by Alisa Woods
Leksander’s face was a torment to see. “The pregnancy is six weeks. After that, we can—”
She stopped his words with her fingers. “There may be no after. You know this.”
“I can’t think…” He swallowed. “I won’t lose you.”
She nodded. “And I will fight to the death anyone who wants to harm our child.” She threw a glance at her blade, tarnished and shoved in a corner of the cave. It still was covered with the tar of the demon she slayed while freeing Leksander from its grip. “But I don’t even have a decent blade. The wards will protect us from anything immortal, but eventually, we must leave. Return to the keep. It’s a better safehold. And I will need a better weapon. It is the transit that will be most risky. We should make a plan to ensure success.”
“Of course.” Mercifully, the torment was gone from his face, and that cool intellect she prized among his many good traits returned. “I’m just not sure how to accomplish it. The fae have shown they will stop at nothing to stop the treaty from renewing. Normally, the treaty would protect us both—me as a prince of the House of Smoke, you as my mate—but Zephan’s managed to threaten my brother’s mates before me, so I don’t put anything past him. And because you’re angel… everything is different.”
She nodded, a chill washing through her body. She was uniquely in danger, for many reasons. She snuggled closer into his arms and regretted that she choose to clothe for this discussion. “Shadow angels care not for the treaty. They will strike as they please, kill whom they wish. And my father’s rival, Elyon, has a lust for blood and chaos that would be served by my destruction.”
Leksander’s coolness collapsed into anger. “As far as I’m concerned, the entire angel realm is a threat. Your father is still shadow, and I don’t care if Markos is an angel of light. He has his own motives for things.”
Erelah blinked and leaned back. “Markos would never hurt an angeling of light.”
But Leksander’s scowl didn’t go away. “He wants us to mate, but not because of the treaty. Or the House of Smoke. Or even because he cares about you. He visited me, gave me a blessing…” He stopped at her surprised look. “Yeah, I know, right? A blessing. Because it’s fucking important to him that our mating be successful, and he thought that would help. He said it would be a ‘new day for angels’ if you and I were to mate and you stayed in the light.” He slid his hands back to holding her shoulders and peered into her eyes. “I don’t give a fuck if you’re light or shadow or somewhere in between. You’re mine. I love you.” He slipped a hand to her belly, which was as flat as it had been the night before, even if the tiny spark of their child burned glory within it. “And this is our child. He belongs to the House of Smoke, not Markos’s Dominion. I don’t care what all this means for angelkind. I only care about you. And us. Our family.”
His words made her heart swell, and the joy was threatening to break out into a smile once again. “I know,” she said simply. “And you’re right to be concerned. This baby…” Her hand covered Leksander’s at her belly. “The angels will want him, both light and shadow. My own father, a pure angel, couldn’t manage to stay in the light through a mating. And he didn’t carry the child himself.” Emotion welled up in her, the kind of surge that had battered her all night—pleasure, yes, and joy too, but also a terror at losing everything she had suddenly gained. Fear was a stranger to her. Once she feared the Fall, her own personal decadence winning out, but now… now there was so much more at stake. So much more to lose. And she was mere angeling. If her father, a True Angel, couldn’t remain in the light… if she were to fall to shadow again during the pregnancy… or the pregnancy itself were to fail… those all seemed too likely.
“Hey,” Leksander’s voice was soft, and his touch on her cheeks even softer. “It’s going to be okay.”
But that wasn’t Truth, and Erelah wanted only Truth between them. “I may die, Leksander.”
“Don’t say that.” It was causing him pain, and she regretted that.
“I’m not afraid to die myself—”
“Erelah.”
“If the choice is me or the child, Leksander, you must save our dragonling.”
“Stop.” Tears glassed his eyes. He pulled her in for a kiss. And another. “I will make a plan for us to safely return to the keep. I’ll do everything to protect you both. But please… Erelah… don’t speak of your death. I can’t bear it.”
Her heart ached. For all the danger she was in, it was Leksander who stood the greatest risk. She was no fool; he was dragon with enemies both angel and fae, who were much more powerful. It made her heart want to leap from her body and sacrifice itself for him. Yet that was impossible, too. There were literally weeks of danger ahead—six to be precise—and already her heart was breaking because of it.
He was holding her face and nuzzling her hair and murmuring his I love you’s to comfort her. This man. Her True Love for him was her armor and her shield. It would carry her through because nothing so righteous could be allowed to perish. A wave of joy returned, bringing a heat riding along on its wings. She had a sudden need to be next to him, skin-to-skin, spilling her burning love out of her chest, showing it through acts and touches and kisses and sweet, sweet heat.
She magicked away her plain clothes, leaving herself bare everywhere.
Leksander’s sharp intake of breath spiked heat through her.
Then she unfurled her wings—still snow white—and he exhaled a long, shaky breath. Then he grabbed hold of her, pressing the length of her body to his, and kissed her deeply. His tongue was cool against the immortal heat burning inside her, and its probing of her mouth was both deliciously cool and flushing heat between her legs. His cock had sprung to life again, trapped now between their bodies, but rigid and beckoning. She had promised him sexual acts of his choosing… but first, she longed to have a different part of him in her mouth.
As soon as he broke the kiss, she dropped to her knees. Before he could protest, she had taken the tip of him into her mouth and sucked hard. He gasped satisfactorily, then cursed, then grabbed hold of her hair right at the scalp to guide her. But she’d been taking notes through the night of what pleased him most, so she knew just where to slide her tongue, just how fast to stroke, and how to bring her hand up to help with the thick, deliciously masculine length. She couldn’t take him in too far, but the part she could…
He groaned and pulled her head away from her task. “Stand up,” he commanded.
The growling restraint in his voice spiked an ache between her legs. She scrambled to her feet, making sure her wings were unfurled to the full extent the cave would allow. He still had hold of her hair.
“You said any act I preferred.”
“Yes.” She was already breathing hard.
Still holding her hair with one hand, Leksander used his other to conjure a flurry of wide black ribbons that flew around her. They lashed her wrists and ankles and chest, but all with a whisper of silky smoothness.
“What is—” Before she could finish, she was yanked off her feet. But she didn’t go far. The ribbons pulled tight, leaving her spread-eagled in the air. A harness wrapped her chest, framing her breasts with the support of the ribbons, which also trailed a line up to the rocky ceiling where they were anchored with a hook. Her wrists were likewise bound by tethers to the ceiling, her arms pulled wide. Her legs were tied at the ankle, spread wide, the black ribbon securing her to the floor, even as her toes dangled a couple inches above its rocky bumps.
She was exposed, vulnerable to whatever Leksander’s intentions. And the lust-filled look on his face said he intended… much.
She struggled a little against the restraints to test them. She could easily break free, but not in a million years would she break her promise to Leksander. The twitching brushed her extended wings against the ceiling and brought forth a low growling from Leksander’s chest.
“Hold still.” He reached out to pinch her nipple. “Or this will take even longer.”
&nb
sp; Heat was already gushing between her legs. Whatever he intended, she fully wanted him to start. But she obediently held still. Truth be told, it reminded her of some Penances her cohort chose, paying for some infraction by immobilization. It cultivated Humility and Patience, Virtues she struggled with as well.
Leksander slowly worked his way behind her, his hand exploring every crevice of her body along the way. Then she felt his hands and mouth on her wings, trailing his fingers through her feathers, nipping kisses on the blood ones—the ones that carried sensation and that he seemed particularly fond of. She struggled for stillness, his touch maddeningly heating her up while also being slightly ticklish. He crossed her back with feather-light kisses then attended, even slower it seemed to her, to the other wing. By the time he slid around to her front, she was trembling with need. She bit her lip to keep from crying out for him to touch her… for real, and with the expert pleasuring he was capable of. Instead, he continued to torment her with light touches and flicks of his tongue all over her breasts, her belly, her arms, and then legs. When he was feasting on her toes, she nearly cried out with the aching tremor running through her.
She kept it in but only through gritted teeth.
She was certain he had touched every single inch of her body… save one.
Finally, he kneeled before her, leading with his artful tongue and plunging it into her sex. Then she did cry out—with relief as much as anything. As he moved with the sure skill he had in pleasuring her, she couldn’t help the whimpers that escaped her mouth. They only seemed to spur him on, the flicking of his tongue becoming more rapid, his fingers joining in the torment. Just as she felt the power of her climax gathering, the quivering of her flesh starting… he stopped. Moving away from her sex entirely, he slid his hands behind her and up to her wings, teasing the sensitive feathers once more.
He was nearly face-to-face with her, a wicked grin on his face as his hard body pressed against her breasts and belly. His cock speared into her just above her sex, inches too far to bring her the pleasure she was dying for.
“What do you want, angel girl?” His smile was pure lascivious pleasure.
“Release,” she breathed.
“I’m not going to release you,” he said, eyeing the ribbons, although that wasn’t what she meant. And he knew it. He trailed his hands through her feathers. “Not yet.”
“Please,” she begged. He knew what she wanted. And she understood this game, or at least, she saw the way he was playing it. But that didn’t stop the need from leaking into her voice.
He chuckled. “Oh, I like it when you beg.” Then he brought his hands forward and lavished attention on her breasts, sucking and licking and pinching until she felt a quivering rush of an orgasm building simply from that. Just as she was getting close, he stepped away from her body. His gaze danced over her form, grin wicked on his face.
She growled in frustration. “You would make an excellent Master of Penance,” she complained.
His eyes flashed. “Oh, we’ll definitely talk more about that later.” Then he knelt in front of her again, and she cried out even before his tongue hit her inflamed and sensitive nub. She rushed at her climax, and once again, he stopped—this time, just pulling away momentarily, then returning for more. Again and again, the torment continued until she was simply babbling, begging, crying out for him to finish.
When he pulled away and stood, she thought she might not endure it. She might have to break the restraints—they were tissue and magic, hardly holding her against her squirming. Then she would blast him across the cave and have her way with him. Even as that fantasy spooled out in her mind, he magicked her restraints to move. Just a small movement, though, just enough to lower her toes to the floor and allow her to stand, legs still spread, arms and wings still raised.
Then he pressed his body against hers, the thick length of his cock like a rod of steel between them. His breathing was as labored as hers. He threaded his fingers into her hair and fisted his hand there. His other hand slipped behind her, grabbing hold of her shoulder and pulling her down slightly, keeping the restraints taut. He dipped down to position his cock at her entrance. She nearly cried out for joy, but then she imagined him taking her, thrusting into her, only to stop once again.
His lips trembled against her breast. “All the things, Erelah. All of it. All the time.” His words were heated whispers that made her sex quiver even harder.
Then he thrust up into her. She screamed. The sudden fullness and the satiation of need were too much. His grunt bounced off the walls, then he thrust again and again. Each time, she cried out, joy mixed with heat tossed with need. A swell of tension filled her, lighting up every nerve in her body, rushing her toward her peak. Just when she was sure he would stop again, he growled a deep and guttural sound and kept thrusting, bringing her blessedly over the top.
Her body exploded with pleasure.
It wracked her, trembling and thrashing and bucking with it, pulling at her restraints in jerks and twitches, her angelsong crashing out onto the walls. Leksander’s cry as he came was likewise wild and ragged, his thrusts even more unleashed. She came and came, and it seemed like it would just go on forever, but eventually, the pulses of pleasure slowed. Each one, each small aftershock, was still an earthquake, but just a tremor of pleasure, not an earth-shattering one.
She could hardly catch her breath.
Leksander held her, still buried, but his forehead was bowed, fallen forward against her chest. His heavy pants coated her skin.
“That might…” he breathed. “That could actually kill me.”
Erelah was limp in her harness. She had no words to share.
Leksander looked up with worry. “Are you all right, my love?”
She had to lick her lips to respond—they’d grown parched. “You can do that any time you wish. No need to ask first.”
The smile grew slowly on his face, but it kept growing until she thought it might break.
Then a voice sounded behind Leksander. “Well, this is interesting.”
She and Leksander both jolted. Leksander whipped his head around to look, but Erelah had already seen him—Leonidas. Leksander’s brother and a prince of the House of Smoke. He stood perched at the mouth of the cave, the toes of his boots barely holding him to the ledge just outside the wards. His eyebrows were arched, taking in the full measure of her naked body, strung up and splayed out. If she weren’t so sated with pleasure, she might be embarrassed.
“Can’t say I pegged you for this,” Leonidas said to his brother with a smirk. “But I approve.”
Leksander growled and conjured a curtain of privacy between them.
But the moment had come.
Time for them to leave.
“I don’t like this.” Leksander stood just inside the wards protecting the cave.
“We’ll be fast.” Leonidas glowered at him, barely keeping balance on the lip outside.
“Four dragons. Four packages,” his brother Lucian said, likewise clinging by the edge of his boots to the rocky ledge next to Leonidas. “Enough to last you a week. Maybe two. In and out in under thirty seconds.”
“More than enough time for a shadow angel to pop up,” Leksander replied, arms folded. Angels and angelings—hell, the fae for that matter—traveled by inter-dimensional doorways. And they went wherever they damn well pleased, invading each other’s Dominions at will. That was a death sentence, but still. Leksander didn’t like the idea of lowering the wards protecting the cave… even for thirty seconds.
Lucian sighed. “We’ll time it just right, and we’ve got a dozen dragons on guard. Any angels will have to plow through those first. By then you can get the wards back up. And it could be faster than thirty seconds. Maybe half that.” They’d been working out the logistics all morning, and the sun was blazing high in the sky.
It was the right solution for right now—deliver some supplies, mainly food and water, then work out a larger plan to move Erelah and the baby to the keep.
But when it came down to actually executing, Leksander was struggling to bring himself to do it. To take the risk. The first of many. He knew every step of this would be risky, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
“Why are we waiting?” Erelah asked, coming up behind him. They were both fully dressed in conjured clothes—her in an angel toga, but a more warrior kind, less revealing, and him in some simple jeans and t-shirt. If he had to fight, he would shift anyway.
“Thirty seconds,” he said. They really hadn’t gotten it any shorter, no matter how much he bargained or how much they practiced. “It’s enough time for almost anything to happen.” What he wanted was to already have Erelah back at the keep, naked, and in his arms. And given she could move through inter-dimensional doorways just as well as the rest of angelkind, it wasn’t like they would have to fly back. Most of the time would be in raising and lowering wards. Not a lot of time, but some. Just like shuffling in some supplies to their cave, which was uncomfortable and dusty—it was meant for death, not a six-week stay while growing a dragonling.
She held up her tarnished angel blade. It still glistened black from the demon essence she had drawn into it, almost like the blade had been broken by it. That same demon—the one Erelah drew out of him and into herself—had nearly broken her.
“Once you lower the wards,” she said, “Markos may hear my blade calling. But if he comes, I have need of a new blade anyway.”
