by Alisa Woods
“Shhh,” he said, taking up her hand once more and effectively cutting off all her words. “None of that matters,” he said with a soft smile. “None of it… unless you love me. And not just the love of a friend, Erelah. A True Love. And I know that’s the hardest part of all. I know it because Tajael told me. He spoke of how it was for angelings, how hard it was, and I believe him. But I also know it because I know that if you loved me, if somehow by some miracle you were able to actually love me, well then… everything else is possible.”
Air was laboring in her chest now. All the wounds from her supposed Penance in the queen’s chamber were gone, whisked away by Leksander’s dragon blood and fae magic, and her body was buzzing with the pleasure of his hand touching hers. Now all this talk of loving, when that wasn’t a thing she could even think of doing, was making her more light-headed.
But then he gently pulled her closer, tugging on her hand. “All we need to worry about,” he whispered, soft and low, as he leaned in, “the only thing that matters… is finding out if love is something you can feel for me.” His clear blue eyes were staring into hers, and she felt that connection like a tether between their souls. There was no possibility of her looking away. Or speaking. Or even breathing.
Then his gaze dropped to her lips, and he leaned forward, seeking them.
This time, his kiss would not take her by surprise. This time, she knew exactly his intent. She should run away or push him back or, at a minimum, put a hand to his chest and stop his advance, but she did none of those things. She let him lean forward and press his lips to hers, and only then, could she breathe again. A gasp as he touched her. He pulled back slightly, released her hand, and cupped her cheek instead. Then with an aching and deliberate slowness—for how else could she explain her need for him to go faster—he leaned in to kiss her again.
Her heart thrummed in her ears like a hundred beating wings. His touch was feather-soft at first, but then his lips moved urgently against hers. She grabbed at him without realizing, but suddenly her hands were gripping his shoulders, bringing him closer. A rumbling sound in his chest tightened something deep and low in her belly, and she opened her mouth to his, inviting him in. The rumble moved up to his chest and turned into a moan as his tongue darted into her, hot and probing and insistent. She moved with him, her tongue matching his, her movements a mirror at first, then taking the lead.
Always, when Leksander was near, the fae in his blood brought a kind of exciting edginess to her body, a sharpness to her mind. As if he were just a little dangerous, just a little wild. Now, with his fae blood infusing her wounds, and his tongue probing her mouth, and his hands wrapping urgently in her hair, that edge of danger ignited in her a burning need for more.
“I have…” she panted as she kissed him. “A need. Such need.” She whimpered the last of that, and Leksander growled a possessive sound that transfixed her and set her body even more on fire with this indescribable need that she felt only he could fulfill.
His arm wrapped around her waist, holding her tight, while his lips left hers and traveled along her jaw. She automatically tilted her head back, giving him better access, and her eyes fell shut.
“Oh God, Erelah,” he panted against her skin. He reached her neck, and his lips there sent shock waves that reverberated around her body but seemed to focus most between her legs. The wildness—that edge inside her—grew sharper, and she grabbed at him with more power, pulling him harder against her neck.
“More,” she gasped because even as he kissed her there, it wasn’t enough. But her hands flailed at his shoulders. She didn’t know how to do what her body was screaming for—what that wildness inside her was demanding—and that just escalated her frustration into a writhing ball of need inside her. “More, Leksander…” The words made her mouth ache, and that tension low in her belly grew painfully tight. “Give me more.”
He groaned into the flesh of her neck and grabbed hard onto her bottom, pulling her body up and flush against his. His erect penis was trapped between them, and her pulse throbbed at every point of her body where he’d healed her, but especially between her legs, where she was sure he had not. His other hand wrapped tightly in her hair, and suddenly his mouth was consuming her—tongue hard and demanding, lips soft but made of steel. Her hands finally found purpose in ripping the shirt from his shoulders, grabbing hold on each side and rending the fabric apart. That left nothing but bare skin and multiplied the effect of their touch by a hundredfold, surging all at once. She cried out and pushed him back to the ground, needing to pin him while she gave her hands free roam over the expanse of muscles on his shoulders and his chest. His eyes went wide as she took liberties, straddling him, so the heat between her legs ground against the rock-hardness of his body. His maleness was an intoxication, a fever dream she had once and forgot. She wanted his hard edge to carve through her, cleaving her as she dragged her hands down his body. She panted as though breath no longer belonged to her, and her hands craved to stroke him.
“Erelah!” Only the terror in his eyes stopped her hazed groping.
She jerked, a chill running through her. Had she hurt him?
But he wasn’t looking at her… he was looking past her.
“Your wings.” It was a gasp of horror.
Her head whipped to the side to look. Holy angels of—no!
Her wings. They were black as midnight.
She flung herself up and away from Leksander’s body, screeching as she hurtled into the air. She twisted to see, spinning in the air, trying to claw at the infernal black feathers as if they belonged to some attacking vapor… but they were hers.
A howl of pain and shame and horror worked from deep in her belly straight up and out of her mouth… and she screamed and screamed and screamed. An angelsong so bright and so powerful it shook loose rocks that tumbled down and rolled to where Leksander lay on his back, thrown down by her unhinged passions.
She gaped at him, so beautiful and alluring, and all she wanted was to ravage him. Take him. Sin again and again and again in an unending orgy of Lust. She wanted to shatter what shreds of Chastity she had left until she was completely turned.
She was Shadow.
Her own Fall had come in a heady rush, and she could do nothing any longer without Sin. She screeched all the pain and sorrow there was in her body, expending it in sound and despair. Then she pumped her wings away from him and twisted to hurtle herself far from this man, this beautiful man, this overpoweringly tempting man…
Forever.
Leksander thought he knew.
He thought he understood heartbreak. He thought he knew what it was like to feel pain inside your heart and mind and soul that could turn you inside out.
He knew nothing.
He lay, frozen, on the rocky ledge for a time without measure.
What had he done?
He didn’t move. Or speak. Or even breathe, until his lungs were on fire with the need to do so, and he relented. Horror held him captive, pinned to the rock… right until a pop in the air made his heart seize so hard, he thought it might kill him.
It was Tajael.
His face was a picture of panic. “No,” he gasped from his spot at the end of the rocky ledge. “I felt… a shockwave through magic space…” His face crumpled. “Please tell me she didn’t…”
Leksander lurched to his feet. “What happened to her?” he demanded as he raged across the narrow ledge. He grabbed hold of the angeling by his flimsy toga and shouted in his face. “Her wings were black!”
The last shred of hope left Tajael’s face, and it folded into despair. “She has fallen.”
Leksander shoved him away and stumbled back. “Fallen.”
Tajael didn’t explain further, just bent his head and wept silent tears. But he didn’t have to. Leksander knew what had happened. He knew what he had done.
He had tempted her with his love and his kisses and his soft promises…
And he had broken her.
Leks
ander and Erelah's story continues in...
MARKED BY A DRAGON
(Fallen Immortals 8)
coming April 2017
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Of Bards and Witches
London, The Year of Our Lord 1600
Leonidas is a dragon shifter, a century into his allotted five, and he’s entranced by Master Shakespeare’s theatre and the comely and lusty women of London’s bankside. But when he finds a witch in the practice of her art in clear view of the stage, he must act… for dragons are the keepers of the peace between the mortal and immortal realms. But never has duty been so sweetly sexy and delicious to the touch as a witch whose very skin sparks pleasure. He becomes lost in his bed, breaking his own cardinal rule—never seduce a woman for more than a night. As one pleasure-drenched night bleeds into the next, he runs afoul of a danger he ought already know… never cross a witch.
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READING ORDER
Shifters in Seattle
True Alpha (Book 1)
Dark Alpha (Book 2)
A True Alpha Christmas (Book 3)
River Pack Wolves
Jaxson (Book 1)
Jace (Book 2)
Jared (Book 3)
Wilding Pack Wolves
Wild Game (Book 1)
Wild Love (Book 2)
Wild Heat (Book 3)
Wild One (Book 4)
Wild Fire (Book 5)
Wild Magic (Book 6)
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Fallen Immortals
Kiss of a Dragon (Book 1)
Heart of a Dragon (Book 2)
Fire of a Dragon (Book 3)
Chosen by a Dragon (Book 4)
Seduced by a Dragon (Book 5)
Touched by a Dragon (Book 6)
Loved by a Dragon (Book 7)
Marked by a Dragon (Book 8)
Claimed by a Dragon (Book 9)
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Alisa Woods lives in the Midwest with her husband and family, but her heart will always belong to the beaches and mountains where she grew up. She writes sexy paranormal romances about alpha men and the women who love them. She enjoys exploring the struggles we all have, where we resist—and succumb to—our most tempting vices as well as our greatest desires. She firmly believes that love triumphs over all.
All of Alisa's romances feature sexy alphas and the strong women who love them.
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Alisa's website: www.AlisaWoodsAuthor.com
