Three Wishes (24 page)

“Terrified.” He turned around to face her, holding her hands to keep them against his waist. “How about you? Still afraid of rats?”

“All except for you. Well, I’m kind of afraid of you when you flip your tail around and claw me, but other than that, I’m good.”

She was more than good now. His skin was warm against her palms. Why didn’t he have clothing on? At the very least, some underwear would have been helpful. Oh yeah. He’d stacked it by their dinner remnants and couldn’t exactly put it on when her arms were gripping his sides.

“Maybe we need to work on these things further.” The demon reached out and touched the ridge of her wing.

Asta jumped, twitching away from his hand, wonderful sensations racing through her—sensations she knew were beyond forbidden. “Don’t. They’re sensitive.”

She’d forgotten she’d left them exposed. How odd that she was so comfortable around this demon that she’d allowed such a fragile and vital part of herself within arm’s reach of him. Although, it was probably fair given that he was naked.

“Oh, come now. You just got to pet me. It’s my turn.”

Asta felt her face heat realizing how intimate it must have felt to have her stroke his fur like that. Fair was fair. “All right. Although, if you hurt me, I’ll toss you off the roof.”

He laughed. “I’ll restrain myself.”

The rest was a blur. Asta closed her eyes and leaned against him, feeling his hands caress the feathers and trace the bone structure underneath. Of all her physical attributes, wings were where her spirit-self was most vulnerable. Every touch reached more than nerve endings; it hummed through her very core, to the angel inside the human form. He stroked every barb of every feather, dropping one hand below her wings to bring her hips forward against him.

“Do you trust me, Asta?”

She wanted to say “no”, but it would have been a lie. For millions of years she’d been told how deplorable demons were, how they had lost their way even before the war, how their fall from grace heralded their slide down the evolutionary slope. She’d been told, but she’d never known them as the angels they once were. Dar didn’t seem all that deplorable, outside of some twisted interests, that was.

Did she trust him? Admitting to trusting an enemy was the hardest thing she’d ever done. And the bravest.

“Yes. Yes, I trust you.”

His hand left her wing to cup her jaw and raise her face to his. “Will you be mine? I really want you to be mine.”

Mine. Did that mean the same thing to demons as it did to angels?
Two days. Two days and all this wonderful crazy rush of sensation would disappear.
Somehow the thought wasn’t as comforting as it had always been.

“Yes, but only if you will be mine.”

“Haven’t you noticed? I’ve been yours all along.”

His mouth met hers, light and teasing. Hands roamed up her waist, skimming along the joints of her wings before coming forward to cup her breasts. She felt a chill along her ribs and realized he’d bared his claws and torn her shirt to ribbons. It was ruined anyway, from her wings ripping through the back, but his pointed nails on the soft underside of her breast and the feel of silk strips across her skin was more than she could bear.

She stepped forward, her leg between his to keep him in step with her until his back met the side of the wall surrounding the staircase. Flesh resonated against metal, but he never broke stride, keeping one hand at her breast, while bringing the other up to grasp the nape of her neck. His fingers fisted in her curls, tugging at her scalp and forcing her head backwards so his mouth could leave hers to travel down the front of her neck.

“You sure?” His voice was husky and full of need, yet somehow vulnerable.

Two days. That’s all she had left. Two days
.

“Yes. I want you.”

The demon seemed to lose all control. His hands tore her clothing from her flesh, kneading and clawing in desperation. His need was incredibly liberating, and she found her hands roving his naked flesh, thankful she didn’t have to negotiate buttons and zippers to get to him.

Her lips parted, and her hands made their way up to circle his neck. His mouth was possessive and demanding, hungry as it plundered hers. Thought slid into the background as physical sensation took possession of her body and mind. Asta pressed herself against him, abandoning herself to the moment and kissing him as fiercely as he kissed her. Her body turned liquid; her heart raced; her blood pounded through her veins.

Dar pulled back, and his warm breath feathered against her cheek. She turned, brushing her lips against him as their eyes met. There was a flicker of something as he looked at her. “Can we... I don’t think I can be my best up here, nine-hundred feet above the ground. Could we possibly go inside? To your closet?”

The last word was said with a wicked grin. Her closet. She smiled. “Yes.”

The door had no sooner closed behind them than he was on her, pushing her backwards where she crashed against clothes and shelves of accessories, spilling them to the floor. They toppled down among them, rolling in a tangle of chiffon and silk until they came to rest against the wall that separated the main room from the kitchen.

“Damned mother-fucking pants. Where the hell...?”

She laughed softly against him, reaching her hands down to assist in clothing removal. It was all so intimate, far more intimate than any of her encounters with angels had ever been. Here they were, tangled in a heap of fabric, hot and desperate to find ecstasy in each other’s arms.

Her shirt was in tatters; she’d shimmied her pants down to her ankles and kicked them off. Nothing was between them except bare flesh, but Dar held back. His hands practically tickled her skin as they traced up the underneath of her arms and down her torso. His mouth roamed along her neck and shoulder, working slowly down. His erection was insistent against her inner thigh. She shifted, arching her lower back to urge him on.

“Damn. You angels have no patience whatsoever.” He chuckled against the top of her breast. Then his mouth moved lower, teasing around her breast then down to her waist. She made a small noise, bereft that she could no longer reach him with her mouth, and dug her hands into his hair.

It was soft, silky as feathers. Her fingers stroked through the strands as he worked his way down her waist and across her abdomen. Oh stars, the feel of him against her skin was glorious. His mouth was light and teasing, strands of his hair tickling along her waist. Her hands twisted his hair as his tongue glided along the crease of her thigh, skirting the part of her that throbbed and ached for him.

Asta couldn’t help the frustrated noise that escaped her, or her hands that yanked on his hair in an effort to bring his mouth where she desperately wanted it to be. His laugh against the crease of her pelvis was nearly enough to send her over the edge.

“Demanding, aren’t you? Well, I must obey when my angel commands.”

He bent his head, and the skillful flicks of his tongue drove every thought from her mind. When she came, it was like a nor’easter off Lake Michigan, driving and hard, blinding in its fury. She pulled his hair, her hips twisting as tremors rolled through her body.

Before they’d faded, he was a hard length against her, his mouth claiming hers.

“Your turn,” he murmured as he pulled her lip with gentle teeth. “Angel sex. Remember?”

Joining. But how could that ‘satisfying’ activity ever match what he’d just made her feel? Opening her eyes, Asta stared into the gray of his irises, memorizing the sharp lines of his cheekbones and jaw. Then she reached out with her spirit-self and dove into him, feeling their essence merge into a line of translucent white.

Holy shit—shoot. Holy shoot. This was... oh, my stars, this was amazing. Every muscle in Dar’s body tensed against her then he relaxed with a moan of pleasure. Flesh. Skin. She tasted his shoulder, working her way up along his neck to the corner of his mouth, digging her teeth hard into the flesh of his lip and all the while plowing her spirit-self into his. He shuddered, his eyes flaring with sparks of red among the silver.

“You are mine,” she told him, tasting him, roving her hands down to grip his ass, feeling him become one with her beyond the flesh.

“Damn straight I am.”

The whole hot length of him pressed her against the scattered clothing, digging her shoulder painfully into a stray hanger. Her breasts were crushed against the strength of his chest, his thighs demanding as they nudged hers apart to settle between them. Dar was all rippling muscle, taut sinew, powerful and sleek as he pressed against her. It drove her to the edge of insanity. She tilted her hips impatiently, feeling his manhood against her thighs.

“Okay, okay, greedy girl,” he teased.

He was up on his elbows, weight partially off her as he began to push himself slowly inside her. Asta’s eyes widened. His thickness stretched her; a tremor rocked like a wave through her body as he paused a few inches in.

“You okay?”

She was more than okay. Shit... shoot he was huge, stretching her to the edge and rocketing sensation through her. She pushed her spirit-self into his in return and felt a thrill as his body trembled against hers. She clenched around him, thrusting her hips up.

“You sure?”

“Yes.” Her voice was pissy, impatient, needy. His laugh was a throaty purr as he plunged into her. She reciprocated with her spirit-being, and they moved in rhythm, in and out, in both the physical and spiritual plane.

Everything was sensitive to the utmost degree. Her lips felt full and swollen, her face flushed, her breasts taught against his chest, her sex hot as molten lava. She spread her hands down across his back, digging her fingernails in and dragging them in furrows that surely must have broken the skin. Dar jolted as if he’d been hit by lightning, driving into her with increasing depth and speed, hard and deep, his movements savage.

When she gasped her climax, trembling against him as the waves of her orgasm crashed upon her, she felt him thicken and shudder out his release in time with hers. Their worlds came together. Two million years of meditation and rightful balance were nothing compared to this. Looking into his silver eyes as they both came, feeling the swirl of their spirit-selves joining, it was like two halves forming a whole. Never had she felt so alive. Never had she felt so... in love.

Asta awoke on a bed of vintage clothing, a demon by her side. Her breath caught as she remembered her transgressions from the night before. The last few days had been a delicious descent into sin, but last night... wow. Physical intercourse with a human was a shameful transgression, but would the sin be worse with a demon? Yes, they were the enemy, but they’d once been angels, and any kind of intimacy among their own kind was permissible. If she worked this around in her mind, it wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever done.

And it had rocked her world. That had to have been the best experience of her life. Nothing in over two-million years had come close.

Dar stirred, and she reached out a hand to smooth his black hair, tracing the intermittent silver strands with her finger. He was so different than the angels who had wooed her in Aaru. All the convoluted posturing and verbal debate vanished in his presence. He cut right to the chase, spoke what he felt, and when he prevaricated, it was somehow a lovely twist to their communication. Her opposite—although maybe there was some overlap between them. Either way, she craved the feel of his arms around her, pinning her to his chest as he drove himself into her warmth.

With a blink, silver-gray eyes met hers. Dar’s muscles contracted. It felt like an undulation along her breasts and torso.

“We have a mage to meet at nine.” His full lips curved up, and his eyes begged her to sin.

“He can wait.”

Chapter 17

A
t least one reporter in this town has a sense of humor.” Wyatt thrust the paper at Dar and Asta.

Rat Defeats High-Tech Security and Steals CEO Blind
. More interesting was the picture below the bold caption—a large rat gripping a bottle in two front paws.

“Hey, I’m famous! I made the paper.” Dar shoved the picture toward Asta’s face, as if she couldn’t see it clearly before.

“Lovely. I’m just glad no one got a picture of you naked in the hallway, or naked in the alleyway arguing with Wyatt, or naked wrestling with me over the bottle.”

“Oh, baby, that wrestling was about so much more than a paltry bottle.”

Dar leered, his eyes making a slow perusal of Asta’s human form. She hid a smile and pretended to concentrate on the article, secretly wondering whether he approved of the pencil skirt and fitted sleeveless shirt she wore. They went perfectly with the navy patent sandals whose four-inch heels made her tower over the demon.

Today was... different. She thought, come the cold light of day, she’d be embarrassed or regret last night’s actions. Instead, she felt like every cell in her body was alive and vibrating, like there were invisible threads that connected her to the demon. Every move he made, each expression that crossed his face registered. She couldn’t be any more aware of him if they were still naked and entwined in each other’s limbs.

Asta shot Dar a surreptitious glance. Was he feeling the same? Better to shove all this into the depths of her mind and concentrate on the issue at hand. Trying to ignore the uncomfortable emotions, she grabbed the paper and read the article.

Crap. Dar had evidently made quite an impression on the housekeeping staff. A giant rat had terrorized them, pushing around an antique bottle and threatening to bite them all before both he and the bottle vanished into the floor drains. Phelps had filed a police report, vowing to catch the thief at any cost. He’d even offered a reward for the capture of the burglar and recovery of his property. The article was written very tongue-in-cheek; the reporter clearly making fun of Phelps. The caption under a crude drawing of Dar asked
Has anyone seen this rat?
According to him, the police were taking a similar casual attitude toward the crime. It seemed there was more concern about the hotel’s questionable sanitation that allowed rats to roam freely in guest rooms than the stolen item.