by Regine Abel
As if in slow motion, I watched him hold the sword tip down like a stake, and plunge it down into Kwazeem’s hump before ripping it open. My scream of horror mingled with my mate’s roar of agony. Kwazeem threw his head back, and stared at the heavens, mouth gaping before his eyes rolled back in his head. Through our link, a blast of divine energy knocked me to my knees. I yelled his name while staring numbly as blood and the silver fluid of his Divine Light poured from his back and pooled around him.
Through my eyes blurred by tears, I saw Phoebus hold Kwazeem’s head up by the chin, exposing his throat. In a last surge of despair, I shot back to my feet to try and keep him from slitting his throat only to be stopped once more by the wretched generals.
But, to my utter shock, rather than giving him the killing blow, Phoebus and the Archangel that had brought him the sword reached for something in Kwazeem’s back and yanked forcefully. My mate screamed again as dark wings matted in blood and silver essence protruded from his back, their tips held by the two Seraphs. Reaching in again, they yanked once more, pulling out a second pair of baby wings. This time, Kwazeem’s face, previously constricted with pain, dissolved in an expression of pure bliss.
I stood on wobbly legs, staring at him in disbelief. The generals released me at last, and I stumbled with uncertain feet towards my mate. Phoebus and his companions released Kwazeem who slumped while remaining in his kneeling position. Head bowed, hands dangling on each side of his body, he almost appeared asleep.
His stunted wings hung limply behind him, the white ermine duvet around his shoulders marking him as a Seraph, like Phoebus and his generals. My brain was struggling to assimilate what I had just witnessed, what it all meant. Falling to my knees before him, I cupped Kwazeem’s face in my hands and lifted his head up to look at him. He seemed groggy, but his smile was genuinely happy, peaceful.
“Chant to your mate, Anointed Vestal Esmeralda,” Phoebus said in a solemn voice. “Your Light will mend him and make him what he always should have been.”
I gaped at the High Seraph who didn’t wait for my answer before marching over to Frollo. The Praetor tensed but otherwise remained stoic.
“I know what you did,” Phoebus calmly said to the Praetor. “Why you felt so familiar. You knew.” Frollo didn’t answer but held the High Seraph’s gaze unflinchingly. “You will look after him in the temple until his wings are strong enough for him to fly to Elysium. We will deal with your indiscretion at a later time.”
With these words, he spread his double pair of dark wings and took flight, followed by his generals. The Angels and Archangels—all white-winged—stopped before us, bowed their heads to Kwazeem, and then flew in formation back to their floating city.
Kwazeem’s arms tightened around me, and his silver eyes began to glow with the Divine Light that had been trapped within him his whole life. My gaze locked with his, I began to Chant and watched his beautiful face take on a blissful expression. Lost in each other’s eyes, I barely noticed our little imps coming to cuddle on our lap.
The Chakra Ceremony didn’t take place the following day, or the following week. I had no interest in caring for the people who had so vocally wished a painful death for my mate. Anyway, my focus was on getting Kwazeem back up on his feet—literally.
My power had hurt Kwazeem in the past because it had tried to enhance what was trapped. Between my Chant and our link, his stunted wings grew at an exponential rate, to be as full and majestic as Phoebus’s—which made them terribly heavy. One pair would have been hard enough to handle, but two was a true nightmare. I felt horrible for the number of times I laughed at my poor mate toppling this way or that. The funniest had to be watching him walk bent forward as if he was fighting a strong wind, just to avoid falling on his ass.
However, it wasn’t just standing and walking that required relearning, but mastering this new weight distribution and balance while fighting, swimming, and blacksmithing. Sleeping also proved challenging for him. Worse still, he had to modify it each day as his wings continued to grow, taking up more space. Eventually, our favorite position ended up being yours truly lying on top of him with his wings wrapped around me like a blanket.
Shirts became a thing of the past for him, not that I minded the eye-candy. After years of living in hiding, it was difficult for Kwazeem to do the transition of walking around in broad daylight, his bluish-gray skin and scales exposed for the whole world to see. He didn’t realize just how beautiful he was. While his hump had never bothered me, I couldn’t deny loving how regal he looked now that he could stand straight, towering over us little people with his height of seven feet. Even Frollo looked dwarfed in my mate’s presence.
Whatever tensions had existed between the Praetor and me died that day on the plaza. We would never be friends, and I doubted I would ever genuinely like him, but an unbreakable bond would forever exist between us. Frollo wasn’t what I would call a good man, but there was genuine kindness and loyalty in him. He had given a somewhat decent life to my mate for years, and tried to save him when others would have simply hid until the storm had passed. For that, he had earned my eternal gratitude.
The minute Kwazeem had landed on the plaza, the Elohim had felt his Divine Light and realized he was one of theirs. Because of that, Phoebus had immediately known he wouldn’t kill Kwazeem that day. I wanted to punch him for having carried on with the charade regardless. He had deliberately dragged on the battle to force Kwazeem to use his Divine Light to reignite mine. Apparently, he’d felt my Light spark back to life upon my mate’s arrival. As Kwazeem later found out the hard way while sparring with the High Seraph, Phoebus could have crushed him in a heartbeat with his eyes closed. He’d intentionally been going easy on him during the fight.
The kicker in all this? Phoebus was Kwazeem’s uncle. The High Seraph’s brother, Liantus, had apparently fallen in love with Kwazeem’s mother while negotiating a peace treaty between their peoples, to reunite the Light Bearers and the Elohim on Elysium. But a war in the outer rings of our solar system had put the discussions on hold. As Liantus had died without revealing his secret, Phoebus hadn’t known to look for a potential child.
It was no wonder Kwazeem’s mother had been forced to flee the presence of her clan. As Fallen, they had hungered for the baby’s Divine Light and had been draining his very essence. Unlike the Elohim of lower ranks such as the Angels and Archangels, as an angelic prince, Kwazeem’s dark wings developed in a pouch that his sire would have severed between the ages of six and seven—a fact not widely known to outsiders. Without his father’s untimely death, my mate would have never endured all this pain.
Phoebus had wanted a harsh punishment for Frollo exploiting the boy Kwazeem had been but, to my relief, Kwazeem opposed it. As the ‘injured’ party in this mess, my mate made it clear that it was his call to make. I still had mixed feelings about Frollo’s motives for intervening on Kwazeem’s behalf during the battle. I wanted to believe it had been out of some kind of loyalty for my mate, but the Praetor was a practical man. Having a Fallen unfairly executed within the walls of his city would have no doubt started a major conflict with the other Fallen. There was no question in my mind that thought had crossed his.
Either way, we agreed that while the population would remain in the dark about the old gardener’s true identity, Frollo would retain his role as Grand Magister of Paris.
Although we were welcomed to use my old quarters in the temple, Kwazeem and I ended up staying mostly in his cabin, making frequent trips to the Godswood to see Old Nan. It took nearly a month for him to be confident enough to perform the flight from Paris to Elysium while carrying me.
I would never admit it, but having a full angelic legion accompanying us during that flight alleviated whatever concerns I had that my added weight might make Kwazeem falter before reaching our destination.
Elysium exceeded even my wildest imaginings. Built around a series of floating mountains with lush, green plateaus, the city had been cleverly designed to al
most blend with the surrounding nature while still using the finest technologies. No two buildings looked alike. Their colors, made to almost camouflage with their surroundings, still stood out enough to prevent you walking by without noticing their presence. With many structures built vertically along big elevations or giant trees, floating platforms could be found everywhere for non-winged dwellers. Today, that only meant the Vestals who had mated with the Seraphs.
Light bridges connected the various floating mountains, only forming once you approached the sensors. It would take me a long time to become comfortable using them, if ever. Kwazeem was given his father’s former dwelling carved directly into the mountain face with a stunning view of Eden below. Part of a large waterfall spilled into a private pond behind our house.
With huge reflective windows everywhere, walking around our new home felt like strolling on a cloud. While the artisans of Elysium would gladly provide us with anything we needed to decorate our house, what I truly wanted was the portrait of a beautiful hybrid boy holding a hatching imp egg to feature prominently above our fireplace. The next time I went down to Paris to perform my Vestal duties, I would have to pay Old Nan a visit and bribe her into giving it to us.
Thankfully not having any fear of heights, I stood on one of our balconies that gave onto nothing but empty air and a large forest, who only knew how far below. Kwazeem’s powerful arms wrapped around my midsection. I purred as his teeth gently nipped at the tender flesh at the crook of my neck before kissing it better.
“Welcome home, my mate.”
I loved the feel of his hot skin and the gentle scraping of his scales against my back. Turning around in his embrace, I caressed his back before my palms settled on the round mounds of his perfect behind.
“It isn’t home until we’ve properly baptized every room,” I said with a sinful smile.
Kwazeem’s lips parted in shock before they stretched into a naughty smile. Eyes smoldering, he tightened his hold around me before brushing his mouth against mine.
“I can totally get behind such a plan,” he whispered, his voice becoming gravelly with his burgeoning arousal.
While our tongues swirled around each other’s, my fingers made quick work of opening the clasp holding his leather kilt around his waist. A single tug sufficed to make it fall down to his feet. Impatient to claim my prize, my hand slipped inside his undergarment to rub Kwazeem’s stiffening cock. It jerked against my palm, and my mate growled his approval. The rippling ridges along the length of his shaft tickled my fingers as I gently stroked him. His hips began to move in counterpoint to my movements while his hands unclasped my cropped, strapless bustier top.
Fisting my hair at the nape, he tilted my head back to cover my neck and chest with kisses. As much as I liked to get my breasts fondled, I didn’t let him get to his treat. Yanking his own hair back to make him stop, I pushed him backwards over the short distance to the wall. While my hand continued to stroke him, I kissed, licked, and nipped a path down his muscular chest. After a couple of short pauses, first to pay homage to the hard little nub of his nipple and then to tickle his navel with my tongue, I dragged down his undergarment with my teeth while accelerating the movement of my hand.
I got it only low enough to expose his balls before my mouth latched onto one of them. My free hand continued to strip him while I sucked on each of his silky, heavy sacs. Kwazeem’s choked moan spurred me on. Dimmed specks of light sparkled beneath the skin of his testicles, their glow intensifying under my pursued ministrations. Just like everything about him, my mate was infused with Divine Light.
Moving up, my tongue laved and licked the ridges along his shaft before reaching the head and sucking it into my mouth. Kwazeem cried out, his hand tightening his grip in my hair as I bobbed over him. His aura swirled around me, slapping me with a sudden surge of lust. But this time, with this man, it felt right. And I gladly surrendered to it. With my nipples painfully hard and moisture pooling between my thighs, I slipped a hand between my legs to rub my aching nub.
Kwazeem suddenly yanked me up and, his hands landing under my bum, he lifted me. I yelped in shock, and my heart skipped a beat when he carried me to the large stone railing of the balcony and sat me down on top. Fear and excitement surged through me as he dropped to his knees before me and lifted my legs over his shoulders. My mini-skirt in no way prevented him from using his teeth to move aside the thin triangle of my thong.
I cried out as the burning heat of his tongue dove for my core. Head thrown back, hands fisting his hair, I moaned with ecstasy as he devoured me with rabid hunger. With half of my body dangling over the infinite void below, only his hands wrapped around my thighs kept me from falling. I should have been terrified, but all I could think was more. My hips gyrated beneath his sensual assault, and one of my hands let go of his hair to fondle my breast.
As if he’d heard my thoughts, Kwazeem stood up. His palms holding the middle of my back, he rammed himself home in one powerful thrust and swallowed my shout of pain with a greedy kiss. As he pumped in and out of me, the initial burn of his brutal possession quickly faded, soon replaced by waves of pleasure as the blunt head of his cock zeroed in on my sweet spot. The rippling ridges alongside his shaft enhanced each sensation a thousandfold.
I writhed beneath his relentless assault, hanging on for dear life. Fear and ecstasy mixed in a potent drug that had me speaking in tongues. A blinding light exploded before my eyes, and my mouth parted in a silent O as my body seized with a violent orgasm. Kwazeem cried out as my inner walls clamped down on his cock, squeezing him from all sides. Instead of making him topple over, it spurred him into an even more rabid assault. My mate pounded into me with such reckless abandon I feared the railing would break beneath me. But even as he was killing me with pleasure, I wanted more, meeting him thrust for thrust until we both fell apart, together this time.
And then the railing vanished beneath me.
I screamed as we fell over, seconds before Kwazeem’s majestic wings began to flap. Heart pounding, I clung to him as he flew around the house to the pond at the back, his hips still pumping in and out, filling me with his seed.
The cool water of the pond felt icy cold on my feverish skin. Kwazeem swallowed my gasp yet again as he lay me down on a half-submerged, polished rock by the waterfall. My mate’s hips picked up the momentum as he hardened again. Eyes glowing, an almost feral expression on his face, Kwazeem gave me a predatory smile.
“One area baptized,” he whispered against my lips. “Now for number two.”
By the time he’d finally taken pity on me, five areas had been baptized, with sixteen more to go. Welcome home, indeed…
Epilogue
Kwazeem
“Thank you, Seraph Kwazeem,” Mikku said with respect. “We will bring this latest proposal to the clans and get back to you promptly. Please know that we are tremendously grateful for your relentless efforts in finding a compromise agreeable to all parties involved.”
“Elohim and Light Bearers were meant to live together,” I said in a formal voice, although emotion tied my throat. “I am only happy to be able to help rectify this unfortunate situation.”
“As are we,” Mikku replied.
It was awkward to have my uncle address me with such deference. But as an angelic prince even the Angels and Archangels bowed before me. What a long way I had come from being the invisible hunchback of Our Lady of Paris.
It had never crossed my mind that the Fallen male who had called Old Nan for help with my mother going into labor had been her older brother Mikku. I had often wondered if I had any remaining family within my mother’s clan. Finding that Uncle Mikku had secretly brought Victus’s and Lazarus’s eggs to Old Nan’s shop for me had moved me to the core. In many ways, my imps had kept me sane through years of loneliness in Paris.
Along with the other three Fallen of his delegation, my uncle bowed his head before leaving the meeting hall of the temple. A year ago, who would have thought that four Fallen ma
les—five if you counted me—would be publicly traipsing around the walls of the temple of Vesta in response to a formal invitation from the Praetor of Paris? Tensions had run high in the city when the first couple of visits had occurred. Today, they drew a healthy curiosity and a certain sense of excitement. The reunification of the Elohim and the Light Bearers meant the angelic auras would no longer be so potent as to negatively affect humans. That, in turn, meant the doors of Elysium might once more occasionally be opened to non-ergokinetic humans.
But for me, it meant reuniting the two peoples that I belonged to and completing post-mortem, the mission my father had initiated. It almost didn’t happen. Phoebus’s address threatening to raid the Fallen tribes and clans in search for me had rightfully angered them.
“Impressive work,” Frollo said to me as the meeting room’s door closed behind my uncle.
“Thank you,” I said, more touched than I’d ever admit.
“You never cease to exceed my expectations,” Frollo said pensively. “I still haven’t found another gardener with half your skills. Forget about a blacksmith of rival talent. You snagged the woman coveted by two of the most powerful men of Eden. All of Paris bows before you in deference. And you are now mending a hundred year rift between the two dominant species of the Nine Circles. Good job.”
My cheeks heated at the unexpected praise. Frollo had always been a man of few words where I was concerned. And yet, they couldn’t have been more accurate than in this instance. But not only was I the diplomat that would reunite our peoples, I had also become the master blacksmith of the Elohim, with all my angelic brothers dying for a weapon crafted by my hand.
“I was raised with the belief that hard work yields rewards. It seems that was accurate,” I said with pretend nonchalance.
It was the Praetor’s turn to look somewhat uncomfortable. There was no love or friendship between us, and yet, that cold, selfish man held a special place in my heart.