Of Alliance and Rebellion

by Micah Persell

  He lowered his hands to the slight curve of her waist and lifted her up. When she followed his lead and propped herself up with her knees, he reached between them and positioned himself at her entrance. He parted from her mouth long enough to murmur, “Whenever you’re ready,” before diving right back in and tasting her.

  And, of course, in typical Anahita fashion, she was moving as soon as his words left his mouth. He felt her thigh muscles flick against the outside of his as she lowered herself onto him. The moment her heat engulfed the head of his cock, he groaned deep in his chest and fought every instinct to thrust up into her with all of his might. Slow. She needed slow.

  As she slid down, she broke away from the kiss to look in his eyes. Her breath kept catching on the release and then she would gasp a new set of air before releasing it with that little catch once more.

  It was the most fucking erotic thing he’d ever heard, and already, only half inside of her, the tip of his cock felt like it was going to explode. Inch by inch, her body accepted his until he was seated all of the way. Her eyes were wide and luminous, and she was so tight around him that he feared to move, sure he must be hurting her.

  She exhaled slowly, and he reached up to brush her cheek with his fingertips. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

  Her eyes widened even more. “This is supposed to hurt?”

  He felt his cheeks stretch with a grin as relief flooded him so quickly, he went lightheaded. “The first time does sometimes,” he said. “I’m glad it doesn’t for you.”

  “Did your first time hurt?”

  His laugh was quick and loud. “Only my pride, pretty—”

  She moved slightly—just a back and forward squirm in his lap—but it cut off his speech with a noise that sounded suspiciously like arg. She paused, looked at him with that tilted head again, smiled, and then repeated her movement, this time much more purposefully.

  Max cursed long and low. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against her shoulder, praying harder than he ever had in his life for the control to let her take the lead on this.

  “You are very easy to read in this situation,” she breathed, repeating the movement again, wrenching another groan from him and causing his body to shudder. “That makes me lucky, I think.”

  He nipped her shoulder, and she gasped. “Definitely feels like I’m lucky right now.”

  She set up a rhythm of rises and falls that was, actually, anything but a rhythm. Her untimed, inexperienced movements were about 90 percent enthusiasm and 10 percent acrobatic, and he’d never felt anything so amazing in his life.

  After a few minutes, he placed his hands on her hips and began to guide her movements a little. He slowed her down and set up her timing, and watching realization dawn on her gorgeous face made his chest grow tight. He cupped her face and brushed his thumbs beneath her eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Ana.”

  She ran her hands across his shoulders, down his pecs, to his back—as though she couldn’t touch enough of him. “Max,” she moaned. “Max,” she said again, this time, distress obvious in her tone.

  “Shh.” He trailed a hand over one breast and down her stomach to where they were joined. “We want to brush this”—he circled her clit with his thumb, and she gasped—“as we move.”

  He brushed her sensitive skin again, and her head fell back. “Yes, we want to do that,” she moaned.

  He chuckled and leaned forward to nip at her exposed neck. He moved his hand from between them—bit off another chuckle as she made a sound of protest—and sprawled it in the small of her back. Pressing down, he said, “Arch your back a little…”

  She followed the pressure of his hand, and he used his other arm to wrap around her hips and reposition her just so—

  She cried out as he thrust up into her, his cock dragging along her clit the entire way. Her core clenched tightly around him, and for a moment, Max was sure it was all over. She was just too much. The sounds she made, the softness of her skin, the unbelievably tight hold her body had on his, that lily smell that filled his lungs. “Ana,” he groaned, biting down on her shoulder. A minimal amount of control surfaced—a gift from God, surely—and he used the arm around her hips to help her move against him again.

  “I just ... we have to ... faster, Max,” she babbled, her nails digging into his back.

  “Fuck,” he groaned, helpless to do anything but what she asked, even though the chances of this lasting longer than a minute through faster were close to zero.

  Control slipped its leash. He began thrusting up into her hard enough to make her bounce, which had the most breathtaking effect on her breasts. Even as he acknowledged that he was being too rough for a virgin, he leaned forward and captured one of those bouncing nipples with his mouth, sucking it between his lips and biting down with his teeth.

  She cried out his name and clenched her fingers in his hair, holding him to her breast as she continued to buck into his thrusts. “Max,” she moaned, breaking off to cry out again. “I ... you cannot stop ... I ... Max.”

  He felt every muscle in her body clench, and she froze in his arms for a moment before crashing down on his lap and writhing back and forth on his dick. She made a high, keening sound, and Max released her breast to glance up at her. She sounded like she was coming…

  “Oh, my God,” he breathed, taking in her face, the wonder on her features. She bit into her bottom lip as her brows drew together and her eyes slid shut. “Oh, Ana,” he groaned. One thing became very clear as he watched his angel come apart in his arms: this was anything but just sex. He had severely underestimated this, the power that this act would have.

  And as her inner muscles clamped down on him and pulled him right over the edge with her, the unimaginable pleasure he felt as he came was tempered with the shame of betraying her. Of doing anything but bringing her the pleasure she felt right now in his arms.

  She sucked in a ragged breath, and all of her muscles relaxed. She slowly straightened her head from where it had been thrown back and looked down at him. A sexy, satisfied smile stretched her lips, and she laid a palm over his thundering heart. “That felt…” Her smile turned a little self-conscious. “Oh, Max, I think I loved that,” she whispered. She laughed. “I could Fall for that.”

  God, I loved that, too, warred in his brain with a horrified echo of Fall on repeat. The backs of his eyes burned, and he worried for a moment that he was going to start weeping. She was ready to Fall for him?

  “Max?” He watched as all of the newfound wonder vanished from her face. “I was trying to make a joke.” When he looked away, she fidgeted in his lap. “Was that not ... did I not do good for you?” Her eyes darted back and forth between his. “Just show me what to do for next time, and I will—”

  “Stop that,” he said gruffly. “Stop right now. That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced, Anahita.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “Anahita,” she repeated. “Why do I not feel as though this is headed to a good place?”

  He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to her shoulder—the last time she would let him touch her?—and lifted her off of him to settle her on the bed. “I have to tell you something.”

  The light in her eyes dimmed, and she looked down and around, obviously searching for something, before plucking at the edge of the comforter and pulling it up to cover her breasts.

  He’d finally managed to make her self-conscious of her body. Great. One more thing to add to his list of indictments. “Stay right here,” he muttered. He pushed to his feet and stabbed his legs through his pants, snatching them up to his waist before treading into the living room area to retrieve her robe. The heavy feeling in his gut grew heavier as he walked back to her and handed her the robe, which she immediately pulled over her head and fretfully arranged to cover her whole body.

  Was he really about to do this? Throw away the one thing in his life worth preserving? She didn’t know they had been spying on her—at his request and urging. Who was to say she
would ever find out?

  That thought sobered him. She might never find out. And then she would have Fallen for someone who had shamelessly used her. He would never be able to enjoy her—her company or her body—knowing what was hidden between them.

  “I just…” He swooped down and planted a brief but passionate kiss on her lips, which she, in apparent shock, allowed. When he broke the kiss and stared into her eyes, he already had a hard time catching his breath, and his body protested what he was about to do as it plowed straight into full arousal. “I had to do that one last time,” he muttered.

  She pulled away from him and crossed her arms over her stomach. “I do not care for the way that sounds.”

  Max straightened and shoved a hand through his hair. “You and me both.” Not liking the way she eyed him, Max walked across the room and leaned against the wall, giving her plenty of space and shoving his hands in his pockets while simultaneously telling himself to stay here and not touch her, no matter what happened next. There was no easy way to do this, so Max just dived in. “I’ve been using you,” he blurted.

  Her head rocked back a bit, and she blinked. “Using me?” Her brows drew together. “Using me?” Her arms tightened around her stomach. “I take it you mean for more than just sating the Impulse.”

  And the fact that she seemed to think him using her for that was in any way acceptable nearly made him vomit on the spot. “What we just did…” He paused to point to the bed, and her eyes followed. A blush spread on her cheeks, and she looked away. “That was not using, Anahita, you hear me? That was ... not using.” His fucking voice cracked, and he closed his eyes. He obviously couldn’t talk about that anymore. “We’ve been spying on you,” he said, his voice firm once more. “Using you for intel against the armies of heaven.”

  She laughed, and her arms dropped from her waist. “Oh, really,” she said, smiling. “And you are confessing now because you realize how ineffective such a thing turned out to be?”

  “I told them,” he blurted.

  She froze. “Told them what?”

  “What you told me in confidence. That you’re half Guardian. That you are ... my Guardian. That I can keep you from completing your mission.”

  Her expression didn’t change, but she said, “Oh.”

  He was truly going to be sick. His eyes searched the walls for a thermostat, hoping he could maybe generate some more air. Nothing in this room, and he couldn’t bear to walk out and look for it elsewhere. He sucked in a steady breath and willed it to help. “And, we were able to gather more information than you probably guessed.” He was all-in now. “That this mission stands between you and becoming a Warrior. That Remiel is—”

  “Enough,” she cut him off. “Well.” She cleared her throat. “It seems humans are more resourceful than we have given them credit for.”

  “Ana, I’m sorr—”

  “Do not call me that.” She pushed to her feet, and a hot blast shot from her body, making Max sweat even more. “Did you also find out that I have to complete my mission or I go to my death? That you die, or I do?”

  Max felt the blood drain from his face. “What?”

  “Hmm. Missed that part, did we?” Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I had hoped that we ... I thought to find another way…” She broke off. Her wings fluttered behind her. “My misguidedness does not bear discussion now, at any rate.”

  Max drew his hands from his pockets and held them out in front of him. “Okay, Ana ... hita,” he finished when her eyes narrowed. “Let’s just take a breath.” In all of the scenarios that had played out in his mind, Max had never seen anything but her leaving him. Her life could be forfeited? And she looked as though she were preparing to attack. This was ... unexpected. As her stance changed, the Knowledge in his eye began screaming that she was evil.

  “Perhaps you should not have been so cocky in your assumptions of your power over me.” And then she reached beneath the edge of the bed and drew out a long sword that was flickering with black and red flames.

  In the next instant, her eyes shot through to straight black. For the first time since encountering her in his dim cell, Max was sure of one thing: she could and would kill him.

  • • •

  The world simplified in an instant. Black and white. Wrong, right. This human had done wrong.

  He seemed desperate for her to understand. Understand what? That he followed type? That he was as bad as all of the other deceptive, manipulating human beings? Even as these thoughts formulated, she could not figure out why they seemed accompanied by emotional pain. Angels did not feel such things. And what could he have done to her to merit such a visceral response?

  Even in her black and white vision, she could see that he was pale. The finest indications of suffering played across his scarred face. His brows were drawn; his hands were supplicating.

  A distant corner of her mind screamed at her to stop what she was getting ready to do before it was too late, and it was screaming loudly and desperately enough that Anahita paused as she stalked toward him. It sounded as though it were screaming the word protect.

  Anahita shook her head in an attempt to dislodge that voice from her mind, but it would not budge. In her black and white mindset, she could not figure out why such a voice would even exist within a Warrior. She felt as though she were forgetting—or missing—something.

  She narrowed her eyes at the target. He had a mark on his neck, and as she noticed it, an ache panged in her belly. She had the overwhelming feeling that she had given him that mark—and not in violence.

  “Who ... are you?” she asked suddenly.

  “You don’t ... you don’t know who I am?” he asked. “Ana,” he said, straightening. “Pretty baby, focus.”

  She shook her head. “No.” He took liberties. Shortening her name? Pretty baby?

  “You’re mad. I get it.” His words came fast. “But Remiel was using you too, Ana. We had to figure out why.”

  Some of the chaos in her mind evaporated. “Remiel? What about Remiel?”

  He dared to take a step forward, and she flicked her sword up, the point nestling in the vulnerable spot at the base of his throat. She should just finish this now. She tensed.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he whispered hoarsely, “We think Remiel is leading a rebel army, angel, and you’re his weapon of choice.”

  Blood ran cold through her already chilly heart. “More deception,” she spat.

  “Truth, angel,” he said. He smiled softly. “Surely you can tell at this moment.”

  She narrowed her eyes. He was right. She sensed no untruth in him, and her black and white vision would be able to do so. Still. Her mission—

  She pressed the sword forward slightly, stabilizing it before thrusting home. He sucked in a breath, and a single crimson droplet gathered in the dip of his throat beneath her sword, and then began to track down his bare chest.

  Her lips parted around a whimper. She had hurt him.

  She had hurt him!

  “M-Max?”

  His eyes grew glassy. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, pretty baby?”

  Between one blink and the next, her black and white vision vanished to be replaced by a golden glow. She heard Max mutter, “Thank God,” but she was almost too distracted to notice. That crimson trail down Max’s chest glowed the brightest gold. Her eyes followed it up to the sword, and down the sword’s blade to her double-handed grip. Her hands were glowing the brightest of all.

  She was the biggest threat to his safety.

  With a cry, she drew back the sword and dropped it. It clanged against the floor.

  “Ana,” Max said quickly, stepping forward with his hands outstretched.

  “Stop!” she yelled, taking a step backward. “You’re bleeding.”

  “I don’t fucking care,” he said, continuing forward.

  “Don’t let me touch you!” she pleaded, holding her hands out in front of her and hoping to ward him off. “Oh, holy God. You will d
ie from that, Max.”

  That finally stopped him. With drawn brows, he raised one hand and dabbed at the almost negligible wound on his neck. He glanced down at his red-smeared fingers and then looked back up at her. “From this?” he asked.

  “It will never heal,” she said. “You need the Tree.”

  “Okay,” he said slowly, drawing out the word. “We have the Tree, Ana. It’s okay.” He stepped toward her again but froze when she moaned. “I’m more worried about you at the moment.”

  “Oh, go,” she said. “Please ... just go. Jayden knows how to help you fix the cut.”

  He stared at her for several long moments before sighing, and she relaxed, realizing he was finally listening to her. His eyes darted to the door and then back to her. “I’m coming right back, Ana. You stay right here.”

  Anahita did not bother to answer; she could not answer through the tumultuous rioting of her thoughts. He backed out of the room, keeping his eyes upon her at all times until he was out of sight. Anahita heard the apartment door open then close.

  A flood of anger and rage—mostly self-directed—swept over her, and in a snap, she’d snatched up the sword. “Remiel!” she yelled to the ceiling. She waited only a moment before bellowing his name again.

  That angel was going to show his face, or she was going to him, and he would not like it. Were the humans right? Was Remiel ... using her? She clenched the hilt of her sword even tighter and charged into the living room area, only to pull up short.

  Remiel stood in the center. He crossed his arms and wore the closest thing to a scowl Anahita had ever seen on any angel’s face. “So, you summon me now, is that it?”

  He was here. He was here? Yes, she had been determined to see him, but she had been sure her attempts to summon him would not work.

  Holy God, she could summon! She was one of the few angels who had more than one or two gifts. How many centuries had she wasted being at the beck and call of others when she could have been the one doing the calling? Perhaps she should have tried it earlier. Perhaps she should try more things.