Summon Lyght(12)
He supposed that was rather right on track for an angel. Nothing new. Except he didn't recall such a thing feeling so…good before. Those duties were always automatic, just something he did, with no real emotion attached. Satisfying, yes, and sometimes exhilarating, never boring, but the current cell-level pleasure was entirely new. Perhaps Earth's atmosphere or the close human proximity might explain such a breed of emotion. Or could it be his need as a male to ensure the well-being of his female? Was it too early to feel those things?
Hadn't Toren experienced similar effects with his female? Only more suffering than enjoyment, from what Lyght had gathered. He didn't understand that part. Perhaps Toren's mercurial properties connected in a negative context with his environment and changed his perception. Lyght certainly wasn't experiencing anything unpleasant, to be sure. Thank Father for that.
"This is it, and it isn't much."
Lyght turned his attention to the female human. Miya. He'd need to get with her guardian at first chance to learn all he could. As well as Lesedi's. Lyght was a rather large fan of irony and grinned at the fact that his female's name meant temple and his male's meant light. Damn bloody perfect.
****
Lesedi found it difficult to be concerned with anything but Miya. Unaccountably, she had grown far too important to him in far too short a time. Yes, the strange man at the diner who introduced himself as an angel of light or something similarly preposterous should warrant his immediate attention, given that people who proclaimed supernatural status possessed an alarming tendency toward insanity, but for the life of him he could not bring himself to fret over the stranger. Each time he tried, silly feelings assaulted him, like he was attempting to fear his sweet grandmother.
The man may have been odd but he reeked of harmlessness. As his life demanded, Lesedi had honed his instincts long enough to feel confident about their accuracy. Which left him to ponder a very tormenting issue. The need to feel Miya's lips again. They were small under his, supple silk with a faint trace of her mint. Warm and generous. Like the rest of her.
She made it abundantly clear to him that she wanted to show her gratitude for his intervention in what promised to become a very ugly situation. And how she wanted to show it. Scruples aside, who was he to deny her? Of course he would make sure she was the one that went away properly paid. The things he hadn't dreamt of doing to her. To see her in the throes of passion would be payment enough, his own satisfaction be damned.
His behavior at that point in time was borderline foolish, given the entire situation. He should be getting the hell out of the miserable little town. And he would. As soon as he ensured Miya was settled into her home and made sure she was safe from that baboon's ass of a man who accosted her at the diner, then he would go. After he had her. The stranger could take it from there and keep her safe.
Lesedi pulled up at her home, cursing the habit that insisted he back the car in ready for a quick departure and scoped the area, noting it appeared to be the edge of town. His gaze honed in on Miya's hips as she ascended the steps of her humble cottage, feeling like his gallant intentions were tethered by testosterone. The sexy sway of her hips had him immediately hard and he was grateful for the cover of dark jeans and a night sky as he hurried to join the group huddled at her door.
That was what he got for attempting to play a holy man for his family. He should be at home, taking care of a wife of his own, rather than in a strange place lusting after a woman he would probably never see again.
Lesedi followed the others in, ducking to clear the pre-standardized-construction doorway. The scent of mint and eucalyptus filled his nostrils along with the faint smell of bacon. He drew in a deep breath, his body seeming to devour the welcoming combination. Wooden walls the color of honey gave off warmth in the sparsely furnished, and delicately sized home. The living room held a tweed sofa and a rocking chair that may have been hewn straight from a tree for all its bulky crookedness. He eyed a Bible atop a literal tree stump next to the rocking chair, and judging by its lumpy thickness, he was pretty sure it wasn't just for appearances.
Straight ahead a shoe box sized kitchen adjoined the tiny sitting area. It reminded him of the doll house he'd once seen in an American magazine one Christmas in his childhood. The dainty kitchen chairs that looked to be made of white worn tooth pics would certainly break under his mass. Lesedi found himself oddly impressed with the décor. It seemed to be plucked straight from nature. From the flowers in softly colored earthenware crocks on every flat surface, to the clusters of blossoms and greenery hanging on the walls in one artistically twisted fashion or another. Something inside him tugged, a familiar longing of…memories, maybe from long ago. Perhaps when things were simple, and money and power did not yet exist in his mind and world.