End of Eden (Se7en Sinners Book 2)

by S. L. Jennings

  “You sure about that?” he murmurs, dipping his head closer, motivating me to step onto my toes.

  “I’d say you’re already hired. Hell, you’re employee of the month.”

  “Mmmmm…and what’s my reward for that?”

  Slowly sliding my arms down his chest, I saunter back a few steps and take the sash of my short robe between my fingertips. Then with my hooded gaze still pinned on his, I untie it, letting the robe fall from my shoulders to the floor. Sterling eyes flicker with devilish temptation as he takes in the black lace number, stitched with silver thread that seems to shimmer against my fair skin. The bodice is sheer, giving him a sneak peek of my already pebbled nipples. There are cutouts on each side, showcasing the dip of my waist curving into shapely hips. The lustrous fabric cuts high, leaving just a thin strip to cover my sex, and even less to contain my ass.

  I’d always been self-conscious of my curves in the past. But the way Legion looks at me—like his only desire on this Earth is to rip every scrap of lace from my body and devote his very existence to worshipping it for hours and hours on end—makes me feel like the sexiest woman on the planet.

  He steps forward and reaches behind me, taking a handful of my ass while also pulling me flush against his chest. I yelp at impact.

  “Careful, firecracker. Or we won’t be going anywhere for a very long time,” he growls, his voice low and violent in my ear. Even against the heat of his frame, I shiver.

  “I won’t let you,” I whisper.

  He laughs, dark and sinister. “Who said anything about you letting me?”

  Anyone else would be terrified by this little game, but it only rouses my excitement further. With one hand gripping my backside, his other comes to tangle in my hair, pulling with just enough pressure to sting at my scalp.

  “We’re going to be late,” I rasp, as he runs his lips up and down the column of my neck.

  “That is my intention.” He tugs my hair at the same time he tightens his grip on my ass, causing me to moan. “Seems like it’s your intention, too.”

  “It’s not,” I lie.

  “I bet if I reach my hand between your thighs, you’ll be soaking wet for me.”

  “No, I won’t.” Another fib.

  “Oh, really?” He lifts his head, yet stays so close that I can feel the warmth of his breath. “Funny thing about being supernatural, Eden. I can smell you. I can almost taste you. Lie, if you must, but we both know the truth. You want me.”

  “So? Maybe I do. But unlike you, I have a little self-control.”

  “Self-control, huh?”

  The hand on my ass begins to dip lower, until he’s pushing between my thighs from behind. The thin, sheer fabric is like a second skin, and just the barest of touches over my sweltering sex causes me to tremble.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just relax,” he instructs, his voice mellow.

  He presses his palm against me, while his fingers stroke my clit through the lace, just with enough weight to feel him there. Then suddenly, his hand is consumed with heat that seems to vibrate and flow right into me. It engulfs my insides, cradling every nerve ending with a warm, throbbing pressure that brings me to the edge, but keeps me bound in a state of vicious purgatory. It’s that feeling right before release…the prologue to the most intense orgasm of my life. I gasp, throwing my head back as I try to move against his hand, my body pleading for just a little more, but he holds me completely still, refusing me mercy. I look up at him with pleading eyes and watch as the corners of his mouth curve into a wicked grin.

  And in a move that can only be described as pure evil, he takes a step back, removing his hand, yet leaving his pulsating heat deep within my womb.

  “What. Was. That?” I pant as the pressure ebbs and flows inside me. I’m so incredibly wet, and the friction of the lace on my sex is only heightening the sensation.

  “Testing your self-control. Now, we should finish getting ready.” He gently sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, looking me up and down. “Dinner should be fun.”

  I’m burning up. My body is flush from head to toe. And that radiating throb—like a fiery knot of unadulterated bliss—keeps pumping inside me, bringing me right to the brink, only to subside into a tingling ache.

  “You can’t…leave me…like this. Please.” My breaths are coming so rapidly that I feel I may pass out. There’s no way I can sit through dinner like this. I’d be squirming in my seat and trying to bite down on my moans as shockwaves spread through me.

  Still wearing that smug smile, he steps over to me, this time, cupping my sex from the front. At just the feel of his hand, I begin to quake between my thighs.

  “Easy, baby. I’ll make it better.”

  Another blast of heat, and the pressure eases, but just barely. I can still feel it—feel him—although it’s not as powerful. I’ll still be struggling to keep it together, but at least I’ll be able to fight the temptation to rip off my clothes and bend over on the table.

  With what little pride I have left, I lift my chin and paint on a mask of cool indifference.

  “Ten minutes. We leave in ten minutes,” I state. But even I can’t deny the tremble in my voice.

  I hurry to touch up my makeup and finish my hair, pausing every thirty seconds to breathe through bouts of agonizing pleasure, my shaking hands grasping the bathroom countertop. When I emerge to dress, I find L sitting on the bed, looking devilishly gorgeous in head to toe black, much like what he wore to the Watcher’s mansion. I remember thinking that he was easily the most alluring man I had ever seen that night, and that feeling is only intensified now. With his heat flowing through me and his starlit eyes roaming my curves as I slip into my dress, I feel as if he could simply breathe my name and I’d come on command.

  He reaches over and picks up a crystal wineglass filled with burgundy liquid.

  “Here. Drink. It’ll help.”

  I take the offered glass from his fingertips and ask, “Some supernatural tonic to make me hallucinate?”

  Legion shakes his head. “Wine. It’ll take the edge off.”

  I purse my lips in mock distrust before taking a sip. It’s good. Really good. Comparable to the vino served when I was in…

  I block the thought before it fully manifests in my head.

  I hadn’t had any more visions of Lucifer. Even my dreams were Devil-free. And it felt…weird. Not having that intrusion after feeling his presence for so long—it kept me on edge. That night when he appeared on the bed while Legion fucked me senseless had to have been a fluke. Maybe it was just residual affects from being in Hell. I kept waiting for him to return, but he never did, as if he had abandoned all thought of me altogether. And if what Legion said was true—if he did in fact let me go—it would seem that he didn’t want me anymore.

  Good.

  I down the wine to dispel any and all thoughts of Lucifer from my mind. Not tonight. After the rusty ass rollercoaster my life has been for the last month, I just want a normal night doing what normal couples do. Then I want to come home and have amazing sex with my anti-boyfriend.

  After the throbbing in my sex has finally ceased and I’ve managed to slip on my shoes, I go to grab my purse and notice that I have a new text message.

  Checking in. Can we meet?

  I quickly scan the words and stuff the tiny cell phone to the very bottom of my purse without responding. Legion, who thankfully is none the wiser, stands at the bedroom door, holding my coat open for me.

  “Have everything?” he questions.

  I slip my arms through my coat. “Everything I need.”

  I don’t know how long I can keep this up.

  When I moved in, I let Crysis know that I wouldn’t steal from the Se7en. But I also hadn’t told Legion about the half human-half angel Alliance agent that had essentially blackmailed me. He knew about my time in Hell, but the rest of the Alliance didn’t, including my father. And if they had, he swears I would be locked up for life, and for some strange
reason, he didn’t want that to happen. However, he wanted me to infiltrate the Se7en, use their fondness for me against them, and hopefully, steal their sacred dagger, the Redeemer.

  Which is fucking ridiculous.

  Instead, I offer him bits of information, nothing major, just enough to keep him placated until I can come up with a plan to save my own ass without betraying the Se7en. The rational thing would have been to go to Legion with Crysis’ demands. But I know he would have raised hell trying to defend me, and I don’t want them going head to head with the Alliance. And oddly enough, I want to protect Crysis, just like he wants to protect me. None of it makes sense—I know. But there’s been enough killing on my behalf.

  By the time we’ve made it down to the garage, all thoughts of the Alliance and betrayal are gone. Legion takes my hand and leads me over to his car—a brand new Jaguar XJ, a replica of the one that was destroyed in the wreckage Lucifer caused.

  “I love this car,” I coo, sinking down into the plush leather seat. Although I’ve never been a car enthusiast, that new car smell is like an aphrodisiac to me.

  “Really? You did enough complaining about riding in it during the drive to Colorado.”

  “That was different. You were trying to torture me with turkey jerky and veggie chips.”

  “And now?” He gives me a sidelong glance, putting the car into drive.

  “Now…I’d go anywhere with you. But only if I get to pick the snacks. And the music.”

  We race off through the underground tunnels marked with runes of Dark magic. When we hit the street, we’re met with large, fluffy flakes of snow. A month ago, I would have bitched and whined about having to trudge through the frozen, white sludge, but now, sitting beside the sexiest creature on Earth, my butt firmly planted on a heated leather seat, it all looks so beautiful, like tiny angel wings falling from the heavens dusting everything with sparkling downy. I never realized just how magical the city was at night. The sights, the sounds, the people…this is my home. But it never quite felt like that until now. Until Legion.

  “What?” he asks, his deep voice a soft caress under the veil of moonlight.

  I hadn’t even realized I was staring at him. I shake my head. “Nothing. Just…happy.”

  “Happy? It’s just a car. I can give you a few moments alone with it if you like.”

  “No, smart ass.” I smack him playfully on the shoulder and roll my eyes. “I mean, I’m legit happy. It’s been weeks without any attacks, no crazy nightmares, my sister and I are closer than ever, and Phenex has been teaching me to control my impulses. I’d say life is as good as it will ever get for me, and I’m not mad at it.”

  “I’m glad,” L smiles, reaching over to give my thigh a gentle squeeze. “So your sessions with Phenex have been helping?”

  “I think so. Granted, I haven’t been anywhere to actually test it, but considering I haven’t smothered Lilith in her sleep, I’d say I’m doing pretty well. Plus, meditating with Jinn every evening helps a lot. I feel Zen as fuck.”

  He laughs unguardedly, in that rare way that makes my chest warm. I only wish I could better see those pronounced dimples that I’ve spent the last two weeks tracing with my tongue. I’m staring again, and I don’t care. This is it. This is what true bliss feels like. And before it slips away, I just want to capture it in my palms, bottle it, and hold it to my chest for eternity.

  We arrive at the restaurant—a small, romantic place that L suggested—before my sister and Ben show up. When we walk in, along with the amazing fragrance of spices and freshly baked flatbreads, an older gentleman with skin the color of polished pennies greets us warmly. He speaks to L in his mother tongue, and when L flawlessly responds in kind, I’m more than impressed. Not because L speaks Amharic. But because the older man seems fond of L, and not the least bit intimidated. It’s as if he knows him personally, which seems like an act of divine intervention when it comes to L. I’ve slept beside him for the last month, offered my body and soul to him, and yes, while we have grown closer, it’s hard to feel like I actually know him. And considering he’s a billion year old fallen angel turned demon assassin, will I ever?

  I plaster on a smile and thank the older gentleman after he’s led us to an intimate table in the back. There are a few diners here already, but our area seems deliberate. I’ve been with the Se7en long enough to know that nothing is by chance. There is a visible path to the front door and the back leading to the kitchen. There’s also a half wall that partially blocks our table, perfect for hiding weapons. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s an escape hatch leading to the alley behind the building.

  “This is nice. Didn’t know you were a fan of Ethiopian food,” I remark, picking up the menu. Legion has ordered a bottle of wine for the table, although he’s not much of a drinker. To imbibe is to sin, and he does plenty of that with me.

  “I thought you’d like to try something different. It was actually Jinn who introduced me to this place. We’ve known Sami and his family for some time now. They’re good people.”

  I stare at him as he muses at the menu. I know he can feel my eyes on him, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

  “Do they…do they know?”

  L flips the laminated page of the menu. “I’ve known Sami since he was a boy. His father owned this restaurant when it was just a tiny kitchen with a couple of rickety tables. I suspect he knows that we are not merely mortal considering we haven’t aged in the past six decades. He doesn’t ask questions about us, and we don’t offer any explanations.”

  Reality is like a punch in the gut, knocking the wind right out of me.

  When my growing silence becomes too uncomfortable to ignore, L turns to me, slightly frowning. “Something wrong?”

  I put down the menu I wasn’t reading, my eyes fixed on my water glass. “You don’t age.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Well…I do.”

  I’m completely still until I feel his fingertips, warm and surprisingly gentle, touch my jaw to guide my face to his.

  “There are many things in your human life that are unpredictable. Death is not one of them. Be grateful that in time, you will be released from your world’s ills and find peace everlasting. Death is a gift, Eden. One that I envy very much.”

  Stunned, I simply gaze at him, unable to find the words to tell him that he’s wrong. Death isn’t a gift. Not where I’m going.

  I part my lips to attempt to tell him just that, but before I can, I hear my sister’s sing-song voice as she compliments Sami on the beautiful African artwork fixed around the restaurant. He replies in perfect English as he leads her and Ben to our little secluded area. As they approach, L stands.

  “Mary, so nice to see you again,” he smiles warmly. He extends a hand to Ben. “It’s good to finally meet you, Ben. Please. Sit.”

  Ben takes his hand, but I can tell he’s more than a little rattled by L’s size and commanding presence. Sister, not so much. After thanking Sami before he scurries off to the kitchen, she purses her lips and narrows her gaze.

  “L. You sure clean up well. This is definitely an improvement.” She takes the seat across from me, leaving Ben to sit opposite L. I think the poor boy just audibly gulped.

  Turning to me, those silver eyes glimmering with mirth, he replies, “Your sister has a way of making me want to be a better man.”

  I blush like a schoolgirl and turn to Sister, shooting her a look that says be nice. Which is crazy considering it’s usually her giving me that look whenever she needed me on my best behavior.

  On cue, Sami returns with the wine and a platter of various, brightly hued sauces and condiments served with some sort of flatbread, still wafting with curls of steam from the oven. It all looks delicious, albeit a bit intimidating.

  “Wow,” Sister remarks, taking in the spread before us. “This looks amazing. I’ve lived here my entire life, but never knew about this place.”

  “A hidden gem,” L replies, his voice tinged with buoyancy I’ve never
heard before. I can’t tell if it’s all an act for Sister, or if it’s genuine fondness for the restaurant and its owner.

  Then in an act that nearly makes Sister’s eyes bug out of her head, L takes a bit of the bread, scoops up some sauce, lentils and small chunks of meat, and brings it to my lips.

  “Open.” He breathes that single command as if he’s requesting access to the humid space between my thighs. My body tingles at the sound of his sultry tone.

  I do as he asks and he slides the fare onto my tongue, spicy and rich and exotic. I moan my satisfaction.

  “Good, right?”

  I can only muster a single nod as I watch him suck the remains off his fingers, his eyes low and trained on me.

  It’s nearly a full sixty seconds before I remember we aren’t alone, and when I look over at Sister and Ben, they’re both gawking, mouths open.

  “Dig in,” L says, breaking their awkward stares. “I hope you like it hot.”

  I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. This should be interesting.

  By the time Sami has brought out the second platter, this one featuring lamb, chicken and beef, I’m not the only one eating out the palm of L’s hand. Apparently, homeboy has done his homework. He wins Ben’s vote with his knowledge of sports, especially his favorite baseball team, the Cubs and their epic World Series win, which Ben deemed “an act of God.” Then he butters Sister up by asking about her work at the hospital, even hamming it all the way up by thanking her for her service and sacrifice to the community. And when he talks about his involvement in charities and foundations around the city, specifically those that benefit displaced and troubled youth, I seriously don’t know if I should laugh or kiss him. I’m legit impressed. He’s hitting all the marks, and it’s damn hard not to be completely taken by him.

  “So L, let me know when you want to catch a game, man,” Ben says as we slip on our coats.

  We’ve just finished up an amazing meal, one that Sami refused payment for when I inquired. Apparently, it was already taken care of. Not surprised.