by Madelyn Ford
“And we can get on with our lives.” Tory smiled brightly, but the look in Michael’s eyes had it sliding away.
“You do understand, Tory, he is only the first. You are going to be an amazingly powerful witch once you learn the extent of your true powers. Others will come unless…”
She waited for him to continue, but Michael seemed reluctant so she prodded, “Unless what?” When it didn’t seem like he was going to answer, she added, “I swear, if this is our future, Michael, you hiding things from me, you can just keep it.” Tory rose to her feet and tugged her arm in an attempt to gain her freedom. But Michael yanked back and, losing her balance, she ended up in his lap.
“I want you to return with me, to Heaven.”
Now she stared at him flabbergasted. Was he serious? “How is that even possible?”
“There is a portal, but its location has been lost over time. I have Zadkiel searching for it as we speak. It is how you shall gain access.”
“And if I decide not to?”
Michael rested his forehead against hers and sighed. “You really do not want me to answer that.”
“So you are only pretending to give me a choice.”
“You don’t understand what it did to me, to find Asmodeus standing over your bloody form. I cannot go through that again.”
Michael’s response floored Tory. She was the one who had suffered the horror of being run through with a sword. Granted, she had probably blocked out a lot of the details and not everything was totally clear. And she was almost certain the recollection of pain had also dimmed. But still. He was making it all about him and it just pissed her off.
“What about me? I was the one stabbed. I don’t really want to go through it again either.”
“Then come with me,” Michael bellowed.
“Fine,” Tory yelled back.
For one stunned moment, Michael stared at her, his eyes wide. And then he laughed. “Love, you are going to be the death of me.”
“As if,” she mumbled in reply because his lips had already taken control of hers.
Winding her arms around Michael’s neck, Tory arched into him, her breasts flattening against his chest. Who would have ever thought little Victoria Bloom, the misfit, the freak, could ever find such bliss? Her soul mate. She was still coming to terms with what it all meant.
She would never be alone again.
Her sob was captured by Michael’s mouth as the overwhelming urge to worship every inch of him overtook her. Tearing her lips from his, she grasped the edge of his T-shirt. She was desperate to tug it up over his chest but her fingers kept getting tangled in the material. Chuckling, Michael knocked her ineffective hands away before pulling the shirt over his head. Once it was no longer in her way, Tory attacked, running her hands over taut muscles as her lips latched onto one tanned nipple. Michael groaned, his hand cupping the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair.
“Do you like that?” she asked a little uncertainly.
“If I liked it any more I’d come in my jeans.”
His response drew a smile to her lips. With one final lick, she pulled away, ignoring the slight tugging in her hair, and lifted her eyes to meet his. “I want you naked on the bed,” she murmured.
Michael lifted a brow, echoing her grin. “Do you now?” he murmured.
“Yes, I do.” She reached down to run a hand over his covered cock, already rock hard. “And I think you’ll enjoy it.”
Michael closed his eyes, a shudder rippling through him as she squeezed lightly, massaging his flesh with a teasing hand. His hips jerked. The low moan escaping his clenched teeth caused Tory to shiver.
“Shit,” he hissed before grabbing her wrist in his tight grip. “Keep that up and it will be over far too quickly.”
She leaned forward, her lips hovering over the shell of his ear. “Then strip. Now.”
Michael’s entire body jerked this time, then he jumped to his feet, shoving his jeans and underwear down in a frantic rush. He stood proudly in front of her, his cock only inches from her face. Tory circled her palm around the base, marveling at the feeling of silk over steel. Tightening her grip, she pumped from root to tip, smearing the drop of precome around the slit before tugging gently, forcing Michael closer.
She studied the organ, watching more wetness leak from the eye as she fondled the head and her curiosity grew, wondering how he would taste. Flicking her tongue out, she lapped at the meaty cap, dragging a groan from Michael’s chest. His fingers returned to her hair, tangling through the strands, drawing her face closer to his body.
“Damn it, Tory. You’re killing me. Open your mouth, love. Suck me in.”
Complying with his breathless demand, she wrapped her lips around the head, running her tongue under the glans. Her hands grasped his thighs for balance, feeling the tension building with each pass of her tongue. She’d never thought she’d have this opportunity to give the man she loved pleasure, and now that she was here, that she actually could, she was rushing toward a high she’d never expected.
Michael began a gentle rocking motion, pushing his cock a little farther into her mouth with each pass. Tory wrapped a hand around the root to keep him from gagging her. Setting a rhythm, she pumped the base each time she sucked the head past her lips. Her teeth lightly scraped the shaft, dragging another groan from him.
“Play with my balls, Tory. Roll them in your hand.”
His pleading tone had her palming his testicles, the soft furry sacks feeling so different from the hard shaft in her mouth. She experimented, squeezing them gently in her hand before milking them with her fingers.
“That’s it, love,” he whispered hoarsely. “You feel so damn good.”
Lifting her eyes, Tory found Michael’s torrid gaze on her, watching as his dick disappeared into her mouth. His face was pulled tight in a grimace, his teeth clenched as if he fought for control, and Tory loved every minute of it. She felt powerful.
His fingers tugged the strands of her hair. “Pull back, Tory, or I’m going to come,” he demanded, which only incited her to suck harder. Michael groaned roughly. “I mean it, Tory. I can’t hold on.” It only took him a few seconds to realize she had no intention of stopping. His hands went from trying to gain his freedom to gripping the back of her head. “All right, love. You want it, here it comes.” He surged forward, forcing the head of his cock to the back of her throat.
Tory gagged only a second before her throat opened, accepting the intrusion. His cock pulsed against her tongue, semen shooting from the tip. Michael cried out and there was nothing else she could do but swallow the creamy fluid. Tory kept her suctioning lips around him, drinking every last drop until he was spent. When she released him, Michael stumbled away from her.
Breathing heavily, he sagged to the mattress, his pants still hanging around his knees. The amusing sight had Tory chuckling and, as he pulled her into his arms, he said, “Give me a second and I’ll return the favor.”
“You already have,” she whispered, laughter fading away. “You’ve given me more than I ever expected just by being here.”
Michael rolled her under him, his hands brushing her hair back as he gazed into her eyes. “I could say the same, my love. I love you, Victoria Bloom.”
Nodding, Tory was surprised to feel his cock growing hard against her abdomen. “I want you inside me now.”
Michael groaned softly. “Then open up for me, love. Wrap your legs around my waist.”
Tory did, giving a soft cry when she felt him entering her slowly. Her first climax took her by surprise, starting before he was even embedded completely within her. Michael cursed, fisting the bedding on both sides of her head as he retreated then thrust deep. Setting a steady rhythm, he prolonged her first orgasm, sending her falling headfirst into another almost immediately.
Her nails dug into his shoulders, her thighs tightening around him as she arched up, meeting each deep plunge. The third time she came the tremors ripped through her entire body, dragg
ing breathy sobs from her throat, and above her Michael tensed, groaning into her ear.
Tory clung to him, never wanting to lose the security of his arms around her. While the prospect of leaving Earth to remain with him frightened her, she wouldn’t let fear stop her from grabbing hold of happiness with both hands. She had been alone for too long to be foolish enough to let love slip from her grasp.
Chapter Eleven
Forty-eight tension filled hours later and still no demon. Asmodeus had left a trail of bodies all along the East Coast with no rhyme or reason. Michael’s warriors had been chasing their own asses, unable to locate the bastard, and Michael was strung up tighter than a bow.
Tory was doing her best to entertain him, enticing him with sex, but even that had failed to relieve the stress. Not that Michael would dare complain—he wasn’t a fool. But he feared getting too distracted would lead to disastrous consequences, namely Tory skewered on the end of a sword.
Michael slid under the spray of water, rinsing the soap suds from his body and wishing he had accepted Tory’s offer to join him. Being as it was only about an hour until dawn, he’d declined, believing the likelihood of Asmodeus popping in this close to sunrise next to nil. But he didn’t like having her out of his sight.
After turning off the water, he grabbed a towel from the rack and then wrapped it around his waist without really bothering to dry off. He could sense Tory’s frustration. She’d been heading up the attic stairs determined to try casting some sort of locater spell when he’d walked into the bathroom. Finding Tory new spells to occupy her time was about the only thing those two stooges were good for.
Michael made a stop in the bedroom to dress before beginning the climb up the narrow staircase. Halfway up a loud boom damn near shook the foundation and his first thought was of Asmodeus. He yelled Tory’s name, taking the rest of the stairs two at a time, not slowing until he’d crossed the threshold.
The attic was filled with wisps of smoke and the smell, like burning hair, was nauseating. Michael buried his nose in the neck of his shirt, eyes watering as he scanned the room for Tory. And he found her all right, stomping out the last few sparks of what had apparently been another small fire. It was the third in two days. His mate would have made a splendid pyromaniac if it had been intentional.
She had the good grace to blush when she saw him standing there, arms folded across his chest.
“I don’t understand why I can’t get this,” she said, her tone whining and causing Michael to clench his jaw. It wasn’t the first time they’d started a discussion in such a way and he feared probably not the last. He wondered if he would be doing the universe a favor by finding someone to bind Tory’s magic.
“Love, I don’t understand why this is difficult for you. You are a very powerful witch.”
“Me either,” she whispered, approaching him. She took hold of his wrists, guiding them around her waist as she rested her cheek over his heart.
He held her tightly, hearing the tears she was trying to hold back in her voice. Burying his face in her hair, he breathed in the subtle scent of vanilla. It never failed to soothe him. The same way wrapping his arms around Tory seemed to do for her. She finally sighed and sagged against him.
“Do not fret. As soon as we have things settled here I will have Skath recommend another witch to help train you. It will be okay. I promise you, my love.”
He felt her nod against his chest and relief wash through her. The strengthening of their mate-bond had been growing over the last forty-eight hours and already Michael could feel the varied emotions surging through Tory at any given time. Soon it would be even more than that. They would be able to communicate via a form of telepathy known as mate-speak, conveying all thoughts and feelings to each other in an incredibly intimate sharing of minds. Something he used to believe a huge deterrent toward mating but now couldn’t wait to share.
A sudden disturbance in the air was Michael’s first indication they were about to have company. A faint trace of sulfur was his second. Acting on instinct, he pushed Tory behind him as a faint pop reached his ears and Asmodeus appeared on the other side of the attic. He took immediate advantage of the demon’s disorientation, charging his foe as he commanded his sword, Justice, to appear in his hand.
Justice, blazing a fiery yellow flame, was attracted to the evil emanating from Asmodeus. It was a weapon forged in Heaven for the single purpose of extinguishing the souls of the fallen, and it had been discovered any soul could be drawn into the fire. When the blade was hued red or orange those destined for the House of Souls could be trapped within the flame for later retrieval, but when the blade glowed yellow even those of pure intent could unwittingly be forever destroyed. Today Justice was eager for a demon’s demise.
Michael swung at Asmodeus’s torso, cursing when the demon met his advance. He’d hoped this would be easy. Not that Michael was fearful of losing to Asmodeus. The demon had, after all, been routed from Heaven by one of Michael’s weaker warriors. Any other time Michael would have played with his quarry for the sheer fun of it. But Tory was in the room and he would not risk her getting caught in the crossfire.
“Tory, get in the circle now!” he called over his shoulder, barely sparing a glance in her direction. He didn’t have to—he was very aware of her every movement as if her limbs were an extension of his own. And for once, she didn’t argue with him.
Their clash had sent Asmodeus stumbling back a foot, but he regained his balance before Michael could destroy him. The pair circled each other. Michael, confident in his superiority, paid little heed to Asmodeus’s gloating facade.
“Nothing will protect your little witch from me,” Asmodeus taunted, his lips upturned in a smug smile. “Once you have been defeated, I will strip the flesh from her body inch by tiny inch. I might even let you watch while the life drains from you.”
Michael rolled his eyes. Why did demons always feel the need to gloat before he killed them? “And you expect to do this how?”
“Don’t you smell it, oh mighty Michael, the poison that will end your life?”
He felt Tory’s gasp wash over him but refused to acknowledge her fear. He wouldn’t give Asmodeus the satisfaction of seeing the demon’s words had affected him. And it really didn’t change anything. It couldn’t. Not when Tory’s wellbeing hung in the balance. Michael would have to be more careful, make certain Asmodeus’s poisoned blade did not touch him.
“Bring it on.” Completely blocking Tory from his mind, Michael egged the demon on, hoping in Asmodeus’s delusions of grandeur he would attack first.
With a shriek that shook the rafters, Asmodeus lunged at him, granting Michael’s wish. The demon’s eyes were lit with eager anticipation. His sword arm already swinging, Asmodeus aimed for his gut. Michael reacted quickly, Justice spitting and popping as the two swords clashed. Pivoting and using the heel of his boot, Michael slammed his foot down on to the demon’s toes, the howl of pain bringing him an ounce of satisfaction. He wanted Asmodeus to suffer tenfold for all the pain he’d caused Tory. Willing a dagger into his other hand, Michael slashed at the demon’s side, feeling the steel slide through skin.
Asmodeus jerked away, spinning to face Michael. The smugness was now gone from the demon’s features, his gaze warier. It should have made Michael ecstatic, but it didn’t. He couldn’t stop seeing Tory, lying bloody on the floor from the last attack. Shaking his head, he tried to clear his mind of the distraction, lurching backwards in time to avoid getting impaled by Asmodeus’s poisoned blade.
With a gleeful cackle, Asmodeus followed. Michael knew if he didn’t end the confrontation soon, eventually the demon would get lucky. While it wasn’t the wound that would prove fatal, the poison would eat away at his soul slowly—the process long and agonizing until nothing remained of him but ash. Feigning to the right, the demon following, Michael then sprang to the left, getting behind Asmodeus before the demon had realized his mistake. Justice firm in his grip, he embedded the tip in Asmodeus’s
back.
The demon tried to jerk away, to rip free of his fate, but it was already too late. Justice glowed brightly. Great waves of yellow light surged into Asmodeus’s torso, sizzling and snapping in a happy chorus. Sensing Tory’s spike of fear, Michael wished he could move to comfort her. Instead, he braced his legs wide as pulsing waves of energy vibrated up his arm. The light grew larger, surrounding the demon entirely before flooding the attic with its intense glow. Everything, even the very air in the room, stilled for a brief moment and then all light and energy was sucked back into Justice with a resounding pop, leaving only a thin cloud of dust where Asmodeus had once stood.
Standing there, Justice still dancing in joyous waves, Michael barely recognized Tory had broken the seal on the circle of protection. He was too busy trying to get the wayward sword, which still sensed another soul in the room, under control. Holding her off with an outstretched hand, he yelled, “Stay back!” He then concentrated with all his might on Justice. “Evanesco,” he commanded, and the sword disappeared.
Lowering his arm, Michael barely had time to prepare before Tory was jumping at him. “What the hell was that?” she demanded as he caught her, relishing the way she wrapped her limbs around him. Burying his face in her hair, he shook his head. He couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat because for a minute there he hadn’t thought Justice would heed his order.
“I love you, Tory” he whispered, his gaze drawn to the spot Asmodeus had stood. The threat was terminated. At least for now. But Michael knew it wasn’t over. There would always be some demon attracted by her power, who thought he could make a name for himself. Until Zadkiel found the portal Tory would never be truly free. Thankfully, Zadkiel believed he was close. With his hand cupping her cheek, he drew Tory’s head up, and his lips captured hers in a soft kiss.
