Renegade Angel

“Don’t you dare die, Ember Riddick.”

“Kay,” she murmured, feeling her world tip and begin to go black again. “Raum?”

“What?”

“Are you my guardian angel?” she asked, and smiled at his snort, which was as much of an answer as anything.

“No,” he finally said.

She dug her fingers more tightly into his shirt, and only fleetingly wondered whether her claws had retracted. Either way, he didn’t flinch, didn’t make a sound. And it no longer mattered, because she was falling, falling, like Alice down the rabbit hole, into a darkness that even she couldn’t see through.

“Save me anyway?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. Then she was gone.

KENDRA LEIGH CASTLE was born and raised in the far and frozen reaches of Northern New York, where there was plenty of time to cultivate her love of reading thanks to the six-month-long winters. Sneaking off with selections from her mother’s vast collection of romance novels came naturally and fairly early, and a lifelong love of the Happily Ever After was born. Her continuing love of heroes who sprout fangs, fur, and/or wings, however, is something no one in her family has yet been able to explain.

After graduating from SUNY Oswego (where it also snowed a lot) with a teaching degree that she did actually plan on using at the time, Kendra ran off with a handsome young Navy fighter pilot. She’s still not exactly sure how, but they’ve managed to accumulate three children, two high-maintenance dogs, and one enormous cat during their many moves. She’s very happy to be able to work in her pajamas, curled up with her laptop and endless cups of coffee, and her enduring love of all things both spooky and steamy means she’s always got another paranormal romance in the works. Kendra currently resides wherever the Navy thinks she ought to, which is Maryland at present. She also has a home on the web at www.kendraleighcastle.com, and loves to hear from her readers. Please stop by and say hello!

Dear Reader,

Thank you for picking up Renegade Angel. I’m very excited to be sharing this, my very first Nocturne™, with you!

I’ve always loved the idea of angels, especially the ornery, sword-carrying kind. This is probably partially because I was once a Catholic schoolgirl with a very active imagination, and partially because my own life has been full of wonderful, unconventional, and yes, even ornery angels. So it’s small wonder that I’d eventually want to write a story featuring a hero with a sword, wings… and a less than angelic disposition. Raum, an ex-angel, is also on the run from Hell, making him for all intents and purposes an ex-demon as well. So where does an ornery supernatural being with wings fit in when he’s caught between angels who’ve hired him to do their dirty work and demons who’ll stop at nothing to see him reduced to soulless cinder?

You, and a woman named Ember Riddick who has quite a few problems of her own, are about to find out. I hope you enjoy watching Raum and Ember find their places in this world … and of course, in one another’s arms … as much as I enjoyed writing their journey.

Happy reading!

Kendra

Renegade

Angel

Kendra Leigh Castle

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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This one’s for my Angels of Sanity—

Marie and Cheryl, for the sisterhood

Donna, Lisa, Ana, Elizabeth, aka “Ms Moonlight”, Jessica, and Leslie, for all the support, cheerleading, and incredible humor, not to mention the fascinating things that continue to turn up in my inbox on a regular basis … couldn’t have written this one without you!

And as always, my wonderful family. Thank you for continuing to live with, and love, my own special brand of crazy

Prologue

He left at twilight, moving swift and silent beneath a deepening blood-red sky. Beyond the gleaming walls of the Infernal City, across the cracked and barren wasteland that rang day and night with the cries of the damned, the crow soared on sooty wings toward the gnarled shapes jutting into the acrid air just beyond.

The Gate of Souls. Freedom.

That was, if they managed to make it out.

Raum coasted on the hot currents of a smoke-filled breeze, trying to concentrate on the final barrier of the mountains as he was borne ever closer to his destination. Beneath him, small fires dotted the barren desert landscape. A quick glance, and Raum could see the lurching figures of the legions of lesser demons, the nefari, who had served his kind in battle since the original Fall.

Disgusting creatures, Raum thought, jerking his gaze away from the hunched and muscular beings, red-skinned with curved horns sprouting from their foreheads, gamboling around the flames. As an earl of Hell, he had twenty legions of his own to command. But even after thousands of years in the Infernal City, Raum had never really developed much of an appreciation for the ill-tempered, dimwitted foot soldiers of the damned.

If he looked hard enough, Raum knew he’d be able to make out other, smaller figures writhing in torment on the ground around the demons plying their trade out here in the wastes. Of course, that might have indicated he had an interest in the bunch of primates, thrown together with a handful of clay and some divine spit, who kept Hell in business.

And he was going to be in close contact with those useless creatures soon enough.

If only there were another way. But there wasn’t. Raum flapped his wings once, twice, picking up speed, anxious to have the final betrayal done with. When you were a fallen angel who had been marked for death by the Infernal Council, your options became very limited. He had already walked away from Heaven, anxious to help create a paradise that had nothing to do with serving the hated humans. Even after all this time, he couldn’t understand what about humanity, so inferior in every way, had merited the reward of an eternal soul. It had been the final straw, a slight he could not ignore.

But in walking away from Heaven, he’d had another option. This time, Raum still wasn’t clear on what, or where, he was running to. Only that, if he wanted to sur vive, he must help save the humans from the rapidly encroaching darkness: a darkness he had helped create, and which now threatened to swallow him whole unless he did the unthinkable.

Curse you, Mammon, he thought. Not that such thoughts had ever done him any good.

The betrayal shouldn’t have surprised him. Mammon wasn’t the Prince of Avarice for nothing. Eternally jealous, eternally greedy, Mammon had long been tired of always being in Raum’s shadow. Raum had simply found the other demon’s constant efforts to outdo him amusing, or mildly irritating, when he’d even bothered to notice. After all, his own prowess at theft, deception and destruction had made him a legend. Mammon’s singular talent for sucking up had gotten the demon lord a seat on the ruling Infernal Council and ready access to Lucifer’s ear.

To each his own, Raum had always thought, and paid little attention. Until recently, that was, when some of his brethren, tired of Mammon’s utter uselessness and lack of leadership, had begun encouraging Raum to make a challenge. And he, Raum thought darkly, fool that he was, had begun to consider emerging from centuries of relative seclusion to do it. Then the serpent king had arrived on his doorstep just a few nights past, bearing the news that he, Raum, would soon be charged and executed as a traitor, accused of willfully undermining Hell’s cause by his obvious and egregious lack of sup port.

He would have been destroyed for nothing more than his own indifference to the games of the Council and life at Court, his own solitary nature all the evidence Lucifer needed to finally succumb to the venom Mammon had spewed for years. Raum had to give Mammon some small amount of credit: though he himself had never spoken publicly of his intention to challenge for Mammon’s position on the Council, his old rival knew a threat to his position when he saw it.

So now here he was, forced to choose between the eternal darkness of a demon’s death, or living by doing things he would once have considered even worse than such a death.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

The sky began to darken as he approached the far edge of the underworld, and Raum’s heartbeat accelerated no matter how hard he tried to force calm. Condemned or no, the finality of his decision had only just begun to penetrate.

He could sense Leviathan as he drew near the mountains, and the gate beyond. Leviathan, and the five others who would be accompanying them, now traitors below just as they had been above. Raum didn’t know all of their stories, nor did he care. All that mattered was that they were united in their refusal to die quietly. He could feel his brothers’ power drifting upward like hot sparks carried on a desert breeze, surrounding an unmistakable shard of deathly cold that cut like a knife through the heat.

Leviathan. Only a fool would have felt safe under the gaze of those unusual, oceanic eyes. Raum was no fool. He wondered if he would ever understand what had driven the serpent king to this, leading a ragtag collection of marked nobles out of Hell and into the employ of the white-winged control freaks they’d all spent so long either fighting, infuriating or avoiding. What did Leviathan care if the balance between good and evil on Earth was tipping into darkness? And even more confounding to Raum was the question of how Lucifer’s prized pet had known that the highest ranks of angels, the seraphim, would be desperate enough to want the help of a bunch of Hellish exiles in righting the Balance.

Of course, if he hadn’t been so desperate himself, he wouldn’t have touched this with a ten-foot pole, and he was in no position to be asking questions. The pay was good. The prospect of continuing to exist was even better. And dirty work was, after all, his specialty, no matter who he was doing it for. He was Raum, Destroyer of Dignities and Robber of Kings.

At least, he had been. Now, he was no longer sure what he was. But with luck, he would have more time to figure it out.

The mountains rising ahead were stunted, blackened things, the grotesque monotony of the ring they created around the kingdom broken only by the places where the five rivers sliced through on their way to the endless Stygian sea. Raum soared higher, clearing the peaks with rapid, graceful movements, and then dipped to descend into the roiling black mists that eternally blanketed the Borderlands, and the Gate of Souls.

Anticipation rushed through Raum’s blood. He was about to have a purpose again. And for the first time, it appeared that his former brethren needed him. It was incredibly satisfying … perplexing, weird and almost deviant, but satisfying.

The Infernal Council was right about one thing: he’d never given a damn for them. They’d now given him the perfect excuse to be an eternal thorn in their sides. Raum looked forward to it … and to the day when he could confront the Prince of Avarice on his own terms, when there would be no one for the insidious coward to hide behind. If that day came, that was. If he saw tomorrow.

But no matter what, it was time to find out. Raum took a deep breath of the sulfur-tinged air, and dived into the eternal night surrounding the gates of Hell.

Chapter 1

Johnstown, Vermont

Six months later

If darkness had a voice, Ember Riddick thought, his would be it.

“Excuse me, miss … I was told that if I wanted cologne, you were the woman to see?”

Her hand stilled in midair. She’d been diligently restocking essential oils—and truth be told, zoning out—and her back was to whoever had just blown in with the crisp fall air. The owner of that dark, delicious, decadent voice.

Her stomach sank as awareness prickled over her skin, responding to the new electricity in the air that she’d sensed the moment the little silver bell had rung above the door.

Had to be today, she thought. In the year since she’d come to this quaint, upscale little town in Vermont, there had been no slipups, no accidents. She’d made sure of it, even when her nerves felt worn nearly to their breaking point. Like today. Ember closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to concentrate on the soothing scents of vanilla and lavender rising from the candles she’d lit.

Didn’t work. Then she laid eyes on him.

Hell.

She would have run, if she could have moved.

“You were told right,” she heard Ginni say, her voice taking on the honeyed tones it only did when she was in the presence of someone interesting of the male per suasion. “What exactly were you looking for?”

“I’m looking for something … unusual,” the stranger replied, his deep and smoky voice sending a delicious shiver from the top of Ember’s head to the very tips of her toes. Ginni’s answering giggle, on the other hand, had her curling her lip, though she fought it. To push it back, she had no choice but to refocus on him.

The pagan god of Lust, come to finish her off completely.

Ember shivered again, and not from the chill air that had wafted in from the open door. Her eyes roamed over a man who should, by rights, be way too beautiful to exist in real life. He was dark as sin itself, with curly raven hair worn long enough for it to coil loosely around his face. His features, in profile, were sharp, almost hawkish, though they were softened just a little by a full, expressive mouth that still looked disinclined to smile. He wore only black, she noticed: jeans, boots, T-shirt, leather jacket.

A bad boy. He would have to be, Ember thought ruefully. And the severe color showcased his vampiric beauty perfectly.

Her nails began to bite into her palms, and she realized she’d clenched her fists. She also realized that those nails had suddenly become awfully sharp. Ember forced them open, alarm rising almost as quickly as the strange fire in her blood. Sure enough, there were angry red crescents where her nails had been, though even as she watched, they began to disappear.

If normal men healed as quickly, her life would have been a whole lot less lonely.

“You’re Ember Riddick, then? The owner?” the stranger asked, his gaze still fixed on Ginni, who looked pretty close to overheating herself. Though Ember kind of doubted her employee would sprout fangs and claws no matter how lust-fuzzed her brain got.

Unlike some people.

The sound of her name on his lips had her licking her own. Ember found herself stepping forward before she could think too hard about what she was doing. Then he turned to look at her, and she had no choice but to follow through with what was no doubt one of her patented Extremely Bad Ideas. She was normal, she told herself. I can do this. It echoed in her head, her mantra.

I’m normal. Normal, normal, normal …

This was her place now, and her shop, damn it. She might be weird, possibly even possessed, but she could keep her tongue in her mouth and off the floor long enough to make a sale.

“Actually, I’m Ember,” she said, trying to ignore the way Ginni still stared at him, her eyes slightly glazed. And there was nothing normal about the possessive snarl that welled in her throat, designed to drive away any fe male stupid enough to think of competing. Defiantly, she forced a smile, and hoped it didn’t just look as if she was baring her teeth.

“Welcome to Lotions and Potions. What can I help you with?”

She’d wanted his attention, and now she had it. The most unusual and beautiful pair of eyes she’d ever seen locked with hers. They were a pale green, like sea glass, a stunning contrast against his black hair. And though Ember knew it was just a trick of all the inner circuits he was busy frying, she’d swear those eyes began to glow a little, the light in them intensifying as he looked at her.

“You’re Ember Riddick?” he asked, and the thorough appraisal he gave her was anything but shy. Wicked delight surged through her, even as all of her warning bells began to go off inside. It occurred to her that she was, in all likelihood, the only woman on Earth who would be conflicted about flirting with Mr. Tall, Dark and Smoking Hot.

Usually the thick—and unnecessary—glasses and severe ponytail were enough to prevent her from getting a second look. Unobtrusive, she’d decided since her arrival here, was key. This guy, however, seemed unsettlingly oblivious to the superficial defenses she’d thrown up. He could really see her, Ember was suddenly certain. It was nice to let herself be admired again, she had to admit. As long as that was as far as it went. But the longer he stayed here, the less certain that got.

She forced herself to form words, halting though they were. She was at least pretty sure they made sense, which was good. And they weren’t “Hi, I want you,” which was even better.

“I am. And you are?” She held out her hand out of habit, and regretted it instantly when he took it, enveloping her small hand in his impossibly large one. It was a casual gesture, but Ember sucked in a breath at that first bit of contact. The smooth, silken skin of his palm was warm, almost hot, and that intangible sense of power that seemed to surround him flooded her instantly.

She would have thought it odd that he dropped her hand so quickly, as if she’d burned him, except that Ember was sure her facade of control was slipping. God knew what her eyes must look like …. Ember looked away quickly, grateful that at least the blood roaring in her ears had quieted the instant his hand left hers.

“Raum. I’m Raum,” he said in that delicious voice, like chocolate for the ears. He sounded as puzzled as she felt. It wasn’t like her to react so strongly, not this fast, anyway. He was no doubt just wondering what sort of drugs she was on. It was only the last shreds of her pride that had her lifting her chin and pressing on.

“Raum … “ She trailed off, waiting for him to offer a last name, wondering if it would be as strange as the first. When he only looked back silently, however, Ember decided to let it drop. The sooner she got through this and sent him on his way, the better. And if he really did go by only one name, then he was probably a complete weirdo, which made getting him out of here an even better idea.

“Raum, hi. We, um … we have lots of unusual things here. What were you looking for specifically? Cologne for yourself? Perfume for your … your girlfriend, maybe?” God, she hoped she’d said that last part without gagging too much on the word. Or growling. That would send things from bad to worse in a hurry.

Fortunately, her question seemed to have been the right one. At least it got him to reply.

“I’d like to buy … “ He looked around, frowning, as though not quite sure of where he was. “For myself. Cologne would be fine.”

“Raum, I doubt there’s anything on earth that would get your natural stench out. Still, it can’t hurt to try. What do you think, beautiful? Up to the task?” It was only then, at the sound of another throaty, musical voice, that Ember finally noticed he hadn’t come in alone. For the second time in minutes, she was stopped in her tracks. At least this time she managed to keep her chin off the floor.

A quick glance told her that for Ginni, not so much.

Good God, could the invasion of Mount Olympus have come at a worse time? This one was a blond, with a face that could have been carved by Michelangelo and eyes such a vibrant green, not sea glass but more like emeralds, that Ember had to assume they were contacts. And when his eyes dropped to give her an appreciative once-over, it was either look away or make an utter fool of herself.

These men, the devil and the angel both, were sex incarnate.

And she was in big, big trouble.

“I’m sure we have something that will work for you,” she said, deliberately ignoring the sarcastic blond, who had a nasty edge to his voice she didn’t much care for despite his beauty. She headed for the shelves of essences, but not before she caught Raum’s eyes again for a moment. Ember averted her gaze quickly, but it was too late. Those eyes, so intense, sent another blast of heat through her that then coiled and spiraled outward, until she was suffused with it. Ember could already feel her walk changing, becoming sinuous, suggestive, knew that the alluring scent she wore was intensifying as her body chemistry changed. Deep inside, the saner half of her moaned in despair and covered her eyes.

And the part of her that had finally slipped all the way out of its well-locked cage did exactly what it always did: prepared to get in trouble. Ember wanted to lock it down again … really, she did. But it got so hard to behave when there was so much power always fighting to get out. And she felt so good … .

“Here,” she purred, her voice going low and throaty. Ember plucked a fragrance blend from the shelves as she approached, her lips curving in an inviting smile. There was no apprehension now, no fear of what was coming. That was always the good thing about giving in. The bad things, unfortunately, always seemed to outnumber that one considerably.

Ember only stopped moving when she was inches from Raum, never looking away as she unscrewed the small black cap from the bottle.

“I think I have just the thing. Try this,” she coaxed, moving in even closer, her body almost touching his. She lifted the delicate amber bottle to just beneath the beautiful stranger’s nose. “I think this would suit you perfectly.”

He inhaled gently, and as Ember had hoped, heat flashed in his luminescent gaze. Good. That was good, to be wanted.

No, it’s bad. And I have serious impulse-control prob lems. And claws. And fangs …

“Interesting. This is a cologne?” he asked, his voice a velvety rumble. He lowered his head to her when he spoke, his large body curving around her small one until she felt they were the only two people in the room.

For the first time, rather than enjoying the knowledge of her own dominance, something in her recognized a stronger power than her own. Ember’s fascination rendered her strangely helpless.

“It’s a blend of essential oils,” she replied, tilting her head just a little as she looked up at him, startled again at just how fathomless his eyes seemed. “You could let me blend it into something for you … lotion, bath salts, that sort of thing. I could dilute it, make it more subtle. Or,” she continued, tipping the little bottle against her finger, “you could just wear it the way it is. Strong,” she breathed, hesitating only for a moment before daring to reach up and trail the finger down his throat, from Adam’s apple to the warm, intriguing hollow right at the base of it. “Elemental.”

Ember heard his sharp intake of breath, saw his pupils dilate. His lips, sculpted perfection, parted slightly as he dipped his head toward her.