Sliding from the bed, he shed his clothes in record time, before crawling over her like she was his prey and he was intent on capturing her by any means necessary. Once he'd settled himself between her thighs again, he stole another kiss. He couldn't get enough of the way she responded to him.
Wasting no time, he reached between them, aligning their bodies perfectly.
Giving her a moment's respite, he waited until she'd wrapped her legs around his hips again before thrusting forward, sheathing himself in her welcoming heat. Baylin fit him as if she was the lock and he was the key. Their bodies simply intertwined perfectly with no effort, the universal balance. She was going to burn him alive, and he'd go gladly into the flames as long as it meant staying here with her, just like this, for a little while longer.
Teeth clenched, Raziel froze as he struggled to remain in control. He could hear the insidious whispers in his mind, the shadows wanting to creep in as the darkness took him under. The urge to feed, the bloodlust, was rising. The coming tide almost impossible to hold back if he let it swell too far.
He would not hurt her. He couldn't.
It didn't matter whether Archangel or Beast was running this machine, this broken body. He was not a mindless animal. He was still just a man, even a tainted one. And with this claiming, she was his female. His to protect, his to cherish. Nothing would harm her, he would make sure of that.
He just had to make sure to protect her from himself.
Chapter Nineteen
As her nails dug into his shoulders, the slight pinch of pain brought him back to himself, drowned out the voices for the moment. Opening his eyes, the halo of crimson that had eclipsed everything slowly receded, leaving only Baylin. As her body cradled his, he began to move, slowly at first, before he simply couldn't stop himself from taking everything she offered and more.
Each time he withdrew, her hips lifted to follow him, keeping them connected like a live circuit that had no end and kept feeding each other. Bracing one arm over her shoulder, their eyes met and held as he reached between them with his free hand, thumb stroking against her swollen clit each time he surged forward. Her tiny pants and moans so close to his ear had him on razor's edge, but he refused to give in to the swirling tempest rising within him. He was stronger than this!
He could feel her tighten around him, see her eyes go wide a moment before she moaned his name, toes curling into his thighs as she held on, rocking against him as she mumbled incoherent words of praise. At least, that's what he thought they were. He couldn't quite tell. As she went limp and relaxed her grip on him, he growled, nipping at her bottom lip roughly.
"You don't think I'm done with you, do you, darling?"
By her face, she had. Rearing back to his knees, he gripped her waist, encouraging her to roll. Once she was on her stomach, he nudged her legs until she raised upward on her knees. God, she was gorgeous like this. Laid out like an offering, rounded curves of her ass in the air, face buried against the pillow. She truly had no idea how breathtaking she was. He'd like to be able to show her.
Positioning himself behind her, he slammed deep without preamble, relishing the startled yelp she gave. One hand cinched around her waist, while the other curled around silken strands of hair, tightening them in his fist.
Like this, she was helpless, unable to do anything but feel, to accept him. To allow him to use her body as he needed. It sounded perverse, but she instantly welcomed it, tense muscles going lax, arms stretching above her head to grip the wrought-iron headboard.
She humbled him. Over and over again, she took what he gave out and made it into something more, turned his darkness into a possession, a welcome reprieve. He stopped being careful, stopped worrying about hurting her. Each thrust was to the hilt, her entire body trembling as she cried out, hands tightening on the metal in her grip.
When her legs began to slide down, he served a rough slap against one ass cheek, the reddened palm print making him more pleased than it should. It didn't help that he could feel her getting wetter, her body clenching down tighter. She was enjoying this. She liked it. "Don't fucking move, Baylin. That's an order."
She nodded her head, mumbling "Yes, Sir" into the pillow, and the words did something to him, twisted something darker in him that he'd been trying so hard to keep at bay. Looping his arm under her stomach, he lifted her higher, changing the angle until she was spread across his knees, holding herself up by the headboard.
He didn't even bother withdrawing fully anymore, curling his hands around her hips and dragging her down as he snapped his hips forward. Her moans were edged with a tinge of desperation now, of that thin line between pleasure and pain. His balls tightened, drawing up as he felt her quivering.
As she trembled and twisted in his arms, he finally let go, allowing himself to join her in release for the first time tonight. He didn't even realize his nails had dug into her hips hard enough to leave crescent shaped indentations as red flooded his vision, and this time he couldn't stop it.
Her throat was bared to his gaze, the pulse thrumming just beneath her skin as her skin pinkened from her climax. As aftershocks rocked her, her felt her hand slide down between her thighs, brushing against his still-hard cock as she edged on the orgasm for both of them, tiny fingertips stroking and teasing both of them where they were joined.
Raziel felt the fangs in his mouth shifting downward. The roaring in his ears drowned out everything, everything except the sound of her racing heartbeat, like thundering hooves on the battlefield.
The urge to drink, to bend his head and draw succor from her was overwhelming, it consumed his every thought and was so powerful, he couldn't break away from the spell she had him under. Dragging his teeth over her neck, her soft whimper as she tilted her head to give him more access finally broke through slightly.
She trusted him. And he was a monster. Pulling free from her, he yanked on his jeans. Then like a coward, he ran.
Chapter Twenty
He had no idea where he was going. He was barefoot and shirtless, wearing only the jeans he'd grabbed before fleeing. The sun hadn't even fully risen yet, and here he was, running from himself. How did one escape something inside of them? The call of birds and animals echoed through the canopy in the rain forest he'd sought shelter in, walking along the predefined paths before veering off into the deeper thicket.
Raziel just needed to get away long enough to get control of himself. To banish the thoughts swirling in his mind. To corral the beast that would have him harm the woman he'd come to care for. He wasn't that person. He couldn't be. He may be damned, but he was not going to hurt Baylin. If that meant separating, he would need to be strong enough to do so. Raking his hands through his hair, he dropped to sit on a downed tree, feeling even lower than he had before.
What must Baylin think? He'd left her directly after a damn orgasm, for fucks sake. If that didn't say 'unstable', he wasn't sure what did. He wouldn't be surprised to find she was already gone when he got back. Truthfully, he couldn't blame her, either. He wasn't safe to be around if he couldn't control himself. Except, technically he had. He'd recognized the signs of something being wrong and had escaped before harming anyone. He hadn't been able to do that before.
Whether it seemed like it or not, this was actually progress. Though the honest part of his brain knew had it not been Baylin, he may not have fought as hard as he did. That was a truth he had to face, as regrettable as it was. He wasn't a virtuous man, as much as he liked to think so. Hell, he wasn't a virtuous angel. He'd sinned. He'd made mistakes. It seemed now he was paying his penance. Except he couldn't live with himself if the price for his misdeeds was hurting Baylin.
Heart heavy, he began walking back, hands in his pockets as he ignored the stones and sticks underfoot. The scratches and bruises would heal. Having something else to focus on might be good for him, anyway. He hadn't realized he'd gotten so far from their cabin, but this gave her time to leave if she truly wanted to. It'd be better to let her make a clean
break if she desired, with no awkward goodbyes.
He didn't expect to find her there. He'd convinced himself she wouldn't be. So to find her still curled up on the bed was a tormented feeling... half relief, half resignation. He wanted her there, yet he wanted her gone so he wouldn't hurt her. Emotions were a bitch to tolerate. He much preferred life when he didn't have anything of his own to care deeply about.
"Baylin?" Clearing his throat, he gave her a sheepish look as she jerked awake from her light doze, blinking blearily at him. Still naked, he could see the marks he'd left on her, and it shamed him far more than words could have. "I'm so sorry. You have my word, this won't happen again."
Her confused look caught him by surprise as she glanced down at herself before narrowing her eyes at him. He could already tell a scolding was coming, and he wasn't disappointed.
"You're an idiot. I know you may not know this, but rough sex is not a deterrent for women in the 21st century, Raziel. I understood when I saw your eyes that you may need to leave the situation to get yourself under control. That wasn't a surprise. You seem to be intent on beating yourself up because I won't. Stop putting words and actions on me when I've said and done nothing of the sort."
He wasn't sure he would ever understand women, or at least, this woman. But he was happy to take the reprieve she offered. She was a far rarer gem than he'd first imagined. She was one of a kind. He knew he'd have to eventually let her go, but he pushed that thought to the back of his mind for now.
"Thank you. For understanding. It's... I don't know when it will strike, or how to keep it at bay. All I knew is that I didn't want to hurt you, so I ran as far as I could into the trees so I couldn't double back once I receded and the beast took over. It worked. This time. I can't guarantee it will next time. You need to be aware of that, Baylin. This is dangerous."
She snorted, tossing a newspaper at him. "I'm aware, Raziel. I'm not a helpless female. I have no problems defending myself if I have to. Now, while you've been off having your red-eyed pity party, I've been working. One of the hotel employees slid these under the doors this morning. It's the local newspaper. You might find the story on page two interesting. I did, at least."
Raising a brow, he caught the paper one handed before opening it to the page she'd mentioned. According to the story, the small indigenous village of Wujal Wujal was where they were headed. Apparently a woman had gotten sick with some kind of bacterial infection.
Rather than going to the small local hospital with a few volunteer medical staff, she'd tried to treat it with herbal preparations. They hadn't worked and the infection had gone septic. It was too late for modern medicine at that point.
She'd gone to a healer known only as Jarli, located on the northern side of the river, who had said some prayers and done his rituals. A few days later, she was seen on the river, back to fishing for her family's meals. It appeared as if nothing had ever been wrong with her, she was hearty and whole. No herbal preparation or even antibiotic would have worked that fast. There was nothing else to call it except a miracle.
If Gabriel had mentioned this, Raziel had a sneaking suspicion Jarli had possession of some type of angelic relic. They were well-known for miracles at various cathedrals and reliquaries, but most cast them aside as flights of fancy, myths, or falsified reports for the gullible. Smaller relics from saints weren't as powerful, so those miracles were left alone to do good for the people in the world.
Angelic relics could do more harm than good in the long run, however, so if that's what this was, it needed to be retrieved. Somehow, Raziel didn't think Jarli would be all that forthcoming about it. Especially if he was aware it was the source of his miraculous 'powers'.
"So we're going to the northern side. Let's hope he's reasonable, otherwise this could be tricky. We're the outsiders here, which means his people will back him if we attempt to take the relic by force. Especially if he lets on that without it, he wouldn't be able to perform miracles for them anymore."
Raziel had plenty of misgivings about this, but he didn't share them. The Aboriginals were friendly to tourists, as it brought money into the region, but they were still tribes-people at heart.
This was an incredibly small community, the brochures at the resort boasted Wujal Wujal had once been a center for visiting missionaries. They'd been run out and the people formed their own council and government. There were only around 400 permanent residents, which meant everyone likely knew each other. The people didn't know them.
After the morning they'd had, he didn't want to put Baylin in more danger. It wasn't his choice though, he knew she was likely to argue if he insisted on leaving her behind. She wouldn't stay put, either, she'd just follow.
At least with her at his side, he could protect her far easier than if she was lurking somewhere behind him. Tugging on his shirt and shoes, he secured his Dracium blades to the belt the leather sheaths were attached to. They weren't as hidden as they were against his normal clothing, but it would have to do.
Chapter Twenty-One
The only way to get from the resort to Wujal Wujal was a 4x4 vehicle. The roads weren't paved, leading around and occasionally through the river, where rain occasionally washed them out. The winding trails were steep in places, if it was the rainy season, they'd be near impassable. Since they didn't want to apparate in and frighten everyone, arriving via normal means seemed most sensible.
That, and after Baylin's illness, Raziel didn't want to risk her needing to get them there, just in case it caused her to get sick again. Add that to the ever-lengthening list of things they needed to figure out before this mission was finished. Holding onto the roll bar with one hand, he curled the other around her waist, keeping her flush against him as the driver navigated the muddy trenches of the Daintree basin which criss-crossed the road at various intervals.
The ride wasn't for the faint-hearted. He could tell why the brochures had mentioned the place was popular with adventurists and eco-tourists. This was off the beaten path, quite literally. After a harrowing 30 kilometeres, which were helpfully marked off by faded wooden signs at the side of the paths, they arrived at Wujal Wujal.
More signs, warning visitors not to bring alcohol into the community. Directions to the hospital and emergency helipad, as well as to the Binal Mangka Bayan, the Indigenous Knowledge Center. The place offered books, magazines, educational programs, and even internet access. That made his lips twitch somewhat. In the modern world, it seemed even the tribes of Australia had realized the perks of the world wide web of information.
Raziel paid the driver handsomely, hoping to earn at least one person in the area who had a good word to say about them. Inquiring as to the whereabouts of Jarli, they were directed to a small home at the end of the community.
To his shock, Raziel had greatly underestimated this place. He'd expected homes made of natural materials, an undeveloped rainforest village like others he'd seen or been described over the years. This wasn't St. Augustine, by any means, but these people were clearly hard-working.
The homes were normal. They wouldn't stand out anywhere else, except for the brightly painted murals that decorated them. The lone general store was the same, a beautiful mural of the Wujal Falls emblazoned on its side. The clothing the people wore was more cultural, but the fabrics were rich and deep, and all shades of the rainbow. This place was a riot of color and textures, almost overwhelming.
As they walked, people waved and smiled, kids running to say hello. Baylin was in her element, chatting away, kicking soccer balls that drifted into their midst back to their owners. She was definitely the ambassador between the two of them.
When they asked for candy, he noticed her discretely reaching into her empty pockets, which 'magically' filled with brightly wrapped sweets. Raising his brow at her, she shrugged before turning her attention back to the reaching hands, ensuring everyone got a few pieces.
Now with an entourage, they made it to Jarli's residence, only to find him waiting on the little porch
as if expecting them. Without a word, he motioned them forward, leaving the door open as he went back inside, a clear invitation for them to follow. Not knowing what to expect, Raziel instinctively shifted, putting himself in front of Baylin slightly. If anything happened, they'd need to get through him first.
As the door closed behind them, he spotted Jarli, sitting cross-legged on a thick carpet, a squat round table in front of him on the floor. Scattered across the surface were several pebbles, feathers and other objects, along with the leather bag they'd been removed from. It looked entirely too much like witchcraft for Raziel's comfort, but he understood Aboriginal traditions were different than most. If this man was able to use an angelic relic with good results, he was a devout soul.
Knowing that, Raziel finally dropped to his knees across from him, tugging Baylin down with them. As the man perused the tokens, his lip pursed in annoyance. Shaking a few more onto the table, he appeared to see what he needed to, as he swept everything back into the leather bag, turning to face them once more.
As he spoke, another male in the shadows stepped forward to translate, for which Raziel was grateful. He could understand most languages courtesy of his angelic genetics, but trying to keep Baylin caught up while listening at the same time would cause them both to miss things.
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