Her mother ran towards her, screaming, and even Troy stared on, horrified.
She gasped as the floor receded beneath her feet, and the creature repositioned her to rest against its chest. They flew from the church and were swallowed up in the bright sunlight.
Chapter Three
The city buildings passed beneath her like a haze of things barely realized. She clung to the creature, knowing it was either that or plunge five hundred feet to her death.
They were picking up speed, moving faster. She tightened her grip around his neck and tried desperately not to cry. She would not cry. She would not give the horrid beast the satisfaction.
She couldn’t look down anymore. Shouldn’t. If she did, she’d go crazy. She’d realize she was flying through the air, not in a plane, but in the arms of the spawn of Satan.
She cleared her throat and strove for calm. “I suppose you’re taking me…” her voice broke. “I don’t want to go…” She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t even think it. How could she even contemplate the fact that soon she would be taken deep beneath the earth to the fiery pits of despair that was the destination for all sinners? Was she a sinner, too? Was this her punishment for thinking lascivious thoughts? “I couldn’t help it,” she said, deciding to fess up and make him understand. “I knew I shouldn’t think such thoughts of an angel, but he positively drove me to them.”
The creature didn’t respond so much in words as it did with a deep, disapproving grunt.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that an angel would drive anybody to think sinful thoughts. I know they’re incapable of that. But you have to admit that for an angel, he had one heck of a body. I’m only human!”
It grunted again.
“Oh, gosh, I’m not doing a very good job, am I?”
Without warning, it let go of her. She dangled free in the air, kept from plummeting to the earth by her hold around its neck. She screamed and fought to wrap her legs around it. As she hung suspended, struggling to keep her grip, it closed his hands over her wrists and pulled her free of him. She howled as it lowered her beneath him so she was swinging free in the air. Its grip on her wrists was tight, but she knew all it had to do was let go and that would be it for her.
“Speak one more word,” it said in a voice so deep it rattled inside her chest, “and I will let go of you. You will fall into the ocean and drown.”
Wide-eyed, she stared down and saw they were indeed over a wide body of water. In every direction she looked, she saw nothing but water. Water everywhere, and she didn’t know how to swim. Were they over the Atlantic? She looked up into its wild hair and wished she could see its face. Its eyes, its mouth, anything. “Not another word,” she promised.
It pulled her up and settled her against its chest. She was more than happy to close her arms around its neck and burrow into its warmth. It didn’t protest when she wrapped her legs around its waist, but closed its arms around her and picked up speed again.
* * *
She woke slowly, rubbing her eyes and stretching like a cat. Yawning, she opened her eyes. Someone had put a goose down comforter over her while she slept. It was so warm she wanted to burrow in and close her eyes again. But she knew she couldn’t, she was getting married today.
She sat bolt upright. Where was she? Better question, where were her clothes? She was naked. How on earth had she become naked? She was about to leap from the bed, but thought better of it. She scanned her surroundings instead.
She was in a large, rather dark room, lit only by the flickering glow of candles. She lay in a massive canopy bed. A filmy material hung from the posts like netting, enclosing her in a cocoon of blackness broken by the candlelight of four candles set in deep wall recesses around the room. Across from her, a fire blazed in a fireplace large enough to heat her entire apartment. The warmth of it filled the room with delicious heat. There were two windows on the wall to the left of the bed, and both were hung with heavy velvet curtains that were so thick, she couldn’t tell whether it was night or day.
She was alone, though, she could see that much. She was alone, and she had to get out of there.
She pushed the netting aside and placed a toe cautiously against the stone tiles. In reflex, she jerked her foot back as the cold of the floor bit into her bare skin. After a moment, though, when no other options came to mind, she got to her feet and tiptoed across the room to the window closest her. The red velvet curtains pooled onto the floor, but she kicked them aside and pulled them wide, only mildly registering how soft the material felt beneath her touch. Stars glittered in the heavens above, and the silvery light of a full moon lit the night. She could see that she was up a ways from the ground. But more disturbing were the gray turrets that sat like bookends at either end of the building. Though building was not quite the appropriate word. Everything, from the cracked stone masonry to the murky water lying crescent-like beyond the far gates spoke of ages past. Either she was losing her mind, or she was in a castle. The countryside spread out like a vast and desolate plain. For miles beyond her window the land was barren. Far off in the distance, though, she thought she could see the tops of trees. This castle was probably the only habitation for miles.
Was she in Europe or further east? Where had the horrid creature taken her? Clearly she wasn’t beneath the earth, but she wasn’t in Baltimore either.
Her prospects were grim.
“Dorothy,” she said to herself, “you’re not in Kansas anymore.”
She heard the door open and quiet footsteps sound on the floor. She leapt for the bed and was pulling the comforter over her naked body when a figure came into view.
“Ah, so you’re awake,” he said.
Then she saw his face.
Her mouth went dry. She had never, in all of her days, seen such a man. Not even the angel could compare to this man’s beauty. And it was beauty. He was, in a word, extraordinary. If not for his squared chin, he would have been too pretty to be a man. His hair was black as midnight, pulled neatly away from his face and braided in a single plait that ran down the length of his back. Large, dark eyes watched her. He seemed content to wait for her to have her fill of him. And she did. She took in his full lips, quirked ever so slightly into a smile, and the confident way he held himself. As he moved, hands folded behind his back, every muscle in his legs flexed. He had an athletic build, and moved across the floor smoothly with movements that belied his size. He must have been as tall as the white angel. His olive skin was as blemish-free, as flawless in its perfection as a baby’s. Who on earth was this man, she wondered.
“There is much to be done,” he said.
She tucked her knees under her chin and pulled the covers tight about her throat, feeling her nakedness now more than she had when she’d been alone.
He advanced, and she burrowed deeper into the quilts. “Who are you? And where am I? Where’s my mother? And what happened to the angel and the devil? Are you the beast’s minion?”
He came to stand next to the bed. Folding his arms over his chest, he gazed down at her. She stared back, but it was like gazing into a great abyss. It wasn’t that his eyes were empty; rather, it seemed they had seen too much. They were too telling, too passionate. Too full of sorrow. She looked away and tightened her grip on the comforter.
“Perhaps I should have let you fall into the Great Ocean. Come. Rise. All will be answered later.”
He reached for her, and she recoiled. The glossy, black, snakeskin flesh of his hand hovered inches from her face. It was dark as pitch and glimmered under the candlelight. It was as unnatural and foreign as anything she had ever seen.
“You are the devil,” she gasped. Then all was dark.
* * *
He gazed down at the unconscious female and found, much to his surprise, that he was working to quell a smile. She was a surprisingly amusing creature, for a human. The way she insisted on referring to that white menace as an angel and him as the devil should have annoyed him. In truth, he found every wor
d that fell from those rosy lips of hers made him want to smile. He couldn’t explain it. Though he suspected it could have something to do with her looks.
She had looked luscious in that horrid white wedding frock he found her in, with her breasts straining against the flimsy bodice. Hers was not a face to sail ships. It was a face to sail fleets. She was quite beautiful in fact, with her mass of dark hair, rounded buttocks, and large eyes. It would be his luck to be cursed to spend days with a beautiful woman he couldn’t touch. That’s what made it all the more difficult to ignore the aching throb he felt between his legs as he looked at her.
He had a desire to rouse her from her faint with kisses. He wanted to cover her body with them; from her breasts to the tips of her toes he would cover her, until she was panting with a desire that matched his own. Only then would he sheath himself deep within her warmth. He’d ride her all night long if he could. Gently, at first. He had a sense that she wouldn’t be the most experienced of lovers, but as her body grew accustomed to his, he would intensify, bear down harder on her until she was begging him for mercy.
He moaned aloud. He had to get a grip on himself. He had too much to do to lose himself in lust for a second time. This was his second chance, and he couldn’t mess it up. There was so much he had to tell her and so little time. First, he would give her a brief history of events, then he would get them both in contact with The Alliance. He knew Alaric had a hideaway nearby. That had been his main reason for coming here. He would tell Charity about Azriel, find Alaric and convince Alaric of who he, Raven was. As Michael had said, Alaric would know how to get in contact with Figlio.
Charity moaned in her sleep. When Raven glanced up, he saw she had rolled free of the covers. Her naked body shimmered in the firelight. The round moons of her buttocks tormented him as she shifted to her stomach. He felt a familiar stirring begin in his loins and slowly spread. It had been so long since he’d had a woman. Too long, and he wanted this one.
He moved closer to the bed.
Her lips were parted and he could see the hint of a tongue. He wanted to suck it. Instead, though, he slid his hand into his pants and wrapped it around his stiff cock, pleased that after all this time it still worked. He gave himself a squeeze meant to dispel the arousal; instead, though, he heightened it. His breath expelled in a deep, hungry sigh.
Seconds later, he was stepping out of his snakeskin pants and pulling off his shirt and gloves. The shirt was a delicate process, since it wasn’t made with wing flaps in mind. But he freed himself of the constricting material and sighed in relief as the warmth of the room enveloped his naked body. He wasn’t surprised to see his thickly engorged dick was standing at full attention.
As if stretching, he spread his wings to their full width. The upper pair spanned six feet, while the lower pair fell just short of that. The black fur gleamed as it had before his imprisonment. Knowing well the impressive picture he made, he grinned and eased onto the bed beside her and pulled in his wings, promising himself he’d only lay with her.
* * *
She woke slowly, gradually becoming aware of the taste of something sweet in her mouth. She moaned. Her tongue was alive with the taste of merlot and strawberries. She tried to swallow but couldn’t manage it. She felt too disoriented to do much but lay there wondering what was going on. She was on her back and found it difficult to move. It was as if a weight had been laid across her body, pinning her to the bed.
“You taste better than I imagined.”
The voice was masculine, deep, with just a hint of an indiscernible accent.
That voice, compelling as it was, could only belong to one person. And those soft lips had to have the same origin. The devil. The horrid, beautiful, snakeskin demon was kissing her. Even as she struggled for words, she felt her will to fight evaporate under his erotic assault. He nipped her lips with his teeth, letting his tongue brush along the poufy edges of her lips while he murmured what seemed sweet endearments to her in a language she couldn’t understand. He was honey and wine and every good thing she had ever tasted.
And he was the embodiment of evil.
She opened her eyes.
Heavily muscled biceps caged her while a body worthy of the finest work of art lie against her own, keeping her pressed firmly into the mattress. One glance at his impressive frame told her she wouldn’t be able to budge him if she tried.
Her sudden realization of how helpless she truly was, how completely at his mercy she was, had her burning with a desire unlike anything she ever felt. He had brought her to this castle, had ripped her from her wedding and taken her to this place where they would be completely alone.
All of her feminist assertions were swiftly forgotten as a yearning so intense, a need she hadn’t even known she had, utterly overwhelmed her.
When he saw her eyes were open, he grinned down at her. Cupping the back of her head with one large hand, he brought his mouth down hungrily on hers, preventing her from saying anything. He worked his tongue into her mouth, searching until he found hers. The kiss was deep, and so good she was wrapping her arms around him before she’d realized what she was doing. No man had ever kissed her this way. Definitely not Troy.
His free hand went to her breasts, plucking at her engorged nipples and squeezing so she had to fight to catch her breath. He played with the sensitive flesh, tormented it until her breathing was hot and labored.
“Oh, gosh, yes” she moaned. No, no, no, her mind begged. He’s evil. You cannot do these things with him. But she wanted to. He was making her feel so good. No one had ever made her feel like this.
She struggled to clear her mind. Desperate to escape him, she clung to the image of him swooping into the church and sending the white angel careening into walls. Only a monster would be capable of such monstrous acts. Only a monster would destroy a church. Only a monster had skin like a snake. Only a monster could make her body want so badly to defy her mind. She turned away from him.
He would have none of it, though. His lips brushed her cheek, and he drew his tongue over her skin so tenderly that small frissons of pleasure ran up and down her spine. Then she felt him nip her. First her cheek, then her jaw line, then she felt the smallest pain on her throat as he closed his teeth over her carotid and sucked. The pain was brief, quickly replaced with his lush kisses. He made a slow trail over her throat, across her collarbone, and over the mounds of her breasts.
She didn’t know what to do or what to think. Nobody had ever done this to her. He kissed her as though he had all the time in the world to enjoy her. She couldn’t help but respond. Try as she might to quell her body's reaction to his touch, she found she could do little to keep from arching towards him and longing for more.
* * *
She was ambrosia, Raven thought. Fine wine made just for him. He could feel her inner struggle. Her mind raged against her even as her body softened to him. She met his every kiss with one of her own and arched her body to meet his touch as though she were starving for it. How on earth would he stop himself from taking her? From claiming her? Figlio be damned.
He tugged at her nipples, his breaths coming faster and hotter against her skin. He teased her. When he closed his mouth over her nipple she let out a gasp. He growled deep in his throat as he laved the pert bud with the tip of his tongue.
“My gosh,” she groaned.
He raised himself to his elbows and stared down at her.
* * *
Again, Charity was struck by how beautiful he was. How perfect. She knew she should be afraid of him, knew even that the chances of him being human was slim to nil, but she couldn’t generate any real fear of him. She just didn’t sense he meant her any harm. It was passion with him and lust and desire.
“You are mine for the taking,” he said in a soft whisper she couldn’t deny. Didn’t try. “Do you deny it?” She couldn’t speak, couldn’t form words. She stared up at him. “Mine,” he whispered, then closed his mouth over hers.
Fiery heat gripped he
r, and she writhed beneath him, welcoming his kiss with her own. She pressed her breasts into his chest, desperate to feel his hands on them again. She released an uneven sigh when he eased a hand between her thighs. His hand slipped easily over the cream moistened flesh. When he found her most sensitive nub, she let loose a scream of delight. Sparks of pleasure shot through her body like streaks of electricity. He squeezed the nub between his finger and thumb, then made gentle circles over it. Her head rocked back and forth as the last threads of control left her. His tongue dipped deep into her mouth possessively, and the orgasm broke over her body. It spread like wild fire and pummeled her with wave after wave of pleasure. She moaned like the most wanton of whores and spread her legs further for him. She had to feel him inside of her. Feel what he could do to her with the thick erection she felt pressing into her.
Had she ever found him repulsive? What craziness had that been? Gone was the savage beast she had seen in the church, gone even was the snakeskin. His olive skin rippled over his muscles.
“Please, yes,” she stammered. “Take me now. Yours. All yours.”
* * *
He knew he could have her. She was his to take if he chose. And so very wet. So very ready for him. He could ease inside of her and be in bliss within seconds. It had been so long since he’d experienced that most natural of human experiences. Too long. And he wanted to experience it with Charity. But he couldn’t. It was too dangerous to even consider. He was a fool for tempting himself this much. This was a delicate mission, and one misstep on his part could ruin everything. He had to proceed with care. She didn’t even know what he was. For that matter, she didn’t even know what she was, why he was here, or what part she had to play in it. And there was Figlio who she belonged to. Figlio whom he had to convince to forgive him.
The Nephilim War: Book One Page 3
