Blessed Fury: An Urban Fantasy Romance (Angels of Fate Book 1)

by C. S. Wilde

  “I’m here,” she said. “But I don’t think Jal would mind if you had a panic attack. He saved your life, after all.”

  Liam shrugged. “I guess the guy’s all right for a demon.”

  She chuckled, pressing her face deeper against his chest. The sound of Liam’s heart made for a soothing lullaby. Ava wished they could stay like this, together in this bed, until the end of days.

  “I prayed,” he added, his neck strained. “I worked as a Selfless my entire life, but I had never actually prayed. Too skeptical for that, which is ironic, since I’m an angel.”

  “You are first and foremost Liam. The angel part comes after that.” Ava snickered. “I can’t picture you praying, though.”

  “Yeah.” His chest rumbled in a low snicker. “I prayed for hours, and still you wouldn’t wake up. What does that say about the Gods?” He let out a deep sigh. “I saw you glow, and then this impulse burst from you like a nuclear bomb. I couldn’t think, couldn’t act, I just watched everything burn as Jal landed us on top of the nearest building.” Liam stared at the wooden ceiling of the poster bed, his Adam’s apple moving up and down. “I felt like I had died with you. It’s strange, thinking you’re dead when you’re still breathing.” He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “Once everything settled, a rain of debris fell down, and Jal dove back into the warehouse to search for you. Half of his body was burned beyond recognition, his left wing pierced and scabbed, and Jal winced, Ava. Not because of the pain he felt, but because I was dead. Seeing me that way hurt him, the demon with half of his body destroyed. So he went back for you.”

  She pressed harder against his body, warmth flowing between their skin. Liam pulled her closer, if that was even possible. Right then, kissing him felt like an awfully good idea.

  “When Jal came up with you, unconscious but alive, I lived again.” He looked down at her with a curious frown. “How do you explain that?”

  She couldn’t, and she was done with it all. Memories, worries, Ava wanted nothing of that. This Heaven right here was hers and Liam’s. It didn’t belong to anyone or anything else.

  She leaned upward and kissed him. His lips were warm, smooth, and their touch sent delirious tingles across her body, tingles that pooled below her waist.

  “I’m here,” she said, nudging his nose with hers. “Always.”

  Liam cupped her cheek, watching her. “I know.” He pressed his lips against hers, his tongue venturing into her mouth, setting the fire inside Ava ablaze.

  They kissed for so long that her lips felt numb, and Ava wondered once or twice if she had stopped breathing.

  She kept giving herself to Liam, taking all of him in return. His tongue, his saliva, his skin, they were also hers. It was painful and delirious at the same time.

  “Gods, Ava,” he said between shallow breaths and hungry kisses. “I can’t stop.”

  She couldn’t either. She didn’t want to.

  Angelic power increases one’s libido. This had been the explanation given to Ava when she’d asked why angels fornicated so often. Fornicated, had relations, fucked. Justine had once told her, “There’s nothing wrong in saying we have sex or that we fuck, you prude. Geez, why do you have to be so proper all the time?”

  Ava didn’t know how to be improper; she had never even tried. She had always controlled her urges—often by herself, alone in her bed when it was dark and the world was asleep—knowing that bedding Ezra would be wrong, and that there were more important things than sex in an angel’s life.

  But Liam was a flood of sensation that drowned her. She wanted to be improper with him, so very improper. A fire had awakened inside Ava, a blazing madness she’d kept tightly controlled for an entire century. For the first time in her existence, she wanted this madness to swallow her.

  Slowly, Ava’s hand drifted down to Liam’s pants, sliding underneath the rough fabric and then his boxers. Her fingers ran over his hardness, and she gasped. Heavens, Liam was big. It sounded cheap and wrong, but it was the truth.

  Her hand closed around his flesh, and his body shuddered against hers. Liam looked down at her with hooded eyes, a certain desperation behind them. “Princess, if we start this—” His words vanished when she tightened her grip and stroked his length. He swallowed hard, flinging the back of his head against the pillow as she stroked again and again.

  “Hmm, Ava,” he grumbled. “As much as I love your hand, this isn’t how this will go down.”

  The fire in her roared furiously, demanding Liam’s pleasure. Her partner had been through so much … he deserved everything. But he was right. This wasn’t how she’d take his release.

  Ava raised herself and sat astride him, studying the fierce male under her. She memorized his tousled black hair, his sharp jaw, and those green eyes, usually so sad, now filled with surprise and lust. Oh, they burned with lust and she’d claim all of it. They would have sex, make love, fuck, she didn’t care; they would have it all.

  She leaned down and kissed him slowly, nibbling at his lips. Ava wanted to tease him, draw him to the same edge where she stood.

  Liam groaned and sat up, leaning his back on the headboard of the bed. His fingers dug deep into Ava’s waist, then her behind, bringing her closer to him. His other hand clawed the back of her neck, pulling her face down and trapping her there, so close. Their lips merged again.

  “There she is,” he whispered between kisses that left her breathless. “My Valkyrie.”

  The roughness in his voice was a release all on its own, but when he cupped her right breast with his firm hand, sending delirious shivers down her spine, she realized he was teasing her as much as she did him.

  Oh, he would pay for this.

  The need, the hunger, the fire, took over, and Ava could barely think straight. She yanked off his black shirt, tossed it away, and then fumbled with the buttons on his pants. Liam took off her large gray shirt while she worked on his zipper, and when Ava dragged his pants and boxers down, quickly shoving them off the bed, she had to stop and admire what she had freed.

  Liam gave her a naughty grin, clasping his muscular arms behind his neck. He flexed his hips up, highlighting his abs— and that exquisite part of him. He knew what he offered; he knew it very well. But his playful manner vanished when his attention locked on her breasts. With a finger, he called her to him, an entranced look tattooed on his face.

  Ava wanted to taste his length first, but she would obey him.

  For now.

  She removed her pants and crawled back to him, pinning Liam once again between her legs. She drowned him in wet, passionate kisses that threatened to destroy her.

  His hardness pressed into her entrance. Ava moved her hips up, then down, taking all of him in one starving move.

  “Heavens!” she cried as she adjusted to him, her insides adapting to the fullness of his flesh.

  Slowly, she began to move.

  Liam leaned his head back, inhaling sharply. “Fuck, Ava,” he breathed, then drowned at the curve of her neck, cupping her breast, her nipple between his fingers.

  Her rhythm increased. Fuck, fornicate, make love. This was all of that and more.

  She pulled at the short hairs on the back of his head as she hammered against him, forcing them to lock eyes. Ava moved harshly, watching the pleasure beyond his irises burn him as it burned her.

  His face crumpled in a mix of pain and rapture that sent her mind spinning, the ecstasy she gave him fueling her own.

  “Too good, princess,” he growled before wrapping one arm around her. He turned, taking her with him as he slammed Ava’s back onto the mattress.

  His body crushed hers in powerful moves that felt close to impalement. Liam thrusted with the strength of punches, but oh, she welcomed those thrusts, those movements that lifted her higher and higher until her world spun. Ava’s head thumped, and she moaned so loudly that her throat hurt.

  The bed creaked with their savage lovemaking—maybe it would break—but Ava didn’t care. Her m
ind seemed out of reach, and when Liam softly bit the skin at the curve of her neck, she couldn’t help but rise and explode again, so hard and fast that she couldn’t feel her body anymore. She thought she heard herself scream his name, but she couldn’t be certain.

  “When you come, princess,” he said roughly, sweat beading on his forehead as he kept thrusting, “Oh, that’s a fucking prayer.”

  Her intimacy might be crying with joyful tears that slid down her thighs. Wet noises came from below, following their rhythm. She received Liam, again and again, their connection so strong that Ava felt the bond they shared for the first time. It was a string of light and warmth, a path into Liam, a path of love and care connecting their hearts.

  It might not be thunder striking, but it was a bond, and a fine one at that.

  She closed her legs tighter around him, clenching muscles she didn’t know she had around his throbbing length.

  Liam hissed through his teeth, and Ava wondered if she’d hurt him.

  “Hells, woman!” he bellowed before bursting inside her in one shattering release.

  Ava couldn’t help but follow, feasting on his pleasure, taking it as her own. She could feel a part of him spurting into her womb, even after his initial cries and thrusts, and it only fueled her own release.

  Once they were done, Liam slumped, still fastened to her. He breathed heavily against her neck.

  For the first time since she could remember, Ava was happy. So completely happy. And relaxed. Gods, so relaxed.

  There was no world outside this room, no threats, no faith, and no damnation. No Ezraphael, either. There was just her and Liam, and the path of love that connected them.

  He dropped by her side, taking her in his arms, so that once again she heard the frantic beating of his heart.

  “Princess,” he said as his breathing steadied. A low laugh rumbled in his chest. “We’re pretty good at this.”

  She kissed the spot below his collarbone, his sweat salty against the tip of her tongue. “We are.”

  She couldn’t remember sex being like this, not by a mile. She did have relations with the husband she’d never really loved, over a hundred years ago, but it hadn’t come close to her experience with Liam. Relations, intercourse, sure, but it hadn’t been a flurry of sensation and emotion that flooded through her. She doubted that if she’d given herself to Ezra, it would have been the same.

  This lovemaking was hers and Liam’s and only theirs.

  They stayed in bed for a while, their breathing the only sound between them. Ava hoped the world had frozen, and that she could stay here forever.

  She couldn’t believe how close she’d come to losing Liam. If it hadn’t been for Jal, her partner would be dead, and she’d be responsible for it. The mere thought stole her breath.

  “Is Jal going to be okay?” she blurted.

  “Yeah, his healing is just taking longer,” Liam said. “Apparently something to do with the light you created. Do you know what it was?”

  Ava shook her head, then pressed her cheek onto his chest. “It was me. A part of me, I guess.”

  “We’ll figure it out.” He drew soft patterns on her arm with his fingers. “The fact that every demon is evil has been hammered into us since when? The beginning of time?”

  Ava frowned. “Your point?”

  “Jal is a demon, and he saved us.” He stilled for a second, his bands of muscles tightening. “Those Warriors made me watch, Ava.”

  “I know,” she muttered.

  He sniffed the top of her head before kissing it. “I destroyed the mood, didn’t I?”

  She giggled. “It was bound to happen eventually.” She looked up at him and bit his chin gently, his prickly stubble tickling the inside of her bottom lip.

  Liam groaned deep within his throat, something akin to a lion’s purr. “Princess, if you start this fire, we’ll have to put it out again.”

  Ava smiled at him, but as soon as a thought sneaked into her mind, her spirits dimmed, and agony squeezed her heart. “Jal was right. An angel could’ve killed Archibald. After what we saw …” Her voice failed.

  Liam’s heartbeats quickened, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “I need a fucking name.”

  “When Justine came to me, she told me Ezraphael might be punished for what happened, and that Gabriel and Talahel are trying to pin the whole disaster on him.” Her fingers closed into a fist over Liam’s chest. “Gabriel was responsible for the attack on Club 23, so I think he might be the one behind all of it. Perhaps even the Sword himself is aiding him, but I can’t be sure.”

  Liam was silent for a long while. “It’s hard to reach conclusions when we have no proof. Are you sure the Messenger is innocent?”

  “He’s not involved. I know him, Liam.” She sighed deeply. “Ezra needs me. I can feel it.”

  Liam’s heart broke. Ava could swear she heard it.

  He untangled from her and left the bed, grabbing his clothes from the floor and throwing hers onto the mattress. Then he picked up Ezra’s sword from a wooden table on the far end of the room and handed it to her.

  The blade felt cool upon her touch and eerily quiet, as if it were sleeping. A brand new brown leather belt followed.

  “I don’t know how your sword survived the blast,” he said mindlessly. “Everything else was vaporized.”

  “Liam, I didn’t mean—”

  “We have a lot of work ahead of us if we’re to help your boyfriend, Ava.” He avoided looking at her as he put on his clothes.

  “He’s not my boyfriend.” She got out of bed and dressed. “Evil is circling Ezra, trying to crush him. It’s clear to me now. I saw it when the In-Betweens attacked the Order, and after what Justine told me—”

  “Then go to your fucking mate.” He threw his arms in the air. “That’s what you were going to do once we finished this, isn’t it? Go ahead! No one’s stopping you. I can finish this investigation on my own.”

  She stepped toward him, trying to touch his arm but he jerked away. The distance between them stung her chest and left a bitter taste in her mouth.

  “Right now, Ezra isn’t the Messenger or my mate,” she said. “He’s a charge that needs my assistance, and you should see him as such.”

  “A charge? Just like me, then.” He shook his head and looked out of the window.

  Damned the Hells, her partner could be exasperating at times. “Of course not! It’s different.”

  Her feelings for Ezra remained in the past, and Liam was her present, her future. If only her partner could see that! But nothing she said would convince him. As a Guardian, she knew that well enough.

  Time. Liam needed time to understand.

  They stood in silence, words needing to be spoken but swallowed back.

  “I’m your charge and you care for me.” He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and stared at his own feet. “You confused that with whatever happened …” He nodded to the bed. “We both did.”

  “No,” she started, but he shook his head, silencing her.

  “It’s okay, Ava. No hard feelings. We had fun.”

  She stepped toward him, cupping his cheeks between her hands. This time he didn’t move away, he just peered at her with those sad green eyes. “It meant so much more than that. But Ezra needs me, Liam.”

  “I need you too,” he countered, his voice a whisper.

  A knock came from the door, and an old man with ebony skin and a white beard walked in; the same old man who had followed Ava. This time he wore a black shirt that said “Linkin Park” and light gray jeans.

  He frowned at Ava and then Liam, clearly sensing the tension between them. Instead of taking the cue to leave, he chose to ignore it.

  The old man clapped his hands and turned to Ava. “Well, then. I see you’re up.”

  28

  Ava

  Ava and Liam followed the old man through wooden corridors that reeked of pine and decay.

  They had been walking for a while, which meant that they were
either in a mansion or a palace. Probably the latter. Ava sent Liam worried glances, but he ignored her. He had done that since they left the room, and Ava hated the invisible wall that had risen between them.

  Time, she told herself. Liam needed time.

  The old man took them to an inner balcony that showcased a big entrance hall. A golden chandelier lit up the room, and a wine colored carpet rested on the floor below with the golden symbol of the Gods—the triangle within the circle—woven into the tapestry.

  The old man led them down a row of stairs, soon arriving at the ground floor. He turned to a door below the inner balcony which opened into yet another corridor. This time, their path was packed with rushing In-Betweens who paced from one room to the next, their voices a mix of exhaustion and anger.

  As the old man went on, Ava tried to observe what happened inside the rooms. In the first to her left, a vampire threw papers up in the air in a frustrated fit. Inside another room, a werewolf snarled and then slammed his paw on a table.

  A few humans peppered the madness, wearing the same gray flannel clothing of those who had perished in Club 23. The same flannel Ava wore.

  She grabbed Liam’s hand and squeezed it. He interlaced his fingers with hers, as if he had forgotten about their fight.

  “It’s confusing, but they’re on our side,” he muttered before letting go.

  A vacuum birthed within Ava, but she kept a composed demeanor. “And what is our side?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” He gave her a mellow grin. “But at least they’re not trying to kill us.”

  Someone pushed Liam against the corridor’s wooden wall, and the surface creaked with the impact. It hadn’t been a harsh blow, but Liam stood there, his attention fully on the culprit.

  One bulky man with white hair and dark skin snarled at him, his hands balled into fists. Werewolf. The stench of wet fur was unmistakable. He had pushed Liam, clearly looking for a fight with a Selfless.

  A thorny and angry mass swirled inside her partner; Ava could feel it. The sensation mingled with a red, velvety cloud that hinted at delight. Liam wanted a fight. Ever since they left the room he’d needed to blow off steam. This random werewolf had just given him the chance.