Archangel of Mercy

by Christina Ashcroft

  “I don’t understand?” One hand wrapped around her throat and her pulse skittered against his fingers, erratic and sensuous. He plunged his other hand through her hair, grasped the back of her head. Her lips parted but she didn’t attempt to escape. “You breach dimensions and then have the audacity to try and seduce me.”

  Her fingers clawed along his throat and whether by accident or design the movement brought her up against his body. He tightened his grip in her hair and his other hand molded the curve of her breast and cupped her succulent nipple in the palm of his hand.

  “You were the one with the hard-on.” She sounded torn between disgust and desire. “Didn’t see you trying to fight me off.”

  He pinched her nipple between thumb and forefinger and her eyes widened, but she didn’t retreat. Instead she dug her nails into his neck and the pain was sharp and erotic and sent splinters of fire ricocheting straight to his groin.

  “How did I end up in Ireland?” He growled the question, hating to ask a human such a thing but needing to know whether Aurora—unimaginable as it was—was responsible.

  She slid her fingers into his hair, tugged viciously. A primitive groan tore his throat and he tweaked her irresistible nipple in retaliation.

  “I don’t know,” she gasped as she writhed in his merciless grip. “You just suddenly appeared.”

  He dragged his fingers through her hair, tugging on tangles, watching her face, daring her to complain. “I could enter your mind, tear it apart.” His hand slid down her back, tracing her spine. “Find everything there is to know about you. Is that what you want?”

  “What are you?” She tore into his skull and involuntarily he gritted his teeth and gripped the tempting curve of her ass. Was she naked beneath this minuscule skirt? “A demon?” And then she hissed in apparent outrage as he gripped harder, parting her butt cheek. Fuck, but he wanted to see her smooth, rounded ass framed in this decadent scarlet leather.

  “Try again.”

  “You don’t act like an angel.”

  He offered her a feral grin, abandoned her breast and molded the curves of her body before lifting her skirt and pressing his hand against the small of her back. A slender leather thong whispered against his flesh. Not naked. The knowledge didn’t diminish his erection at all.

  “That’s because I’m an archangel, sweetheart.” He slid his thumb beneath the slip of leather and tugged, so it tightened against her sensitive pussy. She stumbled against him, shock radiating, but whether that was because of his action or revelation he didn’t know.

  Didn’t care.

  “Archangel?” Her voice was husky, awed. She even stopped gouging his skull. “The Archangel Gabriel?” For a second he thought she sounded disbelieving, but clearly lust was interfering with his brain processes.

  “That’s right.” And if she fainted with shock now he was going to be seriously pissed.

  Desire-glazed blue eyes gazed up at him and her hands dropped to his shoulders. Her lips parted but no question followed, only the ragged sound of her breath. He lowered his head to savor that mouth, to taste and plunder as he took them back to his island. And then she spoke. “What happened to your wings?”

  She dared to ask about his wings? Ancient rage collided with his lust. She had no right to question him on anything—but least of all on that.

  “Don’t you ever,” he snarled, clamping his hands on her hips, “dare bring that up again.”

  Her eyes widened, as if he had just said something outrageous. Then she thumped his chest with both hands and that was so unexpected she managed to give herself leverage to twist sideways and out of his grip.

  “Get out of here.” She’d fallen onto her hands again, and shot him a look of loathing over her shoulder as she attempted to crawl away. “I want to—”

  He gripped her hips, pulled her back, the image of her ass peeking from beneath the ragged hem of the skirt burning his retinas.

  “What do you want?” Brutally he jammed her against the rigid length of his erection. “This?”

  “Let go of me.” She wriggled from her waist, her hips swiveling and his cock welcomed the torturous friction. “You bastard. You can’t treat me like this.”

  He wound one arm around her waist, effectively holding her captive. He ran his other hand up the length of her back and pushed her hair over her shoulder. Leaning over her he grazed his teeth against the vulnerable curve of her neck and smiled with grim satisfaction at the tremors that attacked her silky-soft skin.

  “I can do whatever the hell I please.”

  She continued to glare at him, her eyes dark with renewed desire and simmering fury. No hint of fear tainted the air, no terror that her life hung in the balance. No lingering tendril of awe.

  Just raw lust. He could see she hated how much her body wanted him. At least they were equal in that because he was incensed by how desperately he craved this primitive joining.

  Her uneven breath fanned his face. She stopped wiggling, as if realizing every move she made did nothing but increase the scorching need between them.

  “What does that make you, then?”

  He lowered his head and nipped her succulent flesh between his teeth. She gasped in shock, jerked back against him and didn’t immediately pull away.

  Too late now. His arm tightened around her waist as he savored the taste of her on his tongue, between his lips. She moaned in sensual defeat as he marked her in a primal gesture of possession, as his mouth claimed the curve of her neck.

  “Told you once. Your savior.” His mocking response against her ear caused her to shiver and she bucked, as if trying to throw him off. “Stop fighting it. You want this as much as I do.”

  “You arrogant”—she appeared to be struggling for an adequate insult and he sucked her earlobe into his mouth, toying with her crystal stud with his tongue—“archangel.”

  Still holding her securely in one arm, his other hand skimmed her waist, hips and naked silken thighs. In his mind’s eye he saw the slutty scarlet garters she wore and the lace burned his fingers.

  “You want me to stop?” He growled the words against her ear as he slid his hand between her thighs to cup her sex. Gods. The strip of leather, far from impeding his access, was crotchless.

  Pure lust stabbed through his groin, a ferocious primal imperative to take and conquer. She was hot, wet and bucked helplessly as he stroked his fingers over her swollen clit.

  “Yes. Yes,” she panted, squirming in his arm. She was no longer looking at him. Her head dipped, her hair spread across her shoulders and her butt rubbed against his cock in delirious abandon.

  He slid one finger inside and she clenched her muscles, entrapping him in a silken cocoon. He gritted his teeth, closed his eyes and breathed in her evocative, erotic scent.

  “Why?” His voice was hoarse, and he slid a second finger into her. Gods, this was torture. He could taste her impending orgasm, could feel the erratic thunder of her heart against his arm. And still she denied her need.

  “Because . . . you’re . . .” She appeared to lose her train of thought as tremors licked through her. He stopped circling her clit, slowly withdrew his exploring fingers. “A bastard.”

  He slid his fingers, coated in her juices, over her soft curls. Back and forth. Enough to tantalize, not enough to send her over the edge.

  “So what?” He dragged his gaze down her back and focused on where her ass wedged against his groin. “It doesn’t matter what you think of me. It doesn’t matter what I think of you. This has nothing to do with any of that.”

  Her head swung up, then fell again as if the effort was too great. “It does matter.”

  Still stroking her sex he cradled her breast in his other hand, flicking his thumb over her erect nipple. Choked moans spilled from her lips and liquid heat spilled over his teasing fingers. Blood thundered in his temples, his vision blurred and Aurora’s powerful arousal tormented him with every rasping breath he took.

  “Don’t you want my cock insi
de you? Fucking you as you’ve never been fucked before?” Damn her, why did she resist? This need had throbbed between them from the moment they’d met. Why did she have to complicate a perfectly simple act?

  “Yes.” It tore from her throat as if against her will.

  With a primal hiss, Gabe wrenched his pants open. He rose on his knees, gripped her hips and angled her for his viewing pleasure. Her rounded ass tempted him, framed in tattered red leather, and her gleaming pussy mesmerized him. “It’s just a fuck, Aurora.” He scarcely recognized his own voice. “Get it out our system. Just one godsdamn fuck.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  THROUGH the thunder that pounded in his head he heard Aurora’s hiss of outrage, felt the renewed wave of fury radiate from her. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but slaking this damn need and then they’d both be able to think clearly.

  At least, he would.

  His cock nudged her wet slit and she bucked, as if in shock, but she didn’t squirm away, didn’t tell him to go to hell. Her heat scorched, and while an inexplicable whisper in his mind craved to prolong this moment, to savor and cherish the first time he entered her tempting body, the moment for tender foreplay had long passed.

  He thrust into her and an agonized groan tore from his throat as her tight sheath expanded around him. She fell forward, cradling her head on her arms, and he heard her staggered gasps of shock.

  Damn, she felt good. Hot and wet and so fucking tight around him he could hardly breathe. Hardly think. He pulled out, an excruciating drag of flesh against flesh, and stared, mesmerized, at the sight of his cock invading her irresistible pussy.

  She quivered and it was too much. He slid into her again and her embrace was silken fire, licking over and into his cock, igniting his blood and infecting his sanity. He palmed her ass, and as she bucked against his thrust the view and friction was so erotic another low growl burned his throat.

  He reached around, found her sensitized clit and tortured her as she tortured him. Her thrusts matched his, a frenzied maelstrom of mindless lust and ragged breaths. She choked on her incoherent words, squeezed him tight and convulsed in waves of raw, uninhibited pleasure.

  And tipped him over the edge. He gripped her thigh and pumped into her, hot and furious and it was so fucking good, felt so fucking right to fill her with his seed, hear her erratic gasps, and feel her body tremble at his onslaught.

  He collapsed, bracing his weight on his hands as he knelt over her, still inside her, entrapping her and inhaling her evocative scent of sex and satiation. Satisfaction hummed in his blood but it was a fleeting satisfaction as, captured by her silken heat, his cock remained as hard as ever. Deep in his mind a warning stirred but he couldn’t think why. Couldn’t think. Because he needed her again, wanted her again, and there was no reason why he couldn’t—

  She suddenly severed their connection by sprawling onto the floor. Well, hell. They were still in Eblis’s club. The realization that he’d forgotten their surroundings stunned him. He reached down and brushed the tangled hair from her face. Her mouth was open and she was sucking in oxygen as if she’d almost drowned. Her cheeks were flushed and she didn’t turn to look at him.

  “Hey.” His voice was raw. “Aurora.”

  Her eyelashes flickered open, as if it took great effort. He shifted so he knelt next to her and could see her face properly. Still cushioning her head on her arms, she gave him an exhausted glance before dropping her gaze to his groin.

  His body’s response was so obvious she might just as well have reached out and gripped him. He wanted and intended her to, but not here. They’d done seedy. Now he wanted her back at his villa so they could take their time.

  “Finished?” Her voice was breathless, but that didn’t disguise the disgust. “Is that it now?”

  Irritation slashed through the post-sex euphoria that had temporarily eased his rage. “Do I look finished?” The irritation mounted when she turned her blue gaze up to him and he saw the rage reflected. What the hell was she mad about?

  “You tell me.” She pushed herself upright and winced, biting her lip, as if every move drove broken glass through her bones. “It was just one goddamn fuck after all. Nothing special.”

  Blood pounded against his temples as he stared at her in mute disbelief. It might not have been one of his finest moments, but how could she sit there and say it had been nothing special for her?

  “That remark might carry more weight”—he injected as much derision in his voice as possible, although he was still reeling from her sheer nerve—“if your orgasm hadn’t damn near fried your brains.”

  Her face heated and eyes sparkled with fury. Fascination threaded through his anger, and that just made him madder than ever. But still he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her.

  “That doesn’t mean a lot.” In his peripheral vision he saw the way she fisted her hands in her lap, as if she’d love nothing better than to punch him in the balls. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you just poked a mental probe in to do all the work for you.”

  He’d lost count long ago of how many females he’d taken. Few were memorable. But no matter how good or indifferent the sex had been from his viewpoint it was always spectacular from theirs. How could it not? Their libidos were already sizzling before he even touched them, simply by virtue of who he was.

  Bedding an archangel was, he’d discovered in his far distant youth, a powerful aphrodisiac on its own for pure mortals.

  No one, mortal or otherwise, had ever accused him of short-circuiting their brains in order to bring about climax. That Aurora had even considered such a thing, never mind had actually spelled it out with insulting disregard, astounded him.

  And then the unwelcome image of a pair of redheads spiked the outer reaches of his mind. It was like a frigid slap across his testicles, except instead of diminishing the rabid lust that polluted his reason, it escalated.

  “Not my problem if your sexual hang-ups can’t cope with the reality.” He realized he was glaring but couldn’t stop himself. How did this woman manage to rile him so easily? “Get used to it.” Because before he’d finished with her she would be under no illusion that he needed to cheat before she fell apart with mindless delirium.

  “Get used to it?” Her mocking echo caused his phantom feathers to bristle with offense. “Why? We’ve done it once, got it out of our system. That was the deal, right?”

  The deal? Her belligerent demand thundered in his brain and then, finally, the reason for the faint warning bells in his mind smashed through his consciousness.

  He wasn’t supposed to want her again. Not instantly, anyway. Fuck, when had he ever wanted to go a second round with the same female without so much as an alcohol break?

  Why hadn’t his brain cleared?

  He was the Archangel Gabriel and he was on his knees in a shitty bathroom attempting to reason with a shrew of a human. A human he’d just fucked. By rights she was the one who should be on her knees before him, worshipping at his feet, mindless with gratitude at the honor he’d tossed her way.

  For one shocking moment words entirely eluded him.

  “Well?” She shifted gingerly, as if her ass hurt to sit on. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you? So now you can let me go.”

  “Don’t try that one.” He was torn between shoving his unabashed erection back inside his pants or down Aurora’s throat. “You were all but begging for it back in Ireland.”

  She snarled and yet again fascination with her extraordinary responses flooded his senses. Not even the few minor goddesses he’d laid had displayed such breathtaking arrogance. And at least in their cases they’d have reason for it. Aurora, with her heritage, had none.

  “All right.” Somehow she managed to grind the words between her teeth. “So I did want you. And now I’ve paid the price. So we’re even.”

  Even? If he didn’t have the urge to throttle her, he would’ve laughed. Even? She wasn’t even close.

  Apparently she wasn’t finishe
d, either.

  “And now you can take me home.”

  Frustration ripped through him, a dangerous addition to the lust and fury that already warred for dominance. They were back to where they’d started and the only possible solution to her predicament condemned them both.

  “How many times do I have to repeat myself?” Probably ten times a day for the next sixty years. “You go back and the Guardians will take you. And I’ll tell you this—vivisection will be the least of your worries then.”

  For a moment sheer terror flashed over her face, but she wrapped her arms around her waist, apparently forgetting about her exposed nipples, and collected herself. Despite his personal feelings he couldn’t deny the stir of grudging respect.

  “But they’re not after me anymore. I’m safe now.”

  “What?”

  She gnawed her lip for a second as if reluctant to continue. He found that hard to believe. She didn’t normally have that problem.

  “You gave me your protection.” She shot him a look as if she couldn’t decide whether she should be grateful or insulted by his protection. “And now the Guardians can’t touch me.”

  “Yeah, about that.” He leaned into her space, daring her to retreat. To her credit she didn’t. And still her blue eyes threatened to deceive him with their innocence. “You managed to negate my protection the second you breached dimensions.”

  Aurora glared into Gabe’s eyes and told herself he was lying. Except deep in her heart she knew he wasn’t.

  She’d succeeded in the first part of her plan. And the consequences of that one act were so devastating it looked like she was going to pay the price for the rest of her life.

  There was a time for bravado and there was a time for humility. And as much as she wanted right now to tell Gabe exactly what she thought of him, he was also the only one who might—could—help her.

  “I didn’t know I was breaking some sort of cosmic law.” She struggled to keep her voice even, but it was impossible. No matter how she tried to block the memories from her mind, her body still quivered with despicable shocked pleasure in the aftermath of her shattering orgasm.