Redemption: A Realm of Flame and Shadow Novel

by Christina Phillips

  She grasped the ends of his shirt in her fists and appeared unsure what to do next. Gods, he hoped she opened his pants. His cock was fucking killing him.

  “Take off your shirt.”

  It would be so much easier to do as she asked. To pull her onto his lap and surrender to the lust that scalded his vision and blurred reality.

  “No.” He didn’t even recognize his voice. He sounded like an addict craving his next fix. “You want me naked, you strip me.”

  She dropped the ends of his shirt and slid her hands up his abdomen, her touch light but sure. He instantly regretted his benevolence. Can’t take much more of this.

  “Is your body naturally perfect or do you work out?”

  “Both.” If he gripped the damn chair any harder, it was going to splinter. “How about you?”

  Her fingers halted a whisper from his nipples.

  “Me?” She sounded disbelieving that he could have said such a thing. “My body’s hardly perfect, even if I do go to the gym.”

  He released a pained breath. Why had he thought it a good idea to let her take over? She was talking way too much. She always talked way too much.

  And he would have her no other way.

  Somehow, he ground the words between his teeth. “It’s perfect to me.”

  She stared at him as if he was her entire world, and a strange pain deep inside corkscrewed through his chest. Plenty of females had gazed at him with adoration, but not like this. He couldn’t even place it, only knew it had nothing to do with the mindless worship of an immortal being.

  And then she gave a breathless laugh and stroked her thumbs over his nipples. He damn near came in his pants.

  “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “Yeah.” The word was feral. “Right.”

  She eased his shirt off his shoulders before tugging it from his body and dropping it onto the ground.

  “Do you think …” She trailed off, and he wanted to tell her the time for thinking was past. He didn’t care what she intended, he just wanted her to do it. “Do you think you’ll have any more unexpected visitors? Should we go inside?”

  There was an unmistakable crack as he finally splintered the chair’s arms.

  “No. To both.” He sounded rabid. If anyone did turn up, he’d fucking slaughter them.

  Her smile was strangely sweet as she inched her T-shirt up from her waist, and he watched, riveted, as she pulled it over her head and dropped it on top of his shirt.

  “Wasn’t going to get naked yet.” Her voice was smoky, and it was agony to stay still and not touch. She hooked her thumbs into the band of her shorts. “I was going to make you wait for it.”

  An agonized groan escaped. “You are making me wait for it.”

  She kicked off her shorts, then glided her hands over his rigid thighs, a slow, torturous caress before she finally tugged at his belt. He hitched in a pained breath in a futile attempt to give her some leverage. She was taking forever to release him from purgatory. Was she doing it deliberately?

  She gave a frustrated groan and yanked on his zipper.

  “Fuck!” Still clutching the chair, he reared up, white pain blazing through him. “You damn near castrated me.”

  She slapped her hand across her mouth. His vision was blurred, but he could swear she was on the verge of laughing. Did she think he was joking?

  “I’m so sorry.” The words were muffled. Then she cradled his jaw. “I’ve never manhandled such an impressive weapon before.”

  Godsdamn, she was laughing. He was so staggered even the volcanic throb of his abused cock faded. It had been forever since a simple fuck had been so mystifyingly complex.

  Or so much fun.

  How the hell does this classify as being fun?

  Undignified, yes. And yet he had the crazy urge to laugh with her.

  He unhooked his fingers from the chair, and it dropped to the ground, before releasing the zipper, and relief flooded through him.

  “Despite being immortal, my impressive weapon is also made of flesh and blood. And it damn well hurts.”

  Her smile faded, and he wished he’d kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want her second guessing her every action.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Gabe. It was an accident.”

  “That’s good to know. If it had been deliberate, I’d be in trouble.”

  “Do you want me to …?” She didn’t finish her question, but she didn’t need to. He gave her a wicked grin.

  “Sure.”

  With infinite care, she dragged his pants down his legs before straightening and resting her hands on his shoulders. She nibbled kisses along his jaw, delicate and provocative, and her uneven breath whispered against his skin. He molded the rounded curve of her ass, and she answered his unspoken demand by sinking against him as her mouth fastened on his throat.

  Erotic darts of pleasure thundered through his blood, and even through her bra her erect nipples grazed his chest. He was desperate for her to be completely naked, to feel her skin against his.

  But he’d wait until she was done. Even if it destroyed his sanity.

  She sank to her knees between his thighs and the sight damn near finished him. As though this was the first time a woman had done such a thing, instead of times without number.

  But it was the first time with Aurora.

  She looked up at him through her eyelashes, an intoxicating combination of innocence and wanton seductress. Her rich chestnut hair tumbled around her shoulders, and he fought the desperate urge to plunge his fingers through those silken curls, to hold her close.

  To force her to his will.

  He sat and gripped the shattered chair arms once again.

  “Where did I hurt you?” Her sultry whisper fanned his erection as she took him in her hand, her touch so light as if afraid he might break. He gritted his teeth against the order burning his tongue for her to grip harder. If she wanted to treat him like spun glass, then he would suffer it.

  “Was it here?” Her fingers dusted his length, and a tortured growl rumbled through his chest.

  “Yes.” Not that he could recall now. His entire body throbbed with ecstatic anticipation, which was something he’d not experienced in … eternity.

  He watched, mesmerized, as she bent over him, her hair caressing the insides of his thighs. Her wet mouth brushed against his rigid length, teasing, tasting, but leaving him wanting so much more.

  She pulled back, panting, her head resting on his thigh, her lips parted in blatant invitation, with her hand wrapped around his cock. And he damn near forgot how to breathe.

  “I don’t think my mouth is big enough for you.”

  Somehow, he located his voice. “Your mouth is plenty big enough.”

  Her lips twitched. If she laughed now, he was going to lose what little restraint he retained. Did she really want him to disgrace himself in front of her?

  “A girl could take that the wrong way, you know.”

  He grunted, a primitive sound, but coherent words failed him. She’s going to make me beg.

  Slowly, she licked him, and his control unraveled like cosmic filaments trapped within an intergalactic storm.

  “Aurora.” Her name razed his throat, and he would beg, if that’s what it would take. “For gods’ sakes, let me in.”

  Her hand tightened around him, exquisite agony, and her other hand cradled his aching balls. She shuffled unsteadily between his thighs, and he faintly recalled she was kneeling on hard, unforgiving stone.

  And then he forgot everything as her mouth enslaved him.

  Silken heat enveloped the head of his cock and he reared upward, instinctively, the need to possess pounding through his senses. He plunged both hands through her hair, twisting her curls around his fingers, forcing her along his rigid length.

  Gods, it was exquisite. Her head nestled between his thighs, her hot breath erratic against his shaft as her mouth claimed him. It was agony, but he eased his grip on her head and she slid up
a couple of inches, the friction a new kind of sensual torture. And then her fingers tightened around him, and it took all his willpower not to shove himself down her tempting throat and empty into her.

  He wound her hair around his fists and watched, transfixed, as she worshipped his cock with her mouth and tongue. And still she tortured him with her fingers, trailing them over his rock-hard balls before cradling him in the palm of her hand.

  Fuck, it was too much. And while the image of her on her knees was exhilarating, he wanted to feel her come around him as he pumped into her tight sheath.

  As he claimed her once again.

  * * *

  Aurora

  Aurora could hardly breathe, and was beyond thinking, as Gabe filled her mouth and filled her hands. He tasted of sex and sin, of primal desire and forbidden delights. Her jaw ached already, and they had barely started. But instead of taking what she offered, he pulled out.

  “I haven’t finished.” Her words were jagged, and her jaw didn’t feel as if it quite belonged to her.

  There was a savage glow in his eyes. “Neither have I.”

  God, he was beautiful. Unblemished bronze flesh molded his strong, perfectly defined musculature, and his golden hair brushed his shoulders. He lifted her roughly in his arms, and for one surreal moment, she imagined him unfurling his glorious wings, enveloping her in the magical cocoon of softness and strength, the scent of arousal and devotion intoxicating her senses.

  It’s just a fantasy.

  But it felt so real. As if she was remembering another time …

  Mephisto. Disappointment cascaded through her, even as Gabe hoisted her onto the table. She was only recalling the feel of Mephisto’s wings and imagining how it would feel with Gabe.

  Except it wasn’t that at all. It had nothing to do with Mephisto. The sensation was fading like a distant dream, but the fleeting certainty had been so visceral. So real.

  It’s a memory.

  Gabe palmed her bottom and balanced her on the edge of the table. His gaze scorched her, his touch inflamed, yet goosebumps prickled her skin.

  “Are you cold?” His question sizzled the air, and she clamped her legs around his waist. She was so desperate to feel his wings her mind was playing tricks. But she didn’t need his wings because right now she had him. And he was all that mattered.

  “I’m burning.” She wound her arms across his shoulders and buried her fingers in his glorious hair. “For my archangel.”

  He stilled, and for a heartbeat she saw raw need glowing in his eyes.

  “Then you’d better hold on.” His growl was wild and inhuman, and his cock nudged her, a teasing, tantalizing kiss, but still he kept her waiting.

  “Gabe.” She was begging. She didn’t care. “I need you inside me.”

  His grin was pure evil, forged in heaven and honed in hell, as he pushed into her, inch by magnificent inch, when she desperately craved a brutal possession.

  She gripped his waist in a vise, dug her heels into his taut butt, and lifted herself from the edge of the table. The exquisite stretching of delicate flesh to accommodate his size was breathtaking.

  With an inarticulate curse, he pinned her to the table. Her fingers were still tangled in his hair, and his hands imprisoned her hips. She squirmed helplessly beneath him, but his hold was absolute as her fingernails raked over his head. His big body shuddered, and the knowledge that he was so close to the edge thrilled her soul.

  Her legs hitched higher, clamping around his back, pulling him so close his heartbeat echoed in her ears. Her muscles tightened around his invading length, a mind-blowing caress of silk and flame, and spirals of fire licked through her blood. Reality blurred as he came hard and fast, the pleasure so fierce it bordered on agony. She gripped him tight and forgot how to breathe, how to think. He was inside her, above her, the missing piece of her soul.

  Sensation consumed, enslaved, and only one thought filled her world.

  Gabe.

  Chapter 24

  Aurora

  When Aurora emerged from the bathroom later that afternoon, there was no sign of Gabe. She refused to acknowledge the disappointment that stabbed through her. He had a life outside of this island that didn’t include her, and she wasn’t going to drive herself crazy by second guessing everything.

  She’d continue with her research that Mephisto had interrupted.

  Except he’d smashed the laptop.

  Great.

  Back in the kitchen, a large chest on the terrace caught her eye. Frowning, she went outside and crouched beside it. Dimly, she recalled a thud before Gabe had launched himself at Mephisto. This was obviously what he’d dropped.

  She traced her fingers along the top of the timber chest. They slid into a concealed groove, and before she realized what she’d done, the entire top folded upon itself and disappeared down the back of the chest.

  Shit. Guilt ate through her and she glanced back at the villa, half expecting Gabe to materialize. There was no way she was going to look through his personal possessions. She still felt bad enough that she had discovered that picture.

  Despite her best intentions, her gaze snagged on the contents and her breath caught in her throat. The chest was filled with a child’s beloved toys and books, and items of clothing.

  She sat back on her heels and squeezed her eyes shut. It was like she’d wrenched open Gabe’s heart. Why had she even touched the chest in the first place?

  It was too late to regret that, now. She needed to find out how the mechanism worked and get it shut before he returned.

  Gingerly, she probed the edge of the chest while trying not to look inside. And then he materialized at the other end of the terrace, and she jerked back so fast she almost fell onto her butt.

  He strode toward her, and gibbered excuses raced through her mind as to what she was doing looking through his precious daughter’s possessions. Just because that wasn’t what she’d been doing, didn’t make a lot of difference. It looked bad and she wouldn’t blame him for losing his shit.

  He stepped over the opened chest and placed something on the table behind her before sitting on a chair.

  Okay, then. He was obviously waiting for her defense. Her mind was scarily blank. How pathetic would it sound to tell him she’d opened the chest without meaning to?

  “You have a new laptop.” There was the faintest trace of a tired smile on his face. She had the unnerving certainty he was oblivious to the open chest beside her.

  Bemused, she glanced at the slender package on the table. What am I missing?

  “Uh, good?” Her voice was unnaturally high, and she hitched in a shallow breath, but it had trouble reaching her lungs. Maybe she should just apologize for the chest’s irrational locking system and hope he wouldn’t hold it against her.

  “I thought so.” This time his smile appeared more genuine.

  “Look, I’m really sorry.” She made a feeble waving gesture in the chest’s direction. “I didn’t mean to pry. I mean, I haven’t pried. I haven’t looked at anything at all.” She was gabbling with nerves and sounded as guilty as sin. Because she was guilty, but he didn’t know about the discovery she’d made in his office.

  He shrugged, apparently unconcerned. “It’s okay.”

  Something was very odd about his reaction. She chanced another glance into the chest. Although the toys looked well-loved, they didn’t look that old. Doubt surfaced. Had she jumped to the wrong conclusion?

  But why would he have a chest full of a child’s things if they weren’t his daughter’s?

  She couldn’t help herself. “What is it?”

  “Work related.”

  “What is it that you do?” She’d been dying to know but hadn’t liked to ask before now.

  “I track the missing.”

  She stared at him, entranced. Now this was more like the myths of old. Wasn’t Gabriel the Archangel of Mercy?

  “You mean you’re like a private investigator?”

  Disgust washed ove
r his face. “Do I look like a PI?”

  She had to give him that. “No. But it doesn’t matter what you call yourself. What’s important is what you do.”

  “Don’t get too emotional.” There was a grim note in his voice. “I don’t do it out of the goodness of my heart. My fees are astronomical.”

  For some reason it hadn’t occurred to her that he’d charge a fee. Then again, he had to live, and he’d already told her he amassed fortunes as a hobby. It shouldn’t come as that much of a surprise.

  “I suppose that’s only fair,” she conceded. “You need to cover expenses.”

  “That has nothing to do with it. It’s so potential clients are fully aware of the magnitude of their request.”

  * * *

  Gabe

  “Okay.” She sounded completely baffled. “So, what does that mean, exactly?”

  Why had he started this conversation? It wasn’t something he discussed with anyone.

  But then, Aurora wasn’t just anyone.

  How had it become so complicated between them? He should have kept their association firmly in the zone of savior and victim. Immortal and human. Not let anything else filter through the cracks in his armor.

  Too late now. Maybe she’d back off in disgust if he told her the price his clients were prepared to pay. And maybe then she wouldn’t distract his every waking thought.

  “It means I demand their soul in payment.”

  “You can’t demand a person’s soul.” She sounded incredulous. But she didn’t recoil.

  “Give me one good reason why not.”

  “You’re telling me souls are real?” She pushed herself from the floor and perched on the edge of the chest.

  “Yes.” What other answer was there?

  “But you’re an archangel.” She made him sound like a benevolent god. The literal definition of oxymoron. “I thought the taking of souls was something only the devil did.”

  “Depends what you classify as a devil.” He’d been called that and worse in his time. It was all a matter of perspective.

  She gave a little huh, as though she thought he was joking. He resisted the urge to tell her that he was deadly serious. What did it matter what she thought?