Summon Lyght (Archangels Creed)

by Daniels, Kenra

  "Be still."

  Francis recognized the deep ominous voice coming from the right side of the room. The Onyx Archangel Warrior. Even though Francis knew Zool well, he still felt like a stranger. Zool's onyx powers were as dark as his general mood and Francis often marveled how he could appear so fearsome and dreadful and still be on the good side. Even the other Archangels were wary of the black warrior, and for good reason.

  "Zool." Kassern nodded. "What brings you?"

  The tall angel leveled those fearsome eyes on the human boy. "He does."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Miya's pulse pounded in her head as she finished her shower. Had the floors just shook? God, she was nervous. What had she gotten herself into? She had to be insane to bargain away her virginity like a chair in a yard sale. But they'd been so convincing that the fate of the world rested between her legs, leaving her no choice.

  And it wasn't as if she didn't want to be with Lesedi. She did. More than anything. She just didn't want it to be like fulfilling a contract. The rooms they'd been shown to reminded her of an expensive brothel, all rich colors and sparkling furniture made of some kind of gem material that practically glowed. The lavishness of the suite contributed to the sense of surreal prostitution.

  She dried off and stood naked before the floor length mirror constructed from the same stone as everything else, just in silver white, polished to a mirrored shine rather than one of the many hues of the other furniture. Would Lesedi like what he saw? She might be no great beauty, but the artist in her recognized the pleasing proportions and symmetry of both her face and figure. Unless his culture had trained him to prefer something else, he would like her.

  And certainly he would know what to do. She sure as hell didn't. She knew the facts, of course, and even a little of finer details, but nothing from experience. All she knew came from books, romance novels in particular. And she'd often been informed that real guys bore absolutely no resemblance to the heroes her favorite authors cooked up.

  This wasn't exactly like an actual romance anyway. More a business transaction. They needed to do the deed so Lyght could do whatever it was he did and fight the demons. No matter what it really was, though, Miya wasn't about to walk into her first sexual experience as if it were nothing more than a handshake. Hopefully Lesedi wouldn't find her little preparations too ludicrous. Surely a shower and clean underwear wouldn't be considered too prudish.

  Someone had mentioned that everything she might need waited in the suite for her, and so far she hadn't missed anything. From toothbrush to exquisitely scented soaps to towels thick enough to get lost in, the best of everything waited for her.

  And the clothes! She'd hoped for maybe a T-shirt and track pants or something, but when she stood before the massive stone wardrobe in the fluffy robe she'd found waiting in the bathroom, it slid open. An inner door revealed drawer after drawer of silk and lace lingerie, all in exactly her size. The other side held several exquisite gowns, tons of jeans and tops, and too many other things to count, along with a collection of shoes the likes of which she'd never seen. Miya had the uncanny feeling that if she climbed inside the wardrobe, she might find a door on the other side leading her back to the real world. She was seriously tempted to check, just in case. She intended to go through with the plan, but an escape hatch might come in handy.

  Opening the other set of wardrobe doors, she found a similar assortment of clothing for a man, presumably Lesedi. Was he responsible for it all? Not like it mattered. The clock was ticking. The last thing she wanted was for him to get impatient with waiting for her.

  She returned to the lingerie drawers. What should she wear? Not one of the negligées that looked like they should be on some French model. Definitely not. She looked in vain for a plain bra and panties and finally had to settle for an ivory silk set trimmed in delicate lace.

  What else? Jeans seemed a little too casual. The gowns were unbelievable, but definitely too much. She didn't want to feel like an overpriced painting. Somewhat discouraged, she flipped through the remaining hangers of nice clothes, looking for the one thing that felt just right.

  Ready to give up and just meet Lesedi in the underwear and bathrobe, Miya almost didn't look at the dress on the last hanger, especially since yellow wasn't usually her color. But a closer look convinced her she'd found exactly the right dress. A strapless sundress with a fitted bodice of suede denim in a yellow so pale it was almost ivory and a flowing ankle length skirt was the perfect mix of innocent and hot. At least she hoped it was.

  ****

  Lesedi tried to keep his fascination in check. The situation with Miya became something entirely different the moment she agreed to participate in the angels' plan. From his perspective, he could barely contain his anticipation. He had waited, near breathless, while she found one delay tactic after another—discussion with the others, a meal, a shower. Would she next demand sleep first?

  Miya, on the other hand, seemed almost crippled with apprehension, definitely confirming Lyght's assessment. A shame, really. He would have preferred she stay breathless and highly combustible with his touch. First he would have to coax his way past the strong business-like façade she had taken on to cover for her lack of experience.

  At the moment, she flitted around the room like restless soft yellow light, tinkering with the many lit candles, finding it too dark. Lesedi watched in fascination from his seat on the bed, his back propped against the padded headboard. She had prepared for him and dressed in a soft-looking dress the color of morning sunlight that left her delicate shoulders bare. Lesedi wouldn't be surprised if the skirt were made of spun diamond, light as air, the way it glistened and floated about her legs, first clinging then flirting.

  He felt as if he had walked into some warped alternate dimension made entirely of diamond in various hues and tints and impossible thicknesses. The whole ensemble was fit for a king, only he did not feel like a king. The contradiction provided an awkward distraction. Filled with such wonder and fascination, how would he ever relax enough to…No, that would not be a problem. Just watching her move around filled him with aching need.

  Miya's behavior served as a distraction as well, an obstacle to be overcome in order to claim what was his. Her nervous resignation to her fate turned her into a monarch butterfly in combat boots. The moment she decided to take part in the mission, she focused on Operation Sex, approaching their coming union like a logistical problem to be surmounted. Apparently, endless and elaborate planning and preparation were necessary for a suitable outcome.

  She seemed to need the delay tactics. He burned to tell her they needed nothing more than privacy and time, but if her strange rituals abated some of her anxiety, he could wait. After all, her first time should be perfect, and he would do anything she needed to make it that way, including wait.

  He only wished she realized she need not feel like a prisoner led to execution. Such an air of foreboding while approaching what should be a joyous moment betrayed her inexperience. He needed a way to ease her fears.

  Finally, she seemed to come to some sort of resolution and came to the bed. "So…" She sat with trembling finality on the mattress, eyes lowered to avoid his gaze. "What…position should we do this in?"

  Lesedi stared at her, trying not to smile. Did she really just ask that? She must think sex needed planning out, or something. He was left at a total loss to explain the reasoning behind her question. "What position would you like to perform in, Miya?"

  Her face froze in confusion. She clearly had not anticipated being required to answer her own question.

  He should help her. Despite the impulse to give gentle guidance, his annoyance with her businesslike approach to their lovemaking insisted on showing itself. "Perhaps doggie style? Something more daring? No? How about missionary? Yes, I'm sure that is the perfect position for you. Miya the missionary, storming the sexual jungle with a guerilla vagina, determined to conquer the enemy penis."

  Her jaw dropped and Lesedi immedi
ately regretted the insult. "What is your problem?"

  Frustration won out over his guilt. "Do you really expect me to make love to you this way? Like a military operation or some distasteful business deal? I am forced to admit, even as much as I want you, it is a bit difficult to attain the necessary… erection." Lie. Even as he scolded, his hard-on strained against his zipper.

  Her eyes widened with the dramatic shrug of her shoulders. "This way? What do you want from me? This is my first time, if you're expecting some raving performance from me, you're way out of luck and better head on back to Africa."

  "Performance!" Lesedi bolted up from the bed and paced, cock pushing uncomfortably against his waistband, his glare trained on her. "Performance?" Everything about her drove him closer to the edge of passion, some new horizon beyond which he had never ventured.

  "Am I using the wrong term?" A barely audible note of smallness in her tone betrayed her true confusion.

  Lesedi forced his voice to soften, just a little. "Very much so." A small seed of guilt pricked at his conscience and reminded him of her virginity.

  She shot to her feet. "Well excuse me! I must have been absent the day they dished out sexual vocabulary. I suppose you'd be oh so fluent though."

  He paused and narrowed his gaze. She met it with her own determined one. He wanted to make a suitably caustic retort, but he could not deny the fact that he was very well-spoken in every aspect of sex. He went back to pacing, focusing on the problem. Her. "I may be fluent in sex, but I sure as hell do not plan on just assuming a position and fucking you like an animal with a contract to fulfill." He paused and wagged his index finger with a definitive no. "I did not. Sign up for that."

  By her incredulous gasp, she had misconstrued his words. Again. But which ones? He could only wait with bated breath for some clue.

  Her retaliation began with a furious nod that swung her loose hair in a distracting cloud around her face. As if she sensed the direction of his thoughts, she furiously pushed the offending hair back, pulling the whole mass into one clump. "So you are fluent in sex." She nodded at him for many seconds then plopped back on the bed. "Aren't I just out of my league? How many women have you fucked, exactly? Or can you even remember?" Something like despair crept into her voice, just for a moment, quickly replaced by fury. "Maybe you're married. Oh!" She gasped and widened her eyes. "Maybe you have many wives Mr. African…Harem Husband. Get the knife ready to jab another notch in your fucking belt." She quoted the air with her fingers.

  Lesedi stared at her slack jawed, unable to regain his composure. Toward the end of her tirade, he'd realized it. She was jealous. His broad grin fought through, impossible to repress no matter how angry it would make her.

  Her gaze narrowed and a wave of palpable fury rolled from her. "What is so fucking…funny?"

  His cock throbbed again, sensing the passion coursing through her. It thrust toward her with unashamed need before he could regain control. Damn. He had meant to hide how glad her jealousy made him.

  Once again, she misread him. Her gaze suddenly lowered to his waist and she gasped and pointed. "Oh so now you're ready to get busy?"

  Yes. Yes he was. Her jealousy of the women he'd been with provided a major turn on for him. Her possessiveness aroused him wildly, driving him to possess in return. She was possessive of him. Odd, given his history with women, but nonetheless arousing. He wanted Miya jealous, needed her possessive. Given the flush in her cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of her breasts, his arousal did more than just anger her.

  In reaction to the realization, Lesedi's hand dropped to cup his cock.

  Her tongue swept over her lower lip in nervous reaction to his boldness. No. Hungry. She was hungry. For him. And afraid at the same time. The entire performance was no more than a tough act. All her instincts insisted on hiding fear and innocence. Those qualities turned a woman into prey for the likes of that asshole at the diner.

  She needed direction, as his earlier impulse suggested. Guidance. A sure hand.

  Mmm. Maybe firm and sure. His cock jumped at the overwhelming impulse to dominate her. Bring her to her knees in wanton desire. Begging.

  Would she submit? Or fight? Could she give him the ultimate gift of her trust?

  Excited need drove him to forge ahead, without the careful negotiations and guidelines western women generally expected in such arrangements. "Since I am the one with all of the experience, I will lead you. You will do as I say. Say yes if you agree to this, or no, if you don't. But know that once you agree, I will not stop. I will not stop until you are screaming my name and clawing my flesh in unfettered passion." He watched her go from angry to breathless arousal in the space of a heartbeat.

  Her eyelids lowered with desire and her cheeks flared with heat. The concept might be new to her, but instinct drove her to accept his domination.

  "Yes. Or no," he said again, his voice as hard as his aching cock.

  Several seconds passed before she whispered her reply. "Yes."

  Excitement erupted in Lesedi. He had fantasized making tender love to her with all the gentle passion her virginity dictated. But this…this was like dessert before dinner. "You can start by undressing for me. Slowly."

  The situation suddenly turned very combative. She was his captive, to be conquered. He was her captor, with desire as his weapon. And he planned to use it ruthlessly to achieve his objective, to have her drowning in need for him.

  Independent nature or not, she complied, movements jerky and all virgin.

  He almost regretted his demand. Removing that soft dress himself would tantalize him to distraction. He would make time for that later.

  Desire made his cock throb hard. She was his. He would be the first and only to taste and touch and sink his cock into her paradise. He would mark her sweet body with a passion she would never recover from. Nor he.

  Lesedi angled his head, gaze roaming her naked body with hot possession. "Turn." Monumental need forced the word out as a harsh growl.

  Rather than flinch from his aggressive tone, she obeyed with a delicate sweetness until her firm ass stared at him. She was wide in the hips and narrow in the waist. Sheer perfection. It made him crave to see his cock buried in her while gripping her waist, her cute ass facing him.

  "Come here." His voice cracked like a youth stealing his first touch of female flesh. Insane proof that he had been too long without a woman. The voice in the back of his mind brutally corrected the thought. He had gone too long without Miya. No other would do.

  She looked over her shoulder, warm brown eyes glowing. His cock jerked at the angelic image she presented. She came to him, covering her secrets with shy hands, and paused a foot away.

  "Never hide what is mine from me, Miya. Lower your hands." He would fall to pieces if she did not reveal herself to him.

  She complied, slow and shy, eyes lowered. A deep breath gave her the courage to move her arm and reveal the most utterly exquisite breasts in the world, delectable pink tips straining toward his chest.

  Lesedi had to call on the same iron detachment that allowed him to carry out some of his more nefarious business deals. Otherwise he would have devoured her on the spot. He fought back a moan. "Undo my pants."

  She met his gaze for a short instant, then lowered her eyes once more.

  Lesedi watched, breathing carefully, as her small hands opened his belt then worked at his pants. The sound of his zipper going down slowly was barely audible over the harshness of his breath. God, the woman was driving him to desperation.

  He bit his lip, trying to regain some sense of the control he was dangerously near losing, and pushed his jeans down, while leaving his black underwear in place. Standing before her like that, with only the thin silk of his boxers between them, had a maddening effect on Lesedi. His hips surged toward her and her little whimper nearly undid him. He stroked his cock. "Do you want to see?" His hoarse whisper betrayed his hope.

  Tiny beads of sweat appeared at the edge of her forehead and she lic
ked her lips and nodded.

  Something eerily like self-consciousness assailed him as he pulled his underwear down over his impossibly huge erection. What if she were frightened? Or worse, repulsed?

  Her low moan and half-closed eyes said she was neither frightened nor repulsed. More like fascinated. Starved.

  "Touch it." His voice broke with desire.

  Her lips parted in an enraptured expression, breasts rising and falling beneath the tightest and pinkest peaks. Beautiful. He needed to know if her secrets held that delicate color.

  She reached with her index finger and touched the top ridge, making it jump. She gasped and slowly drew her finger over him until Lesedi's breath escaped in a rush. She looked up at him when her finger encountered the sensitive top and he choked back a groan. The look on her face was one of wonder. But the brave little explorer peeking through her heated gaze set him on fire.

  A dozen different orders froze on his tongue, things he needed her to do, but he could wait a little if the delay meant watching her instincts lead her into pleasure. He kept his hands still at his sides to let her feel her way.

  Magical fingers swirled over the aching head, wetting him and drawing a tortured moan from his throat. His eyes wanted to fall closed but he struggled to keep them open in order to watch her pale fingers dance along his dark length until she stroked him with one hand and toyed with the parts of him she discovered.

  It was instantly clear that driving him crazy was something she had to do. Her own moans followed hard on his as she drew his desire to a critical point.

  Sudden wet heat enveloped his cock. "Miya!" God. She was on her knees doing exactly what he wanted to demand and feared she would refuse. "God, God, God," he gasped. She did not just suck him. The combined sucking, licking, nipping and swirling was more like devouring him.

  Both his hands fisted in her hair, beyond his control. He moved his hips to her frantic tune, locked in her power over him. She would do whatever she wanted and he would have not a damn word to say, only breathe and gasp on the mounting wave she pulled up in him. Without mercy. "Miya, Miya," he croaked.