by Tigris Eden
All things happened for a reason. During the war, Serb and his family had had no choice but to go back beneath the earth. Humans revolted against the Demons and their kin, while worshiping the sky and the elemental gods. Asmodeus had been outraged and had taken up arms to unite his fellow Demonkind.
At first, it had been souls they sought. He gathered the darkest and most demented of the Earth to recruit into his army. A contingent that was meant to overthrow the first of the gods, who would deny Asmodeus’s passage to Earth.
It was during that campaign that Serb had run into Isaiah’s mother. She had been casting stones out into the river Nile, watching as the procession of the goddess Isis was taking place. Asmodeus had sent them out as scouts and makers. The scouts were to survey the land, looking for the darkest of souls. Serb was tasked with breeding with as many humans as possible, in order to create an army that could move freely in the light and thrive in the dark. Serb had thought that Sekhmet was human. He’d had no idea that she was the Warrior Goddess of Upper Egypt. To this day, his mother was not right in her ways because of his father’s claiming. She often drifted in and out of lucidity, and if she were ever set free, there would be such chaos, not even he and his brothers could stop her. Isis had tried to get her to drink from the river Euphrates, where she would forget her torment. Sekhmet had almost done exactly that when, days later, she realized that she was with child.
And that was how he’d come to be a part of this world.
Chapter 6
There was loud, agonized screaming in the clearing up ahead. “Stupid, stupid woman,” Dalila said to no one in particular. She hadn’t stayed in the car like Isaiah had asked. Instead, she got out, determined to have his back, for reasons she didn’t know.
He only kissed you. You hardly owe him anything.
Yet, she kept walking toward the sound. She noticed a foul stench in the air, an intense smell of burning sulfur. It was awful and rank. She couldn’t breathe too deeply for fear it would clog her throat. Dalila walked toward the scent when she noticed Isaiah lying in a blackened hole.
His wings bent protectively over his body as smoke rose from the ground. The scent got stronger as she approached. She would never get over the massiveness of him or his wings. Isaiah’s breath was shallow, strained. Walking forward, she whispered his name while looking around to see if there was indeed someone more sinister about.
“Isaiah?”
Dalila stood frozen, unmoving. Somehow, she discerned that he was hurt, and in a bad way. She knew they were both in danger. She accepted it all the way into her soul. She didn’t understand why, but she focused and moved forward.
He was lying there, the ground burned black in a circle around him. She smoothed his feathers back to get a better look at him, careful not to touch the ends where she’d read about them being poisonous.
“God, this is a nightmare. The guy is a massive bird. I’m so not ready for this Barbarella shit.” While she stroked his feathers, Isaiah began to stir. Dalila moved to give him some room.
“Isaiah, can you hear me? It’s Dalila, we need to get you up.”
Who was she kidding? She was scared shitless with no idea what movie she currently starred in. She’d stepped out of one nightmare starring Jared and Bimbo Barbie and into the Twilight Zone of all freak shows. She believed in the supernatural, understood that God was real, but she’d never figured to meet anything or anyone who even remotely resembled what Isaiah exhibited.
He for damn sure wasn’t what the history books had said about Angels. In the books she’d read, they had white wings and were super cute and sweet. They didn’t have a body of a mythological Greek god, and they sure weren’t sex personified. Because that’s exactly what Isaiah was. He was sex in all its carnal glory.
“Isaiah, you have to get up now. You don’t expect me to carry you back to the car, do you?” Isaiah didn’t move, he just lay there taking deep breaths. “I guess I’ll have to drag you back to the car, it’s the only way I’m going to get your big ass there.”
Dalila bent to touch his shoulder, trying to roll him over onto his back. “I hope this doesn’t hurt your wings.” She struggled as she tried to roll him over. His hand shot out and grabbed her arm, pulling her down on top of him. She screamed, and his eyes opened. No longer storm gray, they were now silver, and there was a new storm brewing beneath his thick, long lashes. Iridescent swirls of silver swam in the center. It was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen.
His breathing was still heavy and labored as Dalila lay on top of him. “Isaiah, it’s me, Dalila. I won’t hurt you. I’m trying to help you. Please, let me up.”
Still lying on top of him, she squirmed, trying to get up. His hold tightened on her waist, and one hand smoothed down her back until his hand rested on her ass. He gently squeezed, letting out a low, grating growl.
“I told you not to get out of the fucking car.” His voice was rough, almost primitive. She couldn’t understand what he was talking about. She was too busy acknowledging his hand roaming over her ass, enjoying the harshness of his voice vibrating in her chest as it traveled through her entire body. She hadn’t realized it, but she was grinding herself into his warmth, testing the firm length of his cock. Damn, he was hard.
“I can feel you, Dalila, all of you.” His voice touched a place deep inside of her. If he kept talking like this, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to control her actions.
Why am I so drawn to this man?
Isaiah squeezed her tighter, burying his head in the crook of her neck. He took a deep breath to inhale her scent. His lips caressed her, heating her skin, boiling her blood. That was all it took for her body to melt into his.
“Okay, you feel me, I feel you, but we have to move. Now,” she groaned in a breathless tone.
Maybe this wasn’t the time to ask him questions, especially when being in his arms felt so right. She needed to get him to the car, and as quickly as possible. They were both vulnerable out in the open.
“We’ll talk later, Dalila,” he whispered in her ear, rubbing his lips across her lobe, taking it between his teeth to nibble. “Just help me stand and get me back to the farmhouse as fast as you can.”
Well, today, she was Barbarella. Only Barbarella got sexed up by a winged man, not a dangerous warrior.
Ω Ω Ω
“You need to do that thing where your wings go away. I can’t drive around with you in the car looking like this. And where are your clothes? Why are you dressed that way?” Dalila asked.
He didn’t answer her, just hoisted himself up onto his knees and then waited for her to get under his arm so she could attempt to lift him. It was a bit of a struggle at first, but she eventually got him standing.
Slowly, they made the trek back to the car, with Isaiah looking around, taking in everything as he passed. His eyes scanned every inch of the forest, looking for the possible threat that Dalila knew was out there. He was dressed differently, in linen pants, and there was a sword strapped to his back. The weapon and its scabbard were nestled perfectly between his shoulder blades. Again, she was amazed, during what seemed to be a day for amazing shit to happen.
She felt Isaiah tighten his hold on her shoulder and looked over to see him staring at her, his eyes filled with pain and something else she couldn’t place.
Their gazes locked for what seemed like forever until she finally broke the spell and looked away. Isaiah had a way of stripping her down to her barest and basest of thoughts. He was not something she could tangle with. Ever.
Getting him to the car was the easy part. Getting him into the car was another task unto itself. The man was as stubborn as an ox. He didn’t say a word as she helped him into the seat, only let out a series of grunts and moans. When she finally got him in all the way, she noticed that he’d passed out. His wings were being squished by the sheer size of him and her small compact Volkswagen.
“Dammit!” Dalila screamed
Dalila hurried to her side of the Bug and
quickly jumped in. Not wasting any more time, she started the car and headed toward the farmhouse, saying a prayer on the way.
When she finally made it to the homestead, Raz was outside, standing in front of the house as if waiting for them. The moment the car stopped, he wrenched open the passenger side door and pulled Isaiah from the car. Raz moved with sure strides as Grey held open the front door. Dalila walked behind him. As she went in, she noticed that Grey quickly moved out of her path and headed back toward the kitchen, while Raz carried Isaiah toward the bedroom.
“Hit the shower, Grey,” Raz yelled. “I’m going to see if I can get someone down here to tend to him.”
“There is no fucking way that anyone can come tend him, not here, not in this realm. And…fuck.” He tugged at the ends of his hair. “We can’t take him back because of her.” Grey shot Dalila a murderous stare. Did all of them have to sound like sex and sin? Even when they were being assholes, they were incredible.
“Well, someone needs to tend to him, and I’m sure as hell not getting in the shower with his ass. He gets way too touchy when he’s out like this, man, and my ship only sails one way. Pussy Island.”
Dalila looked between them and decided to speak up.
“What’s wrong with him? Why is he passed out like that? He was lucid for a moment before I got him into the car. I can tend to him if you tell me what he needs. I can do it.” Both brothers looked at her and then back at Isaiah, who was now thrashing back and forth on the bed. The sheets began to smoke as if he were burning right through to the mattress. Dalila held back a gasp as Raz and Grey seemed to be having a silent argument. Finally, both of them seemed to come to some agreement. Raz stalked toward her and got so close their noses almost touched. Between gritted teeth, he spoke.
“You will tend to him, but with your clothes on. Do you understand? He needs the water to cool off, and he needs it now before he burns the house down. Why the hell didn’t you burn up when he touched you? Or the car for that matter? You should be dead, mortal.”
The hell if she knew. She’d seen him lying in the clearing and immediately went to his aid. “I don’t know,” Dalila whispered. “Maybe he toned it down. Maybe that’s why he passed out. Does this normally happen with your kind?”
Raz backed her up against the wall, crowding her as his eyes bored into hers. She could see death in their depths. Clearly, he was threatening her. She understood now that these men were a close-knit group, and if anything happened to Isaiah, she would likely pay with her life.
She swallowed tightly. Raz’s breath fanned her cheek, and she felt as if there were an ice storm slashing her from the inside. Squeezing her eyes tight, she stood there as the burning coldness built to freezing degrees. Her flesh felt as if it were ripping, and she could almost feel blood well up where her skin cracked. The scream that tore from her lips was a sound she would never forget in all her life.
Just as quickly as she was sure she was bleeding, it all abruptly stopped. Seconds ticked by before she opened her eyes again. She looked down at her hands and touched her lips. Smooth.
“That is only a taste of what I can do to you, mortal, if you even so much as cause one small injury to my brother. Get your ass in that restroom and tend to him. You will need to make sure the water is cool. Otherwise, he will burn a hole in the floor. Go, now!” Raz roared.
She didn’t need to be told twice. Dalila quickly walked into the restroom where the shower was already running. It was cold, and she was glad that she was able to keep her clothes on. Way over my head, she thought again.
The phrase in the thick of it didn’t even begin to explain the kind of shit she was walking through right now. She stepped into the icy spray and shivered, then stood near the corner and waited for Raz to bring Isaiah into the bathroom.
He entered, holding Isaiah up and speaking to him in a language she’d never heard before. His voice was soft and reassuring, but Isaiah only grunted in response. Raz shot Dalila another warning glare and then opened the shower door. He didn’t step in. He had Isaiah hold on to the sides of the door and rudely gave Dalila instructions for how to tend to his brother.
“Let the water soak him and stay clear of the wings. Allow them their room, as well. Don’t step on a single feather. Once the steam dissipates, then you can wash him off and call one of us to come and get him. He will mumble a lot and seem out of it, but just ignore him and make sure there is no more steam coming off his body before you touch him. Otherwise, you may die. You will need to remove his pants to wash him. There is a symbol in the shape of a spitting cobra on his left thigh. Watch it, gauge it. If it turns red, holler for me or my brother, and we will take care of the rest. You should survive this as long as you do exactly as I say.” Raz looked her up and down, grinning, the playful expression back once more.
“And, Dalila…” He looked her straight in the eyes and smiled. “…nice tits.”
Raz shut the door. The moment he did, Isaiah dropped to the floor on one knee. A spitting cobra? Why in the hell did she need to watch if a spitting cobra tattoo turned red? Unhappy about the tending duty—which should have been called death duty—Dalila sat there dumbfounded.
Perversely, she wondered what lay beneath his pants. The water hit Isaiah’s back in sheets, the six nozzles spraying constant streams of water. As they did, steam rose up in great puffs, heating the entire enclosure. It was so foggy from the steam that Dalila could scarcely see her own hand.
She felt for the walls and tried to back herself into the farthest corner, waiting for the steam to dissipate. She could hear Isaiah grunting and moaning. It seemed to last forever until the sounds stopped, and his breathing increased.
He began taking big gulps of air, and the steam, although not as thick as before, continued to rise from his body. How was it that she hadn’t gotten burned by him? Especially if what Raz had said was true. Where his hands braced himself and his knees touched the tile now, burn marks had appeared, scorching the surfaces. There was no other explanation: he must have somehow protected her from it. Her car had been safe, too, but not the sheets in the house. Somehow, he had shielded her from the worst part.
Dalila thought back to when she saw him in the clearing. She’d smelled that horrid stench of burning flesh and sulfur. She now knew the sound she’d heard must have been screams. But from who? The ground was indeed burnt, she’d cataloged it all, but she’d never paid it any attention. Her only concern was that she get to Isaiah and help him.
Dalila had always had a very detailed, organized memory. It was part of the reason she’d done so well in school. Everything was easy for her to pick up on. Lost in thought, she waited for the steam to clear. Soaked and only mildly freezing, she threw a silent prayer up to the heavens, just in case someone was up there listening.
Isaiah’s hand reached out through the steam. Before she could stop it, he hauled her to his body, plastering her flush against his skin. She hadn’t even seen him move.
Hard body met soft skin, and Dalila sucked in a harsh breath. He once again buried his head in her neck and took gasping breaths as he began to shudder.
Dalila flattened the palms of her hands on his chest and gently eased back. He only let her move a little before his grip tightened. There wasn’t a scar marring his chest, but the steam still rolled from him. She tensed again when he began speaking in a low rumble, a melodic sound that hypnotized. His language was beautiful.
His mouth closed over her shoulder, and he bit down, not hard, but firm. She was in his grip, and he began to pull her closer, making her arms and legs feel like jelly. Should she speak while he was like this? She didn’t know.
The water from the spray was cooling her on the outside, while the closeness of him burned her from the inside. The dual sensations were driving her mad. Then he spoke so she could understand him, not only with his words but also with his body.
“I can smell your desire, little one. Your unchecked want reaches out and grabs my cock in a tight grip.”
One minute, she was against his body, and in the next, he’d spun her around and jerked her back by her shirt. The move was so swift, Dalila thought she actually saw a small blue flame.
Her back now even with his chest, Isaiah bent her forward with the push of his hand, grinding her ass with his erection. She could feel the hard length of him through her soaked jeans. He ground against her in an unrestrained motion, one hand holding her down while the other gripped her hip with bruising force. Her whole body quaked with need, and there was nothing she could do but try to get closer. She needed to be closer.
No, you need to adhere to your instructions.
“Hold still, damn you,” he growled.
Dalila went completely still in his grasp, yet he continued to push into her through his pants and into her jeans. Separated by clothing but not by lust.
He was destroying her down to the very last strings of her soul. Dammit, she had not signed on to be groped by the hottie of the year—pun intended, in every sense of the word.
Dalila tried to stand, but his grip got tighter. The hand at her waist stilled, while the one on her back slid to her neck, pulling her upright with such force that the breath she had been holding escaped from her mouth, displacing the cloud of steam.
Isaiah wound his large hand around her throat and pulled her head back to rest against his chest. His hand slid down her hip to wrap around her stomach. The heat of his palm seeped into her skin as he held her in place. He trailed kisses down her neck and shoulder. Dalila’s shirt was plastered to her skin, but she could still feel the intensity of his lips and the warmth of his tongue.
He nipped and then licked away the sting. She couldn’t catch her breath, and her heart thrummed out a rhythmic beat that she could feel all the way to her feet.
Then he whispered something that not only shattered her soul, but also enraged her heart. “Lana, su tap ma en.”
Who the hell was Lana? She may not speak his language, but he had definitely mistaken her for someone else.
