“Taste it, baby,” he pleaded.
She shook her hair out of the way and leaned over him. Her tongue flicked out and nudged the crown of his cock. Leaning down even more, she circled the tip and lapped at the tender ridge of skin surrounding the cap.
“Yes, yes,” he groaned forcing his hips up. “More, suck it.” Air hissed from his mouth when her lips covered the head of his penis.
Mort swallowed it all. Uri watched her cheeks sink in when she pulled up until she held only the head in her mouth. Plunging back down, she took all of him again. Up and down, over and over, she took his cock. Each time she drew up, his hips rose from the mattress, not wanting her mouth to let him go.
Her sultry purple gaze over the flared top of his cock was Uri’s undoing. “Stop.” He tensed his body, hoping to suspend the urge to come in her mouth. The vixen smiled at him and latched back on to his knob and sucked him so deep her lips touched his nuts.
“Damn it,” he bellowed as he pulled from her mouth, grasped her waist and raised her, flipping her onto her back.
Uri wedged her knees apart, and with one hand he placed the head of his shaft at the entrance to her channel. With one sharp push, he entered her.
“Ooh, yes.”
With his hands placed on either side of her head, Uri began to move inside her with long strokes. He pushed his cock in and out so fast, so hard Morta grunted each time he slammed into her.
“You’re all I’ll ever need, baby,” he whispered. Uri claimed her, made her his, with each shove inside her hot pussy. “Mine, all mine.”
“Take me, Uri.” She arched up and gave him more and more. “Take everything I have.”
He couldn’t get enough as he ground into her pelvis. In and out, he took what was his, and gave her everything.
Let me in, let me feel what you feel.
Morta opened her mind and joined him in a way only angels could be together.
They meshed into one being—felt what each other felt.
Her body shuddered beneath him as her climax climbed from deep inside. Sound gathered in her throat and escaped in one long, drawn-out moan as he continued to stroke in and out of her canal. Joined with her mentally, he reveled in the feeling of her orgasm sliding through her channel and washing over his cock.
It wasn’t enough. Uri wanted, needed, more.
He rolled to his back, carrying Morta with him, and never losing contact, she now sat astride his hips.
Uri cupped her breasts and played with her peaks, pinching and working them with his fingers. He rubbed his palm across the nubs, making them harder. Mewls and purrs slipped from her lips and she stretched her back like a cat. Moving his hands to span her waist, he lifted her up and down, hard and fast.
I’m coming, Mort. Oh, baby, it’s yours.
His hips jutted up in short bursts, filling her over and over again with his cock. Uri’s feet dug into the mattress and he growled, Take it, take what belongs to you.
Cum pumped from his dick and filled her pussy with warm cream.
Morta collapsed on top of him, her face buried in his shoulder.
Bite me, honey, taste my life. Share everything I am.
When her teeth broke the flesh, Uri trembled beneath her. Her tongue swirled in small circles around the wound, taking his life’s blood.
Joined in a way that could never be severed.
Uri laid her beside him and folded her into his arms. He liked feeling her tight ass pressed against his cock.
They drifted off together.
Snatched from sleep, he felt the pull and before he could speak, he was dragged from his bed. His body doubled in pain as he was taken into the black vortex of the Grim Reaper.
Midnight.
His soul screamed out to her. Still viscerally connected, Uri felt her anguish before he heard her cry.
No!
* * * * *
Morta had tried everything to reach Uri but he’d shut her out. She twirled senselessly in a black hole. Nothing. Samael’s essence was distinctive. She smelled him everywhere. Her nostrils flared, trying to find the direction he traveled but it was impossible to follow Death. She refused to involve her sisters or Ram and Yael. If Sam had been sent by the Father, Michael was the only one who could help her.
Landing just outside his office, she banged the door open without knocking. Breath caught in her throat as she saw him slumped in a chair behind his desk and Ram sitting in a seat beside Osce.
“Where is he?”
“Morta, sit.” Michael’s shoulders remained hunched.
“Not until someone tells me what’s happening.”
“Samael took him with Marmaroth to the Father.” Michael stood and moved slowly to the window. She watched him roll his head and shoulders. “There’s nothing we can do but wait.”
“He wouldn’t shut me out, Michael. I can’t reach him.”
The general fixed her with a glare. “You can’t feel him at all?”
“No.”
“Then he’s…protecting you.”
“From what?” She spun around to Ramiel. “You can help me get to him.”
“But I won’t.” He peered at the man beside him and she caught the meaning in his subtle movement. Osce had a tie to Uriel no one else did.
Her eyes narrowed on Osce, who had been Uri’s exulted and still carried some of his power. She lanced into his mind with every ounce of magic she had, crumpling his body to the floor. Twisting in pain, he bowed upward and cringed. Ice formed and dropped from Mort’s hair, hitting the wood beneath her feet like shards of glass. She stretched her hands skyward and the tips of her fingers grew blue from the air she zapped from the room.
Osce groaned, “Morta—”
Lightning bolts lit the black sky outside the window as gale force winds blew the panes out in a loud pop and yanked the curtains from their rods. Material billowed in slow motion to the floor. A guttural growl filled the space, shaking the walls and foundation of Michael’s palace. His treasured books thumped loudly to the floor.
Uriel slammed into the center of the room.
His brows knitted together and his face contorted in surprise. Both hands palm-down on the floor, he remained on one knee with his enormous black-edged wings spread wide. “Damn it, Morta.” He twisted his body to glare at Osce and bellowed, “Why did you help her?”
Osce’s body relaxed and bumped back to the surface. “I wasn’t given a choice.” He chewed his lips and hissed as he sat up, placing his back to the chair. He turned to peer at Ram. “Would this be why I got dragged out of my fucking bed?”
“You got it.” Ramiel smiled. “Told you I’d be there and I thought your stubborn ass would need a little help. Welcome back.”
“Bastard, you’re lucky we were done. Don’t think Dad would have taken kindly to me being yanked from his presence.” He spun around to Morta. “What do you think you were doing?” He unfolded his long, nude angel form from the floor.
“I was afraid and I thought you’d need me.”
“Will I ever be able to keep you out of my mind or harm’s way?” Uri flapped his wings down to his side.
Ramiel’s quiet laughter filled the space. “Get used to it.”
A warm gust of air flowed through the windows, carrying the scent of jasmine.
Marmaroth.
He floated across the room to stand directly in front of Morta. “I believe these are yours.” Tears gathered in her eyes as she looked at the violets in his outstretched hand. “He repented for his sins and has been forgiven. You are free to love him.”
Uri moved to stand behind her. His wings fanned out and enclosed Morta in a tight embrace. “There are rules and you may not want to abide by them.”
Gazing over her shoulder at Uri she whispered, “Nothing matters except being with you.”
Uriel sighed. “Listen to what he has to say, honey.”
Marmaroth glared at her. “Death is a part of life, and now you must share it with Uriel. He must understand all t
hat you do and he must endure the pain of taking souls. There is a catch. Unlike you, he will not receive God’s solace. In turn, you will know what the Nephilim feel. You will assist the angel of repentance in keeping the world safe from their evil and indiscretions.” His hands trembled as sadness rimmed his blue eyes leaving dark shadows beneath them. “That will include my son whom you must recruit without using magic to work with you.”
Wishing she was hidden from their prying eyes, Morta slumped against Uriel. The angel responsible for the Fates had to place his son in her care. “Marmaroth…”
His hand flashed up. “There is one more thing.” He turned to look at Michael as he spoke. “You will no longer be able to bond mentally with your sisters.”
“No!” She flinched.
Uri’s wings unfolded, releasing her to spin around and face him.
“It’s the only way. I can’t be allowed to see their mind through yours. I’m not equipped to bear all of fate.”
She peered around him at Michael hoping for help. “I wouldn’t be able to feel Decima and Nona?”
His eyes were glassy. “The Father has spoken. It’s your choice.”
Morta gazed at Uriel. She needed him to be whole. But not to ever again feel her sister’s thoughts? Being unable to help alleviate their pain when spinning life or deciding on how long life would be. What if it became too much for them? How would they live without knowing her mind?
Uri’s hands stroked down her sides and rested on her hips. He pulled her close and kissed her eyelids, her cheeks. Moisture from her salty tears shined on his lips. “I’ll love you no matter what you decide. And know this—they’ll never be able to erase you from my mind. I will have the memories of everything we’ve shared.” He lifted her chin up with a finger. “I will give you whatever you want. Even freedom.” His lips touched hers softly. “I love you more than my own life.”
Embracing Uriel, Morta rested her head on his chest. It was Marmaroth she needed to respond to. She included Uri and used their mental bond to respond. I will care for your son. She peered up through her lashes at her archangel. We will care for your son.
Thank you. Marmaroth turned to face Michael. “She has chosen. I will never again have access to the mind of the Fate responsible for ending life.”
He vanished on a soft breeze, leaving the sweet smell of desert jasmine behind.
Ramiel prepared to leave but she stopped him. “The child, can he go home?”
The sound of metal scraping against wood drew everyone’s attention to the door. “I can answer that.” Sam sank down into the chair by Michael’s desk and dropped his scythe with a clang. “The kid is allowed to go home.” He glared at everyone around the room, and burning red dots pinpointed each person’s face. “I’m not going to play these silly-ass games with any of you from now on. I have a job to do. “If it involves your mother, your sister or your brother, I. Will. Take. Their. Souls.” He made sure he had everyone’s attention. “You’ve all fucked with me long enough and I don’t like losing.” Glancing at Michael, he added, “You can spell me for a while.” His smile was weak. “After all, you handle doling out death real well. I’m taking some time off.”
Standing, he reached for his tool. “Oh, almost forgot, Morta, this is for you.” Before anyone could move, the Grim Reaper hooked the tip of the scythe in her right hip. Blood seeped through her clothing.
Uri grunted as he lunged across the room. Osce jumped into his path and grabbed his shoulder. “Not a fight you want to pick, my friend.”
“Aww, come on, it didn’t hurt that bad did it? Let him go, Osce. I can use some fun.” A death rattle left Sam’s throat.
They all cringed and reached to cover their ears.
Everyone except Michael. “Samael, don’t you have a new TV and a football game to watch or something?” The general chuckled, but Mort couldn’t see anything funny.
“It’s three in the morning, why would a game be on?”
“Go watch a rerun then, get out of my office.”
“You’ll change your tune in less than a week doing my job. It’s a whole new world out there and everyone in it has gone absofuckinglutely nuts.” He turned back to face Morta and Uri. “You got matching Nephilim alarms, one right, one left. As always, it’s been a pleasure dealing with you assholes.” A hot shower of orange sparks popped and fizzled out on the floor where Sam had stood.
Osce said to Uri, “And I thought you were crazy.”
Glaring at him for a long time, Uri pulled his wings in and fabricated a pair of black slacks. His chest shined with sweat so he didn’t bother with a shirt. He moved to stand in front of Osce. When he reached for his face, Osce raised his hand and blocked him.
“Not today, brother. There’s a lady who thinks the scar is sexy. But let’s leave the invitation open to remove it some other time.” Osce grabbed the man by the shoulder. “Thanks for wanting to take it away. Just take care of Morta, she’s a great lady.”
“I know.”
Osce disappeared in his own shower of hot sparks.
“For Chrissakes, could everyone else just walk out? I’ll need to replace my whole damn floor and every book in my library at this rate.”
Michael’s words were heeded.
Morta exited in front of Uri and Ram. She moved a bit down the hallway to give the two time to talk. She didn’t need to hear what was said. They hugged each other as men do when they care. Her hand went to her heart. It thudded hard against her ribcage.
These two needed each other as much as she needed Uri.
Repent and hope—together again.
After Ram vanished, Uri took her hand. “Come with me.”
They left a trail like a comet as they soared to Earth. They entered the hospital room where the child lay limply in the bed. His parents had just had the machines disconnected.
Unseen by the humans in the room, Morta and Uri leaned over the boy’s bed. She planted a soft kiss on his forehead and Uri touched a finger to his small chest.
He gasped in a breath of air and cried out, “Daddy!”
Reaching Uri’s earthly domain, he lifted Morta and spun her around in his arms, holding on so tight she could barely breathe. “Mine,” he murmured against her lips.
“Forever,” she replied, her legs tight around his waist.
* * * * *
Michael sat quietly behind his desk, lonely for the first time in a thousand years. He wondered how he’d keep tabs on all of his charges with things changing so fast. He sensed Decima before she reached his door. Her smell was so sweet. Using magic, he flung it wide open. “Come, talk to me.” Dec’s bluish-gray eyes were full of unshed tears and he couldn’t stand the sight.
“I’m going to miss my sister, Michael.”
“Maybe now you’ll have room for other things in your life.” Standing, he moved slowly toward her. “Playing the angel of death can’t take up that much of my time.”
The End
About J. Hali Steele
J. Hali Steele wishes she could grow fur, wings or fangs so she can stay warm, fly or just plain bite the crap out of... Well, since she can't, she would much rather roam where her fictional big cats live—in the high desert of California. She enjoys spending time with her sisters and friends who willingly listen to her ramblings about the paranormal world and anything else that goes bump in the night. They're a captive audience, but she promises to untie them soon!
A multi-published author and a member of RWA (PAN), when J. Hali's not writing, she can be found snuggled in front of the TV with a good book, a cat in her lap and a cup of coffee.
Hali welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
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Repent in Love
ISBN 9781419930874
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Repent in Love Copyright © 2015 J. Hali Steele
Edited by Susan Edwards
Cover Design by Dar Albert
Electronic book publication May 2015
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