Razael

by Alisa Woods

  This continued for hours.

  In Truth, he lost track of time. He was entranced by the gentle rise and fall of her chest. The way her lips sometimes parted slightly, as if she were speaking in her sleep. He watched her eyes move under their lids, some dream world running undercover, playing out a story which quickened her heart and the pace of her breathing. He watched, and though he was sure that he loved her before, somehow this intimacy, this lying-in-wait, made a peculiar love blossom inside him. It was the kind he felt when Elizabeth was alive—when she said some delightful thing with her witty and intelligent mind; when she smiled and teased him for some strangeness he had because he was angel and not human, not that she knew it at the time; when she walked without care, barefoot and joyful, across a meadow of flowers, inviting him to picnic, even though he didn’t eat. Eden was asleep, lying in a bed of white, merely dreaming her dreams and rebuilding her strength, yet somehow every small movement, every sigh, every dreamy turn of her head entranced him just the same. As if she was telling him the story of her, the one he couldn’t see merely by peering into her soul.

  That soul was slowly mending.

  Each time he touched her and delivered a blessing, the dark chasm of it closed a little more. Slowly, he trusted himself to breathe his blessing upon her, first from far away, then closer, then closer still. At last, he was nearly touching lips with her, delivering his soul-healing blessing mouth-to-mouth, soul-to-soul.

  And so when she moved underneath his touch… it startled him.

  He pulled back, but she frowned, and so he slowly bent his lips to hers again, breathing his blessing upon her. This time she returned his breath to him, exhaling in a way that spoke of pleasure and arching up into him. His own breathing stumbled, but he didn’t pull away—couldn’t pull away—not while the sweet length of her body was reaching for him, back arching, lips seeking.

  Then her lips finally reached his, and she gasped.

  Her eyes opened.

  And she shrank back into the bed.

  He instantly pulled back but not before he caught the brief flash of horror in her eyes.

  He was a fool.

  Chapter Ten

  Was she dreaming?

  Razael had practically leaped out of the bed Eden was in and stood beside it, looking shocked. Or maybe embarrassed. Did angels get embarrassed? Her body still thrummed from the dream, and she was light-headed, not at all sure what was real and what was not.

  She had been dreaming. A moment ago. An erotic dream, and a good one—something she didn’t think she was even capable of anymore. She’d been surrounded by light and love and a warm, safe feeling—as if nothing evil could ever touch her again. A handsome man had been gently touching her, loving her, steadily exciting every part of her. His touch was feather-soft and slow, just enough to heat her, and at exactly the right pace. As if he knew her inside and out, loved her more than anything, and wanted only to pleasure her exactly as much as she wanted, and no more. The no more part had her heart thrumming. The gentle sweetness. But he was shy, kept burying his face in her hair and the crook of her neck, not letting her see him. She was aching for more so she’d sought his lips, begging for a kiss—

  And then she’d woken to an angel.

  The heat that ran through her now was shock and anger and shame. “Did you…” Her words choked on a dry throat, so she swallowed as she rose up on her elbow. How had she gotten in this bed? “Did you make me feel that?”

  “Make you feel what?” He looked aghast.

  “That… that pleasure.” She spat out the word. Elyon had done that to her too—made her feel pleasure even when she wanted nothing more than to scream. “Did you do what he did?” The visceral memory brought a chill to her body, even though the room was overly warm. She was still somewhere in hell—same dark crystal walls and floor, only the bed was white and pristine. And her clothes…

  She just stared. She was dressed in fucking white lingerie.

  Razael dropped to his knees next to the bed. “I swear I would never do anything like that monster. Especially to you.” He looked anguished that she would accuse him of something so vile.

  She blinked. Something was wrong. All of this was wrong. Angels did not fall to their knees in front of her. They didn’t beg her forgiveness. Something was off. She was forgetting something…

  It hit her like a physical slap. She actually caved over her belly—her intact belly, a belly that contained a child—as the air was knocked from her lungs.

  She was dead.

  She was dead, her baby was dead… and this… this was her eternal fucking hell.

  “Oh God,” she gasped, struggling for air. “Oh my God, I’m dead.” She could feel the rounding of her belly, just like it was real, but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. She’d seen Elyon rip her baby from her—

  “No,” Razael edged forward, still on his knees. His hands were up, placating. “You’re very much alive, Eden. I promise.”

  She dragged her gaze up to his earnest face. “That’s not possible.” Holy fucking God, she was delusional. She’d gone completely mad. Or she was dead, and somehow she’d been trapped in an afterworld of delusion with an angel. A fucking angel! Why—

  “It’s possible,” Razael said, and a sweet expression filled his face. Like he cared so much… “There’s a lot an angel can do. I can’t bring humans back from the dead, but your soul hadn’t yet left. Or your child’s.” His gaze dropped to her belly, where her hands had bunched up the filmy white fabric of her nightgown.

  Her child. Was it even possible? She looked to him with wide eyes. She was desperate to believe it. But that didn’t make it real. “You…” She shook her head. “How you could heal me? And the baby? There’s no way—” She stopped because he was entreating her with his hands like he wanted to reach out and touch her but was holding himself back.

  “Let me explain.” His eyes beseeched her.

  She pressed her lips together and waited. If this was a dream, at least this angel was acting… kind. Like he truly cared.

  He gestured with both hands toward her belly, again not touching, but gently patting the air as if it were her baby bump. “I healed both you and your child of your physical injuries.” He looked up to her face. “But you were so near death. Do you remember the blessing I gave you before?”

  She nodded, carefully. Because all of a sudden, her heart was lifting. When he had done that, it had pulled her back from the brink of despair…

  He hesitated. A small frown danced across his forehead. “It took a lot of blessing to bring you back, Eden. To keep your body healing, coming back from the trauma. To help the baby resettle and join with you once again. To keep both of your souls anchored in your bodies.” He gave a small shake of his head. “I’m sorry, but I had to touch you to deliver it—just on your belly and your cheek. And then…” He stopped, looking distressed. “The normal way…” He stopped again. “The standard way to deliver such a life kiss—the kind that resurrects and restores—is to breathe the blessing upon you. An exchange of breath, deep into the soul.” His face twisted. “Eden, I’m sorry. Your soul was still broken, and it was my urgent desire to see you healed…” He trailed off, agony on his face.

  But it was clear to her now. The dream. That was her mind making sense of all the blessing he was flooding into her—she knew what it felt like from before. Life. Energy. Enervation. Her body was so starved for that, her mind turned it into love—and a really hot makeout. He hadn’t tried to manipulate her like Elyon. She had been at Razael’s mercy, and all he had done was heal her… not hurt her.

  Tears stung the backs of her eyes as she gazed at him. “When I awoke, you were breathing the blessing into me.”

  “Yes.” He seemed half relieved and half still anguished. “And when you responded and rose up… I should have pulled away sooner. I didn’t mean for us to… to touch.” Then he bent his head all the way to the floor, his forehead touching, his arms flung to the side. “Please forgive me, Eden.
”

  He was… she searched for the word. Prostrating. He was prostrating himself before her, asking for her forgiveness. She just stared for a long moment, but he was motionless, waiting for her benediction to rise. She blinked.

  Either she was dead, and this was all a dream… or Razael had saved her life and was now desperately apologizing for an inadvertent kiss that wasn’t even a kiss.

  “I forgive you.” Then she touched him, just a light finger brush on his shoulder. She didn’t even know why. Maybe because of the tears still spiking the backs of her eyes.

  He jolted with her touch, then straightened up quickly, eyes wide.

  “But I should be thanking you,” she said, her hand caressing her belly. “For saving us.”

  The anguish was back on his face. “I’m the one who failed to protect you in the first place. And I shouldn’t have touched you, not like that. I should have known better, with the torments Elyon must have put you through. The last thing I want is to add to that.”

  She frowned a little. Could he really be this good? Her old doubts bubbled up, but she shoved them away. This man—this creature—no matter what else he may do, he had rescued her and her baby from the edge of death.

  “You didn’t add to it,” she said, and that seemed to bring a little relief to his face. She bit her lip and sat up a little further. Her body ached, but in a good way—like she’d lain still too long, and now she was stretching, moving again.

  “Are you all right?” Razael moved quickly to his feet, his hands out to catch her like he thought she might fall right off the bed.

  She did feel a little woozy, but she managed to swing her feet off and sit on the edge. He stood, watching her with great concern. She motioned for him to sit next to her, and his eyes widened again. But then he carefully took a seat. She was dressed in some filmy white negligee with sheer fabric that barely covered her breasts then skimmed over her belly before flaring into a more solid white sheeting that billowed around her feet. He wore a black toga that draped over one shoulder, baring half his perfectly-sculpted chest. They were half naked on a bed together, yet she felt no danger, not even a little. She’d never felt more safe in her life.

  His eyes were searching her face, waiting for something from her.

  She met his curious gaze. “When I was with Elyon…” She stopped to swallow down the surge of sourness those words brought. She took a breath and blew it out and started over. “When I was his prisoner, he forced me to have sex.”

  Razael looked like she’d stabbed him with a blade. Not surprised, just wounded. “I know,” he said. “You need not speak of it.”

  “I do.” She cleared her throat because it was closing. “I do just because… because I want you to know that he…” Okay, she could just say this. “He made me enjoy it. That was part of the degradation, you see. He would touch me and fill me with this… this pleasure… only it was horrible. Really… horrible.”

  The mixture of fury and pain on his face reminded her of when she saw him before—right before she died. She was convinced she did die, or nearly so, before he brought her back. And when she was lying bloody on the floor, Razael had turned into an angel of vengeance, and that same look of fury was fighting for control of his face right now.

  She cleared her throat again. “So I want you to know that… it’s okay. I mean, it’s okay that you were breathing your blessing into me and that we almost, kind of, not really… kissed.” She met his wide-eyed stare. “I know it wasn’t a kiss. And you weren’t trying to make me feel good. I know. But your blessings saved the baby and me and… and feeling good isn’t something I’ve felt in a long time.” She tried a small smile. “You said my soul was broken, but… it feels a little better now.”

  The joy on his face was almost indescribable. Like if sculptures of Greek Gods could come to life, and their perfect faces could be lit with extreme happiness, this was what they would look like. “Your soul is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in all my days.”

  She’d been about to thank him again for saving her baby, but those words struck her almost as much as his joyful masculine beauty. “I… I don’t know what to say to that.”

  He smiled, and it was like the heavens parting. How could he be so beautiful? “Tell me if you have any pain. Tell me what I can do to ease it.”

  She had no pain, but some of the vibrant thrumming of the blessing he delivered before was wearing off. She frowned and cradled her belly. “Can you see my baby’s soul? Is it doing okay?”

  He dropped his gaze there. “It shines almost as bright as yours,” he said with a smile. Then he raised his sights and looked deep into her eyes. “It’s your love of your child, Eden—your ardent protection of it—that makes you shine so bright.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “That blessing you gave me,” she whispered like maybe she shouldn’t ask, but she would anyway. “Can you give me another one?”

  Several emotions flicked across his face—desire, happiness, and strangely, fear—but he nodded. He was seated several inches away, but close enough that with those long, muscle-sculpted arms of his, he could reach her. It was strange that she actually wanted him to close the distance between them.

  “I won’t give you a life kiss,” he promised, and she was almost disappointed. “But if I may touch…” He reached his hand toward her belly but stopped before he got there. He looked to her, waiting for permission.

  A warm feeling flushed through her—it was the same as in her dream. The feeling of being loved, being cared for, that sweet and tender gentleness.

  She nodded, and he placed a warm hand on her belly. Immediately, she felt it, the infusion of life and strength and energy. She pulled in a breath and blew it out, meeting his gaze.

  His eyes were blazing intense.

  He slid his other hand up to her cheek, and the warmth pulsed there, too—twice as strong now. Her breathing picked up, and she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. His gaze had dropped to them, his eyes half hooded, and she had that same flash from the dream—like she wanted him to bridge the gap between them and kiss her. It was both astonishing and exhilarating.

  But then he pulled away, visibly shuddering. “I’m sorry, I can’t—”

  She put her hand on his forearm. “It’s okay.”

  He froze and stared at her.

  She didn’t know why he’d pulled away, but she didn’t want him to feel bad about any part of this. It was an unalloyed good in her mind. She took his large hand in her two—large, but man-sized, not angel-sized, and she knew that was a choice he had made, and it made her smile. His eyes were wide again when she looked up into his face.

  “When Elyon came to me,” she said, surprised the smile could stay on her face while she spoke of him, “he promised to give me something I’d never had. Something I never could have. A baby.”

  He frowned, still seeming affected by her touch but not moving away. “You could not have a child?”

  She smiled more, even though it felt like it had been forever since she had. “I had cancer when I was young. I nearly died. The chemo saved me, fought back the tumor, but it left me sterile. Well, they didn’t know that for sure at first, but my ovaries had been pretty well destroyed. When I got older, the cancer returned. This time in my uterus. They had to remove it completely.” She squeezed his hand and peered into his eyes. “I don’t know how it is for angels, but a human without a uterus can’t have a baby.”

  Realization dawned on his face. “Elyon made you whole. And then got you with child.”

  “All I ever wanted was a baby of my own.” She smiled more, although it hurt now. “And it was the one thing I couldn’t have.”

  He nodded, and the gentle pain in his eyes moved something inside her. He understood. She wasn’t sure how, but he understood this aching… this longing to have something you never could.

  “I spent all my time with kids,” she added quickly. “I worked in a daycare. I was thinking of fostering and then adopting
. I figured if I could never have one of my own, I could at least make a home for someone else’s when they couldn’t.”

  He nodded more. “Then Elyon offered you your own child.”

  “I thought it couldn’t possibly be true.” Her smile dimmed. “Then I thought it was a miracle. And then… then I realized I’d made a bargain with a devil.” That cold fury was back on Razael’s face, so she hurried with the rest of what she wanted to say. “I thought that all he did to me—all the horror—was the price I had to pay. That I would just have to endure it because, in the end, I would have this beautiful child, and it would all be worthwhile...” She beat back the tears. “Of course, that was nonsense. He’s a monster. I thought I could escape, but I couldn’t. And now you…”

  Razael’s face twisted, and he pulled back, almost out of her grasp. “Me?”

  She smiled brighter for him. “You saved me. Us. Me and the baby. Don’t you see? It’s like you’ve given me another chance. This baby was a miracle the first time—I just wasn’t sure I could pay the price for it. But now that you’ve given us a fresh start… maybe I can have this baby without losing my soul.”

  At that, Razael’s expression relaxed. “Yes,” he enthused. “That’s exactly what I want. You have no idea the torment it causes me, seeing the damage in your soul.”

  She frowned and pulled back. “I thought you said it was healed. That you healed it.” She wasn’t sure why this was tripping alarm through her.

  “I’ve been giving you blessings for hours,” he said gently. “But the damage is extensive. I think it will… just take time.”

  “And more blessings?” She bit her lip. Maybe the damage from Elyon was permanent. She felt better than she had in so long—ever since she became pregnant in the first place—but maybe that was an illusion. Maybe she would slip back into that dark place once Razael’s blessings wore off.

  “Only if you wish.” But he had that yearning look again.

  She understood it now. The blessings weren’t just pleasure—they were joy and love and life. He must be feeling those things too as he transferred all of that to her. It was very… intimate. All Elyon had wanted was to fuck her—rape her—in a hundred different ways. Maybe Razael was so good, so completely the opposite of Elyon, that he didn’t want to touch her at all. Maybe it was hard for him to resist all those intimate feelings.