Authors: K. S. Haigwood
Ethan stopped and looked up at Isaiah. “I will believe you if you tell me she was the devil.”
Isaiah nodded, moved his foot from its perch and leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees and touching the tips of his fingers together, making a steeple. “She wasn’t Lucifer, but she was here because Lucifer sent her. We know not how powerful she is, because back in front of Emma’s apartment she spoke with several different voices. I counted at least five, but I’m not sure; there may be more in the host.”
“The host?”
“The body. I believe she is a demon, a Princess of some sort, and Lucifer has somehow managed to push his own demons into one demon host. It’s certainly possible for multiple demons to do that to a human host, but I have never heard of demons doing it to each other. The thing is, demons have a lot of power, but their power is limited if they possess a human. I can only imagine if multiple demons used the host of a demon how powerful…” He trailed off, and then pressed his lips together.
“So my dad is as good as dead?”
“He isn’t yet. The demon will need to use him to get what it wants most.”
Ethan swallowed, and then returned to the chair to sit down. He remembered the demon demanding they send him out there to it. “It wants me. The blond said the thing wanted my soul.”
Isaiah just looked at him, like maybe he was waiting for the shock to wear off and him to start running around the room in hysterics.
“Why does Lucifer want me?”
“I believe you are an alflight, Ethan. Lucifer has been trying to get his hands on one for thousands of years, but they are too good, they are pure creatures and Lucifer can’t take a soul unless it is damned already. An alflight has more power than even Lucifer if he or she knows how to use the gift. But like we said before, most of them go through their entire lives thinking they are normal, only mere humans, when in fact they aren’t human at all. Nothing major will ever happen to them if their power is never discovered or awoken. The game between good and evil has gone on since Lucifer’s fall, and it always will, unless…”
“Unless what?”
Isaiah shrugged. “Unless Lucifer wins.”
Ethan clasped his hands together, similar to the way Isaiah had his placed in front of him, and then he nodded. “Okay, I know I should be, but I’m not running and screaming yet. Tell me more.”
“God put these creatures of light on the Earth to use, but he only uses them if Lucifer steps out of bounds and cheats in some way. An eye for an eye, shall we say. Lucifer is not supposed to be able to detect the alflights before their powers have been revealed, but Heaven is having some issues right now. A lot of things aren’t happening the way they should.” Isaiah turned his head and coughed into a white handkerchief, then folded it back up and stuck it in his front breast pocket. Ethan didn’t miss the red splattered across the extra bright white of the material.
“So, you are all angels?” Ethan nodded. “That’s what you are? Cool. I can deal with that. Angels are on the good side.”
Shaking his head, Isaiah leaned back in his chair, like he was exhausted. “No. I am an archangel. There are six angels, eight half-souled immortals, one seer, one alflight, one human and one kuret—a winged beast from the Syde of Wrath in Hell—in this house.”
Talk about a minority, Ethan thought, and then stood and walked back to his spot on the hardwood floor, resuming his pacing. He couldn’t just sit there and stare at an archangel that was clearly sick.
Were they all sick like that?
“Some of us worse than others.”
Ethan looked to the ceiling as a huff escaped him, and then he clapped his hands together, making a loud sound echo throughout the room. He decided to just stand instead of pace, so he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the holy guy in the chair.
“I guess, since all of you are down here trying to save my ass, that means I am a part of this, right?”
Isaiah lifted his brow in agreement as he nodded at Ethan’s theory. “Yes, you are a very big part of this.”
“Stop talking in riddles and give it to me straight. I can take it! I may freak out for a minute or two, but I will be all right! Now, what is it?”
“We are here to keep you safe, so you can, in return, save us.”
More with the freaking riddles. “Save the people in this house from that… that… whatever that was out there? Yeah, I can’t do that. I can barely bench a hundred and fifty. What the hell can I do that the guy in the gym room over there benching a ton can’t?”
“Once we wake your powers—a lot. And you won’t just be saving the people in this house, Ethan. You will be saving Heaven and Earth from the Antichrist. You will be saving every good soul in Heaven and on Earth from the wrath of Lucifer.”
Cue the freaking out part.
Thoros loomed over me, his eyes moving down, and then back up the entire length of my body, only stopping when he at last reached my eyes. I smiled in the dim lighting of his bedroom. There was a look in the bright green depths of his irises, behind the soft flutter of his deep brown lashes, that I had never seen before.
He had me captured like a bird in a cage. His cat eyes had me hypnotized and his paw reached in after me. The door of the cage was open, but I refused to fly out. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to get away from him. I was finally going to let him catch me.
I flushed hot at the thought of what he would do to me once he did have me. Would he hurt me? No—no, he wouldn’t hurt me. He loved me, and I—him. Voices in the back of my mind shouted at me:
“Your love is impossible! It will not work, you fool! Leave now, before he crushes your heart! He has had many lovers and you’re no different!”
“No!”
I screamed back at them, and then tossed the negative voices into the birdcage, and Thoros locked the door as I flew out and into his awaiting arms. No more would I listen to doubt for fear that the voices could possibly be right. I couldn’t deny myself this feeling that only he had ever given me: love. Had I been afraid of him all this time, or had I been afraid of love? Whichever it had been, I was not afraid of either one now.
I opened my eyes and all my fear faded away to nothing. It was gone, and as I gazed into his eyes, he smiled, like he knew it, too.
He advanced on me slowly, his hands and knees gliding his body toward me as if he meant to devour me. I wasn’t scared—anxious, yes, but never scared, not of him. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. Somehow I knew he would suffer a thousand deaths by the hand of Lucifer before hurting me.
He stopped just before touching my lips with his. His breathing escalated a bit and he was close enough to me that I realized he was trembling. I felt his breath hot on my lips and I raised my hand to lay it gently on his shoulder, letting my fingers run lightly down the defined muscles of his arm. I lay back, my head falling to the pillow.
I assumed if I ever actually did this I would feel nervous or scared or awkward, but it wasn’t like any of that. I felt different in a way I had never felt before. There were so many words, so many descriptions of emotions rushing through me that I couldn’t grasp hold of even one of them.
Please, Thoros, just touch me before I lose my mind!
As if he heard my mental pleading cry, his hand came up and brushed over my cheek lightly with the back of his fingers. I reached up and placed my hand over his, and then closed my eyes as I turned my face, seeking and searching out his knuckles with my mouth. I placed a delicate kiss on two of them before raising my eyelids slowly to look at him again. There was amazement in his eyes as if it were the first time he’d ever seen or touched me, like I was a hidden treasure he had been searching centuries for and had finally found it. I was flattered by his gaze and I felt heat in my face and a pressure at the height of my thighs that made me want to arch in to him. My breath hitched. I wanted to be touched there. I wanted Thoros to touch me there.
My heart knew I loved him. My mind knew I trusted him. My body knew I wanted him. I knew I needed him.
“Do you trust me, Josselyn?” he whispered, keeping eye contact with me, but my eyes fell to his beautiful mouth as he spoke.
I nodded. “Yes, I trust you.”
“Let me have control of your mind, baby. Drop the block. I can make sure your first time doesn’t hurt you. Lucifer may be cruel, but he gave me a gift—and I would like to share it with you if you’ll let me.”
My mind tripped over a memory, the first memory I had of the Prince of Lust and the feelings he had given me that late autumn evening on Kendra and Adam Chamberlain’s porch. I had felt violated. He had mind-molested me without my permission and I had gotten so angry. I was angry not because of what he had done, but how much it had affected me. I had more than liked the feel of him caressing my emotions. I had been furious with myself for not being prepared for something of that magnitude, but I had never asked myself the question of whether I wanted him to do it again. I knew what the answer would have been as I knew what the answer was now.
Oh, yes!
I grinned broadly. “I haven’t blocked you from my mind since I kicked your butt in the great room my first day back.”
His eyes grew wide in stunned shock then turned to amusement as he smirked. I figured he would argue the fact of whose butt had been kicked that day, but he only lowered his mouth to mine and brushed his soft, hungry, possessive lips over mine.
The tingling between my legs grew to a fierce ache, the feeling foreign to me—uncomfortable and incredible at the same time. There was very little contact between us. His body hovered over mine, his palms placed on the mattress to each side of my shoulders and his knees pressing indentions into the soft memory foam. It was probably a good thing. It kept him from knowing how much I wanted him. Desire sparked and crackled in the small distance between us. No longer was there only smoke. There was a blaze of fire and the burning flames were licking at us, threatening to engulf us where we lay.
My hands reached up around to the nape of his neck and drew him down closer, so I could kiss him deeper. I needed something. I needed more of him.
He moved and I realized he had placed one of his knees between my legs. I gasped loudly as he lowered some of his weight onto me, not because he was heavy, but because his erection was the first thing that pressed against me—exactly where my body ached for it to be.
Oh, yes, please,
I thought, and found that I was mimicking his movements, pressing harder and rocking against him through his pajama bottoms and my jeans. I never hated clothing so much in my life as I did in that moment, especially a fabric as tough and durable as denim. Ripping it would be difficult, but I was almost tempted to try.
His mouth closed over mine and I welcomed his tongue with careless anticipation. My left leg bent at the knee, like my body knew what it was doing more than my inexperienced mind did. Thoros’ quick movement as he removed his hand from the mattress and tucked my knee in the crook of his elbow shocked me, but what startled me even more was when he pressed my knee toward me and rotated his hips, pushing his erection against my core.
I didn’t have time to be frightened of what I felt in that moment. The pressure and aching and tingling that had been building from the butterflies in my stomach down to the depth of my sex, exploded. I screamed as my head jerked back on the pillow. My eyes slammed shut of their own accord and I could see bright flashes of light behind the thin lids. My elbows dug into the mattress at my back and my body arched into him as he rubbed against the most sensitive part of my body. I craved for it to go on and on, but I could already feel it receding, leaving me wanting more, and I wanted to beg for it. Would it be rude of me to beg Thoros to make it happen again? What would he think of me?
Breathless, I opened my eyes, watching in wonder as he sat back on his heels and placed my leg back where it had originally been.
He smiled down at me. “I take it you enjoyed your first orgasm?”
I nodded. “Thank you,” I said a little breathless. “I never knew sex actually felt that good. Now I know what all the fuss is about.”
He went all deer-in-the-headlights on me and I cracked a smile. “That wasn’t funny, Josselyn.” Shaking his head, he bent and pulled the hem of my shirt from the waist of my jeans.
I laughed. “I thought it was. I’m inexperienced, not ignorant. I have brothers who were married. Their wives liked to talk amongst themselves when they visited us. I liked to eavesdrop—” I sighed as his cool lips kissed the delicate skin right above the waistband of my jeans, and then I felt the button quickly being freed. My legs began to shake as he slowly pushed the zipper down.
He looked up at me with passion-filled, emerald eyes. “You bad little girl, you. I bet you never got caught, either, did you?”
I struggled to keep a tight grasp on my sanity, enough to shake my head from side-to-side. “No,” I whispered, and my fingers tightened into fists as he ran a finger under the elastic of my panties.
“I want to taste you, Josselyn. Tell me you want me to taste you,” he said, and I felt the wetness of his tongue make a damp trail from my belly button to my bikini underwear. He blew a cool breath across the trail he’d made and I sucked air in through my teeth as my body quivered in delight.
I nodded shyly.
“What was that? I did not hear you.” He flattened his hand over my jeans and moved it over my leg. I wiggled and he palmed my sex, squeezing gently, and then rubbing down and up, and then squeezing again. “You’re driving me crazy wanting to taste you. Tell me you want me to, Josselyn,” he pleaded, and I cried out again, not able to say anything in that moment from the amazing sensations he was forcing me to feel.
“I want you to!” I screamed. “Please,” I panted, and he let me go.
I was surprised when he left my jeans on and came back to my mouth. He kissed me quick once, twice, and then parted my lips with his and entered my mouth, finding and caressing my tongue with his in a seductive slow dance. I could feel the dull ache of desire building once again between my legs, and I ran my hands over his broad shoulders and down his back hungrily, my short nails scratching lightly over the velvet planes of lean and defined muscle.