Her Dark Angel (8 page)

It came in a blinding flash, sending a wave of scorching heat over her body. Her thighs tingled. He didn’t stop. He drove harder, longer strokes that built the fire inside her again, until she was moaning and clutching his hands, uttering quiet pleas for more.

Apollyon groaned each time he entered her, filling the bedroom with the sound. It was guttural and almost animalistic as he thrust faster and faster, until she was on the verge of crumbling into pieces again.

Serenity arched her back, choking his cock in her warm depths, and drawing a deep hard thrust from him as a response. She did it again, teasing him, trying to draw him to the edge with her. He raised her bottom from the bed and tore a moan from her throat when he plunged deeper, taking all of her. He gave a groan that she could only think of as a low growl and slammed into her core, his cock throbbing and spilling his warm seed. She clenched her muscles around him, aching to climax too. His hand delved between them and she groaned when the feeling of him coming inside her and the sweep of his thumb over her clit made her come, her body milking his. He held her there, moaning quietly as her muscles squeezed his softening cock.

She ran her gaze up over his body. A fine sheen of sweat covered it now, his bronzed skin shining with it and radiating power and beauty. It took her a moment to find the courage to look him in the eye. When she did, she found that he was smiling at her, his eyes a vivid shade of blue now as though his climax had affected them.

He held her still, remaining inside her, with her legs hooked over his arms.

His cock twitched and her eyes widened when he raked his gaze over her body and she felt him growing hard again.

He gave her a wicked smile and pulled out of her, only to lean over her and suck her nipples.

Serenity stared at the ceiling, lost in the hazy warmth of two orgasms and feeling as though she was shortly going to add a third.

And maybe a fourth.

And he said she was a devil.

A
pollyon stretched out in the bed, the dark pink duvet covering him from the waist down, and smiled from ear to ear. He had never felt so relaxed. Serenity slept beside him, curled up on her side with her hands around his right arm and her cheek pressed against it. Her breathing was soft and slow. He stroked the rogue strands of blonde hair from her face so he could see it better and felt how content she was. They had both enjoyed themselves last night.

When she had started showing signs of tiredness, he had stopped and contented himself with watching her sleep instead, enjoying the smile that had remained on her lips long after she had started dreaming. She was beautiful when she slept, beautiful when she was awake, beautiful when she screamed his name during her climax.

She had done that a few times.

Any immortal within at least two miles and any mortal in her building would have heard her. He smiled, feeling proud that he had managed to make her shriek at the top of her lungs. She had blushed violently afterwards and then burst into giggles. He loved the way she laughed. He loved that it had been because of him.

The sun had long since risen, casting warm light across the room through the white muslin curtains. He hadn’t slept much in the end. She had fascinated him too much and he had watched her the whole time. It had been dawn before he had realised it and he had dozed for a while, resting in her arms. He had never slept with someone like that before—held close by them, feeling protected in their embrace and content. Now he was wide awake while his angel slept. He wanted to wake her, to have her look at him and see her smile, but she needed to rest. She had been through so much recently and he had seen how it had affected her. Her smile had disappeared but he had brought it back and it felt as though he had made the sun shine again.

Apollyon pressed a light kiss to her forehead and gently removed her hands from his arm. She murmured a quiet protest, wrinkled her nose, and huddled down into the covers. He left the bed and pulled the covers up to her shoulders, tucking her in.

He waved his hand over himself, putting his black loincloth back in place, and padded quietly from the bedroom and through the living room to the kitchen. It was darker in the small kitchen and dining room. The sun didn’t reach around this side of the building. His shoulders itched and he rolled them, trying to ease the tension building there. His wings wanted to come out. He hadn’t confined them for this long in millennia. He hadn’t needed to. Sleeping on them had been painful and it had taken a lot of effort to get them to disappear. Serenity seemed to like him without wings. It had made whatever reservations she had about him disappear anyway.

She thought angels were saints.

He had definitely disproven that theory last night.

He smiled, lifted the latch on the French doors, and walked out onto the balcony.

The sun was high and shone down on his back when he reached the black railings around the balcony, warming his skin until his tension melted away. He sighed and his wings unfurled with a strong flap, spreading out to stretch across the length of the balcony. It felt good to release them for a while. He would put them away again before Serenity woke. He didn’t want to scare her off now that he was making progress with her. He wasn’t sure if the sight of his wings would do that but he didn’t want to risk it.

Did his fellow warriors have this problem?

He wished there was one nearby so he could speak to them about it.

Apollyon stared out over the grey slate roofs of the Paris suburb. There was a leafy avenue below, hidden in the shade. The quiet sound of cars passing cut the silence, adding a background noise to it that made the whole world feel peaceful.

His fellow warriors probably hadn’t fallen for a witch.

A smile tugged at his lips again. A witch. She worried about what people would make of him if they could see his black wings. What would they make of her if they knew that she possessed powers that were only real in most humans’ imaginations?

“Mmm, there you are.” Her voice was hushed, lazy and full of happiness that he could feel in her. He closed his eyes when she ran her hands up his back to his shoulders and stroked the start of his wings.

Damn, that felt good.

Apollyon kept still, enjoying the feel of her hands running over his feathers and not wanting to scare her away. She giggled when he folded his wings, the sound light in the air. His smile widened. She skimmed her hands down the outside of his wings, teasing his flight feathers, her touch light and soothing.

“I wish I had wings,” she whispered.

He turned slowly to face her. “You do?”

She nodded and cast a glance over them. “They’re beautiful. If I had wings, I’d never stop flying.”

“You are beginning to sound like an angel. We love nothing more than to fly.”

“Really? Nothing more than flying?” Her lips curved into a smile and a hint of colour touched her cheeks. “Could have fooled me.”

He grinned at her insinuation. He loved that too, but flying had a special place in his heart, as it did with all angels. Taking her up last night, standing atop the Eiffel Tower with her, had been magical and had made him realise just how deeply he had missed flying when he had been stuck in Hell. He hadn’t wanted to leave, could have stayed there all night with her in his arms, tucked safely in his wings, but she had been cold and kissing her had become too tempting.

“Come inside and I’ll find us some breakfast.” She walked towards the doors.

His gaze fell to her body and he held his groan inside. The sight of her in the small dark red slip threatened to get him going again. He stared at her long slender legs and how her backside shifted as she walked. Divine.

He was staring at her so much that he forgot about his wings. They banged against the doorframe. He grimaced and focused, trying to make them disappear.

“You could just duck like you did last night.”

Apollyon stopped and looked at her. Was she approving of his wings now? That thought and the affectionate shine in her hazel eyes made him smile. She was growing more comfortable with him.

He ducked and kept his wings tucked up so he didn’t knock anything over in the dining room.

Serenity walked into the small pale kitchen, opened a tall white box that he recognised as a refrigerator, and looked inside. He saw milk and cheese, and other food he couldn’t identify. Studying the mortal world from a distance did have its drawbacks. Most of the time, people didn’t mention what things were called so he couldn’t hear their names. Sometimes, he would receive briefing documents that kept him up to date with the latest inventions so he was prepared for being called to Earth, or other angels would tell him of things they had experienced if they had a reason to come down to the bottomless pit.

His stomach growled. He had forgotten how much energy he used when on Earth. He didn’t need to eat when he was in Hell. Time passed strangely there and he was truly immortal on that plane. On Earth, things were different. In order to fit in, certain parts of him changed or switched off, and other parts switched on. Hunger was one of them.

Serenity bent over, revealing the curve of her bare bottom.

His body ached at the sight.

Lust seemed to be another.

But he was beginning to feel that this was something other than lust.

She took a pot from the refrigerator and pulled a black machine away from the back of the kitchen counter. He studied her movements, learning and curious. She filled a large glass jug with water and poured it into the machine. What was she doing?

“Do you want some coffee?” Her breezy smile turned shy. “Maybe not.”

She had figured out what effect coffee had on him. He walked into the kitchen, until he was close to her.

“I could go for a cup, if you are.” He raked his gaze over her, memorising the subtle curves hidden beneath her red satin slip.

Her cheeks matched the colour of it when his eyes met hers again.

“Are you hungry?”

“Starved.” He pulled her against him and kissed her, sliding his hands over her hips. She placed her hands on his chest and he thought she was going to stop him again, but instead she moaned and kissed him, her lips dancing softly over his, stirring fire in his veins.

Apollyon pressed her against the kitchen counter and gathered her into his arms, his tongue tangling with hers and stealing her breathy moans. He groaned and kissed her deeper, unleashing his passion and hunger, letting it build inside him. His body responded to the feel of the kiss and her hands wandering over his chest, warm against his skin, setting him aflame wherever she touched.

She pulled back, breathing hard, and smiled.

He stared at her mouth, hungry to kiss her again, finding it hard to give her a moment to catch her breath. She twirled under his arm and out of his reach, going back to the black machine and pressing a button. It began to make noises.

“Do you want a shower?” She turned back to him.

“With you?”

She blushed again. “I was thinking alone.”

“I have been alone long enough.” He smiled but it faltered and he frowned at the sudden feeling of emptiness inside him. He had been happy a moment ago. Before that, he had been content. And before meeting her he had been fine.

He had been lonely.

Meeting her had made him realise that. He had watched her so much that he had lost awareness of the feeling. It had drifted to the back of his mind, put there by how often he saw her in the pool. She had chased away his loneliness even back then, making him feel as though he wouldn’t be waiting forever and he wasn’t alone. He had known her, studied her, stalked her as she put it, and he had never realised.

Not until he had met her.

He had watched her in the pool, had watched her smile and laugh, each of them touching his heart without him knowing it, and had felt her pain when she had been sad and hurt. He had responded to it, desired to assist her and make her feel better so she would be happy again.

She had called.

He had responded because he had feelings for her.

Apollyon tensed when her fingers lightly brushed his cheek. She stood before him, smiling up into his eyes. A smile for him. He had brought it back and now she smiled even when she was confused. Her feelings travelled through her touch and into him, deep into his heart. She was concerned and he knew what she was going to ask.

“Where did the serious look come from?” she whispered with a small frown, searching his eyes as though they held the answer.

He caught her hand, kissed her palm and smiled. He had feelings for her. Could she love him? Was it really possible for a mortal to love an angel? He wished more than ever that some of his fellow warriors were in Paris so he could ask them and ease the strange tight sensation in his chest. Fear. He shook it away. He had never felt fear, not even when he had faced the Devil and cast him into the bottomless pit for millennia. He wasn’t going to start now. He wasn’t going to be afraid of Serenity. He would make her fall for him.

He would make her love him.

“It’s nothing.” He kissed her hand again and then her wrist, working his way up to her elbow. “What about that shower?”

“What about the coffee?”

Apollyon grinned, lifted her onto the kitchen counter, and settled himself between her thighs. He ground his erection against her crotch.

“I do not need the coffee.” He rubbed himself against her. Kitchen counters were a good height, perfect in fact.

“I can see that.” She ran her hands around his hips. “We can shower later.”

He liked the sound of that. Later they could pick up where they left off last night. Right now though, he was going to make love with her and make her see that this wasn’t lust that he was feeling.

Serenity stroked his shoulders and touched his feathers again. He wasn’t going to make them go away. She had to be his like this, while he looked like himself, not like a mortal. He didn’t want to hide any part of him from her. He needed her to accept him as a whole.

Apollyon skimmed his hands up her thighs, slipping them under the hem of her red satin slip and raising it. He ached at the sight of her bare pussy and clutched her backside, bringing her right to the edge of the counter. She dragged her fingertips down his chest, over his stomach, and to his hips again. They stopped there, running along the waist of his black loincloth. He could feel her hesitation.