how could they bond when Bren distrusted Cross so much? “Cross is back, Madigan,” Dex supplied before taking a deep gulp out of his huge glass of orange juice. Madigan stopped midchew. The sound of the front door slamming had Madigan hopping off of Bren’s lap and taking off in the direction of the entrance. Bren sighed and rose to follow. Sanctuary laws said that no immortal could enter who hadn’t gotten express permission from the owner of the house or Raphael, but Bren wasn’t taking any chances.

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He turned the corner just in time to see Madigan throw himself into the red-haired angel’s arms. Bren crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe. His heart tripped over itself. It was a beautiful sight to see even if Bren had such deep reservations about Cross. Madigan scattered kisses across Cross’s face and clucked like a worried chicken over where Cross had gone and why he hadn’t said anything. Blah. Blah. Blah. Sappy didn’t come close to describing the scene. Cross’s eyes rose from Madigan’s face and met Bren’s gaze. A thrill went through Bren that annoyed the shit out of him. He didn’t want to feel anything when Cross looked at him. This bonding thing was bullshit. “Bren,” Cross greeted, nodding his head in acknowledgement. “What’d your lord want?” Bren demanded, ignoring the tenderness he felt growing inside him. Cross shrugged. That meant everything and nothing and both. Bren rolled his eyes. What the hell? “He said to tell Madigan congratulations on our joining. He’s happy that Madigan is going to have a congregation of strong men to take care of him.” “Don’t you mean that Raphael was happy that his son hooked up with one of his angels?” Bren sneered. “That sounds much more realistic.” Cross frowned. “What’s with the attitude, Bren? I just walked through the door. Can you give me a break?” “Sure. Whatever. This is me giving you a break.” Bren turned and stomped up the stairs. Anger, resentment, and worry were practically rolling off of him in waves. Raphael probably called Cross to tell him how to get rid of the other angels who’d mated his son. No way could the Archangel be okay with Madigan joining with, not only multiple partners, but partners from different choirs. It just wasn’t done. Even among angels, they stayed with their own. He found his way into the bathroom and started the water for the shower. He’d always loved running water. It cleared his mind like

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nothing else, made him relax when the tension in his shoulders and back became almost unbearable. Too bad the shower wasn’t big enough for him to have his wings out. The slice of water from a showerhead felt incredible on his feathers. It also made them waterlogged, but Bren couldn’t find it in himself to complain even when he was grounded for several hours because of it. A soft knock sounded on the door. “Bren, it’s me.” Madigan’s soft inquiry came out muffled through the wood of the door. “I’m just grabbing a shower, Madigan. Go finish breakfast,” Bren replied loud enough for Madigan to hear. He stepped through the curtain and into the spray. He tilted his head back and groaned as the jets caressed his scalp. He heard the creak of the knob turning and knew Madigan wasn’t listening to him. “Yeah, whatever. You’re sulking.” Madigan pulled back the shower curtain and glared at Bren. The angel closed his eyes to block out the image. He didn’t want Madigan pissed at him, but dammit, he wasn’t used to hiding how he felt about anything. “Look at me. Now.” Bren reluctantly pried his eyes open and gave Madigan his full attention. The concern he saw swirling in the depths of his lover’s irises made him swallow guiltily. He shouldn’t have made Madigan worry over him. He had enough to worry about. Damn my impulsiveness. “You’re worried, Bren, and all of it revolves around Cross. Want to tell me what is going on?” “I really don’t want to go there.” Bren turned, breaking Madigan’s gaze, and snatched up the bodywash. It smelled like tangerine or something else citrusy. Hard fingers pinched his arm. “Ouch,” Bren yelped. He rubbed the area with his hand and glared at Madigan. “What was that for?” “For being a stubborn ass.” Madigan’s hands were planted on his hips like he was preparing to chew Bren’s head off. Whatever. “You were fine twenty minutes ago. What has changed?” Bren swallowed hard. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

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“Tough shit, Bren. If you want this to work between us, you’re going to have to talk to me about things that make you a little uncomfortable. That’s what being in a relationship is like. You have to communicate.” “I—” He hesitated. “I don’t—” Madigan gave a frustrated sound and shoved his pants to his ankles before kicking them off and stepping into the already too-small shower stall, crowding Bren despite their size difference. “I don’t care if you don’t want to talk. Talk to me.” “You like him more than the rest of us!” Bren blurted before he could stop himself. He felt his cheeks heating and stared doggedly at the white walls around him. Anywhere but at Madigan. “So that’s what this is about,” Madigan said softly. His hands touched Bren’s chest, which only made the angel want to get away from him faster. Bren didn’t want Madigan to be so understanding and perfect. It would hurt less if Bren could just stop thinking and caring so much about the other male. He didn’t want to want Madigan like this. “You think Cross is going to take me away from you all?” Bren nodded curtly. “Cross was the one who sent me up here to check on you. I wanted to let you pout by yourself. I don’t really tolerate temper tantrums very well.” Madigan paused, and a small smile lit up his face. “Well, unless I’m throwing them.” “I’m sorry.” Bren’s voice was barely audible. He hated apologizing. Hated it passionately. But he felt like he should apologize for being pissy...again. Madigan hugged him around the waist, laying his head on Bren’s pectoral muscle. The angel immediately ensconced his lover in a tighter embrace. “Bren, the point I’m trying to make with this isn’t to make you apologize. Cross sent me. He was worried about you. Despite you guys’ animosity toward one another, he’s reaching out to you through me. He really wants to make this thing between us mean something and be fulfilling. I know there are a lot of ‘what-ifs’

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floating around. Trust me. I get that. Hell, I don’t even really know you all, and Yuri I met, what? Twelve hours ago? My body reacts to you guys. All of you. Equally. I don’t know if that’s going to develop into something deeper, but I hope it does. I’m not the kind of person to be sexually involved with someone and not have something more to it, you know? It took a lot for me to agree to this bond to begin with because of the length of time, and lack thereof, that I’ve known you. I’m not asking you to become best friends with Cross or anything, but can you at least try to get to know him a little more before you decide that he’s Satan?” Madigan winced at the phrasing as he seemed to realize what he said. Bren was one of Lucifer’s after all. Bren smothered a laugh, but his shoulders shook at the wide-eyed look of apology that Madigan gave him. “I will try for you, bright eyes,” Bren promised. He kissed Madigan’s temple. “I feel really high maintenance. I normally hate that quality in men. I’m sorry.” That was the second time he’d apologized today. It had to be a record for his lifetime. He was sure of it. Madigan pressed another kiss to his chest. “For the record, Bren, I really do like you and Cross equally. I don’t have favorites. He’s just…easier, you know? He makes me feel safe and comfortable all the time. You take me out of my comfort zone, and I love that, but you’re not what I’m used to. You push my limits.” When he whispered it against Bren’s chest, following it with a soft kiss ending in a lick, those words did not seem too bad. The smell of nephilim filled the now-steamy air. It made Bren feel a little light-headed. It smelled like plumeria or something equally exotic to him. “Madigan,” Bren groaned as his body started to harden. “Sorry, pubescent angel sex drive. Remember?” The boy rubbed against him deliberately. “The hot water won’t last forever,” Bren reminded. Madigan all but purred, “So keep me warm.”

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Bren growled, the noise low and feral. He should really insist that they get out and get Madigan into a warm bed before they started playing around, but damn it all, Madigan did not play fair in the least. He wasn’t a good guy like Cross. He lifted Madigan’s legs and wrapped them around his waist before sliding into the hot core that welcomed him. No, he wasn’t a good guy. But Madigan preferred him that way.

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Chapter Sixteen “I give myself to you, Yuri. With this ring I am bound,” Madigan repeated dutifully as Yuri slid a platinum bracelet on his wrist next to the ones Cross, Bren, and Dex had already given him. It was an angelic version of a wedding band except each band of metal was engraved with sigils of protection in a swirling angelic script that Madigan couldn’t read. The whirring sound of a tattoo gun was the only oddity to this private wedding. Instead of wearing jewelry like Madigan, Michel was inking matching sigils along with Madigan’s name in a band around each deliciously shirtless angel’s bicep. The angel room was the crowded with these huge men whose wings were in full form behind them. It was primal. Friggin’ hot. “I accept your pledge. You are my consort from this day forth.” As Yuri finished speaking, Dex stood up from Michel’s makeshift tattoo chair, the black ink gleaming with whatever aftercare sludge that Michel had rubbed into his skin. “Nice,” Dex complimented, lifting his arm to exam Michel’s handiwork. “Very artistically done.” Michel smiled and popped his gloved knuckles. “Thanks. Next victim.” Yuri plopped down in the chair and offered his arm. The room was then silent again with the exception of the hum of the machine as it traced the angelic letters on Yuri’s skin, cementing their relationship. Madigan fingered the bands, twirling them around on his wrist. He wished his mom was here. He’d always imagined his mom being there on his wedding day. She’d been planning it since he was five after all. Though she probably hadn’t planned on having five

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other grooms to contend with when she’d started planning. Of course it wasn’t really a wedding. There wasn’t cake. After another minute, Michel snapped his gloves off and came to stand in front of Madigan. Bren put on a pair of gloves and poured another thimble-sized cup of black ink. “Are the gloves necessary? I mean, can you guys even get infection?” Madigan wondered. “Nah, we can’t,” Michel answered. He extracted a band of metal from his jean pocket. “The gloves are to keep the ink from staining our skin. It’s hell trying to wash it off, and it stains.” Madigan laughed at the fastidious angels. Whatever reason he’d imagined for the gloves, that wasn’t it. Michel offered him the band, and Madigan allowed him to slide it onto his wrist. He was going to feel like he had a pocketful of change on his wrist whenever he walked, but it couldn’t be helped. “I give myself to you, Michel. With this ring I am bound.” Madigan repeated the words for the fifth time, and a tingle of “knowing” slithered through his consciousness. He looked at each man in turn, realizing their worth to him. They were truly his now. All of them. A contentment filled him. He felt like all the tension of the past few days had been drained out of him like a boil. “I accept your pledge. You are my consort from this day forth.” Michel leaned forward and kissed Madigan’s lips. “Nice to be hitched to you, cutey.” Madigan couldn’t agree more. He knew whatever obstacles they faced in the future that these men would protect him. Beyond that, he hoped that they would grow to love him. Madigan already felt the first stirrings of deep affection growing deep inside him for each of his guardians. Michel walked a few steps away and sat down for Bren, who immediately set to work on his tattoo. He watched as his men joked about the lack of pomp in their ceremony and what they would have for breakfast tomorrow morning. Bren ribbed Cross for the apparent “girlyness” of his sigils, and Cross

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smacked him on the back of the head in turn. Michel talked avidly with Yuri about other tattoos he’d given other immortals in his time, and Dex nibbled on Yuri’s neck and whispered something in his ear that made Yuri laugh. These beautiful angels were all his, and Madigan looked forward to a future that they could all share. Together. The nephilim smiled softly to himself. He couldn’t wait.

End of Book 1: Angel Bound To be continued in Book 2: Angelic Ties JANADOWNS.BLOGSPOT.COM

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Jana Downs lives in the beautiful mountains of Western North Carolina with three cats, one dog, several dozen fish, and a very understanding partner-in-crime who hates to read but makes exceptions for her stories. You can usually find her either watching bad reality TV, buying way too many books on Amazon, or dreaming up another man or two to occupy her time because life is good but several drop-dead gorgeous nonexistent men is just better.

Also by Jana Downs Siren Allure ManLove: Ravyn Warriors 1: Ravyn’s Blood Siren Allure ManLove: Ravyn Warriors 2: Ravyn’s Heart Siren Allure ManLove: Ravyn Warriors 3: Ravyn’s Destiny Siren Classic ManLove: Ravyn Warriors 4: Ravyn’s Dance

Available at BOOKSTRAND.COM

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com