by Larissa Ione
Now she’d wonder what he was thinking whenever he looked her way, and she loved it. Half-crazed by his words, she angled her pelvis to give him better access and cried out as his other hand joined the first, one fucking her with fingers, the other tweaking her clit.
“You’re so wet,” he murmured. “You’re going to drench me when you come...”
Pleasure ripped through her, and she came in an explosive blast that took her by surprise and threw her right out of her ever-loving mind. She barely noticed how he bent her forward roughly, urgently, and entered her in a powerful, dominating thrust that banged the headboard into the wall.
She came again before he was fully seated inside her, her walls pulsating around him, grabbing him.
He ground his hips into her, cursing, shouting, his fingers scoring her hips.
Bucking against him, she begged for more, demanded more, and he gave it to her. Lifting her hips so her knees came off the mattress and limited her control, he drove into her with powerful thrusts, shoving her toward the headboard with every slap of his thighs against hers. Pressure built as each wild stroke of molten friction reduced her to a mass of quivering need.
She screamed into the pillow as the stinging heat of release tore at her again. His primal shouts joined hers, and his hot jets filled her even as her breath left her.
As she collapsed onto the mattress, him on top of her, all she could think was that he was as perfect and rare and special as an expertly cut, flawless diamond. A girl’s best friend, for sure.
How many girls had considered him a flawless diamond?
Not that it mattered, she supposed, but still, the thought might as well have been a cold shower.
“Hey.” He shifted his weight, rolling onto his side but keeping one hand on her back, massaging gently. “You okay?”
How had he known? “Yeah.” She smiled and turned over. “I’m just wondering what we’re doing.” Her face heated as she glanced at his fabulously naked body. “I mean, besides the obvious.”
With a heavy sigh, he flopped onto his back and stared at the wood beams in the ceiling. “I don’t know. I didn’t expect to be so...enamored of you.”
“Enamored?” She grinned, basking in the compliment. But something about the way he said he hadn’t expected to be enamored with her left her unsettled. Maybe it was nothing. But what had he expected? And why had he had any expectations of a stranger at all?
“Enamored,” he agreed, but he didn’t sound too happy about it, leaving her with even more misgivings. “It’s strange because I only needed one thing from you...and this wasn’t it.” He turned to her, his gaze locking with hers with such intensity that it stole her breath. “You’ve taken care of me when you didn’t need to. You protected me from Shrike when you didn’t have to. You even fed me and trusted me to bring you here. Why?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I usually avoid your type, but I was just...drawn to you, I guess.”
Plus, if she was going to get out from under Shrike’s dinner party curse, she needed help, and Razr had offered. Granted, it might only be because he wanted her to “find” the two remaining Gems of Enoch, but still. She didn’t have any other allies at this point, one of the downsides of only having human friends.
“My type?”
“Otherworldly,” she explained. “Demons, shapeshifters, weres, angels, fallen angels.”
He leveled an are-you-kidding look at her. “Ah, I hate to break it to you, but you’re an otherworlder too.”
“Elves don’t consider themselves part of your world. We identify more with humans. More of us live in the human world than in the elven one, in fact.”
“Why is that?”
Faintly, from somewhere outside, she heard a whistle and someone yell, “Foul!” The Memitim playing some sort of sport, she guessed.
“The elven realm is kind of...unreal. It’s like living in a medieval dream.” She reconsidered that. “Well, a clean, cheery medieval dream.”
Razr gasped in mock horror. “Sounds awful. I can see why you guys would rather live in the human realm.”
She laughed, enjoying this exploratory time with him. It was easy to talk to him, something she’d never been able to do with her human lovers. “What’s your favorite food?”
“What does that have to do with life in...what? Middle Earth? Shannara? I don’t know...Pandora?”
Torn between annoyance and amusement, she settled for shaking her head in exasperation. “Just tell me your favorite food. Maybe a dessert. Also, Pandora doesn’t have any elves.”
“The Na’vi have pointed ears,” he shot back with a playful grin that tugged at her heart. “And salted caramel pie.”
That did sound tasty. “Well, imagine your diet consisted of only salted caramel pie. That’s it. Every day. And imagine having nothing to do but look for gemstones. Everything around you is perfect and bright and people rarely even argue.” Mostly, elves just vacationed in their realm or lived like American snowbirds, people who summered in a northern state and wintered in a southern one. “It’s nice to visit and recharge, but peace is tedious, and living in the chaos of the human world is, in its own way, more rewarding.”
His expression turned contemplative. Maybe a little sad, and she wanted to hug him.
“I get that,” he said softly. “Heaven is kind of like that. People argue––angels are hotheads––but for any kind of real challenge or entertainment, you have to get out of there.” He smirked, and her heart tugged again, harder. She loved the playful side of him. “That’s why I know about Pandora and Dobby and Shannara. Humans might be inferior creatures, but man, they know how to tell a story.” Reaching out, he trailed a finger around the shell of her ear, and she shivered with delight. “What do you tell them about your Spock ears?”
“Nothing. Their selective cognizance renders them blind to our physiology unless we point it out or they’re already familiar with the otherworld.”
“So...do you date humans?” He made it sound like he was asking if she dated dung beetles.
“Since I live in the human realm, humans do tend to make up the majority of the dating pool.” Although she had dated a werewolf once. Just once. They were grumpy as hell.
“So that’s a yes.” There was an underlying note of, what...jealousy, maybe?...in his voice that both flattered and annoyed her. “Are you dating someone now?”
The annoyance turned to anger, and she levered into a sit. “I wouldn’t be here if I were, and if it bothers you, maybe you should have asked before we fucked the first time.” She started to swing her legs out of bed, but he captured her wrist and held her back.
“Wait. You’re right. It’s just that I didn’t expect this to happen. I figured I’d meet you, have the gemstones within a few hours, and I’d be back in Heaven by now.”
She felt like she’d been kicked in the gut. “Back in Heaven? So soon? Don’t Unfallen have to save the planet or perform some great heroic act or something?” Lilliana had been pretty clear about that. It wasn’t easy to get back into Heaven, and according to her, only a handful of Unfallen ever had.
He flinched. The barest twitch of his facial muscles, but it was there. “I’m not Unfallen.” His voice was gruff, as if he had to force the words out, and an uneasy feeling tightened in her chest. Where was this going? “I was tossed out of Heaven and put into Azagoth’s service, but I can earn my way back into Heaven if I complete my mission. I can end the torture of the Azdai glyph and throw away that damned cat-o’-nines I carry around. I just need the Gems of Enoch to do it, and only you can help me.”
It was her turn to flinch. She couldn’t help him. It was impossible. “Surely there’s another way you can earn your way back into Heaven,” she said desperately. “I can help you with anything else. Anything. You name it.”
“It has to be the Gems of Enoch.” His voice was as rough as the floor of a mine shaft. “One of them, at least. The Ice Diamond. I need it.”
“Why?” Immediatel
y after she asked, the tightness in her chest became excruciating, and she realized she didn’t want to know.
Dark shadows flitted in his eyes as he held up his hand. The ring on his finger, the one that had previously sported what she’d believed to be a black diamond, now shone with a familiar silver-blue light. His words from back at her house when she’d asked him what he’d done to get thrown out of Heaven screamed through her brain.
“I was part of an elite demon-slaying team. We got careless one day, and our carelessness cost lives and property.”
Oh, gods. Oh, no. Oh, please, no.
But no amount of pleading or denial changed what, deep inside, she knew to be the truth.
“Because its loss is why my wings were bound and my powers were stripped. It’s why I have to be flogged half to death and why I was kicked out of Heaven.” He spoke through clenched teeth, his voice thick with emotion. “That gemstone is mine, and I want it back.”
Chapter Ten
Razr had fucked up. Big time.
Oh, he didn’t regret telling Jedda that the stone he’d wanted her to “find” belonged to him. She’d either cop to having it or she wouldn’t. What he regretted was that he’d let this get personal. He’d gotten too close to her, and the crazy thing was that he didn’t even know how it happened. Or when.
All he knew was that when she’d started talking about dating humans, he suddenly wanted to find every one of her past lovers and put them in the ground while he was still considered enough of a fallen angel to get away with it.
And now his feelings were going to make shit real fucking awkward if she didn’t admit to sending his Enoch gem to Scotland for safekeeping.
After dropping the truth on her like a two-ton bomb, he let her process the news. As he showered––alone––he told himself that he hadn’t given her even a second to respond because he’d needed to clean up. But the truth was that he didn’t want her to lie to him. He’d give her time to do the right thing on her own.
Please do the right thing.
His chest tightened as he considered what would happen if she did hand over the stone. He’d go back to Heaven, and she’d... Well, she’d be stuck on Earth, dating inferior human men and scouring the planet for valuable stones for evil assholes like Shrike.
Shrike. Shit. Razr was going to have to do something about that douchebag. The original plan had been to placate the guy with the crystal horn, which Azagoth had agreed to give up under one condition: That even after Razr had been restored as Razriel, he would continue training the Memitim twice a month.
For the next century. And after the century of work was up, he wanted the crystal horn back.
No, Azagoth didn’t give away anything for free or out of the goodness of his black heart. The Grim Reaper put a price on everything, and he always got the better end of the bargain.
After showering, Razr turned the bathroom over to Jedda, intentionally keeping the conversation limited so they didn’t have to discuss his Enoch gem. Yet. While she showered, he dressed in the only clothes besides his burlap robes he had, the faded Levi’s, plain black T-shirt, leather jacket, and black boots he’d worn to Scotland. He didn’t need much since he rarely left Sheoul-gra, after all.
Jedda came out of the bathroom in the outfit she’d worn here yesterday: black skinny jeans, an oversized jade button-down shirt, and leather ankle boots. Her wet hair hung in a cascade of shimmering silver-blue down her back, a few strands curling around her chin and flushed pink cheeks. Her delicately pointed ears peeked out from the curtain of hair, and if he hadn’t seen the elf in her before, he did now.
Was it really true? In the library last night before his Azdai glyph had demanded a sound whipping, he’d asked Azagoth and Hades if they were aware of the existence of elves. Hades scoffed at the notion, but Azagoth had been less skeptical.
“I’ve heard tales of their realm,” Azagoth had said, “supposedly shared by fairies, as well. But if they exist, their deaths aren’t governed by demon law.”
“Meaning you’ve never had an elf soul come through Sheoul-gra,” Razr mused, disappointed in Azagoth’s answer. He’d hoped the ancient fallen angel who seemed to know everything would have some insight into Jedda’s story.
Azagoth had confirmed the fact that he’d never seen an elf soul...and then he promptly flogged the hell out of him.
Razr couldn’t fucking wait to be done with this shit.
“So what now?” Jedda shifted her weight with uncharacteristic nervousness as he finished tying his boots. She had to be wondering what to tell him about the diamond. She might even be wondering if he knew she had it.
“Now we grab the crystal horn and get a bite to eat. We can plot our next move over breakfast.” Hopefully, her next move would be to tell him she had his gem, but one thing at a time.
She offered him a fragile smile. “Sounds good.” She glanced over at the closet and then back at him. “Why is your closet full of robes? Is that your uniform down here?”
He went so taut that even his brain shut down for a second. He’d never told anyone about them. Not even Azagoth.
Back at Jedda’s apartment, she’d mentioned that he didn’t seem damaged, but those robes... Those were his damage. No, he wasn’t broken and bitter like so many fallen angels, but he carried scars and remorse like everyone else, and sometimes self-flagellation was more effective than anything others could do to him.
“Razr?” She moved closer, until he could smell the pine-scented soap she’d used in his shower. “What is it? You can tell me.”
“Can I?” He stood, towering over her in a move meant not to intimidate, but to make an impression. “If I tell you, will you promise to give me a straight answer when the time comes?”
She blinked, confused and caught in a trap. If she said no, she’d be admitting she had something to hide. If she said yes, she’d be obligated to tell the truth no matter what he asked.
“I...ah...of course.”
He swung open his apartment door and ushered her out. His voice was mortifyingly hoarse when he spoke. “The robes aren’t a uniform. I choose to wear them because they’re abrasive and painful on my back when it’s sensitive from the floggings, and they constantly remind me why I’m here.”
Sometimes, when his guilt was extra intense, he’d actually give himself a lash or two, just so he felt more pain. But that little shameful secret was his and his alone.
He felt her eyes on him as they exited the dormitory building and walked across the lawn to Azagoth’s manor.
“Doesn’t being here remind you of that?”
“It isn’t enough,” he snapped, years of regret and anger spilling into his words. “People died because my team and I lost valuable weapons in the fight against demons.” He mounted the massive staircase, his booted feet clanging loudly in the still air. “If we don’t recover my diamond, the garnet, and the bracelet that goes with it, we’ll be that much weaker in the Final Battle. Worse, if those stones fall into the wrong hands, they could be used for evil.”
As they entered the building he glanced over at Jedda, who looked a little green. Now she really looked like an elf.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was ragged and her eyes haunted, and he wondered what she was thinking. What she was feeling. Guilt, maybe?
Inhaling deeply, he calmed himself, forcing the past behind him. For now.
He paused in front of the room they had been about to enter yesterday before Hades summoned him to Azagoth’s library. “You’re going to love it in here.”
“I know.” Shadows still flitted in her eyes, but her skin had brightened with excitement, glittering faintly in the light from the sconces on the walls. “I can already sense the power emanating from at least a dozen gemstones.”
He threw open the door, and she didn’t wait. She was practically a blur as she raced around the room, stopping in front of various display cases and stands. Some things she touched, some she avoided, and when she saw the crystal horn she both smile
d and backed away, muttering something about quartz crystal and kryptonite. She reminded him of a delicate hummingbird, flitting from treasure to treasure, and when she finally came to rest at a brilliant ruby the size of her fist, he joined her.
“This one practically vibrates with power,” she whispered. “It’s so evil, but so…tempting.”
He remembered what she’d said about some stones acting like drugs on her species, and he wondered if she was falling under the ruby’s intoxicating spell.
“That,” he said, as he peered at the gemstone from over her shoulder, “was given to Azagoth by Lucifer himself.”
She jerked back with a hiss. “Satan?”
He was close enough to feel her heat and smell her natural, spicy scent beneath the artificial pine of his soap, and his cock stirred to life again. Not that he could do anything about it here, in Azagoth’s plunder room. Disrespecting the Grim Reaper landed you in the statue room as a living work of grotesque art.
“Satan and Lucifer are two different people,” he told her. “Lucifer is dead, but some say his spirit lives on in that stone.” It wasn’t true––Azagoth would know if that were the case. But it was hard to kill rumors like that.
And sometimes, you didn’t want to kill them. You wanted to encourage them.
“So much malevolence in that one.” Jedda shuddered and moved on to the slightly smaller blue topaz next to the ruby. “This one, too. My sister Manda would have loved it.” She turned to him, her expression troubled, her crystal eyes glassier than usual. “Don’t let Azagoth trade these, or sell them, or give them away. They’re dangerous.” She swallowed. “Really dangerous.”
“I don’t have much influence over him, but I’ll tell him what you said.”
She nodded absently and moved on to the next gem, a grape-sized tanzanite that sparkled atop its black velvet base. Closing her eyes, she trailed her finger over the shiny surface. “This one is incredibly powerful. Full of neutral energy. So much that an elf could absorb it, but the stone itself would have to be warehoused.”