by A. J. Norris
Evie reached for the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. She traced the outline of his feather tattoo with a fingernail. He quivered, took her hand, and kissed the knuckles. Angels pledged their unyielding surrender to their females during their mating rituals. A vow Virgil hadn’t forgotten about, although he’d lost his way. He was most certain he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for lying with other females. He looked down. “I’m sorry. I—”
She put a finger up to his lips. “Shhh. You have nothing to be sorry about.”
“Yes. I didn’t remain true while you were—”
“I know. Dahlia.”
“It wasn’t only her.”
She took his face in her hands and pressed a kiss to his brow. “It’s okay. I’d possibly feel differently if I had my memories. Be grateful I don’t.”
“I am.”
“Then no more nonsense about me getting them back. I don’t want them. It would only cause us misery.”
“I’m done worrying about it,” he said, taking her hands in his. She pulled him onto the bed. They scooted toward the pillows, stopping before making it all the way. Virgil settled between her thighs.
***
Evita
Evita loved the weight of him, sinking her into the mattress. His eyes stayed on hers, even when he kissed her.
“Have you been keeping your eyes open the whole time we’ve been kissing?”
Her cheeks heated and she smiled.
“I think you’re beautiful and I didn’t want to stop staring.”
“I know you do, that’s why I’m smiling. But that’s enough talk. Kiss me like you mean it.”
“What?” he asked with mock incredulity. “I always mean it.”
“Oh yeah? You wanna prove it?”
His smiled faded as he zeroed in on her mouth. He dipped his head down. The moment their lips met, a swell of emotions swept over her. Virgil had brought her back from Hell. Literally. She didn’t feel she owed him anything, yet she wanted to give him everything. However, the only thing she could offer was her love.
“Virgil…”
“Yes, my love?” he said, kissing her neck.
Saying ‘I love you’ sat at the back of her throat, ready to come out. The expectation for those three words hung in the air. She wanted to say them, but the future was uncertain with a demon after her. Wouldn’t telling him how she felt make things harder if she disappeared again?
“Make love to me.”
Virgil pulled at the skirting of her dress until her panties were the only thing between his hand and her sex. Heat gathered in her core as he undid his pants and worked them down his thighs. The sight of his engorged shaft turned her on more than she thought possible. Evita gasped involuntarily, the anticipation tortured her. She removed her soaked undergarment and tossed them aside. He pushed inside her effortlessly with his hard length.
“Oh Deus,” she breathed, grabbing his butt, grinding herself against him. She couldn’t get enough, wanted more. “Harder.” A brief smile washed over his face. She wondered why. But then he thrust deeply and she cried out, “More!”
He weaved his hands through her feathers until he found the mattress. With his torso propped, Virgil gave her what she asked for; deeper, harder, more. How brilliant was this male? How talented? Dahlia would never have him again. Evita felt sorry for her. Almost. Okay, not at all. She loathed the Warrior. Despised her.
It was funny how, despite spending two centuries in Netherworld, Evita easily learned to live again. She’d witnessed many angels return from there and never regain who they once were. The spark in their eyes gone forever.
Virgil sucked in air between his teeth. His face scrunched up into the ugliest, most beautiful expression of ecstasy. She smiled at him. He kissed the thumb she pressed to his lips. Her toes curled and she arched her back. A tongue flicked over her nipple then the other. “Virgil!”
He lifted his head and grinned because he knew that got her attention. Abruptly he pulled out and motioned for her to turn around. Flipping over took precision to not whack him in the head with her wings. Good thing angels knew exactly where their feathery appendages ended. Once she was on her stomach she parted them, making room for Virgil. He grasped her waist, and positioned her on her hands and knees.
“Oh Deus,” she whimpered when he thrust into her. This position put him deeper inside. She loved it and groaned in appreciation with each stroke.
His hands curled tighter around her hip bones the faster he went. “Oh! Ohhh!” he groaned loudly. Virgil shouted her name as his orgasm released.
Evita’s heartbeat quickened and her pulse raced as her body and mind blissed out. She roared his name in pleasure. They both panted and gasped for breath. He rubbed her bottom in circles, thanking her for the gift she had bestowed upon him.
He laid out beside her and she draped herself over him. They didn’t move or speak for a while. She lifted her head, checking to see if he was still awake. He was, although not for long; his eyes were closed.
“Don’t do it again,” she said.
“Hmm?” he asked, opening one eye.
“If I go missing again, you better wait for me.”
Virgil snorted.
“I’m serious. You better.”
“I know you are. But please don’t talk like that. You’re not going missing.”
She wished she could be sure of that. “I could.”
“You’re not. I won’t allow it.” He held her closer to his chest.
“Okay, but you may not have that choice is all I’m saying.”
He dragged a palm down his face and groaned, “Ehhh, Evie…please.”
“I really know how to ruin a mood, huh?”
He didn’t respond, only sighed.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT
Hazel
The sign in the waiting room read, ‘At your appointment time, please push the button below’.
Hazel had called Dr. Kaya Sato after many nights of horror filled dreams and restless sleep. More troubling than the lack of sleep was that she couldn’t get enough of the visions. Every night she wore the amulet to bed hoping for another glimpse of Abaddon. During the hours at work, she fantasized about the beast, who turned out to be a handsome man. Even his horns were sexy. However, the combination of goat-legged demons, bizarre animal headed creatures, and constant screaming of Netherworld had become psychological torture. She couldn’t sleep and couldn’t remember the last time she ate an actual meal.
Hazel inwardly groaned and pushed the button. Despite her apprehension, she needed relief. She had vowed she’d never step inside the shrink’s office again. The last visit the doctor told her mother she was suffering from brief reactive psychosis. Genevieve believed her daughter was crazy too.
The door creaked open and the tiny Asian woman, her grandmother’s age, appeared smiling. “Please come in, Hazel. It’s nice to see you again.”
“Thank you.” Hazel wasn’t sure about that. Yet. Dr. Sato took a seat behind her enormous desk and she parked herself on one of the burgundy leather chairs across from the older lady.
The doctor clasped her hands on the ink blotter. “What brings you here today? You didn’t say much on the phone.”
Hazel took a deep breath. “Well, you were right.”
Dr. Sato’s brows knitted together. “About?”
“I’m not sure how to explain this or—this is strictly in confidence, right?”
“Of course, I must apologize for speaking with your mother before…”
Hazel waved her off. “I have experienced a traumatic event that I don’t like to talk about and don’t want my mother knowing about because she worries.”
“I see. Do you care to elaborate? You are safe here.”
“I know and thank you. I feel safe.” Hazel squeezed her eyes shut.
“Is something the matter?” the doctor asked.
“No. This is just difficult to talk about. I’ve been having trouble slee
ping.”
“Do you have difficulty falling asleep or do you wake up—”
“Yes. I’ve been having bad dreams…I can’t put the images out of my head.”
And some I don’t want to.
Dr. Sato grabbed a ballpoint from a pewter pen holder on the desk and took a notepad from the drawer. “What type of images?”
“Well, scary.”
“What is frightening about them?” Dr. Sato asked while jotting down a note.
“Something is after me.”
“Uh huh. This thing, is it chasing you?”
“It’s not a thing but a what. And I didn’t say it was chasing me.”
“Okay.” She put her pen down. “Then please explain it to me.”
Hazel tucked her hair behind her ear several times. “I’m a threat to it, or so it thinks.”
“If it’s a what, how does it think?”
Hazel rose from the chair and stood in front the built-in mahogany bookcases framing the door. Hundreds of books lined the shelves except for one with a collection of angel figurines. She took a closer look. She swallowed hard. “Did you get another angel? Is this one new?” she asked, holding up the small sculpture.
“Yes. I found that one at an antique market the other day. Do you like it?”
“Um, where did you say you got it?” Hazel closed her eyes and shook her head. “No. It’s not.” She studied the male angel statue again. Yes, it was Abaddon. Her chest tightened. The floor tilted.
“It’s not what—are you all right?” Dr. Sato asked, rushing to her side.
Hazel caught herself from listing and leaned on the bookcase, rattling the glass angels.
“Why don’t you sit down?” Dr. Sato suggested.
Hazel nodded and sat on the floor.
“I meant on the chair, but the floor’s fine. Do you mind if I have a seat with you?”
“No,” Hazel said without looking at the woman. “I’m all right. I don’t need a doctor or anything…”
“Well let me know if you feel like you’re going to pass out.” She smiled warmly, unlike Hazel’s own grandmother. “Did you see something when you looked at the angel?”
“Uh huh.” Her stomach fluttered.
“Tell me what you saw when you said, ‘No, it’s not’.”
“I thought I saw the man from my nightmares.”
“This angel frightened you?”
“He’s not an angel in my dreams. He’s a demon.”
Dr. Sato patted Hazel’s arm. “No wonder you’re frightened.”
I’m not scared of him…
There wasn’t any sense in trying to explain that the demon wasn’t what scared her. The woman wouldn’t get it anyway. Hazel nodded.
“When was the last time you slept through the night?”
“A while.”
“Would you say that’s a couple of days? A week?”
“Week,” Hazel squeaked, afraid the doctor knew she’d lied.
Dr. Sato stood. “Come,” she held out her hand to Hazel. “Your lack of rest concerns me. I want to see you next week. In the meantime, I’m prescribing something to help you relax.”
“Pills?”
“Just 10mg of diazepam.” The doctor scribbled on a prescription pad and tore off a sheet. “Don’t take more than two a day and never drink alcohol while taking it.”
Hazel took the paper from her. “What happens if I drink alcohol?”
“Alcohol intensifies the effects of both.”
“Oh, so drinking’s bad. Could I die?”
Dr. Sato set her lips in a thin line. “Potentially. Why do you ask?”
Hazel shrugged. “I wanted to know what I was taking is all. That’s fine. I don’t drink much anyway.”
Dr. Sato smiled. “Good.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-NINE
Dahlia
Are you kidding me right now?
Everything was in place. She’d convinced the all too innocent and trusting Seraphina to meet her outside Eternity. She’d told her Evita was sleeping inside the angel hangout. Dahlia asked her to get a note to their sister and to be discreet. She had no doubt Seraphina would comply.
Dahlia waited on top of the building all night and into the morning. Why should she be surprised Berus hadn’t shown up? The demon couldn’t read and who the hell knew if he even relayed the address to the ES she’d given him? He was probably having sex with that human waste of life right now. She couldn’t blame the girl, Aba had made Berus hot as Netherworld.
She took out the feather she had stolen from his jacket and held it under her nose. The thing smelled of male angel. What was a demon doing with an angel feather? And why had he been so protective of it? The demon was a native of Netherworld. As far as she knew, they didn’t have the capacity to care about angels or much of anything other than existing and doing what they were told.
Berus, that bastard, was different. Smart. Incredibly smart. Aba had underestimated him.
A strong breeze ruffled her feathers, three plumes swirled up and fluttered to the rooftop. Another wind tossed them further away from her. Her wings were in the process of browning. Sections of the feathers appeared tarnished and others a burnt sienna, bronze, or copper color—no longer gold. The bald patch had increased in size.
Dahlia paced while talking out loud to herself. “Just wait…Evita will get the note…everything will work…”
If Berus didn’t want to cooperate, she would just have to go tell him the plan was all. No worries. She meditated on the demon and was whisked away through nothingness.
Berus wasn’t banging the human like she thought. The familiar cramped bathroom she found him in brought back memories of Virgil and what he’d done to her in the shower, up against the door, and bent over the sink vanity.
The shower curtain holders screeched as she yanked the curtain over. He slowly turned, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. Incredible. The demon took more showers than she did.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He made that stupid humming noise again before speaking. “Hmmm, w-what does it look like?”
“Doing your hair. What’s next, painting your nails?”
Berus looked at his fingernails. Dahlia rolled her eyes. “I need you to do something for me, then I’ll deliver the angel and the amulet.”
He cranked the water off. “Why sh-sh-should I trust you?”
“You want to go home, don’t you?”
He inhaled deeply, groaning on the exhale. “What do you want?” he said through clenched teeth.
Her eyes traveled to his cock as he stepped out of the shower. She sucked in air.
“What?!” he barked.
She flinched and her eyes flared. “Does the ES have a car? Never mind. Steal one if you have to and wait for me at the natural portal in the woods. Do you know where that is?”
He gritted his teeth.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said. “And put some damn clothes on.” Dahlia stomped out of the teeny bathroom, brushing a wing across his chest. Her sensitive nerve endings tingled with excitement. She hadn’t had sex since Virgil. However, the thrill only lasted until she saw the human lounging on the bed in the nude.
“You again?” the woman sneered.
“Enjoy what little time you have left.” Dahlia left Elliott and Amalya’s bedroom. She slammed the door.
***
Evita
Evita heard footsteps outside the bedroom where she and Virgil had taken rest. He was still asleep, so before the person knocked, she opened the door. Seraphina handed her a plain white envelope.
“What’s this?” Evita whispered.
Seraphina smiled and shrugged.
“Who’s it from?”
“Our sister.”
“Which one of our sisters?” Evita asked, already knowing the answer and dreading it. Seraphina had the kind of innocence most angels had lost over the ages, and Evita found herself unable to hate her for it. “Never mind. Than
k you.”
Seraphina bowed her head and retreated. Evita scanned the hallway before closing the door. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the envelope. She opened the letter, and immediately recognized the handwriting.
‘Face me alone or Abaddon gets the amulet. P.S. Virgil is mine.’
Dahlia.
Both ‘I’s’ in Virgil were dotted with tiny hearts. She gripped the paper tightly in her fists. Was this a joke? She flipped the paper over. Nothing was written on the back. She sniffed the note; it smelled like her Warrior sister. Her first thought was the invitation may be a bluff. How could the amulet they lost just so happened to have been found by Dahlia? Of course, she could hardly believe they lost it in the first place, dropped from no less than thirty thousand feet. Evita let the rumpled piece of paper go and it drifted under the bed. A good part of her wanted to ignore the angel, however, she wanted Dahlia out of her life, not chasing her and Virgil forever. There was more than a good chance she had been poisoned by Abaddon. If only Evita could get a red flamed blade into Dahlia’s flesh, she would be lost forever, her energy dissipated into the Earth’s atmosphere. Evita’s thoughts had not turned toward revenge, but of defending what was right. Amulets must be kept from Abaddon.
She glanced over her shoulder at her sleeping male. He’d passed out on his stomach, using his wings as a blanket. She smiled and prayed that when he awoke, this nonsense would be all behind them. The only way to end this with Dahlia was to face her. Alone, like the note said. Virgil had been hurt enough. Even as irrational as it was, Dahlia wanted a fight. Evita thought about asking Deus to intervene but she and Virgil were responsible for losing an amulet. This fight would be to the death. Evita already saw her Warrior sister’s tarnished wings, and if she was stricken from the Earth herself, so be it. Virgil didn’t need to be a witness.
