Archangel of Mercy

by Christina Ashcroft

  Gods, it was exquisite. Her head nestled between his thighs, her hot breath erratic against his shaft. The erotic feel of her mouth surrounding him, her tongue cushioning him, her teeth claiming him. Her nails digging into the hard muscles of his thigh.

  A strangled groan scraped his throat and he eased his grip on her head. Instantly she slid up a couple of inches, the friction a new kind of sensual torture. And then she gripped him, her fingers tightening around his cock, and it took all his willpower not to shove himself down her tempting throat and empty into her.

  Panting with restrained exertion, he wound her hair around his fists. He watched, transfixed, as she worked the head of his cock with her mouth and tongue. Sucking him so hard his vision blurred and senses shattered. And still she tortured him with her fingers, as she trailed over his rock-hard balls, cradled them in the palm of her hand and then, shockingly, squeezed.

  Fuck. It was too much. He couldn’t hold back any longer. And while the image of her on her knees worshipping his cock was blowing his sanity, he wanted to feel her come around him as he pumped into her tight sheath.

  Aurora could barely breathe, barely think as Gabe filled her mouth and filled her hands. He tasted of sex, of sin, of primal desire and forbidden delights. Already her jaw ached, yet she’d only taken the tip of him into her. Tremors flooded her womb as she recalled how he had thrust deep, choking her, and yet a secret part of her hadn’t wanted him to pull back.

  He gripped her jaw. Her hair was tangled around his hands and she tried to relax, waiting for the thrust. Wanting it. But instead of holding her head still for his further invasion he withdrew.

  His cock, wet from her mouth, mesmerized her, and raw, jagged desire speared through her sensitized sheath. But he didn’t give her the chance to admire any longer as he gripped her forearms and hauled her to her feet.

  “Finished?” The word was breathless, incoherent. Her jaw didn’t feel as if it quite belonged to her and a decadent smile curved her lips at the thought.

  “No.” There was a savage glow in his eyes as if he was on the outer edges of control, and her pulses hammered.

  God, he was beautiful. Unblemished bronze flesh molded his strong, perfectly defined musculature and his golden hair brushed his shoulders. He lifted her roughly in his arms and for one surreal moment she imagined him unfurling his glorious wings, enveloping her in the magical cocoon of softness and strength, the scent of arousal and devotion intoxicating her senses.

  It was just a fantasy. But it felt so real. As if she was remembering another time . . .

  Mephisto. Disappointment cascaded, even as Gabe hoisted her onto the table. She was only recalling the feel of Mephisto’s wings and superimposing the sensation with Gabe.

  Except it wasn’t that at all. And it had nothing to do with Mephisto. It was fading like a distant dream but the fleeting sensation had been so visceral, as if . . .

  It was a memory.

  Gabe palmed her bottom and balanced her on the edge of the table. His gaze scorched her, his touch inflamed, yet goose bumps prickled her skin.

  “You can’t,” he panted, “be cold.”

  She clamped her legs around his waist. She was so desperate to feel his wings her mind was conjuring tricks. But it didn’t matter. She didn’t need his wings because right now she had him. And he was all that mattered.

  “I’m burning.” She wound her arms over his shoulders and buried her fingers in his glorious hair. “For my archangel.”

  For a second he became absolutely still, and the look on his face was impossible to define. As if her words had been not only unexpected but had touched him in a way he hadn’t imagined.

  Or maybe it was just her own imagination, looking for something that simply wasn’t there.

  “Then you’d better hold on.” His words were raw with warning or promise; she couldn’t tell and didn’t care. His cock nudged her swollen pussy, a teasing, tantalizing kiss. Anticipation sizzled through every cell but still he kept her waiting.

  “Gabe.” She was begging. She didn’t care. “For god’s sake, I need you inside me.”

  His grin was pure evil, forged in heaven and honed in hell. Incoherent moans spilled from her lips but she didn’t even care about that, either. Because Gabe was torturing her in a way she had never believed possible. Slowly, inch by magnificent inch, he eased into her when she desperately craved a brutal possession.

  “Now,” he said, a thread of triumph licking his voice, “who’s the impatient one?”

  She gripped his waist in a vise, dug her heels into his taut butt and lifted herself from the edge of the table. The sensation of shoving herself along his erection, of feeling her body stretch to accommodate his size, sent ripples of pure lust from her clit to her womb.

  “Me.” Her voice was hoarse, her heart stampeding. He filled her so completely and it felt so utterly right. “And I’m about to make you come.”

  So fast she barely had time to comprehend, he pinned her to the table. Her fingers were still tangled in his hair; his hands were now imprisoning her hips. And with a thrill of dark delight she saw raw savagery gleam in his eyes.

  “But I,” he growled, sounding wild and inhuman, “intend to make you come first.”

  A couple of well-aimed thrusts was all it would take. She squirmed helplessly beneath him, but his hold was absolute.

  Did it matter? She raked her fingernails over his head and felt his big body shudder. Oh, he was close. As close as she. The knowledge inflamed and she slid her legs higher, clamping around his back, jerking him closer. Her internal muscles tightened around his invading length, a mind-blowing caress of silk and flame and spirals of fire licked low and deep.

  Mindlessly, she dragged her hand from his hair, scored the skin of his waist and hip with her fingernails. Feverishly, she reached for him, grasped his taut balls, and his primal groan echoed through her blood. Reality blurred as he rammed into her, brutal and savage.

  He came, hard and fast, the pleasure so fierce it bordered on agony. She gripped him tight, forgot how to breathe, to think. She could only feel him inside her and see him above her. Sensation consumed, enslaved, and finally only one coherent thought filled her world.

  Gabe.

  —

  EYES CLOSED, GABE fought for breath. His forehead rested against Aurora’s and her orgasmic scream still echoed in his mind.

  His name. She had screamed his name in the exquisite moment that she had come.

  Her erratic breath panted against his mouth, her heart hammered against his chest. She was soft and warm and her legs still entrapped him in a silken embrace. Slowly he raised his head and looked at her. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted and she looked utterly enchanting.

  A faint flicker of unease drifted through his mind. How many times had he taken her? Why did he still find her so irresistible? Even now, seconds after climax?

  He should be craving distance. Feel suffocated by her intimate touch. But even as he probed the thoughts, attempted to ignite them, they slid away, insubstantial and unimportant.

  What did it matter how he should be feeling? The truth was plain. He didn’t just want Aurora for the sex. He enjoyed her touch even when they weren’t fucking. Revelation trickled along his spine. Because it was even more than that.

  He liked her company. In the short time they’d been together he’d got used to having her here, in his own private sanctuary. It was crazy, but he even liked the way she’d turned his life upside down with her innocence of his world and her incessant desire to assert her own authority.

  Gods, she could have no idea just how radically she’d messed with his existence. He never lost control during sex, yet so far he had every time with Aurora.

  He’d never brought a mortal to this island. Yet here he was stark naked on the terrace outside his villa, still impaled within her tempting heat.

  Her eyelashes flickered. Her blue eyes were glazed. She looked sated and exhausted and guilt stabbed through him. He’d tak
en her again. After he’d vowed not to. But damn, all she had to do was look at him and he wanted her.

  No excuse. He could have resisted. Except their time together was so inevitably brief.

  “Nice.” She sounded half asleep. Her leg muscles flexed. “Want another go?” And then she winced and rolled her shoulders, as if she was uncomfortable.

  He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her from the table. There was no earthly need, yet he kept her secured onto his cock.

  “Later. You need to rest first.” He stepped over the large timber chest he’d dropped after seeing Mephisto looming over Aurora and took her into the villa. Every move he made caused her slick sheath to rub with agonizing temptation along his burgeoning erection. It was with a sense of relief he finally laid her on the bed.

  She groaned. “I can’t believe I’m having an afternoon nap.” She opened one eye and peered up at him. She looked positively edible. “You having one too?”

  “Sure.” He lay beside her, on top of the covers, and propped his head in his hand. With any other woman he would have given her a helping nudge into slumber. But Aurora wasn’t any other woman. And if she was, he wouldn’t be in this unbelievable position in the first place.

  Silence settled, and with it an odd kind of comfort. He watched her sink into oblivion and only then did he realize their fingers were entwined. With a heavy sigh he began to free himself. Before he started work on the contents of the chest he would sort out acquiring another laptop. He couldn’t be without one in his line of work and besides Aurora needed one too. As his fingers slipped from hers she stirred, frowned, and momentarily tightened her grip on him.

  “My beloved archangel.”

  The words were soft but completely coherent. A shudder clawed along his spine but still her whispered endearment branded his brain and pierced his hardened heart.

  My beloved archangel. Only Eleni had ever called him that. Only Eleni had ever dared.

  Only Eleni had ever possessed the right.

  With a tangled sense of fascination and dread-filled hope Gabe stared at Aurora’s sleeping face. It wasn’t possible. He knew that. Eleni was dead, and dead forever. Aurora’s words meant nothing.

  Meant everything.

  He raked his hand through his hair, mind reeling. He couldn’t shift the feeling that somehow there was a connection between Eleni and Aurora, no matter how crazy the idea was.

  There was only one other he could talk to about it. Only one other who could understand.

  Zad.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  AFTER contacting Zad it didn’t take long to track him down. He was knee deep in the latest devastating earthquake that had recently hit the Pacific.

  Gabe stood on a bank of steaming rubble and watched the other archangel, second only to Mephisto in age, leave the medical team he’d been organizing and make his way across the broken buildings and shredded vegetation toward him.

  Gabe could see through the glamour that rendered Zad’s wings invisible to mortal eyes, but nothing could disguise the aura of quiet authority Zad exuded without even trying. No wonder he was always roped into positions of leadership despite his reluctance.

  “Is it worth it?” Gabe narrowed his eyes against the gritty atmosphere and stared across the ruined city. Zad haunted natural disasters on Earth as if they were a drug.

  “Got to be worth a try.”

  They’d had this conversation a million times in the past. Gabe had never been able to get over his natural inclination to let humans just get the hell on with it. Somehow or another their species always survived, no matter what the Earth or cosmos threw at them.

  They survived, whether they deserved to or not.

  Strange. He and Zad had both lost those who meant everything to them. Yet while Gabe had turned his back on humanity for their ignorant involvement Zad had embraced them.

  Gabe would never again open his arms to the human race.

  Aurora.

  Her face filled his vision, obliterating the ravaged landscape. She was a human and he’d done more than open his arms to her. He’d broken ancient covenants for her.

  But then, she wasn’t strictly indigenous to Earth. She was a unique, incredible hybrid who possessed the genetic material from two dimensions. He’d never lay the blame of the past on her shoulders.

  Yet he’d saved her, offered her sanctuary, before he’d known her true heritage.

  Her true heritage. Again the futile hope that she was so much more than she could ever be echoed through his heart. It would answer his insatiable desire and would be the reason why he hadn’t minded her irreverence. It would also explain the unacknowledged fear that he could easily have arrived too late today to save her from Mephisto’s rage.

  “Gabe,” Zad said. “Is this still about the woman you rescued from the Guardians?”

  There was no point denying it. Aurora was the only reason he’d sought out Zad. “Yes.”

  Zad cast him a speculative look. “You aren’t pissed off by the inconvenience anymore.” It wasn’t a question. “The sex must be spectacular.”

  “It’s not the—” He clamped his jaw shut. He wasn’t about to discuss his sex life with Zad, of all people. “She has a necklace, Zad. Obviously its quality is inferior but apart from that it’s an exact replica of the ones we gave our beloveds. And do you know why she has it? Because she used to dream of angel wings and rainbows as a child. She had it specially commissioned to her specific design.”

  Zad squinted into the distance and shoved his hands in the pockets of his dusty jeans. For long moments Gabe thought he wasn’t going to acknowledge his words. But finally the other archangel turned to him, his face an inscrutable mask.

  “It doesn’t mean anything, Gabe. Children throughout the ages, throughout the universe, dream of rainbows and angels for no other reason than both are”—he shrugged and a mirthless smile tugged the corners of his mouth—“fantastical.”

  Gabe forcibly relaxed his clenched fists. Buried in the back of his mind an insistent voice of logic urged him to shut up, to leave, to forget about this insanity.

  Except he couldn’t let it go. Not yet.

  “That’s not all. When she was asleep she said—” The words lodged in his throat. How could he repeat them, after so long? To anyone, but most of all to Zad, who had also loved Eleni?

  Zad’s mahogany wings rippled in the breeze, and Gabe saw his muscles tense as if he struggled against the instinct to soar to the heavens.

  “It doesn’t matter what she said.” His voice was still even but a harsh note of finality underlined every word. “She’s not Eleni, Gabe. Neither first-generation Nephilim nor their descendants have souls to return to us. We’ve always known that.”

  He knew it. Had always known it. The offspring of an archangel and a human and all their descendants was eternally damned. But still the irrational hope had flared that somehow, against every possibility and despite her Nephilim heritage, his Eleni had been reborn.

  It was a fool’s dream, and while he was many things, he was no longer a fool. The similarity between the necklaces was a coincidence. There was no universal convergence, no karmic confluence. Aurora was not Eleni. He would never be given the chance to love her again, hold her again. Would never have the chance to save her life the way he’d been unable to save her life so many years ago.

  Aurora had never said she dreamed of angels’ wings, after all.

  He glanced at Zad. “How long must we serve penance?”

  “Gabe.” Zad didn’t look at him. “Forget about the vow we made in our rash youth. It’s not a sin to love again. You’re not betraying Eleni’s memory.”

  Gabe gave a harsh laugh that did nothing to ease the fathomless despair consuming his chest. Archangels rarely fell in love and when they did it was forever. “You know we can have only one beloved. Like you said”—he flung Zad a bitter glance, the words already eating into his battered heart like foul acid—“it’s only spectacular sex.”

&
nbsp; “With the right one.” Zad finally turned to look at him, and Gabe gritted his teeth against the fleeting desolation he glimpsed in the depths of Zad’s dark eyes. “Sex heals the soul.”

  —

  AURORA STRETCHED, FROWNED and opened her eyes. Unbelievable. She’d fallen asleep in the middle of the afternoon. As reality came back into focus, so did a sense of unease. There was something she needed to tell Gabe. Something important. Already knowing she was alone in the bed, she still turned to see if he was beside her. But of course he wasn’t.

  She sat up, propped her elbows on her knees and speared her fingers through her tangled hair. What had possessed her to seduce him? Apart from the obvious. Which was she couldn’t keep her hands to herself whenever he was near her.

  A defeated groan escaped. Her number one priority was discovering a way she could return home. But, as she had feared, being with Gabe was eroding her sense of urgency.

  He only had to look at her for her to forget how impossible this situation between them was. And when he looked at her with concern, when he touched her with tenderness, the thought of leaving, of never seeing him again, twisted her heart.

  It was more than sex. More than lust. But she’d known that, almost from the start. And now she had to deal with the consequences of being stupid enough to fall for an archangel.

  It would be so easy to simply accept her situation. She was a mortal. How could she hope to stand up to an alien species that was older than anything she could imagine?

  Gabe no longer appeared to resent her presence. He had changed, too, over the last couple of days. Although she wasn’t going to delude herself that he was falling for her. But at least she could imagine, or fool herself into imagining, that a future with him wouldn’t be intolerable. She could stay on his island and be safe.

  Isolated from everyone and everything she had ever loved or known. Becoming crippled with guilt over abandoning her parents. Growing old and decrepit while Gabe stayed forever in his gorgeous, irresistible prime. And she would never have the chance of a family of her own.