“You like it when you’re touching me.” Her voice sounds part serious part humorous. “You love it.” She rolls her eyes again.
I erupt into laughter at her cute attitude, and confusion paints her face. Her nostrils flare.
“Reagan,” I say. “I’m sorry. Everything’s fine, baby.” I bury my face into her neck and kiss my way up to her ear. The boys and I can’t behave. We rumble like a horde of old lions. I must be gentler with Reagan, quieter. “Let’s go home.”
“Where is home, Gabriel?”
It hits me hard that I’ve got only a bedroom in the clubhouse. I didn’t need more, not until I met Reagan. I should buy a house with a nice garden. Yep, a nice human house in the suburbs with a nice human car in front of the garage. A big family car with three seats for my kids. Images fill my head. Three prams scattered in the front garden. Toys. State-of-the-art kitchen appliances. Holidays. Schools. Yep, I want all the shit.
“We’ll live in the clubhouse until I find something better.” I kiss her tit. “Let’s get you dressed.”
I crawl off the bed and slip into my jeans. With my cut on, I lean over Reagan and pull my t-shirt on her and then I wrap her form in a blanket. I pull her into my arms and she clings to me like her life depends on it. My wings appear from my back as the white feathers rustle. Reagan grabs one and folds it, sticking it under her nose. It must tickle because she sneezes.
“You like my wings?” I ask.
I want her to love them as much as I want her to love my cock.
“They shimmer,” she says.
“A bit.”
“Like the water in the stream when the sun’s rising.”
“Where is the stream, Reagan?”
She pulls my wing and plasters a few feathers to her face. That probably means I should stop asking her questions.
“Hold on to me,” I say.
Reagan buries her face in my neck and desire seizes me like a real fire. I grip the back of her head and tip her face up to mine. My mouth covers her. I devour her. She gasps and moans so I devour her even more ravenously.
My wings flap and we appear inside the bar.
My eyes meet Raphael’s. I’ve never seen him so pissed off. I’ve never seen him pissed off at all.
“Everyone except the club members out,” he rumbles.
The nymphs disperse in all directions, and I see Uriel cleaning the memories away from two human females’ heads. They exit the bar like wild animals are chasing them.
Right. I just broke the rules again.
I tighten my embrace around Reagan as the boys surround me.
“You’ve been away for a month,” Michael says. “You’ve been untraceable.”
“A month?” I say.
Raphael moves closer. “A month.” His furious eyes slide over Reagan. “What is it?”
“My wife,” I say.
“Your the fuck what?” Raphael roars.
“My wife,” I repeat.
Reagan sobs into my neck so I stroke her head to calm her.
“You’re scaring her,” I rumble. “Back the fuck up, you motherfuckers.”
“What is she?” Michael asks.
“A forest spirit?” I say.
Michael shakes his head. “That’s impossible. They’re not corporeal entities. And she looks like—“
“Like my wife,” I snap. “Move the fuck away from her, you all. She’s scared of your fucking ugly unshaven gobs.” I pull forward.
Raphael obstructs my way. “She’s doing something to time and space. Can’t you feel it? Put her on the floor.”
“The fuck what?” I growl. “Fuck off. I’m taking her upstairs.”
Raphael raises his hand.
“Don’t fucking touch her, brother,” I warn.
I spin with her body plastered to mine, but the boys form a tight wall of bodies around me. Reagan cries quietly.
“We need to stabilise the shit she’s doing,” Raphael says sharply.
I spread my wings. “Back the fuck up.”
They don’t move, just start humming incantations. Energy whips me like a gust of wind. I can’t move, immobilised by the powers of my brothers. Yeah, they can do this—four against one is enough. Reagan sighs and digs her fingers into my neck. I growl as a wave of warmth washes over me, taking away something from me. Something that should be taken away.
Raphael scratches his head. “Done.” He nods. “Very fucking weird.”
I hide my wings. “I’ll fucking break all your limbs if you do something like that again.”
The boys guffaw, and I drop onto the sofa, holding Reagan in my lap. I cup her face with both my hands.
“They won’t hurt you,” I say. I kiss her tears away from her flushed face. “They just wanted to help.” I sweep my eyes over the boys. “Right, motherfuckers?”
“Right,” they rumble.
Reagan clings to me, her arms squeezing my neck.
“You idiots,” I growl. “She’s scared of you. Be quiet.”
Cael kneels on one knee a step away from me, his amber eyes curious. “She’s really pretty.”
“How old is she?” Uriel asks. He threads his fingers through his short hair the colour of a raven’s wings as his blue eyes gleam. “Fourteen?” He looks at me like I’m a perv.
“She’s old enough,” I say. “Eighteen if you need to know.”
“You fucking that…?” Michael asks and grins, “that…” He shakes his head.
I have the impression that he wanted to say ‘kid’.
“None of your fucking business,” I say.
Cael smirks. “He looks like some fucking Romeo.” He nods, clearly having fun at my expense. “You’ve seen your eyes, Gabriel?”
“What’s wrong with my eyes?” I say.
The boys guffaw. No, they do rumble like a horde of old lions. An urge of murder courses through me.
Chapter 5
Gabriel
“Your eyes glitter like some fucking laser-green torches,” Uriel says. “You lover-boy.”
They probably do. I don’t give a fuck. Reagan’s safety and well-being are my only concerns.
“Take your wife upstairs and come to church,” Raphael interrupts.
“I’m not leaving Reagan,” I say.
The boys erupt into laughter.
Raphael puts his hand on the back of his neck and grins. “Fuck me.” He shakes his head and sweeps his hand in a gesture of resignation.
Reagan slides from my lap and shakes off the blanket. She stands two steps away from me and sweeps her eyes over the interior. My t-shirt looks like a big bag on her, but at least, it covers her tits and ass. A thought hits me hard. She’s so tiny compared to us. So dainty. I pull forward and grab her hand. I need to protect her at all costs.
“Reagan, sweetheart, we’re going upstairs,” I say. “Okay?”
She bobs her head. “Okay.”
Uriel shakes his head. “Fucking hell. Gabriel is out of the picture.”
“He is,” Raphael says. “Happens, I guess.”
I want to protest, but then I realise I don’t give a fuck. I need to guard Reagan day and night so that she won’t disappear again.
“I’m hungry,” Reagan whispers.
“You are hungry?” I stroke her head and joy fills my veins. “That’s great, baby.” I wrap my arms around her and let out a low growl. “Let’s feed you then.”
Michael grabs his own head in both his hands, but Cael looks like he’s happy for me.
“There’s lasagne in the oven,” Cael says. “And two bowls of salad in the fridge.”
I walk towards the kitchen and pull Reagan behind us as Cael follows us. My baby girl is curious—I can sense it from her. She slides her fingers against the wall and then against the doorframe, tasting every imperfection. As we enter the kitchen, I sit Reagan on the table and take two bowls out of the fridge. Cael takes a box of ice cream out of the freezer, opens it, and sticks it under her nose.
Reagan beams at him, and
I fucking want to smash his face and knock all his teeth out.
“Try it,” Cael says to her. “It’s really good.”
Reagan dips her finger into the ice cream and squeaks. “It’s cold.” She puts her finger into her mouth and her eyelashes flutter.
She tears the box away from Cael’s hand and crouches on the table, exposing her lush ass. I hear her devouring the ice cream like she’s a kitten.
Cael hisses and then nods at me several times. “Fucking hell.”
“Get out.”
He grins. “A really pretty ass.”
“Get out,” I growl.
He raises his hands in a warding gesture and backs up. I lean over Reagan and grip her waist, pulling her to the edge of the table. My hard dick forms a bulge in my jeans, and he threatens to rip the fabric apart.
“Reagan?”
She turns her face to me. Her mouth and chin are covered in the melting ice cream. A violent instinct takes possession of my mind, and I wind her hair around my fist, pulling her to me. She whimpers as I crush her lips with mine. I taste her chocolatey sweetness with fury and madness. My hand dives under her t-shirt, and I squeeze her breast. She cries out as I tumble her over so her back rests against the table. I part her folded legs with my hand and sink my face between her thighs. She smells like heaven. I run my tongue up her slit and then thrust it into her little cunt. She’s wet and hot for me. Ready for me. Delicious.
I lap my tongue over her clit and that causes her mouth to emit sweet moans.
The door of the kitchen creaks open. I straighten and see Michael sneak in and grin.
“What?” I growl.
“Just wanted to ask whether you want to swap the rooms. Mine is bigger. And since you’re married I thought you might need a bigger room.”
Reagan tries to sit up, but I pin her down with my hand and hold her legs spread for me.
“I’ll take your room,” I say. “Now, get out. I’m busy fucking my wife.”
He chuckles, takes a bottle of spring water out of the fridge, and exits the kitchen. I kiss Reagan’s inner thigh and then devour her dripping little pussy. My girl squirms and moans as I suck her clit and slap it with my tongue. Her moans crescendo, and I feel her come. I devour the abundance of her juices and open my trousers, grabbing my dick. I stroke myself then lean over her and grip the back of her head, pulling her towards my hips. I stroke myself harder. My muscles tense up. I drive my cock into Reagan’s hot mouth. I slide in and out. I slam my cock in as deep as it can go. She gags as her throat squeezes the head of my member, and I cum violently. Blackness obscures my vision.
I huff out and pull my dick out of Reagan’s mouth. Everything is so fucking intense with her. So mad. So good.
“You okay?” I stroke her head.
“Okay.” She flashes me a smile that melds my heart.
I know I’m behaving like a crude animal, but I can’t control myself when I’m with her. My mind is possessed by one thought—fuck Reagan.
“You should try the salads,” I say.
Reagan sighs and curls up into a ball.
“My baby girl is tired, huh?”
Her sigh answers me.
I scoop her up into my arms and carry her out of the kitchen. She drops off to sleep as I reach the bottom of the stairs.
A flutter goes through my chest. What if she disappears?
No fucking way. She’s the love of my life—the only woman I’ve ever loved. It’s so clear to me. I can’t breathe without her.
As I walk into Michael’s room, I see him finish changing the bedding.
“I’ll take my stuff later,” he says. “Let her sleep.”
I lay her on the king-sized bed made of wood and cover her with the purple comforter adorned with crystals. Michael pats my shoulder.
“Let’s go,” he says.
“I’m not leaving her.”
“She needs rest.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Can’t you feel it? She’s exhausted. Man, she’s a delicate little thing.”
“I need to be with her.”
“You need to tidy up the kitchen.” He slaps me on the back. “We need to talk.”
“I know, but—“
“Seriously.” He sweeps his eyes over Reagan. “We fixed that strange energy disturbance around her. Everything seems to be fine. Let her sleep. She needs a good rest. You’ve seen those dark circles under her eyes?”
He sounds sensible so I nod, and we exit the room. I reach the top of the stairs and uneasiness sits on my chest.
Michael stops. “Something is fucking wrong.” He turns around and rushes back to the bedroom.
I turn around and run back to the bedroom. I pass Michael, shoving him at the wall. As I tumble inside the bedroom, I see only the empty bed. Reagan is gone.
I sweep my arm and slam my fist on the wall. Blood gushes from the wounds on my fingers as the plastering cracks. Michael stands beside me.
“Where is she?” he growls, clearly taken aback.
“I don’t know.” Rage and helplessness blind me.
Chapter 6
Reagan
They dance around me like the flickers of candles in Gabriel’s bedroom. Each of them is a piece. Each of them looks the same. They’re cold unlike me.
“He said he loved me,” I say.
My stomach flutters as my heart beats faster, joyfully.
I touch my lips. They’re still stinging from his kisses. I love his kisses. I love being close to him, beneath him. His skin is so pleasantly hot to touch. His mouth is so demanding.
“He said I was his wife,” I say as pride surges through me.
They swish and hum. They don’t understand—they are not meant to understand. They’re meant to exist. To witness. They won’t respond, but I like talking to them anyway. I like talking in general. Sometimes talking is hard, but it’s fun.
The fog thickens around us.
I curl up into a ball, laying my head on the tree root that’s covered by moss, and I wait for him to find me again. He will find me. He will find a way for me to stay with him forever.
I was born eighteen years ago. I was waiting, floating, until he found me. Called out to me.
He’s my breath. He’s my heart. He’s my everything.
“He’s kissing me,” I hum. “And touching me. He makes me feel so real. So loved.” I yawn. “I love him so much.”
The fog is denser and colder than previously. It takes me farther and farther away from Gabriel.
He will find me.
Before the fog swallows me and causes me to cease to exist. She’s not evil. She just is.
She hasn’t noticed at first. But now, she knows and she’s yanking me back to her.
I’m blurry. I’m a bit not of me.
He will find me before there’s no me. I love being me so much. I love Gabriel more than anything.
It’s so cold that I escape into the realm of my hot thoughts about Gabriel. I delve in my fantasies. I’m running my fingers up and down his naked muscular chest. I’m memorising every rune on his naked back and every tattoo on his arm. His runes will shine silver when he’s happy. I’m rubbing my cheek against his unshaven one. My lips will search for his and it will be hot, wet, and wonderful. Like rain on a hot summer day.
I remember the smell of his skin and the wetness of our kisses, the heat in my tummy at the sight of his enormous stiff manhood. He is so beautiful. His eyes burn like the forest illuminated by a snap of lightning and his hair shines like dark soil steeped with rainwater.
He’ll find me; he’ll understand. He’ll stop threatening me. He’ll make me become his wife for eternity.
Gabriel
I drop into the chair as church begins.
“Talk to me,” Raphael says.
“I have no time for any chit-chat,” I growl. “I need to find my wife.”
“I’ll allocate Cael to help you,” Raphael says. “Just give me something, man.”
“She’s always drenched,” I say. “And cold
.” I sweep my eyes over the boys and they glance back, consternated. Or amused. “You don’t understand.” I slam my fist on the table and the clinking of our glasses follows. “She’ll be freezing cold. And alone. All alone.”
“Where did you find her?” Michael asks.
“Why the fuck do you need to know?” I snap. “Just help me find her.”
Raphael props his elbow on the table and rests his forehead against his palm. “Cael, help that biker-Romeo find the girl.” He straightens. “Michael, you’re gonna take over from Gabriel.” He juts his chin out towards me. “You, biker-Romeo, you find your little wife and produce five kids with red hair. That’s your job in this millennium.”
The boys erupt into laughter and it sounds like a few crashes of thunder have torn at the air.
“You don’t fucking understand anything,” I growl, my fists slamming on the table.
The top cracks along the edge as two glasses fall over and beer covers it.
I know I’ve broken all the rules and have disobeyed my president. I’ve been behaving like a lunatic. But they must understand. I need to find my wife. When she’s safe, I’ll face the punishment.
Raphael’s face turns into a rigid mask. “We understand very well. Angel love is to be respected, Gabriel, so we respect it.” He huffs out and grins. “You just need to go through that phase… He drops his head. “That phase…” His body shakes and he starts laughing.
“You’re the youngest of us all,” Michael says like he’s talking to a kid. “The most susceptible.” He laughs, his arm wrapped around his abdomen.
I feel like I’m some fucking monkey. “What’s so funny?”
“You’re the youngest,” Uriel says, “but you never pay attention when we try to teach you something.” He flashes me a wide grin. “We’re happy for you.”
“Like hell.” I thread my fingers through my hair.
“You’ve found your eternal love,” Michael says. “What happens when an angel finds their love?”
A thought wavers on the edge of my consciousness. It’s blurry, transparent. “They find happiness and freedom. The others support them.”
They all nod at me like I’m five.
They are happy for me in their fucked up way.
Cael stands beside me and lays his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s find your little wife.”
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