by A. J. Norris
“Elliott!” she screamed. He didn’t listen. The porous membrane between the realms slowed him, although not enough. “Elliott!”
The ground looked like a patchwork quilt when they broke through the transparent gateway. When she yelled again, Evita swallowed clouds. She coughed. He tumbled through the air directly beneath her. She caught a glimpse of his eyes. They were flat and emotionless.
A male’s voice above her hollered at the other angel.
Elliott won’t stop, she thought.
They were closer now to a clearing in the middle of a forest hiding them from the rest of the world. The other angel with long brown hair torpedoed ahead of her but it was a short-lived burst and not nearly enough. She flapped her more powerful wings, overtaking him. Gale force winds knocked him away. Reaching out, Evita grabbed Elliott’s wing and flung him toward the other male. She smacked the ground and it cracked and fissured beneath her.
“Evie…Eve?” Virgil was kneeling in front of her, his brows pulled together at the bridge of his nose.
“How long was I wrapped up in my own head?” she asked. He didn’t answer so she figured at least a few minutes or more. Evita sagged her shoulders. “Tell me something. Before I fell, when was the last time we saw each other?”
Virgil plucked grass blades from the dirt and chucked them aside. “I was away from Arcadia. On task.”
“So you didn’t know right away?”
“I didn’t know for a day.”
“Who told you?”
“Joelle.”
“Where was Elliott?”
“Joelle tried to take the blame for him. I knew better.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. They’re friends.” Virgil smiled with his mouth closed.
“Doesn’t he know now?”
“More than likely.”
“You’re forgiving.”
Virgil chuckled. “I’ve been accused of making others look bad.”
Evita laughed too. She cradled his cheek in her hand and brushed the corner of his lips with her thumb. Closing his eyes, he pushed his head into her palm. For a moment, he looked serene and more angelic than any other male, and he was an angel. How was this possible? And how was it possible she couldn’t imagine being with any other male? She liked the feel of his soft beard too.
“I know why I fell in love with you.”
He kept his eyes shut and whispered, “Tell me.” Rotating his head, he kissed her palm. His reverence for her stirred Evita’s passion.
Her core temperature rose, spreading heat throughout her body. “I…” She forgot to breathe. She forgot how she still couldn’t remember him. None of that mattered right now as he took her hands.
“You’re trembling.”
“Am I?” Evita hadn’t noticed. He inhaled sharply then leaned forward. Her insides quivered. “Are you going to kiss…” Their lips met. His kiss landed off center but he adjusted. Her mouth opened as he pushed the tip of his tongue inside. She could tell he was holding back. Grasping the nape of his neck, she urged him upright, although still on their knees so no distance was between them. Kissing like they were, with their bodies together, his manhood hardened and pressed into her hip. She didn’t freeze like when he kissed her before on the couch, though her stomach fluttered.
Virgil broke the kiss. They both breathed hard. He whispered in Arcadian, “Only when you’re ready, my love.”
She didn’t want him to stop. She ran her hands up the inside of his wings. He purred and kissed her again. Her body melded into his and before she knew what was happening they were on the ground with him cradled between her thighs. He scooped his hand under one half of her bottom, grinding against her. She inhaled sharply. When he suckled and kissed her neck the tension in her muscles eased.
“Are you good or do you—uh!” His words were cut off by a gasp when she rocked her hips.
Evita giggled.
***
Virgil
Virgil’s head spun. His female’s laugh was the greatest sound in the entire universe. How was he supposed to behave himself with that going on? He loved her. He wanted her. Their hips moved up and down in rhythm. An involuntary moan passed through his lips. Evie laughed some more.
“Think I’m…humorous, do you?” he asked breathlessly.
“It’s a delicious noise.”
His heart sang. She always told him how much she loved the sounds he made during lovemaking. “I’m glad you approve.”
“Do it some more.” She covered her face with her hand. “Oh Deus, I can’t believe I said that.”
“Don’t be shy. Never with me.” He kissed the back of her hand. “I’ve seen every inch of you,” he squeezed her butt and she gasped, “and done many things with this beautiful body.”
“Like what?” she squeaked.
“I can show you one if you’ll allow me.”
“Um…I, uh…”
“I won’t hurt you, I promise. We’ve been intimate countless times. I know what you like.” At least he hoped so. There was no reason to believe her preferences had changed.
Evie nodded. “Okay.”
Virgil closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He could taste her honey already. After kissing her for a few more minutes, he inched down her body.
“Where are you—”
“Shh…I’m not going anywhere.” Her skin was soft against his lips as he kissed the space over her heart. The low V-neck dress made for easy access. Evie’s natural scent filled his nose. Slowly, he slithered down until he had positioned his head above her sex. The jade green dress she wore had ridden up her legs, exposing her lacy panties. He pushed the skirt further out of his way. One of her hands patted around until she found his hair. “Evie, if you wish to stop—”
“No. I wanted to make sure…I dunno.”
“Would it help if you held my hand?”
She clasped his hand. “You know me, don’t you?”
“I do. And I want you to know that you are safe with me.”
She nibbled on her bottom lip. He let her get settled then kissed her, right on top of her panties. Near her most sensitive part. She sucked in air and gripped his hand tighter. After a second kiss, he used his other hand and ran a finger along the inside top of her underwear. Evie tensed, although she moaned her approval. He curled his hand around the waistband and bared more of her.
Virgil wanted his tongue inside her. He turned his head to the side for a moment.
“Is there something wrong…down there?” she asked.
“I want you…to taste you.” He licked his lips. “Can I…” his voice cracked, “take these off you?”
“All right.”
He didn’t take them off, he tore a hole in the crotch, a rip from the back to front elastic scalloped hems. Tossing her legs over his shoulders, Virgil licked up the center of her core.
“Oooh,” she inhaled.
His knuckles cracked as she squeezed his hand. The pain only registered in the back of his mind because his focus remained solely on her. He thrusted his tongue past her pink folds. She arched her back off the ground.
Her reaction brought a smile to his face. He alternated between gently kissing and licking and sucking at the apex of her legs. The flavor of her filled his mouth. He moaned. She squirmed and undulated her hips. Virgil teased her opening with a finger while he flicked his tongue over her clit. He wondered how far she’d allow him to go. Sex wasn’t going to happen tonight. Doing that required the right setting.
“That feels…that feels—oh Deus!” she shouted.
“Should I stop?” he asked and swallowed hard. “I don’t have to use my fingers. If that is—”
“That’s what that was?” She sounded out of breath. “Don’t stop.”
Sliding one finger in, he studied her face for any signs of discomfort. Slowly, he glided his finger out and then back inside a few times. When she arched her back and said his name, he added a second finger. His hand found a steady pace. Her inner
walls pulsed and squeezed until she screamed, “Virgil!” He helped her ride out her orgasm. He wiped his mouth and chin then laid on his side, curled around her. Jagged breaths came out of her and she sat up. A shuddering sob left her throat.
“Why are you crying, my love?” He sat up and put an arm around her shoulders.
“I don’t know.”
“I overwhelmed you.” He should have listened to his conscience; she hadn’t been ready…
“Y-yes…but in a good way.”
He smiled crookedly. “Oh.” Thank Deus.
“Did we do that a lot? Because I wanna do that a lot.”
Virgil chuckled, burying his face in the crook of her neck.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Amalya
This baby could come anytime now. Amalya wanted her body back, she was so sick of being pregnant, even though she lived with a constant twinge inside her heart that would only worsen after her son was born. More unsettling was that Elliott had decided they shouldn’t name him. Their child needed a name, regardless of what happened after she gave birth. She laid propped by a couple of pillows on the bed. The baby moved inside her, stretching her rounded belly.
“He’s pushing on me again.” When she glanced over at her mate, he smiled and looked up from the book he was reading. “Feel,” she said, grabbing his hand. She held it to her stomach. His eyes became glassy before he looked away. “Can I ask you something?”
“Amalya, I—”
She waved him off. “I’m not going to ask why you’re so miserable. I get it.” She released his hand. “Did you name Jeremiah before or after his birth?”
“Before,” he whispered. He bit a fingernail, a sign of stress for him.
Amalya breathed deeply and closed her eyes for a second. “I wanna name him.” Elliott opened his mouth to protest. “No. I want our baby to have a name. From us.”
Elliott dragged his palms down his face. “I know the baby needs a name.”
“Don’t you mean he needs a name?”
“That’s what I said.”
“No, you said the baby…” Her eyes filled with tears. “He’s our baby,” her voice wavered, “and he’s your son.”
“I know the baby’s mine.” A chewed nail shard flew across the room.
“Did you hear what you said? Will you stop that…please?”
Elliott glanced at his hand and got off the bed like he was going somewhere. Instead he leaned his forehead on the back of the bedroom door. “Amalya, this is…you have no idea what it’s like to have a child taken from you. The child that you were supposed to take care of, nurture, teach. I prayed for a girl. I’m so fucking scared.”
“Well, how do you think it is for me? I’m the one who’s carried him for nine months!” Her whole body shook from the inside out. The room was hotter now. “Oh, God…I don’t care what I have to do. I’m keeping hi—uh…” Sitting up, she grabbed her side. A shooting pain traveled from her groin to her lower belly on one side. Elliott rushed the bed.
“What is it?”
Amalya took a couple of deep breaths, in through her nose and out her mouth until the little guy kicked. “I think he’s okay.”
Elliott groaned quietly then huffed. “I’m calling Max.”
“No. It’s fine. See? No more pain…I got upset is all.” He shook his head and took his cell phone off the nightstand. “This is silly. Don’t call him for a cramp.”
“How do you know it’s only a cramp?”
“Because he told me that I would know if I was in labor.”
He put the phone to his ear. “Max. It’s Amalya, she might be…” Elliott paused. “Yep. She thinks it’s just a cramp though.” He listened to Max again before ending the call.
“What did he say?” she asked. Elliott knelt on the bed, took her hands, and studied her face. “Well?”
“He’s coming over to have a look at you.”
Amalya shook her hands out of his. “Fine.” She edged off the bed.
“Where are you going? I think you should—”
“I have to pee.”
Elliott came around and offered his assistance to her. She accepted his hand and squeezed it tightly.
When she returned from her eightieth bathroom trip of the day Elliott was biting his nails and pacing.
“I thought you quit biting your nails?”
He stopped and glanced sideways in her direction. “Well, I guess I didn’t.”
She opened her eyes wider for a nanosecond. “I guess.”
“Hello?” Max called from the hallway.
“In here,” Elliott answered. The door creaked open.
Max ushered her toward the bed, where she sat down on the end. “Tell me about this cramp you experienced.”
“It went away. I’m sure it was one of those Braxton Hicks things.”
“Are you a Healer?”
She sighed. “No.”
He made her lay on the bed. “A few more days and your son will be overdue. I need to check if you’re dilated. Put your knees up.” Max narrowed his eyes on Elliott. “You gonna be okay with this?”
Her mate nodded. The Healer left her nightshirt in place. Amalya stared at the ceiling and exhaled. Max snapped on a pair of latex gloves he manifested. Elliott growled; she wondered if he was even aware of it. He stood sentry with his hands on his hips.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you with purple hair before,” she said while Max was doing his thing. “Or I guess it’s more lilac.”
He smiled. “Matches my Seraphina’s eyes.”
“Aww. When are we going to meet her?”
“I’ve asked her to assist me during the delivery.” Max got off the bed and took the gloves off. “You’re dilated about a centimeter.”
“I’m in labor!” The air rushed out of her lungs all at once.
“Take it easy, I didn’t say that. You could be like this for days.” Max stepped away from the bed.
“Why is everyone always telling me to take it easy?” Tears stung the back of her eyes. One step closer to losing her baby wasn’t what she needed to hear right now. Elliott had never brought up the conversation she’d overheard between him and Joelle. And she hadn’t mentioned it because she’d been afraid to find out what scheme her mate’s best friend had come up with that probably wouldn’t work anyway.
Elliott sat on the bed next to her with his legs crossed. He smoothed some black feathers along the outer edge of her wing. She closed her eyes and concentrated on keeping her breathing even. “I want Jeremiah there when his brother is born and I want to name him now,” she said. Tears flowed over her cheeks and onto the pillow beneath her head.
They sat in silence for a few moments.
“May I suggest a name?” Max asked.
Amalya smiled. “Of course you can.”
“Killian. It means fierce.”
She placed her hands on her belly, comforting herself and her unborn son. “Oh, I really love that. Elliott?”
“Uh huh. If that’s what you want, sweetheart.”
She sniffed. “Well, that’s enthusiastic.”
Elliott’s brows knitted together. “It’s a nice name.”
“It’s a great name! Max, thank yo—” Max was no longer in the room.
Damn.
He’d left her to deal with Elliott’s depressing mood all on her own.
“We could call him Ian for short,” she suggested.
He shrugged and smiled for a split-second without joy.
“Talk to me. You’re wallowing.”
“I’m not wallowing.” Her mate laid back on the bed and rolled onto his side, facing the wall. Why did she always have to be the stronger one in this relationship? She too turned over. Killian shoved a foot into her ribs. The little male already had his father’s moodiness.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
Evita
Evita stared up at the Milky Way. She lay on her back with her head cushioned by Virgil’s arm. He rubb
ed lazy circles on her stomach with his fingertips while staring down at her.
“I want to take you home,” he said.
“It is getting late. Elliott and Amalya might worry if…” Virgil pointed to the sky. “Oh, yeah right, home.” She grinned. Evita could only imagine how Arcadia must have changed since falling. Earth certainly had changed significantly. They’d spent most of the day getting her acquainted with the various inventions like cars, TV, microwaves, and the coffeemaker back at the apartment.
“It’s still the same,” he said, answering her unspoken question.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that. How does that work anyway? How do you know what I was thinking?”
“It starts with an emotion and builds until I see things through another person’s eyes.”
“Can you turn it off?”
“With enough alcohol.” He chuckled.
“I don’t think I know anyone else with this gift.”
“That’s what you think it is?” He snorted. “Try punishment.”
“What were you punished for?”
Virgil chuckled. “I wasn’t being serious but it feels like one at times.”
“I think you’d miss it if the ability suddenly disappeared.”
“Perhaps.” He lifted the arm under her head, indicating he wanted to move. She sat up, allowing him to stand. Once he was on his feet, he offered his hand to her. Evita smiled at him and placed her hand in his. “Shall we?”
“Yeah. I’m ready to go home now.” She beat her wings and shot straight into the air. When she looked down, Virgil still stood on the ground. He waved her back to Earth.
“Let’s use the other portal,” he told her.
“Oops.” She sucked in a breath between her teeth. “Where is it exactly?”
“Follow me. Head south toward—”
The terrified scream of a female broke through the serene clearing followed by tree branches snapping and cracking. A flock of birds flew out of the trees, swooping around them. Virgil and Evita ducked until the wrens spiraled in a funnel shape toward the sky, squawking.