Seraphim Academy 2: Sinful Things

by Elizabeth Briggs

  It’s definitely not nothing. Delilah’s words come back to me. Eventually you will kill this person, just as you would a human.

  Bastien and I slept together a few days ago. I’ve had sex with him for months now, using him for my own sustenance, and I must be draining him dry. Adding in Marcus wasn’t enough. I was a fool to think I could survive off of two lovers. I need to add another one immediately, or risk losing both Bastien and Marcus.

  Marcus puts his arm around me. "Want me to fly back to your dorm with you? Watch a movie?"

  I want to. It sounds like a normal thing someone would do with their boyfriend. But it would probably lead to sex, and I don’t know if Marcus can take it. What if I hurt him, like I did with Bastien?

  “No, I can’t tonight. Maybe some other time.”

  He leans close and kisses me softly. “Okay, some other time.”

  Bastien and Callan both watch the exchange—Bastien with interest, and Callan with disgust.

  I fly back to my dorm, entering the living room through the balcony doors and closing them behind me. I need to visit the library tomorrow and check out that one good book on Lilim and see if there’s anything I can do for Bastien. Does he just need time to recover? Or can I—

  I’m interrupted from my thoughts by a banging on my balcony doors. I jump like ten feet and spin around, reaching for my dagger, but it’s Callan.

  I throw open the sliding door. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  He practically pushes me out of the way as he steps inside. “You’re hurting Bastien, aren’t you? And probably Marcus too.”

  I tear my eyes away from him, the guilt punching me in the gut. “Yes, I am. Not on purpose though.”

  “I suppose I can’t tell you to stay away from them.”

  “I would, if I could.” I run a hand through my hair as I consider. “I could go back to sleeping with human strangers, but I’d have to leave campus.”

  “No. Not an option.”

  “All right, then I’ll have to sleep with other people here. I’ve been trying to feed off of sex dreams and stuff like that, but it wasn’t enough. But maybe I can find someone else—”

  “How many angels do you need to survive?”

  “Three I think. Maybe four. If they’re strong.”

  He nods with a grim set to his mouth. “Then it has to be me.”

  I take a step back, my mouth open. “You?”

  “I don’t trust anyone else, and I’m the strongest person on campus, other than maybe Uriel.”

  “But—I hate you. And you hate me.”

  “I also swore to protect you. I can’t have you running off and fucking some stranger.”

  “So you’ll fuck me instead?” I let out a laugh that sounds a little crazed. How did I get into this mess?

  “I’ll do what I have to do.” He grabs the front of my dress to yank me closer, and then his mouth slants down over mine. It’s so forceful and sudden I bring my hands up to circle his neck, as if I might strangle him. I’m tempted, but then his kiss demands my full attention, and somehow my fingers have started caressing his throat instead of choking it.

  His large hand slips down and cups my breast through my dress, then pinches my nipple hard, making me gasp. He groans a little at the sound and pushes me back against the edge of the couch.

  I spin away from him and move to my bedroom door, knowing he’ll follow me. As I reach it, Callan claims me again with his hands and his mouth and his body, and I press myself against him, unable to resist. He reaches behind me and turns the door handle, and we practically fall inside. Someone slams the door shut, and I think it’s me, but I barely notice anything except his mouth on mine.

  Callan picks me up and slams me back against the door, hard. As hard as his cock, which grinds against me as he lifts me up and wraps my legs around his hips. We’re devouring each other, hands and mouth and teeth, and all thoughts are gone as I pop open the buttons on his shirt and tear it off him. My dress is next, yanked up and tossed over my head, and then my bra’s gone too. He unzips his jeans, I push my panties aside, and then he’s inside me, hard and fast and huge. I can only gasp as I stretch around him, but he gives me no time to adjust.

  He plunges into me, and each stroke feels like he’s trying to conquer me, possess me, master me. But he’s given himself up to me, a half-demon he claims he hates, and even though it looks like he’s in control, I’m the one with all the power. Sex is my domain, and after one taste of this succubus, he’ll only want more and more. Problem is, I’ll want more of him too.

  He bounces me up and down on him, pumping into me fast like he can’t control himself. I wrap my arms around his neck and throw my head back, and his mouth finds my throat and claims me there too. We’re both possessed by some kind of madness, and it has nothing to do with my succubus side. This is all us.

  Harder and faster our bodies move, his hips thrusting me back against the door and making it rattle. It’s intense and rough and so very good and exactly what I needed. Nothing relieves stress like a good round of hot, dirty sex, even with the guy you hate. Or maybe especially with the guy you hate.

  Then he steps back, away from the door, our bodies joined as one in the middle of the room. He reaches down and grabs my ass, shifting me higher so he can get a better angle, and I cry out, but not in pain. Not exactly, anyway. I cling to his muscular body as he keeps pumping, and when the orgasm hits me like a freight train, I sink my teeth into his shoulder. He groans and digs his fingers into my ass as he keeps pounding me, before he fills me with his power. It’s so strong I would fall over if he wasn’t holding me up. Stronger than Marcus and Bastien. Maybe even stronger than Kassiel. It must be the result of his double Archangel blood.

  Damn, a succubus could get used to this.

  Of course, that would mean fucking Callan again. Because oh shit, I just fucked Callan. Or more accurately, he fucked me. Oh yeah, he fucked me good and hard.

  But damn, it was worth it.

  Chapter Thirty

  Olivia

  When it’s over, Callan drops me on the bed and glares down at me, so I see we’re back to our old ways again. He tugs on his shirt, then tosses me my dress, all without saying a word.

  Finally I manage to say, “Thanks.”

  He frowns at me, like he’s confused by the word. “How often do we need to do that?”

  “Every couple weeks, I think.”

  “I can do that.” Then he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “But don’t think we’re dating or anything. This is just fucking.”

  I stretch out on the bed, still naked and gleaming with sweat. His eyes can’t help but devour me. “Fine with me. I don’t want anything more from you. Not now. Not ever.”

  “One more thing. No one can know about this, or it’s over.” He grabs my ass hard, kneading the cheeks with his fingers. I wonder if he’s an ass guy. Maybe he’d like to put his cock back there sometime. I’m wet again just thinking about it.

  I gaze up at him. “What, you don’t want anyone to know you’re fucking the succubus? Or worse, that you liked it? That even now, you want more and can barely resist?”

  He releases me and shakes his head, then stomps to the balcony door. He throws it open so hard the doorframe rattles, and then he launches himself through it with a flash of gold wings. Leaving me there with the door open.

  I stand and close the door, then move to my desk, where I’ve set up the nanny cam that was once in a stuffed llama. After that initiate stole my mug, I made a point to record everything in my room when I’m not in it. Tonight I never turned it off once I got home.

  I pull up the recording on my laptop. It got everything from the moment we stepped into the bedroom. Our frenzied fucking. Our conversation afterward. That look of angry desire as he left. It’s all there, the perfect video to ruin him. I just have to decide when to strike.

  A massive crash on my balcony jerks me from my sleep. My heart leaps through my throat as I sit up. Is C
allan back? Or am I under attack? I quickly grab for my dagger off the nightstand and jump out of bed, glad Hilda told us to keep a weapon on us at all times.

  I slip to the wall and turn on a small light on the balcony, then peer through the curtains. As soon as I can clearly see what's out there, I gasp and drop my dagger. Then I quickly throw open the balcony door.

  “Father!” I ask, rushing to his side. He’s collapsed on my balcony, completely naked and covered in blood. But the worst part are his wings—they’ve been butchered, the silver feathers missing and torn, the skin flayed and the bones broken. There’s so much blood, I can barely look at the damage without wanting to throw up. “What happened?”

  “Help me inside,” he gets out through gritted teeth.

  I bend down and help him up, and he leans heavily on me as we stumble into my bedroom. He can’t retract his wings, and he lets out a small cry as they brush against the doorway. Tears roll down my cheeks at the sound. I may not have a perfect relationship with my father, but seeing him hurt like this is heartbreaking.

  I help him onto the bed, not even caring that my sheets will be ruined. He can only lie on his side, with his wings hanging behind him, and every time he moves, fresh agony washes through him and makes his face tighten.

  “I’m sorry,” he gets out. “I tried to teleport to Angel Peak but I ended up here somehow.”

  “It’s okay. I’m going to get help. Araceli is a Malakim, she can heal you.”

  “No. Must keep this quiet.” He tries to shift a little and groans. “I’ll heal…eventually.”

  “We can trust Araceli.” I clasp his big hand and lean close. "I'll be right back."

  Rushing out my bedroom door, I yell Araceli's name as I burst into her room. She jumps out of bed with a wild and scared look on her face. She's already got her hand on her sword. "What?"

  "My dad. He's in my room and hurt."

  It takes her a split second to process, but when she does, she places the sword back in its spot beside her bed, then grabs her robe, running ahead of me out of the room as she throws it on.

  She pauses in the doorway of my bedroom and gasps when she sees the bruised and bloody naked angel on my bed. For a second she covers her mouth in horror, and then she gathers her inner strength and composes herself. She rushes into the room and touches Gabriel’s arm, closing her eyes as a warm glow emanates from her hands. I’ve never been so glad to have a healer as my roommate.

  As she works, I hover nearby, wringing my hands. “Were you attacked? Was it the human hunters?”

  “No,” he whispers between groans. “It was Azrael.”

  “Azrael? Why?”

  Father’s jaw is clenched tight, but he sucks in a deep breath and opens his mouth. I lean close to hear him. "Punishment. For you.”

  His words send a shard of ice into my heart. He warned me something like this would happen, but I never imagined this. How could they do this to one of their own?

  Gabriel’s eyes close, and his wings go slack. I rush forward, fearing the worst, but realize he’s just sleeping.

  Araceli removes her hands and shakes her head. “This is beyond me. I’ve put him in a healing sleep, but we’ll need someone a lot stronger than me to heal him completely. Raphael might be the only angel who can.”

  “Raphael isn’t an option.” If this was punishment for me, then the entire Archangel Council must be in on it. “I’ll call Marcus.”

  The phone rings and rings, but then finally Marcus answers with a groggy voice. “Liv? What is it?”

  “I need your help in my apartment. Come quickly.”

  “Be right there.”

  He flies up to the balcony doors exactly three minutes later, wearing a worn Beetles t-shirt and loose pajama pants. “Oh shit,” he says when I let him in, but he rushes forward immediately to my father’s side.

  “I put him in a healing sleep, but I wasn’t sure what else to do,” Araceli says.

  “Good thinking.” Marcus studies Gabriel’s wings and touches them lightly, while his face takes on a look of determination. I’ve only seen Marcus work once before, but never on something as bad as this. “Dark-infused wounds. Whoever did this made sure it would take a long, painful time to heal. This is going to need intricate healing.”

  I remember when I was cut with a dark-infused blade last year, and how painful it was. I can’t even imagine how much agony my father must have been in when he arrived, and I’m grateful to Araceli for knocking him out, and to Marcus for coming so quickly.

  “What can I do?” I ask.

  “We’ll need some water. Both to drink and to clean his wounds.”

  I nod. “No problem.”

  I rush out of the room and gather supplies, including some towels from our bathroom. We’ll need new ones after this, but whatever. When I get back, Marcus has begun the painstaking job of moving slowly over Dad's wings with his glowing hands. I stand in the doorway, feeling powerless. Callan left only a few hours ago, and his energy still bursts through me, making me feel invincible, but I’m no healer. All I can do is keep out of their way and hope my father gets through this without too much permanent damage.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Marcus

  Healing is a lot like playing the guitar, I’ve learned. Sure, any Malakim can do it, even without training, just like any idiot can pick up a guitar and strum it to make sounds come out. But to actually be a real healer, you need to study for years. You need to learn all the body parts and how they work together, just like a guitarist needs to learn the notes and chords and how to combine them into a song. You need to practice as often as possible. And to be really good, you need to have innate talent.

  My father is the best healer in the world. I’ve personally seen him bring someone back from the dead. My healing is only a shadow of what he can do, and I’ll have to use all of my strength and training to heal Gabriel. Even with Araceli here to assist.

  "How can I help?" Araceli asks, at my side.

  "The best thing you can do is keep him asleep the entire time. I'm going to try to heal what would take weeks or maybe months for his body to heal on its own." I walk around to the other side of the bed to get a better angle, while Araceli puts her hands on Gabriel’s head. Olivia hovers at the edge of the bedroom, and I wish she didn’t have to see this, but I know she won’t leave either. I can’t blame her. If it was my dad, I’d stay too.

  Gabriel’s wings have been shredded. There’s no other word for it. I’ve never seen anything so horrible before, and when I feel the darkness in the wounds, it’s obvious dark-infused weapons were used. Otherwise, Gabriel would be able to heal this himself in a few hours, as powerful as he is.

  I use my light to heal his bones first, mending them and making them whole, while drawing out the darkness. As the muscles and tendons stitch back together, I grab some rags and wash away some of the blood. It’s not just his wings that need healing, though. His collarbone was broken during the attack, and his shoulders also suffered damage. This is going to take hours to repair.

  Some time later, I sit down on the carpeted floor with my back against the side of the bed and take a long sip of water. My hands are covered in blood, and I’ve done what I can for now, but I need a break or I won’t be able to go on. There’s still so much to do though.

  “Are you all right?” Olivia asks, kneeling beside me.

  “Just tired. I’m not sure I have the strength to do it all tonight, but I’ll try.”

  Araceli places a hand on my head and frowns. “You’re tapped out, Marcus. You need a break. I can try to heal while you recover.”

  “It won’t be enough. Healing these kinds of wounds takes a lot of energy and life-force. Once the sun comes out it will be easier though. Especially if we bring in more healers to help.”

  “We can’t do that,” Liv says. “He didn’t even want me to get Araceli involved.”

  “It’s fine. Maybe you can get me something to eat. Or some coffee.”

  “T
hat won’t be enough,” Araceli says.

  “Can you give Marcus some energy?” Liv asks her.

  “No, it doesn’t really work like that. I’m sorry.”

  Liv bites her lip. “Maybe not, but… Hang on, I want to try something.”

  She sits on the carpet beside me and takes my hands, then leans close and kisses me softly. At first I’m surprised, but it’s impossible to resist Liv’s soft lips, and maybe we both need a little comforting after the rough night we’ve had.

  A rush of power flows through me, and I realize it’s coming from Olivia. From her kiss. Energy crackles in my veins like lightning, and it feels different from my own. Violent. Seductive. Powerful.

  It’s like chugging ten energy drinks at once. I sit up and look at Liv with awe. “What did you do?”

  “I’m not really sure. I felt like I was overflowing with Callan’s energy and had the strongest urge to try to pass some of it to you. I didn’t know if it would work. Did it?”

  “Yes.” Then her words register and my jaw falls open. “Callan’s energy?”

  “Is that who was here earlier?” Araceli asks, her eyebrows shooting up. “Damn, girl. I thought you hated each other.”

  She grimaces. “We do, but you should have seen Bastien tonight. I’m hurting him by feeding on him so much, and Marcus was next, so Callan stepped in to save them. He’s doing it for them more than me, I’m sure.”

  I don’t believe that’s true. Callan may pretend he doesn’t care about Olivia, but in his own, twisted way, he does. Otherwise he wouldn’t go out of his way to torment her, or to make sure she’s protected. Even when he bullied and betrayed her, in his mind he was doing it in her best interests.

  “Are you upset because I slept with him?” Liv asks.

  “No,” I say, and wipe the frown off my face. "I was just surprised.”

  And jealous.

  Shit.

  Why am I jealous? I can’t expect her to only sleep with me. She’s a succubus, after all. I knew this would happen when I got involved with her, and she’s never tried to hide it. I thought I would be fine with it, and I guess I was, for a while. But I’ve been struggling with this feeling ever since winter break, when she continued having sex with Bastien and not me. It felt like she chose him over me. Then she forgave him first, which made it hurt even more. Now she’s sleeping with Callan, who she claims to hate. Does she care about me at all?