“I can smell your desire, little one, your unchecked want reaches out and grabs my cock in an iron grip.”
The move so swift, Dalila thought she saw a small blue flame. One minute, she was against his body, and in the next, he’d spun her around, and jerked her back by her shirt. Her back now even with his chest, Isaiah bent her forward with the push of his hand, grinding her ass with his erection. She could feel the hard length of him through her soaked jeans. He ground against her in an unrestrained motion, one hand held her down, while the other gripped her hip with bruising force. Her whole body quaked with need, and there was nothing she could do but try to get closer, she needed to be closer. No, you need to adhere to your instructions.
“Hold still damn you,” he growled.
Dalila went completely still in his grasp, yet he continued to push into her through his wrap and into her jeans. Separated by clothing, but not by lust. He was destroying her down to the very last strings of her soul. Dammit, she did not sign on to be groped by the hottie of the year, and the pun was intended, in every sense of the word. Dalila tried to stand, but his grip got tighter. The hand at her waist stilled while the one on her back slid to her neck, pulling her upright with such force the breath she was holding escaped from her mouth, displacing the cloud of steam.
Isaiah wound his large hand around her throat and pulled her head back to rest against his chest. His hand slid down her hip to wrap around her stomach. The heat of his palm seeped into her skin as he held her in place. He trailed kisses down her neck and onto her shoulder. Dalila’s shirt was plastered to her skin, but she could still feel the intensity of his lips and the warmth of his tongue. He would nip and then he licked the sting away. She couldn’t catch her breath, and her heart thrummed out a rhythmic bass that she could feel all the way to her feet. Then he whispered something that not only shattered her soul, but also enraged her heart.
“Lana, su tap ma en.”
Ω Ω Ω
So much fire, his insides burned from all the energy spent back at the clearing. He barely remembered Dalila; she’d touched him but hadn’t burned. She didn’t burn? The car didn’t burn? How was 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 by Lana like this before, what had changed? He always shut down when the heat was too much for him. Gifts from his mother and his dad, his flame was triple the effect either of them had. Isaiah tried to control his movements, as he feverishly bucked against the Pleasure Angel. She 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 she 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 who tended their needs. Whenever any of them exuded excess energy, they were the ones that could tend to him and his brothers without being burnt to the bone. Raz constantly took pleasure in them, although his burning was a bit different from the rest of them.
Isaiah took a deep breath and nipped his 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 the burning was complete before engaging her, but this time was different. He needed her now and he hadn’t been able to wait. His mind was fogged, but he couldn’t open his eyes, even if he’d wanted to. He hurt everywhere, but the smell of her had abated some of the 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 she knew who controlled her movements. Isaiah tightened his grip at her hips and tightened his hold on her throat. She was butter in his hands, the water was cool to 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 was triggered was key enough. The only time it ever activated was right after the burning and during the flaming period, when he reached intense sexual heights. Never before had he released during either time, burning or flaming.
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 just dry-humped...no, wet-humped the mortal. Now she was either crying because she felt violated, or she was really pissed that he called her by another name. I can play this off, Isaiah thought quickly. Yeah, it wasn’t like she understood what he was saying to begin with. Easy. Lie to the mortal, she would be none the wiser, and then he would tell her that she had no fucking business in the shower with him to begin with. Isaiah quickly released her, and Dalila jerked from their closeness and backed into the corner of the shower.
“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 just take it.” Well, she hadn’t noticed that he’d come on his wrap; the water was doing a fine job of washing it away.
“Take your fucking wrap off,” she snarled.
“Come again?” Isaiah was completely perplexed by her request; did she want to finish what they started?
“Take off your wrap. Raz said I had to check your thigh for a spitting cobra, and—”
“Thigh’s fine, and I didn’t call you someone else.” Lie. Then lie some more.
“Yeah, you did.”
“No, I did not; you don’t even speak the language.”
“No, but I’m not idiot either. Now drop the wrap, 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 eye level with his, and then brought him back from his temporary, yet lustful insanity. The woman was fucking gorgeous, there was no other way to say it. “Remove your damn wrap and let me check your thigh. I value my life much as the next person.”
“What the hell do you mean, 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.
Growling, Isaiah said, “What do you mean iced you?” Dalila stepped further into the wall. Her back made a splat as she plastered herself into its corner, as if the wall itself would 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 markings to its black scales. Uraeus would be in full form in minutes, if Isaiah didn’t slow his breathing. 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 the wrap. She wanted to see the cobra, Uraeus? Then he’d let her see. When the wrap hit the floor, Dalila stood closer to the wall. His skin was heating again. It would look flushed at first, then it would go 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 of his back; 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 shower, and while Isaiah stood trying to calm his nerves, he peered through the steam at Dalila and noticed immediately the blisters appearing on her skin.
Ω Ω Ω
Deep under the Pacific Ring of Fire, a beast, more man in form, roared at its captors. He’d been chained to the same wall for longer than he could count. The same word rioted through his head and burned his ears over and over and over again. Kill. Kill. Kill. The one true word he knew, there was no pain, there was no sorrow, only hatred and vengeance. Those two emotions kept the fierce creature strong. The sound of footsteps alerted him, and the beast stilled, listening intently. He heard voices outside his cell, and immediately he began to roar again with fury, banging his head back against the wall, hearing his skull crack repeatedly as the blood dripped down his head and pooled on his shoulders. Kill. Kill. Kill. Debris from the cell wall sprayed him with pieces of rock and dirt. Still the beast roared: mindless, unwitting, deadly. Out of that combination, his captor only got one of the two words right. Deadly. He was deadlier now than he’d ever been before. The food they’d tossed him had been a potent mixture of dead Demon blood and the lifeblood from a source still unknown to his taste. Over time, it healed the almost severed head that now banged forcefully against the wall. At first taste, it had burned all the way down his throat and placed multiple holes in his stomach lining, the fluid leaking from his points of injury. They had tried pouring the hottest of steel down his throat to seal the wounds and make him stronger, only to give him the deadly concoction time and time again. Torture became necessary, as he began his transformation. No longer a man but something else. No desire for life, but a desire and a need to cause death to whoever stood in his path.
Ω Ω Ω
Isaiah pulled Dalila from the steaming shower, not thinking clearly. He could have burned her to death if she wasn’t already suffering due to overexposure to heat. He wrapped her in a towel and quickly walked her to his room and laid her gently on his bed, which had also suffered at his hands due to his burning condition. He had said he would protect her, and he hadn’t, not realizing that he would also need to protect her from himself. He raged quite frequently and although his brothers would not be harmed, Dalila, who was mortal, would. He gently smoothed her hair from her face, which was now softer than ever. The heat from his body had dried her hair almost instantly. Her curls were no longer full and springy, but tightly coiled about her face. 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’s back to his brother, he growled 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 should be you. I didn’t leave a bruise or blister upon her skin.” Raz walked back toward the front of the house and began a conversation with Grey. Isaiah scooped Dalila in up in 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 bed clean, fresh, and smoke-free. 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, you so much as look at her sideways and 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 didn’t care enough to stop. Raz was an idiot if he thought Isaiah would let him play games with her. She was mortal; she was everything and nothing to him at the same time. He couldn’t allow such thoughts or ideas to dance through his mind, or simmer in his gut. He festered 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 that he would have time to figure out what his next move was. 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 that we may find a better battle strategy.” Grey turned and headed back toward the dining room where he and Raz took off from there.
Plan a better battle strategy was fucking right. There was no way he was going to allow Azazel to get the drop on him, and with the four of them working together, they were unstoppable, a force that would wreak havoc in the life of any Demon, who dared try to refute their brand of justice, and Azazel had been judged. If there was ever a chance of salvation, he fucking blew it with his stunt in the clearing today. The Demon fire in his blood roared with appreciation, as did his mother’s blood. It was bad enough he walked a fine line every waking moment of his life between good and evil. Keeping things under wraps was the only way to control his rebellious temper. Isaiah ran a hand through his hair, ending at his neck and squeezed to relieve some of the stress. He prayed then that his brothers fared better than he did with their inner Demons. He looked down at the sleeping Dalila, 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 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. Now it beat 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 wanted to comfort another soul, for as long as he could remember, 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 happened to her. He had realized 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 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.
Dalila felt liked she belonged in his arms. Not understanding why, he pulled her tighter into his embrace. He felt connected to her. Something deep within him anchored and grounded him to her. 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, but something else. He had never reacted this way to any of the Pleasure Angels before; something must be wrong with him. War 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 constantly 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, but the knowledge of victory which made him hard with pleasure. But now there was a new feeling he couldn’t name. It was almost dark and fierce in a good way, yet turbulent and sinful in a completely decadent manner.
He remembered how she looked in the shower, wet from the water, wet from his advances. He could feel the heat from her pussy. It seared his insides, he felt spitted on a staff as his body was being cooked 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, 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 if she knew it or not. Being this close stirred something deep inside him, things he wasn’t ready to face. Things he didn’t think he’d ever have to face, because eventually, she’d have to go back to her other life. A life that didn’t include him.
He’d never taken an Angel for a companion, none of the Seraphs had. After the tragedy with Raphael and Seraphina, there was no point. Their mates were destroyed when Temple Philae was taken over by Lilith and her shadow warriors. They were Seraphim Angels; their rules were a bit different, allowed for certain liberties. They weren’t the stuff of beauty and light. 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. Isaiah’s mother was the Egyptian goddess, Sekhmet; Grey’s mother was Hreja the Valkyrja. It was said his mother travelled on the back of a great black raven. Castiel’s mother was Alecto, one of the meanest of the three Enrinyes. Raz was still a mystery, and although he shared their father’s blood, no one knew who his mother had been, not even Raz himself.
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