Archangel of Mercy

by Christina Ashcroft

  “What”—his whisper in her ear was seductively wicked—“would you like me to do?”

  Decadent thoughts of dirty, uninhibited sex pounded through her mind. She didn’t have the slightest doubt he could fulfill every fantasy she’d ever had, and then some.

  Her body softened, opened, begged for more. She screwed her eyes shut, gritted her teeth and clawed desperately for a shred of sanity. What the hell had happened to her on the astral planes? Had she completely lost her mind?

  “I meant,” she said, realizing it was easier to articulate her thoughts when she wasn’t actually looking at him. “What are you doing here?”

  His teeth grazed her throat as if he thought she was joking. And then his fingers slowly raked through her hair until he held her in an unmistakable grip of possession.

  “Look at me.” It was a sexy command, his throaty whisper as erotic as if he’d accompanied his demand by stripping her naked. Instead of shocking her rigid, the thought entranced. She battled, in vain, to scrub the image from her mind.

  But somehow she couldn’t stop herself from looking at him.

  He was breathtaking. Just as she’d always imagined a fallen angel must look like, radiating sex and sin from every pore. She wanted to bask in his radiance. What she really needed was to get a grip.

  His gaze scorched her. The half-smile on his kissable lips conveyed he liked what he saw. Despite her good resolve her blood raced at that knowledge.

  It was highly likely he was suffering from a concussion. Since when did guys like him ever want a girl like her?

  Desperately, she dragged her scattered senses together. There had to be a perfectly logical explanation as to why he had suddenly appeared in her garden. Obviously, he had been astral projecting as well, and had got caught up in that weird disruption. Although that still didn’t explain how he’d ended up here and not back from wherever he—

  His mouth claimed hers, and wiped everything else from her mind.

  Sensual and firm, he took instant advantage of her shock by sliding his tongue inside. Her arm dropped to his shoulder, her fingers clenched against rigid muscle, and his lips curved against hers in clear approval.

  She melded to him, bending her knees so she could spread her thighs farther and he rocked against her, his cock so hard, so hot, she wondered how their clothes didn’t incinerate.

  His tongue teased hers, before he explored and plundered her willing mouth, causing whirlpools of arousal everywhere he touched. Feverishly her other hand gripped his biceps, as he braced his weight on that arm. Tremors of delight spiraled through her womb, tightening her need, at the leashed power beneath her exploring fingers.

  He was magnificent. It was like exploring a sculpture of male perfection in the flesh. One hand tangled in his hair, the other clawed his straining shoulder while her tongue penetrated into his wickedly sensuous mouth.

  He sucked on her, long and slow, and she’d never felt anything like it before in her life. A moan vibrated, echoing in their joined mouths, and it took her a moment to realize the sound came from her.

  “That’s it,” he growled against her lips. “Don’t hold back. I want to hear your screams, sweetheart. I want to hear how much you want me inside you.”

  His words inflamed, as vivid images flashed across her mind. She imagined screaming, could even see herself screaming, and her face burned. What was she thinking? She’d never been one to make much noise during sex. Maybe the odd gasp or sigh . . .

  Sex.

  Her breath brushed against his face, as he continued to look down at her with a blatantly possessive half-smile. He was so confident that her surrender was a foregone conclusion. As if there was no doubt that within minutes she’d be screaming mindlessly as she came around his violently thrusting cock.

  To her horror, another passionate moan escaped. She clamped her lips together but it didn’t make any difference. He grinned in triumph and traced one finger across the swell of her breast, circling her aching nipple.

  She could hardly believe the way she was behaving. Anyone would think she was used to strange men dropping in on her with only one thought on their mind. But somehow that didn’t seem very important, when all she wanted was to hold on to this golden vision and never let him go.

  But it didn’t matter what she wanted. As soon as he regained full use of his senses he’d be off. And her only chance to experience a wild, outrageous sexual encounter with a complete stranger would go with him.

  Chapter Two

  GABE had no idea what he was doing in a field. The last thing he remembered was picking up a quartet of females panting for a good time with a couple of archangels. He’d been at the glamour-shrouded club in Manhattan with Mephisto, his partner in hedonistic pleasure, and teleporting into the country hadn’t been part of the plan. Damn, had Mephisto spiked their drinks? What other reason could there be for his inability to remember a simple thing like choosing one woman and bringing her here?

  Wherever the hell here was?

  Not that he was complaining. Not when the woman was so damn hot. Except he didn’t recall seeing her at the club. Even inadvertently stoned he wouldn’t have forgotten eyes as blue and deceptively innocent as hers.

  “I think,” she gasped, and he tweaked her erect nipple, to show her there was no need to think. Her eyes widened in apparent shock, but instead of using her delectable mouth on his, she hitched in an uneven breath. “I think,” she repeated, sounding desperate, which only made him harder than ever, “there’s been some sort of mistake.”

  She had a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. For some reason he found them a turn-on.

  “There’s no mistake.” A thought occurred to him. If she wasn’t one of the four he’d spent half the night with, was it possible he’d grabbed her in error before leaving the club? That would account for why he didn’t recognize her, and explain why she was acting so . . . oddly. “You’re here because I wanted you. No other reason.”

  “No,” she said as her fingers loosened from his hair and fell onto his shoulder. “I don’t think so.”

  He rocked against her, slow and hard, and watched another blush sweep over her face. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen a woman blush. They often became speechless or incoherent when he chose them, but since conversation was the last thing he was looking for when it came to a quick fuck that never bothered him.

  In fact, it suited him fine.

  He wound a silky length of chestnut hair around his finger. Copper highlights glinted in the sun and a faint hint of apples scented the air, momentarily distracting him from his single-minded purpose.

  She washed her hair in apple-scented shampoo. Considering all the exotic fragrances in existence, none of which involved apples, he was vaguely unsure as to why he found the notion enticing.

  But he did. He breathed in deep and this time it wasn’t only apples he inhaled. It was the heady aroma of aroused woman.

  That was more like it.

  “Don’t worry about it.” His lips brushed against hers. Was it possible they hadn’t even spoken in the club before he’d swept her away? No wonder she was convinced he’d got the wrong woman. “Everything’s okay.”

  The strange amnesiac blank in his mind wasn’t in the least bit okay, but he’d figure out the murky details later. Besides, that had nothing to do with the tempting female in his arms.

  “But—” Her breathy whisper against his lips both aroused and astonished him. She was still talking? How could she even manage to articulate words when he was in the middle of seducing her? “It’s not really okay.”

  She could say that again. He pulled back, just enough so he could look into her eyes and give her the full benefit of his archangelic radiance. He rarely resorted to such a blatant ploy but for fuck’s sake he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had uttered the word but when it came to having sex with him.

  The hell he couldn’t. He shoved the memory back into the black pit where all such memorie
s festered.

  Her beautiful blue eyes glittered. They were dark with lust, so that wasn’t the problem. And if that wasn’t the problem, what else could be?

  “You’re afraid someone might be watching?” That was possible. They could be anywhere. Again the question thudded through his mind. Where was he? “You want me to find us somewhere more secluded?”

  She stared at him as if he’d just spoken in archaic Sumerian. Damned if he didn’t find every odd look she gave him enchanting. At this rate he’d be in danger of coming before he even got her naked.

  “What I mean . . . ” She sounded as if every word was agony. He shifted his weight so his cock was more securely wedged against her welcoming pussy. Maybe inane chatter was her version of foreplay.

  He preferred the more hands-on method. Tugging his finger from her hair he caressed the curve of her warm cheek, the angle of her jaw. Traced over her full lips and slid inside.

  She choked, pushed at his finger with her tongue, and he grinned down at her. At least he’d managed to shut her up. And now they could get down to pleasure.

  “Don’t you find any of this just a bit weird?” Her fingernails dug into his shoulder, which was much more satisfying than her feathery touches from a minute ago. Except for the fact she wasn’t doing it to arouse him. “I mean, you don’t even know me.”

  “Sweetheart, if you’d just quit chatting I assure you I’ll waste no time in getting to know you.” He slid his hand under her tank top and cradled the curve of her waist. Naked, warm flesh. Nibbling kisses against her blessedly silent mouth, he palmed her lace-covered breast.

  Exquisite.

  She punched his shoulder. “But how did you get here?”

  Once again he pulled back and stared down at her. He had the eeriest feeling she wasn’t pretending ignorance or faking that edge of panic in her voice. But he couldn’t believe anyone who frequented that Manhattan nightclub could be that innocent. It was the place to be seen this year for those vacuous, jet-setting universals seeking cheap thrills and cheaper sex on the primitive dive called Earth. Even if she was a pureblood mortal without any powers of her own she obviously existed in a social stratosphere that allowed her access to such a lifestyle.

  He slowly tightened his hand around her luscious breast. Her eyes glazed, her lips parted and she gave a seductive little sigh.

  “Don’t you remember how I got here?” He would never confess he couldn’t. But with a bit of luck she would fill in the blanks without even realizing it.

  “Well, you . . . just kind of appeared from nowhere,” she said.

  He gritted his teeth against the rampaging lust and undertow of frustration that seethed through his blood. His loss of memory gnawed through him and it galled that he was hoping a mere mortal might be able to piece his recent actions together.

  “You mean in the club?” He might as well give the impression he knew exactly how they’d both arrived here. “You don’t remember us talking before I brought us here?” Not that talking was ever that high a priority when he hooked up with a female but he could gloss over details if it made her feel better.

  “Club?” Wariness clouded her eyes. “I wasn’t at any club. Were you?” She sounded astonished, as if the notion he might have been in a club was beyond her comprehension.

  Gods, if he hadn’t picked her up at the club where had she come from? Or was she also suffering from selective amnesia and genuinely couldn’t remember what she’d been doing for the last few hours?

  “Sure. The club in Manhattan.” It wouldn’t take a second to contact Mephisto and demand some answers. Problem was, amnesiac or not, this woman had snared his interest in a way few ever did. Crazy, but he realized he’d rather discover the truth from her than a distorted version from Mephisto. But since she still looked completely blank, as if she had never heard of Manhattan, he decided to elaborate. “Earth.”

  “Yes.” Her voice was faint but relief washed through him. For a second there he’d imagined she didn’t even know which planet she was on.

  Did it really matter whether she remembered or not? He wanted her. She was willing. Afterward he’d take her back to the club and see if anyone knew her. Someone was bound to claim her.

  But right now he intended to claim her for himself.

  Chapter Three

  AURORA struggled to think around the erotically charged lightning that stabbed from the tip of her nipple to the sensitive bud of her clit. The golden stranger still pinned her to the ground, his hand clasped possessively over her breast as if their incomprehensible conversation had never occurred.

  How could he have been in a club in Manhattan? She had assumed he’d also been astral projecting when those strange vibrations had shattered the tranquility. That somehow it had catapulted both his spiritual and physical body from one point in the astral planes to another. She might not have ever come across something like that before but who knew what the side effects of such a disturbance might be?

  But the reality appeared even more outrageous. Somehow it had transported this oblivious guy from a club halfway around the world and dumped him on top of her. A mortifying thought hit her. Had she, as impossible as it seemed, shared that spirit-shattering orgasm with him?

  Why wasn’t he completely freaked out? Anyone would think he was used to one moment being out clubbing and the next waking up on some random girl.

  Maybe that was because he did often blackout and wake up on some random girl?

  But if that was the reason he was so relaxed about his odd lapse of memory, why had he felt compelled to explain that the club was on Earth? Where else would it be?

  “You tell me something.” His voice slid through her like rich, warm chocolate, decadent and delicious. “How did you get here?”

  She realized her tongue was lapping desperately at her lips, as if she was trying to taste the forbidden delight. God, how mortifying.

  “I grew up here.” The words were husky, inviting. He probably thought she was a total tart.

  His mouth quirked as if her response amused him, and his thumb circled her nipple, a teasing caress. It was hard to focus on anything else. She curled her toes and forced herself not to squirm with mindless need.

  “And where,” he said, his incredible eyes snaring her sanity once again, “is here?”

  His question sank into her fogged brain through the lust that threatened to completely consume her.

  “Ireland.” Her voice was breathless, partly with desire and partly with nerves at his reaction. What would he do now that he realized he wasn’t even in America anymore, never mind New York?

  His thumb paused in its relentless torture and for the first time she had the feeling he was looking at her—properly. She wasn’t sure she liked the expression on his face. He not only looked as if he didn’t believe her, it was as if he thought she was deliberately lying to him.

  “Ireland?” His gaze roved over her face as if he was committing each feature to memory. And not in a good way. “You’re not trying to tell me you’re indigenous to Ireland?”

  “Yes.” She tried to ignore the glare of incredulity he arrowed her way. It was just a delayed reaction. “Where do you come from?” She couldn’t work out whether he was British or American, and just to further complicate matters every now and then she caught an elusive hint of a strange, exotic accent.

  He dragged his hand from her breast, leaving her cold and abandoned, and braced his weight on either side of her shoulders. He no longer looked in the least bit amused but whatever he was feeling hadn’t yet affected his erection. It was as hard and distracting as ever.

  “That,” he said, sounding feral, “is irrelevant.”

  Obviously he’d imagined she was just another of his one-night stands. That was why he’d indulged in the mind-blowing foreplay. Because he’d had no idea of where he was or what had really happened.

  Then again, neither did she.

  “I know this is all a bit of a shock.” Oh god, was she really trying to re
assure him? She wouldn’t mind a bit of reassurance herself. “Honestly, I have no idea how—”

  He rolled onto his back, flung one arm across his eyes and swore. At least, she assumed he swore by the vehemence and the way he fisted his hands. The language was like nothing she’d ever heard before.

  And yet she had the eeriest sensation that somehow . . . she had.

  While he continued to growl in obvious frustration, Aurora pulled her rumpled tank top down and willed her hands to stop shaking. She was aroused, wet and had an amnesiac stranger to deal with. But at least she had some amazing raw material for future fantasies.

  Her fingers curled around her necklace. She’d worn it constantly since having the piece specially commissioned five years ago, but for once its comforting familiarity didn’t calm her nerves. It didn’t calm her thundering heart, either.

  She chanced another glance at the stranger and despite her faint annoyance with his attitude she couldn’t drag her fascinated gaze away. His dark gold hair spilled over the grass, and while she’d always had a preference for blond guys there was something seriously riveting about this one. His body was all taut muscle and gleaming bronze flesh, like an athlete from ancient Greece. The zipper on his jeans was undone and although she tried not to stare at his black underwear, it was impossible not to. Because the silky material strained over his massive erection, and really where else could a girl look but there?

  Her palms were sweaty, her chest constricted. She screwed her eyes shut for a moment before forcing herself to once again focus on his face. His arm was still flung across his eyes but at least he’d stopped growling. In fact, he was ominously quiet.

  She pushed herself upright and gripped her fingers together on her lap. She was not disappointed that he’d so abruptly pushed away from her. The churning sensation in the pit of her stomach was . . . relief.

  Now she could do what she should have done the moment he’d arrived. Offer him practical help.