Excerpt: Satan's Angel

Gideon landed heavily on the tree branch above his home, his hand grabbing the trunk for balance against violent winds. Thunder rolled through the late afternoon sky. As much as flying in the storms was dangerous, it was one of the few times he could stretch his wings without anyone seeing him. He’d spent the last hour darting in and out of the clouds, hoping he didn’t get struck. Lightning burned and left him agitated for days, but electricity couldn’t kill him. Because nothing could kill him.
He peered over his shoulder. The feathers on the left side of his long white wings were burned. He sniffed. A little singed. Insignificant. Nothing which would hold him back when the next storms swept over the mountains. His eyes scanned the clouds, spying a small plane. He'd have to wait until the pesky intruders left the area. He hadn’t spent the last several hundred years hiding from Satan himself to end up in some scientist’s experimental lab being dissected.
Glaring at the nuisance, lightning struck again, this time the bolt piercing the wing of the propeller driven plane. Sparks exploded outward and flames erupted all along the skin of the aircraft. He watched, dispassionately, as the craft spiraled downward into the trees, slamming to the ground.
Gideon curled his fingers into a fist, his lips curling. Soon rescue workers would invade his domain, searching through the wreckage. He’d be sentenced to months trapped inside, his wings atrophying from lack of use. He sighed. Nothing could to be done about it now. Maybe he could salvage some items from the plane before they arrived.
He hated living the life of a scavenger, but there was no way around it. His choices were to hide, be found and be experimented upon, or work for the Dark Master. Hiding was his best option.
He sighed and with the shake of his head, he dove from the branch, his wings spreading outward, catching the eddies in the air. His body raised a few meters and studied the downed craft.
There was no way anyone survived that mess. He ignored the twinge of sadness. The loss of life couldn't be helped, and the less eyes, the less chance of his secret being discovered. He floated downward, enjoying the feel of the turbulent air beneath his wings. With a tip of his body, he turned, circling the craft one last time before landing.
He folded his wings against his shoulders and stepped forward, peering into the remnants of the plane. There weren’t many bodies, which was good. He’d seen enough wasted life over the years. At least he wasn’t the cause this time.
He sorted through the debris until he came upon a young woman. She lay in her seat, her arms wrapped around a small back pack the way a young mother would try to protect her child.
Gideon crouched beside her. For some reason his hands were gentle as he pushed her soft brown hair aside to get a better look, avoiding the bloodied mat at the side of her head. Her fair skin was pale and when he touched her, she was warm. Almost as though she still lived. Her full mouth held none of the paint he’d seen on so many women over the years. Instead, they held a natural blush of color. He swept his thumb across her lips. Soft. Feminine. Such waste.
The pink of her blouse was dotted from the blood dripping from the side of her scalp. The top button of her blouse was open just enough to suggest the shadowed line of cleavage. Gideon swallowed the dry lump in his throat.
For just an instant, he felt the one thing he’d sworn he would never let himself feel. Loneliness. The feeling crept into his heart, like a serpent, wrapping around him, squeezing the air from his chest. It had been so long. Hundreds of years had passed since the last time he’d lain with a woman. What would it be like, to feel her softness press against him? Would she fear him? Or would she think him a gift from God?
He banished the thought. He was evil. This sweet morsel of a human would fear him, if she was alive. If those eyes opened and looked into his, if life still ran through her veins, she would know what he was. Not an angel. One as beautiful as she would know what he was. An agent of the Devil.
The sound of the exhalation of a sigh jerked him from his reverie. His gaze shot to her face where her lashes fluttered against the soft skin. Then she moaned.