“Fuck you, man.” Uri had cut a wide swath through the world, screwing any willing woman. “After you found love, someone had to take care of all the women you left seeking to have their pussies—”
“Hey, hey watch your mouth in our Lord’s house. Michael will smite you.”
“I allowed the father to repent but I’m not going to let Morta take the kid’s life.” He felt Ram’s eyes on him but damn if he’d give Ram the satisfaction of looking at him. Uri needed to see Morta and if this was the only way, so be it. Another scar at this point wouldn’t faze him.
“If it’s any consolation just being with her may help. They won’t let you keep her,” said Ram.
Uri tensed, his jaw clamped shut. He disliked the sound of pity in Ram’s voice. He was right though. Didn’t matter. First, he’d have to catch the elusive-as-hell Morta. For all he knew, she didn’t want him.
The man rose from his knees, crossed himself and headed toward the angels. He couldn’t see them but Uri caught a new look of hope in his eyes. Ram did his job well.
“I’m out,” Ram said. “Considering Morta almost froze my ass because I ripped your wing a little, she feels something for you. Only God knows why.”
“Stay out of my head. Get the fu—” Ram disappeared before Uri finished his sentence. A sudden lightness blossomed in his heart from the idea Morta cared. Shit! It hit him over the head like a bat—the angel had infused him with some hope.
Thanks, Ram.
My pleasure, man. Good luck.
Her heart ached at the sound of desolation in his voice. Morta stood on the balcony above and saw Ram disappear. Uri’s face no longer wore the grimace. Hell, she wanted him so bad she couldn’t think straight but going to him was out of the question. She didn’t trust her own feelings.
Ebony hair hung in waves around his broad shoulders and long legs stretched in front of him. His black shirt did nothing to hide the definition of muscle on his large frame. Uri shifted sideways on the hard seat and appeared to pay attention to the couple entering the church. Her vision was more acute than that of humans and she saw the scar down the left side of his face visible beneath the shadow of stubble. It made him look like a pirate or a gladiator, and she’d always thought it was sexy.
What was she going to do? Given what Ram had said, would it help just to give in and truly be with him? Not the delirious mental games they’d played. Really be with him. She’d already neglected her responsibility to the poor souls below. A tremor of fear shook her limbs. It grew from another need, one much more physical. This angel set her body on fire, sent desire coursing through her veins whenever she was near him. Wet from thinking about the imperceptible bulge in his pants, she momentarily lost the ability to reason. Nothing mattered but having him.
Mentally shaking herself, she tried to refocus. She was amazed when she picked up his thoughts. What Uri planned regarding the child could not be allowed. The boy’s time on Earth was up. Engrossed with her own problem, Morta failed to see him move. His essence hung in the air, indicating he was still nearby and while her eyes searched the pews, a breeze brushed her bare shoulders. She turned and sapphire-blue eyes blazed at her.
“Sweet Morta, it was only a matter of time.” Uri leaned closer and whispered, “Enjoying the view?”
“What view? Everything looks so tiny from up here.” Heat flared in her chest and crept toward her cheeks. She immediately regretted the sarcasm.
“Such bark. Do you bite as well?” His tongue swept his lips, lips she wanted to touch, to taste.
“Do not try to save the boy. I can’t allow that.”
“You’re too late.”
“Don’t do this.” Nails dug into her palms as she struggled to keep her face blank. This would not go well unless she remained calm and convinced Uri to back off. “Should I call on Michael?”
“Do as you wish.” Hands stroked her arms, leaving a trail of fire. One lifted her hair and grasped her neck. His mouth slammed so brutally against hers, he drew blood. His tongue moved across the cut, healing it instantly. Then he prodded for entrance. Unable to resist, she opened to receive him. He was an aphrodisiac, one that tugged her into the flames of desire.
Thunder cracked loudly overhead, shaking the balcony.
Jumping at the sound, he said, “Another time,” before vanishing.
Lost when his warmth left with him Mort wrapped her arms tightly around her body.
The air shimmered with a curtain of light and her sister Decima appeared. “What, pray tell, do you think you’re doing?” Disappointment glittered in her eyes.
“I was already too late. His soul is now in Uri’s care.”
“Had you not wasted time ogling him you could have performed your duty. Morta, this is not acceptable.” Decima paced in front of her.
“What would you have me do?”
“Fix it. I do not want to involve higher authority. Take care of it now.”
Damn it. Uri would pay for this. First, she had to find him.
Uri didn’t hide but Morta had to seek him out and he waited for her to come. He’d taken her choice along with something else—twice he’d tasted her blood. Angels always ingested blood to create a bond. All they lacked were fangs, but they didn’t need them when a wish served just as well to open one’s vein. Morta could never hide from him now. Her essence lived in his body and access to her mind would never again pose a problem.
But this time she’d come to him because he held something she wanted.
He’d picked a perfect place for their confrontation, one not too public because Mort would be angry as hell. A smile tugged the corners of his mouth. Uri liked her volatile personality and relished the idea of taming her. Angels were stronger than Fates, so he could counteract most of her magic. His bolts of electric heat were a wonderful balance to her swords of ice.
He sat on a bench in the United States’ oldest zoo, its wild animals an excellent backdrop for their meeting. He loved to visit Philadelphia though it never lived up to its nickname, the City of Brotherly Love. The place teemed with cynical people. He’d found that to be true of most northeasterners. He did, however, admire their tenaciousness and they always provided a challenge.
Morta wouldn’t be long.
He watched two white lions lounge under a tree and could not imagine what it felt like to be confined in such a small area. He understood why they were named as vulnerable on the Red List of Threatened Species. Men had destroyed most of what had been provided for them to live well. They weren’t the smartest of creatures.
He smelled her before she appeared in front of him. Heaven’s scent.
“Uri.” Her voice carried music to his ears and blood to his cock.
“Morta.”
“I need to finish this,” she said calmly.
“Not yet.” She would have to give him something in return. Was it wrong to bargain with a life? Hell yeah but Uri would use whatever was at his disposal to possess her. I’m really keeping the youngster alive. He felt better believing that as he noted a breeze ruffle the straight white hair draping her bare shoulders. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath, hard nipples pressed against the thin fabric of the short dress she wore. He wanted to bury his head between her long, sexy legs.
“What do you want?” Violet eyes glittered with anger.
“You, and I’m certain we can work something out. I know your sister Fate well. She will not want Michael or the Father to know she can’t control her own.” He stared straight at her. “It’s my guess Decima sent you to repair things.”
“You’ll pay for this.”
“Sweetness, you’ll be worth every bit of pain I suffer.” Rising from the bench, he told her, “One thing needs my urgent attention, but I expect to see you in my domain at sunset.” Uri pulled her to him and pressed a soft kiss on her cold, motionless lips. “Don’t be so petulant, you might enjoy it.”
Only one person could protect his new ward.
Yael. How would he convince her?
In very deep shit was the phrase that popped into his head. It explained his predicament but he was determined to make this work. Having Morta to himself was all that mattered.
Even if just for a little while.
* * * * *
“Hang on there, man, have a seat. Second quarter’s almost over.” Samael was mesmerized by the football game on his sixty-one-inch widescreen TV.
Uri sat in a chair that struck him as out of place. A fucking throne. It came from the long line of Tudors, as did the one Samael sat on, cheering for a player.
“Shit, go left, motherfucker. Goddamn it.” Samael jumped up and down like a lunatic. “Okay, what’s up and hurry. Your time runs out when the third quarter starts.”
“I need you to intervene with Yael for me.” Why beat around the bush?
“Have you lost your mind or do you have spare wings somewhere? Ram will tear the living daylights out of you.” Sam pierced him with a look of disbelief.
“Look, will you help me or not?”
“This has got to involve Morta.” Sam’s head bowed and shook from side to side. “What’s going on?”
“Can’t you just get Yael here then I’ll only have to say it one time? You can listen. If she doesn’t agree, it won’t matter. She goes home and nothing’s ever said.”
“Man, you’re crazy and you got twelve minutes before game time.”
Samael was so damn good he nodded and Yael stood in front of them.
“You’d better have a good reason for this,” she stated calmly.
“Talk to Uriel over there and you two need to speed it up.” Sam whisked from the room, and in seconds, returned to his seat with a lager. “Twelve minutes to game time and I’m pissed my team is losing.”
“Look, Yael, I’m sorry about Patricia and Osce. I mean it.” Osce was an exulted, a human who for excellent service to God had been raised to Heaven in a higher form. Not human anymore and not quite angel, exulted carried a lot of power, depending on who sponsored them. Uri had sponsored Osce, and no angel could hold power over him. Uri now knew better than to even try. Uri had attempted to teach Osce respect by kidnapping the woman he was falling for, Patricia, who was Yael’s best friend. “I need your help and it involves a child.”
“What?” Yael’s eyes opened wide.
“Well, there was a father who repented, and I absolved him, but his son has cancer and is slated for death. The child’s father doesn’t deserve to have his kid die and I need some time to make Morta understand.”
A smile curved Yael’s lips. He had her.
“Where is he?” she asked.
“Well, there’s a slight problem. I only have his soul.” Uri waved his hand and the spirit of a toddler appeared. He was probably not much younger than Yael’s daughter.
“My God, Uriel, what have you done?”
“Don’t worry, he still lives and if you care for his soul, he’ll be fine. No one must know. Do you understand?” Ram is going to kill me.
“Hello, little one.” Yael quickly forgot Uri and tried to coax the child out of his shell. She lifted him in her arms. Uri’s choice of protector was perfect.
“Five minutes to game time, people. Finish it.”
“Shut up, Sam.” Yael could move the wind and bring storms and she was a force to be reckoned with. Not even the Grim Reaper scared her, and for good reason. Her and Ram’s powers together could alter the universe. “I’ll take him but you don’t fool me, Uri. Work your problem out with Morta so this child can go home. Do you understand?” Yael disappeared.
She’d been gone only seconds when Samael glared at him. “You, my friend, are fucked the minute Ramiel hears about this.” Sam riveted his attention back to his TV. “Game time, get the hell out.”
Uri glimmered out of sight. You didn’t mess with Death and his football game.
He streaked toward his home in the bowels of Earth.
* * * * *
His plan worked better than he’d imagined. The sun had yet to set, so there would be more time to prepare for Morta’s visit. The home he spent most of his time in had almost been restored to its former beauty and he couldn’t wait for her to see it. It was bad enough God forced him to reside beneath the earth’s crust in Hell to keep an eye on Lucifer, but to leave him so alone made it even worse. A huge brass bed sat in the alcove. Plush pillows mounded at the headboard and soft Egyptian cotton sheets would feel good against their naked bodies. He had yet to use his bed, refusing to sleep in it until Morta lay beside him. He wanted their first time in his home to be perfect. Thousands of candles twinkled and reflected off the crystal walls. Her porcelain skin would glisten under the soft glow. Flames licked at wood in a fireplace that gave the space just the right touch of warmth.
Without turning, he knew exactly when she arrived, because the room brightened. “Thank you for coming.” Morta took his breath away. Her violet eyes flashed. Luscious lips quivered in anger and made him want her all the more.
“Enough with your game, Uri. When do I get the child’s soul?”
“When I get you.”
“That will never happen. You may have my body, but you will never have me,” Morta grated between clenched teeth. “I hate you for this.”
“Your anger will only make it more exciting for us. Come here.”
“Screw you.”
This wasn’t going to be easy. “Why must you fight me at every turn?” He strode to where she stood. Lifting her in his arms, he carried Morta to his bed and dropped her to her feet. “You’re mine.”
“I’ll never be yours.” She shivered against him.
Hah! Morta was weak with desire. Her scent assailed his nostrils and he breathed it deeply. His penis shoved hard against his zipper. “Then I will have to be satisfied with what I can have.” Uri had run out of patience. “Undress, Morta. Don’t make me do it for you.” His eyes roamed her body, “You might like it.”
Anger and lust filled his voice. If Morta continued to fight him, how far would Uri go? She had already lost this battle. Liquid dripped from her core at the idea of having him inside her. He could make her clothes vanish with a thought, so why did he play with her? She remembered mind fucking him years ago in Michael’s study. How hard he’d come in his pants when she let him feel the tightness of her pussy. She had given him the vision of being in her ass and he exploded. And their scene at the club. His hand brought her to orgasm so sweetly.
“I won’t. If you want me undressed, tear them from me.” Had she lost her mind? Uri’s eyes lit with something aside from anger and it made her blood boil. She’d challenged him and he would answer it.
“As you wish.” A hand went to the back of her neck as the other fisted the light material and ripped it from her body. She stood in nothing but her underthings. “You are so fucking beautiful.”
His hands covered her breasts and pinched her nipples so hard she gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. Air hissed from her nostrils. “Go to hell.” Soon she’d have no fight in her. Her body belonged to him and she could do nothing to stop this. Morta didn’t want it to stop. She resisted only because she had to, or her soul would be lost to Uri forever. That could not happen.
Uri’s half-lidded eyes seduced her. “I built this home for us and it’s lonely here without you.”
“Fuck you.”
“That’s what I want.”
He tore the bra from her body, the pain of it was so sweet, she did cry out. His hand moved down her stomach and into her panties. Jesus, I’m coming. Morta’s body shuddered with an orgasm. And he hadn’t even entered her. “Uri, please.” She gulped air.
“Please what?”
“Fuck me, now.” The Fate who cut the threads of life had just severed her own.
There was no turning back.
He bent his head to shower kisses along her neck. His teeth nibbled on her ear before his tongue flicked the tender skin that set her heart galloping faster. “Tell me what you want. I’ll give you the world.”
His fingers found the folds of her pussy and he ravaged her. Her body moved against him but Morta needed more. “Put them inside me.” He did. One, then two fingers found their way into her soaked channel and he pushed deep. His hand built to a rhythm that caused her pelvis to shove back and forth. He stopped only long enough to tear her panties off. “Ahhh,” Morta sighed.
She’d finally have Uri in the way she wanted him. It’s what she needed, what she wanted. Her shaking hands moved to his back. His muscles contracted beneath them, drawing more caresses from her. She tugged at his hair hard, trying to force his lips to hers. Those sweet, full lips she’d dreamed about and imagined on her mouth, on her body. Everywhere he wanted to use them.
“Is this what you want, baby?” He continued to invade her canal.
“Yes, no…” Delirious with need, she begged, “More.” It was all she managed to get out before his lips smothered hers. His tongue scoured her mouth, taking everything. She held nothing from him. He pushed her back until her legs hit the bed. His fingers left her and Morta cried, “No!” Her butt landed on the mattress.
“Yes, I need to taste you.” Uri dropped to his knees and her hands dove into his thick, long hair as she spread her legs as far as she could to accommodate him. She dug fingernails into his scalp and urged him to the entrance of her core. The first lick of his tongue sent shivers coursing through Morta and she trembled. The next stroke made her release more cream. “Give me more,” he mouthed against her pussy.
Buried between her legs, his tongue lashed at her like a whip. It stabbed into her with abandon and almost brought another orgasm. Her body became a quivering mass while he teased with slow, sure strokes across her labia. He flicked her clit and sucked it until a constant string of moans escaped her throat. They reverberated through her chest, traveled the walls of the room and made her want more of what he was doing to her.
“Stand up.” Uri grasped her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. He turned her toward the bed and bent her over. Grabbing some pillows, he stuffed them beneath her stomach so he wouldn’t have to bend too far to reach her pussy.
Repent in Love Page 2