by Sadie Moss
As fireworks seem to go off inside me, I make a noise in the back of my throat and reach for Knight, pulling him down with me as I lie back on the couch. My wings spread out beneath me as his body drapes over mine, and I kiss him the way I’ve been wanting to ever since we sat down together on the couch.
Everything about him is sweet and restrained as he kisses me back, but his hands grow more and more bold as they move over my body, skimming over the silky fabric of my short nightgown and the bare skin of my legs and arms.
Not sure if he’ll take the initiative to do it himself, I work on getting my panties off before reaching for his shirt and tugging it over his head. I hesitate a little when I reach for the waistband of his pants, giving him time to stop me if he wants to. But he doesn’t, just watches me with those dark eyes that seem to see absolutely everything.
This is my first time being the one who’s “steering the ship” during sex, so to speak, but I tamp down my nervousness and just do what feels good.
And in this moment, what feels good is kissing Knight again. Wrapping my legs around him and rubbing against him, grinding my clit against the base of his cock. The material of my nightgown is bunched up around my waist, and when Knight pulls the stretchy top down, exposing my breasts, I feel like cheering.
I arch my back, offering myself to him, and an intense look passes over his face before he lowers his head and laps tentatively at one nipple. The noise I make must encourage him, because he does it again before drawing the whole thing into his mouth and sucking. I slide my fingers through his hair, staring up at the ceiling as I try not to let my eyes roll back in my head from the bursts of pleasure shooting through me.
“I want to know your language,” I whisper. “I watch you every time you sign, and I’m trying to learn what every single gesture means. I want to be able to talk to you, Knight. A real back and forth, where you talk and I listen. I want to know what you’re saying with your beautiful, long fingers. I want to know what’s in your head.”
Knight goes still, his lips still pressed to the skin of my breast. I realize with a start that I just babbled all of that out loud. I’ve had that thought a million times before, but I’ve never told him how desperate I am to know his language.
Shoot. Did I just ruin the mood with my weird confession? I basically just admitted to watching him like a stalker, trying to pick up his language.
He lifts his head slowly, and the dim light spilling in through the windows makes his eyes gleam darkly. He blinks down at me, looking almost shocked.
Then, slowly, he reaches down between us and fists his cock. I feel the broad head nudge my entrance as he lines himself up, then he’s pressing inside me.
Holy crap. It feels so good.
He moves slowly, achingly so, every inch careful and deliberate. Even when he’s fully rooted inside me and begins to thrust, there’s nothing but gentleness in his actions.
But I like it.
I like when Ford or Beckett fucks me hard, but I like this just as much. Knight isn’t either of those men, and I don’t want him to be. I only want him to be himself. And this is who he is.
We rock together, and every time he fills me up, his pubic bone rubs my clit in the most delicious way. My wings curl around us, forming a cocoon that encapsulates us as they embrace him just like my arms do. He shivers at the feel of my feathers brushing his back, and we kiss and kiss until I think I might drown in it.
This is just as overwhelming as a hard, sweaty fuck. But it’s overwhelming in a different way. I feel like we’re melting into each other, slowly fusing as our bodies move in sync.
Pleasure builds inside me, radiating outward from my core into each of my limbs, and I whimper into Knight’s mouth. When I come, it’s just as slow and deep as everything else, a wave that seems to go on forever, cresting over and over again as I squeeze my legs around his hips.
His steady rhythm stutters, and he presses his forehead against mine, breaking the contact of our lips as he stares down at me. His body shakes, and I swear I hear a low sound spill from his lips as he finds his release too.
It’s the only time I’ve ever heard him make a single noise, and the quiet sound lands directly in my heart, making the overworked organ race as the last waves of my orgasm finally subside.
I’m not sure why, but tears prick at my eyes. I blink them away, not wanting Knight to misinterpret them and think that I’m sad or hurt. Because I’m not either of those things.
I’m… changed.
My entire world feels altered somehow, and I know I’ll never been the same person I was an hour ago. Because that Trinity didn’t know what it was like to have Knight inside her. She didn’t know what it was like to hold him like this, wrapped in a blanket of her own wings, and feel at peace like this.
With a soft exhale, Knight rolls us over onto our sides, careful not to crush or tug on my wings as he does. He holds me tightly as we lie together, more tightly than any of the others ever have—not even Nix or Remi, who are both energetic cuddlers.
I like it.
I like feeling precious.
I cling to him tightly too, trying to reassure him that I’m not going to walk away or be taken from him. That even though so much of his existence is spent coveting what he can’t have, he has me in this moment. Fully and completely.
Maybe I do know what I want, I realize, my fingertips stroking up and down his arm as we both fall into sleep.
Maybe I just need to be brave enough to admit it.
Chapter Nine
TRINITY
Getting to Hell is not going to be an easy thing.
We can’t just open up a portal in Nix’s place. For one thing, he would never forgive us if we destroyed his beloved home-slash-fortress. For another, none of us know how to open a portal even if we wanted to. And if we did manage to do it, there’s no guarantee that we could keep demons from escaping the underworld and coming to Earth.
This is definitely the kind of situation where it’s best to find an expert rather than trying to muddle through on our own. Sort of like how it’s usually a better idea to call an electrician than to try rewiring your house after watching a couple of YouTube tutorials.
Only in this case, the stakes are about a billion times higher.
So we’re going to go to someone the brothers know, a man who can help us get into Downstairs without unleashing the forces of evil on an unsuspecting mortal populace.
Again.
It means a road trip all the way up to the Canadian border, and we’ll have to be careful the entire time. We could be attacked along the way, even though it’s not too long of a trip.
We eat a quick breakfast and then get ready to head out, and I try to tamp down my nerves as the eggs I just ate churn in my stomach.
I’ve never been to Downstairs. None of my kind have—not since the war first started, way back before I was created. And I’m pretty terrified, to be honest. I know that the men will do whatever they can to help keep me safe, but there’s no guarantee of that. And there’s no guarantee that any of the sins will make it out alive either.
They’re powerful, sure, but are they powerful enough to stand up against any corrupted we may come across? I have no idea, especially if we wind up in a situation where we’re outnumbered.
I was also wrong about there not being a car big enough to fit all seven of the sins and me. Nix has a huge garage, and he leads us toward a massive SUV parked at the far end. I get the sense that the men don’t want to split up at all if they can help it, and I can’t help but be grateful for that.
What we’re about to do is scary as hell, literally. It feels less daunting when we approach it as a unit.
Ryland and Beckett take the front seats, with Beckett sliding in behind the wheel. I wonder if he and Ryland played rock-paper-scissors for who gets to drive or what. There’s no way Ry ceded that position without some kind of fight.
I end up all the way in the back, between Nix and Remi. That suits me just
fine. They’re the most physically affectionate of all the men—although Sawyer has his moments, and Knight couldn’t stop smiling shyly at me from across the table this morning.
The car starts with a loud rumble, and Beckett pulls out of the garage, navigating us off the large property where Nix’s house sits. True to Nix’s “fuck off” landscaping theme, it’s a lot simpler to leave than it is to reach the house on the way in.
Tension fills the car, and although we’re all on edge, I can’t help but notice that most of it is coming from the front.
“What happened?” I whisper, watching as Ryland stiffly gives Beckett directions but they otherwise don’t speak. “Between the two of them?”
I don’t know how much Sawyer, Knight, and Ford can hear in the middle row, but if they can eavesdrop on our quiet conversation, they’re pretending they can’t. Knight is stuck in between Sawyer and Ford, probably in a futile attempt to stop Ford from reaching across and trying to hit or strangle Sawyer if Lust annoys him too much.
Luckily, Beckett and Ryland can’t hear anything.
“Shouldn’t they get along?” I whisper, glancing over at Remington. “They’re so similar, and they work so well together.”
He sighs, running a hand through his red-brown hair.
“They used to,” Nix mumbles, answering for him.
“Someone… came between them,” Remi says carefully. “They won’t really…” He sighs again, and there’s a heaviness to it that tells me as much as his words ever could. “Anyway. They’re both stubborn, which I’m sure doesn’t come as a shock to you. They each swore never to forgive the other, and so far, they’ve stuck to their vows. It’s been like this ever since.”
I wind a finger around my dark hair as I consider his words.
Someone came between them.
Given the bitterness and strength of their animosity, I’m going to guess a woman. It couldn’t have been just a friend or some random person or a client. The only kind of love that I know of that would tear two close brothers apart is a romantic one.
I’m a bit ashamed of myself, but I find myself feeling jealous of this woman, whoever she was.
Ryland seems to simultaneously hate me and crave me, and Beckett does everything in his power to keep himself at a safe emotional distance, despite the few times his walls have come down.
Yet somehow, this other person got close to them. To both of them. She earned their intimacy, their trust, and their affection. Enough that whatever happened between the three of them drove an unbreakable wedge between the two men.
I want that. Not the “driving a wedge between them” part. But the part where I gain their trust. Their affection.
Their love.
I want it more than I realized until just this moment.
But aside from my jealousy—and man, I really wish I could say I was the kind of person who doesn’t get jealous—I also feel sorry for them. They must’ve had such a strong and long-lasting bond before this person came into their lives, and then it all fell apart.
That has to hurt, doesn’t it?
I wonder if, underneath the greed and the pride, they really do miss each other. All that love doesn’t go away at the drop of a hat, even if you’re angry with someone. Pride and Greed are both such isolating sins, but at least if they had each other, they’d have someone to lean on.
Remi studies me as I gaze up toward the front of the SUV, and his expression softens, the line between his eyebrows smoothing out. He leans closer to me, pressing a kiss to my cheek, just at the corner of my mouth.
“We’re lucky you found us, Trin,” he murmurs. “They may not have forgiven each other, but this is the first time they’ve worked together in years. You’re good for us.”
My heart swells a little at the honesty in his voice, and I turn my head so that our kiss turns into a real one. His lips are firm and warm, purposeful, and his tongue slides out to taste my lips before he pulls back.
“Ah, I see how it is. If that’s how we’re passing the time on this little trip, I’m sorry it’s not a longer drive,” Nix jokes as his fingers catch my chin, turning me toward him. He kisses me too, taking things a little deeper than his brother did, making my heart beat faster and my breath pick up.
Huh. Maybe a little jealousy isn’t always a bad thing.
Knight glances back at me from the middle seat, and I swear a tiny smile tugs at the corners of his lips.
The drive really doesn’t take that long, which is both a good thing and a bad thing. The man we’re going to see lives just south of the border, in the middle of the woods like Nix—but unlike Nix, his house is small and cozy, basically a cabin. I’m sure it has magical protections of some kind, just like Valentina’s shop, but without any of the crazy fortress security stuff that Nix has for his place.
As we pull up, the cabin door opens. An older man steps out. He looks to be in his late fifties or early sixties, but not nearly as old as I was picturing. He doesn’t have a beard or anything like that. In fact, he looks kind of brawny. When I see the large pile of chopped wood for the fireplace stacked up neatly by the side of the house, I can understand why.
“Isaac,” Ryland says as we all climb out of the car. “Good to see you.”
I can’t imagine Ryland being glad to see anyone, but he seems a bit less cold than usual when he shakes Isaac’s hand.
The man grins. “Good to see you again, Ryland. Never thought I’d see you out of the city away from that fancy office of yours.”
“It was necessary.”
The rest of us step away from the SUV, and Isaac greets each of the guys with a firm handshake. He eyes me up and down with a big grin on his face as he shakes my hand, his large hand totally engulfing mine. “Well, well, well. So you’re the little lady who’s caused all this trouble.”
“I didn’t mean to cause it, if that helps,” I say with a shrug.
Isaac laughs. “I’m sure you didn’t. The best kinds of trouble never do. All right, let’s get inside.”
The inside of the cabin reminds me of the other witches’ places we’ve visited. There are books and potions stacked everywhere, knickknacks and brick-a-brack scattered wherever there’s proper room for it. But unlike those other places, this seems to also be Isaac’s home. There’s a ladder that leads up to a loft bed, a cozy fireplace, a kitchen area, and what looks like a very large and relaxing bath that I catch sight of through a doorway.
“Been a while since I used the portal,” Isaac explains, and immediately I’m distracted from the warm, cozy atmosphere as wariness tightens my gut.
Right. This guy isn’t just some cabin-dwelling hermit. He’s a powerful sorcerer who has a literal circle that he uses to summon demons. It can also be used to send people to Hell, which is why we need it.
What sort of person has a circle that can do that?
I look over at the others. Remi gives me a reassuring smile. “Ryland’s acquaintances run the gamut,” he says quietly, “but Isaac is pretty neutral. He’s more interested in study and the pursuit of knowledge than in good or evil or anything else. He’s not malicious. He wouldn’t do anything to really hurt us.”
That’s a bit reassuring, I suppose.
Isaac chants something, and the large rug on the floor rolls back before a trapdoor opens. I jump in surprise. I had no idea that was there.
The older man notices my reaction and grins at me. “You can’t find that door by any normal means, little lady. You gotta know the incantation.”
That’s good, I guess. It’s like the supernatural equivalent of putting firearms in a gun safe. If you’re gonna mess with potentially deadly magic, it’s a good idea to keep it under tight lockdown.
There’s a ladder that leads down. Isaac leads the way, and we all climb down it one by one, ending up in a large, well-lit space underground.
Some of it looks like a food storage area, with barrels of salted meat, corn hanging from the ceiling, and jars of jams and preserved fruit on the shelves. Clearly
, Isaac tries to be as self-sufficient as possible while out here.
But over on the other end of the room is what must really be his workshop. There are posters and diagrams up on the wall that detail various spells and runes, a desk with papers strewn all over it, and in the middle, a ring of candles that burn with flames of green and purple surround an empty space on the floor.
“Purple is the color of magic. Green is the color of life,” Beck says quietly to me. “They’re to keep the circle pure of any angelic or demonic influences, since magic and life are neutral forces.”
That makes sense. I’ve heard about “green” magic, versus “white” or “black” magic. The green stuff is just about the pursuit of knowledge and life without trying to accomplish a good or bad agenda. That must be what Isaac is doing.
“I have to say, you’ll be the first angel I’ve ever sent through this thing,” Isaac observes, searching through some potions on a shelf. “Part of why I agreed to this. It’s gonna be fascinating to record how it goes. If you make it back alive, you’ll have to tell me all about your experience so I can record it.”
“Uh…” I swallow.
On the one hand, it’s nice that he’s so friendly and polite, but on the other hand, his nonchalance about this whole thing is a bit disconcerting. Our actual lives are at stake here, and he’s acting like this is just a fun intellectual exercise.
“Of course,” Ryland says smoothly, although I notice his eyes narrow slightly as he gazes at the man.
Isaac finds a small glass bottle with a kind of blue potion inside of it. He makes a noise with his tongue against his teeth, nodding in satisfaction as he shakes it slightly and passes it to me.
“Why is it blue?” I ask.
“Because I flavored it with blueberry syrup,” Isaac replies. “That whole thing with potions tasting nasty is so old fashioned. I think most magic users do it so that they look tough. As if the worse something tastes, the more powerful it is. I want my stuff to taste good.”
