by Lexi Ostrow
The conversation stopped, and Odette wanted to shout for Lucius to come back. He would be needed to stop her because she knew her weakness would subside the moment she tasted Philippe’s blood.
“Odette, I’m coming in.” A note of caution laced Philippe’s voice, and she tried to scoot further backward.
“Philippe, don’t. Please don’t. I can hear your heartbeat and practically taste your blood. It’s too late.”
“It’s never too late. Your blood father said you would have two weeks. He would not mistake that timeline; it would come at too great a cost.”
She heard the door slowly open, and her eyes widened in fear as she tried to control the burn in her body. He filled the small doorway, and a growl ripped from her. She was running towards him, her body still slow, but need overriding the weakness.
He didn’t flinch as she threw herself on him. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. His hands came around, and he held her close. She sobbed, knowing for certain he thought she was crying from seeing him.
Her tears were because she knew there was no way she would not feed from him. She tried to force her jaws shut, but there was nothing she could do stop the action as her mouth opened.
In a flash, she struck. Her fangs sunk into the firm muscle in his neck and blood spilled into her mouth. Warmth flooded inside onto her tongue and dripped down her throat. Her moan of pleasure mirrored the feeling of fulfillment with every pull of blood that she took into her. She wanted to pull back at the taste, but she felt her body inflame with lust. She wasn’t certain what was happening, she couldn’t process the situation.
He wasn’t fighting her. In fact, his arms remained wrapped around her, holding her to him as she sucked his blood into her mouth.
Please stop me, Philippe, please.
Tears tumbled down her face, and she felt them against her cheek as she drank, but still he did nothing. She was going to kill him, and he was going to let her.
His grip changed, and his fingers dug into her side as he tried to pull her back. She was latched too deeply into his neck, and he must have felt it because he didn’t pull harder.
“Odette, you need to stop.”
His words barely reached her as she continued to drink. She needed to remain in control. She was screaming in her head, but she wasn’t responding to herself. Her lips suckled his neck as her mouth continued to take pull after pull of his blood. His voice was too far away to understand. When his hands reached around her shoulders, gently trying to tug her away from his neck again, she growled with her lips still against his neck.
“Odette! Odette, its Philippe. I need you to stop before you drain me dry.” Still no hint of emotion in his voice.
Come on, Odette. Stop, you’ve drunk. Just stop.
She pulled her fangs from his neck but didn’t unlatch her mouth. Blood flowed from the wounds, and she licked and lapped at it until Philippe’s strong arms pulled her backwards.
He needed to stop her. She was like a wild animal, although beautiful. He tried harder and harder, but it was no use. He wanted to tell her he loved her, and he was sorry he hadn't taken better care of her.
When he finally pulled her off his neck, he couldn’t worry about stopping the blood flow. Fangs could go deep, but rarely caused a fatal injury if they didn’t tear the vein open, which thankfully, she hadn’t.
Her eyes were wild, and she was struggling in his grip to get away. Her snarls and growls were unnerving, because of what they signified, not the actual sounds. Her eyes were as black as Lucius’ and held as much humanity as his did when he grew angry.
There was a chance she was entirely gone, but he didn’t care. He refused to kill her after coming so far. He promised Agardawes he would save his daughter. If not for Philippe, she wouldn’t be injured. He had to try everything.
“Odette, Odette, I know the timing isn’t ideal. I know you may not even be able to hear or comprehend a word I’m saying.”
Her struggles almost succeeded as she landed a kick to his knee. He growled, and she gnashed her teeth.
He blew out a deep breath, determined to reach her. “Je t’aime. Odette, I’m in love with you, and because of that, I need you to shake this off. You’re not gone. I refuse to believe that. Rafe told me what Seraphina was going to do. This must be an effect of that.”
She continued to fight him, and he increased the pressure of his grip on her shoulders, almost vomiting when she shrieked.
“You can’t be gone, Odette. Not when I’ve just found you. You give me a reason to live, a reason to stop being a selfish arse. It’s because of you that I have more than just a life of hunting. I won’t have that if you’re gone. So please, Odette, ne pas être allé.”
He was crying again, for the second time in as many days. Her eyes softened for a moment, and her body went limp in his arms. He wouldn’t hope, not until the fangs weren’t visible. He wouldn’t hope for the best, only to have the worst.
“Odette, please come back to me. You’re a survivor. You’re half of a Pure Angel, the strongest creatures alive. Use that. Use your strength to push this nonsense aside and tell me you love me. I need to hear it.”
Her body went utterly still, and whilst the black didn’t fade from her eyes, he swore he saw a touch of green piercing through the solid darkness. A moment later, she squeezed them shut. When she opened them, her fangs were gone; he hadn’t even noticed them slip away.
“I love you, Philippe. I love you.” She sobbed for the second time and fell against his body as he let his grip on her go.
Relief washed over him in a wave as their bodies connected once more. Odette was completely relaxed, the only tension in her shoulders as she fought tears. His arms held her again, tucking her protectively against his body, trying to shield her from herself. He used one hand to stroke down the back of her head, cringing when it caught in a knot in her hair and hoping it didn’t hurt her.
“Philippe, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Sh, it’s ok, ma belle falle. You were not yourself.”
“I don’t know who myself is anymore. There is so much inside of me that is not my own. So many things I couldn’t control if I wanted to.”
He felt the tears seep into his shirt, and he gently unwrapped his arms from around her and pulled her back. With one hand supporting her around the lower back, he used the other to tip her chin up and look into her eyes. Philippe was positive that the green could still be seen. It was muted, but it still fought to shine from behind the demonic black.
There was something horribly wrong with the timing of everything. They were literally in Hell, and there was no knowledge of when her captors might return. He needed to give her something she could be in control of, something powerful that might help her level her fears.
He lowered his mouth to hers and pressed his lips to hers. He didn’t push the kiss; merely let her kiss him. When he pulled back, he saw heat burning in her eyes. “You’re not in control of everything, but you’re in control of this. I’m yours, Odette. You have control of me.”
A greedy look passed in her eyes before she leaned up and took his lips. His body barely towered over hers, and he struggled not to take control of the kiss. He felt his prick begin to rise and pulse as her body crushed back into his. She was hungrily commanding both the kiss and the rhythm of their bodies rocking together.
She growled a far different sound than the one when she had attacked, and he slipped just a little in ceding her control. He devoured her with his lips, and his erection pressed betwixt them. Her hands trailed down his chest and fumbled at his belt.
He twitched, doing his best not to touch her, not to help her undress him. Their kiss continued as she moved her hands against his erection, trying to undo the belt. He growled low, and she nipped and tugged at his lower lip. When he felt his pants slip down, he stepped out of them and pushed them to the side with his foot, barely registering as the gun scraped along
the floor.
All he could feel was her fingertips. She was running them everywhere, up and down his inner thigh, over his arse, and finally, up and down over his erection beneath his knickers. Philippe’s hips pumped of their own free will, but she didn’t seem to mind.
She broke the kiss and took her hands off his member to tug his shirt over his head. A flash of pain tore through his shoulder when he moved too quickly, and she gasped.
“What happened?” her voice was filled with lust, and he almost wished she hadn’t cared enough to stop. His prick was straining in his knickers, and he wanted her hands on him again, her body on his.
“Thrasher.” He pulled her back to him and silenced her with a kiss, determined not to bring up anything about what had happened to the man who had raised her. His hips ground into hers, and she released a strangled moan that almost made him come.
Still kissing her, he pulled his knickers off and gracefully stepped out of them. His fingers peeled at the elastic band in her borrowed trousers. Gently, he brushed his index and forefinger over her core and groaned with her at the sensation.
She was ready for him, and he didn’t think he could wait much longer. Without taking her shirt off, he tugged her to the ground as he sat. His mouth left her lips and traced along her jawbone before sliding down her beautiful throat and nipping at her breasts through both her shirt and corset. Odette arched against him, and he returned his mouth to her neck, placing gentle nips and kisses along it.
“Tell me what you want me to do, Odette. I want you to be in control.”
She groaned, spread her legs and scooted closer to him. Her body grazed the tip of his erection as she reached in betwixt them and ran her fingers over the top side of it before taking it in her hands.
He shuddered as she caressed him and placed a kiss over the bite on his neck. He felt her tongue lick out and did his best not to flinch. He wanted her to think of nothing but them together for however long they could last.
“Just take me, Philippe. Make love to me and make me forget where we are. You’re quite good at making me forget.”
There was a trace of a smile on her lips, and it was all the invitation he needed. He took his shaft in his hand, his fingers brushing hers, and she let go. Without a thought, he used his good arm to lower her to the ground and covered her body with his. He guided his prick into her wet core and thrust to the balls with one push.
“Oh Philippe,” she moaned.
His hips bucked in reaction.
“Yes, yes, yes.”
Her chant was maddening with each and every thrust of his hips. Not breaking stride, he lifted her arse off the ground to allow himself to slide in deeper and hit her so perfectly she arched and whimpered with every thrust.
When her legs wrapped around his waist and she used the strength in her legs to tug her body farther onto his, he almost lost his willpower. Her hands trailed down his back and pinched his backside as he thrust uncontrollably into her. Over and over, he slipped in and out of her body. Her mewls of appreciation fueled him and drove him deeper, harder. He could feel his hold loosening, and when she reached up and gently bit over the spot where she’d attacked him, he felt himself go.
Pure pleasure shot through him as hot as a lick of fire, and he’d never felt anything better. His body pumped and slammed into hers as his release continued to roll through him. He growled and continued to thrust into her, harder, more recklessly. Her whole body rose off the floor as she met each and every desperate thrust.
“Philippe, oh Philippe!” Her head thrashed back and forth.
She was a beautiful sight, writhing beneath him in pleasure from his prick. Determined to make her release as perfect as his had been, he rubbed his thumb over her swollen clit as he thrust in and out of her body until he felt her snap like a rubber band.
Her inner walls clutched at his shaft, and the sensation pushed him over the edge once more. Stars danced across his eyes as he experienced a second release for the first time.
He collapsed on top of her and immediately lifted himself back off. They were both breathing so loudly that it filled the small cell. His body felt on a high, and he could tell from the dazed look on her face, Odette was feeling much better as well.
“Say it again,” she said with a smile on her lips.
He wasn’t certain he knew what she meant, but he had a decent idea. “I love you, Odette.”
“No, no. Not like that. Say it in your native tongue. Tell me in that beautifully romantic French of yours.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle as he slid his prick from her body and rose off her to get dressed. He pulled his shirt on and ignored his knickers as he bent down to step into his pants, almost wholly forgetting the treasure that they held.
As he slipped his hand in the pocket to grab two of the flowers, he told her, “Je t’aime, Odette.” He pulled his hand from the pocket and opened it slowly, revealing the sacred flower. She stepped back into her own pants, and it only just hit him that she had no undergarments on. Blood rushed back to his shaft at the idea, and he pushed it down.
She frowned, and her lip trembled before she looked back at him. “I don’t think it will work, Philippe.”
“We will never know if you do not eat it, Odette.” Her hesitation was all over her face, and he pushed his hand out further. “For me, Odette.”
She sighed and slowly reached out. Her fingers tickled his as they grazed over the flowers and picked one of them up.
“What if nothing happens, Philippe?”
Her fear was so tangible it pained him. “Then we will figure something out together.” He nodded to emphasize his words and watched as she sighed.
She took a deep breath and placed the yellow flower inside her mouth. He watched, breath held, as she chewed and ground it up in her mouth before swallowing. Neither of them knew how long it would take, or how it would work, but he gasped aloud. The eerie black in her eyes faded away, and her shimmering green eyes stared at him.
“Odette, Odette your eyes. They’re green!” He picked her up and twirled her in his joy. He laughed, but she didn’t—she had probably never known they’d gone black.
When he sat her down, the look in her beautiful green eyes worried him—pure sorrow.
“The fangs, Philippe,” she opened her mouth and pulled her lips back to show him. “They’re still there.”
“Just wait a moment, it can’t be immediate. Have patience, ma belle falle.”
She said nothing, and they didn’t move. They didn’t speak as they waited.
“It’s not working, Philippe.”
Hysteria bubbled, and he kissed her, trying to stop it.
“Do you want to drink blood?”
“No.”
“Then perhaps the fangs are permanent now.” He reached into his boot to pull out his dagger and sucked in a breath at the quick pain as he sliced his wrist and offered it to her. “Test it.”
Disgust rolled off her in waves, but she took his wrist. The moment her mouth wrapped around it, he knew he’d messed up. She moaned in ecstasy and began to pull at his wrist with her lips.
Hastily he pulled back and tore part of his pathetic excuse for a shirt to bandage the wound.
“Odette—”
“No. I don’t want to talk about it. You said my eyes changed. We need to speak to a Pure Angel. I need to know.”
She stopped talking, and her face screwed up in terror. “They’re being attacked by Fallen!”
She raced past him before he even had a chance to process what had occurred. She must have been healed because she ran with a speed he’d never seen before.
Part of him wanted to shout at her, to ask what she meant, and the other part wanted to shove her behind him and run first. She must have read his mind somehow because she turned without stopping.
“A Fallen. A Fallen is there, we need to get to them to help.”
Twenty-One
Philippe’s lungs vaguely felt as if they were going to explode.
They’d been running ever since they’d left the cell and had slammed into Lucius a few paces back. He’d been slowly walking along, something that made Philippe curious about how many demons he had killed in the short time since they’d parted.
“Where’s the fire?” He smirked at his own joke and then looked over Odette. “Good to see you again, Odette.”
“Lucius,” she wrapped her arms around him in a brief hug and then pulled back. “Almost an hour ago, Rafe screamed into my head that they were under attack by Fallen. I don’t know if my father and Kellan are alright, but we don’t have time to talk.”
She took off at a run again, and Lucius leveled his eyes at Philippe.
“Be quiet, demon. Not a fucking word. I’m not telling her whilst we are on the run. I will as soon as we are heading back to the Alliance.”
Lucius continued to stare at him judgingly.
“Enough.”
Philippe recognized the rock formations, and he knew they were in Imp territory, which meant the entrance was right around the corner. His lungs were slowly burning, and he worried he would pass out rather than be able to help fight the Fallen, assuming an hour hadn’t been too long.
Not the right thought, not right now.
The image of returning to Kellan’s bloody body on the floor distracted him. He almost slammed directly into Odette when she stopped because he was struggling to fight the vision away. If he was going to help, he had to stay out of his own head.
Sure enough, there were three wingless Fallen fighting with Kellan and Rafe. Two male and one female. They were beautiful, and he admired the pure strength and grace their bodies exuded as they wielded the giant swords in the air. He saw a quick flash of green and was shocked to see Rafe was holding the gun. Kellan appeared to be throwing rocks from the floor in betwixt randomly flailing his arm holding a dagger.
Philippe pushed Odette out of the way to help, determined not to let it end in their bloodshed. When he put himself in the center of the cavern with them, he looked them over very quickly. The pair looked physically beaten down, and if he wasn’t mistaken, Kellan was fighting with his eyes closed. If Odette thought it strange, she didn’t see her father, she hadn’t mentioned it yet. If the fight had been going on for an hour, they were all impossibly strong and faring well. He’d never been in a demon fight that had lasted that long, and he sincerely had no desire to—not even if it was triumph in the end.