by Larissa Ione
No, it hadn’t been. But she’d definitely been on the less horrible end of the blade, and it amazed her, humbled her, that his concern wasn’t for himself, but for her. What a magnificent male he was.
The last of her walls crumbled, and she leaned into his touch, selfishly taking comfort from him when she was the one who should be comforting him. His mouth was just inches from hers, his breath fanning her lips, and she found herself wanting even more from him.
“Lyre?” His deep voice was soft, and yet, it hung in the air as a resonant echo.
“Yes?” she whispered.
“If we don’t make it out of here alive, I don’t want the last thing we did to be...this.”
She melted. All her emotions melted, just puddled in the lower chambers of her heart at his tender words.
“What are you saying?” she whispered back, even though she knew.
She hoped. This might not be the ideal place, but it was the perfect time. Nothing in her life had been under her control for years. She’d basically signed everything over to Bael, including her virginity, apparently.
Well, screw that. She’d just thrown in with Cipher, and if they failed in their attempt at escape, she’d either die or end up in Bael’s bed. She didn’t want to do either of those things without having experienced the kind of passion Cipher promised.
His mouth closed on hers, and as if he’d lit a fuse, her body sparked to life. Sizzling, fiery life, brought back from the cold, dead ashes of her past.
She opened to him, and his tongue slid between her lips and stroked hers, deepening the kiss as he pushed her onto her back. He wasn’t rough, but he wasn’t gentle, either. There was a desperate urgency to the way he tore open first her pants and then his, and as he kissed his way down her jaw and along her throat, tiny, hot nibbles left her moaning for more.
He gave her exactly that, making love to her with his mouth all the way to the top of her breasts, where he swept his tongue along the edge of her neckline.
“That’s so sexy,” she whispered, arching to help him shove her bra-lined tank up.
“No,” he said, as he gazed at her bare breasts. “This is.”
Lowering his head, he opened his mouth over her breast and sucked gently, sending a series of erotic tingles spiraling through her. His tongue was magic, stroking and licking each breast as his hands shoved her pants down her legs.
Eagerly she helped him, clawing at the stupid cargoes and then kicking at them when they tangled around her ankles. Finally, she flung them aside and welcomed Cipher between her thighs.
His hands were everywhere, tickling her ribs, stroking the sensitive skin at her hipbones, and delving lower to her swollen sex. She rolled her hips to meet his touch as she wrapped her arms around him. Her hands slid through slick smears of blood, and when she cried out in sorrow that she might be hurting him, he shifted and grasped her wrist, holding it at his back.
“No,” he breathed against her collarbone. “Your touch only makes it better.”
Oh, damn. He was so sweet, so strong, so out of place in this awful world. She fell for him right then and there, her pledge to remain emotionally detached gone up in the flames he was stoking in her as he slipped a finger between her folds.
She nearly sobbed with emotion and pleasure as he caressed her, his fingertip circling her clit with alternating measures of pressure, and adding feather light flicks at the tip and a few heartbeats of intense, steady pressure at the base.
She couldn’t bear it, the way he manipulated her body with the same nimble precision he used with a keyboard. Her climax hit her so hard she couldn’t breathe, could barely even gasp for air as ripples of ecstasy spread all the way to her toes and scalp.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Keep coming.”
Keep coming? Her body was all over that command, and another explosion rocked her.
“Again,” he whispered, and damn if she didn’t ride his hand to another orgasm.
“What are you doing to me?” she cried out as she peaked, because whatever it was, he could keep doing it.
His hot breath fanned her neck as he shifted, positioning himself at her entrance. “Programming you.” His deep voice rumbled with masculine need. “This is how you’ll always respond to me.”
Oh...yes.
Hooking her ankles around his thighs, she arched into him, moaning at the sensation of his broad head pushing past the tight ring of her core. The stretching sensation was bearable; the wait was not.
Panting with exertion and anticipation, she managed a breathless, “Are you saying you hacked my network?”
He looked down at her, his blue eyes glowing with intensity, a hint of a smile on his lips. “You had a strong password, but I haven’t met one yet that I can’t crack.”
His hips rolled as he eased inside her. Pain and pleasure mingled, and this was so much more than she could have hoped for. She’d always regretted that she and Dailon had never consummated their relationship, but now she knew why they hadn’t. As an angel she’d always believed that everything happened for a reason, and that there was always a plan.
But she’d lost that faith to bitterness in recent years. Maybe this was a sign that she’d been right all along, because she knew, without a doubt, that this was the moment an intimate connection was needed.
An intimate connection that reminded her to live, to love, to fight for life.
Hers, and his.
* * * *
This was the best sex Cipher had ever had, and he hadn’t even come yet.
Holy hell, Lyre was tight, her slick channel barely accommodating him, squeezing so hard he didn’t even have to move. She was doing more than enough to make him clench his teeth and hope for control.
That lasted about two seconds.
With a groan of shame, he rocked against her, sliding in and out in a slow, easy rhythm that had her making soft, sexy sounds as she clenched around him. She was close again, so responsive to his touch and his body, and shit, he needed to play with that. A lot. When they got out of here, he was going to find every erogenous zone and he was going to make her come until they both passed out.
“Cipher, I-I’m...” Her sexed-up voice put him over the top as she shouted in release.
He let himself go, lunging into her and sliding her backward in the grass with the force of his thrusts. Surging, his hips driving home as if he needed to claim her so deeply she’d always feel him, he came hard, the ecstasy reaching every part of his body.
It didn’t stop, and at the height of it, his wing anchors, raw and exposed to the elements, rolled into the position they would have taken for an angel’s embrace, the cocoon of wings around an angel and his partner.
Ah, damn, he’d gone all in with Lyre, hadn’t he?
He could hear Hawkyn now, all, “Cipher, the consummate playboy, the jackass who got my Memitim sentence extended with his uncontrollable need to nail everything that moved, finally got his angel ass plucked.”
Or Hawkyn would kill him and never have to the chance to call him “plucked.” Such stupid terms the young punk Memitim were using these days.
The last ripples of pleasure wrung him out, leaving him heaving above Lyre, his arms trembling with the strain of holding himself up as she undulated through her waning climax. Her sixth, maybe? He wasn’t sure, but he loved watching her expression and the way her glistening lips parted with each delicate cry.
Finally, she went limp, her fingers caressing his tender back as she pulled him down on top of her.
“Wow.” Turning her head, she kissed his cheek as he lay at the curve of her shoulder. “That wasn’t what I expected.”
“Better or worse?” If she said worse, he was never telling Hawkyn this story.
She chuckled. “Better. Way, way better.”
Okay, somehow that answer wasn’t any more desirable. “Ah...what were you expecting?”
“More pain, I guess.”
He pushed himself up on one elbow, ignoring the stabbing d
iscomfort where his wings used to be.
“Did you want pain?” He really wasn’t into that, but he figured he could get some tips from Journey. That guy liked his whips and chains and nipple clamps. “And why were you expecting it? Do I scream Dom, or what?”
Her half-lidded, satiated smile stroked his masculine pride. Stroked his cock too, and it stirred. How, he had no idea. His muscles were basically soup right now.
“No, I don’t think I’m into pain, and no, you don’t scream Dom.” She wriggled onto her side, and he slid from her warm body, to his acute disappointment. “It was my first time. I just thought it would be less enjoyable. But it was really enjoyable.”
First time? He stared, unsure how to respond. Or how to feel. She’d given him something she’d held on to for over a century. Something she’d managed to safeguard while living in Sheoul, where innocence and purity were ultra-rare commodities to be selectively ruined in the most useful or evil way imaginable.
Finally, he managed a lame, “Why me? Why now?”
“It had to be you.” She reached over and twined her fingers with his. “I know, because I was ready to have sex with you in your cell and later in my flat.”
She averted her gaze, and he hated it, reached out and tilted her chin up so their eyes met. “Why now?” he repeated. “Tell me, angel.”
Strength and resolve swam in her liquid mercury eyes. “It’s because I needed it. If I’m going to fight, I need a reason to win.”
He inhaled deeply, thankful that she’d been assigned as his handler. Thankful for her. What she lacked in angelic ability she more than made up for with her brains, her fiercely protective nature, and her determination.
“We’ll win.” Reluctantly, he grabbed her pants and slid them over her feet, enjoying the intimacy of helping her dress. That small act was somehow even more personal than sex. “If Azagoth helps us escape, we can’t lose.”
“You think he’ll help after—” She broke off, biting her lip.
“After I betrayed him and got one of his kids killed?” He buttoned his own jeans as she buttoned hers. “He won’t be helping me. He’ll be using me to kill Bael.” And then he’d probably kill Cipher.
Small details.
He suppressed a groan at the ache in his back as he stood and held out a hand to her. “You ready?”
Taking his hand, Lyre nodded. “Whatever happens...thank you.”
“For what?” Needing an excuse to touch her, he tucked her tank top into her pants, letting his fingers linger on her firm rear. “I’m probably going to get you killed.”
“For reminding me that there’s more to live for than revenge.” She smiled wanly. “The downside is that now dying would suck.”
Pretty much. Holding his breath, he looked up at the sky, afraid of what he’d see.
Or wouldn’t see.
Relief nearly knocked him to his knees. There, in the gray-streaked orange sky, were the transparent characters that made up the spell codes. He didn’t want to waste the power remaining in the stems of his wings since he had no way to recharge now, but just a teeny bit couldn’t hurt. He opened himself to a trickle of power and zapped a character out of existence before replacing it a heartbeat later.
Fucking awesome. It was his power, not Asher’s.
Now he just had to survive long enough to use it.
Chapter Twenty
A dull pain throbbed in Cipher’s wing anchors as he and Lyre slipped inside the room where his poor laptop sat, all cold and alone. But his body felt revitalized, his mind refreshed.
Amazing what sex can do for a guy, huh?
It wasn’t just the sex that had him hopped up on positive energy. Ridding himself of the heavy taint of malevolence that had come with Asher’s wings had been like a weight off his shoulders. Literally.
He remembered how bereft he’d felt after losing his heavenly wings, how depressed and physically ill he’d been. But if losing his heavenly wings had dragged him down, losing the transplanted evil ones had filled him with power that had nothing to do with angelic energy.
He was, once again, his own master.
They’d also successfully gotten in and out of Bael’s armory with clean pants and a tee he’d pilfered from a guard he’d knocked out, as well as with a weapon protected by a nasty spell that would have turned them both inside out if he hadn’t been able to break it.
But beneath the bliss was a thread of fear. Not for his life, but fear for Lyre. And the world. If they didn’t stop Bael, the crazy motherfucker was going to trash human life, Heavenly life, and Azagoth’s entire world. And once Satan was free, the trash pile was going to get even bigger.
That guy had a score to settle.
“Can you really bring down his security systems?” Lyre asked. “Even with your powers diminished?”
“Yup.” He fired up his baby. “It’s all about the computer. No magic involved.”
She paced around the room, her nerves showing with every quick step, every nibble on her nails. “How long will it be before the soul barrier spells are down?”
He checked the clock on the computer. “If I didn’t screw anything up, we have about ten minutes.”
“Is that enough time to bring down his security systems?”
He tapped his way into Bael’s security backdoor and looked for the trigger Journey had installed. “It should be.”
“Should be?” Her fingers went absently to the aural tucked inside her waistband, covered by her shirt. It was still visible, but it was more likely to be mistaken as a dagger than recognized as a rare, ancient angel-killing stake. “Bael is going to know the moment the protective spells are gone, and he’s going to know who did it.”
“I know.” There was Journey’s backdoor. All Cipher had to do was flip a virtual switch, and every bit of Bael’s tech would fail. If Journey himself had written the program, it would take Bael’s best technicians hours, if not days, to get it up and running again. The Memitim was that good.
“Can Bael repair the spells?”
“I fucked them up pretty bad. If he tries to use the same spells again, they’ll fail. Eventually his sorcerers will try new formulas, but I bought us some time to escape.” He looked over at her. “Your inability to flash out of Bael’s realm is tied to the spell barriers, right?” At her nod, he continued. “Then all you have to do is flash us out of here once they’re down.”
She snorted. “First we have to make it out of the building and across the drawbridge. No one can flash in or out of his castle or the surrounding grounds, and you know he’s going to lock everything down.”
Which was why they’d have to run really, really fast. While being completely inconspicuous.
“We just have to trust that Azagoth will come through,” he said, and she gave a skeptical snort.
“I still don’t understand how you can trust any of those people.”
“Not everyone is out to hurt you, Lyre,” he said softly.
He popped open his message app and shot Hawkyn a note. Glanced at the computer clock. The spells should break outside in 3...2...1.
“It’s time.”
He flipped the switch.
* * * *
“Father!”
Hawkyn ignored Zhubaal’s warnings that Azagoth was not only busy but also not in the best of moods, and he burst into Azagoth’s office.
“I got a message from Cipher,” Hawkyn said breathlessly. “He’s brought down Bael’s security system and the soul barrier.”
Azagoth turned away from the griminion he’d been speaking to. “So I’ve been informed.” He’d probably felt the soul barrier’s collapse himself.
“So what are we going to do? Cipher needs help, and none of us can enter that part of Sheoul.” It was damned inconvenient, too. There were a lot of places inside Sheoul where angels couldn’t—or wouldn’t—go. Most parts of Sheoul, in fact. “Whatever it is, we need to hurry. Bael will have everything up and running again soon.”
And then Cipher
, if he couldn’t escape in time, would die.
“I’ll take care of it.” Azagoth gestured to the little robed griminion, and the critter skittered away.
“Take care of what?” It could be dangerous to question the Grim Reaper, but Hawkyn had found that if he didn’t nail down specifics, Azagoth found loopholes. Azagoth could find a loophole in a straight steel rod.
“Bael.” Azagoth’s voice dipped low, daring Hawkyn to ask another question.
Hawkyn dared. This was too important not to. “What about Cipher?”
“I’ll take care of him too.”
Azagoth’s tone was chilling, and Hawkyn growled. “I want him back alive. Not barely alive. Not mostly alive. Alive and well. With a physical body.”
Crimson streaks flared in Azagoth’s black eyes as his anger and malevolence escalated. “He killed my daughter.”
“No, he didn’t.” Hawkyn dug his phone out of his pocket. “Just before Hawkyn’s message, I got word from the Memitim Council. Amelia was Primori.”
“What?” Azagoth’s shock morphed instantly into doubt and anger. “How can any of my children be Primori?” he snapped. “They’re Memitim. They can’t be both.”
Hawkyn had been as stunned by the news as Azagoth was. As far as he knew, no Memitim had also held the protected status of Primori.
“I don’t know, but the Council confirmed it. Amelia had a Memitim guardian from the moment of her birth. He was taken off the job just hours before she was killed.” When Azagoth just stood there, his fury congealing in his eyes, Hawkyn beat him over the head with the obvious. “Father, she was meant to die.”
And what that meant was anyone’s guess.
With a hiss, Azagoth turned toward the entrance to the Inner Sanctum, but Hawkyn grabbed his arm.
“Please, Father. He’s my best friend.” He tempered his tone, not caring if he sounded like he was begging. Because that’s what he was doing. “Cipher’s been through a lot with me. He’s an honorable male.”
Azagoth shook off his touch but didn’t turn around. When he spoke, he spoke to the wall. “And if becoming a True Fallen has changed that?”