“The reaper?”
“I have been enjoying killing far too much.” His low voice sounded as if it echoed from darkness. “The Fallen are shadows of our former selves. Once, we knew right from wrong like it was the difference between day and night. Now everything is dusky and muddled. I question myself, always.”
“Have you actually killed anyone who didn’t deserve it? Anyone who wasn’t allied with the Free Men?”
“I don’t think so. Not in a long time.”
I reached out, touching the side of his face. “You’re terrifying, but I know that underneath you are trying to do the right thing. I think you’re selfless in your own way. You took an arrow for me. You are committed to keeping Dovren safe. The Free Men are truly evil. Maybe it takes someone with a dark side to fight them. I think things will get messy. Blood will flow, but I know you have a good soul.”
A smile ghosted over his lips. “The same is true for you. And that’s why I’m not worried about you turning into Lilith.” He frowned at the bruises on my throat. “Maybe I can heal that.” He leaned down and pressed his forehead against mine, then cupped the side of my throat.
He closed his eyes and began to whisper in his strange Angelic language. The language itself had a power to it, each word vibrating through the air, skimming over my bare skin, under the curtain I was holding in front of me. I breathed in deeply. The healing felt warm, fiery. And as he spoke, the magic started to pulse into the skin at my throat, moving down into my chest. It was as delicious and addictive as he was, and it made me want to kiss him again.
As my throat healed, some of the panic began to leave my mind also.
Samael had to be right. Of course Lilith would try to manipulate me—it didn’t mean it was true.
He stepped away from me again, his gaze still searing me.
“If we’re sharing a room and I show off my wares, will it distract you?” I let the curtain drop just a little.
A muscle tightened in his jaw as his gaze brushed over me. I looked down at his hands, watching his fists clench.
He muttered something that sounded like “God help me” and turned away from me again. “Please put some clothes on. I’m going to start making preparations for the wedding. I will send Oswald up, and a guard to the door while I’m out to make sure you’re safe.” He shot one last look at me before he left.
I touched my throat where he’d healed me, still feeling the warmth that had beamed from his touch.
I was starting to feel like we were made for each other. And if he had faith in me, I’d have faith, too.
I wanted more of him.
29
Lila
Oswald laid three wedding dresses out on Samael’s bed—one white, one cream, and one forest green. Already, wedding plans were charging full speed ahead.
He handed me a champagne flute, and I took a sip, staring at the gowns. I was already wearing a silky white bathrobe, belted at the waist, that looked good enough to be a wedding gown, as far as I was concerned. But the dresses were divine. Mesmerizing.
“Which one do you like best?” he asked. “We will have it properly fitted tomorrow.”
I stared at them. They were all so beautiful it was hard to choose, with delicate chiffon fabric and stitching that looked like twisting, thorny vines over delicate bodices. “How did you get these together so quickly?” I asked. “Samael just decided fifteen minutes ago that we’d be married tomorrow, and now we have a selection of dresses.”
“The count had someone buy these weeks ago. Seems it was on his mind.” He took a sip of his champagne. “Do you know? He might be a closet romantic under all the brooding and killing. He’s been making floral arrangements.” He quirked an eyebrow. “If you ever see anything like that happening to me, please put me out of my misery.”
“You’d rather die than arrange flowers?”
He adjusted his suit jacket and sniffed. “My manliness depends on it. There are certain rules to manliness, you see.”
The corner of my lips twitched in a smile. “Interesting. Is there a guidebook?”
“Unwritten rules I’m afraid.”
“And despite being thousands of years old, forged for divine vengeance and immortal, Samael’s manliness is in danger because he did something with flowers.”
He shot me a grave expression. “Absolutely. But don’t you dare tell him I said so.”
I sipped my champagne, the bubbles starting to go to my head. “And if it doesn’t impugn your manliness to answer this question, which do you think is the best one?”
“I am far too manly to have an opinion on dresses.” He blew a dark curl out of his eyes. “But a less manly person might suggest the white would complement your skin nicely, and it is traditional for brides, I believe.”
An image flitted through my mind—a white dress with blood dripping down the front. Shivering, I shook myself to purge it. I didn’t want to look anything like Lilith. “I think the green. It was the color for wedding gowns a thousand years ago, I think. It’s beautiful.”
He flashed me a lopsided smile. “Did you ask my opinion simply so you could disregard it?”
“It helped clarify my thoughts.” I bit my lip. “I don’t suppose we could send someone to commission a crown of flowers? There’s a girl who sells boutonnieres under the bridge by Ducking Witch Park. She could make a flower crown.”
“A girl? We could have a skilled florist do it.” His smile turned wry. “Or Samael.”
“The girl is very good,” I said. “Her name is Hannah.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” He took a long drink of his champagne, nearly draining his glass. Then caught my eye, his features tight, eyes narrow. “Sorry. I’m a bit nervous about all this. There is a lot to arrange. More advanced warning would have helped. We’re supposed to set up seating in the ruined church, and I need musicians.” He poured himself another glass. “That’s not even mentioning the coronation afterward. Does he think I’m a miracle worker?”
“Okay, look, you don’t need to babysit me here. There is a guard outside the door. And I’ve got my acorn. I will scream for help if I need it.” I let out a long sigh, wondering exactly how long I’d need this sort of guarding. When Samael killed Lilith, would it all be over?
His pinched expression relaxed. “You’re sure you’re okay here?”
“Yes, go on.”
I felt exhausted, and as soon as he crossed out of the room, I flopped back flat on the bed, arms outstretched in my silky bathrobe.
I felt a million times lighter since I’d told Samael my secret. I needed to do this more often. From now on, I’d tell the complete truth about everything.
I slung an arm over my eyes. I’d never spent a ton of time dreaming of a wedding. Women in my position didn’t have beautiful weddings in silk dresses in ancient cathedrals. But I had imagined it once or twice. Vaguely, I’d thought I’d have a party in a pub, with friends bustling around. Zahra would be there, of course. Maybe the music hall if I married a musician. If my life had remained normal, maybe I would have found someone mortal.
With a sharp pain in my chest, I remembered being a teenager and thinking that one day, I might marry Finn. I’d imagined Mum and Alice would be around to fix my hair, fuss about my dress. Maybe we’d get a band to play, a little flat in the East End. I’d never believed a wedding would be the happiest day of your life—I’d seen too many abandoned women to believe in fairy tales. But I always thought I’d be around family.
My heart ached, and I took a deep breath in and out. I’d lost Alice for good now. But maybe after all this shit was settled with the Free Men, I could see Zahra again. And Mum. Loneliness still gnawed at me.
My stomach felt tight, twisted in knots. I wanted to feel at ease with Samael, but I was still hiding one last secret from him. I hadn’t told him how much I wanted him, had I? My pride was stopping me from doing that. And secrets kept you apart from others, isolating you.
I peeked out to look at Ludd. He cocked
his head, looking at me expectantly. “All right, Ludd. You want to know my secrets? I have many, many secrets.”
He squawked.
“Well, I’m afraid I have to confess anyway. Let’s begin. I used to wake up before Alice in the mornings, but I’d get bored with no one to talk to, so I’d just very gently elbow her in the ribs over and over until she was awake.”
Squawk!
“Yes, I realize I’m evil. But I already feel better, and there’s plenty more. I stole a fish pie from Smithner’s Market once, and it wasn’t even good. I got drunk at the Bibliotek once and threw up on someone’s trumpet and blamed it on Annie Craven, who used to call me ‘Runt.’ Once, one of Ernald’s dock thieves cornered me and groped me until I punched him in the jaw. I saw to it that the cops were around on one of his jobs. Never saw him again. I think they threw him in the Clink. I’m terrified of clowns. They meet at a church service once a year, and I accidentally wandered in—”
Squawk!
“Sorry, am I boring you? Okay, well I’ve got more interesting stuff. I may not have told Samael everything.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I have had the filthiest dreams about Samael, every night since I’ve been locked up here.”
Ludd, at last, fell silent.
I closed my eyes, sighing deeply. “I know it’s not a real marriage, but the truth is that I’m addicted to being near him. I crave his touch and his kiss. He is quite literally the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. But if that weren’t enough, he drives me insane with lust. That’s the problem with touching an angel. Even one little brush with the feathers on their wings makes your heart race, and you need to feel it again. But it’s not just that. It’s the innocent look he has sometimes, like the world just baffles him.”
I heard Ludd flutter away, and I peeked out from under my arm to see that I was alone. I’d managed to bore the crow.
I closed my eyes again, starting to become completely lost in my fantasy, even if Ludd was no longer listening. “When I’m around him, or even when I’m not around him, it makes it hard to think straight.”
I could almost feel his magic moving over me now, snaking up my bare legs and under my robe. I felt my nipples going hard against the silk, and I lifted my knees to feel the cool air skimming over my legs.
“I dreamt he tied me up with ripped-up banners. I was face down on the bed, and he tied my hands right behind my back. And while I was completely vulnerable before him, under his complete control, he pulled down my underwear.” I crossed my legs, my thighs clenching. “Then he sexually tormented me, driving me completely mad with desire. I was shaking, desperate for him to fuck me hard. I need him to just grab me and take me, and it’s deeply inconvenient that he can’t.”
I stopped talking. That pulse of magic over my silky robe wasn’t just my imagination, was it? It was real, hot, and powerful. Slowly, with a racing pulse, I slid my arm off my eyes.
My heart skipped a beat.
Samael was standing in the doorway, his eyes pure licks of flames in the darkness.
Listening to me.
30
Lila
My heart slammed against my ribs, and I sat up straight. I tugged the hem of my nightgown down to my thighs. “Were you spying on me?”
“I was, in fact, just standing in my room. You were detailing your fantasies for me.”
My cheeks were burning, skin heating. “Exactly how much of that did you hear?”
“Since the bit about being addicted to me.” He took a step closer. “And the dream about being tied up, face down. I find it very odd, considering you think I’m average.”
Please kill me. “I was talking about someone else.”
“Why are your cheeks so pink?”
I swallowed hard. “The champagne, of course.”
A ghostly wind whipped through the room, snuffing out the candles. But moonlight still spilled over Samael. “Liar. I have ways of making you confess the truth, you know.”
He moved for me so fast I could hardly track him, but in the next moment, he was kneeling before me on the bed. His hands skimmed up my thighs, and he slid between my legs, kneeling between them.
He leaned down, hands on either side of my hips. His dark, animal side was coming out, and it made my blood roar.
“You filthy little liar,” he purred, his velvety tone sweeping over my body. “Are you ready to yield your sword?”
I took a deep breath. We were starting to play a very dangerous game, but I didn’t want to stop. “And why don’t you yield yours? You clearly care very much what I think of you, or you wouldn’t be pressing this question. Why don’t you admit that my opinion of you is important to you?”
“Hmmmm.” His face was close to mine, and I stared into those fiery eyes, meeting their ferocity with my own. Fear fluttered through me, but the warmth of his sensual magic was overpowering it. His true face was rising, cheeks shining with gold swirls, but I kept staring anyway, holding his intense gaze.
He slid his hands up, gripping my wrists to pin me down to the mattress. “You still need to learn about honesty, I think.” His dominating tone made my breath catch. He leaned down closer, his mouth next to my ear. “Just admit how much you want me.”
Under the silk of my nightgown, my breasts peaked, aching for his touch. His powerful chest was hovering just over mine. This close, the full force of his magic was sizzling over my body, the intensity almost unbearable. I felt its electrifying heat washing over me, circling my thighs, skimming over my hips. An intense ache was building in me. I tightened my thighs around his hips.
His mouth hovered near my throat teasingly. “You were talking about me. And I don’t believe that you think I’m mediocre. Might as well make it official.”
If my arms hadn’t been pinned above my head, I’d probably have reached up to pull him closer.
“Honestly, the needs of your ego are intense.” My breath was catching, coming faster. He had me completely dominated, and I smiled, loving every dangerous second of it. “That word, mediocre, really got to you, didn’t it? You can go ahead and admit that you care about my opinion, and therefore care about me. There’s no shame in that. You don’t think of me like any other mortal.”
His mouth slanted over my throat, and his breath heated me. I wanted him to press his lips against my skin. Instead, he said, “I told you, I never yield my sword first.”
He seared me with a dark, molten stare. An ache built between my thighs as the heat of his magic stroked me, licking between my thighs. My body was sensitive, every inch desperate for his touch.
“Your heart is racing wildly,” he whispered. “Your pupils are dilated. You like the way I look.”
“Fear response,” I murmured.
For a moment, he looked completely lost—so much so that I regretted what I’d said.
I added, “Maybe.”
Amusement danced in his fiery eyes. “I just want to remember what you said, specifically. Sexually tormented, right? Face down, I think, tied up, arse in the air. Quite the image, Lila.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, cheeks burning.
He released my hands and pushed himself up, pulling off his shirt. I kept my eyes lowered from the intensity of his gaze as his primal side rose. So instead, I stared at the perfection of his powerful chest, sculpted by the hand of God. I wanted to run my hands over his chiseled abs, but it would feel like giving in.
“Hmm.” I traced my fingertips over his abs. “Perfectly adequate. That should be enough for your ego, I think. Adequate.”
Just as in my dream, he pulled two of the pillows into the center of the bed. A forbidden pleasure vibrated through my body as I anticipated his touch. Clearly, I needed to annoy him more often.
Slowly, his gaze swept over me, and he reached for the belt around my bathrobe. In one swift movement, he untied it and yanked it off. My robe fell open a little. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath it except a pair of underwear.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I aske
d. “Isn’t this against your rules?”
“I’m an angel, not a saint,” he murmured.
Samael was the last person in the world I should play games with—for his sake and for mine. But I felt like we were past a point of no return. I couldn’t stop myself.
The bathrobe fell open, my nipples standing at attention in the cool air. My breasts ached for his touch.
Flames rose higher in his eyes, and every muscle in his chest went taut. He leaned down, hands on either side of my hips. Then, he lowered his mouth to my breast, kissing it lightly. Too lightly. He was teasing me on purpose, still trying to get me to admit how I felt about him.
“Reasonably average appearance,” he murmured into my breast. “Passable.”
The silky seduction in his voice nearly made me miss what he’d said. When I processed it, I frowned, gently shoving his shoulders away and narrowing my eyes at him. “Liar.”
The corner of his lip twitched. “Is it just me, or do you care very much what I think, too?”
Yes. “No.”
“I have ways of making you talk.”
He pulled off my bathrobe—one shoulder at a time—and I felt goosebumps rise on my skin. A dark thrill rippled through me. I was sitting before the terrifying Angel of Death in nothing but my undies.
My heart pounded as he reached down for me and lifted me by the waist. In one smooth motion, he positioned me face down, my hips over the pillows.
Oh, God, this wasn’t another dream was it? I needed to not wake up from this one.
Gently, he pulled my wrists behind my back and tied them with the silk belt from the bathrobe. “Was this what happened in your dream about that other angel?”
“Very much like this, with that other angel, who definitely wasn’t you.”
But unlike in my dream, he immediately leaned down over me, the heat of his steely chest warming my back. He pulled my hair away from my nape and, resting on his forearms, grazed his teeth over my neck. It was a dominating, animal gesture, keeping me in my place, but it was also slow and gentle.
Rapture (Hades Castle Trilogy Book 2) Page 15