“Does your cousin Serenity intend to make herself such a family with Apollyon?” Another cleverly constructed question, as long as she overlooked the fact that he was asking things about her cousin and his twin, two people he really didn’t give a damn about.
Her expression shifted, revealing a sliver of confusion. “I don’t think so… I mean… how? Angels are sterile.”
And that was the answer to most of his questions.
Now came the tiebreaker.
“Do you want a family to replace those you lost?”
She stared at his chest for the longest time and then lifted her eyes back to his. “I can’t say I’ve ever thought about it. I don’t really go crazy over babies like some witches at the coven. I don’t particularly feel compelled to pick them up and coddle them, or even play with them. Most of the time they seem to get in the way.”
“So you don’t want a baby in your belly?”
She giggled. “Is that your rather childish way of asking whether I’ll be pissed if you don’t knock me up somehow?”
Asmodeus glared at her and set her away from him, furling his wings against his back. He folded his arms across his chest.
Romulus perked up and drowsily checked on him, having evidently sensed his rising anger, and then yawned and went back to sleep.
Liora ran her hands over Asmodeus’s folded arms, separating them easily, and took hold of his hands again. “No, I won’t be upset. Babies really aren’t on my agenda.”
“Because you fear demons will take them from you?”
She laughed now. “Seriously? If you were the father, I could hardly see that happening. You fought the Devil for me. I can’t imagine who you would fight to protect your offspring.”
“I would tear down Heaven to protect them and you.” That earned him a bright smile.
“There you go again… saying beautiful things. So… yes.”
“Yes?” He couldn’t remember asking her a question other than whether she feared demons would take her babies.
She tiptoed, kissed him, and whispered against his lips, “Yes, I’ll take the heart you offered me.”
Asmodeus recaptured her lips, seizing control of the kiss and showing her just how much that meant to him. He curled his wings around her again, shielding her from the inquisitive gaze of Remus, and gathered her into his arms. Her palms pressed against his chest, burning him through his ruined black shirt, and his heart beat against them, eager to leap into her hands.
She nipped his lower lip with her blunt teeth and then swiftly ducked out of his arms, muttering something about food.
He furled his wings and found her at the basket, tipping everything out onto the stone table. The contents scattered everywhere and he snatched a bottle as it rolled over the edge.
Liora frowned at it. “What’s that?”
“Not edible, I think. I hope.” He held the small white plastic bottle out to her. “It washes clothes… I think. My French is a little lacking, but the picture on the front made it look as though it will clean material things. True?”
He hoped she said yes.
She nodded. “Why did you want it?”
She had to be very hungry if her brain was no longer functioning. He had been there. It was not a pleasant experience or one he had any desire to relive.
“I intend to wash your clothes for you.”
Her smile was brilliant, as if he had just given her something as dazzling and precious as a diamond ring, and she tore open a packet of biscuits.
“Evil angels make the best boyfriends.”
Boyfriend?
Asmodeus dropped the plastic bottle, grabbed her and kissed her hard, tasting only creamy biscuit. It was good. He kissed her harder. She shoved him back and stuffed a biscuit in his mouth.
“Food first. Sex later.”
CHAPTER 13
Asmodeus choked on his biscuit.
Liora’s eyes turned wild and panicked and her hands fluttered in front of her, spilling biscuits on the black stone floor of his home. Remus was there in a shot, snaffling them and licking the crumbs up.
“Too forward?” Liora said and he shook his head and pounded his fist against his chest, coughing hard.
“Unexpected,” he wheezed and grabbed the nearest bottle. The glass was cool beneath his fingers. He twisted the metal cap off and swallowed a mouthful of the clear liquid. Fire. His throat burned and his stomach was on fire. He coughed worse than before and scowled at the bottle. “What in three realms is vodka?”
Liora grabbed it from him. “Alcohol.”
She screwed the lid back on and hid the bottle behind her.
“Another aphrodisiac? Does it contain caffeine like the coffee the female offered me in the market to seduce me?”
“No, it’ll just make you lose your inhibitions and get you really drunk, and probably sick if you haven’t had it before… what the hell did you say?”
His head felt funny so he laughed. “Woman… in the market… she offered me coffee… wanted me.”
Were his words slurring together?
The entire room turned, wavered, spun until his eyes couldn’t focus.
Liora slapped him again, righting the world and bringing her into vivid detail. She was not happy.
Because the female had attempted to seduce him?
“I did not drink it. I bared my…” He flashed his fangs at her as he had the woman. She did not look impressed. “She screamed… called security…”
Asmodeus grinned.
“Oh, mercy, what did you do?”
He waved away her horrified look, dismissing it. “Nothing bad. Just frightened them a little.” He pinched his fingers together to show her how little and grinned again. “Should’ve seen their faces. Then they ran. I thought… people… found angels… awful?”
“I think you mean people are awed by angels, not people find angels awful… although in your case, clearly what you said is more appropriate since you scared the ever living crap out of them!” She huffed and shook her head. “Aren’t there rules about public exposure?”
He laughed. “I didn’t flash that. I flashed these.”
He grinned at her, showing his fangs. She wobbled in his vision again. Either he needed another mouthful of the vodka or he needed to keep the hell away from it. He couldn’t decide which.
“No, I mean, revealing yourself to mortals.”
Asmodeus shook his head. “Not for me. No rules for me. Rules for the wretches under the yoke of Heaven and the fools under the yoke of Hell.”
She gave him a look that said she was dearly tempted to point out that technically he fell under the fools heading.
He reached around her for the vodka. She moved it away from him so he growled at her. The threat didn’t work. Asmodeus sighed and leaned his backside against the edge of the table.
Well, he leaned where he thought the edge of the table was, which was behind him even though he remembered it was actually beside him when his backside hit the floor with enough force to jar his spine.
“Fantastic. You’re a lousy drinker to get drunk on this tiny amount.” She held the bottle out in front of her and measured how much he had taken from it in that one mouthful and her eyes widened. His did too. Apparently, he had a big mouth. Nearly half the bottle was gone.
He laughed.
She scowled at him as she would a naughty child.
Asmodeus had a sudden urge to eat the cake he had bought for Liora. All of it.
He groped for the edge of the table, pulled himself onto his knees and scoured the scattered food for it. When he spotted it near Liora, he reached for it but she was there before him, snatching the box up against her chest.
“No, you don’t. Apollyon can put away a whole cake in one go and I’m not sitting here watching you do the same.”
Same. Apollyon.
Same.
Asmodeus erupted from the floor, growling at her and the way she had compared him to his twin, making out they were the same.
“Chocolate cake… witches… what else do I have a penchant for according to the wise Liora? Maybe I should be wanting to fuck your cousin, not you?”
Liora punched him. When his brain stopped rattling around his skull from the force of the blow, he was staring at the ceiling, flat on his back, his legs hanging awkwardly over his toppled throne.
That was a hell of a mean swing his little mortal had on her. Magically reinforced judging by the blood he could taste and how far she had sent him flying across the room.
She appeared in view above him and he tilted his head, trying to keep her straight in his vision.
“You shit.” She kicked him hard in the ribs and he groaned and curled up in a ball on his side.
He had said something wrong. Liora must have knocked a few brain cells loose with her punch because it took him a second to remember what had made her lash out.
He cringed.
Smooth. Very smooth.
“Liora, my sweet.” He reached for her and she slapped his hand away.
“Don’t sweet me. I take it back. You’re a shitty drunk.”
He didn’t think he was drunk anymore. She had punched him right through drunk to stone cold sober.
Asmodeus sprawled out on the floor, letting her glare at him, defeated by a girl.
“I swear I will never drink again,” he muttered, staring at the ceiling, watching it lazily spin. Not sober after all.
“Tell me why you said it.”
It took a lot of effort to get his eyes to move to her without the contents of his stomach attempting to crawl back up his throat.
“Shadow.” The moment it left his lips, her shoulders sagged and a defeated look crossed her face.
“You are not a shadow of Apollyon.” She kneeled beside him and brushed his black hair from his brow, and he closed his eyes, amazed by how soothing her touch was and how it calmed his raging head and tumultuous stomach. “Have I not told you that?”
He nodded.
“Just because you’re both pigs, and I mentioned that, doesn’t mean I think you’re like him. I have it on good authority that all angels are pigs.”
He opened his eyes and she smiled at him.
“You look like hell.” Her smile turned a little bit awkward and guilty. “I think I might have lost my temper a little and my magic tends to control me then…”
She touched his chin and white-hot fire burned along his jaw. She flinched for him, as if she had sensed it, and then the pain dulled, fading away, and he knew she was healing him.
He wanted to heal her too.
He had hurt her.
“I did not mean it,” he whispered, barely moving his lips, afraid that she might fuse together the wrong parts if he moved while she was healing him. She looked at him, a flicker of confusion breaking through the concern in her bright hazel eyes. He spelled it out for her. “I do not desire to have sex with your cousin.”
Her lips trembled.
Either she was about to cry or she was trying hard not to smile.
“What about the woman in the supermarket who was trying to seduce you?” She managed to stifle her smile and scowled at him.
“I refused her advances.”
“Was she offering this wicked cocktail of coffee in a small, possibly paper cup, while wearing a big stupid fake smile?” Liora said and stroked his jaw. He nodded. She smiled now and it was not reassuring. It was teasing and had a faint mocking edge to it. “It was a sample. Supermarkets sometimes offer samples of items they want to sell lots of. The French love coffee almost as much as the Italians do. She wasn’t trying to seduce you.”
He held back his own smile, knowing she was likely to hit or kick him again if she saw it. “She was persistent, and now I think back, her smile was… flirtatious.”
Liora ground her teeth. “Keep it up and you will have bruised balls and you’ll be taking me back to the mortal world so I can do some terrorizing of my own.”
Asmodeus caught her wrist, pulled her down to him and kissed her. He expected her to pull away and slap him again, either physically or verbally, but she melted into him, settling her breasts against his chest and curling up beside him.
“Forgiven?” he whispered against her lips and peppered them with kisses.
She scrunched her nose up, wriggled her lips and then smiled. “It depends. Are you sober?”
Asmodeus did a mental body check. “I don’t know. It is hard to tell through the throbbing in my head. It may be the result of the alcohol or my girlfriend’s wrath.”
She smiled properly at last. “You called me your girlfriend.”
“So? You called me your boyfriend first.”
“I did?”
He nodded. “You said evil angels made the best boyfriends… and then you said we could have sex later.”
“And then you wrecked your chances by getting drunk and being a shit.”
He frowned at her, tried to prepare a defence to counter her accusation, and failed. “No sex?”
“You are still drunk.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “If you weren’t drunk, you wouldn’t be so forward about this or so relaxed.”
“I would not?” He edged his hands down to the small of her back, inching towards her bottom.
She shook her head. “Nope. Not a chance, Buster. You blew it.”
“You blew me.” He grinned.
“Mother Earth! See, this is why I know you’re drunk. You’re vulgar and crass. Like every other male in the world.”
Asmodeus scowled. “Not like every man.”
She didn’t agree with him. She walked her fingers across his chest and then pressed her palms against it and pushed. She was getting up. Asmodeus tightened his grip, pinning her against him.
“Stay.” He held her even when she wriggled and frowned. “Stay, sweet little Liora.”
“It’s not very comfortable.” A reasonable rejoinder.
“Then I will take you somewhere more comfortable and we can lie together.”
She didn’t look as though she was going to go along with that one. “I’m still hungry. Someone got drunk and raucous, and got himself into trouble with his woman, and that woman is still hungry.”
Asmodeus relented and loosened his grip on her. She wriggled out of his arms, the action brushing her breasts across his chest in the most tormenting way.
Remus whined and gave him a sympathetic look. Asmodeus spoke to him in the demon tongue, wishing him better fortune when he found a female of his own. They were complicated, temperamental creatures.
He hauled himself onto his feet, straightened his wings and tore his wrecked shirt off. Liora glanced at him and then her eyes drifted back to him, lingering on his bare chest. Not that complicated at times. His female liked his body and the way she was staring told him that she would reconsider her refusal of his advances if he remained this way for long enough.
He was feeling like a spoilsport today though.
He called another item of clothing to him, a shirt he had altered, focusing so it fitted perfectly over his wings. He considered buttoning it but liked the way Liora’s gaze kept zipping to the slice of bare chest and stomach she could see between the two open sides of the black shirt.
She bit into an apple in a way that left him feeling she wanted to take a bite out of him.
He moved to the table, sat on it, crossed his legs, and picked up a small black sketchbook he had acquired in the supermarket. He took up a pencil stub and studied Liora as she picked through the food, sketching her in a moment when she tucked her long chestnut hair behind her ear and her lips parted, her gaze cast down at something on the table. Beautiful. His fingers made swift work of capturing her and by the time she had selected her next item of food, he had finished the sketch.
; She looked over at him, frowned and tiptoed, attempting to peer at the drawing. He held it against his chest.
“Private,” he said and peeked at it, teasing her.
She sidled closer, rolling another apple along the table beside her, and her dire attempt to look casual and uninterested brought a smile to his lips. She was a terrible actor.
Liora lunged for the small book with her free hand but he saw the attempt coming before it had even formed as an idea in her head. He beat his wings and shot backwards, far beyond her reach, and landed in the corner of the room.
He leisurely perused the drawing, going so far as to hold it out before him, comparing it to her.
She planted her hands on her hips and glared daggers at him.
“I will let you see it,” he said and she brightened. “If you pay me.”
“Pay you how?” Her glare turned suspicious but darkened with unmistakable desire at the same time. Wicked girl. He wasn’t asking her to offer that much in return for the drawing.
“A kiss.” He held it out to her.
“That all?”
“Feel free to bargain for a higher price.” He waggled the book. “If you want to pay more, I could be convinced.”
“A kiss it is.” She crossed the room to him and he held the book above his head, not convinced that she wouldn’t try to steal it and leave him down a kiss.
She sighed, grabbed the collar of his shirt in both hands, dragged him down and captured his mouth with her own. It was more than a kiss. The way her lips danced against his and her tongue teased, flicking over and swiping at his lower lip, luring him into wanting to taste her in a similar fashion, intoxicated him more than the vodka had. He groaned and closed his eyes and claimed her mouth, kissing her harder and eliciting a moan from her that burned through him, making him forget what they were doing. The only thing that mattered was this kiss.
He wrapped his arms around her and she was gone, twirled from his embrace, her high giggle ringing around him.
Asmodeus huffed.
Tricked.
“Witch,” he muttered and she mimicked him, waggling the book as she danced back across the room to her food stash.
She opened the book and her laughter died, her actions ceasing. She stared down at the drawing with a blank expression on her face and his heart beat hard against his chest, uncertainty creeping through his veins and taking hold of him, leaving him with a head full of doubts. Did she not like it?
Her Wicked Angel Page 17