Love is a Merciless God - An 8th Dimension Novel

Chapter One - The Joys of Being Heard

If the Guild ever found out I'm in love with my human charge, it would be the end of me. They'd try me for treason and send me to Purgatory so I could become a wraith, and that would be the end of things.

Yet, no matter how hard I try—no matter how much these truths are ingrained—I can't help it.

Sitting upon the upper portion of Liam's sofa, I lean forward, pulling my long hair into a twisted ponytail, as I watch the argument unfold between him and his latest fling. I know full well it will end in one of two ways, as it always does—he'll either give in or he'll have his heart broken all over again. Meanwhile, I will continue to wish the same thing I always do in these circumstances—I wish it were me. Even if we were fighting—it would mean I was an ordinary woman. Someone he could hold, touch, kiss...

But I'm not—and no amount of wishful thinking is ever going to change that.

As his Guardian Angel, I'm bound by certain Laws. I experience his internal anguish and his desire to pull this all back together, despite his insides recoiling. All he wants in this whole world is to make up. To feel whole again—followed closely by sweaty bursts of exertion as their naked bodies interlock.

Bringing my hands into prayer position, I tap the bottom of my chin and wait. Free will is a messy, beautiful, irritating thing. And I do have my rules, after all. No messing in the affairs of humans unless directly asked—or if their direction is leading them against their prime directive. Doesn't mean I can't watch and wish I could poke Rachel in the eye or make fat inexplicably grow on her hips overnight. But hey—what can I say? He deserves better—he deserves a love as pure as he is.

Instead, his insecurity clouds his judgment. The wounds of abandonment cut too deep. For as long as his soul has been incarnate in this body, I have been his Guardian. We've gone through many phases together and for whatever reason, I have a stronger connection to him than any other charge in my care all these years.

Perhaps it stems from when he was a young boy. Up until puberty, he and I would converse. While he couldn't see me—and I couldn't touch him—he could hear me. We spent many years talking about all the things you can imagine. But, almost like a child who's outgrown the tooth-fairy, one day, he could no longer hear me.

It was a heartbreaking day for me—but it hasn't changed the way I feel about him.

I've seen his trials and tribulations—his awkward moments and his strength as he's grown into a man full of potent masculinity, sexual power, and inescapable intellectual prowess.

Yet, time after time, he continues to fall into the same trap. He repeats this pattern as he tries to resolve his feelings for the mother who left him alone in this world. The little boy inside has yet to heal, and until he faces this fact—he will continue to self-destruct in his relationships. It is his fate—his prime directive.

"Get out—" Rachel says, pointing toward the door. Her brown eyes flash with near murderous intent.

I sit up straighter, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Now we're getting somewhere...

Liam's dark eyebrows tug inward, covering his intense hazel eyes until they're nothing more than tiny green crescents. He's flooded with anxiety and anger as it wells up—and yet, his desire to not be alone is winning the battle under the surface.

I lift my right hand, blowing an air of confidence his direction. It's just a little nudge. Nothing that will trigger the alarms or anything.

"You get out. This is my house, remember?" he says, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door frame.