Far From Heaven (23 page)

“And you are…?”

“I’m his wife. Please call me Anne.” She offered her hand, still looking shell-shocked, and Madeleine shook it, feeling the same. This was surreal. Anne glanced back into the house. “I’m afraid he’s not doing so well at the moment.”

“I had heard he was ill. I’m terribly sorry.”

Anne nodded, removing the silver-framed glasses she’d been wearing and wiping her eyes before replacing them. “I’m sorry, this is just so…”

Madeleine reached over and touched her arm. “I know.”

Composing herself, Anne went on. “Yes, he has cancer. The doctors, they’re still trying, but things aren’t looking too well this time. The treatments take a lot out of him and he’s resting. But I know he would be so upset if I didn’t tell him you were here.”

“I don’t want to disturb him—”

“Nonsense. Come in out of the cold before you freeze.” She held her arm out toward Ash and ushered them both inside. “And who is this handsome fellow? Your husband, surely?”

Just my demon lover.

“Oh, something like that,” he said. Madeleine bit her lip on a smile. “Call me Ash.”

She looked around the living room as they traded pleasantries. Though outside it was nearly dusk, the scent of coffee drifted in from the kitchen. It was nice and homey here, the end tables and walls crowded with pictures of loved ones. At least he seemed to have lived a life full of happiness.

She hoped she’d get the opportunity to meet some of the faces in those photos, the family she’d never known. Maybe they would be closer to her than the one she’d had. Maybe.

“He had some strange stories to tell,” Anne was saying a little nervously when Madeleine turned her attention back to her. “He never could really explain how he knew about you, or knew your name at all. At least, he would never tell me. I suspected he had more to say, he just wouldn’t say it. But come to think of it…for some reason he believed something might have happened to you. Lord, honey, you can probably help answer a thousand of my questions he’s turned aside over the years.”

“I’ll be happy to,” she said, casting a glance at Ash.

“Please, have a seat. I’ll let him know you’re here.” Anne indicated the afghan-covered couch and slipped quietly from the room.

“I think you probably
should
wait out here,” Madeleine whispered to Ash. “I mean, if I get to go back and see him.”

He nodded, pulling her into his arms. “That would be best.”

She breathed in his scent, wrapping herself in the comforting warmth of his embrace. “If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t know my name, would he? He wouldn’t know about me at all.”

“I guess not,” he murmured. “I told him about you.”

“My mom knew who he was, but as far as I know, she never even attempted to contact him. No one did.”

Ash kissed her forehead just as Anne came back into the room.

“Madeleine? You’ll have to come on back here, but he’s so excited to meet you.”

Madeleine left Ash’s embrace and moved away, holding one of his hands as long as she could before she had to let it go. He smiled at her, and again, she thought she could see something shining in his eyes. “Thank you,” she mouthed to him, and followed Anne down the hall.

About the Author

If Cherrie Lynn’s parents are to be believed, she’s been writing since before she can remember. Through her formative years, her stories evolved from epic graphic novels about dragons and unicorns to middle school angst-inspired teen soap operas. Once she discovered her mom’s romance novels, she finally found her place.

She adores electronic gadgets, heavy metal, gaming, and horror movies. You can often find her traveling far and wide to catch her favorite rock acts live, but she’s much too fragile to go near a mosh pit.

Cherrie lives in Texas with her husband and two kids. She loves hearing from readers, so drop her a line at
[email protected]
or visit her at
http://www.cherrielynn.com
.

Look for these titles from Cherrie Lynn

Now Available:

Unleashed

Rock Me

Sweet Disgrace

She has Heaven to lose. He has Hell to pay.

Sweet Disgrace

© 2010 Cherrie Lynn

Centuries of heartbreak. Grinding failures punctuated by too-few victories. What angel in her right mind would want this job? Celeste, who’s driven to save Devil-contracted souls before Hell can claim them, is weary, but not beaten. Yet.

Her latest case makes her wonder if it’s all worth the anguish. A demon enticed a too-young musician into selling his soul for fortune and fame. To make matters worse, that demon is Damael, an insufferable, frightening minion with airtight contracts—and a body that makes her long for sin.

Damael’s always had a soft spot for Celeste, but if his bored superiors want drama, he’ll give them drama. Though it pains him to trick the angel he wants with all his black heart, eons of restrained lust win out. He makes the deal: her body in exchange for the human’s soul.

She wasn’t supposed to accept.

Damael can’t be trusted, but with the deadline bearing down, Celeste lays everything on the line in a last-ditch effort to save just one precious soul. Even if it means losing hers—along with her heart.

Warning: This title contains graphic language, explicit sex, an angelic heroine with attitude…and a demonic hero who’s smoking hot. Literally.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Sweet Disgrace:

“I’ve always thought you’re a worthy adversary. You don’t give up until the end. You deserve more than to be left on the ground, wallowing in pain.” Damael reached forward and slid his hands beneath Celeste’s body, seeing her eyes fly open wide in alarm. Weakly, she struggled against him, but he was too strong for her at this point. He lifted her and shifted until he was sitting on the ground, cradling her in his arms.

She felt frail against him, insubstantial. The softness of the wings folded tight against her back made his mouth run dry. He’d never touched anything like that before in his life. Hadn’t known such suppleness existed, until she was in his arms.

Her chest was heaving, her hand gripping his jacket even as she stared up at him apprehensively. He couldn’t interpret whether her reaction was from fear or desire or perhaps a combination of both. Sudden frustration engulfed him whole and chewed him up without mercy.

“Stubborn angel, I give you my word, dammit, and I don’t do that often. Let me help you. But I won’t do it without your permission,” he added, hearing the tight, barely leashed desperation in his own voice. “
Give it to me
.”

“If you lie to me, I’ll send an extermination squad after you.” The vow was laced with an intensity that made him not doubt her words for a second. And then the coolness of her fingers crept over either side of his face and she pulled his mouth down to hers.

The shock that went through his system was another first. She must have felt it too, because the instant his lips met hers, she gasped and her hands tightened on him. But she didn’t fling him away. A shuddery sigh escaped her, and her air-light body seemed to melt into him. Her hands gentled too, sliding from his face to bury themselves in his hair.

Her lips were cool, pliant, sweeter than all the fruits of the earth. She didn’t stiffen against him or feign any sort of unwillingness or reluctance, and this, more than anything, was his undoing. He could almost believe she was allowing this because she wanted it, not for any favors he could do her.

But he’d given his word.

He opened himself to the darkness coursing through her. As he’d hoped, it responded, drawn back toward its source. He drank it from her, absorbed it, cleansed her of it until not a single particle of Nax’s filth remained in Celeste’s pristine spirit.

He had to be careful not to place any of his own there. He felt as if everything within him was being sucked out by nothing but the tender play of her lips beneath his. She could wring him dry, leave him nothing but a husk, and he would only think it a delicious way to go.

His task was done. She was clean. But he couldn’t release her. She whimpered into his mouth, and he drank in the sound as eagerly as dawn claimed the sky above them. He ached, throbbed, yearned to possess her. The effort of restraining his hands from roaming the softness of her body was as precarious as binding two mad beasts with something as fragile as yarn. One more move, one more sigh from her, and that binding might break…

She stunned him to his core when she lifted herself from his embrace and crawled to her knees without losing the contact with his mouth, without releasing her hold on him. There on the ground, he sat back as she shifted and straddled him, staring up at her with something akin to astonishment. And there in his gaze, she seemed to check herself. She froze, lips hovering mere centimeters from his, fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Oh, God,” she whimpered. Those eyes were so close to his it was like a whole other world opening up in front of his face.

She was going to stop; he was about to lose her. That was…best, really. It was. She would never have to know just how deceptive he truly was. He told himself this as he sat and looked at her and decided he would sell his own soul—or whatever it was he had—to touch her…really, truly allow himself to
touch
her. Everywhere.

Celeste’s thumb gently traced over his eyebrow, her gaze searching his face. “Your eyes look normal again.”

He opened his mouth to remark that was surprising, considering the agony she’d put him in, but what he said was, “Do I frighten you?”

A crease appeared in her ordinarily smooth, flawless forehead. “Many times you have.”

The thought had occurred to him before. But since she knew he posed no threat to her while they were on assignment, he’d dismissed the notion. She’d often seemed appalled by him, surely exasperated, but never truly
afraid
.

“I would never hurt you,” he said, and meant it completely.

“Well, you can’t, not while—”

“I wouldn’t.
Ever
. Hurt you.”

She was trembling against him. One touch, he told himself, that was all. He dropped his hand to her thigh, slid it upward, felt the firmness of the muscle beneath the silky fabric of her robes. Her head lolled back and she pushed her hips toward him with exquisite abandon. His thumb brushed the juncture of her thighs through the material, and a tiny cry escaped her swollen lips. The slim white column of her throat bared to him so fully, so trustingly, was too much to resist, and he dragged his mouth down the creamy expanse as his hand sought entrance under her garment.

She stiffened as he gained it, every muscle tight and on alert, but she didn’t pull away. Didn’t stop him. Only gave the most seductive moan he’d ever heard as his fingertips found soft, hot, welcoming wetness—

A sudden sound from the house broke the spell. Celeste jerked away from him, scrambling backwards as if fleeing a venomous snake about to strike. She jumped to her feet, still exhibiting a grace that made him think of an offended feline, and quickly smoothed her robes down with several swipes of her hands.

He sat, forlorn and grudgingly devastated, while she looked down at herself as if just now realizing she could move again instead of only rolling on the ground in agony.

“It worked,” she said wonderingly.

Oh, yes, it worked. It had worked all too well. The dark energy he’d pulled into himself was still boiling, turning his thoughts red. He was so hard the only image his mind could conjure was taking her back to the ground and shoving his aching cock as deep inside her as he could get it. Feverishly he wondered if she would arch against him with the same liquid fluidity with which she moved. If her voice would carry its usual sweet lilt when he finally made her cry out his name. Or, even better, would he evoke such fierce, violent reactions in her that she might sound almost as savage as he knew
he
would?

It was the only relief he could imagine—fucking her until all those centuries of lust were out of his system for good.

And that might take a while.

Now, he managed to compress all that hunger, all that desperation. He beat it into submission and smoothed it over with one carefully controlled utterance. “I told you.”

“Thank you. That was…unexpected.”

“That I kept my word? Or that you liked it?”

Her lips parted as if she meant to snap an automatic retort, then she closed them again. She wouldn’t want to
lie
, after all. What came out of her mouth then wasn’t what he’d anticipated.

“Will you…give me some time alone with Adam?”

Frowning, he got to his feet. He’d had enough of her looking down on him. “Why?”

“Please do this for me. Leave him alone for the next few hours, that’s all I ask.”

She was striving for normalcy, apparently wanting to pretend she hadn’t just had his fingers between her legs, so he matched her. “You know, doing all of these favors for you is getting a trifle exhausting.”

“What
favors
? Everything you offer is wrapped up in your own selfish motivations. This is the first true favor I’ve asked of you.”

What could she be plotting? He waved a hand and sighed. “Fine. I don’t see what it can possibly hurt, so go on. I don’t care.”

“Thank you.” Eagerly, she turned as if to run away, then whirled back to face him. “Again.”

“I’m giving you two hours,” he said crossly, annoyed by her enthusiasm, but making a point to look unconcerned. “And then I’m torturing him enough to make up for it.”

She rolled her eyes and disappeared in a flash of golden light.

Two wrongs don’t make a right, but they might just make the perfect match.

The Matchmakers

© 2009 Jennifer Colgan

Nick Garret is flypaper for females, and he likes it that way. Women stick for a while, and when it’s over they fly away. So does he. Then one rain-slick night a young woman steps in front of his pickup truck, and his jaded, cynical life takes a sharp swerve toward trouble.