by Michele Hauf
What if the halo downstairs was drawing Zaqiel here now?
It was what Ashur wanted—most of the time. The demon vacillated between drawing the angel to them, and not. It was as if he didn’t want the end to come.
Was it because it would bring an end to their relationship? Once Zaqiel had been dispatched, Ashur would leave and seek out the next angel.
Unless he asked for a mortal soul and stayed here with her.
It was a nice thought, but Eden suspected she was only daydreaming a better ending to this story. Really, she was too frazzled to think straight.
She bent to turn on the water, then selected some bubble bath from the closet shelf and poured that in. The room blossomed with lavender, and Eden stripped off her bra and panties. She left the door open about a foot. Being able to hear Ashur shuffle about below gave her a sense of comfort.
And if he wanted to clean up after his heroic efforts, who was she to stop him?
Ashur inspected the halo stuck into the wall. He blew off the pulverized plaster dust from the blade. The curved halo had easily cut through the solid plaster and embedded itself two inches deep.
He reached to touch it, but when it flashed blue, he retracted.
It was the strangest thing he’d ever witnessed. He’d not known of a halo being reunited with its owner. Perhaps it was Zaqiel’s? And if so, could it sense when a slayer was near? Is that why it glowed?
It confounded him, but he would worry about it later. He was thankful it had not harmed Six.
Hell, if it had, this mission would be over.
And what if it did belong to Zaqiel and he could control the halo without being present?
No. Ashur dismissed that idea. The Fallen would never purposely destroy a muse. Of course, it could have been off course and intended for his neck.
“Nah.” He gave the Fallen one little rein in the fore-thought and planning department. It had been a fluke the halo was now stuck in the wall.
Straightening the toppled kitchen chairs, and noting the debris of paint chips and stone dust all over the floor, he decided sweeping was not in his skill set. Besides, he didn’t want to disturb the sigils. A walk through the house to ensure nothing else had fallen down or gone untoward was necessary, and to ensure all windows were locked and no glass had cracked.
He took the stairs two at a time to the upper level and checked the first bedroom, which Six had indicated he could use. A single bed with a white woven comforter mastered the room. A housekeeper must have placed the vase of fresh lavender on the windowsill. He’d noticed the purple flower was abundant in the fields as they’d arrived. The paned window was locked. The glass was thin, easily cracked, but it remained intact after the shaking the house had taken.
This villa reminded him of old-style housing from Greece. Made of stone and plaster quarried from the land, it was cool and airy. Nothing like Beneath. It was something he could get used to—but mustn’t. He didn’t belong here.
He wanted to belong here.
And why was that? Certainly the world appealed more than Beneath did. But a Sinistari without purpose was nothing more than another face lost amongst the billions who inhabited this earth. Slaying was the only purpose Ashur had.
Could anything else satisfy him as much?
Crossing the hallway, he ensured the windows in Six’s room were still locked up tight.
At the end of the hallway he heard water splash. The bathroom door was ajar. She’d left it open?
Did she want him to enter, or was she merely teasing him?
If she wished to break him, she was on the right track. The emotions creeping back into his memory delighted in release, good, bad and/or ugly.
He’d not experienced pleasure in so long. It was his right. He had taken no vow to remain chaste while he pursued his prey. He was only restricted from the one emotion.
So why not go in search of a woman to appease that ache?
It didn’t feel right. Because it threatened his only means to satisfaction?
“You loitering?” she called.
Her voice rang cloyingly, like forbidden church bells clanging together in his gut. He wondered what color it would be if he could see voices as the Fallen did. Purple and crimson, he decided, lush and sensual.
He stepped into the doorway and leaned against the frame that didn’t meet the wall snuggly and which creaked with his weight. The walls were tiled, but here and there a few tiles the color of spring grass shoots were missing. All the old plumbing was visible, running along the ceiling and down to the toilet and tub. The claw-foot tub was mounded with bubbles.
Six sat upright, her wavy hair pulled loosely onto her head in luscious waves. The bubbles covered her as if an iridescent gown with a neckline dancing below her shoulders. That didn’t keep him from wondering what the skin below was like.
If the Fallen touched one portion of her flesh…
Ashur’s fists tightened. He sucked in a breath. So quickly he assumed jealousy.
“There’s a chair,” she offered.
Did the fair mortal attempt to seduce him, Ashuriel the Black? That red bra and panties hadn’t been warding wear at all, and she had known it.
Ashur sat on the wing-backed wicker chair and stretched out his legs. He still wore no shirt and was dusty after the warding. He twitched his dusted toes. He could use a bath himself.
He caught her eyes as they took in every inch of his abdomen and chest. He wondered at the gears and pulleys working in her brain. Women were never thinking what he thought they were. When he thought “sex,” they were probably thinking “balance the checkbook.” And vice versa.
“Very well, I am sitting in the chair,” he said. “Does this please you?”
“Very much. I can’t recall when last I had a more delicious companion.”
“Do you often bathe before men?”
“Only the ones I like.”
That sexy smirk of hers reached right out and tweaked at his desires.
But not so fast.
“I like modern women,” he said. “I observed many when I walked the world. You all are so to the point.”
“Not all of us. Some are demure and polite. I don’t believe in playing coy. Not anymore. If I want something, I ask for it.” She blew at the bubbles about her neck and a thick pouf dispersed, exposing the glistening rise of one of her breasts. “Otherwise, what’s the purpose of waiting silently and perhaps missing the opportunity?”
“Then you must be even more to the point. Tell me—” he leaned forward “—what is it you want, Six?”
“You.”
Much as he had anticipated that answer, it still challenged his sense of what he expected from a woman. The last time he’d dallied with women they’d been mostly subservient and sex was more a means to an end, unless he’d found a whore.
Indeed, the modern women were independent and strong. He liked that. Yet he couldn’t deny the sense of unease that kept him firmly planted on the chair. He was not ready to approach her yet, though parts of him had already crossed the room and stood over her, ogling her exposed, wet skin.
This modern woman could prove his undoing.
“I haven’t forgotten what you told me about when you were previously here on earth,” she said. “You were tortured because you fell in love.”
“Yes.”
She blew a thick froth of bubbles before her, which revealed her knees, bent before her chest. “Then don’t fall in love with me.”
“I don’t intend to.”
Her poker face momentarily stalled. Ashur caught the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. She hadn’t wanted to hear that answer.
“Fine. I don’t intend to fall in love with you, either.” She spread her arms along the tub rim and lifted one leg out to point in the air. Water glistened on the gorgeous limb. “Were you…scarred? From the torture?”
“Yes. In my true form I bear the scars of my sin. The rage of angels is more wicked than the worst evils you can imagine.”
>
“I still can’t believe it is an angel who commands you, and was responsible for your torture.”
“Torture is my past.”
“Yet it seems present with you now,” she said.
“It has made me the demon I am today.”
“Everyone can change.”
“You can’t change me.”
“You and I change every moment we’re alive. It’s unavoidable. You might think you can’t change, but it’s already happening, buddy.”
He hung his head. He did not want to discuss the impossible when she had so cleverly set the bait for a more seductive liaison. “Back to what you want.”
One of her eyebrows arched in a delicate curve. Ashur envisioned drawing his tongue along it, tracing her interest. The corner of her mouth curled up, begging for a kiss right in the crease.
“Indeed,” she purred. “What I want. Very well. Can we have sex?”
Mercy. The direct approach was certainly unique, and amazingly effective. “You wish to have sex with me, knowing exactly what I am?”
“Why is it so hard for you to believe a woman could fall—er, would desire you? You’ve had nothing but my best interest in mind since you tugged me away from the scene of the accident. You quickly decided against using me as bait.”
“I refuse to learn your name. Does that not offend you?”
“Nope.”
Well. That was all the argument he had. No sense in conjuring false reasons to display a morality he did not possess.
Ashur stood and approached the tub. Anticipation sweetened his disposition. She wanted it? He had plenty to give her. And since no angels were knocking down her door right now…
“Get in the tub with me,” she said.
By the great void Beneath, this woman worked fast. “I’m not sure I do bubbles.”
She parted the thick froth and pushed some over the tub sides. Raising her hands above her chest, she dribbled water from her fingers. It slid down the insides of her arms and melted away more glistening bubbles at her shoulders and chest.
The sight of her gorgeous wet breasts, half-concealed at water level, quickened Ashur’s fingers to his zipper. He had to ease the tight jeans down or risk scraping his erection with the metal zipper. In biblical times the clothing had been much less confining. He looked forward to letting everything hang loose.
Six’s tongue teased at her plump lower lip. Her dancing, bright eyes fixed on his crotch, her delight growing as much as his hardness. He stepped from the pants and straightened, naked, stretching back his shoulders and displaying himself for her approval.
Pride, thy mortal sin is mine to own.
“That,” she whispered, “is amazing.”
Of course it was. But he didn’t say so. He could feign humbleness with the best.
He stepped into the warm water and sat at the end opposite Six. Water splashed over the sides, sluicing away the remaining bubbles. The room smelled like lavender fields, and it felt great to settle into the hot water. His muscles softened. Ashur let out a satisfied murmur.
The luxury of self-indulgence generally manifested in physical activity, not this languorous melting of tension. He liked it.
Six swished forward and moved up to kneel over him, knees to either side of his thighs. Water glistened on her lean body. Her high breasts teased near his mouth. The wicked water sprite enchanted him with her supernatural beauty.
Ashur slicked his hands up her sides. Bubbles popped and burst in renewed fragrance. She did not sit down on him, which was good, because that would be too much, too fast. Right now he wanted to admire every bit of her.
“Your skin is like wet silk,” he said. “I have not felt something so exquisite. Ever.”
“Or in a very long time.” She dipped her head to kiss his upper lip.
“No. Ever.”
He plunged his tongue into her warm mouth, skating along her lips and the porcelain beauty of her teeth. Slow and tender wouldn’t serve. He needed to enter her, to claim her and make his mark.
Too long he had been kept from this pleasure.
No longer.
Her moans spurred him to kiss her harder, bruising his want upon her flesh. Her fingernails clawed into his shoulders, trailing dribbles of water down his back.
Yes, torture me sweetly. I need it. It is what I thrive upon.
The hard beads of her nipples slicked across his chest and he broke from the kiss to suckle them. She reacted to the new touch by thrusting back her head and gripping the tub sides.
Her heart pulsed beneath his fingers and he wanted to eat it away, own it. He had no pulse. She could become his heartbeat.
“That’s so good,” she said on a gasp. “Yes, suck me hard. I want to give myself to you, Ashur.”
Tightly he gripped her rib cage, holding her where he needed her. No escape now. This union had begun. Whether right or wrong, it mattered little to him. He simply needed to devour it all.
She swayed back, breaking the connection he eagerly sought. Six slid her groin against his loins. She wanted him to touch her there. Words were not needed. He read the command in her parted lips, her softened gaze.
Drawing his fingers down her mons, he noted she shaved a unique pattern and pushed against her spine to tilt up her torso so he could inspect. “Curves?”
“You like?”
“I do. Do you like this?” He slipped a finger inside her and she clenched him tightly. He moaned. “Mercy, I do.”
“I like every way you touch me, Ashur. It burns in the best way.”
She moved upon his finger, finding a rhythm that pleased her. Ashur massaged her breast with his other hand. He tickled the finger embedded within her forward against her inner wall. That move ignited a noticeable tremor in her body. She was close to coming.
“Another,” she said. “Two fingers. Please.”
He obliged. Her demand set his black heart to a curious flutter. The stolen souls were privy to his pleasure. Let them revel in the indulgence. It was but a small reward for their imprisonment.
A muscle twinged in his shoulder. Ashur winced. The memory of torture would not defeat his quest for pleasure. He didn’t care what he’d suffered for his betrayal. This was no sin. This was carnal indulgence at its finest.
“Ashur!” She came at his command, calling out and thrusting back her head as her body shuddered upon his. She lunged forward and bracketed his face, kissing him deeply. Tasting him, eating him, devouring him.
“That was so good,” she said, breathlessly. “Now it’s your turn. I need to feel you inside me. All of your amazing length and width.”
“Then put me inside you,” he gasped harshly. “Now.”
She gripped his cock with a determined possession. Their skin slicked and slid against each other’s. Bubbles floated in the air, shimmering as they captured the moonlight. As he entered her, her inner walls squeezed him so tightly Ashur thought he couldn’t possibly make it in the entire length. But he did, and she rocked upon him, creating a dance only they knew the steps to.
The ecstasy was immeasurable. Each time she moved down she sheathed him fully, then she drew forward to glide him slowly out until only the tip of him was grasped tightly by her. The buildup of orgasm clutched his core. The stolen souls shuddered to anticipate his success.
He gripped her hips and quickened her pace, pistoning himself inside her until he could not hold back. Calling out, Ashur surrendered to the intense rapture no angel could know. Only he, a dark demon, could indulge in so wicked a treat.
Six’s hands bracketed his head, holding him there, riding his tremors. And when she dipped her head to press her forehead to his, she whispered softly, “My name is Eden.”
Chapter 19
Ashur gasped and uttered her name after she’d said it. It came out like a prayer one whispers swiftly in dire circumstances.
Eden wasn’t sure he’d completely comprehended that she’d just told him her name, because he’d been mid-climax when he’d said it. Wel
l, now it was out there.
Three orgasms and a migration to the bedroom later, and now they lay on the rumpled sheets, heads toward the foot rail and toes pointing into the pillows. Eden glided her hands up his arms, pinning them above his head. He allowed her the easy capture. He’d already had his way with her. Now it was her turn.
Lavender tainted their skin and seeped into her senses, lulling her between orgasms. She laved her tongue down his abs, exploring each ridge as if a sand surfer skimming the dunes. His odd belly button fascinated her. It was a perfect circle, filled with a single coil. She wondered about it. If he had been forged—whatever that meant—he may not have come from maternal beginnings.
That thought bothered her, so Eden quickly averted her attention to the dark hairs trailing down his loins. His cock grew mighty and hard, pulsing against her breasts as she moved lower. She pressed her breasts over it and he groaned. His fingers slid through her hair, as he gently made her understand he was willing to receive what she intended to give.
She licked him and took him into her mouth. Such control she brandished by the stroke of her tongue. She could reduce this man, a powerful demon, to wanting growls and, quickly enough, body-shaking tremors.
At this moment she owned him. He belonged to no other woman but her. And that provoked her wicked grin as she mounted him. He came powerfully, bucking up deeper inside her and clutching the bedsheets as tightly as his jaw.
“You’re mine, demon,” she purred. Working herself upon his shaft, she found her sweet spot inside and massaged it with the hot tip of him. “All mine.”
And when she came, it bound the two of them in a peculiar blending of species and ideals, desires and needs. Ashur gave her something she had never had. Raw, uninhibited sex. A reason to enjoy life again. The truth of her insane dreams. And a desperate desire to keep this gorgeous hunk of lover who had rode into her life as the rescuing hero.
“Promise you’ll protect me?” she whispered.
“Always,” he said on a sigh.
Zaqiel left the dancer against the wall, sighing as she came and gripping for hold on the nearby iron railing so she wouldn’t collapse. He turned and stalked away through the strobe-lit darkness, zipping his fly. Though he’d only been walking the earth a few days, he’d quickly learned sex with any human woman was very doable.
