Angel of Chaos (Imp Book 6)

by Debra Dunbar

  “They’re both good, but I think I like the dark one with the salt the best.”

  I plopped down on the sofa beside him, hiding the Belvedere bottle behind me and out of his reach. Sheesh, and they called me greedy. “That’s Nyalla’s favorite too. She has a stash hidden up in her room for what she calls ‘emotional emergencies’.”

  He scooped up the remaining piece and examined it. “She has an affinity for water. It makes sense she would like foods that taste of the ocean.”

  I snorted out a laugh. “She’s been to the beach every month, has brochures plastered all over the walls of her room. Jet skis, paddle boarding, fishing, and now she’s taking scuba–diving lessons. I think the girl is part fish.”

  “You know she made me a food item while you were in Hel. I believe she called it a ‘casserole’. She said human females make these as gifts when someone is feeling sad.”

  Huh. No one had ever made me a casserole before. “Was it any good?”

  “No. I’m very fond of your human ward, but she might want to leave the food preparation to those who have had more than six months of experience.”

  He extended the square of chocolate toward me, and I took it gently from his hand, brushing my lips against his fingers. My eyes met his and the seduction of the moment made me irrationally shy.

  “So, what did you gift her with anyway?” I scrambled for something to say to relieve my sudden awkwardness. “I’m guessing telepathy?”

  His eyes snagged on my lips, and he smiled, as if he were the one reading my mind. “No. I allowed her to see into the hearts of others. She can’t hear their thoughts, but senses their overall emotional state. With maturity, she’ll see glimpses of their past — things that made a significant impact on them.”

  “Why?” My question wasn’t just a distraction by this point. I was interested. “Why would you gift her with that?”

  “She was lost and afraid, surrounded by those she didn’t understand — culturally or linguistically. I wanted her to have something that made her feel safe, or give her a good reason to fear.”

  “That’s kind of an odd gift, in my opinion. I would have given her the gift of fireball, or the ability to sever limbs with her fingernails. Or smite. Isn’t that what you angels do? Smite stuff?” Not that I had any idea what the fuck smite meant.

  “You’re a demon. Your gifts are different than mine.” Gregory moved the tray onto the table and edged closer to me. “I haven’t given a gift in nearly two–thousand years. Do you know why I chose to bestow this on your little Nyalla?”

  I swallowed, feeling the heat of his presence so close to mine. “Why?”

  He closed the gap between us, caressing my spirit–self with his own as our physical bodies remained a scant few inches apart. “Because it brings me joy to pamper the ones you protect. This girl is an adopted child to you. I love you, therefore I love her too.”

  I’d always been drawn to his power, to his intensity that filled me with a mixture of lust, admiration, and fear. The cornerstone of Aaru. Dalmai’s words floated to the surface of my mind, and I felt a fissure of guilt. I liked to think I was selfish, but my sins had their limits. When we were joined, the rest of creation faded away, but could I ever forgive myself if my actions brought about the apocalypse?

  His spirit caressed mine, and his mouth traced a path across my forehead. I swayed, like a charmed snake and lifted my face to his. It was as if I was stripped of anything outside of us, as if the world vanished, leaving us alone in a vacuum of sensation. His non–corporeal self wreaked havoc on my spirit–being, while his mouth did things no angel should have ever dreamed of. His lips were gentle, then the jagged points of his teeth pierced, and his tongue stung. Pleasure and pain — all the things a demon girl longs for. I reached up a hand to cup his cheek and transformed the flesh, bringing nerve endings and blood vessels closer to the surface where they would feel the slightest of my touch.

  He drew back with a gasp.

  “Sorry. Too much?” My voice was smoky, but I was sincere. With Gregory, it was important to let him go at his own pace, to let him initiate. I’d just been so eager, so hungry for his touch, that I’d pushed too far too fast. It wasn’t the first time.

  “How do you endure it?” He closed his eyes. “Ten–thousand years I’ve served as Grigori, and I still cannot bear more than minimal physical sensation.”

  “I just do. We demons search for sensory input the second we’re formed. Pleasure, pain — it doesn’t matter which. The more intense, the better. We’re desperate for it, so hungry we’ll put our lives at risk in pursuit of it. That’s why my punishments in Aaru are such agony. The only thing that makes it bearable is when you’re there by my side.”

  He stared at me as if I were some exotic creature beyond his comprehension. “We’re the opposite.”

  That pretty much summed it up. “Do you think you could ever change? Maybe eventually you’ll come to enjoy physical sensation as I do?”

  Gregory shook his head. “I don’t know. I can’t see how I’d ever be able to even tolerate the level you wish of me, but I’ll try my best.”

  His words sent guilt, like one of Harper’s knives, to my chest. There were experiences that were better for the waiting, and there were some things better never had. Chaos, change, sometimes had to come at the speed of light, but too much, too soon undid all progress. And chaos was nothing if not balanced by order.

  I reached out a finger and traced along his jaw, feeling the marble–like texture of his skin. His eyes were that all–encompassing black, and his teeth sharp and jagged — what always happened when he lost control. A copper curl fell across his forehead, and I brushed it back, relishing the silky texture.

  “We’ll just angel fuck. Trust me, that rocks my world like the Valdivia earthquake. There’s no need to make this physical if you don’t enjoy it. In fact, I don’t want to make this physical if you don’t enjoy it.”

  “But you enjoy it.” He ran a finger across my bottom lip. “And I enjoy seeing you fall into the feel of my touch. Perhaps we give each other what we need. We share the joys of our spirit–selves, and I give you the physical sensations you crave.”

  Holy shit. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? My breath caught in my throat. “I think I need some of that vodka.” Wasn’t it ridiculous that I, the demon, needed alcohol to decide whether or not to get it on with an angel?

  He moved his fingers from my lip to my jaw, tracing a line down the sensitive skin of my neck.

  “Vodka,” I croaked out. I needed room to breathe, to think about what he’d just said.

  “I drank it all.” He reached out and grabbed the empty off the coffee table, tossing it over the back of the couch. It hit the floor with a musical splintering of glass. “Where’s the rye one you brought up from the basement?”

  “Here.” I dug it out from behind my back, staying as close to him as possible. Something felt so odd about tonight, like we were at a crossroads. We’d had these moments before, and I never ceased to be amazed at the magical, intoxicating feeling they produced inside me. I opened the Belvedere and took a small sip, feeling the burn on my throat, the warmth in my belly, and the sudden jolt to my brain. Good vodka felt very much like love.

  “Pass the bottle, Cockroach. Don’t Bacall the vodka.”

  I snorted and held it toward him. “Bogart, you silly thing.” The mistake in human slang made me grin… and wiped away every last inhibition I had. Whatever he wanted to give, I was ready to receive.

  Gregory took the liquor from me and drained a quarter of it, slamming it down on the table when he was done. I eyed it apprehensively, thankful that they put this stuff in sturdy bottles.

  “I think I like the potato base better, but this will do nicely. Now, where were we?” He leaned toward me and bumped my forehead with his.

  “Are you drunk?” By all that’s unholy, I’d gotten him plowed, and now I was going to seduce him. Or let him seduce me. Or not seduce him at all. I
wasn’t sure which way this whole evening was going. Maybe I was a bit drunk too.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Drunk?”

  “Yeah. Intoxicated. Smashed. Hammered, blitzed, pissed. It’s when you feel weird in the head, and you do all sorts of things you would never normally consider doing.”

  A smile flitted across his face, and he reached out to rub a lock of my hair between his fingers. “Ah, Cockroach. I’ve been drunk from the first moment I saw you.”

  His lips crashed against mine, and we joined, fast and furious with the heat of a thousand suns. I lost myself in the colors of his spirit–self, trusting him to keep me safe. I jumped, ready to leave my body behind, but he held me back, keeping a portion of my spirit bonded in the physical. The sting of his tongue rasped along the sensitive skin of my neck. His teeth tore my flesh. His hand brushed against my breast.

  With a gasp, I pulled back, frantically trying to regain some control over the situation. I was lost, too far gone to regain more than a modicum of my self–awareness. Vodka was a paltry drunk compared to the love of an angel.

  “I’m a demon. Don’t think … I’m not what you want. I’m not an angel. Don’t fuck up your salvation. Don’t destroy all of Aaru because you think I’m something I’m not.”

  I had no idea what I was saying, and the feel of his heat against me wrecked my concentration.

  “Cockroach, you are an Angel of Chaos, a demon born of Hel, an imp. I love every bit of you, even when I’m ready to strangle you. My future is going to be a wild ride, full of pleasure and pain, but this will be the best ride of my life as long as I’m by your side.”

  I reached a hand under his shirt to caress the skin along his waist. He might have negligible physical sensation, but my slightest touch was magnified a hundred fold for this angel.

  “You were an angel to me long before you got these wings,” he murmured against my neck. “You were an angel to me the moment I saw you risk your own life to save a human, the moment I saw you play with lightning in that campground, the moment you tried to open that twist–top wine with a corkscrew. I’ve been yours from the moment I laid eyes on you, smacking a dead man’s hand against a wall and screaming profanity.”

  My guilt melted away, and I gave myself up to fate, elongating nails to scrape bloody fissures along his waist. “And you had me at ‘Cockroach’.”

  His spirit–self teased mine, merging then retreating as he forcibly kept a portion of my being imbedded in the physical, feeling his mouth and hands against my skin. “Show me. Show me how you withstand such sensation. Show me how you find pleasure in it.”

  I’d already let him in. I opened wide and he saw the connections, the way I imbedded myself into the flesh as if I were human. He traced the nerve endings, lighting them up with his touch. I gasped and arched myself against him, feeling my flesh against the odd simulation of his own. Where had his clothes gone?

  “Interesting how so much of the sexual experience lies in the brain. Far more than in the genitals.” He ran along the pathways, igniting waves of ecstasy.

  “Cheating,” I groaned. “You’re supposed to hit the external ends on the skin, not go straight to the sensory centers in the brain.”

  “That’s a terribly inefficient way of doing these things.” Gregory moved his hands lightly down the sides of my body. “I thought you demons would have figured that out by now.”

  I could tell he was teasing, but it was hard to focus on anything but the erotic combination of his spirit–self wrapped around mine and the heat of his flesh against mine. “Lower. Lower, lower, lower.”

  “Maximum sensation at these points here and here.” I groaned as his hands and mouth roamed south, his fingers skimming along my stomach to slide between my legs.

  “Doesn’t that cause you pain?”

  “No! Keep going. Don’t stop.”

  Damn, this was awesome. His fingers explored every inch of my folds, while his spirit–self continued its rhythm with mine. Having him wrapped around me like this meant he knew every spark his touch ignited.

  “Show me, my imp. Show me what it’s like for you. Let me give you everything you desire.” His mouth lowered, burning a path along the underside of my arm where his mark had once been. “Show me,” he murmured.

  “Uh… .” Coherent speech was beyond me at this point. All I could do was feel his fingers curling inside me, his thumb in gently flicking my most sensitive spot. He bit down on the soft skin of my arm, and I burst into a thousand shards of light.

  My body shuddered, and then rolled in the waves of orgasm. With each pulse, his spirit merged with mine. We continued the rhythm, prolonging the dance of our spirit–selves after the physical ecstasy had died away.

  He chuckled. “Demons.”

  “Angels,” I gasped in return.

  He grabbed me, yanking me completely from my body to join with him. I’d never grow tired of that sensation of oneness, that feeling of him inside me. This was my paradise, my heaven. This made all the trials I faced turn to dust. Together we were so much more than an imp and an angel.

  Everything blurred. Black eyes meeting mine. Teeth and tongue. Heat beyond what mortal flesh could tolerate. My vision blanked to white, and it all retreated — fading until I felt the hardness of his odd flesh against mine. Tangling my hands in the silk of his chestnut curls, I exhaled. I was in a world of trouble, but none of that mattered tonight. All I knew was that this angel loved me. And that love was the answer to life, the universe, and everything.

  –21–

  Here.”

  I opened my eyes to see Nyalla sitting on the coffee table extending a steaming cup of coffee. I was on the couch. Naked. Without Gregory. I took the beverage and sat up, trying for a casual I–don’t–care attitude. I did care. Waking up without him felt like a blow to my solar plexus.

  The girl smiled, tilting her head. “He’s in the kitchen, silly. Who do you think made you the coffee?”

  Her gift. It was a good thing I trusted this young human with the contents of my heart.

  “You had a good night?” Her eyebrows wiggled up and down. I couldn’t help but laugh at the silly expression.

  “I had an awesome night. But it’s past dawn and time for us to face the day. Party’s over, and I’ve left quite a mess on the lawn, as they say.”

  Gregory’s reaction to my confession was foremost in my mind this morning, right behind the elation over what we’d done, what it meant. He more than met me halfway. I could trust him. I could rely on him. Love was a beautiful emotion, and his actions meant so much more to me than the words.

  Nyalla wrinkled her nose. “If I polished off two bottles of vodka, I might have vomited on the grass out front of the house too.”

  That wasn’t what I meant, although the idea of an angel and I puking on the lawn held great appeal. Whatever I’d face at the hands of the angels wasn’t something Nyalla needed to worry about though.

  I took a sip of my coffee. “How’s Harper?”

  “Good.” I looked up to see the woman walking down the steps, hand on the railing to steady her. Sheesh, it seemed like she’d gotten even more pregnant overnight. I wondered if there was just one baby in there. Yikes. I was never so glad that we demons didn’t have such a huge gestation period. With us, it was just form and go on about your day. Not that I had any intention of producing offspring. Ugh.

  Harper made her way across the room and sat beside me on the couch. “I’m ready to go. I’ve decided I want to join the werewolves and accept their assistance in raising my son.” A smile lit her face. “Lord knows I’ll need the help. Having a community after feeling so isolated will be … nice.”

  “I can’t use the same magic to transport you as I did Jaq,” I warned. “We’ll probably have to make a mad dash to the border, with Nils and Nyalla riding shotgun.”

  “Or I can just gate her there.”

  Gregory’s words shocked me more than the bowl of cereal he shoved into my hands. He looked smugly proud of his cu
linary efforts, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it wasn’t milk he’d poured on top of the Cheerios but Bailey’s Irish Cream. I took an obligatory bite and was surprised to find the liquor–drenched cereal quite tasty.

  “Good?” From his expression, the angel seemed to believe himself to be the next Anthony Bourdain.

  “Delicious!” I took another bite and hastily swallowed. “And you can’t gate her there. If you couldn’t transport me from Seattle to Juneau without the other angels knowing, then you certainly won’t be able to gate a woman who’s pregnant with a Nephilim.”

  “Cockroach, I’m damned anyway. You killed five angels — six if I count the one you shoved to his death.” Gregory glanced at Harper, a look of sympathy on his face. “I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

  “There’s no loss.” Harper’s voice was flat and tight, her eyes hard.

  “None of that is your fault,” I protested. “I killed those angels, not you. I’m the Iblis. We’re not bound anymore. I’m responsible for my own actions. I’ll take the heat for this.”

  Gregory sat on the coffee table across from me, his knees pressing against the sofa on either side of my legs. “The heat for this will be more than you can handle. I won’t stand by and watch you suffer. We’ll face this together.”

  There wasn’t much I couldn’t handle. After everything I’d been through during my banishment, nothing the angels dished out would be beyond my ability to endure.

  “I’ll protest the ruling, just like I did with Jacob Barakel. These angels attacked me in my home, and Bencul threatened the human I’d vowed to protect. If I could kill that angel last summer and be excused, then this shouldn’t be such a problem. It was self–defense.”

  Gregory shook his head. “I covered up what happened last year. Gabriel and I are the only ones who know you killed that angel, and he agreed to let it go. That angel violated the terms of the treaty. Although his crime was a bit in the gray area, my brother takes a dim view of treaty violations. I’m not sure he or the others on the Ruling Council will believe self–defense is an adequate reason to kill six angels.”