Claimed by my Dark Angel: A Forbidden Paranormal Romance (Saints to Sinners Book 1)

by Fiona Darling

  Besides, shifters possess a sort of primal, protective instinct over their mate. I can’t imagine the archangel looking kindly on the angels who put love before their obligations to Paradise.

  What a bitch it is when fate intervenes and makes a human their fated one. Most of my people have a sick sort of obsession with chastity. They worship it, and those who have sullied themselves are cast away. What a load of bullshit, bullshit that I bought into. Now I can’t wait to shed my virtue and drown myself in Sophie’s divinity.

  Sinning feels more natural than chastity when I with her.

  Lucky me, I’m already bound for Hell because of Elise’s death. Her murder. I’ll make the Tacoma pack pay for their crimes. Their names are written all over this, and I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to see it. All it took was Sophie to pull me into the light.

  Sophie. I’ll paint the night with the blood of wolves and fill the air with the songs of their screams if she asks it of me.

  I run a thumb over her button lip, giving it a firm yet gentle stroke. She purses her lips to kiss the calloused finger and then, gives it a playful nip.

  God damn.

  All it took was a fucking kiss from this goddess to realize I don’t give a shit about getting my wings back, not when heaven is pinned against me and the wall.

  She’s my chance at redemption all right, but now I know the archangel has nothing to do with it.

  Even if Sophie doesn’t know my true nature, I know she feels this insatiable harmony between us. My keen sight can see her so clearly through the pitch-black that paints my studio. She wears the thunderstruck expression of a woman who’s quite suddenly and irreconcilably in love.

  There’s no resisting it. As stubborn as we both clearly are, we’ve fallen into passions embrace, and soon, much will follow.

  For the first time in months, I feel…happy. I’d call it a blessing, but this miracle certainly didn’t come from home.

  “Gideon,” Sophie tests out my name on her lips for the first time. My chest warms, and my inner protector yearns to hear my name from her mouth in a different pitch, one of pleasure. I want to hear her moan it, to cry out for me at the peak of ecstasy while I’m buried deep inside.

  “Sophie.” It may be dark because of the damn electric bill, but my angel eyes slice through the night with all the ease of daylight. I can see her perfectly, the way her gray eyes are wide and scanning oblivion in search of me. Her lips are full, and they glisten just so with the wetness of our kiss.

  I plan to cover her in so much more of me.

  Oh, the delightful, wicked, and sinful things I’ll do to her. For once in my life, I have something to hold on to, to fight for, to emerge from my drunken slumber for. She’s mine, and to further demonstrate that fact, I gently but firmly grasp her chin and pull her into me, feathering my lips over hers in the most singular of forbidden kisses.

  “What is this?” Sophie gasps into my mouth. Her breath washes over me, hot and sweet.

  “A dark and wonderful magic.”

  She shivers in my embrace, the goosebumps on her skin scraping against mine.

  “Are you some sort of…” She hesitates, the pallor of her cheeks tinting to a pleasant pink hue. I’m some sort of something, she’s too clever to think I’m human. I can’t help wonder what possibilities are turning in her mind.

  “Go ahead, guess,” I say through a diabolical grin that I’m thankful she can’t see.

  “A wizard?” Her tone quivers, like she’s embarrassed to suggest such a thing.

  I chuckle, drawing my arms tight around the curves of her waist.

  “No, the magic between us is something far more common than that of a wizard’s incantation. It’s mysterious and wonderful, and until I laid eyes on you, I believed it to be a lie created by card companies and trapped souls desperate for a reason to hold on to something.”

  “I-I wish I could see you…”

  I pull away from her but delicate fingers grasp at me, silently pleading for me to stay.

  “I’m just getting candles, I have a few stashed away here.”

  She snorts. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy to own candles.”

  “I guess I’m not. They were a house warming present from an old friend.” When I moved, to cheer me up, Damien insisted on participating in the human tradition of supplying a gift to a friend who’s relocated residences. I’d asked for a bottle of Jack, but instead, I got a few lavender-scented candles.

  I stoop down and start digging through the cardboard boxes scattered around my new studio. I should be embarrassed by the state of my new residence. It’s a drastic difference between my old, spacious condo in Capitol Hill where my master bathroom was bigger than all 400 feet of this place. A guardian’s stipend from Paradise was a benefit I never truly appreciated until my first check as a fallen had arrived, and the lack of zeros would be enough to make a beggar blush.

  The sound of rustling cardboard and clinking pots and pans and other rubbish I had thrown haphazardly into boxes fills the space. I hear Sophie’s soft footsteps approach from behind. I turn to look at her fumbling through the dark with her arms stretched out before her.

  “How can you see through the dark?”

  Shit. I don’t want to lie to her, but I’m nervous to tell her the truth. Telling your ward that you’re an angel is one of three capital crimes a guardian can commit. Never leave your ward in the face of danger, never tell your ward you’re their guardian, and never bed your ward. Committing any of them is enough to get your wings ripped from you and cursed to live a mortal life. I’d broken that first with Elise, and with Sophie, it was inevitable I’d break the last two.

  I don’t give a shit about Paradise’s rules anymore. The only thing that makes me nervous is telling my mate that I was her sister’s guardian angel and that she’s now dead because I failed her.

  I find the candles I’m looking for, light them, and set them down around the apartment. I don’t like how the fake floral fragrance laces the air, trying to mask the mouthwatering scent of my mate. But the smell is excusable as they fill my apartment with a hearty orange glow, their flickering flames sending the shadows of boxes and the figure of the goddess in my living room dancing on the bare walls.

  She’s found her way to my red, velvet sofa. The expensive piece of furniture fills up much of the living room and looks out of place in the cramped studio apartment, but the gorgeous woman looks right at home nestled among its plush cushions.

  “Gideon?” She cocks her head, blonde lashes fluttering.

  “Hmm?”

  “You were about to tell me why you can see in the dark?”

  I flatten my palm over my skull, combing my fingers through my hair. “I can see better than most in the dark. Call it a gift.”

  She looks fucking delicious on my couch, which, at the moment, is also functioning as my bed. The crackling fire from the candles wraps around her curves, painting her pallid skin in flickering shadows and warm, mirthful light. She possesses Elise’s beauty, but the grit of life hasn’t dulled her rough edges or doused the flame in her eye.

  I can tell life hasn’t always been kind to her. My kind has a sixth sense for that sort of this. But unlike Elise, she’s built up a tough skin and a resolve sharp enough to cut. It’s one of the reasons she had the balls to drive all the way from Portland to confront me.

  She tilts her head, golden hair spilling over her bare shoulders. She’s wearing a flowy blouse that reveals just enough skin to drive me mad with billowing sleeves trimmed with lace. Elise would never have dressed in such a feminine way. Sweats and a stained hoodie were her uniform.

  “Can you see in the dark because of the contacts?”

  “Contacts?”

  “Yes, your eyes are black. That can’t be natural.”

  I offer her a weak smile and no further explanation. When I was a guardian, they were amber, and it was easy to hold a woman’s gaze, always with undertones of desire in their own eyes. If I catch lin
gering looks now, it’s out of wonder and fear.

  But Sophie gazes at me in a way no one ever has before.

  She pats the space of the sofa next to her, signaling for me to come sit. I obey and seat myself down next to her. She reaches out and rests a hand on my knee, her expression shifting to one of complete seriousness. “Thank you for saving my life.”

  “I’ll do it again and again until I’m lying dead in the ground.”

  She laughs, gray orbs lighting up with her laughter in the candlelight. “Are you sure you’re not just saying that to get in my pants?”

  “I’m sure. If you’d like, we can figure out who killed your sister. I’ll take out the entire Tacoma shifter gang, and we can get on to our happily ever afterward, if that suits you. Nothing needs to happen tonight.”

  My cock aches at the prospect of not giving this goddess an offering in the form of flesh and sin right here and now on my floor. But there’s no need to rush if she’s unsure. There will be plenty of time to rut like rabbits later… Maybe after she discovers my true nature.

  If I can wait that long.

  Her gaze sweeps over me through her screen of blonde bangs, regarding me in a way that makes my manhood harden.

  Fuck her, my inner self grits in my ear. Tear off her clothes, bare her body, and plunge yourself deep inside that sweet pussy. She wants you. Can’t you smell that? She wants you bad.

  No, not yet. Too soon.

  Are you fucking kidding? She’s your fated one. Claim her.

  It’s impossible to hide my rock-hard erection — in these jeans, it can be spotted from the space needle if we’d been outside. With her hand still on my knee, her fingers curve around my thigh and slowly slide up towards my groin.

  See? She wants you. Make. Her. Yours.

  I arch my head back, a string of curses slipping out under my breath as her hand comes to rest on my cock. It’s hard to resist my inner-self when Sophie seems to be on his side. Why wait? The scent of her arousal is heavy in the air, lacing with the lavender to create a combination that makes my mouth water.

  A primal, ravenous instinct I’ve learned to bury roars to life and wants to take her against this wall right here and now. I’ve never been with a woman, and I want to find an end to that inside Sophie tonight. But if I indulge in her, she’ll think it’s just a part of a deal. When I have all of her underneath me, I want her to know what we are; fated for each other.

  Sophie’s warm voice, savoring my name on her tongue, soothes me, pulling me from all the sinful scenarios on how tonight might end, playing through my mind.

  “Happily ever after?” she murmurs. “I’m not sure those even exist.”

  “I think they do. Especially for us.”

  Her full lips part, and I ache to kiss them. “We’ve only just met.”

  “Blame it on the magic.”

  Before the words fully leave my mouth, her fingers give a squeeze over my jeans where my cock threatens to bust through the denim. Shit, this girl makes me hard. The corner of her mouth curls into a devilish grin, and fuck me if I haven’t fallen head over heels for her in the hour that I’ve known her.

  Dark magic indeed.

  This time, it’s her leaning in for a kiss. Our lips meet and the warmth of her seems to seep into my lips, down my throat, and right into my heart. Her hand begins to slide over the length of my shaft and my hands are knotted in her hair, clutching her head as I release a guttural groan into her mouth.

  “Sophie,” I place my hand over hers, stilling her stroking motions for just a moment. She must hear the hesitation in my voice because she flashes me a reassuring smile, one so cute I want to devour it whole.

  “It’s okay, I want to.”

  I can practically taste her arousal on my tongue, her feminine musk making my mouth water and my dick as hard as a rock in her hand.

  I’m filled with an overwhelming need to sink into her sweet heat, to feel her tremble around my cock in ecstasy as I slowly feed myself to her inch by inch.

  Earlier tonight, I was a hopeless mess of a fallen angel, hellbent on driving myself to an early grave out of spite and loathing for my new mortal life.

  Now, my heart is alive and singing. How did I ever think life was complete without her?

  I might have thought I had it all with my lavish condo on the hill and my wings and a title that brought more money than a man should ever need, from a place humans pray to know of should they be so fortunate. It’s all overrated.

  The only thing that matters anymore is Sophie. I belong with her, inside her. To hell with Paradise’s stupid laws. Sophie is my mate, and I belong with her. Paradise and all their rules about humans and wards and fucking and fated mates can burn in hell.

  Right alongside me.

  Chapter 8

  Sophie

  Holy hell.

  Gideon is a sexy as sin package wrapped in tattooed, chiseled perfection.

  At twenty-five years old, I’ve never done more than kiss a man. But to call the boys I’ve kissed men with this gritty god of masculinity before me, making me melt with just a look, would be generous.

  I’m still reeling from the rapid-fire events of the last hour. In a single evening, my life’s been turned on its head. I took a week off from work and drove from Portland, telling myself it was all for Elise. To say I was a bad sister would be an understatement. We hardly knew each other. The one time she reached out for help, I turned her away.

  Now she’s dead.

  I didn’t murder Elise, but I carry heavy guilt on my shoulders that might rival the shame I’d bear had I been the one to pull the trigger. Because I could have prevented her death. If only I’d somehow found a way to get her that money she’d asked for, she might still be alive. I can’t change the past. So, rather than look back and lament for what was, what could have been, I’m here in Seattle, trying to be a half-decent sister. Maybe then, I can move on.

  But this dark and devastating stranger of her past was not a part of the plan. Gideon’s not supposed to happen. But my heart doesn’t give a shit about the plan. This is happening, and if I can find who murdered my twin and have a taste of the man who’ll help me reap my revenge, then who am I to complain.

  It might seem silly for a bartender not to drink, but I’ve never really had a pallet for the stuff. Probably has something to do with my mom, who was an insufferable junkie and a drunk. But I lap up all the intoxicating desire in which he lavishes me. He tastes of honey and liquor, and now I understand why the stuff is so addicting.

  Feeling numb is better than feeling pain. Gideon is more than just a lay to help me forget the pain I still hold in my heart after Elise’s passing. In his eye, I see similar guilt that consumes and festers in his heart. Most women would keep their distance between this man with the body of a god and eyes that contain all the sadness and anger in the world.

  But I, like a moth to a flame, find myself drawn to my own destruction. I see him suffering an affliction so similar yet…different all at once. Gideon is otherworldly, with a heartbreaking beauty that nearly brought me to my knees the first I saw him, and now in a matter of hours after meeting him, I’m sure he’ll have me on my back.

  What’s happening to me? I’m never like this with anyone. I’m never interested in men or what they think they have to offer me. Yet there’s guttural instinct acknowledges that Gideon isn’t just a man. He’s hiding something. I suppose that’s normal for people who’ve been hurt. I’m sure I’ll discover his secrets soon enough. Soon, he’ll discover all of mine.

  For now, I’m enjoying the way my body responds to his touch, the first of many, I have no doubt. A single kiss has reduced me to a puddle of need, and my breathing is ragged and short as I pant into his mouth. My hand hasn’t left his cock, and despite the fact that I haven’t ever touched another, I know he isn’t exactly average size in that department. My pussy trembles as I dare to imagine what it will feel like to have that hard rod of flesh inside me, in a place I’ve never let anyone go,
well, except for my vibrator, Buzz.

  Something tells me Buzz won’t have anything on Gideon’s piece.

  The flickering candlelight crackles and pops in the dark eyes that bore into me with an infernal lust, reducing me to a trembling heap of nerves. My heart and my aching heat are at war with my mind. This is a stranger I’ve met only an hour ago. What’s more, he’s tied up in my sister’s past, and I haven’t the slightest idea where he fits in the puzzle to her murder.

  But he doesn’t feel like a stranger. Something inside me, an alien part of me I never knew was there, is reaching for him.

  I too see the warfare in Gideon’s gaze. He’s looking at me with an earth-shattering hunger that leaves me feeling jarred, but he doesn’t make another move to touch me.

  “W-what do we do now?” I swallow hard. Images of us, tangled on his carpet surrounded by cardboard boxes and lavender candles, hot and heaving with the light dancing over our sweating bodies, flash through my mind. That’s what I want to do now. Gideon issues a guttural growl, jerking me back to reality.

  “We solve a murder.”

  “Right now?” I blink. “I’m not as emotionally scarred as I thought I’d be after nearly being mowed over by a car, then shot at. But I’m not sure I’m ready to tangle with those guys again, especially if they are werewolves. Murder and intrigue sounds like a post-breakfast sort of thing.”

  It might be a trick of the light, but the corner of Gideon’s mouth twitches in the barest hint of a smile. “Post-breakfast it is.”

  A giddy flutter tickles my stomach. Breakfast, together.

  “Do you have a place to stay tonight? Portland isn’t exactly a hop and a skip away.”

  A hop and a skip. The colloquialism sounds strangely foreign coming from this big brute of a man.

  “I was just planning on checking in at the motel 8 or something,” I say, embarrassed to admit my lack of plans. But it’s not like there’s much room in my budget for fancy hotels, shit, I’m just happy to have the cash flow for gas.