Sleep didn’t come easily or quickly. Hell, I’d snatched up that page so fast and carried it back downstairs before I even realized what I’d done. Maternal instincts kicked in and I grabbed the page by the corner, flying down the steps to put distance between my kid and the magicked construction paper. The yellow sheet taunted me, practically screaming that bad shit was on the horizon.

I sat on the couch and simply stared at it, this thing my son had somehow created. That weird, twitchy feeling that’d dogged—heh, I’m a werewolf—my heels when the drug shit went down was back and scraping at my spine. Momma R—Jezebeth’s mother and my surrogate mom—would tell me it was me feeling helpless.

Caith Morningstar of the Hell-born Morningstars didn’t do helpless.

And I wasn’t saying that was what coursed through my veins, but… it was. That same unease that plagued me whenever weird shit happened in the Orlando area was rearing its ugly head. I mean, I’m pretty kickass—Satan’s niece, right? —but I was only good for the ass kicking part. The whole Scooby Doo Mystery Machine stuff was Jezze’s domain.

The minutes ticked past, one hour sliding into another, and that stupid writing still glowed. But thankfully it didn’t do anything else.

FYI, staring at a piece of paper is more boring than watching grass grow. I would know. I’ve done both in my life.

I left the yellow drawing in place and leaned back on the couch, flicking on the TV. I hoped I could find something boring enough to put me to sleep. I sat there for a while, soda in the can this time instead of beer. I didn’t want any kind of alcohol in my system while those nightlight symbols were around.

I kept flicking, finally stopping when I stumbled across an old episode of Bewitched. I loved the show simply because Jezze hated it with a passion unrivaled. It, apparently, “perpetuated inaccurate stereotypes that lead to the persecution of…”

Admittedly, I’d tuned her out at that point. Though I would remember to bring the show up when she was having issues in the witchy department. Samantha would just twitch her nose and BOOM, shit was handled.

Jezze tried to turn me into a toad.

I tried to burn her to a crisp.

Momma R put us both in grown-up time out.

After that, it had become a game. I’d make a witch joke and then she’d drag me to every werewolf movie ever released. Literally. We were both older than the invention of cinema, and we’d watched the first ever showing of The Werewolf in 1913.

After Bewitched, I flipped to the late night news, ready to pass out to the sound of the lead anchor’s blander-than-bland voice. He was pretty to look at though.

My wolf growled and reminded me we had something—someone—pretty to look at and he was our mate. We didn’t need some stupid news anchor.

I was ready to launch into a silent yet emotionally charged argument with my inner beast when a video clip on the screen snared my attention. It wasn’t the police lights flashing in the background behind the correspondent or the rush of emergency workers briskly walking back and forth.

No, it was the reporter’s words along with stretcher after loaded stretcher that whipped past. I stabbed at the remote, forcing the volume to go higher so I could hear the correspondent more clearly.

“Police have not yet determined what caused these thirty wealthy tourists to lose consciousness at Assets this evening. Reports indicate the thirty gentlemen arrived in good spirits and were most assuredly awake when they entered the gentlemen’s club.”

I snorted. “Gentlemen’s club.” Right. Assets was a strip joint. Maybe a little classier than others, but still a strip club. My biggest concern was the fact that so many ended up coming out of the place on stretchers.

I made a mental note to talk to Jezze about it just in case it turned out to be something I needed to handle. Orlando was my town. My rules. I owned every tweener inch of the city and if some dem, gel, or tweener decided it was time to play with the little humans… I’d be there to explain—in painful detail—why that wouldn’t be a good idea. I got a little excited, blood thrumming at the thought of explaining things.

I took a deep breath and pushed back my bloodthirsty urges. Nine times out of ten, when weird crap happened in Orlando, it wasn’t caused by nonhumans. It was just weird.

And boring.

But not boring enough to lull me to sleep, apparently.

When I finally admitted that sleep wasn’t coming, I picked up the phone and called Sam.

Sam. Samkiel. Half-fallen angel, On High’s ex-angel of destruction and purifier of souls. My… Shit, for all his confusing, heart rending, and soul crushing problems, he was my mate.

-ish.

We still had our ongoing problems there. We’d mated and then we hadn’t. Then he was a full fallen angel because he killed someone for me and my uncle stole his feather. Then he got some of his angelic mojo back when the whole demon drug thing went down.

Through it all, he was just… Sam. I hated him. I loved him. I… couldn’t live without him.

But he was still dangerous, his grasp on good and the line he walked between purity and evil still thin and tenuous. It was why he had his house and I had mine. We had mostly separate lives even though my wolf wanted to cling to him and never let go.

It’d decided having an evil fallen angel mate was just fine with it.

Even though it was well past midnight, he answered on the first ring, sounding awake and… pleased? To hear from me. I didn’t even have to ask him to come over. Three words left my mouth and then he cut me off.

“I can’t sleep— “

“I’m on my way.”

That was it.

Less than ten minutes later, he was at my door. I wasn’t sure if I’d just sensed his closeness or heard him softly knock, but my body reacted to his nearness. My wolf sat up straight, tail wagging, while I heated from inside out. It was as if the depths of Hell rose through me, stretching and scraping my flesh as it filled me with sensual warmth. I craved him. That was it. I flat out craved my mate.

I climbed from the couch, stretching my arms above my head while I let out a long yawn. I was tired. I just couldn’t sleep.

I padded to the front door and brushed the runes etched into the frame with my fingertips. The wards recognized me, sizzling against my skin with a stinging caress. I said they recognized me, not that they liked me.

I opened the door. The spells relaxed so I could let my mate in, and then he was there, filling my entryway. His massive body crowded me in the large space, his scent teasing me—sulfur, sweetness, and an edge of violence that touched the darkest parts of me.

We were alike but different.

I moved until my back hit the wall and he didn’t stop until less than an inch separated us. He swayed toward me and I did the same, our bodies seemingly drawn together by some invisible force.

“Hey,” I rasped, desire making my voice rough and low.

Sam just smirked, that pain-in-the-ass gel knowing how he affected me.

“Hey,” he murmured in return and lifted his hands, showing me he’d brought me a couple of surprises.

I eyed them both, a bottle of wine and chocolate-covered strawberries, and then quirked an eyebrow at him. “Well, either I’ve got the most considerate ma—” I cleared my throat, pulling back from the mate label. “Most considerate man, or you’re doing a pre-emptive strike because you know you’re about to piss me off.”

He leered and handed me the gifts, filling my hands and leaving his free.

Free to cup my cheeks. Free to hold me steady while he lowered his head. Free to put pressure on my chin and encourage me to part my lips for him.

And I let him. I let him position me just so and then, when he pressed his mouth to mine, I sank into the kiss. His tongue teased the seam of my mouth, flicking and tormenting my lips. He nibbled and bit, alternating between pleasure-inducing caresses and near-orgasmic shards of pain. They twined and twirled while he made love to my mouth, his tongue sliding over mine. I returned his every caress, exploring every part of him while still remaining submissive in his hold.

Two hands, hardly a touch, and he had me in his control.

He’d stared me down all those months ago—me on the edge of going feral and literally ripping demons apart with fangs and claws. He’d stared me down and hadn’t flinched, hadn’t pulled away, or shied from the violence that sang in my blood.

Sam had accepted me and that… scared the fuck out of me.

He explored my mouth again, our passion rising with each flick and lick, and I gathered more of his flavors. Smoky heat with a hint of sulfur and sprinkle of stinging goodness.

Perfection.

I leaned into him, needing the connection of our bodies and needing to feel his firm muscles flush with my curves. But the moment I shifted in place, weight transitioning to my toes instead of my heels, Sam ended our kiss. His movements slowed, tongue retreating and then he gave me a gentle brush of his mouth over mine. The moment our lips parted, he stepped back, putting a bit of space between us. I would have been hurt by his abrupt withdrawal, but his breathing came in heaving pants, his eyes swirled with a mixture of demonic red and angelic blue, and his body was strung tightly like a bow.

He wanted me. He couldn’t have me, but he wanted me, which was enough for me. I let him escape, following him when he kicked off his boots and then padded to the cushioned couch.

I moved in his wake, flopping down beside him on the soft furniture, ready to snuggle in and just breathe the scent of my mate while we munched and drank.

But he had other plans. When I tugged on the ribbon holding the box shut, he pulled it from my hands.

I raised a single brow in question and he just gave me a playful smile. “Sit back and relax.”

With my mate this close? I didn’t think relaxing was gonna happen.

But I leaned back, curious and anxious to see where all this was headed. His agile fingers removed the ribbon and slid the top off the box to reveal a layer of delicate chocolate-covered strawberries. The sweetest fruit covered in On High’s greatest gift to women everywhere.

He lifted one from its bed of soft cushioning and held it up to my mouth. A delicate sheen of moisture clung to the chocolate and a soft caress of coldness teased my lips. I furrowed my brow and tilted my head, staring at him, trying to figure out the puzzle the situation presented. We didn’t do… this. Passion, craving, and desperate need. That, we did. Hot times and hard fucking with life-threatening situations thrown into the mix to keep things spicy.

Romance and sweetness? Not so much. But I loved chocolate, strawberries, and… and Sam.

So I opened my mouth for him. He traced my lower lip with the tip of the cooled fruit, and the delicious scents of sweetness and Sam filled my nose. I drew them in, savoring the flavors and adding them to my mental safe I’d labeled “memories of Sam.”

Memories I’d cling to when… when he was back in On High’s good graces and returned to the fold. When he’d never return to me.

I shoved those thoughts away. I’d enjoy my time with him. I’d revel in every touch and pretend he’d always be with me. Always.

Satan’s niece was a good liar, right?

I lapped at the end, snatching a hint of chocolate, and my eyes fluttered closed with that first teasing taste. I leaned forward and took a slow bite, moaning when the flavors exploded across my taste buds. The chocolate melted with the heat of my mouth and the natural sweetness of the fruit teased the part of me I got from Papa Eron—Father Earth. The portion of my soul that loved all things that came from the natural world.

Like strawberries. Like chocolate. Like passion.

There was nothing more natural than sex.

Sex I wanted with my mate. My inner wolf howled with approval, wanted to reconnect with our mate. It hated the distance between us and I had to admit that I did, too. But, for now, this weird situation was the best we could do.

I took another morsel, sinking my teeth into the soft flesh of the fruit. This bite was sweeter than the last, and I whimpered in appreciation. My wolf was a meat eater, but it could appreciate a gift from our mate.

I nibbled down until only the stem remained and I licked my lower lip, gathering any remaining snippet of chocolate.

“Good?” Sam murmured and I stared into his eyes, seeing the swirl of red and blue along with the rising tide of desire. Darkness and light were tinged with physical craving.

“Delicious,” I whispered back. I craved both parts of him, the good and the bad.

The right side of his mouth quirked up in a small smirk. “Don’t move.”

He disappeared then. Not literally poof, but he left me in the living room and I tilted my head, my wolf’s hearing letting me track him through the massive house. He padded through the entryway into the dining room and on into the kitchen. The tinkle of glass reached me and I realized he’d grabbed wine glasses for us.

He quickly returned and poured the wine, setting the glasses on the end table to his right. Then I found myself lifted onto his lap, my back pressed against his chest. He moved me so easily, without a hint of reservation or concern.

I was Caith Morningstar. Deadly. Dangerous. I’d caused wars and scorched city blocks.

To him, I was just Caith.

He handed me a glass of wine and I sipped the sweet liquid, a perfect accompaniment to the fruit and chocolate. Sam fed me, each nibble more delicious than the last, and I reveled in his attentions. I had the focus of my lover—my mate—and I planned on enjoying every moment. I could be the sweet, soft, loving Caith with him, and that was the greatest gift I’d ever received.

Well, one of the greatest. I wiggled my hips, deliberately grinding my ass against him. He froze in place, his breath coming out in a quick whoosh, and I grinned. I repeated the motion, a hard, slow circling of my ass, rubbing his groin in a sensuous roll. It didn’t take long before I got the reaction I desired, the hardening of Sam’s cock beneath his leather pants. The thick hide separated us but still allowed a delicious friction.

My pussy heated, body preparing for him once more. The ache he’d stoked in the entryway flared back to life, turning into a smoldering fire. So much need. So much want.

I set my wine aside and turned around to straddle Sam’s lap, my center nestled against his firm length. I shuddered, remembering the feel of his shaft sliding in and out of my pussy, the utter, overwhelming dominance that a half-fallen angel could exude. It made my wolf whimper and whine, begging me to submit to him again.

And again.

And again.

Forever.

He put his drink and the box of strawberries aside and then gripped my hips, fingers squeezing my flesh, the firm hold reminding me of his strength. “I thought you asked me over to help you relax.” His grasp shifted, palms cupping my ass and kneading the plump mounds. “So you could get some sleep.”

He traced the valley between my cheeks, blunt fingers teasing me. He hadn’t taken me there—not yet—but that ghosting touch made me want.

“Maybe,” I moaned, rocking back and forth. “Maybe what I need is you to tire me out.”

Maybe what I need is to just feel you. To know that any shit can be handled as long as you’re here.

Yeah, mushy Caith was creeping forward and I pushed that part of me back. I wanted to fuck. Not get sweet and weepy.

I leaned forward and kissed him, capturing his mouth with my own and tasting the sweetness on his lips. It was a mix of sweet and smoky, a hint of sulfur and a stinging spark of freshness. He pulled me tighter against his cock, moaning into my mouth while he rolled his hips beneath me. We moved together, both taking snippets of pleasure from our rising passion. My clit twitched and growing joy thrummed in my veins. My body was ready for him, singing with the need to be filled and stretched.

I reached between us and slid my hand over the bulge in his pants, fighting not to feel guilty for what was about to happen. I didn’t feel guilty about sex itself. I’d been alive for over six hundred years and there was nothing wrong with sowing wild oats and all that. I wasn’t a slut, but… six hundred years? That’s a long time. A girl who couldn’t catch STDs and would never have a natural pup without some magical intervention eventually lost count of the number of lovers.

No, it wasn’t the sex. It was how one-sided it would be.

Sam had already lost paradise, banished from On High because he’d helped me—he’d killed for me. He’d earned some brownie points by helping cleanse souls during the height of the demon drug situation. Now he was just within reach of half-fallen status. Close enough that I sort of “rounded up” even if On High didn’t.

No, if he ever wanted to return to the land of monochrome wardrobes and diamond raindrops in On High, he had to steer clear of breaking the big rules.

We technically couldn’t make love, but if he didn’t reach the finish line… well, then he was just a living, breathing sex toy and he stayed on On High’s good side.

Which meant Sam was eternally stuck with the worst case of blue balls. Ever.

I shoved aside my guilt as I unzipped his pants, fingers finding soft—yet hard—flesh throbbing beneath my fingertips. He moaned with my touch, pushing against my hand, and I stroked him as much as I could.

“Off,” I growled against his lips. Needing the pants gone. Needing to feel nothing but bare skin.

On High gave gels their own brand of powers, and Uncle Luc did the same with his fallen. Since Sam was sitting in limbo, he had a bit of both. Enough to shift his pants down his thighs so I could pull his dick free. Enough to make my thin panties vanish with a single tug until it was skin on skin.

I lifted my hips, his cock rising without the pressure of my body. Then I slowly, carefully, lowered myself. I gasped and tipped my head back with my eyes closed as he gradually filled me. I took in more and more of him, the head of his shaft stroking my inner walls in an intimate caress. His veined length teased my dormant nerves, sparking them to life with our connection.

I buried my face against his neck to stifle my moans, not wanting to draw attention or wake anyone in the house. This was our moment, our slice of time, and I wanted it without any interruptions. I groaned and growled while I rode his dick, sliding up and down his thick length.

I started slowly, pussy stretched nearly to the point of pain, and I wanted to extend that burn a little longer. I loved the way it added to my pleasure, the way hurt increased the bliss. He dug his fingers into my ass, clenching them, short nails digging into my skin. Fuck, that was good.

I clutched his shoulders, using him for leverage, using him for pleasure, using him to sate my wolf, and using him to… find a little peace.

Sam forced me into a more furious pace, the rhythm of our fucking mirroring the rapid speed of our harsh panting. Fuck. I clenched around him, milking his dick, body seeming to beg for his cum. I wanted that but couldn’t have it, so I tried to stop the trembles without suppressing my pleasure. I needed to come, but I didn’t want to push him too hard—too far.

He wasn’t having it. No, my mate lifted one hand from my ass, yanking a whine from my throat at the loss. But the whimper quickly turned into a wolfen growl. He brought his palm down, flat of his hand connecting with my ass. The sudden sting heightened my ecstasy, pushing me closer to the edge of release. The wolf in me wanted a hint of pain and a dose of dominance. Assurance. Demand.

The bubble of joy swelled inside me, its dark tendrils slinking along my veins and stretching to fill my whole body. My nipples were hard as rocks, brushing my mate’s chest with every rise and fall along his length and teasing me with the rapid strokes.

He did it again, a stinging smack that jolted through me, and I jerked with the rush of pain, trembling with the bliss that followed. Once more and pressing my mouth to his skin wasn’t enough to keep me quiet. I sank my teeth into his shoulder, droplets of his blood sliding into my mouth and taunting my taste buds. He tensed with the bite, trembling beneath me, and I knew he was close—teetering on the edge between momentary heaven before he was banished to Hell.

I couldn’t let that happen even though I craved it more than life.

I slipped a hand between us, fingers finding my swollen clit with ease, and I rubbed that small bundle of nerves. I stroked that nub, bringing myself closer to the edge of release, teetering on the precipice. The pleasure slipped through me, dancing from pleasure to pain and back again as if my nerves couldn’t decide whether they loved or hated riding my mate.

Sam decided for me. He took control and lifted his hand once more, bringing it down hard on my ass. That wave of agony did it. I exploded in climax, convulsing into a chain of spasms while the molten sensation of total release flowed inside me. My pussy rippled in rhythmic convulsions while wave after sensual wave rolled over my body. I clung to Sam for dear life, groaning and moaning against his shoulder, sinking my teeth in deeper so more of his blood filled my mouth. He held me steady for a moment, giving me a few deep, hard, quick thrusts that wrenched a scream from my throat. It punctuated the last explosive jolts of unadulterated bliss that attacked and then…

Then he held still. Very still.

I pushed back the guilt that attempted to rise, choosing to stay in the moment instead. I carefully withdrew my teeth, lapping at the wound I’d left behind. I licked and kissed the mark until blood no longer seeped from the pierced flesh. His cock throbbed with my every touch while small trembles racked his body.

I gave the wound one last kiss, hating that it’d be gone by morning, and leaned back to look into his eyes. There was desire. Frustration. The need to keep going and do what his body yearned for.

To come inside me—claim me fully and completely. It was what my wolf needed to solidify his place in my life—his scent all over me, inside and out.

But that line in the ethereal sand, once crossed, could never be undone.

With regret, I slipped off his lap, swallowing my whine when he no longer filled me. Complaining wouldn’t do any good and only served to remind us of what we couldn’t have. Instead, I gave him time to deal with his clothing and then pulled him down onto the couch. He lay beside me, his cock still firm against me and his muscular arms holding me nestled against his chest. I reached up and snared the afghan draped across the back of the couch to cover us, and then I closed my eyes. My wolf was content, practically purring with our mate so close and I… was content.

Content and relaxed in the arms of the man I loved.