My Lord's Judgment Read online

  My Lord’s Judgment

  By

  Taylor Law

  SMASHWORDS EDITION

  * * * * *

  My Lord's Judgment

  Copyright © 2012 by Michelle Taylor

  Second Edition 2013

  ISBN: 9781310209215

  Thank you for downloading this free eBook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes only, provided the book remains in its complete original form, with the exception of quotes used in reviews. This work may not be sold or manipulated without express written permission from the author. The author has asserted her rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  The original short story was first published in June 2012 as part of the Goodreads M/M Romance Group “Love is Always Write” event, and was also published in the Love is Always Write: Volume Six anthology. It has been revised and reformatted for this publication.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Warning: This book contains graphic language and sexually explicit content. Intended for adult audiences only. Not intended for anyone under the age of 18.

  Acknowledgements

  My love and thanks to Jenny, my Beta extraordinaire. You are amazing! I don’t know what I would do without you. Thank you to all of my BBs for your constructive criticism, support and love for so many years. I love you all, and if it wasn't for you I would never have had the courage to follow my dreams. Thank you to the M/M Romance group at Goodreads for publishing my story in their anthology. I will be forever grateful for the push that they gave me. Last but not least, thank you to my family and friends for standing by me, understanding when I talk about my characters like they are real, dealing with deadlines, and being so supportive. You are my heart, always and forever. Especially, Mom and Dad. I can't tell you what it means to me that you said you are proud of me. Even though you struggle with this genre, the fact that you want me to read it to you and help me perfect it, I have no words. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart!

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  About the Author

  Coming Soon

  ****

  Chapter 1

  Kneeling with his head bowed to his chest, in the most submissive position he could possibly form, Samael pleaded once more for mercy. He had tried to contact his Lord numerous times since the Judgment, but to no avail. Minutes upon hours, he prayed, hoping against hope that once again Yahweh would come to his aid.

  “Please!” he cried out, his heart breaking. “This is wrong. I didn’t do this, My Lord.”

  No answer. Not even an acknowledgement.

  God had never refused to answer him before. Between his dread of what was to come, anger at his situation, and his position, his limbs had started to tremble.

  He really wasn’t surprised. It had been coming for centuries, and the day he feared had finally arrived.

  He had known there were a great many that were jealous of his position. As the chief ruler of the Fifth Heaven, and one of the seven regents of the world, served by two million angels, he was one of the most powerful archangels ever. If that wasn’t enough, he had two other gifts that many coveted. He could speak to his Lord in His presence and survive it, and he had control over life.

  He was The Angel of Death after all.

  They’d attempted to cause his exile numerous times. Finally, they had succeeded.

  “Lord God, save me,” he whispered, feeling tears of frustration build behind his eyelids.

  He tried so hard to keep his bitterness at bay, but one thought kept forming above the rest. Gadreel and his cronies had won. Consistently harassing him was not enough. They’d wanted him gone.

  And that had been his pronounced punishment.

  Samael had been accused of many things over the millennia. Of tempting Eve in the form of a serpent, of seducing and bedding her to create Cain, but he had done neither of those things. “Gadreel” he growled.

  He’d seen through that trial, barely escaping with the skin on his back. So relieved he was, when his Lord had taken his side. God knew the hearts of His people. He knew the truth.

  Why did He not see now?

  His friend, his Father, his Creator, had abandoned him to his fate.

  Over the centuries, Gadreel had made sure to implicate him as the cause of different atrocities, but this one finally did it. Taking advantage of the gift of life and death was not something to trifle with. Even the lowest of angels knew that. Samael would never, but somehow, some way, Gadreel had made it seem like he had. Now everything he knew, everything he’d been created for, was being taken from him.

  Why was the demon spawn still in Heaven? Everyone knew the truth about him. That he was a spy for the fallen. That Gadreel, in fact, had committed most of the allegations of trouble, which Samael had dealt with. Why then, wasn’t that foul creature the one to be banished? Why was that germ allowed to continue with his treachery?

  He just didn’t know.

  His legs were numb from the hours spent kneeling in prayer, but that didn’t even register over the ache in his chest. The pain shooting through him felt like the hot blade of a sword, covered in flames. He felt betrayed by someone he loved above all others, and he couldn’t understand why.

  There was nothing he could do. No way to prove his innocence in this cell, and especially once the judgment was carried out. He was helpless, and that’s not something a warrior of his status was accustomed to.

  He did not like it one bit.

  Sam wanted to act, to fight, to do… something, on his own behalf. His honor was being trashed, his loyalty tarnished, and he could not stop it.

  He had to have faith that there was a reason. For now, that was all that he could do.

  Realizing his deliverance was not coming, he finished his prayer, the only way he knew how.

  Looking up, knowing his pain was written all over his face, he gave his oath. “My loyalty is unwavering, My Lord. I know not Your purpose in this, but I trust You have one that I cannot yet see. I will be Your servant always.” Touching his fist to his heart, he bowed his head again and then stood.

  Samael’s legs were shaky from holding the position for such a long time, so he held the wall as he walked life into his limbs again. Once he started though, he couldn’t stop. Back and forth, he strode the five steps across the tiny room. Back and forth and back again. At this rate, his nervous energy was going to tear him apart.

  Michael and Raphael would be coming in to deal with him soon enough: removing his wings, divesting him of his power and banishing him to Earth. Allowing nothing to remain. No clothes, no coin, nothing but a dagger to defend himself with.

  At least they were giving him that. Once stripped, he would be human. Not weak, by any means. He’d been a warrior for far too many millennia for that. However, he would need to live as a man, his life would be mortal, and his strength would not be what it was.

  As Samael paced, he could feel his fists clenching and releasing almost in time with his steps. “Gadreel” he growled. “I will not rest until my name and honor have been restored, and I am home again.” Then, he would make sure that demon spy was where he belonged.

  In Hell.

&nb
sp; He had no idea how long he waited, marching along in the small chamber, before he heard keys in the lock outside the door. Stopping suddenly, he turned toward the noise and stiffened. It was time.

  Michael entered the room followed by Raphael, and the looks on their faces said it all. Their eyes so filled with pity and sadness that he actually flinched.

  “Hey buddy.” Michael said, sounding so defeated that of course he had to make a joke.

  “Finally,” he whispered, grinning the best he could without making it into a grimace. “It’s about time you guys came to bust me out of here. I think I wore a hole in my shoes.”

  Raph grunted and crossed his arms, while Mike gave the most dismal half smile he had ever seen. “Yeah, don’t we wish?” Mike murmured. “I am sorry, man,” he continued, “You can’t know how hard this is for me.”

  Feeling the need to give his friend some ease, he slapped him on the shoulder. “I know, Mike. I know. I don’t blame you. Let’s just get this over with.”

  Michael nodded sharply once, then grabbed him and pulled him into a hug, smacking his shoulder hard a couple of times. Sam did the same and then pulled away, not knowing where to look.

  “Alright already, quit your blubbering, you little girls.”

  Samael turned to Raphael snorting. “Look who’s talking, Oh Pretty One.”

  “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful,” he said striking a pose.

  “Okay, Mr. Vain.” Michael put in, cuffing Raph’s ear.

  “Ow. Hey! Don’t mess with the hair.” Raph called out, smoothing his hair back, before starting to hum a song from the twentieth century about being vain.

  Samael realized he was grinning at the byplay. He didn’t know how he did it, but Raphael had broken the tension that was overwhelming him. Somehow, things were going to be okay.

  He held his hand out to Raph, who gripped his forearm tightly and nodded to him solemnly. Samael held his gaze for a moment, seeing friendship and regret, before tilting his chin in acknowledgement and turning to Michael.

  “Okay, man,” he announced to his friend. “Do your thing.”

  Michael and Raphael exchanged a meaningful look before they moved. In the blink of an eye, they had surrounded him, and then there was just white-hot light. It was so bright Samael had to close his eyes against the burn. The beams sliced him, setting his blood on fire. Agony shot through him and he felt like he would collapse, but somehow stayed standing. He cried out as the wind kicked up and he was in the middle of a tornado. It beat against him, stealing his breath, whipping his hair and ripping his clothes off his body. The fray could have lasted minutes or an eternity, he couldn’t say, until a sucking sensation pulled at him with such force that he thought he would implode. He felt as if his soul was being extracted from his body. It jerked and stretched, like a rubber band pulled past its limits, until it felt like the band finally broke. Or maybe he did, because everything went black, and then he was falling. Tumbling and plummeting into a darkness he didn’t know could exist. Faster and faster, until he came to stop with a crash and let unconsciousness take him away.

  ****

  Brandon was slammed up against the alley wall so hard his head bounced, and floaters danced across his vision. Before he could get his bearings, a fist landed a disabling blow in his abdomen, bending him in half. His breath left him in a whoosh. Almost immediately, he was face to face with the muzzle of a handgun.

  “I told you, you had a week,” Carlos spat at him. “Time was up yesterday. So where is my money, hmm?” The hot, rancid breath coming from the thug almost caused him to lose his dinner. The thrashing he was getting wasn’t helping either.

  Panting, he tried to respond, but had to swallow down bile before he could get the words out. “H..he won’t give me the m..money. I…I tried, but he just laughed in my face.”

  “That’s not my problem, now is it!? You borrowed the money for your boyfriend,” the man sneered. “Now you have to pay it back!”

  “B..but, I don’t have that kind of money!” Why the hell he’d gotten himself into this situation, he didn’t know. He knew the “how” of it though. Trust.

  Bran gave trust too damn easily. He had met a guy, but not just anyone…oh no! A damn DJ. DJ Jammin’, the hottest disc jockey in downtown L.A. Chris was his real name. The ass had picked him up after hours and they’d been inseparable for months. He never thought of the fact that, as a DJ, Chris had his pick of fans to choose from on any given night. Or that he was using that benefit as often as he could, even while they were ‘together.’ But he just had that realization smashed into his face.

  Two weeks ago, he’d gotten a collect call; Chris was in jail for drugs. Apparently, he had enough on him that they thought he was a pusher. Looking back now, it was probably true.

  Hindsight, baby. What a bitch!

  Bail was twenty thousand big ones, and DJ Fuck-face couldn’t get a Bail Bondsman to take him on. No co-signer or some such bullshit. The Dick had promised that he had the money, just couldn’t get to it. So, Brandon did as asked and contacted Master C. Now he was stuck owing big to the most ruthless gang leader around. If it was illegal, the C-gang did it, and Master C didn’t know what the word mercy meant.

  He was totally screwed!

  A fist to his face brought him back to the situation at hand. Thugs. Guns. Eating his own teeth. Right.

  Fuck!

  He spit blood from his mouth. “What do you want me to do?”

  Carlos leered at him. “Well, Master C said you have twenty-four hours.” The nasty piece of shit started undoing his pants. “But I don’t think you would mind making it worth my while to leave you still standing, now would you.” The other gang members were snickering and the one with the gun pushed down on his shoulders.

  Ewe! Awe, hell no!

  Right before his knees touched the ground, the sky lit up like the fourth of July. A light came out of nowhere, so bright it blinded him. He heard the thugs yelling, and he could have sworn the world exploded. The sound of a bomb going off split the night, and a shock wave knocked him on his ass.

  He was still alive though. The pain let him know that at least.

  Blinking, trying to focus through the white blur and dots that clouded his vision, he thought he saw Master C’s crew falling all over themselves, trying to get away.

  Fuck it. If he was going to die, he was going to see it coming. Bran squeezed his eyes shut and waited a few seconds before opening them.

  Better.

  Looking around, he saw that the dumpster at the end of the alley had one side torn off, and cardboard and papers that had been inside, now littered the ground. Not knowing what was happening, but pretty sure the apocalypse was not set for today, he got to his feet, ready to bolt.

  Before he made it three strides, he heard a loud moan and froze. Bran listened but refused to turn around. He was just about to leave when he heard it again. Shit! He fought himself for a minute, part of him wanting to run for his life and the other too curious not to check it out.

  He was an idiot, and he knew it.

  Slowly, Brandon turned around and walked toward the mangled dumpster, stepping over miscellaneous junk. When he was close enough to the edge, he followed along the side until he reached the wall that was missing, and looked in.

  Holy shit, it’s Thor!

  No wait, wasn’t that guy blonde and wearing clothes?

  Oh, and not real.

  The man in the dumpster, lying on his stomach, was naked as the day he was born. He was also, really hot. Sinewy muscle lay underneath creamy tanned skin. His butt was round and high, making a mountain in the lines of his body. His dark brown hair was cut to his shoulders and snarled, as if he didn’t own a brush. What had he been through?

  Bran shook his head and looked up at the tall buildings surrounding him. A jumper, probably. Except if he was moaning, he was still alive. As carefully as possible, he climbed into the dumpster and reached for the man’s wrist to check for a pulse. He was no doctor,
so it was not that easy to find.

  They make it look so easy in the movies!

  There. The thumpa-thumpa came through on the third try. Faint, but he might not have done it right. He was just pulling his hand away, when the world spun around him and he was on his back looking up into the darkest blue eyes he’d ever seen.

  And he had a knife at his neck. Wonderful. What a night!

  ****

  Chapter 2

  Samael awoke to find a human touching him. He no longer recognized his surroundings, and his heart was racing. Danger could be anywhere. It had begun. He was human. Now what?

  He was surprised to find that he had all of his memories intact. He’d expected their removal, and did not know whether to be pleased to remember or horrified that he would always know what was lost.

  “Whoa, whoa. Ummm… could you please put the knife away?” Samael looked into the man’s big brown eyes and saw his fear. The idea that he caused it made his heart squeeze in his chest. He had always hated that look but, as Death, he had come to expect people’s abhorrence of him.

  “Who are you?” He refused to put away his only line of defense until he determined what was going on.

  “Umm …m..my name is Brandon. I...I was in the alley when you…uh…showed up. I was just checking to see if you were okay, man. I meant no harm.” The kid’s hands were up near his head, in an open, pacifying position. He did not appear dangerous. Matter of fact, he was much smaller than Samael and could easily be overtaken if he tried anything. Besides, he looked as if someone had already given him a once over with their fists. He would be weak, his energy depleted. Removing the weapon, Sam pushed himself into a sitting position next to the human.

  “Where am I?” The man called Brandon sat up beside him, still looking like he would rather be anywhere else.

  “Ummm, we’re in an alley, off South Hill Street.” The response was somewhat muffled as the human next to him wiped what looked to be blood off his mouth.