A Witch's Beauty

by A Witch's Beauty (lit)

  Being here on her knees, tasting him, response gathered between her legs once more. A reaction that intensified when his hands took possession of her movements, came around to guide her in her grip upon him, showing her the way to best please him.

  Gratitude wasn't causing her renewed wetness. It was that craving to be under his control again, serving his pleasure. Oh, gods, what was this? It was a compulsion spell without the spell, and her own body was roaring her capitulation. She knew so much about every dark corner of herself, it was a shock to find this whole area of intertwined light and dark unexplored.

  The joining part of his testicles led to the tight crease of his buttocks, for he was deliciously clenched as he thrust harder into her mouth, stretching it. Like the cut of his knife, she gloried in the feel of it-discomfort mixed with pleasure.

  She was whimpering in the back of her throat, she realized. Her eyes closed, tearing. His bare foot was next to her knee, the toes digging into the sand beneath it. Her lower back and hips were cramping, but she didn't care; she needed this first, needed to feel it.

  But, suddenly, in a move too swift for her to counter or follow, he'd pulled her away and laid her down on the sand, putting himself between her legs. She had time for one swift, indrawn breath before his hands gripped her thighs, pulling them high on his hips so he could ram into her to the hilt, splitting her apart with his size and violence.

  She cried out at the glory of it. He was a savage animal, his face intent, fierce, dangerous. When she reared up and bit him, he pinned her back to the ground with one hand on her throat, grasping her buttock in bruising fingers as he pumped into her, once, twice, three times. His seed flooded her, hot, scalding; she arched and moaned, shuddering with it. Not a climax, but a deep, gut-quivering sensation that went to the soul of who she was. He'd somehow found his way there, was inside her. Not breaking her apart, but taking ownership of her, from the inside out.

  She wanted to find her cynicism, tell herself that she'd never had sex before, so this could be the hormonal tricks of the body, masquerading as magic. But she knew enough about magic to recognize it when it occurred, and she also knew all magic carried a price. Some types required high sacrifices from the soul of the giver. Those magics could dismantle the soul, and she'd no doubt this had the power to do that.

  She also knew she'd gladly pay that price again and again, until there were no pieces of her soul left that didn't rest firmly in his grasp. So she'd obviously lost her mind. Her perspective. This apparently was what physical intimacy did to people.

  He'd shifted and now lay beside her, scooting her with an amusingly male, short umph into the cradle of his body. As she rested her head on his arm, felt him getting his breath back and his hand on her hair, stroking, she looked absently toward the shoreline to make certain their island wasn't about to disappear under the rising tide, because surely she'd slept several hours.

  He'd built a sandcastle. Complete with turrets embellished with pieces of straw and shells, even sea glass and shaped aluminum that had washed ashore with the tide cycle. As she propped herself on her elbows, she realized the low walls had been built in a large circle all the way around her, guarding her in a simple, charming way. Absorbed by her lust when she woke, she'd completely missed it. Rising to her feet, her heart thudding dully in her ears, her gaze strayed past the wall to clumps of slick brown sea vegetation he'd used to form words and shapes, outlining them with tiny shells.

  He stood just behind her now, his wings at half-mast, shadowing them both. "I know it seems silly," he said as her silence drew out. "But I thought, neither of us really got to be teenagers. Why shouldn't we have the chance to express love the way kids do? Passionate, kind of silly. Kind of perfect."

  When she continued to stare, his hands came down on her shoulders. She couldn't make her body move, could only stand there woodenly as he spoke. "You don't have to say anything. I don't expect anything from you, and it doesn't have to be anything complicated. I just wanted you to know."

  I love Mina. That was what the words spelled. She'd taught herself enough about languages without the enchanted glass to know that. And the word love was depicted with a heart shape. She'd seen scratchings on rocks and shells, tossed into the ocean by romantic humans like wishes, so she knew that as well.

  "Don't do this. You don't know me, David."

  "Most people don't know much about someone when they fall in love." He was speaking carefully now, picking up on the tension mounting around her, she was sure. "And sometimes finding out can make that love end. But angels are different. We know-regardless of what we do or don't know about the object of our love-when we're in love."

  He made her turn even though she didn't want to, the serious brown eyes, the sweet, sensual mouth tearing into her soul. "You love darkness, David," she accused. "An angel isn't supposed to love darkness. This is wrong." So wrong.

  "I love you," he responded.

  "We've barely met."

  "I don't need time to understand this." She heard a hint of impatience in his tone, though she could sense his effort to keep his voice even. "I felt the bond with you the first time we met, months ago. And when I hold you, I don't feel any emptiness. I can't remember the last time I felt that way."

  She'd never felt that way. Except when he'd held her. "So"-she broke from that intense eye contact, ostensibly to look back at the etching in the sand, but really to give her the courage to inject the necessary sarcasm into her voice-"I'm your first love."

  "Yes." His voice was firm. Determined. "And my last. Angels only fall in love once, Mina. Most wait centuries for it. So I'm lucky."

  Shock had her head whipping up, meeting his gaze again. "You're wrong. About all of it. There's no way this could-"

  "I'm not wrong."

  "You... I can't give you..." Breaking away, she backpedaled on unsteady feet, her body far more used to the movement of the ocean, and ended up stumbling into the sandcastle wall. She would have landed ignominiously on her backside, but of course he caught her. She flailed, struggling, and got away in another shower of sand, sending shells and straw pennants scattering. "See? I've ruined it. You're just making me confused, and I can't... David, I can't be anyone's eternal love. Is it eternal? Does it last forever?" She was panic-stricken at the thought, as if she'd given him an incurable disease. If she believed any of this at all.

  "If I was an immortal being, given only one chance to fall in love, I'd hope that would be the case."

  "I can't give you what you need for that. You are wrong. You have to be. Look at me."

  A slight smile touched his lips, increasing her distress. Despite the curiously innocent way he'd chosen to tell her, she knew he understood his own mind quite well. He was an angel, after all. In contrast, she was falling out of the sky, this time with no possible safety net.

  "I am looking at you. I have from the very beginning, and I've never stopped. And you give me what I need, just by existing." Stepping over the wall, he followed her movements as she retreated toward the water, but then flashed forward to grab her hand before she could reach the tide line. "Mina, stop. Listen to me. Look at me."

  "I don't want to. You can't make me."

  It was ridiculous, but her normal belligerence was the only weapon she had against this. He unmasked the desperation behind it with nothing more than a simple touch along her cheek with his clever fingers. She closed her eyes, still refusing. He didn't understand. If she looked at him, she would break. She wished she had done something terrible to him the very first time he'd come to her in the Graveyard. Something that would have made him agree with Marcellus and never seek her out again. He'd be safe, beautiful. Perfect forever.

  "I demand nothing, Mina. I promise. Except that you let me keep you safe." When she opened despairing eyes, he cocked his head, regarded her with a gaze that had the ability to rip her into four pieces, like a medieval torturer. "And while you can't say it back to me, not with your mouth, I know you will one day, if Fate is kind.
For now, I'll say it for you. Show it to you. Prove it to you."

  "Can you..." It was cruel, but she'd never balked at being heartless before. Though could she be heartless, if it felt like something lethal was being driven into her heart? "Could you please get rid of it? The castle and the words?"

  He pressed his lips together, but other than that, and an uncomfortable pause, his expression stayed patient, his tone even. "I won't undo what I've done. But if you have a good spell for a stiff breeze?"

  Pulling her hand away, she stood apart and swept her arm across that area with violent purpose, summoning the magic needed. And as it came at her bidding, she had to watch it, direct the magic, while simultaneously trying not to watch the isolated sphere of wind dismantle the sand walls and towers, scatter the shells, pieces of sea glass and words, until only the impression of his painstaking work remained. She tried not to notice how still he stood, the weight of his eyes upon her as her wind blew pieces of it around his ankles, ruffled the feathers along his arms and the hair across his forehead.

  "I'm not going to the Citadel," she said decisively when she was done. "You can't make me do that, either."

  Eleven

  AT his look, Mina's brows drew down. "Fine. Perhaps you can, but I'll make it decidedly unpleasant."

  "If you didn't, I'd think you'd been possessed by someone else."

  Even as he made the wry comment, eliciting her scowl, David was drawing a mental deep breath. He'd known she'd probably react this way. Hadn't he told himself that about fifty times while he'd done it? Maybe he was as young and impulsive as the other angels said. But he didn't regret it. And he wasn't going to let her reaction deter him. So for now, he'd let it go and focus on the more immediate issue.

  He tried a different tack. "I thought you said angels didn't scare you."

  "They don't." Her chin jerked up. "I just don't care to spend any time in their company. Your company," she added cuttingly. "I'll wait here. Or I'll go back to the Graveyard, wait for you there."

  He shook his head. While he might be an incurable romantic, when it came to protecting her, he was not impulsive in the least. Now was not the time to advise her of part two of his plan, which meant they wouldn't be returning to the sea for a while. "I want you where I can protect you. Indulge me in my delusion," he added, before she could launch her litany about not needing anyone's protection. "There might be more oranges and chocolate in it."

  As he watched the words sink in, the uncontrolled panic and frustration that had suffused her face for the past several moments was abruptly supplanted by a reassuring surge of female fury. Good.

  "Have I given you the impression that I'm a child or a pet, David? That I can be bribed with treats? I should have turned you into a mollusk," she muttered.

  "No," he said, now stepping forward. "I didn't think that. But you've had to rely on yourself so long you may not recognize when you could use an extra hand. You fight well, but we surprised them, and there were only four. I'm asking you," he said firmly, "to go with me to the Citadel. I just have to give a report to my captain. Please don't make it into a fight."

  "David." She shifted her gaze back to the ocean. "I can't go there."

  "An hour," he broke in. "Go with me for an hour. That's all. We'll leave right after that. You don't have to talk to anyone." In fact, he thought it would be a good idea for her not to speak at all, but he wisely kept that observation to himself.

  Moving another step forward, he snaked an arm around her waist and brought her to his chest, taking her lips in a frustrated kiss. She surprised him, for he expected her to fight him. Almost immediately, her mouth opened beneath his as if she'd been starving for it, and he recalled the hunger in her gaze at the end of their sky flight, the way her gaze had fixed on his lips. She liked kissing him. The thought didn't do anything to cool his sudden ardor, but he would take advantage of it, plundering her mouth, teasing her lips, even catching a lip to suckle it briefly, causing a low whimper in the back of her throat.

  He knew he'd scared the hell out of her with his declaration, but he also wanted it clear he wasn't backing off. This was how he felt. He'd known it within that first month after meeting her, when he found it impossible to stop hounding Marcellus's men for information and updates about her well-being. Initially, he'd shared her own incredulity about it, but the bond was there, whether or not she was or would ever be capable of returning the feeling. He just hoped the Goddess wouldn't be that cruel, for he reacted to her like flame. And when she put her hands between them to thrust him back, she was satisfyingly breathless.

  "David." She glowered at him anyway. "You can't seduce me every time you want to get your way."

  "Well, I could, and then you could still say no afterward. That way we're both getting something out of it."

  "I think my lack of integrity is rubbing off on you," she growled.

  "Mina." He sobered, putting his hands on her hips. "I just need to know you're safe. I've let Jonah know we're coming. He'll make sure no one bothers you."

  "Thirty minutes," she said at last.

  "An hour is what we said at first."

  "No more than. Thirty minutes would be better."

  Even as she got a nod from him, the dread clogging her throat told Mina she was making a mistake. Not going at all was best. What was that expression? Out of the boiling water, into the fire. She'd wanted off this island so she could avoid the terrifying and absolutely ridiculous idea that an angel thought he was in love with her. But going to the Citadel to avoid further conversation about it might be taking things too far.

  Damn it, she should hate this. She did hate this. He needed to be gone, far, far away. She didn't want anyone to expect more of her than she had to offer. She didn't want to want him, to be drugged and completely intoxicated by him. To forget the day would come when the truth would permeate his unusually mortal heart and mind, and he would realize she was something repulsive to his kind.

  How had he done this to her? Gods, there was no secret to it. It was pathetic, really. No one in her life, with the exception of Anna, had ever shown her lasting kindness, and she'd kept Anna at bay. David was overwhelming, with all the charisma and potency of an angel as well as the appealing darkness of a human mortal. So for the first time in her life, she had someone interested in her for herself, and she didn't know how to handle it. She'd just agreed to go to the Citadel, and she feared the only reason she'd said yes was for that tiny curl of warmth in her belly at the pleasure in his eyes. She was going to have to find a way to end this, once and for all.

  He's an angel. She repeated it to herself, because she wasn't sure her heart and body were listening. It radiated from him. She'd know it by doing nothing more than looking into his dark eyes, feeling it through the touch of his hand, seeing it in the noble turn of his head, the magnificent spread of his wings. A young angel, to be sure, but an angel, no question. What had he said? That being an angel was something that "just was." Like her nature.

  She had the strangest desire to talk to Anna about this, and wondered if she'd be at the Citadel.

  What? Startled, she shut down that avenue with a resounding slam in her mind. See? She was actively wanting to see her. Be friendly. Gods.

  "I'm not being carried," she said, backing away from him. "I'll fly."

  David stopped in the process of sliding his arms around her to lift her. "What? I thought you said-"

  "I did. But I'm flying myself. Or I don't go."

  A muscle flexed in his jaw, that appealing indication of annoyance or temper that only intrigued her, made her want to trace her tongue over it...

  Focus, damn it.

  "It's a long flight," he pointed out.

  "Good thing I'm well rested, then."

  HE could have made it much faster at his usual pace, but David was surprised at how swiftly she could move through the clouds, the dragon's scales glittering with the sun's light, her large serpentine eyes blinking as she adjusted to his course changes smoothly.


  They went to Shamain, of course, the level of Heaven closest to the Earth. To his amusement, when she got there she insisted on maintaining the dragon form. She perched on a gray stone spire, wreathed with ivy blooming with white flowers. Grasping the steeple like structure in long talons, she hunched there like a misplaced vulture.

  Jonah was reading on the open balcony to the bailey below. As she settled fifty feet above him, he tilted his head to eye her, while she glared back balefully.

  "And a good day to you, too." He nodded to her, then glanced over at David as he landed next to him on the mosaic tile ironically depicting St. George's fight with the dragon. "So much for an inconspicuous approach."

  "It was the only way she'd come, short of dragging her kicking and screaming. Sure you don't mind?"

  "I'm just glad you called ahead, so to speak. Some of the more eager of our ranks would have used her for archery practice."

  A rumble from above drew Jonah's dark gaze.

  "From what I've seen of their aim," she rasped, "they likely need the practice."

  "Hurry," Jonah advised David. "My patience has limits."

  David nodded, but found himself uneasy about leaving her. She was unsettled, a certain urgency to her that he could attribute to her dislike of angels, though that didn't feel like all of it. But she'd refused to say anything further on their flight here.

  "Feeling a little overprotective?" Jonah's shrewd gaze was on him.

  David shrugged uncomfortably. Glancing down at the book Jonah was reading, he saw the commander was reviewing a text on the spiritual history of the Australian Aborigines. She likes books. And her eyesight is very good, if the book is turned in the right direction. That might help keep her occupied.

  Jonah gave him a curious look. Shifted casually in accordance with David's wishes. She doesn't know what you're really doing here, does she?