They were in an elegantly appointed room reminiscent, more than anything, of a drawing room of an eighteenth-century French château. Except interspersed with the luxurious furnishing was evidence of super-sophisticated technology.
A tall man, who looked completely human, stood in front of them. He gave a half-bow, his gaze fixed on Gabe, and uttered foreign words. All she recognized was Gabriel.
Her heart sank further when Gabe replied in the strange language. It hadn’t occurred to her she wouldn’t understand anything that was being said.
“What are you saying?” she whispered urgently. Was it too much to hope he had the equivalent of a Babel Fish handy?
Gabe glanced down at Aurora. How had he forgotten she couldn’t understand the Medan language? He knew the demons had developed technology to address this problem for their high-ranking half-bloods; those who, unlike archangels and demons, hadn’t inherited the ability to process a multitude of complex languages from their Alpha forebears. If they had a telepathic connection he could instantaneously translate the conversation to her. And there was no reason why they couldn’t establish a telepathic connection.
He pulled himself back to the present. Now wasn’t the time to initiate such a connection, not when he had to negotiate around Aurora’s unique brain structure.
“I’ll translate.” He turned back to Jaylar. “Where did your daughter get her angel wings necklace?”
“My Lord?” Jaylar glanced at Aurora as if she might hold the answer then back at him. “Her what?”
Before he could translate, Aurora pulled her necklace from beneath her top. Jaylar’s focus riveted on her outstretched palm.
“Angel wings?” He sounded confused. “We’ve never called it such. My mother gave Evalyne a necklace much like this one on her fourth birthday. Just days before she disappeared.”
“Where did your mother get the necklace?”
“My Lord, I fail to see how the origin of a necklace can have any bearing on—”
“Answer the question.”
“Gabe.” Aurora flattened her free hand against his chest. “Ask him if his ancestors came from Earth.”
Irritation flared that she dared to interrupt him, dared to question his methods. And instantly died. Because she was right.
He relayed the question.
“No.” There was a thread of defiance in Jaylar’s tone, as though he expected Gabe to take issue with his denial. Then he shot Aurora another glance and appeared to reconsider his answer. “But our family history has always hinted that our esteemed demi-goddess ancestor spent time on that far-flung planet before she settled on Medana. The necklace originates from her. We’ve always believed it was forged by the gods themselves.”
Gabe translated for Aurora as he trawled through ancient memories. In those enlightened days demi-gods and goddesses had been plentiful on Earth and many had taken archangels as their lovers. But it still didn’t answer the vital question: How had Jaylar’s ancestor been in possession of such a precious artifact?
“He’s almost right,” Aurora said, making no sense at all. He stared at her and she raised her eyebrows, apparently surprised he couldn’t follow her obscure train of thought. “About the necklace. Except it wasn’t forged by gods, but by archangels.”
Since he was the one who had told her that, Gabe couldn’t work out why Aurora thought she might have unearthed a great revelation. “And Jaylar’s descended from the gods, not archangels.” Theoretically, the fact that Evalyne had a drop of immortal blood in her veins should have been protection enough against the Guardians grasping claws. But, just as the ritual to effect an archangel’s protection over a mortal required the spilling of blood, a similar ritual was needed before descendants of immune immortals were also granted the same invulnerability. Eleni had undergone the ritual at birth, and she and Gabe had bestowed the protection onto Helena.
But he knew how easy it would be for that knowledge to be lost through countless ages. The gods, like the demons, had never experienced any problems with procreating and only acknowledged their offspring when it pleased them to do so. If Jaylar’s demi-goddess ancestor hadn’t bestowed the protection on her own child, or told anyone else on Medana of it, then the knowledge hadn’t been lost. It had never been shared in the first place.
He returned his attention to Aurora and the enigma of the necklace. “There’s no reason why she should be in possession of the wings.”
“Unless an archangel gave that demi-goddess the necklace while she was still on Earth.”
“That,” Gabe said with finality, “would never have happened.”
“Well, unless you think it likely that she stole it, then as far as I can see the only answer is an archangel gave it to her because she was his beloved.”
Had Aurora lost her mind? “That’s impossible.” No archangel would have fallen for a demi-goddess. That was as infeasible as an archangel falling for a demon.
“Why is it impossible?” Aurora frowned. “It seems perfectly possible to me. And what’s more I bet she was pregnant with that archangel’s child before she left Earth, as well.”
Gabe had the insane urge to laugh out loud. “She couldn’t have been.” They would have known. Surely they would have known. “We only conceive with our beloveds.”
“Yes.” Aurora sounded as if they had already established that was what had happened. “It’s all making sense now, isn’t it?”
The denial choked in his throat. It wasn’t making any kind of sense at all. The offspring of gods were—had always been—exciting and enjoyable as lovers. But never anything more. Because at their core they regarded archangels as an anomaly of nature. A freak of creation. The physical manifestation of an Alpha goddess’s insatiable ego. They were the ultimate unwanted, bastard children of the original immortal pantheon.
A fuck was one thing. Falling was something else entirely.
But Aurora knew nothing of their history. She had simply heard the facts and drawn an obvious conclusion. A conclusion that might have eluded him, purely because of his own ingrained prejudices.
Was it possible a Nephilim had been born in another galaxy, after the great destruction that had decimated Earth?
Could Evalyne—could Jaylar—be descendants of an archangel?
Aurora herself was proof that the impossible could happen. Who was he to say that bonds of eternal devotion had never existed between an archangel and demi-goddess?
He looked back at Jaylar. Scanned his aura. It was clear he possessed immortal heritage but after so long impossible to decipher. Gabe gripped Aurora’s fingers, as if she was his anchor in a rapidly disintegrating reality.
“Do you have your daughter’s necklace? I need it.”
“No.” Anguish seeped into Jaylar’s voice. “She was wearing it when she disappeared.”
So there was no way to prove whether it was genuine or simply another fake, like Aurora’s. But what were the chances that, after millennia, he would come across two fakes within days?
There was nothing else he could learn here. He jerked his head at Jaylar, tightened his grip on Aurora and teleported.
Home.
—
AS DAWN SLID delicate ribbons of pink and peach into the bedroom, Aurora propped her head on her hand and gazed down at Gabe. He was sprawled on his front, the sheets tangled around his hips, and his back was clearly displayed.
The parallel scars that distorted his flesh, despite their obvious age, still looked as if they caused untold agony.
How had he lost his wings? Why hadn’t he been able to repair whatever dreadful injuries he’d sustained? Or didn’t archangels’ powers of rejuvenation extend to their wings?
Slowly she trailed her fingertips along the length of his back, perilously close to the deep gash, yet not quite touching the mangled flesh. Was the accident or attack that had injured him linked with the death of his beloved?
Stupid question. Of course it was. It had to be.
A dull pain cradled
her heart. It was crazy and useless to be jealous of a woman who had been dead for thousands of years, and yet here she was. Envious of a love that could never be hers.
She braced her weight on her hand and leaned over him. The juxtaposition of perfectly sculpted muscle and bronzed, unblemished skin contrasted with the brutal slashes that had once ripped open his body. Instead of detracting from his beauty the imperfection only enhanced it. And at the same time made him seem, somehow, more human and less . . . immortal.
Tenderly, she pressed her lips against the knotted seam of flesh where, unknown millennia ago, his wings had been ripped from him. Her eyes drifted shut and in her mind she saw once again their glorious majesty. Yet the flecks of gold, which had highlighted each individual cream feather, had been so pretty. Delicate, even. Not majestic at all.
She knew, in her head, she was recalling the image she’d found in his office. But in her heart it was so much more. It was as if she could remember his wings herself. Could recall the feel of him wrapped around her. The exhilaration of him holding her as they flew through the skies while such incredible power and deceptive softness imbued each individual feather.
Her head sank lower and she breathed in deep, savoring the scent of sexual satisfaction, of elusive rainforests and the tantalizing hint of ages old familiarity. Was this how it began? The gradual erosion of the memories of her previous existence, until all she recognized was life with Gabe?
She wound her arm across his back, pressed her cheek against his scar. She couldn’t give up in her quest. She had to discover a way of safely returning to her life, for the sake of her parents.
But god. If not for them she would willingly take her chances in Gabe’s world. Take however many years she had, before her memories faded. Because she would make those years count. And maybe, unlike her mum, this time love really would be enough.
Even if it was only one-sided.
Gabe stirred, and she shoved her foolish thoughts into a dark corner of her mind. This morning they were going to follow up on the information Gabe had extracted from the pirate he’d interrogated, but it wasn’t quite morning. Not yet.
She molded her body to his as he rolled onto his back, her nipples grazing his chest as she stared down at him. His eyes were still closed, his breathing still even, and he looked like every fantasy lover she had ever dreamed of.
He was so achingly familiar. But she had known him for only four days. She had to remember that. She hadn’t known him all her life, no matter how the certainty slid with insidious intent through her senses.
Still bracing her weight on one hand she trailed her fingers along his jaw, over his lips. His body was hard beneath hers and she felt his cock stir against her thigh.
Stealthily, just in case he really was still asleep and not faking, she slid over him and trapped his hips between her knees. Palms spread on his chest she sank onto him and delicately caressed the length of his rapidly thickening cock with her damp sex.
Her clit ached with the delicious friction and she pressed down harder, tremors of pure delight racing straight into her trembling womb. She wanted him inside her, filling her, possessing her, but she wanted to prolong this moment of anticipation. The heady sensation of having Gabe, her beloved archangel, powerless beneath her while she tormented him with sensual pleasures.
A fantasy, for sure. But her lack of finesse didn’t seem to matter. Because already his heart thudded with a satisfyingly erratic rhythm and his breath was anything but even.
“You finished?” His voice was low, gravelly, insanely arousing.
“What makes you think that?” Thank god his eyes were still shut. Because she had the tragic certainty that if he could see her now, he would see just how much he meant to her.
“You stopped.” He finally cracked open one eye, long lashes concealing his expression from her. “I thought I should check. In case you needed some help.”
Slowly she slid down his length once again, her nails digging into his rigid pecs. “Think I can manage.”
His hands cradled her breasts, but his eyes meshed with hers. Slowly he slid his hands along her body, and everywhere he touched ribbons of flames ignited and smoldered beneath her sensitized skin.
“After last night I thought you’d sleep in.” His voice was uneven and he palmed her bottom, his grip hard and sure. “I was counting on you sleeping in.”
She bared her teeth, leaned into him and gently rubbed the tip of her nose over his. He had done that to her only once, and she never had to him. And yet the gesture seemed so intimately familiar.
“I know you were.” After they’d finally got to bed—and she doubted it had been more than three or four hours ago—he’d ravished her. No other word for it. But the way she felt right now, anyone would think she’d been without sex for years. “But tough luck. I’m going to the Fornax Galaxy with you today whether you like it or not.”
His fingers slid under her exposed bottom and trailed with tantalizing promise toward her aching clit. She panted into his face and raised her hips, and with a grin of triumph Gabe cupped her wet pussy.
“We’ll see.” He teased her swollen lips, dipped inside her slick sheath, and a moan of frustration rasped along her throat. They would see, but she had no intention of discussing it now.
She kissed him, open-mouthed, ravenous and demanding, and his grip on her butt tightened as his fingers penetrated deeper. But not deep enough. She wanted more, needed more, and only his magnificent cock would satisfy.
He massaged her tender flesh, probing deeper, angling his penetration and she squirmed, her teeth ripping his lower lip. He growled, a primal sound that vibrated in her mouth and through her veins, heightening the need and fueling the desire. The taste of his blood flayed her reason.
Her muscles contracted around him but still he probed, still he massaged with erotic intent. She hissed with rabid frustration against his bloodied lip and surged upward, shuddering with pleasure as his fingers dragged against her trembling channel.
“Are you sure,” she gasped as she sank slowly onto his engorged cock, “that you’re not some kind of sex god?”
His grin was feral. “I’ll be your sex archangel if you want me to.”
“I’m serious.” With agonizing deliberation she lowered herself another inch onto his shaft. “I only have to look at you and I want to jump on you and screw you senseless.”
He snorted with laughter and his cock shoved further inside her, a delicious sensation of penetration and possession. She tensed her muscles around him, squeezing him tight, and thrills pulsed through her at the way he gritted his teeth as if she pushed him to the very edge.
“I’m happy to say”—he sounded as if every word caused untold pain—“the feeling is mutual.”
Palms spread on his chest she pushed herself up. Kneeling on the bed, imprisoning his hips, her calves cradled his thighs as she looked down at him.
Bronze flesh, taut muscle and a face that could make . . . gods weep. Slowly she raised her hips, felt him slide from her embrace. And then she sank back down again, quivering at the sensation of how completely he filled her. As if they were two parts of the whole. As if they belonged together.
The thoughts fluttered through her mind, silly and romantic, yet utterly compelling.
He bucked beneath her, spurring her onward. The breath rushed from her lungs as his size expanded her tender flesh, as he filled her body and heart and soul. Intermingled, they became one, and she couldn’t feel where she ended and he began because there was no divide.
There had never been any divide.
As she convulsed around him, as he came with brutal ferocity within her, his arms encircled her waist and he ground out words in his strange language. Words she couldn’t understand but that captured her heart, regardless.
For eternity.
Chapter Thirty-three
SPRAWLED on Gabe’s chest, Aurora listened to the comforting thud of his heart as it gradually slowed its erratic thunder. He he
ld her close, one arm around her waist, his other hand curled around her shoulder. Did he fear she might try to escape?
She pressed her lips against his damp skin, closed her eyes. She had to stop imagining his every gesture meant so much more than it did. She was the one who feared he might escape. And her heart would never recover.
Dawn had broken and the sun had risen. Any moment Gabe would shatter this tranquil interlude and there would be no time for her questions. She snuggled more securely against him, smiled when he merely tightened his embrace. As if abandoning this cocoon of serenity was the last thing on his mind.
“Gabe.” She traced her fingertips over his impressive biceps. “What’s that language you sometimes speak?”
She felt his surprise vibrate through his body. It was obvious that was the last question he imagined she might ever ask.
“It’s unknown on Earth nowadays.” His fingers played with her hair, seemingly unaware of what he was doing. “It eventually evolved into what’s now referred to as archaic Sumerian.”
Eventually evolved? Archaic Sumerian was one of the oldest languages ever discovered. But Gabe was referring to a civilization that had existed further back in the past. A civilization she knew nothing about.
The civilization he had mentioned when he’d told her how Evalyne could not possibly be descended from an angel.
“What happened?” Her voice was scarcely above a whisper. “Why haven’t we discovered any archaeological evidence?”
Still he didn’t push her away. But instinctively she felt his mind recoil, and beneath her, his muscles tensed as if readying for battle. She squeezed her eyes shut, cursed her tongue. But still couldn’t regret her questions. If he couldn’t share his past with her, she could forget all of her half-formed dreams of some kind of future together.
“Traces did survive. But mankind chose to ignore their history. As far as humans are concerned, nothing of importance happened on their planet more than five thousand years ago.”
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