SOUL MATES (Angels and Demons Book 3) by Brenda L. Harper Page B
Authors: Brenda L. Harper
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couples around them, the way they moved together, and the little whispers they shared. He’d never fully understood the rituals of mating among humans. When he was a scholar of sorts in heaven, he’d read about it and watched it from a distance, but it all seemed too complicated for its purpose. Being here on Earth and participating in it himself with Rebecca, he still didn’t fully understand. But he was also beginning to learn that no one really did, not even the humans who’d been doing it for generations. But he envied the easiness that grew between couples who were truly compatible with one another.
“What’s it like for an angel, living here?”
Stiles focused on Caryn again. “What do you mean?”
“Is it strange, being on Earth instead of where you come from?”
“It’s different. It took some getting used to, at first.”
“Do you like being here?”
That was a complicated question. He hadn’t. Not at first. He didn’t like the needs his human body needed fulfilled; he didn’t like the emotions that came with having a human body. It was so much easier to experience things with a certain level of—indifference wasn’t quite right, but it was the only word that really worked—in heaven. Feeling everything, especially the physical and emotional pain that came when Joanna stabbed him and left him for dead, was the hardest thing he’d had to get used to. He still struggled with it.
“I have a purpose to fulfill and being here helps me do that.”
“A purpose?”
“A job. God gave me a job to do before he sent me here, and I’m still doing it.”
“What’s that?”
Almost as though Caryn’s question had brought her to them, Stiles spotted Dylan coming around the tables that had held the buffet for the picnic, but was now a resting place for tired dancers. She was alone, dressed in a thin-strapped summer dress that clung to her waist and flowed nicely around her legs. The moonlight reflected off her short, blond hair, making it look like she had a small halo around her head. She was so beautiful and so familiar, that something in Stiles’ soul responded when he saw her there. He was drawn to her—needed to be near her. But he found himself wondering if that was just habit, or if he what he felt was really this much talked about human emotion…love.
“Stiles?”
He looked down at Caryn, so involved in his own thoughts that he had forgotten her question. She was watching him with such naked admiration that he suddenly had a glimpse of what it was that Dylan must see when he looked at her. It was embarrassing, if he let himself admit it. Embarrassing that, for an angel who had worked so hard for so long to keep his emotions to himself, it was so obvious. He glanced at Dylan again, caught her watching him with clouds dancing over her face, and decided it was time he sought his own happiness instead of depending so much on what Dylan wanted, what Dylan might or might not chose, or on what Dylan did.
“Let’s not talk about that anymore,” he said. “Why don’t you tell me more about you? What do you do with your time? What do you plan to do with your future?”
Caryn’s smile was filled with delight. “I work in the library sometimes,” she said…and off she went, talking about things that Stiles only half heard. But that wasn’t the point. The point was to continue feeling her warm, reassuring body in his arms and, maybe, to steal a kiss later in the evening. And that, he was positive, was one desire he would surely be granted.
Chapter 9
Dylan stood alone in a dress she borrowed from Rachel and watched Stiles dance with one of the local girls. Carrie or Caryn, she thought her name was. Pretty little thing, but somehow she’d never thought she was Stiles’ type. But maybe she’d never really appreciated what Stiles type was. Or how lonely he might be.
Rachel was there, too, standing off to the side of the dance floor with Raphael. They were talking quietly, just
“What’s it like for an angel, living here?”
Stiles focused on Caryn again. “What do you mean?”
“Is it strange, being on Earth instead of where you come from?”
“It’s different. It took some getting used to, at first.”
“Do you like being here?”
That was a complicated question. He hadn’t. Not at first. He didn’t like the needs his human body needed fulfilled; he didn’t like the emotions that came with having a human body. It was so much easier to experience things with a certain level of—indifference wasn’t quite right, but it was the only word that really worked—in heaven. Feeling everything, especially the physical and emotional pain that came when Joanna stabbed him and left him for dead, was the hardest thing he’d had to get used to. He still struggled with it.
“I have a purpose to fulfill and being here helps me do that.”
“A purpose?”
“A job. God gave me a job to do before he sent me here, and I’m still doing it.”
“What’s that?”
Almost as though Caryn’s question had brought her to them, Stiles spotted Dylan coming around the tables that had held the buffet for the picnic, but was now a resting place for tired dancers. She was alone, dressed in a thin-strapped summer dress that clung to her waist and flowed nicely around her legs. The moonlight reflected off her short, blond hair, making it look like she had a small halo around her head. She was so beautiful and so familiar, that something in Stiles’ soul responded when he saw her there. He was drawn to her—needed to be near her. But he found himself wondering if that was just habit, or if he what he felt was really this much talked about human emotion…love.
“Stiles?”
He looked down at Caryn, so involved in his own thoughts that he had forgotten her question. She was watching him with such naked admiration that he suddenly had a glimpse of what it was that Dylan must see when he looked at her. It was embarrassing, if he let himself admit it. Embarrassing that, for an angel who had worked so hard for so long to keep his emotions to himself, it was so obvious. He glanced at Dylan again, caught her watching him with clouds dancing over her face, and decided it was time he sought his own happiness instead of depending so much on what Dylan wanted, what Dylan might or might not chose, or on what Dylan did.
“Let’s not talk about that anymore,” he said. “Why don’t you tell me more about you? What do you do with your time? What do you plan to do with your future?”
Caryn’s smile was filled with delight. “I work in the library sometimes,” she said…and off she went, talking about things that Stiles only half heard. But that wasn’t the point. The point was to continue feeling her warm, reassuring body in his arms and, maybe, to steal a kiss later in the evening. And that, he was positive, was one desire he would surely be granted.
Chapter 9
Dylan stood alone in a dress she borrowed from Rachel and watched Stiles dance with one of the local girls. Carrie or Caryn, she thought her name was. Pretty little thing, but somehow she’d never thought she was Stiles’ type. But maybe she’d never really appreciated what Stiles type was. Or how lonely he might be.
Rachel was there, too, standing off to the side of the dance floor with Raphael. They were talking quietly, just
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