by V L Moon
“Stop thinking; just feel. Feel me Ari, feel how hard I am for you.” Rhys’ breath scorched over the flesh of his throat. His tongue teased lower to entice the budded peaks of Arial’s nipple into his mouth. Rhys bit down. Hard, drawing an illicit low groan from Arial as the demon began to suckle on the warmth of his blood.
Revulsion tore through Arial as awareness of his curse broke through the haze of sexual lust. Breaking away from Rhys, he scuttled back until the mounts of his wings hit the dry stone wall. Pain shot through his body and churned Arial’s gut. He was going to throw up. Pushing himself up, Arial steadied himself against the wall and met the look of shock on Rhys’ enraged face.
“What the fuck did the Creator do to you?” Arial’s blood stained Rhys’ mouth. The demon didn’t spit, but Arial expected him to at any moment. Shame and anger boiled to the surface. Getting in Rhys’ face wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but Arial was done with being ashamed. He couldn’t help what had been done to him; all he could do was live with it. Or take Rhys’ life. His mother had hedged her bets well when doling out his curse. The fucking bitch knew he’d never be able to kill Rhys, but there was no way in hell he’d take his shit either.
“I’ll say it once, so listen the fuck up. Stay the hell out of my life. What I am, what’s been done to me is of no concern to you. Not anymore. If you value your life, and knowing how much you love to fuck, I’m betting you do, you’ll do us both a favor and stay down in Hell where you belong. Think of it this way Ry. You’ll never go short of a good hot fuck, it just won’t be my ass you’re pounding.”
Anger and pain tainted his words. He knew Rhys well enough to know the demon sensed the hurt in his words. But, Rhys couldn’t be with him without Arial wanting to feed. Just the thought of a taste from the well of evil lurking inside Rhys’ soul had Arial licking his lips. Turning away, Arial gave Rhys his back and retraced his footsteps to Clariel’s room. When the heavy aroma of fire and ash permeated the hall, Arial knew Rhys was gone. His shoulders slumped. With his head hanging low to hide the threat of unshed tears, he entered the Nephilim’s quarters to check on Celix before trying to get some rest.
“Thank you for bringing him to me.” Even Clariel’s wide eyed innocence offered little peace. The wingless Nephilim stroked down along the golden mane of Celix’s hair and offered a sorrowful smile to Arial. “I wish I had my wings, too. Maybe then, I’d be good enough for him,” Clariel whispered and then bent low to kiss Celix’s cheek.
“He loves you, regardless, and probably always has. It doesn’t matter to him; all that matters is that you’re with him. That should be enough,” Arial replied, knowing his words sounded a little too harsh. A single tear slipped from Clariel’s eye and dripped onto Celix’s lips.
“Then, it shouldn’t matter for you either. You had something with him? The doctor demon?” Clariel asked.
Arial sat upon the small wooden chair and buried his face in his hands. “It was a long fucking time ago. Things change. I’ve changed. I’m not the same Arial the doc used to know.” He shrugged weary shoulders. “Get some rest, no doubt he’s going to sleep through, but he’ll be sore and stiff tomorrow. You’ll need all of your strength to look after him.” Arial cast a glance to where Celix was sleeping and for a moment felt a pang of regret. The more Nephilim he met, the more clearly it seemed they needed someone real to lead them. He needed to talk to Malachi, see what they could do. Tomorrow. He’d see Mal tomorrow. God, he was tired. Raking his hands back through his hair, Arial pushed away the thoughts of Rhys’ hands gripping at him and pulling him in close. He swallowed back the pain and stood up from the chair. As tired as he was, he couldn’t sleep in Clariel’s room. The two of them deserved privacy.
“Don’t leave us.” Celix’s words sliced through his heart. Christ. What was the kid asking? Arial looked up, and his breath hitched in his throat at the sight of Celix’s eyes trained on him and Clariel’s outstretched hand.
Clariel slipped down into the bed and inched his body closer to Celix before reaching behind him to pat the bed. “It’s been a long night, please come and rest.”
The words were a balm to Arial’s heart, giving him hope where he’d had none. He hesitated and they waited expectantly. In the end, he didn’t have the strength to fight them. After his bout with Rhys, he needed the physical closeness. Pushing off his boots, Arial stretched out along the space at Clariel’s back. Celix shuddered briefly and nuzzled his face into Clariel’s neck before settling back down. Arial stared at the ceiling waiting for sleep and listening to the sounds of the two Nephilim snuggled up beside him.
The warmth of one hand landing on his hip was quickly followed by another. They tugged at Arial until he was nestled in against Clariel. He coiled his much larger body around the small male’s back. Arial’s heart leaped. They accepted him; no questions asked, treated him as one of their own and looked up to him for protection. And, protect them he would. Lying there, curled against the warmth of another male’s back, hands resting against the others’ bare flesh, Arial believed he’d finally found a place where he belonged.
~*~*~*~
When he took form in Hell, Rhys knew he was lost. The demon in him clawed his way to the surface. Rhys shifted, stretched and purred, pulled from the depths of his demonic soul by the hypnotic allure of a celestial’s essence. Lust crawled over his skin like an army of ants. Seeing Arial, kissing him, feeling that hard familiar body pressed tightly against him. Rhys groaned. Fire burned through his veins, scorching him from the inside out.
“Arial.” The guttural plea was all he could manage. Arial’s rejection did little to curb the tidal wave of carnal need. Between his thighs, his cock filled and lengthened. The veins thickened to the point he felt the ridges rubbing against his clothing. His swollen balls swung like boulders with the slightest movement. He moaned and closed his eyes at the memory of the horror in Arial’s gaze. What had happened to his male? When he was taken by his father, he’d vowed to return. But, he hadn’t. All of the time since that night, wasted. Why had he listened to the reports? His heart—fuck—his soul had screamed at him that Arial lived.
Dazed and off balance, he rose to his feet. He took an unsteady step toward The Locker. It was a room he kept for just this purpose. Charmed, spelled and warded with every protection known to him, Rhys locked himself inside the room until the ferocious need retreated. He would never rampage again. He refused to be the soulless male his father preferred him to be.
Rhys swallowed the nausea that rose in his throat. He had to go before the demon took over completely. Once free, Rhys would fornicate and fuck until exhaustion dropped him wherever he happened to be at the time. No one escaped his attention. Male, female, human, angel, demon—it didn’t matter, nor would it matter if they were willing or not. Arial had always had that effect on him. Total intoxication.
Rhys groaned and lurched down the hall. He ripped open his jeans to give his painfully throbbing cock a bit of relief. His knees buckled when his fingers wrapped around the diamond hard shaft and pumped. He crashed to the floor still stroking furiously. Arial’s face floated on the back of his eyelids. A roar equal to a volcanic eruption shook the walls when his release shot from the head of his cock and spilled over his hand. His breath came in gasps. The demon bucked at the edges of his mind, demanding his freedom. Already, his cock was hard and throbbing again despite the orgasm.
“Well hello, son. Nice of you to come home for a visit.” The nails on chalkboard voice should have deflated him, but his demon nature was too close to the surface and it responded to its master. Bile rose in Bastian’s throat. He hated the male standing in his home. Lucifer, Satan, all around bastard, it didn’t matter what he was called, the fucker was evil incarnate. He was also Bastian’s father and the Demon Lord.
He prowled across the room, his molten eyes locked on the enormous erection protruding from Bastian’s hips. Disgusted and ashamed, Rhys scrambled backward on his knees. “You fucking lied to me.” He roared, hop
ing to distract the master of all evil. Lucifer laughed, came down on all fours and crawled toward him.
“You found the Fallen did you? I smell him on you. It adds to the fuck me pheromones you’re spitting out,” he purred, edging closer. “You should have brought him back so we could share him.”
“No!” Bastian roared. “If you ever touch him, I will find a way to kill you.”
Lucifer smirked. “I own your soul, Rhys. You bartered it for him, remember.”
“Another fucking lie. You said he returned to Heaven. He’s a fucking Fallen; his worst fear come to life,” Rhys spat.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to make a deal with a demon? They are tricky bastards. You said spare him, and I did. He lives and breathes. You never specified he should remain untainted,” Lucifer qualified.
“You fucking knew what I meant,” Rhys replied bitterly. His back hit the wall. Trapped. Panic clawed at his internal organs when Lucifer licked his lips and prowled forward. “Please God. Don’t do this again.”
Lucifer’s eyes flared. “You call on Him to help you? Don’t you know he cannot hear you? You are my son. Mine to do with as I please.”
Rhys shook his head in denial. He didn’t want what was coming next. He cursed his stupidity. He knew better than to enter Hell when he was so aroused. There was no way to hide the demon side of himself from Lucifer, and, no way to protect himself from his father’s unwanted advances. But, in the grand scheme, the humiliation at his father’s hands was easier to bear than the disgust in Arial’s eyes.
The cinder wall failed to give and blocked his retreat. He watched mortified and unable to move as his own father drew closer with an unholy lust in his eyes. Greedy fingers landed on his thighs. Desperately, he tried to port. Lucifer laughed deep in his throat. Rhys’ jeans disappeared completely. Naked and defeated, Rhys pressed back into the wall, ignoring the pain brought on by the scalding brick. No wonder Arial was disgusted by him. The angel deserved purity. Rhys was foul.
“I think Rhys has missed me. Look how pretty he’s standing up for my attention.” Rhys closed his eyes and retreated inside his mind. There was no stopping what was about to happen. All he could do was endure. The demon’s howl of triumph echoed around the room. Rhys dove toward oblivion, but wasn’t fast enough to escape the sensation of a wet, hot mouth clamping around his straining flesh.
~*~*~*~
Chapter Forty-Five
~*~*~*~
Warm breath tickled his neck, rousing Laziel from the darkest depths of a restless sleep. In his dreams, Lachi held him close, their heated bodies slick with sweat. Lachi whispered his name over and over, pleading with Laziel between soft, delicate kisses that left him hopelessly enthralled and needy for more.
“Love you. Need you. Lachi. My Lachi.” The dream turned and Laziel cried out as Lachi’s beautiful smile morphed into a menacing snarl. Fangs snapped shut around Laziel’s throat and tore through the vein that gave Lachi life. As his vampire fed, Laziel felt himself falling from grace and into the pits of a hellish domain. He reached out for Lachi, imploring his male to take his hand, but in the dream, Lachi turned away. As Laziel fell, the Earth and all of its glory rushed up to greet him.
The low mournful howls of wolves along with the rich, earthy scent of the woods enveloped his senses, easing Laziel’s fractured mind. Soft fur and the brush of wings stroked his face and then vanished as though they were never truly there. All he saw as he resumed his fall was the last dying embers of his celestial bond growing dimmer and colder until every thread that once tied him to Heaven turned brittle and crumbled into dust.
“No!” Laziel cried out, his arms thrashing beside him as he imagined himself flying, soaring amid the firestorms of Hell. At his back, flames licked along the edges of his wings. Visions of Arial falling from grace filled Laziel with untold fear. Screaming out in pain, Laziel bolted upright in the middle of the bed. The damp sweaty sheets gripped in his fists shook with the force of his terror. Eyes wide with untold fear searched the room.
“Shhh, its ok. You’re ok. It was just a dream, angel. Laz, look at me, I’m right here,” Lachi coaxed.
“Azarian,” Laziel whispered. The bed dipped behind him and warm, tentative hands brushed along his back. Gently, Lachi eased him back, turning him slightly, so he rested like a child against the width of Lachi’s chest. A sigh of relief slipped from his lips as he curled himself in around Lachi. The vampire brushed the hair away from his face.
“I didn’t think you’d ever wake up. I was starting to worry I’d lost you for good. Christ, angel, it’s been three days. Fuck. Did I take too much? Did I hurt you so badly that you’d rather not have come back at all?” The concern in Lachi’s voice was tinged with fear. Laziel frowned in confusion and straightened so he was kneeling between Lachi’s thighs.
“Three days? I’ve been out for three days? Hell’s bells, Lachi why didn’t you wake me? Where is she? Where’s Destahny?” Laziel searched the room and fixed his sights upon the small sleeping form of their beautiful child.
“She’s perfectly safe. She must take after you with the amount of time she sleeps.” The pride in Lachi’s eyes reflected in his words. “I’ve been trying to wake you for two days. I even tried to get the doc to check in on you. Poor motherfucker looked like shit when he got here, took one look at you and went as white as a sheet. Not a good look for a demon. I thought I was going to have two comatose males on my hands for a minute there.” Lachi offered.
“I don’t know what his deal is, but he sure as shit looked scared. He left straight away; said he had urgent business to attend to.” Lachi shrugged, but his eyes danced around the room, landing anywhere other than Laziel.
Awkward tension stretched between them. So many things needed to be said. Everything that happened between them felt so raw Laziel didn’t know where to start. He felt like the proverbial human teenager going through the first pangs of love. The centuries they’d shared seemed immaterial compared to how he presently felt. It was almost like they’d been given a clean sheet to start the next part of their lives together. He just wasn’t really sure how the story was to start, or if Lachi was on the same page. He needed to know. He was done with excuses.
Swallowing his pride, Laziel narrowed his gaze. He wouldn’t force Lachi to look at him, the choice belonged to Lachi. But, he would demand an answer. The strength in his voice belied the real fear that Lachi still might reject him. “I don’t want to pick up where we left off. I know you’re scared Azarian. I am too. We need some time to talk, work through everything that’s happened between us of late. Being without you—I would rather die than go there again.”
“The choice to stay away was yours, not mine. I’d have protected you and kept you safe, but you failed to give me the chance.” Lachi cut in. His bitter reply was an obvious reflection of his own inner turmoil.
“Take what time you need to heal and get some rest. Let me know when you’re ready to talk. You should know, the Elders have formally requested a Council meeting. I dare say it’s due to them sensing Destahny and hearing her cries.” Lachi glanced toward the crib where their daughter lay asleep.
“They will demand answers, and I intend to give them. Whether they like what I have to say or not, there’s no telling. I’m done with the whole charade. If they refuse to comply with my commands, they can ally themselves with Darklon, and I’ll happily kill them all.” Malachi eased him back onto the mattress and stood.
“Rest, angel. Saul will be outside should you need anything.” Lachi’s cold demeanor saddened Laziel. They’d come so far together, yet in some ways, they hadn’t changed at all.
“I’ve had more than enough rest,” Laziel countered. “If my memory is correct, I was and still am your personal guard. I may have been absent from my duties for a time, but I’m here now. If those dried up mother fuckers want a piece of you—same rule as always, they have to get through me.” He sat up on the bed.
“Now, pass me those flip flops and give m
e five minutes to wash my dangly bits.” Laz didn’t look back, didn’t need to. He felt Lachi’s eyes boring into his back as the elephant in the room hung between them.
“If you’re ready to bring this game to an end, I suggest you get Miss Stroner to watch over Destahny and put four of our best guards on each of the doors. Get Saul in here with her, and maybe call Arial too.” Laziel issued orders while he quickly braided his hair; the brittle strands seemed lackluster in his hands.
After a quick wash and rinse under the showers hot spray, he refused to look at his reflection. He didn’t want to admit to the fear he knew he’d see in his own eyes. Lachi said he loved him that was all Laziel needed. He’d do this, fight for the male he so adamantly loved, even if it meant taking the rough with the smooth. Lachi was his.
Barefoot and dressed for the occasion, Laziel stepped back into the bedroom. Droplets of water still shimmered on his bare chest, and the waist of his jeans rode low and loose on his hips, barely covering the bulge that lay beneath and leaving little to the imagination. Yeah, he had balls of steel, and if any of those crumbling old coots stepped one inch out of line, Laziel was going to show them exactly how potent his rage really was.
~*~*~*~
Laziel’s confusion and anxiety was a living, breathing entity between them. When Laziel stepped out of the bathroom, Malachi sucked in a harsh breath. He closed the gap between them in four swift strides to claim Laziel’s mouth in a possessive and dominant kiss. It took every bit of self-control he possessed to lift his head and back away. He growled while the savagery paced just beneath his skin.
“I’ve promised you time and to wait until you are ready, angel. But, I only have so much control over the monster you created.” Laziel’s nostrils flared. A glimmer of remembered desire sparkled in his eyes. Malachi fanned the flame. “If you expect me to keep my word and to keep my hands to myself, you cannot parade around here the same as you always have. You are too much of a temptation.”