Chapter Thirteen
Dommiel
We’d delivered the women and children to Cooper at a high school in Chiswick, now one of the hideouts of the London Twelvers. I’d recognized Coffee Girl, one of Cooper’s soldiers as one of the captives. Something had compelled me to get her out of there. Get as many of them out as possible. Was it Anya’s influence? Her good deeds rubbing off on the likes of me? It felt uncomfortable. Irritating. But also right. And if that didn’t surprise the hell out of me.
“This way,” said Xander, leading us out the parking lot behind the building.
I’d sifted back to the alley outside my basement apartment and grabbed my satchel after our delivery of the captives. I hiked it higher now, feeling more solid with the weight of weapons and drakuls on my shoulder.
Before we even hit the street, Xander turned and grabbed mine and Anya’s arms, sifting us to the white stoop of a posh flat in Chelsea. He unlocked the door, then took my arm again so I could cross the warded threshold.
Once more, I felt a push and pull like I did when I entered the Longhena Library in San Maggiore. The sucking sensation on my chest eased as we made our way into Xander’s pristine pad. A wash of white marble, gray furniture, and clean lines. Without a backward glance, he strode toward the bar near the wall of windows overlooking the Thames. The moon had come out of the clouds, casting its cool light across the white marble floors.
“The electricity comes and goes on this end. King Henry never could keep his realm operating properly.”
“Is that why Simian and Rook are taking over?”
I knew if those two fuckers were milling around London, that meant they had plans to take over.
“King Henry is dead. Long live the kings.”
“Fuck.”
King Henry, I could handle. The twin princes were another level altogether. Sadistic and twisted to the nth degree.
Xander picked up a bottle of whisky. “How about a drink?”
“Yes,” I agreed, shooting yet another deadly look at Anya.
A drink would simmer my nerves. But if she thought our conversation about Simian was over, she was out of luck.
“No thank you,” she replied quietly, taking a position at the window and looked out at the Thames.
“Now,” continued Xander, walking from around the bar and handing me a tumbler of whisky. “Tell me how you two happen to be together.”
I took the glass he offered, draining it in one swallow. “Interesting story, that.”
“I’m sure.” Nodding at my empty glass. “Another?”
“No need to play host. I’ll get it.”
A cryptic smile. He sipped from his glass, eyeing the silent Anya over the rim as I crossed to the bar.
“We’re on a quest to find Uriel,” said Anya steadily. Softly.
“Somehow, I knew that’s where you’d disappeared to.”
Anya turned, keeping her position near the window, her wings tucked tightly to her back. “We’ve discovered that he’s being held in Russia by Vladek’s witch, Lisabette.”
“Bloody hell.”
Xander drained his glass and sauntered back to me at the bar, setting his glass down. I poured another for him.
“I wish you both luck.” He eyed me curiously. “And why the hell are you on this little adventure?”
Xander and I had bumped into one another in London on more than one occasion. He was tied deeply to the Twelvers, trying to help them against the encroaching demon hordes. I’d only been around in a mercenary capacity.
Shrugging, I took another swallow from my glass, relishing the whisky, though it did nothing to smother the anger still riding me. I wanted to get Anya alone.
“Genevieve called. A blood vow is bond.”
“Ah. Smart, that Genevieve. You’ll likely be able to find Uriel faster than any of us.”
“That’s the idea.”
Xander’s gaze flicked from me to Anya, who seemed to find anything to look at but either of us.
“I see.” His words carried far more weight than they should’ve, possibly sensing the tension riding between the two of us. “Do you need assistance?”
Anya’s attention snapped to him. Before she could answer in the affirmative, I shook my head.
“The fewer on this mission, the better. We need to be as unnoticeable as possible where we’re going.”
He gave a stiff nod, knocked back his glass, and set it on the marble-top coffee table. “Right. Well. It’s been a long, bloody day. I’m sure you two have other places to be. If you need to rest, I’ve got guest rooms down the hall.”
Neither of us moved or said a word.
Xander grinned. “Just”—he turned and pinned me with a knowing look—“be careful.” He paused, glancing between us. “This new world has us all living each day like tomorrow is our last. And it could be, but…every decision has its consequences.”
He knew.
I started to open my mouth—to say what, I don’t know.
“But you’re grown-ups and can make your own decisions…and mistakes.”
With a wave of his hand, he headed toward what must be the master off the other side of the living room. “Nevertheless, a nice warm bedroom is yours before you head off to the frozen wasteland.”
“Dommiel,” she said in almost a plea.
“The bedroom.”
I walked the length of the living room and ushered her with a hand at her back. She went easily enough, though I was expecting resistance. Down the hall, I urged her into the first bedroom and slammed the door shut.
“Tell me about Simian.”
She faced me, eyes wary. “There’s nothing to tell. I worked with Xander before I went in search of Uriel. And he was leading a horde one day.”
I walked toward her. She backed away.
“Right.” I corralled closer. Her back hit the wall, her wings flattening out, hands at her sides. “What else?”
“I’d expelled one of his high priests back to the underworld. And he just…fixated on me.”
I braced my hands on either side of her head, the only light the haze of moon glow from the constant cloudy night sky. “Oh, I got that loud and clear.” Aligning my body with hers, I gave her my weight, pressing closer. “We’re going to do something about that.”
“What?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“I’m going to mark you.”
Her hands clenched in my leather jacket. “No.”
“No?” Grinding my teeth, I steadied the rising anger. “He could’ve sifted you out in a blink. Taken you anywhere. You would’ve been gone forever into whatever filth-infested hole he brought you to. And I couldn’t have followed.”
“I don’t want—” She squeezed her eyes shut tight.
“You don’t want my essence inside you. I got that.” Sliding my jaw along her cheek, I whispered close to her ear. “I just need to taste your blood. Then I can track you anywhere. I won’t inject my essence into you.”
I nipped her earlobe. She flinched, a soft exhale escaping her lips. I realized I asked her to trust me on multiple levels. It’s true, when I bit her, I could inject my own essence inside her and control her once it had taken root. But with the taste of her blood in my body, I could sniff her out anywhere in this world or in the other one. That’s all I wanted. A way to find her should she be snatched away from me. The idea of Simian sifting to some dark pit of hell with her lashed at me like a poison-tipped whip.
“I can’t let him take you where I can’t find you.” I recognized the grating plea in my voice, sickening me at the same time I couldn’t help myself. Couldn’t stop begging her to give me power to find her if I needed to. To save her.
Her fists clenched in my jacket. “Why not?”
I swept my mouth below her ear, licking a line down her neck. “Because we have unfinished business.” Inhaling the luscious scent of her, I closed my eyes and let a confession slip past my lips in a whisper. “I can’t let you go.”
“Dommiel.” Her voice ached. She was begging as well without saying anything more than my name. Her fists opened and hands slid beneath my jacket, shaping my pectorals and brushing down my abdomen.
Demon fast, I had her wrists pinned above her head with one hand, my metal hand—gentle but firm. She arched her back, pressing her breasts against me, rubbing for friction. My mouth was on hers before I could think. Devouring. Taking. Sucking her sweet tongue into my mouth. I ground my stone-hard cock against the vee of her pants. Her moan vibrated against my lips.
“Fuck, baby.” I gripped her jaw to make her look at me. “I’m going to mark you now. Trust me.”
I waited. Her eyes glassy with desire, she nodded. I bent, licked her pulse near the base of her throat, and slid my canines in slowly. She cried out, but arched into me, pressing her body closer. The pain was turning her on. I was going to lose my goddamn mind, lust hardening every part of my body while my insides felt like they were melting away.
The sweet tang of her blood seeped into my mouth. I sucked softly, letting her own fast-beating heart pump it out of her veins and onto my tongue. Her angelic essence—pure and powerful—melded with my senses, locking on to my own pulse, and saturated through flesh, imprinting on my bones. I couldn’t just taste her. I could feel her inside me. This pale, black-haired maiden had a lock on me as much as I now had a lock on her. Tasting her might’ve been a mistake, because that lone demon who preferred to follow his own path could only see one now. The one that led to her. Always to her.
I pulled away gasping and licked the few drops that dripped down her throat. Her angelic body began healing fast, stopping the blood-flow from spilling more. Panting like a goddamn cornered animal, I held her blue-violet gaze as I unsnapped and unzipped her pants.
“Can’t avoid it anymore, angel.”
I pushed the material down over her hips, dropping my gaze to see her wearing plain white cotton panties. And if that wasn’t the sexiest fucking sight I’d ever seen. My dick twitched, pressing painfully against my own zipper.
“Say no.” I curled three fingers around the thin fabric at her hip. “Or you’re mine.”
She shook her head, a helpless look on her face, her fingers twining around my neck. “I can’t say no.”
If I were good, I would’ve had some sympathy for her, given her time to adjust, or another chance to reconsider. But I wasn’t. I was a black-hearted demon who hadn’t wanted to get inside a woman this bad since…ever.
Ripping the cotton strap, I kicked open one of her legs wider and stroked into her wet slit with a slow glide.
Her head snapped back against the wall, her fingernails sinking into the skin at my nape. I growled against her throat, stroking a finger inside. So slow.
“God. Damn.”
So sweet and tight. Pressing the heel of my palm to her mound, I rubbed and stroked a slow rhythm. Her hips rocked against my hand. I licked a line up her neck and jaw to her mouth, sipping those soft, plump lips. Her eyes remained closed, her mouth open in ecstasy. It was—
“Beautiful.” I stroked in a second finger, coated in her slickness. Her panting cries increased, her hips rocking faster. “Yeah, baby,” I whispered against her lips, “Come for me on my fingers. Let me imagine what it’ll feel like when you fist my cock.”
Her mouth opened wider, a harsh cry keening higher. Molding my mouth over hers, I swallowed every delicious sound, licking my tongue against hers, then sucking it deep when she came, pulsing hard and fast around my fingers.
“Mmm.” I broke the kiss. “Just like that.”
Slits of blue-violet hooked on my face. I pulled slowly out of her and sucked my fingers clean, the smell of her sex on me making me insane. Her eyes shot open wider, her swollen lips still ajar, drawing in deep, jagged breaths.
Without a pause, I reached under her arms to the middle of her back and unsnapped her shirt where it fastened beneath her wings. Pulling it loose in the front, the flaps slid free over her shoulders. I made short work of her bra, unsnapping the low strap beneath her wings—equally as plain and economically made as her panties, much to my liking. Sweeping an arm under her knees—her pants still half off at her thighs—I carried her to the bed, loving the feel of her in my arms, her feathers brushing the backs of my arm. The sensation punched an emotion straight to my solar plexus so hard that I stumbled.
Catching myself with a knee on the mattress, I stared down at the half-naked angel in my arms.
“Are you okay?”
A simple question really. Am I okay? She looked perfectly fine. An exotic flower about to be deflowered, and yet she looked up at me with absolute trust in those heaven-made eyes. It tore me in two and put me back together all at the same time.
Was I okay?
No. I would never be okay again. I knew it. This glorious, sexy, pure-as-puppies-in-winter angel changed me with her trusting gaze, with her divine body. The one she was willingly giving to me right at this very moment. And even if it was only for tonight—brief and mind-blowing—I would take what little I could. We’d part ways once we got Uriel out of that hellhole in Estonia and that would be that.
But now, I’d take what she offered. I’d burn it to memory so I could replay it for the centuries to come. For here, at this single sliver in time, I felt…whole. Connected. Not alone.
Her hand came up, slow and gentle, cupping my jaw. “Dommiel?”
Shaking off the negative warnings rattling around in my head and searing through my gut, I stood from the bed without a word, then stripped off her pants and half-torn underwear. She remained still and watching, at perfect ease, the adrenaline of her orgasm obviously simmering her body to a warm, pliant creature. She was pale and perfect, her small breasts pert, nipples rosy and ready for me.
Unstrapping my weapon harness, I ripped my shirt over my head, kicked off my boots, and shoved off my pants. I crawled up between her legs, splaying my hands on her inner thighs and pushing them open slowly.
Her gaze slid down my body, stopping at my dick, erect and lying flat against my stomach. Her mouth opened in surprise, an unconscious expression of innocence, fixed in sultry beauty.
“It looks”—violet flaring in the dark—“big.”
Easing closer on my knees, I lifted her hand and wrapped her fingers around the middle of my cock. Molding my hand on top of hers, I squeezed and stroked slowly, down then up. Just once. I couldn’t take much more.
She squirmed, sitting up on one forearm to stroke again. I removed my hand, letting her tentative touch and discovery ease her mind, even as it tortured me worse than being flayed open. Then her hand swept up with more confidence, her thumb sweeping over the crown. With a quick inhaled hiss, I gripped her wrist and pulled her away.
I dropped to all fours, shaking my head. “I need to get inside you.”
Eyes wide and dilated, black pupils swallowing the deep blue, she clenched her fists in the white downy comforter. This pure angel and sensual creature lay there and waited for me. My mind stuttered.
“But before that…”
I leaned down, nipping her inner thigh. She flinched. Before she even knew what I was about, I opened my mouth on her glistening slit, groaning at the addictive taste of her honey musk.
“Dommiel.”
One of her hands fisted in my hair. Fucking right. She was an angel—and a vixen.
Flicking her clit with my tongue, I worked her good, letting her rock against my mouth with greedy thrusts. When her cries grew louder and closer together, I stopped and skimmed up her soft belly, chuckling at her soft exhale of frustration.
“Not yet, baby. Not till I’m inside you.”
Giving her my weight between her thighs, she moaned a soft “yes” right before I sucked her perfect pink nipple into my mouth.
Again, she screamed my name. If Xander had any doubt what we were about, he didn’t now. I wouldn’t be satisfied till she woke the dead of London and lifted them from the apocalyptic ashes with cries of my name on her lips.
Sweeping to the left, I teased with my tongue, circling the tight bud. She had both hands in my hair, trying to force my head down harder. I chuckled again. Greedy wench. She wanted more. She wanted it all. And I sure as hell planned on giving it to her. Again. And again.
“You like that?”
I wrapped my lips around the peak and clamped own, sucking with a gentle tug.
A long moan. “Yes. I love that.”
I did it again, just to hear that sweet sound again, before lifting over her, pressing my thick cock into her wet cleft. She flinched and sucked in a breath, her clit sensitive from her orgasm against the wall and from my mouth.
Caging her head with my forearms, I stared down, unable to recall the last time I’d taken a woman in the missionary position. So long ago, I seriously couldn’t remember. Surely, I’d fucked a woman this way before, hadn’t I? It felt so intimate. Unnervingly so. Part of me wanted to flip her over and drive into her from behind. But morbid curiosity, and some other driving force I refused to acknowledge, compelled me to fuck her this way. Like a lover would. Like she deserved. I wanted to see what it would be like to come inside her with my tongue in her mouth, looking into her eyes, with our bodies closer than any two beings could get.
She rocked up, urging me on. With a smile, surely not a disarming one, I commanded, “Wrap your ankles around my back.”
She did.
“This is going to hurt,” I warned her, taking my cock in hand and wetting it good along her slit.
“I know. But I want it anyway.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle darkly. “Strange thing, isn’t it? When we want something so bad even though we know there will be pain.”
“Get inside me, Dommiel.” She lifted her head off the pillow and clamped her teeth on my bottom lip, tugging me down.
That was enough.
Notching my head at her entrance, I reached underneath and gripped her ass, tilting her hips up for an easier glide. Thrusting in till she cried out, this time with pain not pleasure, my spine stiffened. I swept my lips against hers, nipping her.
“It’s okay, Anya. I’m halfway home.” I kissed her again, her mouth so soft and wet and hot. “Look at me, baby.”
Her eyes slid open, a mixture of shock and pleasure.
“Are you with me?” Not sure why that was important. It never had been before.
A stiff nod from my angel.
Angling my hips, I plunged deep. She arched her neck with a sharp cry. The pain wasn’t just her own. That sharp sting of a creature of light and dark clashing in the most intimate way washed through me, stiffening my muscles for a millisecond. But feeling her body in the same grip of pain shook me loose, forcing me to tend to her needs.
I licked and kissed her neck, buried in the sweetest pussy in heaven or hell or earth. For seconds, or maybe minutes, I lost time, drowning in hot oblivion. In cold uncertainty. A fierce terror wrapped in the hottest fucking lust I’d ever felt clawed me deep.
Then her hands slid up my shoulders and cupped my face. “Move inside me, Dommiel,” she commanded, pressing her lips to mine. “Let me feel you.”
Like a goddamn queen, she gave her command. And I obeyed with a satisfying growl.
My weight on my forearms, I surged up and angled deep, pumping hard. She pressed her breasts up on the next thrust, brushing her perfect nipples against my chest.
“Fuck, Anya.”
I pumped harder, faster, and she matched my rhythm, her heels sliding down over my ass to the backs of my thighs and digging in for leverage.
Then there was nothing but sweat and moans and tongues and groans and teeth and the smacking of flesh pounding inside flesh, the slick slide of two creatures fucking like desperate animals. When her cries rolled together, I lifted onto my metal arm and slid my other hand between us, circling her swollen nub with my middle finger.
Her mouth fell open, dazed eyes locked on mine, as she came on a long moan. The sight of her ecstasy shot straight to my dick, making me spill a split second after her. Holding myself deep with a grip on her thigh, I ground in circles, stretching out the sweat-soaked pleasure of being between Anya’s thighs. Of being buried deep in this sweet-souled, sexy-as-fuck angel.
The strangest thought flitted across my mind, a thought I’d never had during or after sex.
I don’t want this to end.
But before I could get caught up in my own disturbing reaction, I noticed a tear slip from the corner of her eye. Then it was all about her. I was good with that. I didn’t want to think about or come to understand the troubling emotions she spawned inside of me.
I swept a sweaty lock of black hair off her cheek. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head and swallowed hard. “Kiss me, Dommiel.”
I did as my queen commanded.