Edge of Heaven

by Rhiannon Leith

  “Oh God,” she exclaimed as he filled her. “Sam, please. Oh God.”

  Taking hold of her hips, he pushed her down, forcing himself deeper, and she gave another stuttering cry. Sam kissed her, claiming her mouth with a searing kiss which she returned with matching passion. Quick, sudden bursts of pleasure, timed with the flex of his supple hips, enveloped her. She leaned back, her head and shoulders supported by the sofa. Sam dipped his head so he could tongue her breasts again, nipping the flesh, sucking hard as she met his thrusts.

  His hands filled themselves with the globes of her ass, his fingers teasing the delicate area between them, and she could stand it no longer. With a moment of blind panic, her body slammed down on him, the walls of her vagina clamping around him. Sam’s face went rigid and then his orgasm was upon him. His grip turned possessive, holding her against him while his body poured itself into her. Lily cried out his name, coming again so fast and hard that she lost all sense of the world beyond them. All that mattered was Sam and the wondrous things he did to her. All that mattered was Sam, buried deep inside her, coming so hard that his body glistened and the muscles beneath turned to stone.

  Afterwards, Sam kissed her forehead, her nose, her chin. He fluttered light kisses over her lips and then he lifted her, his cock still nestled deep inside. It didn’t seem possible, but he held her as if she was weightless and carried her into her bedroom, let her down onto the bed and thrust into her again. As she lay beneath him, slowly, so very slowly, he began to make love to her once more. And Lily’s body began to respond, all over again.

  Chapter Five

  Sam lay awake listening to Lily’s deep and even breathing. A magical sound, a mixture of exhaustion and total satiation, he could listen to it for hours, until the urge took him again. With other lovers, he would wake them, yet for some reason with Lily he just listened. Contentment never came easy to him, but this was close. This was perilously close.

  He stroked the silken skin where her back curved, feeling the vertebrae through it, marvelling at the texture. Her hair spilled across the pillow like strands of polished copper, such an unusual colour, captivating. Had it been so long since he had lain with a woman? Time was relative to all demons, but it felt like an eternity since a simple seduction had felt like this, had brought him this much pleasure.

  Lily had matched him stroke for stroke, desire for desire. She was voracious, and inventive, and revelled in her pleasure. She was magnificent.

  Asleep, she looked so childlike, though her body belied that impression instantly. Sam couldn’t believe he was doing this, lying here with her, thinking the way he was. The rage Micah had drawn from him earlier had evaporated when he thought she was in danger. For a moment every instinct had told him to tear his way through the wall to reach her, but some shred of sanity remained and he had raced for her door.

  “Is she sleeping?” Micah asked hesitantly.

  Sam narrowed his eyes, looking into the corner of the room where a flickering light grew. Lily wouldn’t be able to see it, but he knew at once her guardian was back.

  “I should thank you, Mike,” Sam said. “I thought you wanted me to stay away from her, but then you throw her into my arms.”

  “She needed you.”

  He couldn’t hide the laconic tone of his triumph. “She got me.”

  “You said I’d hurt her. I can’t think even you expected it to happen so soon.” Micah sounded desolate, lost.

  Sam smiled. Yes, it was cruel, but then, he was a demon and cruelty could be a pleasure as well. “I can’t say I did. But thank you for being so prompt.” He glanced down at his sleeping lover. A frown ghosted its way across her face, just for a moment. When he stroked her cheek with his hand, it vanished. But he couldn’t deny what he had seen. “What did she dream?”

  “A murder.”

  “Whose?”

  “I don’t know yet. But we’ll find out. That spirit won’t rest until she sends it into the light. It needs her.”

  Wandering spirits were never good news, neither for Heaven nor Hell. People like Lily were special because they could direct them, above or below as they saw fit. They were rare beings, created for a purpose, closer to angels than even the angels would admit, designed by the Creator for an express purpose. Lily was special. He sighed; Lily was special for a hell of a lot more.

  “Sammael, when you’re near her you block the other spirits, don’t you?” Sam nodded slowly, wondering where this was going. “You have to stop doing that. It’s like damning a river without giving it any means of draining off an excess. Eventually the energy will grow so strong it will burst through that block and overwhelm her. Like tonight. The dream was so powerful, so terrifying that it was real to her. She died in that dream, drowned by a madman. Do you understand? If you care about her.”

  Care about her? Since when did Micah imagine demons cared about anyone?

  Since when did a demon allow himself to care?

  A low growl rolled up through his chest and Lily stirred. He forced himself to stillness, glaring at the place where he sensed his adversary.

  “Why put her through it, if I can drive them off and give her some peace?”

  “Because I tried once and she had a breakdown. Please, Sammael, that would avail you naught. You have to let her visions continue.”

  Sure, it was his fault. That figured. The angel would say that.

  Problem was, the angel was right. A breakdown and subsequent medication and treatment would only hinder his mission.

  “All right, I’m listening. What are you proposing?”

  “A truce.”

  Sam laughed out loud. He couldn’t help himself. Lily squirmed against him and he forced himself to be quiet again. “A truce? Are you insane?”

  “It’s the only way.”

  “I’m not giving her up, Mike,” he hissed. “I will not stop. It isn’t in my nature. I live to seduce, to pleasure a woman like her. Why can’t you get that through your thick head?”

  Lily stirred again. This time, she woke. “Sam?” She lifted her head and looking at him with heavy eyes. “You all right?”

  Sam pushed thoughts of Micah from his mind. “’Course I am, sweetheart. Shh, go back to sleep.”

  But Lily rubbed against him, like a cat demanding attention. She all but purred. “Not sleepy,” she lied.

  His smile tugged at his mouth and he cupped her shoulder briefly before moving down to her breasts. They filled his hands as if they had been created for his attentions.

  “Not sleepy, eh?” he teased, and she shook her head, her hair tumbling into her face. She pushed at it ineffectually, so he laid her back on the pillows and did the job himself. While he was up there, he nudged his way between her long, shapely legs and felt them rise to wrap about his waist, drawing him into her again. Her scent enfolded him, sweet and musky, the perfect enticement.

  Sam’s smile broadened. “Lily, I’m starting to think you’re insatiable.”

  “I could say the same about you.” She grinned up at him, more awake now, her hand closing on his erect cock to guide him to her.

  She sheathed him, warm, wet and welcoming. Her inner muscles gripped him, rippling down his length. Damn it, she didn’t even have to move and he would come for her.

  Light dappled the wall above his head, reflected light, bouncing off the mirror and between it, flickering shadows. Micah was still here. He was watching them.

  This time, Sam’s smile turned truly demonic.

  “Do you want me, Lily?” He circled his hips, rolling his cock deep inside her.

  “Yes,” she gasped.

  He fixed her with his most domineering glare. “Tell me.”

  “I want you, Sam.”

  “Are you listening, you holier than thou bastard?” He got no response to his sending, but the light that only he could see didn’t dim. “Still here, you angelic peeping Tom? You like to watch, do you? Well, watch this.”

  “Reach down, Lily. Make yourself come for me. Now.�
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  She slid her hand between their bodies, finding her clitoris with the unerring accuracy of womankind. With the centre of her pleasure already slick from his penetration, she began to stimulate herself, holding him deep inside her. She gazed up into his shadowed face and smiled for an instant before her features took on that studied intensity that meant she was succeeding in her task.

  Sam’s arms trembled as her knuckles brushed the base of his cock and his body coiled, ready for release. The weight in his balls was incredible, a familiar but always revelatory sensation. Her muscles closed on him, gripping him, and he stayed as still as stone.

  Lily’s breath came in a burst and a low moan rippled up from deep inside her, originating where they joined and rising to his ears like a song of salvation.

  “That’s it, sweetheart,” he said. “That’s it. Now, come for me, Lily.”

  She cried out and her body slammed into his, her vagina squeezing him hard so that he couldn’t have held back if he wanted to. With a cry of triumph, Sam’s body convulsed and she milked him, her muscles undulating all around him, holding him without hope of escape. He collapsed on top of her, pinning her hand between them, shocked by the severity of his reaction to her.

  For a moment he wondered if he was still breathing, if she had ground all his immortal life out of him. Beneath him, Lily was laughing, running her free hand through his hair. She kissed him savagely and rolled him onto his back so she could nestle against him, still kissing him, still gripping him deep inside those velvet walls.

  “Weren’t you expecting that?” She giggled, nipping at his lower lip.

  He didn’t answer her. He couldn’t. The light was gone. Micah had departed. At least he had that, Sam thought. One small victory. And now it felt ridiculously small.

  Lily nuzzled into his neck, and Sam stroked her supine body, distracted. Not for the first time since he had arrived, he had to wonder, who was seducing whom?

  Micah could think of no choir of angels as beautiful as the sound of Lily singing quietly to herself in the grey light of early morning. She brightened the day, called the sun to rise and filled his insubstantial body with such light that he thought he would ascend back to Heaven without a divine summons.

  Perhaps this was part of the reason he was stuck here, with her. Unlike the Nameless and his demons, the Creator gave no guidance to those he sent to the earth. He relied on them to know, to intuit their path, and to act accordingly. But Micah had never felt so lost.

  Like a ghost hovering on the edge of her world, he lingered by her because he couldn’t leave. Even though he knew she wanted—no, needed—Sam, even though she called for him the moment she left the demon dozing in her bed, Micah didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say.

  Lily busied herself in the kitchen, flicking on the TV for noise and singing along with the commercials and jingles while she opened the orange juice and cooked pancakes. She had always loved pancakes, a comfort from her childhood, she claimed. Of course by the time Micah had appeared in her life that childhood was well and truly gone. Her parents were terrified about the changes in their beautiful little girl, when she transformed into an unstable, moody, angst-ridden young woman. Pancakes were the last thing on their minds then.

  Standing there now, controlling the light that emanated from his body in a beam of sunshine, Micah watched her. No matter how much harm Sam would eventually do—and the demon would do harm, there was no avoiding that—the pleasure Micah felt looking at her now made his heart lurch inside him.

  Lily sipped her glass of orange juice. It made her lips glisten for a moment, before her tongue licked it away.

  Remembering what he had seen last night, Micah groaned, trying to push other, more intimate images from his mind.

  “The top story again,” said the cheesy voice of the newscaster on the TV. “A gruesome find down by the docks this morning has authorities baffled. More about that after this break.”

  The morning news jingle floated through the air, and Sam appeared in the doorway from the bedroom.

  “Have I died and gone to Heaven?” he asked with a smirk directed towards Micah’s hiding place. “What is that smell, sweetheart?”

  “Coffee, juice and pancakes.” She didn’t turn away from the TV. She gripped the spatula in her hand like a weapon, staring at the adverts. Her other hand, holding the glass, began to tremble; minute vibrations ran down her arm and made the juice slosh against the sides. Just a little. Just enough for them to notice.

  A chill passed through Micah’s body and he moved towards her. Sam beat him to it. As always.

  The demon slid an arm around her shoulder. Lily leaned into his strong embrace, but said nothing.

  A wall of air rose around Micah, keeping him from her. Sammael’s doing, no doubt. No doubt at all given the look the demon turned his way.

  “Sammael, something’s wrong with her. Can’t you sense it?”

  Sammael just grunted and nuzzled the curve of her neck, his lips teasing the sensitive skin there. But Lily said nothing, gave no response, much to Sammael’s chagrin. She didn’t even move.

  The sense of nervous anticipation swelled. Micah tried to force his way closer, but Sammael flicked his eyes towards him and the barrier became even stronger.

  Micah pushed, trying to force his way through, and saw Sammael’s arrogant smirk. He’d won. They both knew it. He was stronger and every intimacy with her just increased his powers. It was only a matter of time before he would be able to make her do whatever he asked. And then she would be his forever.

  Anger exploded inside Micah and he raised his fists, ready to fight his way through, preparing to call on light and love to aid him. He was stronger than a demon. Always had been, though he chose never to use such power. But this time, this time he would.

  Lily drew in a breath and the air turned icy cold. Micah stilled, staring at the dawning horror on her face. It came just seconds before the TV picture changed, showing the dockside, several cops and a large swathe of yellow crime scene tape. The reporter stepped into shot, a young woman, perfectly turned out, with a tightness in her face.

  “The scene here this morning is grim. While the body retrieved from the water is as yet officially unidentified, it would appear that the killer who calls himself the Witchfinder has indeed struck again. Still missing, Rachel Deveral and now her associate Todd Lane. Both known psychics, with something of a celebrity following.” Images flashed up of a dark-haired woman and a younger man. Micah recognised the woman, had been with Lily when she worked with Rachel, had listened to her talking to Todd on the phone. Rachel was her friend, or the closest thing she had to a friend. She’d understood Lily in a way few others could. And Todd had followed her leads, leads he hadn’t shared with the police.

  “Sammael,” he tried, more urgently, “Sammael, this is bad. This is really bad.”

  But Sammael wasn’t paying any attention to him now. All his attention was fixed on Lily.

  “Rachel,” Lily breathed. “It’s Rachel.”

  “Who?” Sam asked, running his fingertips down her spine. She didn’t react. She looked like she was rooted to the spot.

  “It’s Rachel.” Her voice was thin and drained. “He killed her. He murdered her, Micah!”

  “Shh.” Sam’s breath stirred the sensitive hairs at the edge of her hairline. “It was just a dream, sweetheart.”

  The glass slipped from her hand, crashing to the floor where it shattered. Juice and shards of glass flew everywhere. Sam swore, jumping back, curses falling from his lips as he danced away from harm.

  But Lily just stood there. The trembling started in her legs. Her sob was a bark of pain and grief. She wrapped her thin arms around her chest, digging her fingers into her arms.

  “Lily?” Sam called, trying to reach out for her, trying to stop her before—

  She stepped forward, straight onto the glass, but she didn’t stop, didn’t even cry out.

  “Lily, stop!” Sam shouted over the dreadful cr
unch of the glass. The volume of the TV lurched up to deafening levels.

  “Bound and gagged, then drowned,” boomed the reporter. “The pattern is identical to the murder of Claire Redgrave three weeks ago.”

  “Lily, you have to stop!”

  “Rachel Deveral was abducted from her home on the evening of the twenty-ninth, after she returned home from her successful afternoon chat-show spot.”

  Sam dived for the cable and wrenched the plug out of the wall. The sound died abruptly and in the moments of silence, Lily gasped for air, her mouth working to form words she couldn’t quite bring out.

  She bent in two, clutching her middle, and she screamed. A heartbreaking sound.

  Micah threw himself against the barrier, but it repelled him yet again. “Lily! Damn it, Sammael, let me out of here. Let me out! She needs me.”

  And at the same time, Lily’s howl became coherent, became a single word. “Micah!” Light burst within his chest like fireworks.

  And the walls of air tumbled down.

  Micah caught her as she fell and lowered her to the ground, quelling the convulsions that racked her. He smoothed his hand across her forehead, poured his light into her body and fought to calm her, fought to bring her back.

  “Get something for her cuts,” Micah snarled at Sam. The demon didn’t argue for once. The first-aid kit appeared in his hands in a curl of shadows.

  “Here. What is it? What’s wrong?”

  But Micah didn’t deign to answer Sammael. He was focused entirely on Lily.

  “It’s me, Lily. I’m here. It’s going to be all right. Can you hear me?”

  She struggled briefly and then fell still, her dove grey eyes fixed and glassy, staring past him, right at the ceiling.

  “He took her in the night, right from under her family’s nose. He locked her away in the darkness and he tested her. Summis Desiderates, Malleus Maleficarum, the Hexenhammer. He wouldn’t let her sleep, wouldn’t let her eat, wouldn’t let her sit, but he asked her over and over and over.” Her voice dropped to a low, gravely rasp, scraping off her throat. “Are you a Witch? Are you a Witch? Confess it and be spared. Confess it and be saved.” Lily gasped for air, her face distended and bloodless, like a corpse, like a drowned corpse left in the water.