The Fallen (Hades Castle Trilogy Book 1)

by C. N. Crawford

  “I’ll take the risk.”

  As I brushed my fingers over his hard abs, I delighted in the way they tensed under my palms.

  I brushed a light kiss over his neck, his collarbone, and his body went rigid between my thighs, muscles corded.

  “If you don’t get off my lap,” he purred, “I’m not sure what I might do.”

  But the deep, sensual timber of his voice suggested he wanted me to stay. And I could feel how hard he was. My breasts brushed against his chest. I pressed my mouth against his throat, licking, sucking …

  He let out a low, animalistic groan that slid into me, curling around my belly. Any minute now he would lose it. He would snap. And then, I’d make him vulnerable.

  I reached down to the hem of my dress, at my hips, and started to lift it up slowly, over my waist to reveal the red lace underwear. But seduction was a tease, so I dropped the hem down again, covering my knickers. “Maybe you’re right. This is a bad idea.”

  He stared at me like I’d just slapped him. Uncomprehending—lost again. Looking for answers.

  “Unless you really want me.” I let the strap of my dress fall lower, exposing more of my breast. Then I raised my dress up higher, showing off the sheer red lace.

  That’s when something in him seemed to snap. His eyes blazed with flames, and I sensed something else was taking over—his darker, bestial side. A glimmer of gold swept over his high cheekbones. He reached for my hips, gripping me hard. He was pinning me in his lap right where he wanted me.

  With a low growl, he pulled my hair back, his teeth at my throat. He wasn’t piercing the skin, but pressing his incisors so lightly. I took deep breaths, my breasts brushing against him.

  My heart started to race out of control—fear mingling with excitement.

  He traced his teeth lower, then started to kiss, lower over my collarbone, like I’d done. He left a trail of searing heat, scorching me, and God it felt good, sinfully good. My breath raced faster.

  Here I was, in the thrall of my worst enemy. And I was wildly turned on by it.

  Waves of need pulsed through my body, and I found my hips slowly rocking against him, eager for more friction. His lips moved over my skin, tongue flicking slowly. His mouth felt amazing. A shudder of pleasure trembled through me. I was melting against him, his to do with as he wanted.

  His kisses moved lower now, over the curve of my breasts. Then, with a quiet snarl, he reached for the front of my dress, tearing it open. When I looked down I saw my nipples hard against the red lace. His gaze swept down to them, and his expression looked hungry. There was, for sure, no going back now.

  His eyes were pure fire, and the gold tattoos gleamed over the side of his cheekbones.

  Fear slid over my heart like a shadow, and I closed my eyes. For a moment I felt myself plummeting.

  Then, he uttered a word in a foreign tongue, and when I opened my eyes again, the lights were out.

  He slid his hands under my bum and stood, lifting me. My arms were wrapped around his neck, my legs around his waist. I felt his muscles shift between my thighs as he carried me. And when he kissed me on the mouth, slow and sensual, the fear drifted from my mind. It was replaced with a deep, pulsing heat that moved from my belly down between my thighs.

  My mind burst with the image of a thrilling flight through a night sky, over a city of golden stone.

  He laid me down on the bed, and I felt him kneel between my legs. He tugged my bra, and I gasped when his mouth closed over my nipple, tongue swirling. I threaded my hands into his hair. Waves of sensual pleasure rocked through me, and I heard myself whispering his name. Never before had I imagined that this kind of pleasure was possible—and especially not with my worst enemy.

  My back arched into him, and I was dimly aware that I was moaning his name. I needed him sliding into me, filling me.

  My mind was a rush of erotic thoughts, but only one of them was clear to me: never before, in the history of mankind, had a battle been so deeply pleasurable.

  38

  Samael

  It was as if a thousand years of buried desire were coming to the fore right now, searing every inch of my body.

  A strange sort of frenzy was overtaking me. I’d never understood the pleasures of the flesh before, how they could drive an angel to fall.

  But holy hell, kissing her breasts was an intense pleasure, and I was beginning to understand. And the way she said my name …

  Control. Control. Stay in control.

  As a being of divine wrath, I punished those who defied me. But when I thought of punishing her, it was altogether different. I wanted to lift her dress, bend her over. I wanted to torture her with light erotic touches over the sliver of red lace between her legs, until she could no longer remember her name, until she was begging for satiation.

  She was my enemy, and I wanted her moaning beneath me, helpless. Slick with desire, trembling. At my mercy.

  My mind burned with a thousand lust-filled images, writhing in my thoughts, all the ways I could use her perfect little body. Ideas that had been forged in the flames of Hell, sin simmering in my skull.

  Master control of yourself, Samael. Master yourself before you lose control completely.

  I couldn’t trust this woman, and I knew she’d betray me. And yet my mind burned with the most animalistic, carnal thoughts—I wanted to dominate her, to master her completely and make her mine.

  I wanted her always the way I had found her tonight—aroused in my room, her chest flushed, thinking of me.

  “I did warn you,” I whispered against her breast. “My control is slipping.”

  She ran her hands down my back. “I like you this way.”

  Traitor.

  What in the seven heavens was I thinking? What was I doing? I was the Angel of Death.

  And yet when I found her here, in this tissue thin dress, her nipples straining against the material—I’d lost my mind. Her hand had been between her thighs. And she claimed she was thinking of me.

  I wanted her completely bare. But then she’d started teasing me, torturing me.

  Something compelled me to brush my fingers over the lace at the apex of her thighs, and to keep my touch painfully light. Somehow, I knew this would torture her in return. And it did seem to be driving her into a desperate sexual frenzy, the lightness of my touch. She reached down, trying to force my hand to touch her harder, looking for more friction, more pressure.

  “No,” I said. I reached for her hands, pinning them up over her head.

  I reached down again between her thighs—a feather-light stroke—and she let out a desperate sound, trying to move her hips against me.

  Perhaps that was her punishment. I’d drive her mad with lust.

  A low moan rose from her throat. I wanted her as my sexual prisoner—

  No. I tried to put a leash on my thoughts. My control was dangerously close to snapping completely. I needed to have her.

  I traced light circles over the hot lace between her legs, and her hips bucked beneath me. I have you right where I want you.

  I released her hands, and lowered my face to her breast. My mouth covered her nipple, then my tongue slid over the peak. I heard her heart racing faster, and her hips moved hungrily, trying to be satiated.

  She moaned my name again, and heat coiled tight in my body. I wanted to fuck her more than anything. But first, she had to suffer as I had just moments ago. Light, slow circles made her groan …

  With her, the dark side of me emerged in a completely new way. The rush from this mortal woman was exhilarating and terrifying all at once, something forbidden that I could not resist.

  And yet it was hard to think clearly, because only a thin bit of silk lay between me and her naked body now, and I wanted to taste all of her. I wanted to make her mind blank.

  She was a fall from grace, a deeply forbidden thrill.

  She could make me weak—

  I found myself pulling off that last bit of red lace, exposing her completely.
I spread her thighs, looking down at her. I wanted her like this always—naked before me, aroused.

  Moving lower down, I trailed kisses down her stomach. I had to put a stop to this. End this now. Force her to dress again, lock her in the prisons. But she was like flames rising around me, and I would burn for her until there was nothing left but ash.

  Her skin felt so soft, so vulnerable beneath me. I needed to taste her between her legs. I found my head moving down lower. My hands were on her hips, locking her in place. She ran her fingers into my hair, gripping on tight, legs clenching around me. She was forcing my mouth lower, desperate.

  I lowered my mouth to her, and I kissed. I tasted her, licking her as she moved against me.

  God, I needed more of her. I knew this was a mistake, that maybe it was already too late.

  It was no wonder the Watchers had fallen. A mortal woman could rob you of reason, turn you into a beast. Every movement of my tongue seemed to make her back arch, her hips move. I could feel the pleasure rippling through her. And I could no longer think, or make words, my thoughts lost in a deeply erotic haze.

  It didn’t take long for shudders to rack her body, and her thighs clenched around me, fingers gripping my hair so hard she might have pulled it out. A final, loud moan echoed off the ceiling, and she went still, muscles limp. She was catching her breath, thighs still around my head, dewy with exertion.

  But I hadn’t had my fill, had I? No, I was unbearably hard.

  I still needed more, wanted to turn her over and take her from behind, I wanted this to never end, except—

  Take care, Samael, and never trust the mortals.

  Distant words from my past rang in my mind.

  And did I trust Zahra?

  No, not at all.

  My fingers tightened into fists. With an iron will, and all of my muscles tensing, I forced myself to rise.

  It was actually physically painful to step away from her, like someone was driving nails into me.

  But this was life or death, and I had to get away from her, now. To stay any longer could be my death.

  I heard her say my name, and something about that felt like glass shattering in my heart. I had to get away from her.

  I turned away, and as if from a distance, I heard myself muttering that I was leaving.

  I was going to find an ice-cold bath—perhaps the Dark River itself.

  I would rip this madness from me completely.

  39

  Lila

  I stared into the darkness, still catching my breath, heart still racing.

  What—what had just happened?

  He’d stolen my ability to think clearly or to form coherent sentences, and then he’d left. Before I could even catch my breath, he’d just walked out the door. And all he’d said was, “I’m leaving.”

  I clenched my jaw. I supposed it didn’t matter, did it? Because it didn’t matter what he thought of me. I wasn’t actually his lover, but his enemy. We didn’t trust each other one bit, and I’d only done this to make him vulnerable in the first place.

  The room was eerily silent; I could only hear my own breath. I supposed there was nothing to do but sleep. So I slid under his blankets, and made myself comfortable in his bed.

  Would he be coming back? I had no idea, but I lay down in the soft sheets, and pulled them up to my chin. His bed smelled amazing, and the pillow beneath my head was soft.

  I'd never been in a bed like this before. Mostly, I’d slept on the uncomfortable, scratchy hay mattress with Mum and Alice, sometimes on the floor in a corner if they were snoring too loud. But now, I had silk against my skin, and my body was melting into the mattress. And yet I couldn’t quite relax.

  Before I could drift off, my thoughts kept snapping back to Samael. I’d made it a point to seduce him, to make him vulnerable. But for the first time, I was wondering if maybe I didn't have it in me to actually kill him.

  He was Death Incarnate, but the look in his eyes sometimes—that innocence, that perplexed look. If he was Death Incarnate, he was only serving his purpose. And had he killed the servants at all? I didn’t know it for a fact.

  What Sourial had told me earlier was starting to make me think differently, too. He was claiming that they were some kind of guardians, keeping the peace between a mankind out of control with violence.

  What did I know? I wasn't privy to the actions of generals and leaders. Every powerful force used manipulative tactics to keep a populace under control. Perhaps that had included the Albian king.

  At that point, I was struck by the terrible realization that the seduction might have weakened me instead of him.

  I rubbed my eyes. Whatever the case, I needed to sleep. I’d have a fresher head tomorrow.

  I couldn’t tell if I’d been beguiled, or simply learned new things. Even if I’d only been here two days, I felt trapped between two worlds, the world of Dovren and the mortals who lived on the streets—the ordinary people who fought to survive, who went hungry and saved up pennies for hot food or drinks at the music hall. And this comfortable, luxurious castle where I didn’t belong.

  I rolled over, trying to make my muscles relax. Somehow, things had got muddled, and I was starting to feel like a traitor to both sides.

  I desperately wanted to see Finn and Zahra again. I wanted a reminder of who I really was. When I thought of them at the music hall, at last I started to relax. My breathing and my heartbeat slowed. And finally, I drifted off into sleep.

  But my dreams were not peaceful. No, my dreams were full of erotic, tormenting visions of Samael.

  And when I woke, sunlight was streaming in through the stained-glass windows. I sat up, still naked, and pulled the sheets up around me, blinking in the light.

  Morning had arrived and I was still completely alone. Samael had just never returned.

  So I dressed myself in a simple gray dress, and I found breakfast left outside the door—sweet bread with chocolate, and a pot of hot coffee with milk. God, I would miss this place when I left.

  When I’d filled up my stomach, I crossed through the library and out into the hall. Two soldiers stood outside the door, and as I started down the hallway, they followed behind me. Silently, watching me, following me down the stairs.

  When I got to the lower level, I turned to look at them, folding my arms. “Am I allowed to go outside for some sun?”

  They looked at each other, then nodded.

  I pushed through the door and strode outside. The castle stood on top of a gently sloping hill, and the fields around me were dappled with brightly colored wildflowers.

  I turned back to see both soldiers standing before the castle door. “I’m just going to walk around the courtyard. I don’t need you breathing down my neck. It’s not like I can escape.”

  I gestured at the towering walls that surrounded us.

  When the two soldiers stayed silent, I took that as permission to walk on my own. What I was actually hoping to do was to find a nice quiet spot where I could call for Ludd.

  So when they left me to my own devices, I crossed to one of the archways in the inner stone wall. Shielded from view, I stood inside to call for the messenger crow. Quietly cooing, clicking, I waited for Ludd to arrive.

  In the warm sunlight, I felt peaceful, bathed in gold. And when I saw Ludd flying toward me, my pulse started to race a little bit. He was carrying a larger note than usual.

  I knelt down as he landed on the stones by my feet, and he dropped the little curled up note. I picked it up and unfurled it.

  I stared with horror at the sepia photograph. Around me, the light seemed to dim; the world fell silent. Time slowed down, and I stopped breathing.

  In my hands was a photograph of Alice, or at least what was left of her. Samael was holding her severed head in his hand, and her body lay crumpled on the ground. His lips were curled in a sinister smile.

  Even though it wasn’t in color, even though she was dead, I would recognize her features anywhere. Her striking beauty was unmist
akable—the dark eyebrows and platinum hair, the little nose.

  Blood was dripping from her severed head. My hands were shaking so hard, I could hardly hold the picture. I dropped it on the ground and fell to my knees.

  It didn't take long for me to bring up my breakfast onto the stones. Grief and revulsion had overtaken me.

  Had I actually touched that monster last night, the man who killed my sister? I must have been out of my mind to doubt that he was a monster.

  The photograph had completely renewed my rage, my fury.

  Samael was the Angel of Death, of divine wrath. And now he would feel mortal wrath.

  I felt a darkness sliding through me, a deep hunger for vengeance. This wasn't just about my country anymore. He'd murdered someone I loved, ruined my family. And how many other lives had he destroyed, because the angels believed they were better than us mortals? That they needed to reign over the chaos of man?

  They really didn't care if we lived or died, as long as it suited their needs.

  I wanted to scrub my entire body clean of his touch. But there wasn't time for that right now, because more than anything I had to leave here. I had to hope that what we’d done last night was enough of a seduction, because there was no way I was going near him again.

  As the haze of horror thinned a little in my mind, I realized there was another piece of paper with the photograph.

  More drawings from Finn. He’d carefully drawn a picture of his market stall, with the petticoats hung up.

  Beneath that, he’d drawn an hourglass and a lightning bolt, the symbol of the Free Men. If I understood this correctly, he wanted me to meet him at the market stall as soon as possible. Time was of the essence. And then, he would give me some kind of message from the Free Men.

  I took another minute to try to compose myself. Running wildly out of here in this mental state was a recipe for disaster. If I didn’t steady my nerves, I’d find myself wandering around the courtyard, ranting and tearing my hair out. For Alice’s sake, I needed to master control of my emotions.