Her Angel: Eternal Warriors Complete Series Box Set

by Heaton, Felicity

  Her other hand skimmed downwards, ready to join in the fun now that she had him close to the edge, skirting ecstasy.

  She cupped his sac and rolled it gently in her fingers, and he bucked forwards, a harsh moan leaving his lips. That moan turned fierce and guttural when she gave his balls a gentle squeeze and tug, and he thrust through her fingers, rocking his cock into her mouth. His right hand moved to her head, guiding her on him, controlling her movements.

  Liora alternated between sucking him and swirling her tongue around the crown, driving him wild, until he had his fingers tangled in her hair and was grunting with each thrust into her mouth and each squeeze of his sac.

  He uttered something in the demon tongue and she hoped it was complimentary.

  His thrusts hardened, his breathing quickened and his balls tightened. Liora sucked him harder and moved her hand quicker on his flesh, stroking it as he had shown her he liked it, combining it with her hot wet mouth to propel him firmly over the edge.

  He growled what might have been her name, every inch of him went as taut as a bowstring, and she looked up the length of him, wanting to see his first climax with her as it claimed him body and soul.

  He tossed his head back and roared in a vicious yet sexy way as he shot his hot seed into her mouth and she swallowed around him. His fangs extended, his claws pressed into her skin, and his wings erupted from his back.

  Delicious.

  She sucked him softly, drawing out his climax, feeling him throb and jerk, continuing to spill himself in short bursts. He breathed hard, body straining and muscles covered in a fine sheen. Liora released him and ran her hands over his trembling hips.

  His eyes slowly opened and dropped to her, blazing red and filled with an explosive combination of satisfaction and need, hunger for more.

  She liked that look in them. The one that left her feeling that he would never get enough of her. The one that backed up his earlier words.

  Because you are mine.

  She believed in equality, and if she were a little braver, she might have voiced the words that echoed in her heart. Because you are mine.

  His gaze narrowed on hers and he captured her jaw with his right hand, lifted her chin, leaned down and kissed her. It was soft and sweet, tender, and it melted her inside. She savoured it and this side of him, the one that he showed only to her.

  He broke the kiss, stood and pulled her up onto her feet, wrapping his wings around her. Shielding her from any prying eyes.

  He didn’t want anyone else to see her like this. She didn’t want any demon bitches getting a good look at her man all naked and sated either.

  Liora snapped her fingers, using a fraction of her returning power to get his damp loincloth back in place. He raised an eyebrow at her, his red eyes silently questioning her.

  She found her voice.

  “Because you are mine.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Mine.

  Asmodeus sat on his throne, dressed in his armour again, watching Liora drying her beautiful chestnut hair using the fire he had built for her as she sat on the rug between the fireplace and the table. Romulus lay beside him on the floor, curled up. Remus had chosen to settle close to Liora and was sleeping on his side, a contented air around him. The hellhound had blocked Asmodeus’s way to Liora when she had sat by the fire, stealing her from him, demanding her attention. She had petted the foolish irritating creature for twenty minutes straight before he had fallen asleep.

  Liora ran her fingers through the unruly strands of her hair, her head tilted towards the flames, her body wrapped in the finest black silk robe he had been able to materialise for her to wear.

  His female deserved the finest things.

  “What are you thinking while you stare at me like that?” She opened her hazel eyes and locked them on him, a playful smile tugging at her rosy lips.

  Lips he had kissed and tasted at his leisure. She allowed him to sample them whenever he desired. Because she was his now.

  Her words drifted around his head, bringing out his smile, making him feel strangely light inside. Warm.

  She viewed him as hers too.

  She had placed a claim on him.

  She had allowed him to do intimate things with her, and he wanted more. He couldn’t stop thinking about every lick, kiss and caress that had happened at the bathing pool.

  “I am thinking wicked things,” he murmured in a low voice and ran his eyes over her, taking in every inch, recalling how she had looked when she had stood before him in the water, her body partially bared for his gaze and his touch.

  She smiled. “Very wicked things?”

  “The wickedest.” He ground his teeth as his loincloth pinched, too tight against his straining length. He wanted her again and wanted more this time. He wanted to claim her fully and sheathe himself in her hot body, taking her as his fingers had.

  The feel of her quivering around him, her juices flowing hot and fast, and the sound of her cries of pleasure ringing around the hills, had driven him mad with a need to take her. He had wanted to part her milky thighs and thrust to the hilt, ripping another cry of bliss from her sweet lips.

  “Very wicked indeed, judging by how dark your eyes have gone.” Her smile teased him, her hazel eyes twinkling with it. She liked that he couldn’t hide his desire from her or how fiercely he wanted her at all times.

  Asmodeus leaned back in his throne and watched her dry her hair. Her eyes remained on him, pupils growing larger, desire affecting them just as it had affected his.

  “You think wicked things too,” he said with a smile.

  “The wickedest,” she parroted and then tilted her head the other way and let her hands fall into her lap. “I like it when you smile like that.”

  “Many do not like it when I smile.” He turned his gaze away from her, disliking the abrupt change that came over him, washing away the warmth and leaving cold behind.

  “It’s not the same smile.” Her voice softened, soothing him and battling the rising tide of darkness in his veins.

  “It is born of the same lips belonging to the same male.” He silently cursed her for ruining the moment, or had he been the one to do it? She had only mentioned that she liked the smile he had given her. In truth, it was not the same smile that he wore when carrying out the Devil’s orders, enjoying bloodying his hands and hearing the tormented screams of his prey.

  He wasn’t sure he could take any joy from that sort of act now that the softer emotions he had long denied had gained ground within him, pushing back the darkness and beginning to form a sort of balance with it.

  “It’s not the same smile,” she said in a firmer tone and he looked at her, seeing the belief in her eyes.

  He didn’t want to argue with her. He had been enjoying their time together.

  Asmodeus searched for a different topic of conversation. His gaze fell on the pendant she wore, a silver pentagram, intricate in design.

  “It is very beautiful.” He lifted his eyes to hers and they turned cold before she cast them down at her knees.

  “It was my mother’s.” A sore subject judging by how frosty she had become. Was he destined to ruin their time together?

  He decided to leave that topic alone and search for another one. If she wanted to tell him why speaking of her mother upset her, then she would in her own time. He wouldn’t force it from her.

  Asmodeus paused.

  Just how much had she changed him already?

  In the past, he would have demanded an answer, not giving the person a choice, forcing it out of them if that was what it took. She was softening him. Weakening him.

  Good was a weakness. A sin. A fault.

  A death sentence.

  “Asmodeus?” she whispered and he focused on her, frowning at the trace of fear in her eyes. “You went cold again… I don’t like it when you look at me like that.”

  He shook his head, hoping to shake away his black thoughts with it, and then dragged his right hand down his face an
d sighed.

  “Was the Devil calling to you?” she said in a voice so small that he barely caught her words over the crackle of the fire and Remus’s snoring.

  Another shake of his head. “No. I… it was nothing.”

  She frowned. “Let me guess… it was something and it was along the lines of… you like being with me… you like who you are when you’re around me… and then you remembered where you were, and who you’re supposed to be, and you went off on that whole…” She cleared her throat and deepened it, and he surmised she was attempting to sound like him. “Good and bad are a mortal concept. In Hell, bad is good. Good is a weakness.”

  Asmodeus huffed and looked away from her.

  “Good is not a weakness, Asmodeus. You don’t have to be who everyone expects you to be. You can be whoever you want to be.”

  Part of him wished that were true. The good part.

  “You do not know this realm, Liora. Do not act as if you do. Do not pretend you understand it and how I feel. Perhaps I am not acting as expected of me. Perhaps this is who I am and who I want to be.”

  His sensitive hearing picked up on her stomach growling. A perfect excuse to get some air.

  He stood, the force of his swift action causing his throne to move backwards, scraping across the floor. Romulus and Remus shot to their paws.

  He cast a portal beside him and didn’t give her a chance to say a word before he stepped through it, coming out in the middle of Paris near the alley where he had first tasted food.

  It was dark again. Did that mean the place where she had purchased food for him would be closed? He knew that mortal shops had hours in which they were open and ones in which they were closed.

  He focused to put his wings away, feeling them shrink into his back, and then cast a mental command to bring him mortal clothing from his fortress. He had a small collection of clothing that fit him and suited him too. He liked to think so anyway. He replaced his loincloth and hip armour with black jeans, his boots and greaves with heavy biker boots, and donned a black shirt. He buttoned it and rolled up the sleeves until they were tight around his forearms.

  Asmodeus raked his fingers through his black hair, tousling the longer strands, and then stalked out into the main avenue in search of food for his female.

  Mortals scurried before him, fewer in number than there had been at the tower and far less irritating. Some females glanced his way and glanced again, lingering the second time. He glared at them, displeased by how they stared. He was not theirs to gaze upon. He belonged to Liora.

  He flashed fangs, scaring them off, and began his hunt.

  It was not fruitful at first. No store selling edible goods was open along the long stretch of tree-lined buildings. He walked the length of the avenue until he came to a pointed column and a large square, with an illuminated glass pyramid in the distance.

  Asmodeus sniffed, trying to detect the scent of food. Two male mortals passing him carried plastic bags laden with boxes and bottles. Liquids came in bottles. He could ask for directions.

  He stiffened at that thought.

  He did not need mortals to show him how to find the place that was open and selling goods. He could find it himself. It couldn’t be far. Possibly around the corner. Yes. Around the corner. He would look there.

  He turned left, sniffing and trying to follow the trail of the two males. It led him into a narrower street and then ended. Asmodeus huffed and frowned, scouring the buildings and glowing signs for an establishment that might offer food.

  Liora needed food.

  He had sworn to provide for her and take care of her every need.

  He would not fail her.

  “What are you doing here, Asmodeus?”

  He refused to turn and face the owner of that voice. Now that he had rested, he was strong enough to fight him. The male was no longer a threat to him.

  If Apollyon dared to attempt to fight him, he would prove the male’s earlier words wrong. He would destroy him.

  Asmodeus settled on a direction and casually walked in it, heading deeper into the side street, using all of his keen senses to guide him. The smell of the males returned. It was spicy and strange. Unnatural. Did the males wear some sort of fragrance? Did females find that attractive?

  Apollyon stalked behind him, an unwelcome shadow, earning them glances from more females. Did they look like twins to them? Asmodeus despised that thought.

  He flashed his fangs again, snarling this time, ensuring they would look at him no more.

  “Asmodeus.” Apollyon’s tone held a note of warning. “I will not ask you again.”

  Asmodeus would not ask for directions, not from this male, not even for Liora’s sake.

  She was hungry though.

  If he returned empty-handed, she would weaken. She would want to leave his castle and return to this world. He did not want to fail her.

  “I am hunting,” he said, finding it a reasonable thing to say. It was neither asking for directions nor not asking for them.

  Apollyon grabbed his shoulder, spun him around and slammed him against a pale stone building so hard it cracked under the force of his impact. Asmodeus growled and bared his fangs, snatched his irritating twin’s wrist and twisted it viciously, causing him to drop to his knees. Apollyon rolled, breaking free of his grasp, and came to his feet.

  “I will not allow you to harm these mortals,” Apollyon growled, his blue eyes flashing dangerously and his power rising, swamping Asmodeus.

  Asmodeus unleashed a fraction of his power, combating Apollyon’s, driving it back and showing him that he was stronger now, able to fight him. If they fought in this world, in the open, they would cause mortal casualties.

  Asmodeus hesitated. Liora would not be pleased if she learned he had fought his twin and had harmed mortals without feeling any remorse.

  But he did feel it.

  And it shocked him.

  He stepped back, glaring at Apollyon, and swallowed hard. What was she doing to him? She had unleashed one emotion in him after another, bringing them all out, tempering his darker ones with light, creating balance within him.

  Weakness.

  He clenched his fists and shoved past Apollyon, his mood darkening and Liora’s words ringing in his mind. Good was not a weakness. Liora was strong. Was it the good in her that made her that way?

  She had been brave around him, had shown him compassion and tenderness, and affection too. She had taken care of his wounds and bathed him, all with warmth in her eyes and in her touch. Her desire to do good had given her the strength to weather his snarls and his fury over being defeated so easily, and had given her the courage to reveal herself to him, letting him see that she cared for him and would tend to him whether he wanted her to or not.

  “I warn you, Asmodeus. Lay a hand on these mortals and I will end you.”

  Asmodeus lifted his right hand above his shoulder and flipped Apollyon off. “I am not here to hunt mortals.”

  He felt his twin’s confusion, a sickening side effect of sharing his blood.

  “What is it you hunt then?”

  “Sustenance.” He continued onwards, studying every mortal that passed him, picking out any who carried a bag.

  Many of them did not contain food.

  He huffed again, growing impatient and bored of this hunt. He would not ask Apollyon though. He would sooner die than give the angel the satisfaction of having yet another thing he could do better than Asmodeus.

  “You are hungry again?”

  Asmodeus closed his eyes and asked the Devil to give him strength so he wouldn’t kill his twin just to make him shut up. The mission was what mattered. Liora would be happy if he found her food and returned with it to her. They could feed each other again and he could try new items. Perhaps savoury things that he had witnessed mortals eating while watching the pool on the plateau.

  Perhaps caffeine.

  He smiled to himself and was tempted to ask his shadow whether Liora had been telling the tru
th and caffeine was indeed a stimulant of that nature.

  His shadow chose that moment to grow even more irritating. “Where is Liora?”

  “Safe.” It was all the wretched annoying male needed to know.

  “With you?” Apollyon laughed. “I hardly think she is safe.”

  Asmodeus growled at him over his shoulder and frowned. Apollyon meant business. He had changed into his gold-edged black armour and had his curved golden blades sheathed at his waist.

  “I have no interest in fighting you. I am on a deadline.” A self-imposed one, but a deadline nonetheless. A female walking towards him had a bag similar to the one the two males had carried. He glanced into it as she passed. Food items. Notably things in a clear bag similar to what Apollyon had thrown in his face. He was close.

  He sniffed to catch her scent and kept walking, following the rather pungent trail.

  “Because you are hungry? That means you are hiding somewhere in the mortal world. I have not sensed you in Paris since over a day ago. You hide her somewhere else.”

  “She is not hidden and I am not hungry.” Irritating angel. Asmodeus frowned. He supposed she was hidden in a way, but not from Apollyon and Serenity. He was hiding her from the Devil.

  Apollyon grabbed him again, took his leg out and sent him crashing to the ground with him on top. His twin pinned him, using all of his weight and his power to keep him on the pavement. Asmodeus glared at him.

  “She is in Hell?” The wild look in the death angel’s eyes warned Asmodeus that Apollyon would beat the answer out of him if he dared to ignore the question.

  “She is safe there… and hungry… and that is the only reason I am not ripping your throat out with my fangs, Brother.”

  “I warned you never to call me that.” Apollyon grasped his throat and Asmodeus snapped, the memory of having his windpipe crushed by the Devil’s shoe sending fury burning through his blood.