by Holley Trent
Somehow, she was losing time because she didn’t recall being laid onto her back or him kneeling between her legs to finish unfastening his shirt buttons.
He sent the garment flying toward his coat and bent over her, pressing his hands to the bed at the sides of her face. “Angels are innocent things. Most are ignorant of carnal pleasures. They’re meant to serve without knowing much about the creatures they are bound to. They’re blind to these acts of…individualism because they’re convinced these things are not for them.”
He was too far away. She strained upward for a kiss or a nuzzling or anything, really, so she didn’t have to feel so awkward and ignorant. Her supernatural-strength patience apparently did not extend so well as to encompass him. He was already changing her, but she couldn’t make herself care. That was hard to do when every glance of his too-wise eyes, the tilt of his troublesome mouth, and his strong and perfect body made her pulse evident in places it shouldn’t have been. She wanted that thrum between her legs quieted, and since he’d most likely caused it, she was going to impress upon him to fix it.
“You’re beautiful…just like this,” he murmured, slowly lowering his body onto hers and curiously pressing an arm between their bodies. “Disheveled and angry and confused. It makes your skin flush in lovely places.” He dipped his face against the bend of her neck and inhaled deeply. “And your smell…reminds me of what landing is like.”
“Landing?”
“Mmm.” The hand between them began to move. It played into the crease of her thighs and up the seam before landing over her thrumming sex. “Landing. When humans were a young race and I hadn’t yet quit my duties, I sometimes watched from the sky. I didn’t get tired back then. I could fly and fly and never feel the threat of exhaustion creeping upon me.”
“You were glorious, I am sure,” she whispered. His whiskers tickled against her neck and made her writhe. Pinned beneath him, there was little space to move. The rational thing would have been to stop moving, but she couldn’t. She wanted more of that chafing titillation of her breasts against his hard chest that made that pulse down below thunder. She wanted more of that breath-stealing friction from his hand atop her very private place, even if it meant that for the first time ever, she’d have a witness to her undoing.
She tried to care.
Couldn’t.
Foolishly, she tipped her head back to take a deep breath, and his mouth pressed on her neck, nipping the flesh with lips and teeth. Leaving marks, probably, but it didn’t matter. Everyone in Maria thought she was a whore, and there was freedom in that designation. She may not have been able to buy that building, but her body was hers to do with as she pleased.
He worked his hand faster against her, each insistent rub making her squirm, making her body contort in move-but-stay shapes a little more. Made her hold her breath a little more eagerly, but she couldn’t keep that up. She needed air to let out the pleasure. He was working his hand as fast as her heart was beating and whispering to her. She strained to hear, and could barely make out over her ragged breathing, “Give in to it, Butterfly. Get it out of the way so I can show you what’s next. Would you like to see?”
“Yes,” she called out, both in response to his teasing question and her body’s warning that the private thing that she had only ever experienced by her own hand.
He found his way inside the slit of her drawers. A fingertip invaded, and then another, and she would greedily have taken in more, but it didn’t matter because her body was already vibrating, and he was eating every strangled sound she made.
When he pulled back a bit, her breathing was still ragged. Her hands shook as she pushed the itchy ends of her hair away from her shoulders.
Carefully, he lowered some of his weight onto her, bearing himself upright on his forearms. The heavy protrusion between his legs settled into the gap of her thighs and she found herself spreading them more apart. She was sated, but not. He’d said there was more to show her, and she wanted to see it all.
“You…still have on so many clothes,” she goaded. “Are all your secrets in your pants? Is that why you still wear them?”
His smile curved with charm, but his attention was elsewhere. His stare was a thousand yards away. “Patience, Butterfly. I will not be deterred once I begin.”
“So begin.”
There was a knock.
“Ignore it,” she said.
She had no idea how anyone had managed to get so close to the door without them hearing. She always heard every visitor, even the Cougars who tended to be more light-footed than most.
“He won’t be ignored,” he growled.
“He?”
“I’ll get rid of him.”
Another knock.
Growling, Tarik lurched to his feet and grabbed his shirt from the floor. He hastily slipped it over his wings and notched the buttons through their holes. He stalked to the door and opened it, squeezing through before she could catch a glimpse of who was on the other side.
She scrambled upright as well, not willing to be caught in such a state of undress.
Whoever was out on the landing was not only stealthy enough for her not to detect them, but wily enough to find a creature as peripatetic as Tarik. They were bound to be either incredibly dangerous at the worst or a distraction at the very least, and she didn’t want to be bothered with either.
And certainly not while in her underwear.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“What the hell are you doing here?” Tarik grabbed Gulielmus by the elbow and whisked him into Rachel’s room.
He’d come dressed for the theme, apparently, complete with two-toned cowboy boots and a starched bandana. The white hat was something of a farce. Only heroes wore white.
Gulielmus shoved his hands into the pockets of his starched denims and shrugged. “Whenever you spend so much time in one place, you’re quite easy to find, and I was curious.”
“And yet you claim not to be able to locate your own children.”
“That’s different,” the incubus murmured. “They’re only half perfect and their energy frequencies aren’t as high as yours or Tamatsu’s.” He rocked back on his heels and took in the place, nostrils flaring. “Hmm. What flavor of estrogen is that? Wolf?”
“Leave.”
“Why? What’s the hurry? I’ve just gotten here.”
The hurry was that Tarik had left a semi-clad goddess on a chaise who was receptive of a certain kind of education that he was ready and willing to give.
Snarling, he turned and discreetly adjusted the front of his trousers.
“What sort of trouble are you up to?” Gulielmus asked, moving around Tarik for a better look at him. His deep blue eyes were narrowed in suspicion.
“I’m resting for a change. That is all.”
Gulielmus scoffed and leisurely strolled to the end of the corridor to glance over the balcony railing. Returning, he said, “Tarik the Cold, Slayer of All the Things, is…” He let out a comical titter. “Resting.”
Tarik refused to be annoyed by the tinge of doubt in his friend’s tone. “We all need rest on occasion.”
Gulielmus’s eyebrow lifted in an incredulous slant. “Perhaps we do. Let’s go downstairs. Have some drinks.”
Tarik shook his head. “Not like this.” Before the blond could open his mouth to debate the issue further, Tarik added, “and I’m not changing my appearance only to swallow what passes for whiskey around here.”
“You wouldn’t have such an energy deficit if you’d chosen your employer with more discretion.”
“Freelance work suits me. I would appreciate you not dwelling on the subject any longer.”
“Fine. So, I’ll drink alone.”
“Don’t touch the merchandise. I mean it.”
Gulielmus huffed. “I see. If the whiskey is toxic and the whores are off-limits, is there anything in this dusty place you are willing to share?”
“The chocolate cake is commendable,” Lola said through a crack in t
he door between the rooms. Rachel’s room adjoined with the office on one side and Elizabeth’s on the other, but Tarik suspected that those doors were usually kept shut for obvious reasons.
Gulielmus turned to her, eyes wide with curiosity. “Is it?”
“It is the cook’s own recipe. The coffee is likely old and bitter, but it’s better than the whiskey.”
“I see. And have you any suggestions for where a man might go for company, if not here?” He cut Tarik a wicked sideward glare.
She opened the door wider and leaned into the frame.
Perhaps Gulielmus wouldn’t know the difference, but she’d pulled in the vast majority of her energy and made the output so small that the ignorant probably couldn’t tell if she were shifter, witch, psychic, goddess, or some other thing.
“You do not require company,” she told him after moments of silent consideration.
“I don’t?”
“No. Not of that sort, I don’t believe. I—” Suddenly, she pinched her words and furrowed her brow. She murmured, “Pardon me,” and disappeared, leaving behind a soft waft of spice.
Gulielmus took ground-eating strides toward the office door and pushed it in. “What in the hell—”
Lola reappeared a couple of feet away from where she’d left, clearing her throat. She knocked a couple of wrinkles out of her dress, and continued, “As I was saying, try the cake and coffee. Perhaps ask if my cook will make you one of her special beef sandwiches. She has always been weak for men with charm. Ask nicely, and I am certain she will oblige you. Once your belly is full, you can play a hand of— Pardon me.”
She disappeared again.
Gulielmus spun around to face Tarik, nostrils flaring.
“Shut up,” Tarik preempted. “Don’t say a single word about it.”
“Well, I’ll obey that darling little edict because I’m going to say a hell of a lot more than a single one.” He pointed in the general direction Lola had been standing in. “She just transported out of the room.”
“And? Many have that skill.”
“Indeed.” Gulielmus counted off on his fingers. “Many angels, former angels, higher categories of demons, and various minor gods and demigods can instantly relocate from one spot to another. Everyone else just manipulates the physics of other realms to get around quickly in this one. That’s not what she’s doing.”
“How can you tell?”
Although Tarik wanted to buy himself some time to figure out a way to permanently change the subject, he was curious about what Gulielmus knew. As far as he understood, Lola hadn’t had the ability before, either. His best guess was that she traveled more like a bird—in a straight line, albeit at a speed that would have been incomprehensible to humans. But he didn’t want Gulielmus too interested in Lola. Of course Gulielmus would know her movements weren’t typical, because he and Tamatsu were built more or less exactly the same way as Tarik and for the same purpose. They were a rare breed who could open and close portals between dimensions. They knew all about the physics.
Where did she go, anyway?
He hoped Elizabeth hadn’t had a problem on her small mission.
“Don’t take me for a fool, Tarik. What sort of creature are you playing with? Hmm? She’s enthralling, I’ll give you that. Interesting taste to her aura. Unusual.”
“Stay away from her,” Tarik barked.
With a hand pressed over his heart in false incredulity, Gulielmus took a step closer to him. Leaning in, he whispered, “So the picture becomes clearer now, yes? That explains your frustrating distractedness as of late. You’ve been leaving Tamatsu to bullishly make his way without his translator and mouthpiece. You know how clumsy he is with communicating. He could offend people with just a blink, not that he cares.”
“He’s complained?” Tamatsu was the creature Tarik least wanted to offend, whereas Gulielmus was the one he didn’t care if he was annoyed. That was the way of their trio. That was their balance and always had been. The dynamic between Gulielmus and Tamatsu was different. Gulielmus teased. Tamatsu allowed it without returning any quips of his own because Gulielmus was his amusement. Gulielmus always got on much better when all three of them were in the mix. He was a high-maintenance sort of friend.
“No,” Gulielmus drawled out. He fondled a pretty pink shawl Rachel had left hooked behind the door and brought it to his nose for a sniff. “He doesn’t complain, but I can tell he’s out of sorts with your absence. Obviously more so than you are from his.”
“Your attempts to ply me with guilt will not succeed.” Tarik stuffed his shirttails into his pants and buttoned the fly. Lola was taking too long and he needed to see why. “Go back to New York or wherever you were. Or go downstairs and have cake. We’ll discuss this later.”
“I don’t want to discuss it later.” Gulielmus’s tone was absolutely flat and expression sterile.
When he sounded like that, lesser beings moved instinctively out of his way, but Tarik knew him. He had no fear of Gulielmus’s caprices and his ephemeral moods. They might draw swords on each other on occasion, but they’d never meant to do more than send the most severe warning that they could.
“We were made together,” Gulielmus said through clenched teeth. “Worked together. Fell into different hells but rejoined in this contemptible place. You speak to me as though we aren’t cut from the same cloth. As though we’re strangers now and it would be convenient for you to cleanse yourself of our association.”
“Associations change, the same as people do.”
Gulielmus took a step away, blowing out a scoff laced with disbelief. “Oh. Well, then, I see. You’re a lover now instead of a brute, hmm? Has your sword even stopped dripping from your last kill? And when was that, anyway? A killing a day keeps the feelings away, yes?”
He was goading him. Tarik knew that and refused to be incited by the childish behavior. The extents Gulielmus went to for attention could have rivaled certain ancient Roman gods.
Tarik grimaced.
They’re probably where he got his inspiration.
“I don’t want cake,” Gulielmus said. “My appetite’s no good now and it’s all your fault.”
“Go find something to fuck. I’m sure that’ll improve your mood considerably.”
Before Gulielmus could banish himself back to New York, Tarik grabbed his lapels. “The next time you want to accuse me of something, I suggest you go about it a little more carefully, hmm?”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Absolutely.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Coming from a scheming whoreson like you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“If you want to brawl, friend, name the time and place and we’ll fight it out like we used to.”
“Where’s the fun in that? It wouldn’t be a fair fight. You’ve got a defective wing and I’m ambidextrous.” The grin that spanned his face from ear to ear was positively unsettling. Perhaps in that moment, he found the idea of helping Tarik meet his end to be a pleasant one.
But Tarik knew he wouldn’t do it. Gulielmus would get too lonely without his peers around to antagonize. Tarik didn’t wish to see Gulielmus destroyed, either. He wasn’t an easy friend to have, but he loved him in spite of that. One day, though, Tarik feared his friend would encounter a foe who wouldn’t do so much deliberation about whether or not the demon deserved to live.
Gulielmus knocked Tarik’s hands away from his collar and vanished.
Tarik paced for minute, pondering the best strategy to finding Lola out in the desert, but she returned with Elizabeth in tow before he could set out.
She bent over at the waist, breathing heavily, perspiration beading on her upper length.
Tarik hurried to her and raised her up by the arms. “Lola—”
“Stop fretting. Too many jumps too close together. I did not know I could…move like that. I had never thought to try until encountering you. Do not worry. I have been weary
before. I will recover quickly enough.” She grimaced, then looked from his hands on her shoulders and then briefly to Elizabeth and back.
Oh.
Tarik dropped his hands from her. “Was your mission with the Cougars a successful one?”
Elizabeth made a sputtering sound with her lips and pushed her glasses up. “They weren’t trying to believe me at first, but I’m used to that, I guess. Growing up, everyone back at home thought I was wasn’t right in the head. I was always letting my mind run away from me, I guess.” Her brow suddenly creased. “Why are we in Rachel’s room?”
Tarik dragged his tongue across his dry lips and shifted his weight. “Needed to have a quiet conversation with a friend. The room was open.”
“Where’d the friend go? Can we meet ’em? You keep company with some interesting folks. I wonder what Lady Sophie’s up to right now. Think she’s made it ashore?”
Tarik looked to Lola for aid in stemming the Cougar’s flow of questions, but she didn’t seem so inclined to assist him. In fact, she was disappearing through the open door between the rooms and knocking dust off her dress as she went. He frowned, thinking it was a pity she’d had to put it back on.
“Where’d the friend go?” Elizabeth repeated over her shoulder as she followed Lola.
“He had to leave,” he lied. “He went home.”
“Oh. The friend’s like you?”
“Perhaps too much like me,” Tarik murmured. The only difference between them was that Tarik defended his kills by calling them justice—that he just happened to get paid well for. Gulielmus stole lives a little bit of energy at a time and simply didn’t stay to watch the inevitable demises play out.
Tarik didn’t know if either of them were redeemable, but as he stepped into the office and watched Lola catch her breath while wearing the tiniest smile at Elizabeth’s enduring stream of questions, he pondered if there was a chance that he could gain Lola’s approval.
He couldn’t remember ever wanting anything more—not since he’d fallen.
CHAPTER TWENTY
