The Lust still surged through Oriel’s body.
Lust and Wrath and a crippling wave of Envy. The Lust was for Lizza, of course, and the Wrath directed at himself, but the Envy… that was what pushed him over the top. The extreme pain of tasting the sweetness of Lizza only to know he could never have her—not as any mortal man could. His angel power was his curse. And while he managed that one final act in the light—giving her a blessing to heal the darkness in her soul—he’d lost control almost immediately.
Just as he knew he would.
Thank the heavens Tajael had released him from the wards.
But in his haste to get out, he’d only left the building. And hovering over a rooftop guarded by a legion of angelings of the light… he was instantly surrounded.
Their blades were out, at the ready, but they floated around him, not yet striking. Two dozen at least… but these were his friends. Angelings he knew and fought beside. That alone had bought him a moment’s reprieve in the darkness of the night and the silvery moon.
His own blade pulsed at his side, reacting to the nearness of his shadow magic. His obsidian black wings beat the air, but his blade still glowed white. He drew it, and the angelings tensed, but he just dropped it to the rooftop below. It was poison to him now, just as everything in the light.
He stared at them, and they stared back. They should attack. They should destroy him before he could be pressed into service for one of the dark angels. He wanted them to slay him, now, before his defilement went any further… but he was their friend. They didn’t want his blood on their blades, and in Truth, he shouldn’t ask such a thing.
He had nowhere to go. Nowhere to turn. But he should leave before he forced them to make a horrible choice. Just as he twisted to open an interdimensional door to anywhere, a wall of dark feathers surrounded him. A legion of shadow angelings had popped into existence, shielding him from the angelings of light. They were clad in black leather, blades bristling. The angelings of light—his brothers and sisters—let loose a Warrior’s cry and surged toward them. But the shadowkind didn’t stay long enough to be reached.
A dozen hands on his arms and legs and fisted in his hair grabbed hold of him—and yanked him out of that reality and into another.
The hands left him quickly, all but the one in his hair, and that pulled him back against a leather-clad chest behind him. His wings were between them, black and twitching, but that didn’t stop the angeling from breathing in his ear. “Got you just in time, sweet thing.”
What? The shock of a soft feminine voice when he expected a blade in the back riveted him.
“Who are you?” he gasped, trying to twist to see her, but she still had him by the hair.
“Name’s Terah.” He heard rather than saw her lick her lips. “And you owe me, angel boy.”
A pulse of terror clenched his heart. “I don’t—”
But then she shoved him away—not just releasing the hold on his hair, but shoving him with a foot to the back. He tumbled from where they’d been floating down to a platform of black glass. Once he stopped skidding, he squinted behind him—his rescuer was grappling with another shadow angeling. Her cry was fierce as she slashed at him with her blade. The other angeling took a glancing blow then slashed upward with his own blade. They tumbled through the air, and as they fought, glimpses of the surrounding cavern filtered through his shock. Black glass glistened and stretched far above and below the platform he crouched upon. A tower grew below the smooth top, disappearing into the depths. The angelings who had snatched him were all hovering above the platform, a few eyeing him with obvious Lust or Greed or some avarice he couldn’t identify, but most were watching the fight.
Terah cried out again—an angelsong blast that ripped the air with both anger and pain. Oriel surged to his feet. He didn’t know what was happening—not in the slightest—but she had saved him. He had no doubts she had her own reasons—angelings in shadow did not perform acts of Charity—but his impulse to help her was almost overwhelming.
His wings may be black, his body may be riven still with the mania of his Fall, but he’d been an angeling of the light all his life—to not help someone under attack was almost impossible. But he wavered as she fought back. If he came to her aid, he might save her… or he might simply get them both killed. He knew nothing about the dynamics of the situation. In Truth, he knew nothing of what was happening at all.
Terah flipped through the air, pivoting over the head of her attacker, and when he swung around, he was exposed—her blade ran true, deep in his chest. She yanked her blade out, and the angeling tumbled down into the darkness.
Oriel watched him fall, heels over wing, and wondered if his end would be that easy. And, from the tales of horror he’d heard, relatively painless.
Not that pain frightened him. But the Penance rooms served a purpose.
All of this was nothing but Sin.
As was his life, now.
Terah threw her hands in the air and let loose an angel cry. This one sang of victory.
“Any other takers?” she challenged. “I’m already bloodied,” she taunted them. “Try your luck.”
But none seemed eager to take up the challenge, whatever it was. One by one, they winked away, disappearing from sight. In the far distance of the enormous cavern stood a massive black-crystal palace, and several of the angelings seemed to reappear there. Dozens more circulated throughout the cavern, their black wings whispering in the air and against the walls where they clung. A shadow Regiment. He knew where he was, but the speed of his Fall still left him breathless.
He had no inkling of what to do now. Survive? Or find a way to perish, so as not to become a soldier of evil? Provoke a fight so some shadow angeling would finish him and put an end to it? Either way, he was trapped in a tight box of Sin.
Terah swooped through the air and landed with surprising grace on the platform beside him. Her blade was sheathed, so he supposed she didn’t plan to kill him. Not immediately, anyway.
She smirked and sauntered toward him. “That was easier than expected.”
He leaned back at her approach. “You just killed a man.”
She stopped in front of him, dark eyes alight. “Aww… you light angelings are so adorably innocent.”
He scowled. “I’m not an angeling of the light.”
“Well, sure, now.” She ran a look across the length of his body. Just like his blade had still been white, so was his toga. She fluttered her fingers at him, and the white turned to black. She was still clad in leather, mostly, but the short skirt of a toga hung from her hips, not coming close to reaching the tall black boots covering her legs. “That’s better. Come with me, angel boy.”
Before he could ask where, she’d laid a hand on his arm and wrenched him through space again. This time they landed in a cell… at least what he took to be a cell, if the walls had been made of white crystal and not black. But instead of a spartan pad for contemplation and occasional rest, there was a thick mattress covered in blood-red sheets. They reflected glints of the dark light of the walls.
“What is this place?” he asked.
She spread her arms wide, standing in front of the bed and close to him. The room was not large. “Welcome to Elyon’s Regiment!” she proclaimed with a smile.
Elyon. Holy angels of light… a chill swept through his body.
She dropped her hands and pouted. “Oh, it’s not that bad, angel boy.”
But it was. Elyon nearly destroyed the dragons and their treaty to protect humanity. He was in allegiance with the Winter Court of the fae. He loathed all angels of light and humanity. A Fallen angeling—one who worked specifically with Markos, his avowed enemy—in his Regiment?
Oriel would be served up as dinner.
Terah sauntered up to him. “I’m not saying it’s great to be a Fallen light angeling here…” She dropped her gaze to his chest, then lower. He felt the heat of it all over his skin. “Why do you think I went to such trouble to save you, angel boy?” Her gaze had worked its way back up to meet his. She smirked. “I fought for you, sweet thing. I have soft spot for you fresh ones. Newly turned. Still innocent. Still needing an introduction to the ways of shadowkind.” She ran a finger along his skin, starting at his shoulder and trailing it across his collarbones and up his neck to his chin. “It’s a weakness of mine,” she breathed.
She was beautiful, as all angelings are. The turn to shadow doesn’t steal their God-given beauty, merely makes it dark. Her skin was pale, her pink lips full, her dark eyes glittering with humor. But her soul was dark.
He realized with a jolt that his must appear the same.
“I know it’s a shock,” Terah said softly. She slipped her hand down to his, bringing it up between them. She held it in both hands, dropping a light kiss on his fingertips. Then she smiled. “What’s your name, hot stuff?”
“Oriel,” he said automatically, then frowned. He did not understand the right move here.
“Tell me the tale of your Fall, Oriel,” she said with a smirk. “Indulge me a little in my weakness. And I’ll teach you all you need to know to survive.”
“Perhaps I don’t want to survive.” The words were out before he could stop them.
She gave a playful scowl. “Sweet thing, you have no idea the luck you’re having here.” She grasped his hands and tugged him backward with her, toward the bed. “You’ve Fallen directly into a Magis’s bed.”
“What’s a Magis?” He frowned. Did she intend for him to simply climb into the bed with her?
“I’m one of Elyon’s trusted right hands,” she said with a smirk, pulling aside her leather top to reveal an elaborate ink-black tattoo. “What I want, he gives me. In exchange for my utter and complete and lethal loyalty, of course.”
His frown grew deeper, but his mind caught hold of an idea. She was trusted by Elyon. Which meant, she might have his ear. And if Oriel allied with her, he might gain some measure of that trust, by association. This was a thing of value—not for his own survival, although surely it would serve that. But for the war.
“You have Elyon’s trust,” he echoed carefully.
She nodded, climbing on the bed, edging backward on her knees, still tugging him along. “Which means if I claim you—which I already have, sweet thing—that he’ll allow me my playthings. In other words—because I know these things are difficult for an angeling of light to understand—I can keep you alive, Oriel.”
“If I’m your… plaything.” He swallowed. He was naïve, but it wasn’t as if he were without knowledge altogether. She could only mean one of two things—pleasure or pain. Possibly both.
“Precisely.” She grinned and released his hand, then patted the bed next to her.
He carefully climbed on, hands and knees, then settled to sitting next to her. They were face-to-face now, and the humor in her eyes made him wary. He knew she was already “playing” with him, but he knew not the rules of this game or at all what the outcomes could be.
She drew in an appreciative breath as she slid her hand along his arm, drawing a hot line with her touch from wrist to shoulder. “Tell me how you Fell,” she whispered. “And please let it be a good story.”
He swallowed, but if he gained her confidence and Elyon’s… “I was a Guardian. My charge proved to be too alluring.”
She seemed delighted by this. “Oh, yes. A Fall from Lust is the very best kind. Was she at least good in bed?”
“We never made it to a bed.” The heat on his skin followed her touch, now spreading with her full hand across his bare chest.
“Oohh,” she sighed in pleasure. Her eyes met his. “You poor thing. All the penalty and you didn’t even get to taste the Sin.” Her hand found his nipple and held tight. That simple motion sent a pulse of unexpected pleasure through him.
He sucked in a small breath.
“Oh my,” she breathed. “So responsive.”
He swallowed. And he felt sure her playing would be the pleasure type, although he was uncertain if that was better or worse than pain.
“All right, angel boy,” she purred as she rose up on her knees and then straddled him. The heat of her leather-bound body pressed against his chest, her boots were rough on the sides of his legs, and the bare flesh of her thighs radiated warmth to his skin. She now towered over him, grasping his bare shoulders in her hands. “Here’s how this goes.” She whispered the words, but they were blaring through his body with the nearness of hers. “You lay back and enjoy this. And as long as you still please me, I’ll make sure Elyon keeps you alive.” She ran the back of her fingers up his cheek and across his lips. “What do you say, sweet thing?”
He was lost to the shadow side no matter what. This… pathway… offered the chance to yet serve his cause. And his body was already thrumming with her touch, a Lust more pure and harsh rising in him to meet it. The leftover need from his short kiss with Lizza came roaring back. Without heed, his penis grew quickly erect under the black drape of his toga.
Terah noticed and smirked. “That’s one vote. Your cock is saying, yes, please, fuck me now.” She brushed his lips with her thumb. “But I want to hear it from your pretty little lips.”
He swallowed. “Yes, please. Fuck me now.”
She grinned and let out a little laugh, almost too light for all the shadow that surrounded them. Then her dark eyes blazed at him. “Oh, yes. You’re going to be so much fun.” Her mouth crashed down on to his, hungry and devouring.
It was nothing like Lizza’s kiss. There, his heart had soared, and his whole soul had yearned for her. Here, the only thing soaring was his “cock.” And his heart rate. And a tsunami of Lust that swelled up and swept him away.
Terah’s tongue invaded his mouth, and he attempted to kiss her back. Her hands were rough on him now, shoving him back on the bed. As she continued to consume him with her mouth, her hands fluttered, and an instant later, their clothes were gone. Then everywhere, her hot flesh pulsed against his. The smooth skin of her back. The soft heat of her thighs, now straddling him as he lay back on the bed, his cock at full attention between them. She grasped it, making him cry out. The pleasure of that… holy angels of light.
“Oh, yes, angel boy,” she breathed against his mouth. “I’m going to make you feel pleasure like you’ve never known.”
He could hardly catch his breath while she had his cock in hand, but then she released him. He gasped in the air he’d lacked. She grabbed hold of his hands and placed them on her breasts. They were heavy and hot and soft as Sin. Above one was the tattoo she’d shown him—the one signifying her rank as Magis—and above the other was a different one, larger. Tajael had one similar but different—the ink identified Elyon’s Regiment. Oriel squeezed her breasts, and her nipples turned into pebbled stones. He rubbed them between his fingers, as she had done to him, and it made her tip her head back and moan. He did it again, harder, and she cried out. This pleasure-torment transfixed him until she ground the wet heat between her legs upon his cock, pressing it flat against his stomach and making him cry out. What the—for a moment, his mind blanked out.
“Yes. Fuck.” She ground against him. “You’re a big boy, aren’t you?”
The way she moved that slick heat against him strangled the breath right out of him.
“Oh, baby,” she panted, obviously as stricken with the pleasure as he was. He could hardly move, such that she had to guide his hands to her hips. They were soft and round and almost as electrifying has having her breasts in his hands. She tipped forward, one hand planted flat on his chest, pressing him into the bed. “This first time…” She moaned. “Will be fast, baby. Just hold tight and let Terah show you what to do. And don’t worry, we’re going to stretch everything out next time.”
He could hardly grasp the meaning of her words because her other hand—the one not pinning him to the bed—had slipped between their bodies to take hold of his cock.
“Holy magic,” he gasped.
“Oh, yes, baby.” She stroked him and grinned. “This is holy magic indeed.” Then she lifted her hips up… and impaled herself on him.
“Aggh!” he cried out, lifting his head and shoulders off the bed in reaction.
His cry was half drowned out by hers. “Fuck. Yes! So big.” He was buried deep inside her, in a hot tightness that exploded him with pleasure. She guided his hands to her hips again, then planted her hands both on his chest and pressed him back to the bed. “Hold on, angel boy.”
Hold on to what? But then his answer came when she lifted up and stroked down hard on him again. He cried out and clamped harder on her hips. She was panting and cursing and bouncing on him, stroking his cock faster and faster with her body. He held on tight, but his body was reacting on its own, thrusting up to meet her downward strokes, grunting with each bounce, groaning with the rushing pleasure. It seemed to build and build, and he thought sure he must die of this. This pleasure was blinding and extreme, and he was drowning in a wave of Lust sweeping over him, pulling him under.
“Yes. Fuck. Yes!” Terah cried as she slammed harder.
The pleasure was so intense, the need for release was like pain searing through him. Then something built and built and… crested inside him. Suddenly, his cock was twitching and shooting hot liquid. Her body squeezed even tighter around it, rhythmically pulling more pleasure from him. Her cries and curses continued as she stroked him all the way through that cresting and, then finally, descending.
Every muscle in his body went loose with the release.
He couldn’t move if he wanted to.
Terah eventually slowed her frantic pounding, coming to rest with her forehead bent to his chest. They were still coupled, but all they did was lie there and breathe. Heavily.
Sex. He understood now why humans indulged in it so often. Why Tajael and Charlotte spent every night in the throes of it. A distant twinge of Envy surged up. But the fates had not delivered to him the possibility of having this with Lizza. All things considered, having experienced it, even once with Terah, was a small compensation for that loss.
“Well, that…” Terah lifted up to gaze down at him. “Was spectacular. Even if rather brief.” She licked her lips, still breathing heavily.
As was he. “Does it usually last longer?” He couldn’t believe the hope in his voice with that. Was he so easily lost to the side of Sin? The answer there was clearly yes. Although he swore he would forsake such things and die on an obsidian angel blade if he could find a way to betray Elyon. However, he would have to bide his time to do so. And win Terah’s trust.
“It can last so much longer.” Terah grinned at him and ground him where they were still joined. “Are you ready for more?”
“More?” He could not possibly have heard her correctly. But then she lifted slightly and slammed back down and holy angels of light… the pleasure was still there.
“Fuck, yeah!” Terah said, grinding him again. “There’s nothing like the endurance of an angeling of light.”
“Endurance?” he asked, incredulous. But it was true. He could feel it himself. His cock was as rigid as it was just minutes ago.
“Why do you think I prefer them?” she asked with a grin. Then she slammed down on him and lay forward on his chest… and rolled.
Now he was on top, and she was beneath, but they were still connected. She grabbed hold of his cheeks with both hands. “Now fuck me, angel boy.”
His eyes went wide, but he did as he was told, thrusting into her. Holy magic. Somehow there was even more pleasure when he was driving the motion. She arched into him, grasping his shoulders and crying out for more. But he didn’t need instruction any longer. It was as if his body knew just what to do. Or perhaps he was just consumed with Lust, and had become a wild thing, coupling and thrashing and grunting in pleasure.
He pounded into her, again and again, and only somewhere, far back in his mind, was a small thought ringing out. A prayer. A tiny hope, as Terah writhed and cried out underneath him.
That some righteousness might be born out of his Sin. Somehow. Someday.
Then he was lost in the Lust completely.