Archangels Creed Box Set 1-3

by Azure Boone

  “Don’t be ridiculous, you need to rest.” Fatigue flattened her voice. “Last thing I need is to have to lug a giant of a man home sick because he was too damn stupid to sleep without molesting the goddamn boss.” She tilted her head a little, taking some of the intended sting from her words. "Besides. It'd be a crime to waste all that wood to heat this place when you're clearly warm enough for both of us."

  Amazing that her harsh words only made him ache to jump on her and finish giving her what she’d clearly craved. But…“Yes ma'am,” was all he’d be doing about that. For the time being.

  Toren looked at the narrow spot of bed next to her. He’d be more comfortable if he slept standing up than that close to her. He slipped into the bed, careful not to jar the mattress more than necessary.

  He paused, feeling like an idiot for not thinking. How long had it been since she’d taken that medicine? He closed his eyes and carefully allowed his mercury to span the distance of time it had been since he’d given it to her. Only two hours? He settled fully into bed, putting his back to her. “I’ll wake you up to take medicine soon.” He remembered about thirst. “Do you need anything? Food or drink?”

  “No, I’m fine.” Weakness saturated the bite in her voice, making Toren need to hold her more. He hardened his resolve and resisted.

  “You be sure and let me know what you need. Please?” he added, as nicely as he could but keeping the firmness there to let her know he’d be pissed if she didn’t.

  She didn’t answer.

  “If you get cold, you’re welcome to lay against my back, I’ll stay turned this way.”

  She gave a weak snort. “Thanks but no thanks. You're about as good as a furnace. I’ll be fine. You just keep your ass healthy cause I’m gonna need that…body of yours to work real soon.” She grunted. "Damn, that didn't sound right. Just don't worry about me. Take care of yourself."

  Toren grinned. She always stuttered any time she referred to his body. He was sure that was a good sign. It felt like it was. “Yes ma'am.”

  “And stop pretending you’re a cowboy. You done got the damn job. If you’re gonna pretend something, act like you've got some sense and recognize how stupid you sound.” She gave a little snort. "Next thing I know, the other hands will be copying your good manners. It'll be all yes ma'am and no ma'am and please and thank you. They'll never get any work done.

  Toren grinned. "Yes, ma'am." He didn't even try to keep the laughter from his voice. Her sarcasm seemed to effect only the pulsating muscle between his legs. Fascinating. His mercury shield must read her temper and its effect on him as power and strength. Even if a good bit of it was a front, she was one hell of a woman. He smiled, grateful.

  Exactly two thousand five hundred and sixty-three breaths later, his hard-ass soon to be wife turned over in her sleep and glued herself to his backside with soft moans. Toren stifled the groan of ecstasy, not wanting to wake her. But not because he cared a lick about her rest. How utterly non-angelic could he get?

  He lay in excruciating agony as she burrowed closer with soft mewls and moans. He felt her smelling him and hoped it was pleasant to her. Most humans supposedly liked an angel’s scent, but he wouldn’t be the least surprised if she were the exception to that cute notion.

  Oh God. She was tasting him again. He clenched his eyes shut, astonished with his reaction to something so little. It was just the tip of her tongue skimming over his flesh, for crapsake. The last thing he was going to do was surrender to the need to give her what she clearly wanted. Until she could face the beautiful woman buried inside her in the light of day, she was officially off limits.

  Toren spent the next hour thinking of ways he could coax the real her out of hiding and was amazed and a little guilty at how they all involved his lips and hands on her body. And her body. Specifically her supposed non-existent breasts. He could spend eternity with his mouth on them. Though the mounds were slight, he’d never loved anything more. They were soft and perfect under his strong fingers. And her nipples. Toren wrestled his body into submission as he recalled the way the peaks hardened right in his mouth. He could still feel the erect nub against his tongue.

  Damn, it was going to be a long night.

  ** ** **

  Karly slitted her eyes when she smelled Kassern. The faintest scent of otherworldly smoke and a hint of soft clean sunshine. Mmmm. She smiled when he hovered over her body, his strong arms on either side of her head, studying her, soul deep. She sensed it then and lifted up on her elbows. “What’s wrong?”

  He covered her mouth in a hungry kiss, obliterating her questions then grasped either side of her head and held her to the fire now dancing over his body and tongue. “I have to have you. All of you. Now.”

  She gasped, inhaling his heat, not caring what drove him, only caring about giving to him until it ached in her soul. “Kassern.”

  He jerked up. “Did I hurt you? Are you hurt?”

  “What? No, I just…” She pulled him back down to him.

  He kissed her but then pulled up again. “You’re just what?”

  “Just wanting to make love to you that’s all, what is wrong with you?”

  Her words seemed to steal his breath and he returned to devouring her body with his lips and fiery tongue. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” The words were a whispered lament filled with ache and rapture. She held his head and opened for him, welcoming him with an arch of her back and a moan.

  He kissed and licked her sex with such tender affection, the fire in his tongue dipping inside her, followed by one, then two of his long fingers. In a matter of seconds, he brought her to a writhing orgasm with his other hand pressed into the valley of her breasts as though he wanted to feel exactly what it did to her. Before she could fully recover, his strong body covered hers and his tongue danced along hers, telling about all the things it’d just done. She held his face between her hands, her hips squirming in expectation of his cock.

  He slid into her with a deep absolution. She arched hard for the ecstasy of having him buried in her. He raked her neck with his teeth making Karly dizzy as he began moving in and out, his rhythm sweet with a promise of devastation on the horizon. She slid her nails along the muscles that rippled with his perfection. His voice soon growled louder with every stroke, and Karly clutched him to her. She always and forever craved his release, loving to watch him when he was in its throes. There was nothing more fulfilling for her. “Do it…yes, yes.”

  Her plea sent him over the edge and his upper body bowed back, the muscles in his beautiful chest and neck standing out sharp. The pleasure transformed his face with a soul shattering devastation and Karly would never tire of witnessing the phenomenon.

  Her angel. Her man. Her husband.

  Sam moaned and stretched, feeling like she’d been languishing nude in the sun for several days, her muscles warm, and her body humming. She moseyed her way to the surface of the most delicious sleep where some strange reality awaited. Nothing she felt, heard, or smelled, fit any kind of normalcy she knew.

  “How do you feel?”

  Holy cowpies, that voice. Felt like the words grazed her sensitive female parts like jiggly honey. How did she feel? “Amazing.” She opened her eyes finally and narrowed her gaze. The most amazing man stood over her. "Who the hell are you?" The dim light and dark interior of the room confirmed she was somewhere other than her room.

  "You don't… No of course not," he muttered with an odd sort of frown furrowing his brow. “I’m Toren. The new help? You’ve been pretty sick but I think you’re better now.” He started to say something more but seemed to think better of it and clamped his delicious mouth closed.

  Sam let his reply stand and took a quick assessment of her surroundings. They seemed to be in a small cabin that could be called primitive. The dim interior looked a little familiar, which made her think it was probably one of the old line cabins on the ranch. "Where are we and why?"

  "There was a blizzard.
We went to put out hay and encountered a fire. You passed out and the snow was getting worse, so I brought you to a cabin we near the second hay shed." He flicked a thumb behind him. “The blizzard seems to have let up finally. Are you ready to get back to the ranch while it’s calmed?”

  She looked all around as memories flooded her. Specifically the memory of his gorgeous lips and body. Clothing covered him, but that was not how she remembered him. Had she hallucinated it all? From the flu? Well of course she had. A man like him wouldn't have done or said any of those things to her.

  She met his ridiculously handsome face—worried face. “How long have I been out?” Her bladder gave a painful warning that she'd better get a move on soon.

  He shrugged. “Couple days.”

  “Shit!” She bolted up in the bed and threw off the covers—“double shit!” She yanked the blanket back and hid her nakedness. What the hell?

  He spun around. “Sorry. Your clothes are on the foot of the bed there. You were soaked and feverish. I couldn't leave you in them. And my apologies for your hair.”

  “My hair?” She suddenly became aware of the cool sensation on the right of her head. Her hand flew up. “Oh my God, what did you do?”

  “I had to cut it there to treat a nasty burn .”

  “Burn? Holy hell, the calf. Did it live?” She looked at him and nearly got lost in those strange bright yet dark eyes. They reminded her of a lake reflecting a full moon.

  He nodded. "I checked yesterday. It was singed a little but it was standing and sucking strong. Its mother really wanted to run me down." He grinned a little but quickly went serious. Then she realized what that gorgeous face was filled with. Pity. She must look like a sight. Great.

  “What’d you use to butcher me with?”

  He blinked. "Butcher?"

  "My hair?"

  "Oh." He presented the lock-blade pocket knife she normally wore on her belt. “Found it in the truck.”

  She held her hand out for it and he placed it in her palm. She jerked when his fingers grazed hers. Shit. What’d he do to her, put a spell on her vagina? His touch and words seemed to all be attached to it somehow. He seemed strange from the moment she met him, but for once in her life she couldn’t afford to believe the worst like she normally would. At least she wasn’t in a box buried in a field chopped in itty bitty pieces. Yet. And judging by the way her lady parts reacted to him she wouldn't object nearly enough if he decided to do something like that.

  She opened the familiar knife and got busy on her hair. At least the blade was good and sharp.

  “What are you doing?”

  His alarmed words made her jump and she angled her glare at him. “What does it look like? You think I should go out looking like I got the right side of my head blown off?” She grabbed blobs of hair and sawed them off until there was no more. “Here,” she handed the knife to him. “Make it as even as you can, I can’t see.”

  He stood there and just stared at her like she’d lost her mind.

  “What! It’s just hair for crying out loud, it’s gonna grow back.” If she hadn't been so annoyed, Sam would have laughed at the look on his face.

  Some hybrid of amazement, terror and hilarity blended into a comical expression. He took the blade hesitantly and seemed to be stuck to the floor.

  “Oh for craps sake, grow some damn balls and hurry up.”

  He moved behind her with a sigh and the second his hands went to work she was lost, and sorry for her meanness. Unbelievably gentle, it felt like he made love to her hair. She closed her eyes, unable to fight the soothing feeling flowing through her. Damn wonderful.

  “I’m done.”

  She jerked her head up, realizing she’d dozed. He stared at her hair, grinning. “What? You better not have fucked it up any worse.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “Why you looking at me like an idiot then?”

  He met her gaze and held it until the hairs on her body stood at attention. “I think you’re cute.”

  The term shattered the moment. Cute. Like a child. Judging by the concern taking over his expression, he was as clueless as a cumquat. Why should that surprise her? Nobody saw her as a woman. Why the fuck was that news to her? She was glad he didn’t see her as a woman. The last thing she needed was the risk of a gorgeous fake cowboy trying to win her for her inheritance and then treating her like a slave the rest of her life while he brought home real women to fuck right under her nose. Come hell or high water, she’d die an old bitter bitty before that happened.

  “Turn around so I can dress. Hell, what’s the point.” She boldly threw off the blanket and stormed past him and grabbed her clothes. “Not like there’s anything’ to see.”

  Despite her attempt at nonchalance, she found herself suddenly feeling very naked. She kept her back turned and quickly covered her worst feature, those sad little non-existent breasts. The second she thought it, memories assaulted her. His lips there. Sucking. Oh God. Her pulse went haywire and her nipples tightened along with some interior muscles.

  She snatched the blanket and hid her lower half and spun to him, heat flooding her body. When she faced him, her heart hammered at the look in his eyes. Uh-oh. Man on fire. His eyes were hooded and sex appeal oozed from his suddenly parted lips. He looked like a predator ready to devour. Not good. And yet the look made her skin quiver and her bones tremble and melt.

  Had he drugged her in order to molest her? Drugged himself in order to overcome her shortcomings? The fact that he did anything sexual to her only proved how desperate men were. They’d fuck farm animals given half a chance. For some reason, she was pretty sure there had been no sex between them, not sure how she knew that but thank God she did. Judging by that heart-stopping drawer-dripping look on his handsome face, she’d venture to say that whatever they did, the man liked it.

  Weirdo.

  Maybe he was a pedophile. She could've passed for a fourteen year old boy and maybe with the new hairdo it was more than he could stand.

  Freak.

  He suddenly seemed to realize his freakiness and spun around. “God, I’m so sorry, I…” He finished off his freaky with odd sputters and grunts. Not the sexiest sound she’d ever heard out of his mouth. A bolt of heat slammed her pelvis as she recalled a sound he had made. She sucked her breath in, remembering. She’d kissed him. Oh. My. Ranch.

  She quickly crammed her trembling scrawny limbs into her jeans. What had the bastard done to her? Her hand paused on her zipper as she recalled an image of his head…between her damn legs!

  “What in God’s name did you do to me while I was sickly and unconscious?” He spun around and she had to forced her mind not to get distracted with the smooth skin of his corded muscular neck, or the memory of her lips on it. Or the way his skin tasted. She pointed her finger at him. “I’m havin some strange memories mister. If I find out that you…slipped me some mushroom juice with my medicine?” She nodded with wide eyes, finger pointing as she worked out a justified punishment for such a crime. “I’m…I’m…”

  “Gonna fire me?”

  She coughed a you wish laugh. “A lot worse, you’ll wished you’d never laid eyes on me, that you can be sure.”

  He cracked a devastating slow grin. “I highly doubt that.”

  Ohhh, shit, jiggly honey words again.

  “You stay the hell away from me, you hear? I need you to help me through this catastrophe and I’m willing to pretend nothin’ happened in this little shack. You followin’ me dumbo?” Damn it he had her so flustered she sounded like a backwoods hick.

  “I am.”

  “And I’ll pretend you don’t have that sarcastic smirk on your…mouth.” It felt like a crime not attaching an insult to that body part, but only things like sexy, gorgeous, delicious came to her damn mind. “Are you a scorcerer? Because I’m not feelin’ like myself. Did you put some kind of spell on me?”

  He looked innocent enough as he chuckled his no.
/>
  This one was good.

  She pointed a hard finger at him. “I’ve got a hawk’s eye on you bubba.”

  He gave her an aw shucks look. “Yes ma'am. You ready?”

  Dammit she hated the way he cooperated so easily. She was used to Joe, who always and forever had some kind of comeback that never failed to be somehow disrespectful, but not directly enough that she could legitimately punch him out.

  She grabbed up stuff until her hands were full and Toren did the same, without being told. “Need to get back and check on ole mashed potato for brains. Make sure he hasn’t prayed and fasted himself to damn death.”

  They walked out to the truck and Sam found her hat and smashed it on her head to finish off her puny boy look. She started the old truck and grinned. “Thank you God for this faithful jalopy.” Sam jerked her gaze to the giant of a man who made a noise suspiciously like a groan. “Don’t tell me you’re gettin’ sick.”

  “No, not at all. Thank you for your concern.”

  She put the truck in gear and backed up, knowing where the road was by heart. “I’m concerned for my ranch mister, and if you’re sick, it dies. No offense.”

  “None taken.”

  She refused to meet his grin as she maneuvered the truck/snowplow through the mess, pushing snow aside with the angled blade on the front as she slowly went, carving out a road. “I hope to hell everybody’s okay.”

  "Including Mashed Potato Brains?" A little twinge of what might be jealousy gave his voice an odd little lilt.

  Sam glanced at him, trying to figure his angle once more. Nothing came to mind. "Joe? Can't stand the bastard. Nothing would make me happier than having him off my ranch. It wouldn't bother me a bit to put a bullet in his brain, just like I would a bull gone too mean for the cows. The only reason I haven't is it'd be too much work to bury him." She glanced at him again.