by Dianna Hardy
Everyone stared at her.
“What?”
Pueblo was impressed. “Girl, you know a lot about dragons.”
She smiled. “I’m Wiccan. Creation myths across all pantheons are standard learning within Wicca, and dragons feature quite a lot.”
Elena turned to face Karl. “This dragon prophecy wasn’t written with the Pen, was it? So, is there any chance that it’s based on an abstract vision? We have two seers at The Witch Council, but it’s rare that they see actual things. Mostly they see symbols and impressions. For example, while the dragon represents Satan, Hell and destruction, the angel could represent God, Heaven and peace.”
“So,” added Pueblo, “when the angel lays with the dragon … what? God lays with Satan?”
“Or, it symbolises a mergence of the two; of Heaven and Hell.”
“All good points, and all valid,” said Karl, “but I don’t think it’s just abstract. In the Book of Revelation, the War in Heaven takes place between Archangel Michael, and ‘the dragon’, the dragon specifically being a reference to Satan.”
“But don’t forget the creation myths, okay?” pressed Amy. “Dragons were the first Gods according to those, or at the very least, protectors of the first Gods.”
“And what about the angel taking all sin from the world?” asked Pueblo.
Everyone turned to Karl. “I don’t know. I can’t find any reference to that at all, but to take sin from the world, is to take it from mankind. That’s a good thing. If this dragon prophecy is associated with what Lokoli wrote, there may even be a chance that the apocalypse will benefit the human race. That throws everything into a whole new light. Whatever the answer, we don’t have long to come up with a plan on what to do when it happens. All of these notes and prophecies say that it all comes to pass in the latter half of 2011.”
“If you’re interpreting them right,” mumbled Katarra.
“I admit that I’m new to angelic script, but Gwain’s already begun teaching me the language, and with the angel blood in me, it’s making sense more easily than I would have imagined. And I’m not new to translating foreign languages and symbols on antique objects. It’s all about the pattern in the language. Once you find it, and you have a point of reference for it, it’s just about putting the pieces together.”
“Is that why you think this dragon prophecy might also have something to do with the apocalypse?” asked Elena. “Because of the date on the notes?”
Karl nodded. “That, and the fact that it was hidden amongst The Demon Bride prophecy.” His face reddened with what looked like guilt. “It was hidden in such a way that suggested no one was supposed to find it.”
Elena gave him a pointed stare.
He cleared his throat. “I got all these from the Angelic Court Library. Gwain showed me how to gain access when we were hunting through the Akasha for info on Amy.”
“I was gonna ask how you got all this stuff,” said Pueblo.
“Yeah. If you’re an angel, you say a chant, some kind of light-door opens, and you walk into wherever in the angelic realms you need to be. Except, I’m not a full-blooded angel, so I don’t get allowed in most places, and Gwain’s fallen, so neither does he. The library’s permissible though. That’s where I got these.” He gestured to the mess on the kitchen table.
“So … you have an angel library card, or what?”
Karl’s face turned the colour of a beetroot.
“Oh, my God,” voiced Elena. “You stole them?”
“Er…”
“You stole these from God? You stole when … thou aren’t supposed to steal?”
Despite Karl’s new shade of red, Pueblo didn’t miss the determination in the man’s eyes.
“Elena, up until tonight, we all thought you were going to end the world. I was searching for something, anything, to prevent it; to save you from that and to make sure you don’t end up dead. If I have to steal from God to protect you, I will, and we found some important information in the process. If I had to do it again, I would.”
Elena blinked back tears, and Pueblo guessed they were of love, given that she didn’t look that angry.
Katarra smiled sweetly at Karl. “You know, Adam did anything for Eve, too.”
Amy punched her in the arm.
“Ouch!”
“Will you shut the fuck up? Just ‘cause you don’t have anyone who loves you…”
The demon’s eyes flashed in anger. “So tell me, is that better or worse than having two men who love you?”
Amy shrank back and turned a shade of green.
Pueblo’s fangs had elongated before he even realised he’d half-shifted.
Amy laid a hand on his chest. “Don’t. She’s not worth it.”
“You know,” said the Brujii, her own fangs displayed, “earlier I felt a little ripple of magic radiate from somewhere near the centre of Scotland.” She let her gaze fall on Amy. “But I’ve got a feeling you already knew it wasn’t over.”
Elena threw her magic at Pueblo half a second after he lunged at Katarra. He froze in mid-air, still able to see and hear everything, just unable to move.
I’m going to kill you when this wears off! he mentally hurled at her. Maybe he could kill her with the ferocity of his thoughts alone.
Katarra laughed … until Elena mumbled something, and the demon’s mouth disappeared, replaced by nothing but smooth skin.
“Mmmm!” she mumbled, eyes blazing, as she pointed a finger that sparked magic at Elena.
“Oh, you wanna try me?” she warned. And like the true all-powerful witch she was, the air around her became electric – the woman didn’t even break a sweat.
Katarra’s hand shook, wavered, then fell to her side, although her whole body still trembled with anger.
“I want you out of this room. And if you don’t think you can keep your mouth shut without my help, I want you out of this house.”
The two women stared each other down, then with as much poise as she could manage, Her Highness left the room.
Elena turned to Pueblo and released him. He landed with a thump on his feet, grateful that his natural balance saved him from landing on his arse.
It took all his willpower to contain himself, and not take after the Brujii bitch. It was Elena’s concerned voice that earthed him.
“Amy? Are you all right?”
His beautiful woman – ‘cause yeah, she was his woman – looked positively ill. Her right hand clutched her stomach, and her other one went to her throat. “I’m … er … I’m gonna—”
She flew out of her chair, practically landed head-first in the kitchen sink, and vomited.
~*~
Mary couldn’t even move enough to blink the water out of her eyes. “You … haven’t had an orgasm for … what did you say? 10,278 years? You haven’t had an orgasm for 10,278 years?”
Gwain sighed. “It’s a condition of merging. We can only give ourselves to the ones we merge with. We can love other people; we can have sex with other people; we just can’t ever give ourselves wholly.” He looked down at her hands. “Are you okay?”
She followed his gaze and realised she was gripping his biceps so hard her fingers had turned white. And, actually, she was pretty sure she was about to cry with joy, or have a total meltdown. “Is that why…” Shit, she could barely get the words out. “Oh, my God, is that why I’ve never been able to come? With anyone? Because I merged with you?”
He looked at her sheepishly. “It must be. I thought our bond had been torn to pieces when that black hole took you … but evidently not – not completely anyway.”
Abaddon had said as much, hadn’t he? “Traces of his scent remain on you. Your human incarnation can’t have fully destroyed your tie to him – remnants of your betrayal still linger…”
“But, what about Abaddon? How was I able to bond with you, when he and I were already bonded?”
“I don’t have an answer for that. You shouldn’t have been able to.”
Jesus
Christ. All this time she’d thought she was the fuck-up – that she could only orgasm when in incredible pain – and now it turned out that that wasn’t true. There was another explanation. Maybe not a normal explanation, but it was certainly a valid one that made more sense … well, as much sense as any of this did.
Somewhere inside herself, she was plummeting; falling into all the pieces of her life … falling into Gwain. Because all those pieces were finally coming together, and the picture had never looked so clear.
She smashed herself against his lips, kissing him ferociously, feeding on the urgency that had taken hold of her. His rigid cock bumped against her belly, and she moaned into his mouth. God, he felt good – hot, hard and smooth. Reaching down, she rubbed her palm against the tip of his shaft.
Gwain bellowed swear words into her mouth and grabbed her wrist.
She let out a lust-filled cry of frustration. What the hell was the matter now?
“For Christ’s sake, I don’t remember what it’s like to orgasm, okay?” There was that lost boy in his stare again. “I want to do this, but I’m super-strong in case you hadn’t noticed.” His eyes bore into hers. “I’m scared I’ll hurt you.”
How. Fucking. Ironic.
Did he not drive safety pins through her breasts just the other day? “Gwain, I’ve spent the last ten years of my life asking people to hurt me.”
He didn’t back down. “I’m serious. Try to understand. I don’t remember. I don’t know if I can control myself; I don’t know if I’ll be screwing you through the damn floor because I can’t stop. And whatever your original make-up, you’re in a human body right now. You could die.”
“Well, that would be one hell of a love-fuck.”
He clenched his jaw.
Was it to stop from smiling?
She threw a wide grin at him.
His top lip twitched. “Smart-mouthed bitch.”
“Overbearing arsehole.”
Then his mouth descended on hers. He reached out with his right hand, and fumbled for the dial to turn the water off, his lips trailing down the side of her neck. “I want you so badly,” he muttered against her skin, travelling back up her front until a final kiss landed on the tip of her nose. “Tell me what to do, Mary. Show me how not to hurt you.”
A chord struck deep within her, and she stilled.
An image of herself at thirteen sprang to mind out of the blue; it had been the first time she’d held a blade to her wrist. Her mind had been numb with pain, her actions fuelled by desperation, her heart hardened by need…
In her mind’s eye, the thirteen-year-old girl looked back at her, blue eyes large and pleading… Show me how not to hurt you…
A semi-sob tumbled out of her, and for once, in far too long, it was not ripped from her in a moment of agony, but drawn out of her in a moment of healing. The angel in her arms gave voice to what she couldn’t – and maybe that’s what true mergence was.
He wiped a tear from her cheek. “Mary, we don’t have to—”
She shook her head and placed a finger on his lips. “Oh, no you don’t… Lie back,” she whispered, surprised her voice worked. Her throat ached from tears that still needed to fall – she’d never cried so much in her life, as she had the past few hours. You didn’t cry as an orphan growing up in childcare unless you wanted the shit kicked out of you. She felt wrecked inside. Wrecked and mending; a part of her broken, but something stronger – purer – rising in its wake.
Gwain shifted on his knees, then brought himself down to sitting, before lying back on the tiled floor.
Mary lowered herself on top of him so they were both stretched out, head to toe. “This is a very roomy shower.”
“You should see the rest of the apartment.”
“Are you a secret billionaire?”
“Of course.”
“Let me guess… You don’t live on Earth for over ten thousand years without seeing your financial investments grow into one hefty portfolio?
“Spot on.”
She laughed, then gasped as his hand found a breast. He stroked her gently, played with her nipple, was the epitome of tentativeness; but his eyes held fear. Not quite the ‘I’m going to burn in Hell’ fear she’d grown accustomed to seeing, but it was close.
Was this really the same man that had taken complete control over her train-wreck of a body just a few days ago? Except then, he had always known he wouldn’t go any further with her. Now, he was giving her all of himself. And not because she was in pain; not because she needed rescuing; but because he wanted to. She moved up a fraction and leaned her forehead against his. “Gwain, you’re not going to hurt me.”
“I don’t know that. You don’t know—”
“I do. I really do. I trust you.”
“But—”
“Will you stop if I ask you to?”
Doubt lingered on his face, before he seemed to come to some kind of resolution within himself. He nodded.
“Well then,” she smiled. “Don’t you move a muscle.” She made her way down his body. If he stops me this time, I swear I may just have an epic adult tantrum.
“That may be worth seeing.”
“You’re so not ready for that.”
His laughter turned into a hiss as she finally got to do what she’d wanted to do ever since that first time back in the jail, and slid her lips over the crown of his cock.
She moaned as her taste buds exploded. He was all male musk and saltiness – like oysters and sunshine rolled into one.
His husky voice reached through the blood roaring in her ears. “That’s quite an analogy.”
She grinned, and swirled her tongue around him, up and down his length, not wanting to miss an inch. “You having fun in my brain?”
“Your thoughts are bloody loud.”
“Then you know how much I’m loving this.”
He groaned his affirmation.
“And you know I’m damn good at it,” she teased. She had to fight the urge to climb on top of him and ride him ‘til they were both done. Instead, she took him in her mouth again, relaxed her throat and went down as far as she could.
“Fuck!”
His hips jerked up, and she wondered if for the first time in her life, she might be capable of coming on the spot. This was so hot. He was raw power laid bare beneath her.
She reached for his hand with her left one, and placed it on the back of her head. You know what I want.
His moan carried a hint of protest, but she knew very well he could read her.
You know what I like, she directed at him. Please… you won’t hurt me.
“Mary,” he whispered, but his fingers entwined themselves into her hair. He pushed her down.
Harder … don’t be scared.
She didn’t hear what he muttered next, but he pressed her down harder onto his erection and held her there, using that tiniest bit of force she wanted so she couldn’t wriggle free. A thrill of pleasure ran through her body when he passed the back of her throat, and then she went to work on him, sucking hard, holding down his thighs as he tightened his grip in her hair.
“Oh, God…” His muscles twitched under her palms as he strained to control himself.
What a turn on. He was so … godly. He made her feel godly – a part of Heaven – and it felt a whole lot nicer than being a part of Hell.
An unexpected tingling swept up her spine. That awakening feeling was back, and this time in full force. Pictures, sounds, smells, sensations, all flooded her senses, and heightened her sensitivity to the point where she had to concentrate on holding back her climax. It wouldn’t be accurate to say that she was remembering … it was more like an unfurling of knowledge that had been dormant. It felt like Karma Sutra for the brain… for her soul…
Images of Jasmine hit her first – its creamy white petals, its overpowering scent – then everything else rushed in, and she let it, a deep ache pulsing within her that had everything and nothing to do with her desire. She saw acres of woodland
and deep, dark forests; oceans that spanned eternity; mountains that guarded the balance of life and the secrets of death; stars that kept history alive from one generation to the next… She breathed it all in, something archaic inside her dancing for joy. Home … she was home.
And then she saw Earth turning on its axis in front of her… Only the planet had a huge red tear down its middle, as if someone had tried to rip it in half. Rage tore through her. That wasn’t right! That wasn’t right!
Mary was hauled upwards before she even realised it, Gwain’s actions knocking her out of her vision, his glowing self now sat up against the wall. Had he seen what she’d seen?
He pulled her forwards, and crushed his lips to hers, drinking her in like a man dying of thirst. She was lifted and jostled until she straddled him, his sex nudging hers…
“Did you see? Gwain, did you—”
“Yes. I saw. I need you.” All trace of fear had left him. Instead, his eyes burned into hers with a yearning she was certain she mirrored.
His hands found her hips, and without losing her gaze, he guided her down onto him, filling her inch by inch until he could go no further, and honest to God, no one had ever been this deep inside her, not even with her strapped to a bench and bound in all sorts of positions.
Her cry was ecstasy and relief all rolled into one. It bounced off the tiled walls, colliding with his own.
“I’m gone,” he moaned. “There’s no stopping…”
“Don’t stop… Never stop…”
Their bodies rocked in unison; both hungry; both hard… The tingling down her spine became like a loud shriek that whipped up and down her back.