Chapter 17
“I think I feel him,” Honor said. “But his presence is faint, as I am weak.”
It took an agonizing amount of time to make contact, but Dante was correct in his assumptions about her and Michael’s souls. Honor concentrated on Michael and his strong, brilliant soul, and after many failed attempts, worked out how to manipulate her own life force. Dull and frail as it was, she pushed a couple wispy lilac filaments from her core, instructing them to seek out that strange link with Michael. The initial efforts exhausted her, but once Honor gathered a basic understanding of how to control the silken threads, it became second nature, like flexing a muscle she only just discovered.
In truth, once Honor tapped into her soul and pushed a few faint tendrils outward, they pretty much did the rest on their own. With zero direction from Honor, the winding strands made their way to Michael, entering the glowing power of the aether. Honor couldn’t see the aether as it was visible only to the most skilled of practitioners, but somehow she knew her energy used it to travel over long distances. Like water in a stream, the twisting tendrils flowed along what seemed to be a predetermined route, gathering strength by the second. By the time her outstretched soul reached Michael’s vibrant life force, thanks to the aether, Honor’s threads crackled with power and their previous vibrancy returned.
Several times, the shimmering strands failed to penetrate the tough outer shell of Michael’s soul. Honor ignored the stabbing ache growing inside her skull and concentrated harder. Instinctually, she knew it would help to focus on positive memories of Michael, of that day in the Guard’s hall when unknown forces drew out their respective souls to intertwine. Honor recalled how wonderful it felt the moment the threads touched, before she fought the bond and everything went painfully wrong.
Fond memories of her Archangel sent warmth throughout her body. Before long, a sense of safety and well-being encapsulated Honor like a loving embrace. She recalled Michael’s stern but handsome face. Bright blue eyes that shimmered with emotion, even when he tried to mask his true feelings with that stoic façade. Honor remembered the way Michael’s full red lips parted in shock as their forces connected and the incredible strength coiled within the honed muscles of his body. In a dark dungeon, strapped to a stiff plank of wood, Honor floated to another place and time. The damage and pain she suffered dissipated and Honor’s feelings for Michael grew deeper, true emotions replacing her fantasies.
With every beat of her heart, the lilac threads flourished, pulsing stronger and brighter than ever. When the strands wound around Michael’s soul and finally pierced the outer layer, Honor gasped and her eyes rolled back in her head. A ripple of intense pleasure, of complete and utter rightness, rippled down her spine and spread across her skin in a flush of blistering heat. Despite the dingy cell, her aching body, and her tattered dignity, everything inside her heart clicked in place, becoming exactly as it was meant to be.
Her soul belonged to Michael and now in truth, he owned a very part of it.
“Can you tell Michael where we are?” Dante asked.
Honor blinked and struggled to deal with the tingling rush of pleasure that sank deep inside, spreading everywhere, invading every hidden crevice in her body, whilst at the same time focusing on her task. Dante’s weak gurgle did a good job of pulling Honor out of her own head and shoving the pleasure aside.
Saints above.
Dante sounded awful. In truth, Honor feared mayhap the daemon would fade into unconsciousness before rescue arrived, and selfish as it sounded, she needed him. Without Dante’s encouragement, Honor would never have found her way to Michael. Fates, she owed Dante so much, the thought of what he sacrificed for her thus far made her eyes sting.
“I think mayhap I can tell him?” Concentrating hard, Honor reached deep into her soul and grabbed onto her power. For the span of a heartbeat, a blinding sharp pain whited-out Honor’s vision. Gasping, she pulled back a bit and waited for the agony to pass.
Once her pulse calmed and the discomfort subsided, Honor tried again, this time using caution as she searched for the threads that connected her to Michael. It took mere seconds to locate the dazzling lilac strands and follow their length to the Archangel. To her surprise, when Honor reached her final destination—the shining royal blue she recognized as Michael’s soul—a battering ram of hostile emotions, including fierce determination and thoughts of violence blanketed in raw fury, inundated her life force.
Fates be…
Her Michael was angry. Very angry. And… Honor sifted through the swirling storm of Michael’s soul to find… aye, they were. Michael’s thoughts.
“He’s… oh Fates, Dante.” Honor grinned so wide her chapped lips split. “Dante, it’s Michael. He’s coming for us!”
The frenzied rage and panicked worry pulsing from Michael to flow across the tether came to an abrupt halt. She knew the exact moment Michael understood Honor was reaching out to him. Knew she was calling him. Because soothing, reassuring thoughts streamed from Michael to Honor.
Oh, saints above, that male of mine.
He was comforting her. The calming thoughts Michael sent were such a relief that were her throat not so raw and her eyes not as dry as the desert scorched by the summer sun, Honor would have broke down in tears of joy.
From his cell, Dante spoke, but Honor paid no attention to the daemon. Absorbed with reveling in every single one of Michael’s potent emotions, and mercy help whomever tries to stand in her Archangel’s way, Honor’s breath caught. He was furious. Michael didn’t even attempt to hide his anger, which surged white-hot and so explosive, the Archangel’s state of mind bordered on murderous.
Eyes closed, Honor repaid the favor and sent her own comfort and affection through the slender filaments of the tether, assuring Michael she was okay. As she witnessed on previous occasions, for whatever reason, Honor possessed the ability to do what no other could. She calmed the volatile Archangel. Whist still simmering beneath the surface, Michael’s fury subsided enough that he could focus on rescuing Dante and Honor instead of extracting the revenge he so craved.
Michael wasn’t far now. Where exactly, Honor knew not, but from the manner in which Michael’s hope soared, she grew confident he must be somewhere on the grounds of Lust’s estate. For a brief moment, the suppressed rage and bloodlust burst out of Honor’s soothing embrace and overtook Michael’s tumultuous soul, the brunt of it directed at another.
If Honor must needs guess what occurred, she only need assume the King of Lust to be in Michael’s company.
Her concentration broke when a tremendous blast of immortal power rippled across the bond. Shocked by the assault, Honor’s entire body jerked on instinct. A silent cry tore from her chest when the movement caused the cuffs to bite deep into her battered wrists and ankles. At the same time as the wave hit, the ever-present static-hum of the wards around the cell, which by now were so familiar she paid them no mind… vanished.
Blessed Fates. The wards are down.
Honor wanted to scream and shout. Make an unholy racket to direct Michael to the dungeon where Dante and she were held, but refrained. Honor had no knowledge of the situation outside the cells. Creating a commotion could mayhap place Michael in danger by calling guards to his attention. It proved difficult, but Honor pressed her lips tight, afraid any noise would distract her Archangel and thereby put him at a disadvantage against the enemy.
“The wards are down.”
“I felt it,” Honor replied to Dante’s breathy rasp. “Michael is here, in the mansion, but not alone. I know not who else comes except...”
“Tell me,” Dante said, somehow managing to sound fierce despite his thready voice.
“I-I believe your sire to be among them.”
Honor heard Dante’s breath hitch, faint though it was, and her heart cracked once more for the broken-spirited and abused male. Daemon or not, no one should suffer at the hands of someone, especially one who should love them unequivocally, though, if your father is one of the seven deadly sins, love isn’t likely to be found in abundance. But over the weeks, Honor grew close to Dante, and learned much about the male. First and foremost, he was kind, righteous, and worthy of respect. Respect the King of Lust never bothered to behold.
“Michael shall not allow the King to hurt you.” Honor spoke the words, though in truth, she was in no position to make promises on Michael’s behalf. But, if there was one thing Honor knew about her beloved Archangel, it was that, like Dante, Michael was a male of honor. Honor envisioned not a single scenario in which Michael turned on Dante. Not after giving the daemon his solemn vow that Dante would come to no harm.
Before Honor could offer Dante a litany of useless platitudes, a soft breeze tousled her matted hair. A shiver shook her body as concentric ripples of power rolled through the dungeon, one after the other. The steady rhythm of Honor’s heart flailed before adjusting, synchronizing its beat with the pulses of energy. Useless though it was, Honor twisted her neck in an attempt to see outside her cell.
Honor picked up a low growl nearby, which was quickly joined by a second. The rumbling sounds grew in both volume and fury until the hairs on Honor’s arms stood on end. Inhaling a shaky breath, Honor closed her eyes and concentrated on locating Michael.
Fates let him be the one growling, else we are in big trouble.
It took but a second to locate Michael and the discovery caused Honor’s eyes to snap open.
Thank the angels and saints above.
Michael was in the dungeon, close but out of her sight. Dehydrated though she was, Honor’s relief was so great, large, fat tears fell from her eyes and trickled down her temples to disappear in her filthy hair. She choked with emotion and a shaky sob tore from her abraded throat and aching chest.
Michael was here. She was rescued. They were rescued.
The high, piercing noise of metal scraping on metal shook her teeth as the cell door bent and snapped free. A reverberating crash of the door tossed to the stone floor was followed by a pained gasp. Across their bond, a deep, overwhelming sense of grief swamped Honor’s soul and another sob hitched in her lungs. The quiet shuffle of feet preceded Michael’s large hand settling on Honor’s shoulder. Violent shudders Honor hadn’t noticed wracking her body, came to a halt at his touch.
“Fetch me a blanket or quilt!” Michael barked. Less than a minute later, soft fabric covered Honor’s modesty and Michael came into view. Fates… the sight was so beautiful. The huge male stood before her like a vision sent from above. Michael, her Archangel, was a balm to her soul, healing the wounds inflicted over weeks of torture. Even through her weary eyes, Michael looked more stunning than ever, despite the obvious tension in his shoulders and creases lining his forehead.
“You’re here,” she rasped. Michael’s guilt flooded her soul, potent and sharp. Honor closed her eyes as yet another tear trickled down her cheek. Her poor Michael, so tormented by her capture though it was no one’s fault but her own.
“I am, my love. My heart.” Michael stroked Honor’s face and dashed away her tears with broad swipes of his thumbs. She lifted her lids to stare into the depths of Michael’s sapphire eyes. “I am so, so sorry, dulcedo. In truth, believe me when I say I shall never again let you out of my sight. Not for as long as I exist.”
The gravity of the last few days…weeks? came to a crest and the dam she built to stay safely numb, to hold back her emotions whilst suffering in this terrible place, shattered. A tidal wave of raw feelings crashed over her battered mind and body and Honor trembled as the recent spike of adrenaline slowly drained. Thoroughly exhausted, Honor’s bottom lip quivered and more tears threatened to fall. “Prithee, I beg you to free me of these.” Weak though she was, Honor rattled the chains around her wrists.
Michael’s gaze dropped to her raw, blood-caked flesh. His upper lip curled into a sneer and his eyes burned with fury. For a fleeting moment, Honor caught a glimpse of Michael’s thirst for vengeance as it flashed across his face and flowed across their bond. It pained Honor to know Michael suffered every bit as much as she, holding back his desire for revenge by a single silken thread.
“Dion! Open the bloody cuffs,” Michael shouted, the order stated as such it was not to be argued.
Behind her, Honor heard the whisper of clothing along with a few quietly spoken words. The cursed chains opened and clattered to the ground. Faster than she could track, Honor found herself swept off the rigid board that had been her entire existence for longer than she cared to think about, right into Michael’s arms. Finally, Honor found herself in the very place she dreamt of more times than she could count, and by the Fates, her imagination didn’t do reality justice. This, being in Michael’s strong embrace, was far, far better than anything in her wildest dreams.
The chaos around Honor disappeared, the dingy cell, the metallic scent of blood and pungent fear, the voices of others, even the deep-seated ache in her muscles from being rendered immobile for so long. Nothing mattered except the hard chest Honor pressed against and the throbbing pulse under the hot skin of the throat into which she nuzzled her nose. She inhaled deep and her soul flared bright as she reveled in the scent of sandalwood and male. Honor did it again and again, even as her head spun and she grew dizzy from lack of food and water, the act too addictive to stop.
Michael ducked his head and whispered comforting words in her ear as his hold on her tightened. It took great effort to move her weak limbs, but Honor raised her arms to wrap them around Michael’s neck. If this glorious moment were the reward for her suffering, Honor would gladly volunteer to do it all over again without hesitation. So enchanted was she to be in Michael’s embrace, Honor failed to notice the increase in activity swirling around her life force.
“Are you all right?”
The voice came not from Michael, but someone else. Honor loathed losing the comfort she found from burying her face into the crook of Michael’s neck, but not knowing who stood so close made her nervous. Apparently, her recent trauma left Honor untrusting and easily spooked.
“Shhh,” Michael crooned as his large hand smoothed down her hair and back. “You are safe, dulcedo.” The soft words combined with Michael’s firm but gentle touch calmed her soul and Honor shuddered with contentment. Michael sensed her emotions just as she sensed his, because he clearly recognized her fear. “Aye, I feel your emotions as if they are mine own,” Michael said. “I shall explain as soon as we get out of this dreadful place.”
Honor agreed. She wanted to be as far from this nightmare as possible. Preferably still crushed against Michael and surrounded by his hard muscles… and mayhap laying on a softer surface, such as a bed.
A low chuckle broke into her fantasy.
“Save those thoughts,” Michael said as he brushed his lips across the top of Honor’s head. “Soon enough, my love. Soon enough.”
Her resulting blush was hot enough to set her face afire. To distract herself from the humiliation of Michael sensing her illicit thoughts, Honor lifted her head to peek over Michael’s shoulder. She spotted the Master Practitioner and an unknown female. Both were assisting Dante out of his cell.
Honor concentrated on the female, trying to work out what she was. Definitely immortal, and for some reason, she sensed familiarity, but Honor found herself too drained to expend the energy to figure it out. “Who is she?”
Michael sounded amused as he answered. “That is the wraith.” Honor’s confusion must have flowed across the tether, because Michael added, “I’ll explain that later, as well.” Michael turned and strode out of the cell, Honor still curled in the protective cocoon of his arms, her naked body swaddled in the downy blanket.
Honor caught sight of Dante and swallowed. Fates. Just as she thought. Dante truly looked much worse off than she. Even with his enhanced healing, the daemon’s face was almost completely black and blue, the individual bruises melding together to form a gruesome mask. Dante wore the same blood encrusted lash marks across his chest, though his seemed to not have healed as well as Honor’s, as there remained a few raised welts, where her skin was smooth. When her gaze dropped further, Honor buried her burning cheeks into Michael’s chest.
“Fetch Dante a pair of trousers,” Michael snarled. “There is a female present.”
“Two, if you count Jack,” Dante chuckled. He was weak, but if Dante felt well enough to jest, Honor took it as a positive sign.
“Shut up,” the female, Jack, shot back.
After a bit of rustling, Honor assumed Dante had covered up his… manhood. That done, Dante spoke, and he sounded angry. “What is he doing here?”
Michael answered. “I brought him.”
Honor didn’t know about whom Michael spoke, so once more, she raised her head to glance at the small grouping of immortals. Standing in a semi-circle was the young practitioner Dion, the female that was apparently Jack, and the battered Dante. All three stared down, so Honor did the same.
“Mercy!” On instinct, every muscle in Honor’s body froze and her pulse began to race. Her heart hammered and she held onto Michael so hard her fingernails dug into his broad shoulders.
“Why… why would you save him?” Dante asked. Honor ached for the daemon. The pain etched in his expression hurt her very soul. And she had the very same question. Why not banish him with the others?
Dante forgotten, Honor looked down again and this time, her lungs constricted whilst panic flooded her already overtaxed system. Her skin crawled and her mind screamed. She wanted to disappear, for Michael to take her far away from this nightmare. Because sprawled on the filthy stones of the dungeon lay Asmodeus, the King of Lust, legs and arms bound behind him with what appeared to be cursed chains.
A fresh wave of fury traversed the tether into Honor’s soul, and this time Michael tensed around her. “I kept him here for revenge. This piece of shi—” Michael shot a quick glance at Honor and backtracked. “This loathsome creature hurt my Honor, kidnapped her, and had her tortured. I want…” Michael breathed deep through his nose, nostrils flaring. “I wanted to rip him apart with my bare hands.” A growl rose from Michael’s chest, growing in intensity until the vibrations shook Honor.
She sensed the immense amount of willpower it took for Michael to hold back from attacking Asmodeus right then and there. In truth, Michael did want to tear into the daemon and make him suffer in ways that made her stomach lurch. She shuddered at the gruesome imagery projected by her angel.
I might despise Asmodeus, but I have not the constitution to bear witness to torture.
“Why haven’t you done it then?” Dante asked. Honor flicked her gaze from Asmodeus to his son. Instead of the rampant fear she previously witnessed when Dante faced his father, Honor noted his emotions were more akin to Michael’s.
Anger. Rage. Primal fury. A desperate hunger for revenge.
“This is my gift to you, Dante. For protecting my Honor. I give you the King of Lust to do with as you please. You have until midnight. At that time, Dion is instructed to banish your father to the Underworld.”
Dante gaped at Michael, one brow raised. “And the others?”
“Gone,” the wraith answered. “All of the Kings and three of the Horsemen.”
Michael did a double take and Honor felt his steady heartbeat falter. “Wait. What do you mean, three?”
Jack shrugged his dainty shoulders. “Upon my arrival, there were only three Horsemen in the barn. I assumed you did something with the missing one.”
By the time Jack finished explaining, Michael was shaking with fury. Negative emotions quickly rising within her Archangel, Honor cringed at the sheer power of Michael’s rage as it battered her tender soul. Michael attempted to pull it back to keep it from assaulting her, but he failed to completely extinguish his wrath.
“No, I did nothing of the sort,” Michael snapped. He turned to Dion. “How many Horsemen did you banish?”
Clearly, Dion was ill equipped to be at the receiving end of Michael’s ire. The boy’s eyes were so wide the whites surrounded his dark irises. Dion swallowed, nervous under Michael’s furious scrutiny. “Three.”
“Son of a—” Michael glanced at Honor before glaring at the others. “I can’t deal with this right now. I have Honor to think of. I must needs get her home and healed.”
Michael’s anger wasn’t abated, not even close, but his focus had shifted and a new sensation flowed along the soul bond. A sensation that, regardless of the inappropriate setting, sent delicious tingles down Honor’s spine and stirred every cell in her body. She recognized it instantly. Desire.
Michael nodded at Dante. “Do what you must, as long as the King is banished at midnight, I care not what happens. The Guard is meeting on the morrow. I expect to see you there.”
Words ringing final, Michael dematerialized with Honor as his more than willing passenger.
* * *
Michael’s mind was out of sorts until he returned to the comfort of his tiny home, his soulmate in his arms, and—he reached out with his immortal senses—in truth, not another soul for miles. Finally. There would be no reason to prevent him claiming his mate. No one to stop their souls from joining as one. No interruptions, no emergencies, no worries.
In truth, there was quite a bit to worry about, but just once, for the length of a single night, Michael needed to be selfish. For the first time in his existence, Michael must needs put his own desires—and those of his gorgeous mate—above the safety of the people he gave his oath to protect.
The Daemon Kings were banished and there was nothing to be done about the lone Horseman. Everything that required his attention could wait ‘til the morrow.
“Fates, I believed you naught but a dream. All this time, night after night, I envisioned you next to my bed, an apparition of stunning perfection, and here you are. You are real.” Michael traced a finger down Honor’s pale, freckled cheek. She shivered and her eyelids dipped low. The simple innocence of her action caused Michael’s need to press urgently at his trousers. “So beautiful.”
Michael slid his hand around the back of Honor’s head and gently tipped it to the side, his other arm tight around her tiny waist. As Michael lowered his mouth to Honor’s full, pink lips, electricity shot from his life force and tingled at the tips of his fingers. Their mouths touched and he praised the Fates for choosing this female for him and him alone. Honor must have felt the same pleasurable jolt as Michael, because she groaned and her lips parted slightly as the spark shot through them both.
Michael tore his mouth away. Honor’s desperate whimper nearly broke his resolve to care for her first. “Wait. You are exhausted, thirsty, hungry, and in need of a wash.” The way her cheeks flushed and her lashed dipped low made his cock throb.
“I-I am thirsty and…” The pink shade of her blush deepened. “And I shall bathe, but…” Honor lifted her eyes to stare directly into Michael’s, and the need contained within those emerald beauties sent a hot rush of desire to his groin. “I am healed and feel fine. I would prefer to…” Her gaze flicked to Michael’s bed. “I would have you hold me.”
All conscious thought shut down and Michael’s instincts roared to the forefront. They took over, his actions no longer by choice, but dictated by need. A deep-seated, overwhelming, spine tingling need. The hand splayed across Honor’s lower back seemed to move of its own volition, skimming down over the swell of her backside with a mind of its own. His palm and fingers curled to cup a perfect, round buttock and began to gently knead the supple flesh.
“Let me bathe you then.” Honor parted her lips in protest, but Michael silenced them with a gentle finger. “I insist. It is my honor to care for you, dulcedo.”
Michael set Honor down on one of the small chairs at the table and first handed her a cup and filled it with watered down ale from a jug, pleased when Honor drank it down. Next, he ladled water from the barrel to a washbowl. Michael gathered a clean cloth, a fresh towel, and a bar of soap. Kneeling at her feet, Michael wet the cloth and rubbed it against the soap until it lathered. Carefully, lovingly, he ran the soapy cloth over her body, starting with her feet. Once satisfied each part was clean, Michael rinsed her silky skin and dried it with the towel.
When all of Honor was clean except her breasts and her sex, over which she clutched the blanket, Michael stood. “Here.” He placed the cloth in her hand and laid a robe over the chair. “I shall step outside whilst you finish. Let me know when you are done.” He couldn’t help what he did next. Before leaving, Michael cupped Honor’s face, leaned over, and pressed his lips to hers. It took all of Michael’s concentration to leave the kiss at that, and ignoring the throbbing at his groin, he walked out to give Honor a private moment.
“Fates above,” he muttered as he paced in front of his door. Michael reached down and adjusted his erect cock. He’d never in his existence been this hard. Honor’s soul literally called to him. Spoke to him in a way he couldn’t resist. Her body a siren’s song that lit his own aflame.
“I am finished.”
The soft-spoken words made Michael’s heart trip. This was it. Honor desired him. He desired her. He wanted to storm into his home and sweep her into his arms. Plunder that hot, wet mouth and thrust between her thighs into her tight heat. But what of Honor? Surely she was chaste. A virgin. What if she—?
He entered the single room structure, his mind in knots as to how to proceed. As Michael pondered how his inexperienced mate would react to his sexual advances, Honor’s response whilst he walked toward her set his mind at ease. He couldn’t miss the way her eyes shone, reflecting the brilliant lilac of her soul. In truth, he felt the full extent of her aching emptiness, her desire to be filled by Michael, as it hit him across the bond. No longer worried, he tugged Honor into his embrace, loving how she looked wearing his robe. For a brief moment, she stiffened in his arms, then, as if something inside her clicked into place, she went limp and pliant, shifting to flatten her front against Michael’s. A soft moan rose from Honor’s throat and Michael eagerly devoured the erotic sounds by taking her mouth harder, plunging his tongue inside her hot depths, desperate to consume every bit of cinnamon sweetness whilst enjoying the way Honor squirmed and panted from the kiss.
“Please.” The desperate entreaty sent a bolt of lust directly to Michael’s groin. Hungry for more, he dropped his other arm so he clutched both of Honor’s buttocks. With her perfect, round backside filling his hands, Michael tugged her closer and lifted until their groins aligned. Letting out a needy growl of his own, Michael ground his thick erection along the cleft at the soft juncture of Honor’s thighs, pleased when his mate cried out in return and a thick wave of desire pulsed across the bond.
Honor whined when Michael pulled back and he dodged her efforts to chase his mouth with her red and swollen lips. “Fear not, dulcedo,” he murmured when he met lust blown pupils in Honor’s frantic stare. “I shall give you what you need.”
Her cheeks flushed and she dropped her gaze. “I don’t… I’ve never…”
Ah, as I thought.
It was a near impossible feat, but Michael released Honor’s luscious buttocks and hugged her in a tight embrace. “I am aware of your lack of experience, dulcedo. I shall treat you with every bit of care and respect you deserve. I could never hurt you. You are my soulmate.”
Because Honor’s face pressed into his throat, her words were mumbled, but Michael heard them clearly. “But it’s not your first… I mean, you’ve done this before.”
The hurt in her voice and accompanying pain that traveled through their union rent a hole in Michael’s heart. Mercy, hurting his dulcedo was worse than being run through with a sword. He released Honor and cupped her face with both hands so she would see that when Michael spoke, it was truth.
“Aye, I have lain with females before. Some angels, but mostly humans.” The moisture shimmering in Honor’s eyes caused Michael to hesitate, but his past was his past and nothing could be done to change it. They must needs get his history out of the way so they could move forward. Together. “My last lover was human, and she died over four hundred years ago. I have taken none to my bed since.”
“Did… did you love her?”
Michael was proud of his mate for having the confidence to ask questions, but the way she held her breath awaiting his answer saddened him.
“Not really, dulcedo. I loved her as in I cared what happened to her, and mourned her death, but it was more in the manner in which I love my Guard and the humans I protect. A general sense of caring. With you,” Michael’s heart filled to bursting and his life force crackled and strained at its boundaries. “With you it is more. So much more. You are the piece I have been missing. The slice of my soul I didn’t know I needed until I found you. You are my forever, Honor Ward. My eternity. And I shall never leave your side or stop loving you.”
A single tear made its way down Honor’s cheek. Needing to taste his mate, Michael leaned down and captured the salty drop with his lips. Even her tears tasted of sweet cinnamon behind the hint of salt. Mother of all Fates, he needed to sink into her and soon, else he might combust.
“Do you trust me, dulcedo?”
Honor met his gaze, light brown eyes steady and clear. Her chin lifted slightly, and her courage filled Michael with joy. Honor was a female of worth. Mayhap she seemed at times timid and naïve, his dulcedo was intelligent, thoughtful, and brave. Everything he could ever want in a mate.
“I don’t simply trust you, Michael. I love you. I have since the first day I Watched you.”
Gentle warmth churned low in Michael’s abdomen, spreading quickly to encompass his entire lower half. As he stared into his beloved’s eyes, Honor’s declaration of love wrapped around him like a downy quilt. The heat inside his body grew until Michael’s stiff length was all but tearing its way out of his trousers. His heavy balls were high, the skin tight, and molten need pumped through his veins like the flow red-hot of lava from a volcano.
“I love you and I always will,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “Of that, I am certain. I give you my eternal vow.”
As he watched, Honor’s pupils expanded and her lips parted. A flash of pink and her tongue swept over her full lips, leaving a sheen of moisture behind. Niceties were over. Talking, done. It was time to claim his soulmate, the female who was created just for him, perfect in every way. Michael’s hands, still cupping her face, slid back to sink into Honor’s thick, auburn waves and his fingers tightened around the strands. Unable to hold back any longer, Michael took her mouth, and this time, the kiss was rough, desperate, and determined to wring every last bit of pleasure out of his soulmate until she was hoarse from screaming his name.
He tore his mouth away and swept Honor into his arms, then carried her the few steps to his bed and laid her down in the center. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, Michael began to undress.