Pathscrossing A Harem Romance 1 03

They reached his apartment in Kenwood without issue. The stares from his superintendent notwithstanding, his night was only getting better and better. Sagra watched with fascination as he trimmed and prepared the meat like an expert. Soon, the smell of pork and tomato sauce filled his two bedroom apartment, and it was time to let the sauce simmer.

"So, care to take a tour?" Jack offered, making a grandiose gesture with his hands towards the hallway.

"A girl wonders what dark secrets a single man keeps in his second bedroom..."

He laughed. "I actually sleep in the second bedroom. The master bedroom is used for something much more important." He saw her expression then stammered, "it's nothing sinister!" Grasping her hand, he breezed her through the house tour until they reached the big bedroom.

Jack hesitated. "Don't make fun of me."

"Why would I make fun of you?" She grinned.

He puffed up his cheeks and let out a breath, then opened the door. Various plants lined the walls from floor to ceiling, even more pots creating a maze along the floor. Grow lights hung in sporadic patterns, and there was more than one open bag of potting soil.

"Oh. Oh my..." Sagra ducked into the room and had to bob and weave to avoid any hanging plants with her head. Jack followed her in, his head easily clearing the bottom of the planters. After a moment of awe, she spoke.

"They're beautiful, Jack."

Jack spent several minutes introducing Sagra to his love of plants, spending a few moments to speak about each one. He cared for plants that were babies, and plants that were generations old. He had plants that were edible, and plants that were wildly poisonous. Sagra could sense the enthusiasm in his voice as he spoke about his hobby. She had a fleeting thought that one day he might speak this passionately about her.

Sagra lauded his skills over dinner, despite Jack's assurances that the dish was simple and didn't require much effort. He could tell she was slowing herself down as she ate, and when she finished her plate, he filled it again without speaking. She flushed, but said nothing as she quickly finished the second plate, and they washed the food down with a bottle of inexpensive wine. Still, the night felt young, so Jack invited Sagra to stay and watch a movie.

He let her choose, and she surprised him with her decisiveness as she picked an action movie starring one of the top billed Teuthidan actresses. Her ample chest and endearing accent certainly didn't hurt her popularity, but it was her six thick tentacles that she moved around on that really made people curious.

Their movie watching started innocent enough. They sat next to each other on the couch, which groaned under Sagra's density. Throughout the first act, they slowly moved closer together, interlacing their fingers and brushing their thumbs along one another. Soon, he had his hand on her muscular thigh and was rubbing her leg through her leggings. It was around the middle of the movie when they truly got comfortable; Sagra stretched out on the couch with her head in his lap. Her torso was cutting off circulation to his legs, but it was absolutely worth it.

...

He ran his hand through her hair while the squid-like Teuthidan antihero spouted exposition during her big moment in the movie, over-acting and flailing her arms and tentacles around. Sagra gently grabbed his hand, and for a moment, Jack thought she was stopping him. She turned her head to place a soft kiss on his fingers, sending goosebumps up his arm with her silent invitation. He lowered her head to the sofa then bent down over her, placing a hand on either side of her face. Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at him, her wavy hair framing her face, and her lips parted with heavy breaths. A beautiful hand reached up to caress his face, a thumb running over his lips. Jack bent low, but at the last moment turned his face to place a kiss on her temple. Giggling, she turned further to give him access to her neck. Planting tiny kisses along her jaw, he made his way down her throat towards her collarbone. She moaned, but when she tried to turn to meet his lips, he grabbed her chin and kept her head tilted to the side. He kissed along her cheek then placed a few at the corner of her mouth, their lips grazing just barely

With her strong hands she grabbed his hips, squeezing them with the pent up energy from her needy gyrations. By the time their lips met, Sagra was panting, and Jack smiled as they kissed with gentle passion. Her lips were even better than they were in his fantasies; pillowy and sweet, and soft as a marshmallow. He caressed the side of her face, running a thumb over her freckles, attempting to convey just how much this moment meant to him.

One of her hands wrapped behind his waist, the other finding the back of his neck as she pulled him closer. As they kissed, Jack let his hand wander up her side, from her toned stomach to the crease where her heavy chest met her abdomen. The bra she wore was just a bit too small, so her thick breasts spilled slightly out the bottom of the underwire; he ran his hand along the flesh.

"This seems uncomfortable..." he breathed, fingering the straps along her side.

"Very uncomfortable," she agreed, and she lifted her torso from the couch to allow him access to her back. His arms only just fit around her midsection, but it was enough to undo the tight clasp of her bra. She tore the loose garment out from under her cotton tee, her boobs jiggling under the fabric on their way to freedom. Sliding his hand upward, he kneaded her massive breast through the shirt, marveling at their gravity-defying softness.

Sagra's hands dipped, pushing on his lower back to create more electric friction between them. Her back arched and her torso rose, rising to meet his to maximize contact.

The Nephilim made adorable, quiet mewling noises whenever a finger brushed her nipple. His cock slid up her leg as it hardened and pointed north, and Jack was now positive that she was aware of its presence. She chuckled into his mouth knowingly, pleased to have elicited such a reaction from him, and began to swivel her hips to an unheard rhythm.

A familiar yawning formed in his gut and travelled to his groin; a glorious and powerful hunger that he planned to sate. Slowly, he began working her shirt off by running his hands up her abs while they kissed.

They both froze when the doorknob rattled. Over the low volume of the movie, they heard a woman's voice.

"It's locked! Merde. Who the fuck locks...this used to be a nice neighborhood..."

"Is that a girl?" Sagra asked, a suggestion of betrayal in her voice. The rattling stopped for just a moment before the door exploded inwards. Jack fell off of Sagra in shock, falling to the floor as she swiveled to a sitting position. As the last of the wooden splinters clacked to the floor, a woman with lavender skin and thick, raven hair sauntered in. The first things Jack noticed were the horns. They curled out from her forehead towards the back of her head, and the tips were capped with gold. She was wearing black rawhide armor that still managed to show thick, soft thighs, and her hide boots had a steep heel. The stranger spun to face them, her heels kicking aside the detritus from the door. Her hands went to her hips, and massive, leathery wings bristled behind her, furled to her back. She stared at him on the floor, a look of annoyance on her face.

"Are you Jackson?" she demanded, smiling to reveal sharp incisors. Her voice dripped with a thick French accent.

"Jack...?" Sagra asked, her great muscles tensing.

"I..." Before Jack could finish his sentence, the horned woman unfurled her wings and launched herself at him, knocking pictures off the wall. Sagra sprang to his defense, shoving the woman off course before impact. The purple devil crashed through the television, and their movie went completely silent. Sagra rose from the floor to her full height as the woman extracted herself from the ruined entertainment center.

"Chienne..." the woman said. "Mind your own business!"

"Who are you?" demanded Jack, finally getting to his feet.

"Doesn't matter!" The woman laughed and lunged at Jack once more, only to be grabbed by the horns by Sagra and wrestled to the ground.

"Leave him alone!" Sagra shouted. The woman struggled beneath her, not quite the Nephilim's match in strength.

"Oh, you're a big girl, aren't you?" The demon smiled, then puckered her lips. She made a kissing noise, then blew in Sagra's face. A black, glittering cloud enveloped the larger woman's head, and she passed out on top of the intruder.

The demon wheezed dramatically under the weight. "I didn't think this one through. Jacq, a little help?" She reached for him from underneath Sagra, and Jack recoiled.

"What did you do to her?" he shouted, the lights flickering in his apartment and the broken television shooting sparks. The woman used her wings as a macabre set of limbs, lifting her and Sagra from the ground. The digits between the leathery membrane skittered, struggling to find purchase on the wooden floor. After several moments, the demon held Sagra by the hair, withdrawing a wicked looking dagger from a sheath on the back of her armor.

"What do you say, Jacq," she brandished the weapon and set it under Sagra's jaw. "She'll just get in our way, non?"

[This is going to hurt, Jackson]

A great heat welled up in his body, spreading through his veins like glowing fire. His eyes lit up golden, casting a shadow of the scene in front of him on the far wall. A pressure began to build in his mouth, a pressure that needed to be released.

"STOP," he commanded. He practically threw the words, and they washed over the women in his living room. The demon's eyes went completely white, her jaw and arms going slack. The fallen dagger skittered across the floor, leaving scratches that were sure to lose him his security deposit. Sagra hit the floor with an immense thud, likely showering dust on his neighbors below. After a moment, the bright blue color returned to the demon's eyes, and she shook herself, as if out of a daze.

A wicked smile split the woman's face. "Well, I'll be damned once again." She leveled her sharp, manicured nails at him, red lightning crackling between her digits. "It's a shame it has to be this way. You would have been fun to play with."

Lightning shot from her fingers, and Jackson felt an unseen force lift his arm with his palm out. A great pulse of golden light escaped from his hand, destroying the lightning mid-flight and launching the demonic woman straight through the exterior wall, right into the street from the third story. He barely had time to fall to his knees before he slumped over Sagra, every cell in his body screaming in agony. He clung to her shirt as the pain rolled through him, then the world dimmed and fell silent.

...

When he came to, his eyes were assaulted by harsh fluorescents, and he could hear the various beepings and hummings of machines.

"Jack?" came Sagra's voice, and he felt a strong hand on his chest. He grasped her fingers with his own.

Without opening his eyes, he let out a deep breath and tightened his grip. "Sagra, you're safe..."

"I am, Jack..." her voice hitched. "Everything is okay. Your mom and dad are here, they just stepped out to get coffee."

"I'm sorry..." he said.

"Shush," she said, "none of that. We'll speak when you're ready."

He tried to sit up, but his brain screamed like it was thrown on a hot iron, so he settled for cracking his eyes open.

"Have you heard of the goddess Astarte?" he whispered, but was stopped from further conversation by the entry of his parents to the room.

"Jackson!" said Catherine. "Jackson you're finally up!" She said this with a casual tone, as if he had simply slept in.

"Nearly gave your mother a heart attack," said his father.

"Nearly gave me a heart attack!" she echoed.

"Hey ma, pops."

His mother put a hand on Sagra's shoulder. "This is the second time in as many days that this angel has been there to save your ass! Do you have something to say to her!"

Sagra blanched, and Jack sighed. Being a parent never really ends, it seems.

"Thank you, Sagra. I'm glad you were there, truly." He squeezed her hand in an attempt to convey his gratitude.

His mother took a deep, shuddering breath. "We are glad you are okay, son."

"Indeed," said a new voice, and a well-groomed man with a dark beard in a charcoal suit entered the hospital room. His voice also held a thick French accent.

"Where is my doctor," Jack said, exhausted and exasperated with these strangers barging into his life.

"Dr. Tanenbaum knows better than to interfere with divine business," the man said

Jack rolled his eyes. This man was an angel. Angels were one of the Sovereign species; the ones with a one hundred percent transference rate. During the Grand Convergence, every human that battled a sovereign species for dominance of the body lost, with the entirety of the species brought to this world. And just like the other Sovereigns, they had a stick of self-righteousness stuck up their ass. There was no real evidence that these people were actually divine.

"Who are you? Jack who is this?" asked his mother.

"Apologies, madam." The man gave his mother a deep bow. "I am Serain, and this is Faylinn." He gestured behind him. A woman had snuck into the room behind Serain, and Jack recognized her instantly as the goth woman from the deli. She eyed Jack up and down, an emotion flashing through her eyes. Was that pity, or disdain?

"Might I have a moment alone with young Jackson, here?" asked the man.

Sagra stood to her full, impressive height, just a hair under seven feet. "You may not," she growled. Jack could tell she was concerned for his safety by the inordinate amount of near-death experiences he'd had with her in the last two days.

Seraphin faltered. "Ah...Jackson? I assure you we mean you no harm."

"She stays," Jack shrugged. His head was throbbing, and the fluorescent lights in the room were not helping. "My parents, too. I'm assuming this is about Eldarion?"

The man looked surprised. "You already know of Eldarion? Has she spoken to you?"

He shrugged again, noncommittally. "I heard about it on the news," he lied. He didn't know or trust any of these people. His mother and father looked between the two, baffled and lost.

Jack so no reason to sugar coat anything; his parents were tough. "These people seem to think I am a candidate for Eldarion's reincarnation."

"The angel?" his father asked. His parents were silent for several moments.

His mother looked troubled, shaking her head. "If Eldarion died, wouldn't she reincarnate into a baby?"

"That would leave the world unbalanced for nearly twenty years," the goth woman, Faylinn, said. "Angels only inhabit vessels who are ready and worthy, unlike demons, who possess their hosts and lock them inside their own mind."

The bearded man winced, then nodded. "It is a rare thing for an angel to die. You have been presented with a unique opportunity, Jackson. Should Eldarion choose you to succeed her, you could be a major influence in the church and the world." The man took a deep breath, hesitating. "But you will need some help. Becoming an angel means making enemies, from both demons and other angels. There is a world of politics you do not yet understand."

"Uh huh," he said. "You'd offer to help me? And you'd do this out of the goodness of your heart, huh?" he winced, a spike of pain driving through his head.

Faylinn sighed, rolling her eyes, and approached him with a glowing palm outstretched. Faster than he could even register, Sagra's hand grabbed her wrist. Faylinn yelped, but quickly regained her composure.

"I'm just going to fix his headache, asshole." Sagra let her go and Faylinn soothed her wrist. She'd gotten her message across without speaking; I was not to be harmed.

"You don't really sound like an angel," Jack pointed out. Faylinn scowled at him, then touched his head. Awash in a golden light, his headache disappeared. She slunk back to lean against the doorframe.

"Listen, Jackson. The other candidates for Eldarion are...less than ideal. Of the candidates predicted by the Fates, you are the purest of soul. We're putting our money on you."

"We?"

"Some of the angels, myself included."

"That's great, and all, but what if Eldarion doesn't choose me?"

The man smiled a bit too wide. "Well, that part is simple." He snapped his fingers.

The bed disappeared beneath Jack as he was instantly transported under an open sky. He fell for a few feet before hitting a rough surface that left small pebbles in his palms. After a few moments staring into space, he realized he was on the roof of the hospital they'd just been in. Already, he could hear the panicked shouts of his loved ones drifting out of an open window below.

"We're just going to have to move up her timetable a little bit," Serain said as he helped Jack to his feet. Jack gaped at the four gigantic wings made of light that sprouted from the angel's back. He had at least a twenty foot wingspan, and one pair sat atop the other.

He walked to the edge of the roof, looking across the Chicago skyline.

"It really is a beautiful city, despite its flaws," he said. Jack approached him, joining the skyline.

"I won't lie to you, Jackson," the man said after a minute of silence, sounding tired. "Should Eldarion choose you, your life will be fraught with danger. Not only are the demons constantly at our throats, but many other species are attracted to power. Some want to kill us; some want to control us. Some worship us as paragons of goodness--of biblical, ultimate might, while others revile us for being false idols." For a while, he said nothing, content to watch the red skies darken.

"There's no proof that we are the angels of biblical legend. The first angels to come over from the Pathscrossing claimed celestial lineage, but never have I felt a divine purpose; never have I been tapped by the metaphysical. All I have in me is the desire for knowledge, for experiences. I'm supposedly the angel of wisdom, and it has been my role to pass on knowledge to the next generation of angels. My gift, or curse, is my memory. I remember not only everything that happens in my life, but in all my incarnations prior. I remember coming through to this plane during the Pathscrossing, confused and frightened." Serain turned his head to look at him. "Not unlike how I imagine you feel right now. I know you are terrified. I would be worried if you weren't. I have no doubt that Eldarion has spoken to you. If that is the case, then she has likely made her choice. If we are to get you to a place where you can defend yourself, she is going to have to give more of herself to you, and fast." Serain put a firm hand on his shoulder, and the door to the roof burst open, Faylinn looking around wildly. She was followed quickly by both Sagra and his parents. The angel next to him held in a breath.

"Your move, Eldarion."

He shoved Jack off the roof of the eight story building.

The ground hurtled towards him faster than he could even process what was happening, so sudden was the betrayal.

[That dickhead! Fine.]

About ten feet before he became a smear on the ground, gigantic, feathery wings burst from between his shoulder blades and let out a mighty pump, dramatically slowing his descent. Unfortunately, this didn't prevent him from landing face first into the grassy courtyard. Five feet further and he'd have smashed into the sidewalk.

...

"Stay back, Amandine!" Her brother was in angel mode. The demon had been bolder this time, attacking them in their own manor. The last few times they had fought, Liriel, the so-called demon of chaos had been soundly thrashed by her brother, Jean, or Serain as the angels called him. It would seem that the coward thought that the Angel of Wisdom may be more inclined to hold back in his own home, with his mortal family around.