by Tigris Eden
Ω Ω Ω
So much fire. His insides burned from all the energy he’d spent back at the clearing. He barely remembered Dalila being there; he knew she’d touched him, but she hadn’t burned.
She didn’t burn. The car didn’t burn. How is that even possible?
Extreme heat left his body in waves of steam as the energy locked up from his rage attempted to escape his pores. The skin beneath his tongue was heaven. He’d never been tended to by Lana like this before, what had changed? When did he go back to his realm? His brothers must have taken him. He’d always shut down when the heat was too much for him. Gifts from his mother and his dad, his flame was triple the potency that either of them had.
Isaiah tried to control his movements as he feverishly bucked against the Pleasure Angel. She’d never smelled or tasted the way she did now. He’d gladly release multiple waves of energy to have her in his arms. If only the mortal could take care of me this way, Isaiah thought.
Lana was a Pleasure Angel, and long before the Seraphim mated, they had the Pleasure Angels to tend to their needs. Whenever any of them exuded excess energy, they tended to him and his brothers without being burnt to the bone. Raz constantly took pleasure in them, although his burning was a bit different.
Isaiah took a deep breath and nipped the Angel’s shoulder. She wore clothing this time. Usually, Lana liked to attend to him nude, as Isaiah almost always immediately needed release soon after. He’d always wait until the very last minute, ensuring that the burning was complete before engaging her. But this time was different. He needed her now, and he couldn’t wait.
His mind was fogged, and he couldn’t open his eyes even if he wanted to. He hurt everywhere, but the smell of her had dulled some of his pain. Isaiah could smell her arousal, and it was driving him into a frenzy of need.
Lust poured off her in waves. He needed to possess her from behind, ensuring that she knew who controlled her movements. Isaiah tightened his grip on her hip and throat. She was butter in his hands. The water was cool on his skin, and her body was warm to his touch. They were perfect for each other.
“Lana, su tap ma en,” he whispered.
Lana, I never expected to feel this way.
Had he known it could be like this, he would have accepted her offer to breed. He’d felt cold sometimes, and distant from her, but today, something had changed. Everything was different, and it all felt too right.
The collar around his neck vibrated, and Isaiah shuddered and moaned. The vibration alone was a clue: it ran from his neck all the way to his cock. The moment it reached his balls, an orgasm so strong shot from his tip that Isaiah let out a guttural roar. She couldn’t release him, but he could breed with her. The fact that the collar had been triggered was key enough. The only time it activated was right after an expulsion of intense energy and during the flaming period when he reached intense sexual heights. Never before had he released during either moment. The burn would come but would subside after a time and he was able to replenish his energy.
Isaiah pondered that for what seemed like seconds. He quickly discerned a couple of things: the steam had cleared, and he was able to open his eyes. The woman he thought was Lana was Dalila, and she was in tears. Fuck!
He’d just dry-humped...no, wet-humped the mortal. Now, she was either crying because she felt violated, or she was really pissed that he’d called her by another’s name. I can play this off, Isaiah thought quickly. Yeah, it wasn’t like she understood what he was saying. Easy. Lie to the mortal, she would be none the wiser, and then he could tell her that she had no fucking business in the shower with him to begin with.
Isaiah quickly released her, and Dalila jerked away and backed into the corner of the stall.
“Why are you in my shower?” he asked.
“Who the fuck is Lana?”
Isaiah crossed his arms over his chest. The action alone made him wince a bit, he was still tender, and the burning had not completely left him. “Again, mortal, why are you in my shower?” Isaiah arched a brow and gave her his meanest look.
“Again, Seraph, who is Lana? Because clearly you got your wires crossed. I’ll be damned if a man touches me, makes me feel special, and then calls me by another woman’s name. You got me twisted if you think I am going to stand here and take it.”
Well, apparently, she hadn’t noticed that he’d come in his pants; the water was doing a fine job of washing it away.
“Take your fucking pants off,” she snarled.
“Come again?” Isaiah was completely perplexed by her request. Did she want to finish what they’d started?
“Take off your pants. Raz said I had to check your thigh for a spitting cobra, and—”
“Thigh’s fine, and I didn’t call you by someone else’s name.”
Lie. Then lie some more.
“Yeah, you did.”
“No, I did not. You don’t even speak the language.”
“No, but I’m not an idiot either. Now, drop the pants, or I’ll call your brothers in here and tell them what a preemie you are.” She snickered. Actually snickered.
“What the fuck do you mean, preemie?”
Isaiah watched as Dalila crossed her arms over her soaked shirt. The movement alone brought her plump breasts closer together. His eyes lingered there for a moment until Dalila cleared her throat.
“Eyes here.” She dipped her head to eye level with him and then brought him back from his temporary yet lustful insanity. The woman was fucking gorgeous, there was no denying it.
“Remove your damn pants and let me check your thigh. I value my life as much as the next person.”
“What the hell do you mean, you value your life? Nothing is going to happen to you in my care. Stop trying to get me out of my pants, mortal.” She began mumbling under her breath, having a conversation with herself regarding men and their threats. Then she said something that did, in fact, put her life in danger.
“Your brother iced me,” she said louder.
Growling, Isaiah said, “What do you mean iced you?” Dalila stepped farther into the corner. Her back made a splat as she plastered herself against the wall as if it might swallow her up.
Steam started to rise from the shower once again, and Isaiah knew that the marking on his thigh was indeed changing color from its sienna hue to black scales. His tattoo, Uraeus, would be in full form in minutes if Isaiah didn’t slow his breathing. Another gift from his would-be jailor. Each of his brothers had a tattoo of a tracking spirit. His was that of a cobra he called Uraeus. If the snake went full throttle and peeled from his body, someone from the Alliance would dispatch Migos the Handler to come for him. That bastard was a mean motherfucker who took pleasure in other’s pain. To have his snake wake was certain death for Isaiah. He refused to be locked up for exposing himself to the real world. Something you’ve already done. But with his tattoo activated, he wouldn’t be able to conceal his true self from the humans.
He must have been bad off for Raz to threaten her.
I’ll still kill him dead. She’s mortal, she’s delicate.
Shaking off his rage, Isaiah dropped his pants. She wanted to see Uraeus, the cobra? Then he’d let her see.
When the garment hit the floor, Dalila stood closer to the wall. His skin was heating again. It would look flushed at first, then it would turn crimson red if he allowed his rage to control him. Isaiah took several breaths to calm himself and began to back away into the opposite corner of the shower. When his back met the cool tile, the stones hissed at the heat from his back where his wings had parted at the base and spread wide and tall above his shoulders.
Good thing this shower is big enough to house a football team. The steam continued to cloud the enclosed space, and while Isaiah stood trying to calm his nerves, he peered through the steam at Dalila and noticed immediately that blisters had started appearing on her skin.
Chapter 7
Isaiah pulled Dalila from the steaming shower, not thinking clearly. He could have
burned her to death if she weren’t already suffering. He wrapped her in a towel and quickly walked her to his room then laid her gently on his bed, which had also suffered due to his burning.
He had said that he would protect her, and he hadn’t. He hadn’t realized that he would also need to protect her from himself. He raged quite frequently, and although his brothers would not be harmed, Dalila, as a mortal, could.
He gently smoothed her hair from her face, which was now softer than ever. The heat from his body had dried it almost instantly. Her curls were no longer full and springy, but tightly coiled about her head. Isaiah almost laughed. Even with blisters on her face and lips, she was still a vision.
Raz entered the room and stood at the door. Isaiah kept his back to his brother, but shot a glare over his shoulder.
“Don’t you ever touch her, Raz, not with your hands or your mind. Try to scare her into submission again, and we will have unpleasant words, brother,” Isaiah growled.
“I did what needed to be done,” Raz growled right back. “If anyone needs to watch themselves where the mortal is concerned, it’s you. I didn’t leave a bruise or blister on her skin.” Raz walked back toward the front of the house and began a conversation with Grey.
Isaiah scooped Dalila up into his arms and had the bed, as well as its bedding, replaced. One moment, the bed was burned with the sheets melted to the mattress, and the next, there was another clean, fresh, and smoke-free bed in its place. Touching the woman was something he needed to stop engaging in. Isaiah laid her upon the mattress and walked toward the front of the house to join his brothers.
“You should see to the human,” Grey replied when he saw Isaiah approach them in the dining room.
“I will. I just wanted to get my point across to dickhead over there. And also to you,” Isaiah whispered. He was pissed, and he needed to calm himself before he burnt the whole fucking farmhouse to the ground.
“No one—absolutely no one—touches her, Grey. When this is over, you will wipe her. And Raz, if you so much as look at her sideways, I will rip your head from your shoulders myself.”
Isaiah headed back down the hall, breathing harshly. He was being irrational, and he knew it, but he didn’t care enough to stop. Raz was an idiot if he thought that Isaiah would let him play games with Dalila. She was mortal; she was everything and nothing to him at the same time.
Where did that thought come from?
He couldn’t allow such thoughts or ideas to dance through his mind or simmer in his gut, festering like a wound ready to burst.
Isaiah eased into the room and saw that Dalila was resting comfortably in bed. He sent a suggestion of deep sleep so he would have time to figure out what his next move should be. Sensing his brother, Grey, at the door, Isaiah turned to face him.
“We’re leaving and will be back soon to pack up and leave the farmhouse. It’s no longer safe. Raz and I are going to seek different accommodations. I will return for you within the hour, brother. Use that time to rest easy so we may forge a better battle strategy.” Grey turned and headed back toward the dining room where he and Raz took off.
Plan a better battle strategy was fucking right. There was no way he would allow Azazel to get the drop on him. With the four of them working together, they were unstoppable, a force that would wreak havoc in the life of any Demon who dared to try and refute their brand of justice. And Azazel had been judged. If there was ever a chance of salvation, he’d fucking blown it with his stunt in the clearing today.
The Demon fire in Isaiah’s blood roared with appreciation, as did his mother’s blood. It was bad enough that he walked a fine line between good and evil every waking moment of his life. Keeping things under wraps was the only way to control his rebellious temper.
Isaiah ran a hand through his hair, ending at his neck as he squeezed to relieve some of the stress there. He prayed then that his brothers fared better than he did with their inner Demons. He looked down at the sleeping Dalila, then walked over to the edge of the bed and slid in next to her. He stroked her hair and touched her cheek.
If his brothers had to deal with such temptation, would they win the battle between man and beast? Isaiah doubted that because the woman who lay next to him had somehow managed to crawl into his chest and take up residence in his beating heart. A heart that had only beat for justice and order before. Now, it thudded erratically and frantically for this small wisp of a woman who called herself Dalila.
Isaiah lay there enjoying her warmth and softness. He’d never felt a desire to comfort another soul before, but her compassion and courage truly astounded him. She wanted to help him when he was at his weakest. He’d been a dick to her, and knew he’d confused her with his behavior. He would’ve been responsible if something had happened to her. He had realized that the moment the energy released from his body, he would be utterly helpless, but it had been the only way to eliminate the Demons and send them back to the darkness.
He would deal with Azazel later, once his brothers were able to secure another place of residence. This one was now dangerous; anyone could have followed her back to the farmhouse. He hadn’t thought this out as clearly as he should have.
It felt as if Dalila belonged in his arms. He didn’t understand why, but he pulled her tighter into his embrace anyway. He felt connected to her. Something deep within him felt anchored and grounded, tethering him to her as his touchstone. He shouldn’t be entertaining any ideas where she was concerned. It was wrong in so many ways, yet she called to his baser instinct. He was possessive of her. It wasn’t only a physical attraction he felt for Dalila, it was something else. He had never reacted this way to any of the Pleasure Angels. Something must be wrong with him.
War generally made his cock hard, not a woman. Isaiah took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of anise and vanilla. It heated his blood, and he was instantly aware of her chest rising, which made her body hum a soft lullaby to his raging emotions. Battle was the only creature that got him riled. It wasn’t the violence. It was the assurance of victory that made him hard with pleasure. But now, this was a new feeling he couldn’t name. It was almost dark and fierce yet in a good way. Turbulent and sinful in a completely decadent manner.
He remembered how she had looked in the shower, wet from the water, from his advances. He could feel the heat from her pussy. It seared his insides as if he were roasting on a spit over an open flame. Dalila did that to him. He was foolish to think that Lana could ever bring him such pleasure. She never had before.
Dalila turned in his arms, putting her head under his chin to snuggle closer. Isaiah’s arms tightened around her warm body. He was amazed at how easily she put her trust in him. Even if it was unconscious, a deeper part of her recognized that she was safe in his arms. He felt powerful and drunk on the knowledge that she trusted him, regardless of whether she knew it or not.
Being this close to her stirred something deep inside him, things he wasn’t ready to face. Things he didn’t think he’d ever need to face. Because, eventually, she’d have to go back to her other life. One that didn’t include him.
He’d never taken an Angel as a companion, none of the Seraphim had. After the tragedy with Raphael and Seraphina, there was no point. Their mates had been destroyed when Temple Philae was taken over by Lilith and her shadow warriors. They were Seraph Angels; their rules were a bit different, allowed for certain liberties. They weren’t the stuff of beauty and light. Although, their appearance would suggest otherwise. They were dark and beastly. Half-Demon, half-god, they’d all been fathered from the same seed, but their mothers were of different factions. Their very purpose was to tempt and destroy.
Isaiah’s mother was the Egyptian goddess, Sekhmet. She was the goddess of war and healing. She chose isolation after giving birth to Isaiah, and for good reason. She wasn’t in her right mind and confused illusions from reality.
Where most Angels were about love and peace, Isaiah and his brothers doled out punishments and judgments. They were determ
ined and lethal. Isaiah and his brothers were not the ones people looked to for guidance or comfort; they were anything and everything but courteous and loving. For the most part, they were detached warriors, showing nothing toward others. Their true companions dead, there was no reason to love any other. They shared a deep-seated devotion for one another. But that’s as far as their emotions allowed them to go.
But that was before today, before last night.
Before Dalila.
Squeezing her closer to his body, Isaiah took a moment longer to hold her. Her skin felt smoother than silk spun from the rarest of silkworms. Amazed by her, he’d seen many people on Earth in their individual skins and sizes, but Dalila was entirely new to him. As if there was the slightest hint of gold to her skin tone. Literally, he thought there might be specs of gold embedded in her—not too dark, not too light, perfection at its finest.
If he was in a coffee shop, and she was on the menu, she’d be Sexpresso with the lightest helping of cream. Her distinctive smell wasn’t too strong or overpowering. The aroma of anise and vanilla: warm and alluring. Natural.
Dalila began to stir in his arms. Realizing that his brothers would return, Isaiah unfolded her from his tight embrace. Even though he wanted to hold her longer, tighter.
“Dalila, we need to leave. The farmhouse isn’t safe anymore. Grey and Raz will be here soon to collect us. They have secured other lodgings.” She mumbled something into his pillow, and Isaiah let out a laugh. He hadn’t done that in a very long time.
“No, you’re not dreaming, this is truly real. And unless you’d rather stay here in the farmhouse, I suggest you get up so we can get moving.” He slowly lifted her from her deep sleep.
Dalila sprang up and tried to clear her eyes. Isaiah looked over at her, then pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. Why was he being so affectionate with her? Better still, why was it impressed in his mind?
As he held her in his arms, Dalila stiffened and stayed very still. “Why are you being so nice to me?” she mumbled into his chest. She hadn’t pulled away. That must mean she was comfortable there.