by Lexi Ostrow
“I do believe, that you are inquiring about the wrong thing. You should be asking, why are you here.” A malicious smile lifted her lips. “But, to be fair, I can answer your other question as well. I brought you. I’ve managed to amass quite a set of powers this past century, my friend. I have eradicated entire species, I have removed useless species from Hell, and I have consorted with Fallen Angels, drinking their blood at times. Because of that, my small powers have grown tremendously.”
A shiver of fear raced over Layel’s skin. He wasn’t oft afraid, but something about Seraphina took him back to the night she had fallen. She was not stable, not even after all that time. His heart broke for her. She had been consumed by remorse, and when she had fallen, it had gone terribly wrong. The woman before him was as magnificent as the day she was born. Only now, it wasn’t skin deep.
She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. The sensation rocked through his body. Sparks erupted all over his skin as their mouths touched. He wasn’t aroused, but he hadn’t expected a kiss to feel as such, certainly not from a Fallen. His mouth parted and her tongue entered. He was the one to explore her first, his tongue pushing against hers, urging the kiss to deepen. When he growled low in his throat, he hadn’t expected her to purr back at him. When she pulled back, there was a lazy grin on her face.
“I had wondered if you knew how to kiss, Layel. All these years, I’d wondered what it would be like if I could taste the Pure Angel that ruled them all.” She took a step backwards and ran her hands over the sheath of material that she wore as a dress. “That of course, has nothing to do with why you are here. I have just developed an appetite for sensual pleasures since Demetrious shunned me.”
He could still feel a tingle in his lips from their kiss. It angered him, he’d kissed but a few women, and even men in the past, and none had had such a profound effect on him. “Then why am I here?” he ground the words out, seeing sparks of white in his vision from pushing his teeth together so hard.
Her laughter reminded him of the gentle tinkling of bells. “Because I have a deal to make you. One that I think you’ll be inclined to accept.”
“I have no want of deals with you unless it involves reigning in your demons. I have lost Angels around the world, trying to stop the rampant attacks because you do govern them.”
She laughed once more. “Well then, I fear you will not like this at all, Layel. I want the Pure Angels to stand down. My fight lies with humanity, and while you all did nothing when Demetrious died, you are not my target, not for the moment.”
Layel wished his wings didn’t still feel as if they were on fire. He wanted to wring her neck. It would not take much, her guards were gone. She had made a foolish mistake. Only she had not, your wings are clipped, and she has far too much power. The thought rolled through him, and he growled low in his throat.
“I told you that you would find it unpleasant.”
She said it in a singsong voice, one he hadn’t heard since before her fall, one he missed because it held purity and innocence. It took a great deal of effort to extend what remained of his wings. Rising as quickly and swiftly as he could, he stared down at her.
“We will not stand down. You will not be allowed to destroy humanity. Should you succeed, it will not be due to lack of trying on our part.” His voice rumbled in the room, and he sounded much stronger than he felt.
With a hiss as feral as any feline, Seraphina raked her nails across his chest. Blood marred his flesh in angry red lines, and he paled. He wasn’t certain if she was going to lick the blood away, or if she was going to let it drip to the ground for any demon that entered to taste before it dried. His hands darted to his chest and pressed into the wounds. Focusing on the healing light, he felt it as the injury began to stitch itself shut, removing the danger.
Seraphina’s laughter was nothing short of maniacal, and he looked over at her.
“You’ve gone mad.”
She licked her tongue over her upper lip. “I’ve been mad, Layel. Have you ever wondered what it might be like to fall? How glorious giving into temptation feels?” she sneered and slapped her palm across his face. “It’s terrible! It is nothing, as it appears, not at first. You’re alone, you’re forced to fight off every demon that thinks they can have a piece of you because you’re weak in your reawakening.”
He watched a shudder passed over her. There was an overwhelming need to comfort her, as he did anyone in need. His hand was outstretched, reaching for her bare shoulder before he could stop himself. Luckily, Seraphina could. Her hand whipped out and grabbed hold of his. She tried her best to crush his fingers, but it was no use. However, she had enough of a grip that he couldn’t break free.
“Do not do this, Seraphina. Do not make me break this hold. Release me, turn your back on your plans and rule as Lucifer did. There can be no happiness in this. There can be no living in this.” His eyes searched hers for any semblance of the Angel she had once been. He didn’t find her.
She also didn’t loosen her hold. “Join me, Layel. We could unite demons. There is no need for this to end badly, no need for a species to be segregated by mere political nonsense.”
His free hand slammed into her face. He heard the crunch of bone and felt a small trickle of blood hit his knuckles. Whirling as fast as he could muster, he landed a kick to her abdomen that sent her backwards, crashing into the bone staircase. Layel winced with each step he took in her direction. She tried to stand, but he wrapped his hands around her neck. Instinctively, her hands began to claw at his. His body shook as he raised her off the floor, her legs dangled and tried to kick him, but failed.
“One squeeze, Seraphina. I could end it all. I could atone for everything I allowed to happen the night you cut your wings from your back.” He flexed his fingers around her neck, willing himself to apply the pressure and end it.
With a snarl, he released his hold and dropped her. He couldn’t kill her. He still felt too responsible for her actions, for her plight. Her death would only haunt him if it were by his hands.
“You can’t do it, you’re pathetic. That’s the real reason why you let Demetrious lead the battles. You don’t have the nerve to do what needs to be done.” She hadn’t moved off the floor, but she lifted her eyes to his and began to laugh.
Layel was trapped. He wanted desperately to help her, but he feared there was no help to be had. He wanted to kill her but knew that would only lead him to his own downward spiral. All he could do was run.
Focusing on that, and that alone, he waited for her to be done.
“You do not know the things I am capable of Seraphina. It would be best to kill me.”
Dismissively, she waved a hand. “I am not ready for that quite yet, Layel. That day will certainly come.”
.He knew what was coming as she stepped forwards and placed her hand gingerly over his. He could still hear Seraphina laughing as he collapsed onto the ground, not caring that daylight had broken.
Audrey couldn’t help but smile. Her entire world had shifted so drastically, almost overnight. Well, really in a single night. She’d been so alone in the world with her father always to sea, and she’d been dreaming of a husband for so long that, when she laid eyes upon Thomas Agardawes, she’d been smitten on the spot. His promotion had terrified her, so had their nuptials.
She’d spent her life growing up in a house where her mother had bedded strangers, and even stranger women had raised Audrey. They were constantly hiring and firing house staff. Her mother had been crazed near the end of her life. All the days of loneliness and fights with her workers had left her a shell of a woman, dying alone in her married bed.
That had been the only thing Audrey knew she did not want in a husband—what she’d been worried she was getting in her union to Thomas. She knew it would never be that way betwixt them again, knew that he had been honest with her the prior eve. Knowing that her mother’s fate was not to be her own had unleashed something in her that she had not known dwelled within. A passion
ate woman, who wanted to give her heart and soul to her husband.
Her fears of being left alone by her husband had been all but demolished further as he’d cherished her body, first with his hands, then his tongue and finally his manhood. There were no words for how she’d felt, for how she still felt as the buzz of lovemaking continued to tingle over her skin.
She brought the dainty Welsh teacup to her lips and sipped the slowly cooling liquid. She’d never drunk her tea outside before, but Thomas had had duties to attend, and she had wanted to see him off. Still, it was rather nice to stand outside in the early morning rays. The streets of London were quiet, serene even. She could see small puffs of smoke from some chimneys, but for the most part, London was still asleep.
Taking a deep breath through her nose, she closed her eyes and just stood in the warm glows of first light. Today is the beginning of a new life, Audrey. Thomas is a good man. He will be a good husband and father. Stretching the arm not holding the cup up into the air, she sighed happily.
“Life is going to be different for you Audrey, you will not be your mother.” She opened her eyes and smiled to no one at all.
Something moving a few meters away caught her eye. A chill raced over her, and, setting the cup down on the small wire table, she rubbed her hands over her arms. A flicker of white in the shadows piqued her curiosity further.
“Do not go chasing things in the dark, Audrey. It’s probably just a puss padding around after a mouse.”
As she reached for her cup again, a crash from down the road in the alley stopped her. She had been raised to not look into the shadows, to do nothing other than be a proper daughter and, one day, a wife. Yet, she wouldn’t be able to enjoy her day if she thought a poor animal was outside, or worse, a prowler.
Quickly, she pulled up the rose-colored fabric of her gown and slipped a leg over the iron balcony, grateful they were along the street line and not in a higher story. A small tearing noise made her cringe because she’d ruined her dress. It didn’t stop her, she tugged her other leg over and cautiously took off down the street.
It felt as if time had ceased to pass as she walked towards the end of the street, towards the corner where she had seen the flash of motion. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to look round the corner and gasped.
A man lay on the stones, strange white feathers sprouting from his back and blood splattered over his clothing, his very sparse clothing. His hair was longer, a light caramel color, and tangled. His body appeared to be shaking, and Audrey rubbed at her eyes, trying to be confident of the image she saw. If she had not known better, she would swear she was staring at an Angel.
“What?”
The man moved so quickly, she almost missed it. In fact, as she looked around, she realized he was nowhere to be seen, and she had no clue as to where he had gone. Had he even ever been there? Blinking, she shook her head and narrowed her eyes. There was nothing to indicate anyone had been there. Except a single, white feather.
Six
Layel growled as he slashed the already blood-soaked seraph blade through the sickly yellow-hued skin on a Thrasher Demon. It hissed, but Layel didn’t so much as flinch. Taking his spear, he threw it at the demon. In a smooth slice, the blade lopped the demons head off, and flew back into Layel’s waiting hand.
His whole body heaved as he sucked in breath after breath. His shoulders rose and fell rapidly, but tension shone through his stance. His eyes were narrowed and solid black as he turned to Izazal and Muriel.
“Go. See to your wounds. Seraphina will not likely take well to us killing her little squadron. We must be prepared for her next strike.”
“Layel, we all need to rest. The humans, they will just have to be okay on their own,” Muriel’s sophisticated tone sounded next to his ear.
It enraged him, and he turned, fangs bared at his warrior. “Do not speak to me on things I already know. We have spent weeks taking her forces apart. We can only hope that it worked, and she stands down for a time. She has been ruthless the past ten years, someone is going to run out—I don’t want it to be us. Question me again, and you will both be barred from the streets and replaced.”
“I didn’t bloody do anything,” Izazal snarled.
“Then keep your lover in check. Do not think I do not see the touches of grey in your wings, Izazal. Now leave me.”
Izazal and Muriel flashed out without another word, leaving Layel alone on the streets. Last time he’d been alone, almost a month prior, he’d been spotted in the early morning hours by a human woman. Tonight, he was going to seek one out.
Izazal’s feathers were shifting, mottling to grey. But he was not alone. Layel’s body had hummed for human interaction, human touch, since the moment the female had found him. Lust had ridden him hard, and he’d done something off kilter for him, he’d bedded an Incubus Demon. The passionate trance had been blessed. It hadn’t been the release he’d needed, though. His body was craving a human’s touch—male or female, it made no difference to him. But it had to be a human, he couldn’t fathom why, but his mind demanded it.
Whitechapel was not far, the women of the night were not far. His body bristled at the idea of bedding such a female, even as he flashed outside a brothel that Incubus Demons oft flocked to. His pulse quickened as his eyes landed on the painted face of a streetwalker, all trussed up and waiting. His prick pulsed with life behind his trousers, and he did not hesitate to walk up to the brothel. At one point in his life, before the mess with Seraphina, he would have.
“‘Ello there, services this eve?”
Her body was heavily perfumed, and Layel choked as he inhaled the strong smell. She was what he was looking for, though. Her eyes glittered in the flickering oil lamp, and his lip curved into as predatory grin as a Pure Angel could muster.
“I am indeed.”
A hand seductively slid up his chest, and his mood soured a little as realization struck home. He was likely going to fall after this, was it worth it? The whore’s hand trailed down the muscles of his body, and she purred as her fingers wrapped around his erect shaft.
“Well, I’m shocked to see ye can’t find a woman to bed. Yer all sortsa pretty.”
She squeezed his prick, and his body arched into her hand, even as he took a step.
“Nice and big too.”
An image of himself, wings as black as coal, flashed before his eyes, and he put his hand on her wrist, stopping her actions. “I have a different sort of request for you.”
A hardened look formed in her eyes, and she took a step back. “I don’t play no games, sir.”
Layel placed his hand on his breeches where hers had been and stroked himself, slow and hard. “This game can be fun. I want to watch you touch yourself, out here in the alley, while I touch myself.”
He felt a flare of his compulsion, and the woman nodded, though the way her hand had trailed over herself as she spoke indicated his compulsion had no bearing on the coupling.
Slipping a hand into hers, he tugged her around the corner of the building. The oil lamp flickered, ensuring her safety with its bright glow. He would have to compel her not to remember if she saw his wings, but he would not take a moment of pleasure away from her. Pleasure of any kind was a gift, and altering it would be cause to fall. While, moments before, he had not cared, his good sense had returned. He wasn’t ready to fall, but he needed release.
Undoing the buckle on his black breeches, he let them slide to the street, his rod jutting free. His eyes rolled backwards as his hand stroked the flesh of his prick. He heard her murmur across from him, and then a rustling of clothes as she lifted her skirts. He could feel the muscles in his neck begin to tighten as he continued to stroke himself. It hadn’t been long since he’d been buried inside a willing Angel, mere days, but his body was craving this release more than any other he’d ever indulged in.
Layel didn’t even mind that it was his scarred, rough hands, stroking himself to a release. His breathing was shallow as he stroked,
tweaked and tugged on his prick. Every touch sent waves of bliss through him. There was no shame in him as he thrust his hips and reveled in the sensation of skin against skin, his body stretching for a release.
Her moan sent a groan rocking through him. His eyes opened, and he watched as her hand moved back and forth, he could picture her fingers sliding in and out of her wetness, and his strokes sped up. He’d never been one for self-gratification, but listening to the woman please herself was stimulating.
“This is—” her voice broke off into rapid pants.
Layel’s hips were bucking so fast into his tight grip that he was amazed he hadn’t lost his balance. Over and over, he squeezed himself as his other hand reached betwixt his legs and massaged his balls. The added sensation sent him over the edge. His balls tightened up against him, and he felt his seed spurt over the tip of his prick. His groan was loud, animalistic even. Her shout was as guttural as his, and, even though he had not touched her, he was pleased she’d enjoyed their strange encounter.
Panting hard, he released his prick and tore his shirt and sword off, before she could see the later. His wings unfurled, and he did nothing to stop the woman from seeing those. He grabbed hold of a newly regrown wingtip. With a sigh, he let it go as well. His feathers were still white. No streaks of grey rippled through them, self-release with a human had not been a sin.
Her eyes were open, a lusty haze in them, but open.
“You will not remember anything more than the encounter itself.” He pulled his trousers off the ground and secured the buckle as he dug in the pocket for coin. “This is your fee.” In truth, Layel had no clue what the currency was for a torrid night with a streetwalker, but he assumed it would do.
She blinked and wrapped her hands around the coin, not saying anything about his wings as he curled them close to his body and pulled his shirt on over his head. With a nod, he flashed to Royal London, his body had released, but his mind still needed to assure that the threat of demons was gone, for the time being.
