Messenger's Angel: A Novel of the Lost Angels (20 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

A
zrael had told him that she had a particular fondness for Slains. The vampire had shamelessly pilfered her mind as he’d stolen her from the elevator shaft in Sam’s hotel. When Az had suggested wooing Juliette, Gabriel had forced the vampire to share everything he knew about her before he slipped into his vampire sleep. And Gabriel had run with the information. He and his brothers had worked quickly to re-create just one room in the castle; he’d wanted to give her a piece of the past that she loved so much.

He’d wanted only to show her something special. To see her smile. But when she had gone still before him and he had moved around her to look down into her eyes, she had besieged him. Her thankfulness was too great, too poignant, her understanding far too deep. He’d found himself drowning in the bottomless gratification in her beautiful eyes, and he was done for.

So many things Gabriel had said to women over the years—so many words he had whispered. But never these. These were for his archess, and her alone. And when they finally—
finally
—made their way to freedom past the confines of his lips and heart, he was nearly overcome with emotion. A whitewash mixture of relief, heart-wrenching fear, and overwhelming joy swirled within him, blotting out every sense he possessed save the ones that were occupied by Juliette.

He knew only the feel of her lips against his, the smell of her skin, the taste of dessert on her tongue, and the heat radiating from her tiny form as he held her to him—unable to get close enough. He wanted to devour her. He needed to be closer, but physics denied him. His heart was cracking open, his soul was unfolding to life, and the world was crumbling to bits all around him. None of it mattered any longer.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was infinitely grateful that he’d chosen the master chamber to rebuild. With a quick bend, Gabriel was lifting her into his arms. He didn’t allow her to break the kiss; he needed her too badly. If she pulled away even a little, he would surely shatter.

But Juliette didn’t pull away. She didn’t seem to notice that he lifted and carried her toward the master bed. Her lips parted for him, her tongue tentatively explored, and her body melted into his, offering up the sweetest surrender. She was tiny in his arms, precious and tender and fragile, and he wanted her so badly in that moment, he was afraid he would break her.

Two thousand years of searching, of hunting, and of needing came rushing forward as he leaned into the bed, following her down until he was pressing her into the mattress. Still, he didn’t break the kiss. And he couldn’t hold back.

His kiss deepened, demanding that she open for him. His hands found her neck and gripped lightly—so small. And then he found her jacket and the clothes she wore underneath and all he could feel for them was loathing because they separated her from him. Desperate yearning ripped through him and he growled as he broke their kiss.

“Forgive me,” he said. He meant it for so many things. For what he had put her through, for the way he had treated her, even for the situation she now found herself in. He wanted her forgiveness—needed it. Because he couldn’t hold back.

Her eyes were glassy, her lips red and parted, her breathing shallow. Her lids were heavy, lashes lowered, cheeks flushed.

My God,
he thought.
Have mercy.
“Forgive me,” he repeated, choking the words through a constricted throat and gritted teeth. He was begging her this time, beseeching—he needed to know.

Juliette smiled an impious smile that was gone almost as quickly as it appeared. “Make me,” she gasped.

With that, Gabriel’s eyes widened, and he felt them begin to glow. He jerked her up and shoved the jacket off her shoulders. A split second later, he was tossing it to the floor. Again, he claimed her lips with his own, stealing her breath. As he drove her into the mattress with his kiss, his hand slid up under her long-sleeved shirt. Her skin was so soft, so warm; he growled against her lips. He felt the ridges of her ribs and then his fingertips brushed the bottom of her bra. A part of him—the human, the archangel, the man—wanted to rip the garment off her and destroy it for keeping him at bay.

But there was another part of him yawning to life now. It was what was left when everything else was blown away and the soul was laid bare before the one it loved. That part of him could never do anything to hurt Juliette. So, with a gentle patience he could not believe he possessed, Gabriel slid his hands along her rib cage and across her back. As he did, he luxuriated in the feel of her, like silk and satin, warm and precious and tender.

The fingers of both of his hands curled over the clasp of her bra and he fought with himself. This time he lost. He tugged and the metal clasp broke. Then he took both bra and shirt and shoved them up her arms, forcing her to raise her arms over her head. There, he gently trapped her wrists above her on the bed, binding them in his desperate grasp.

“Forgive me?” he asked. His tone was filled with some kind of warning now. He easily held her arms with one hand as his other trailed back down her now bare arm and to the swell of her perfect breasts.

He reared up above her, knowing he must look strange to her. He knew his silver eyes were burning like liquid lightning, stark in the tanned skin of his face. He knew his pupils had expanded. He had no control over it. He looked down at her, exposed and helpless beneath him, and knew once and for all that a demon existed within everyone. Angel or not.

Juliette arched beneath him as she halfheartedly tried to pull her arms free. Her lips were swollen from his kiss, parted and perfect. Her cheeks were flushed and her porcelain skin was bathed in moonlight, nearly luminescent.

Gabriel watched the color of her eyes change, becoming starkly green. He saw her own pupils expand and couldn’t look away. He had become her prisoner as much as she had his. He gazed, transfixed, wanting to see every exquisite expression that crossed her lovely face as his hand moved farther down to very slowly trail along the outside of one creamy breast.

She stilled beneath him, her breath held, her eyes caught in his, as his thumb brushed tauntingly across her nipple and she arched in response, the smallest gasp escaping her throat. She pressed her flesh into his palm and he exhaled harshly at the feel of it. Slowly, she lowered back down onto the mattress, her breathing now ragged. He leaned in and put his lips to her ear.

“Wha’ do you say, luv?” His voice had become guttural, constricted with lust. Her tenderness beneath him was clawing at him. He needed to get closer.

Again, he brushed his thumb across her nipple, this time pressing ever so slightly on her hard peak before moving on. He watched the side of her face, noting how she closed her eyes and her long, thick lashes brushed across the top of her cheek. She moaned softly, such small and innocent prey, and he reveled in it. “Forgive me yet?”

He placed his lips to her cheek, kissing her tenderly. She didn’t reply. His hand moved lower, sliding across the flat plane of her stomach until he was riding the swell of her hip bones. He paused, releasing a shaky breath. Juliette’s power was overwhelming him. The feel of her flesh beneath his fingers was like an electric buzz humming through his hand and up his arm. She sighed and he heard music. He closed his eyes, lost in her. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware that his fingers were curling beneath the band of her jeans and the underwear beneath. A flick, a pull, and her clothes were sliding down over her lean legs.

A wave of warmth washed over him; her skin radiated heat. The soft scent of soap wafted across the bed, enveloping him in its femininity. He breathed deeply, wanting to fill himself with it.

His breath caught and he stilled when he felt Juliette’s fingertips lightly brush the sides of his neck. He hadn’t even realized he’d released her. She was so tentative.
Och, lass . . .
He wanted more.
Touch me.

As if she could read his mind, Juliette’s fingers ran through the sable black curls of his hair, grasping them lightly as he moved over her body, covering her with his still-clothed form.

She shuddered beneath him and moaned when he snaked one arm under her to wrap it around her waist as his other hand ran along her silky, exposed body. He rose onto his knees, pulling her up with him until she was seated beneath him and he was stealing her lips with his kiss once more.

A century passed between them and he let it go. And another. He opened her up, delving past her gates and subjugating her mouth as he let the years slip away, one by one. Twenty decades and then a hundred—until two thousand years were sliding off his shoulders, and he began to feel as light as the air around them.

The wind breezed into the master’s chamber, brushing her long beautiful hair around her bare shoulders and across her back. Gabriel’s hands fisted in the silken lengths. He couldn’t let her go, and when he felt her fingers curling beneath the edges of his sweater, he had to fight between his need to hold her to him—and his desire to feel his own skin against hers.

He growled against her lips and again lost the battle when he felt her hands on his bare waist, warm and soft and innocent. He pulled away, yanked his sweater and shirt over his head, and tossed them aside.

Juliette’s green eyes widened, her gaze trailing boldly across the muscles of his chest and midsection. He wanted to let her look. He wanted to be everything she had ever dreamed of—as she was to him. But she was so small and so beautiful before him, her skin glowing radiantly, her waist trim, her collarbone inviting, her breasts small and round and utterly perfect. She raised her hands and placed them hesitantly to his chest, and Gabriel’s silver, glowing eyes closed once more.

Heat sparked across his skin, sinking through the muscle and bone beneath until he felt something ignite somewhere deep, deep inside. She was consuming him with her ripe vulnerability.

“Juliette,” he whispered, growled, gasped. “My love . . .” She was his archess. And he needed to be closer.
By God
, he needed to be closer.

The rest of his clothes, he simply flashed away with no more than a supernatural thought. He had officially run out of willpower. He was hard and hot and heavy and as he laid himself bare before her, he again took them down into the mattress, one hand curled into a fist in her hair, the other pressed into the sheet beneath them. His hand fisted the sheet with stark impatience, with craving, and with pain. The feel of her warm and soft against his rigid need was nearly unbearable.

Her legs bent beneath him, unwittingly opening her up to him. She gasped, suddenly feeling him there, taunting, tempting, brushing against her with red-hot warning. A monster leapt to life within him, narrowing his silver gaze, subjugating his body. He had never lost control before—but he was losing it now.

His hands skimmed her waist, trailing up to cup her supple breasts as she writhed beneath him, daring him to take what was his. She was playing with fire. He squeezed gently, brushing his thumbs against her taut nipples. They hardened under his manipulations and her head tossed to the side, her eyes shut tight. He moved in to press his lips to her throat and then trailed them along her collarbone to her shoulder.

He continued to tease her nipples and she tried to arch away, the sensation clearly too much for her. But he would not relent. His teeth raked gently against the skin on her shoulder and then he once more captured her hands in his and held them to the bed as he moved lower, until his tongue flicked out across the sensitive bud that rose so taut and tempting in the air.

Juliette gasped loudly, arching once more beneath him. He rode her momentum, expertly easing himself over her until the tip of his shaft parted her silken, moist lips. Now she cried out beneath him. “Gabriel!”

“Yes, luv?” He speared her with a hard, sultry look, his voice no more than a harsh whisper before he took his teeth to the nipple his tongue had just teased. Again, Juliette cried out, and he relished the sound. His tall form was taut as a bowstring now, strong and hard and barely contained, as his archess continued to torment him with her beauty.

“I . . .” She tried to speak, but moaned again when Gabriel used his teeth to pull on her nipple and her back followed him up, arching beautifully to relieve the quick, mild pain that melted into pleasure as he flicked it expertly with his tongue. She nearly sobbed beneath him, and he released her hands. They instantly dove through his hair, fisting tightly, gripping him with a hunger that was beginning to mirror his own.

“I forgive you!” she finally called out, curving her body into his, her skin begging to be tasted, her body begging to be taken.

Gabriel felt his eyes flash, saw something white flicker in his peripheral vision, and heard a rumble in his own chest. Her movement urged him on and he drove slowly forward, slipping exquisitely past her outer barriers and into her warm tightness.

She enveloped him, gripping him firmly, and he groaned in velveteen bliss. Thoughts scattered like bits of paper on a hurricane wind. Somewhere in the distance, he heard thunder roll and couldn’t care. Slowly, he eased deeper, relishing every millimeter of hot, unyielding tightness her small body offered. She moaned again and Gabriel swallowed it, taking her mouth with renewed hunger.

She tried to meet him halfway, rising up off the sheet, but he stilled her with a firm hand on her waist and continued to take his time entering her. He never wanted this moment to end. It was maddening and delicious to the point of danger, but it was his.
She
was his. And he had waited too long for this.

Inch by inch, he delved past her defenses, sinking into her body with a slow, lascivious determination. She was so small and so tight and he was so large at points she squeezed him with a near agony—and he was in heaven. Juliette shuddered in his arms, her hands slipping from his hair to his chest, where her nails threatened the taut skin over his hard muscles. She gasped for breath between his kisses, panting against his lips.

At last, he was completely within her, having driven deeper and more fully than he had thought possible. She trembled beneath him and he shuddered in response. Slowly, he ended their kiss and raised himself above her, bracing his weight on his hands against the mattress.