Z pulled her mouth to his as one of his hands pushed past the waistband of her trousers. The kiss was hot, electric, and she felt like she might burst with sheer happiness from it. His other hand then cupped her breast, and she moaned when his finger swept over a hardened nipple. “Can I kiss you there?”
She nodded, and gasped when his mouth closed over her through the fabric. “Stop asking for permission.”
As if she would deny him.
Her body was on fire as he sucked one nipple, then the other, into his mouth. She wanted to taste him again, but when she tugged on his hair, trying to pull him back for another kiss, he resisted. Instead, he trailed kisses down her torso, past her belly button, and to the apex of her thighs. Her breath left her in a whoosh.
Then his mouth was moving her over her panties. Embarrassment speared through her. She was so wet...what if he hated it?
He pulled back. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry, it’s so...” she waved a hand awkwardly at her groin.
He grinned then, so hot and masculine, her knees went weak. “Delicious?”
Heat seared her cheeks, but then his tongue licked the seam of her sex, and her mind went blank. Pleasure built as his tongue and mouth sucked and caressed her, and soon, her knees gave way. Z grabbed her, laid her on the study’s floor. He was relentless, the sensation peaking, and she cried out, lights bursting on the back of her eyelids as ecstasy overwhelmed her.
Her whole body turned to liquid, and she relaxed in the aftermath of her first shared climax. Z crawled up her body then, pressing the hard length of his erection against her molten core. He gave her a teasing grin as she opened bleary eyes.
“I hope that was okay.”
Bolder than she thought possible, she slid her hand down his torso until she cradled his hardness. “More than.”
He made to roll away.
No.
She slid her hand up his length and he froze, chest heaving. “Peony?”
“I want this.” She tightened her grip.
“I’m not sure—”
“I am.”
Somehow, she managed to shove his trousers low enough to expose him, then she was spreading her legs, guiding the tip to where she ached. Z hissed at the contact.
A thought made her stop. “Do you want this?”
She needed to feel him. To be with him. But what if he didn’t want her?
He lowered his forehead to touch hers. “More than anything.”
Then he slowly pushed forward, stretching her, making her ache with wanting. Z leaned his weight on one arm, then clasped one of her ungloved hands in his, their fingers entwining, the intimacy so intense she wanted to cry. He kissed her cheeks, and then slowly withdrew, before sliding back in, her body welcoming him with a firm squeeze.
“This is going to kill me,” he muttered.
She laughed again.
“Laugh all you want, wench. I will have my revenge.”
He was teasing her.
It was wonderful.
Then he was fully within her and he began to move.
Pleasure threatened to overload her senses, and she tilted her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust. Z was all she could see, all she could feel; she was part of him, and he was part of her. She didn’t think she’d ever felt more complete. Then the pleasure spiked, so intense she screamed, his shout following hers soon after.
She lay beneath him, her heart pounding in time to his, and it was all she could do just to breathe.
Z brushed some of her hair from her forehead. “Are you okay?”
She answered as honestly as she could. “Never been better.”
Chapter 36
Z didn’t know up from down, good from bad, right from wrong. Everything he’d been taught was a lie—not all demons were evil. In fact, some demons were more ‘good’ than angels.
Case in point: Peony was a better person than him.
She had given herself freely, with no expectation, just welcome arms and the taste of love on her tongue. Could he have done the same, given their respective situations?
He wasn’t so sure.
But he knew one thing: he couldn’t leave her now, if only because making love with her had been just that—making love. The pleasure he had reached in her arms had made the satisfaction he’d found with Dina pallid.
Also, he couldn’t leave her because she was his better half, and she planned to make a new life for herself here, and she’d need help. Someone to watch over her. A partner.
A life in Heaven, where he would be forever marginalized because of the color of his wings wasn’t the life he wanted. He could fight here, every day, by trying to make the Mortus a little less evil.
A fool’s errand.
But one he would do, if Peony were by his side.
She stirred in his arms, her satin-smooth skin sliding against his. “Should we find the others?”
“No.”
She laughed joyously, then stood and grabbed her clothes, hiding her naked body, still self-conscious. He wanted to tell her that it was okay, he relished the sight of her, but he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. This was all so new to her.
And him.
He hadn’t ever made love before. What was the protocol?
Peony made quick work of dressing and turned, stopping short at the sight of him sprawled on the rug. He would have flexed his biceps if they weren’t such sad excuses for muscles. Giving himself a mental shake—he would regain his former build—he threw his clothes on as well.
“Do you know what Azrael has been doing, while he’s been waiting for Dru?” Peony asked.
He shook his head. The other Dart had been conspicuously absent for the majority of their time in the Mortus den. Z had a feeling it was because the other angel was playing matchmaker.
After they left the study, Peony reached out shyly and took his hand. Twining their fingers together like teenagers, they walked down the halls, toward the harem’s communal area. Peony didn’t particularly like leaving the room for too long, just in case Dru returned there before them. She was worried her sister would kill first and ask questions later, especially considering what the den had been like when she’d arrived.
Once there, she stopped next to one of the ash piles. “I feel guilty.”
“Why? They were dead.”
“They died because of me.”
“They chose their actions.”
She let go of his hand and wrapped her arms around his torso, hugging him. Trick’s brand on his stomach burned at the contact. For a moment, he was stunned by the sheer trust she had in him, then he held her close, breathing in the sugar-and-cinnamon scent of her.
A crackle of electricity made him tense. Looking down into her eyes, wondering what had upset her, he saw nothing but pure gray.
Releasing her, he turned around, only to be slammed to the floor, a heavy weight pinning him down.
As his face was ground into a pile of ash, he shouted, “Peony!”
She screamed, “Let him go!”
Instead, his arms were wrenched behind his back, his wings crushed in the process. “You’re coming with us, angel-boy,” snarled a rough voice he didn’t recognize.
Had Trick sent people to steal him back?
I will not be taken again.
Summoning the blade of fire to his constrained hands, he grinned at the resulting grunt of pain. The grip on his wrists loosened, and he spun out of the hold, jumping to his feet and spreading his wings for balance.
Infernus.
Three of the demons were in the hall, one with a cauterized wound on his torso, and two holding Peony by the arms. Too bad her long sleeves had prevented their instant deaths.
“Are you okay?” he called to her.
She nodded, her expression tight.
“What do you want?” Z demanded.
One of the Infernus holding Peony spoke: “We want you. Come with us, a
nd we won’t have to hurt the girl.” Electricity arced over the huge demon’s wings.
Peony’s reply was authoritative, “If you leave this instant, I’ll let you live.”
They laughed.
“You? We heard about you, healer girl. You can’t hurt a fly.” The demon wrenched her arm up.
I’m going to rip off his limb as punishment.
“I warned you,” Peony said, and her eyes swirled with darkness. Clearly, the Infernus hadn’t spotted the coronet around her forehead, or realized what it meant for them, standing in the Mortus den.
The Infernus next to Z lunged, claws grabbing onto his wing and digging in. The pain was instant and fiery, and he gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to wrench the wing away. That would just cause more damage, and he wasn’t sure how quickly it would heal.
The demon’s fingers slid over the fine filaments of jade in his feathers.
Then a harsh curse filled the air, and the grip on his wings slackened.
The Infernus collapsed to the ground, thrashing against the carpet, foam spitting from his mouth. A second later, he was dead.
“What the fuck did you do?” one of the other Infernus shouted, digging his claws into Peony’s delicate arm.
Z had no idea. Had his wing poisoned the demon?
“Just grab the angel and go!”
The new voice made Z swing around.
He didn’t recognize the demon’s face, but he knew that voice. It was from one of his abductors.
The two demons holding Peony let go and launched themselves at Z. He ducked and wove, kicking and slicing with his flame sword where he could. He grunted when he missed a block, a fist ramming hard into his stomach. The air left his lungs in a rush, but he ignored the discomfort and slashed an opponent on the arm with the blade. The stench of burning flesh rose around him.
“Grab him!”
Z was tripped, then pinned to the ground, a starburst of pain making him giddy as his nose broke. Peony screamed his name.
Have to save her. Have to save me.
But two massive weights held him down, and he was too weak to throw them off.
“Get off him!” Peony shouted.
The air around him intensified, as a spell took shape. They were trying to teleport him away.
I can’t leave her.
One moment, the air was sizzling with power, the next, ash drifted down on him. He lay there, panting for a second, before leaping to his feet, blade out.
Peony strode forward, her eyes a deep darkness. “Bad form, Kerrington. Coming to steal what isn’t yours.”
She knew the demon’s name?
“We just need to borrow him.” The demon spread his hands out, palms up. “Then he can go back to Trick.”
She shook her head. “No deal.”
“I’m not asking for permission.” Kerrington lunged at Z. “He’s coming with me.”
But now it was just Kerrington versus Z and Peony, they would win.
I want him taken alive.
Z darted to the side, just as Peony stepped closer, eyes burning.
“Don’t ash him!” he shouted.
But just as Z sprang to grapple with the demon, Kerrington toppled to the ground, his leathery wings flailing. There was a knife embedded in one of his eyes.
“What—?”
Who?
Damnit!
Z needed answers, and the demon could have provided them...
“You’re welcome!” Dru called.
“I totally had that kill!” Azrael shouted from the other side of the room.
Inspecting the body more closely, Z noticed two more knife hilts protruding from the demon’s back.
Death from both sides.
He growled in frustration.
“My knife made the kill,” Dru said, and Z did a double take at the sight of her. Her white hair was smeared with blood and gore, and her face sported a black eye and a split lip. Her clothing was torn, and gashes scored her body.
Azrael was by her side in an instant, his hands gentle as he ran them over her body, checking the wounds. “What the Hell happened to you?”
“Fucking Metcalf.”
“Metcalf did that?” Peony asked, eyes shifting back to gray.
The imp limped over and began prodding the Infernus’ limp form. “Hey! Don’t blame me. I didn’t cut her up.”
“If you hadn’t touched my ring, we wouldn’t have ended up in Sheol surrounded by a bunch of Reynard’s Imps,” Dru said.
Metcalf raised glimmering black eyes. “It was glorious.”
“Glorious? I nearly got turned into lunch!”
“But we killed so many of them. My family didn’t know what hit them.”
“Yes they did—they knew it was you,” Dru grumbled.
“You’re right. It was great.”
Peony’s sister shook her head. “Fucking cannibal.”
Metcalf looked pleased.
“Actually,” a cold voice said, interrupting the banter, “the kill was mine.”
Godric.
I hadn’t even realized the demon was in the room.
Either Z was getting lax, or the Mortus was that sneaky. He had a feeling it was the latter.
They all turned to the demon as he strode toward them and plucked one of the daggers from the Infernus’ back. He cleaned the blade on the dead male’s pants.
“Metcalf! Don’t eat that!” Dru slapped the imp’s hand away from Kerrington’s corpse.
“What?” The imp rubbed his wrist. “I’ve never had Infernus before.”
“And you aren’t about to start now.”
“You are seriously a buzz kill. Peony would let me.”
The Mortus queen turned slightly green. “Uhh...”
“Just burn the body and be done with it,” Azrael said.
“Burn the body?” Dru glanced around the room and frowned when she spotted the piles of ash. “How many Infernus attacked you?”
“Oh, these are mostly Mortus,” Godric said, slipping his blade away.
“Who killed them?”
Frosted gray eyes glanced over them. “You, them, me, Peony...”
“Peony?”
The healer winced. “Only some of the Infernus, and two of the Mortus.”
“Some of the Infernus? What the Hell happened?”
Azrael ran a hand over his mate’s arm. “I’ll explain later.”
“You better.”
Godric kicked Metcalf’s hand, which had somehow made its way back to the corpse. “And don’t burn the bodies. Not yet, anyway.”
“Why not?” Peony asked, her expression sad and grim.
Godric smiled mirthlessly “Because we need to send a little message.”
Chapter 37
Godric opened the door and Peony stopped on the threshold. When she’d asked if the den had the Internet, she hadn’t expected him to whisk her and Z away to a room that looked like a state-of-the-art government installation. There were LCD screens everywhere, along with a huge server in the back, and a bunch of herbs and skulls lining the walls. A desk wrapped around three walls of the room, and it was packed with high-tech equipment, most of which Peony couldn’t name.
“The Internet requires sacrifices and spells, at least in Inferno,” Godric said, noticing where she was looking.
She shuddered. At least none of the skulls looked human or demon.
Peony walked into the room and took a seat on one of the swivel chairs. “Do you have Skype?”
He stared at her. “Skype?”
“You know—”
“Of course, I know. You think I have this set up and I don’t know what fucking Skype is?” The demon shook his head and opened a laptop that had been sitting on a desk. “Here. Who do you want to call?”
Peony wiped a hand over her face. “Trick.”
Z tensed beside her, and she laid a gentle hand on his arm.
“The asshole
who sold you?” Godric rubbed a hand over his chin. “He lied to us.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, but that’s Trick. If he can screw you over, he will.”
“Why do you want to call him?”
“How about you just do what your queen asks of you?” Peony snapped.
Fake it till you make it.
It had been her motto in the throne room, and whenever she spoke to the Mortus. In fact, she had decided to channel Dru. Her sister wouldn’t have put up with any of their attitude, and the Mortus seemed to respect her for it. But it didn’t change how she felt—guilt and shame for breaking a promise she’d made to herself, sorrow for taking lives, no matter that she had done it to protect first Milly and then Z.
“As Your Highness wishes.”
The Skype dial-tone sounded and then the video feed kicked in. Trick appeared, his golden hair disheveled and chocolate-brown eyes suspicious. He wouldn’t be expecting a call from the Mortus king’s address. “To what do I owe the pleasure of—wait, Peony?”
“Hi, Trick.” She waved, giving him a small, twisted smile. “You were expecting someone else?”
She stared at the computer screen hard, but it didn’t show her Trick’s aura, which was a shame. She would have loved the extra information—she might have even been able to work out his species.
Her former slave-master frowned. “Why do you have a crown on?”
“Oh this?” She waved a hand at her head. “I killed the king and now I’m queen. You know, the usual.”
He blinked at her. Then said slowly, “You killed the king?”
She turned to look at Z and Godric. “Did I mumble? I thought I was clear.”
“Sounded clear to me,” Z replied.
Trick spluttered. “Is that—?”
“The angel you had stashed away that recently went AWOL? Why, yes it is.”
She was perhaps enjoying this conversation a bit too much.
“Peony—”
“That tone doesn’t work on me anymore. I don’t answer to you.”
“No, but he does.” Trick pointed at Z.
“No, he doesn’t.”
“He’s a blood slave. I own him.”
“Fraudulently obtained,” Peony snapped.
“It’s his thumbprint on the contract.”
That was true, she’d seen them pressing his thumb on it.
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