by Larissa Ione
“And now you do?”
“Maybe,” he breathed. “I think the bond is what’s helping me get my memories back.”
“Well, good for you. Glad I could help.”
He ignored her sarcasm. “I am, too.”
She drank in the sight of him as he stood there, his chest heaving as though they’d sparred with their fists instead of with words. And now, she realized, in all the memories she had of Yenrieth, he was no longer faceless. The angel who laughed with her, played tricks on her, and had brought her to the most amazing orgasms was the male standing in front of her.
“So what now?”
He propped one boot casually behind him on the wall. Because yeah, this was all just so run-of-the-mill. “Now we wait for this Boregate to take us somewhere.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”
“Do you really think now’s the time to discuss our future? We don’t know if we’re going to survive the rest of the day let alone the next century.”
He was right, but his dismissal still stung. For thousands of years she’d wondered what she would do if Yenrieth reappeared, the scenarios ranging from a cheesy joyful reunion in which they’d run at each other and she’d leap into his arms to her killing him in a fit of rage.
Most of her imaginary reunions involved him falling to his knees and begging forgiveness while she listened patiently until she’d had enough. Then they had wild, intense sex and he swore to never let her go again.
What a joke. Of all the fantasies she’d come up with, none of them had involved them being on the run from Satan and darkmen.
“Let me ask you something.” She squared her shoulders, wincing at the sudden, intense itching in her back as her wings regenerated. A good sign, but annoying. “After you found out I knew about your children, when you seduced me, did you want to have sex with me, even a little? Or was it all for revenge?”
His gaze hit the floor, but not before she caught a glimpse of shame. “I don’t remember.”
“My ass,” she spat out. “You must have some idea. Some feeling.”
“The feeling I get from that day is anger. So if I had to guess, I’d say it was all for revenge.” His eyes snapped up to hers, as brutally cold as his words, and her chest constricted around what was left of her shriveled heart. “Was that what you wanted to hear? Or should I have lied?”
She’d have been fine with a lie, and how fucked up was that? Son of a bitch, he could throw her off balance, and if there was anything Harvester hated more than being tortured, it was being unsure of herself and her emotions.
“Fuck you, Reaver.” Irrational anger gripped her in sharp talons as she spun away from him, needing as much distance as she could get in the damned shoebox they were trapped inside.
His exasperated voice followed her. “You asked.”
She braced her forehead against the opposite wall, letting the cool stone soothe her. But it didn’t do much to alleviate the anguish building inside her.
Shuffling noises filled the room and she tensed as she felt him come closer. “In case we don’t make it out of Sheoul, I need you to know I’m thankful for what you did for my sons and daughter. I can’t thank you enough.” He swallowed audibly, an almost pained sound. “I owe you more than I can ever repay.”
“That’s a dangerous thing to say to a fallen angel, you know.”
“Maybe. Depends on the fallen angel.”
She laughed bitterly. “If you’re counting on me to wipe the slate clean and tell you to go on your merry way, you’re sadly mistaken. I’m not Verrine anymore. I’ve had to do things to survive that would make your feathers molt.”
“You think I don’t get that?” He made a sound of frustration. “I’m not Yenrieth anymore, either. But we’re both paying for things we did when we were those people. Maybe it’s time to stop.”
Closing her eyes, she took a deep, rattling breath. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. He’d hurt her so badly that she wasn’t ready to let go of the pain. And maybe it wasn’t as much that he’d hurt her as it was that she was an evil bitch who was more about revenge than forgiveness.
No, she definitely wasn’t Verrine anymore.
“You want to stop paying for what we did as Verrine and Yenrieth? What about what we’ve done as Harvester and Reaver?” Pushing away from the wall, she swung around to him. “I smashed you under a mountain. I tricked you and tortured you. Can you really get past that?”
His eyes raked her from head to toe, as if he was trying to see the angel he’d once known. “I already have. But what about you? You said everything you felt for me, as Reaver, makes sense. I know you hate me, but what else?”
“What else?” Her first instinct was to tell him to fuck off. But they both needed a little honesty and a lot of answers now. “Lust,” she said boldly. “I despised you, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to screw your brains out every time I saw you.”
Heat flared in his eyes, and she smiled inwardly. “That’s why you made that deal with me in Sheoul-gra.”
“Well, I couldn’t very well admit I wanted to fuck you, could I? You’d have laughed in my face.”
“Yes,” he admitted. “I would have.”
Even though she’d known what he was going to say, it still felt like he’d kicked her in the gut.
“Release me from the deal, Harvester.”
Her heart kicked against her ribs. “What? Never.”
“Why not?”
Because now it was more important than ever. It was the only hold she had over him. The only weapon she had against the only person in the world who could still crush her heart.
“Because I said so,” she snapped.
Reaver looked down at the ground, his golden mane falling forward to hide his expression. It took forever before he finally looked up, and when he did, his eyes held a predatory gleam that took her breath away.
“Do it.” He moved toward her, his broad shoulders rolling like a lion on the prowl. “I betrayed your trust once. Now I’m asking you to give me another chance.”
Harvester’s pulse pounded in an erratic rhythm as he drew closer. The air between them grew thick with a sultry, erotic heat she felt on her skin like a sunburn. This was how it had been the day he seduced her. He’d been so sure of himself, so confident that she’d give in. And she had.
Then he’d crushed her.
“Why should I?” Her voice was humiliatingly hoarse.
“Because you don’t need anything to hold over my head.” He stopped a foot away, an unyielding wall of muscle that blocked her view of everything but him. His voice lowered to a sensual drawl. “You don’t need a verbal contract between us.”
Was he saying what she thought he was saying? That he’d have sex with her even if she didn’t force him to? Or was this a repeat of that wonderful and horrible day so long ago? What if he was tricking her to get out of the deal?
“Harvester,” he said, but in her head she heard an echo of “Verrine.” “Release me. Trust me.”
She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. It would be too easy for him to hurt her again.
But she wanted to be good. How could she do that if she was clinging to a bargain she’d intended to use selfishly? Maybe doing as he asked would be a first step toward making amends for five thousand years’ worth of evil deeds.
Her pulse pounded in her ears as she considered his request and her possible response, all weighed alongside her desire to shed some of the darkness that had become as much a part of her as her skin.
She could do this. But if Reaver made her regret it, she’d gut him with her teeth.
“I… release you.” She waited for him to gloat or laugh or something, but he just stood there, his half-lidded eyes smoldering. “Ah… now what?”
“You tell me.” He licked his full lips, leaving them glistening in the diffused gray light of the Boregate. “Do you want to test me? See if releasing me from the deal was a smart thing to do?”
Was this a trick? She narrowed her eyes at him. If it was, he was playing it very, very cool.
She could do cool even better.
“Sure,” she said, kicking off her boots. “Let’s see if I made a mistake.” Bending, she peeled off her leggings, which left her only in the ridiculous pink panties and her skimpy black tank top. “Are you going to fuck me even without the deal?” She hooked her thumb in her panties’ elastic waistband and waited.
And waited.
Finally, Reaver shook his head, and a cold ache drilled a cavern in her chest. “No, I’m not.”
Still reeling with shock that Harvester had actually taken a huge step toward trusting him by letting him out of the sex deal, Reaver gave Harvester a moment to let what he’d said sink in. It killed him to let her think he’d gone back on his word, but he wanted her to be very clear on what he was about to say next.
As hurt gave way to fury that built like steam in that slim, athletic body, he closed the distance between them and put his mouth to her ear. He shivered at the sensation of her delicate, smooth skin against his lips.
“I won’t fuck you,” he whispered. “But I’ll make love to you. I’ll do what I should have done all those years ago.”
For some reason, she cried out and shoved him away. “I don’t want that,” she shouted. “I can’t. I need… I need…”
Shit. Meltdown time. He’d pushed too fast and scared her. Not that she’d ever admit to being afraid of anything, let alone her emotions.
“What do you need?” he said quietly. “I’ll give it to you.” He had a feeling she needed control, especially now, in the midst of chaos, life altering revelations, and an uncertain future.
For an unbearably long time, she didn’t say anything. Finally, she blurted out, “I need you to take off your shirt.”
Good girl. It didn’t matter what request she’d made of him, he’d have done it. He was just happy she hadn’t demanded that he hop on one foot while singing a show tune or some shit.
“Done.” As he lifted his shirt over his head, the cinnamon-clove scent of Harvester’s arousal filled the room.
Raw hunger gleamed in her eyes, replacing the pain and distrust as he tossed the torn garment to the ground. “Good.”
She caught her tongue between her teeth as she studied him, and damn, he could so easily picture her in the throes of orgasm, her head back, mouth open, silky ebony hair spilling over her shoulders and breasts. She’d be radiant, beautiful, and she could bring a male to his knees.
That thought, of course, put an image in his head of him on his knees in front of her as he kissed her belly on a blazing path to that sweet place between her legs. He’d lick her until she screamed his name, and then he’d do it over and over, swirling his tongue inside her satin channel as he listened to her sexy little mewls of pleasure.
You’ve already done that.
Yes, he had. He suddenly remembered doing it to Verrine. He’d been all about revenge, but his plans had gone awry the moment he’d gotten her naked.
His rigid erection strained against his fly, aching like a son of a bitch. How long had it been for him? Too long. Way too long. He hadn’t been with a female since he got his wings back, was given Watcher duty, and… met Harvester. Oh, he’d had plenty of opportunities with angels who saw him as a forbidden temptation, a rebel angel with a mysterious past, but for some reason, he hadn’t taken up any of them on their offers, no matter how blatant or aggressive. And he’d always gone for the aggressive ones. Only now did he realize why.
Deep down, he’d wanted Harvester.
She slid her hand inside her panties, and he groaned as her fingers rubbed in slow circles under the material. “You sure you don’t want to fuck?”
Yes. No. Shit.
He clenched his teeth, unable to give her an answer. There was nothing he wanted more—aside from getting out of here alive—than to wrap Harvester’s long, slim legs around his waist and pound into her until they’d either killed the sexual tension screaming between them or they killed each other.
But he wanted to take it slow. Or, at least, to show her that what they were doing was about more than orgasms.
Because his feelings for her might be jumbled up in a tangle of remembered and forgotten events, but one thing was certain: He’d claimed her when he’d done the blood-bonding thing. Their relationship had been five thousand years in the making, and he wasn’t about to let it go, now or later.
They just needed to get out of Sheoul, destroy Lucifer, and get Harvester off Satan’s most wanted list first. Oh, and Reaver had to survive the archangels’ punishment.
No problem.
“Reaver, you said you’d give me what I needed,” she gritted out, when he didn’t reply quickly enough to please her. “I need to fuck. No mushy shit.”
She was still stroking herself, faster now, and his breath followed suit.
“Agreed,” he said. “But it won’t be a fuck to me.”
“Bastard.” The word was harsh, but her tone was almost weary, as if maybe she was as tired of their battles as he was. “Now strip.”
Her order made him smile. She very well might want to strip him herself, but the need for control outweighed her personal preferences. That was okay. Next time.
He fingered the top button on his fly and hesitated, loving how she was holding her breath in anticipation, her mouth open slightly, her green eyes as dark as a forest at night.
“Hurry,” she commanded him.
Very deliberately, he unbuttoned his fly slowly, revealing what was beneath in tiny increments. Pop. He exposed a tiny V of flesh. Pop. The V was bigger now, and the head of his arousal emerged, resting heavily against the denim. Pop. His shaft strained against the remaining buttons as if sensing freedom. Pop. Harvester began to pant. Pop. Freed, his arousal sprang loose, practically throbbing with the need to get inside her.
He kicked off his boots and lost the pants in rapid succession, done with the teasing. When he was standing before her, fully naked, Harvester purred.
“Now that,” she said in a husky voice that rumbled through him in an erotic tremor, “is more like it.”
They both stood, several feet apart, staring through space thick with sexual tension. Reaver’s body practically shook as he watched Harvester stroke herself, her full breasts rising and falling with her rapid breaths.
“Touch yourself,” she demanded.
He palmed his shaft, and abruptly, her scent grew stronger. She liked to watch, did she? Okay, he’d play that game. Gripping his cock firmly, he slid his fist down and back up, noting how her ivory skin flushed and her pupils dilated.
“Faster,” she whispered, and oh, yes, he could do faster.
Her arousal fed his, hot, potent, and as he pumped his fist up and down his length, a climax built like steam in a pressure cooker. He wasn’t going to last, not if she kept stroking herself, her gaze fixed on watching him.
Extracting her hand from her panties, Harvester strutted toward him, her hips swaying hypnotically. She stopped a foot away, close enough that her heat scorched him. With a teasing smile, she put her glistening fingers to his mouth.
“Taste me,” she murmured.
Lord have mercy, he thought, as he closed his lips around her fingers and sucked. Her honeyed flavor burst on his tongue, making him groan and sparking another piece of memory. He’d given her three orgasms with his tongue all those years ago, and although he’d been wracked with the need for revenge, he’d also been desperate to wring every drop of pleasure out of her that he could.
“If we weren’t in a box that could drop us in the middle of a volcano at any second, I’d have you on your knees right now, angel.” Sliding him a naughty smirk, she withdrew her hand from his mouth and kissed him, just a peck, but it was enough to make the ground shift under him. “I’d see if that talented tongue of yours could take me to Heaven again.”
“I’ll get you to Heaven one way or another,” he swore.
“Now,” s
he breathed. “I want to be there now.”
She covered his hand with her own and pressed her thumb to the tip of his cock. His hissed at the intensity of her touch, and when an electric friction sizzled down his shaft and into his balls, he shouted. An out-of-control buzz spread from her hand through his entire body as it brought him as close to orgasm as he could get without tipping over.
“You’re using your power.” Damn… just… damn. She kept it going, channeling a masterful sexual talent into him that left him straining and panting on the verge of climax for far too long, and yet, he silently begged her to keep going.
Releasing him, she stepped away and shoved her panties down. “I’m ready. I want you to—”
He didn’t let her finish. He’d lost his ability to follow orders five minutes ago.
With a low growl, he grabbed her hips and spun her into the wall. His cock prodded her rear as he captured her wrists with one hand and jerked her arms up over her head so she was caged between his body and the wall and at his mercy.
“Reaver,” she gasped.
Burying his face in her hair, he slid his hand between her legs and lightly caressed the plump lips of her sex. Her moan encouraged him, and he used one finger to delve into her slit. Her arousal coated his fingertip as he eased it into her core, testing her readiness and making her rock into his hand.
Now. He needed to have her now.
Shuddering in anticipation, he guided himself inside her slick channel. He filled her, but she filled him too, with her scent, her warmth, her very essence. It was as if she was the only female in the universe, wiping out everyone else he’d been with in the past. She was suddenly his everything.
He wished they had time to do this right, but aside from the fact that they were inside a box that could open up into the middle of Satan’s army, the option to go slow had been forfeited when Harvester decided to turn her hand into a fallen-angel-powered sex toy.
Lunging, he seated himself to the hilt, lifting her off the ground with the force of his thrust. They both shouted at the intensity of their joining, and then, in a mindless frenzy, he drilled into her. The slap of flesh on flesh joined her cries of pleasure, the wet, erotic sounds taking him higher and higher.
