by Larissa Ione
“Oh.” That took a little of the wind out of her indignant sails. “Well, thanks for showing me your digs, but I really have to get going.”
He glanced over at the fireplace, which lit with a whoosh. “Not until you tell me why that angel was trying to kill you.”
There were so many ways she could play this, but she went for the obvious. “Because I’m a demon. Angels kill demons for sport. Was that a serious question?”
“Yes.” His leather jacket creaked as he crossed his arms over his chest. “They don’t just pop onto random rooftops hoping to get lucky and find demons to kill. He was hunting you. Why?”
Closing her eyes, she replayed the scene in her head… a scene that had started out with blue skies, bright sunlight, and the trill of pigeons walking the roof’s ledges.
“Vyrm.”
The angel’s hatred dripped from his voice as he materialized in front of Blaspheme. She let out a scream, dropping her coffee cup as she scrambled out of her chair. Glass shattered and coffee splattered, but she barely noticed. The only thing she could see right now was the huge warrior standing on the roof in military combat gear, his body laden with weapons.
“H-how did you find me?”
An aurial, a blade specifically designed to kill angels and fallen angels, appeared in his hand.
“I don’t answer vyrmin questions.”
Cute, how he’d turned vyrm into vermin. She wished she was going to live to appreciate the wordplay.
“Blaspheme?”
Revenant’s voice broke into her not-so-fond memory. What had he asked her? Why the angel was hunting her?
She shrugged, hoping he’d buy her false indifference. “I have no idea. Maybe there’s extra incentive this week to slaughter False Angels. And you know, maybe you could explain how you found me? You’d better not be tracking me, or —”
He held up her Coach bag, which, apparently, he’d pulled out of his ass, because she swore he hadn’t been holding it a moment ago. “I saw you didn’t take your purse with you, so I guessed that you’d have to use a Harrowgate for transportation. I checked the Harrowgate closest to your apartment.” His black eyes glittered. “That was stupid. Anyone with half a brain would have known to waylay you at that Harrowgate.”
She gaped in indignation. “So now I’m stupid?”
He tossed the bag onto one of his rickety chairs. “Now you’re safe.”
Somehow she doubted that. Oh, she was certain no one was going to get past Revenant to get to her. But could someone get past him to save her?
“I would have been safe if I’d gotten to Underworld General.”
Revenant reached up to rub the back of his neck, causing his shirt to rise up on his hard-cut abs. “The hospital has been breached before.”
He had a point. Sort of. And man, that sliver of flesh between the hem of his shirt and the top of his leather pants was distracting. Leave it to False Angel instincts to make her horny in any inappropriate situation.
“Not by Heavenly forces,” she ground out, irritated by her reaction to him. “Angels can’t get in.”
“Reaver can.”
As a Radiant, Reaver was the exception, but she hadn’t worried about that, since Reaver rarely came to the hospital. But now that Eradicators knew what she was, how long would it be before Reaver found out and popped into the hospital to confront her?
Panic frayed the edges of her control, and she started to look around for an escape. It wasn’t logical, but her mother’s training had instilled in her a need to locate all exits wherever she went, especially if she felt trapped or afraid.
“Hey.” Revenant softened his voice and moved toward her. “I promise you’re safe.”
“Safe from the angel, maybe, but what about from you?”
“You think I’ll hurt you?” He cupped his hand around her nape, his touch surprisingly gentle. “I want you in my bed, not in a grave.”
Oh, gods… yes.
No!
She shrank away from him, even though the mention of his bed made her heart beat a little faster. “I don’t think so.” He only wanted her because he thought she was someone she wasn’t. She didn’t want to be within a thousand miles when and if he learned the truth. He’d already admitted that he thought death sentences were reasonable for people who associated with vyrm. How would he feel about actual vyrm?
“Why not?” he asked. “You haven’t fucked a male since Yuri.”
Her jaw dropped. “E-excuse me?”
His smirk managed to be both amused and mocking. “Yuri. I’m sure you remember his name. By all accounts, you were pretty into him.”
She gasped in outrage. First of all, she hadn’t been into the arrogant surgeon. At the time, she’d believed he was beginning to suspect the truth about her, so she’d gotten intimate with him. Pretended to love the thorny flails and shit.
Second of all… “You’ve been checking up on me? How dare you! I told you I go to clubs to fulfill my needs.”
“Really?” More amusement. More mocking. “Which ones?”
“Just last week I partied my ass off at Thirst.” In truth, she’d gone to the vampire club with some nurses from the clinic for the sole purpose of playing False Angel slut, and she’d done a lot of flirting, but she’d gone home alone. “And how do you know about Yuri anyway?”
“I’m resourceful, Blaspheme. I can find out anything I want. It’s just easier to ask. So why don’t you tell me what you’re hiding.”
“Why are you so certain I’m hiding something?”
He looked over at the massive sword on the wall, its magnificent, double-edged blade dulled by age and the smoky light in Revenant’s lair. The ebony hilt, its cross-guard decorated with sharp teeth, flowed fluidly to the skull-shaped pommel. The thing suited Revenant well, beautiful, wicked… and somehow tarnished.
“For thousands of years, my job was to hunt down anyone Satan or Lucifer deemed to be undesirable or an enemy. That included half-breeds, angels, vyrm, traitors.” He trailed his finger along the edge of the blade, and for a brief moment, she pictured him thrusting the sword through her vyrm heart. “I learned to recognize deception.”
Shit. Just… shit. In an effort to keep from sounding terrified, she smiled glibly. “And how do you do that?”
A trickle of blood ran down the sword’s edge, but before it reached the tip, the metal soaked up every drop.
“Usually I can smell it. See it. Sense it.” He swung away from the sword and nailed her with black eyes so intense that she took an unbidden step back. “But you… it’s like I should be picking up on a secret, but something is blocking it. I’ll find out what it is, Blaspheme, so why don’t you just tell me now.”
“Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”
“I’d rather fuck you.”
His crude words became images in her mind, and damn her False Angel desires, because now all she wanted was to turn the images and words into action. Sweaty, naked, throbbing action.
Besides, she’d be fooling herself if she thought he was going to give up trying to bed her, and he clearly was a hellhound with a bone when it came to what he believed she was hiding. Trying to stay away from him wasn’t working, and she had no doubt that he wasn’t going to just go away.
It was time to opt for preventive surgery and cut him out of her life like a suspicious tumor. And like any good doctor, she’d use every method she had at her disposal, including what little aphrodisiac she had remaining on her wings if necessary.
“Okay, then.” Her mouth actually watered in anticipation of what she was about to say. “I have a proposition for you.”
One black eyebrow shot up. “I’m listening.”
Summoning every ounce of False Angel magic she had left, she sauntered over to him. Slowly. Seductively. He thought she was different, so she’d show him exactly how identical she was to the species she was pretending to be.
The crazy thing was that this all felt so natural. Crazy, because the FA enchantment shou
ld be wearing off, not intensifying her desires.
“Sex,” she said, lowering her voice to a husky, deep False Angel drawl that drew males like a magnet. “I’ll fuck you if you’ll take me to Underworld General.” His gaze darkened dangerously. “But only once. Just enough for you to get me out of your system.”
Male triumph lit his expression. “Agreed,” he rumbled. “I’m sure once will be enough. It always is.”
She should have been happy to hear those words. At best, sex had never been anything but a pleasant diversion from real life, and at worst, it had been a necessary cover for her False Angel persona. But for some reason, Revenant’s casual acquiescence stung. It made no sense, was completely illogical.
And yet, as she stepped into his hard body and his erection pressed into her belly, all she could think was that his interest in her had never been about her.
It had always been about his dick.
“One more thing,” she said.
His hands closed on her hips, gripping them possessively. “What’s that?”
Very deliberately, she grasped his arms and shoved them away from her body. “You don’t touch me unless I tell you to. Not with your hands, not with your mouth, and not with your fangs.”
He looked like he’d been slapped. “Say again?”
“Those are the rules. During sex, you don’t touch me. After the sex, you take me to UG.”
“Why the fuck can’t I touch you?” he growled.
“Because I don’t trust you. Show me that you can keep your word. Show me you can keep yourself under control.”
A vein in his temple throbbed. “This is a… rule?”
“Yes.”
For a long time he stood there, so motionless she couldn’t even see the rise and fall of his chest. And then he inclined his head, his black-as-midnight hair falling forward in a sexy curtain she wanted to wrap around her body.
“If that’s the only way I can have you, then so be it.”
Casting him a sultry False Angel smile, she slid her fingers beneath his waistband and tugged him toward what she hoped was his bedroom. If not, her take-charge attitude was going to fizzle like a rain-drenched campfire and she’d look like a fool.
But, she supposed, looking like a fool was better than being dead.
Fifteen
Revenant’s body was on fire.
As he let Blaspheme lead him to his bedroom, he marveled at how easily his little False Angel had gotten him to concede to her demands. He’d always been the one to control sexual encounters, to say when, where, and how it all went down. Hell, when a female went down, it was because he wanted her to.
And now this gorgeous, mysterious False Angel was leading him around by his cock, literally, and he was allowing it.
But then, at the end of the day, he was male, and he’d do pretty much anything for sex. Truly, if more females understood the power they held over males, they’d rule all the realms.
He willed the candles in the wall sconces to light up as they entered the bedroom.
“Dungeon chic,” Blaspheme said, taking in the shackles anchored to the stone walls. “Nice. And a little cliché, don’t you think?”
“Clichés exist for a reason.” He started to reach for her, cursed, and yanked his hands away. Rules were rules. Even if they were infuriating.
She stopped at the foot of the bed and turned to him, her hand still gripping his waistband. The tips of her fingers brushed the head of his erection as she shifted her hold, and his body responded instantly, spiking his heart rate, his blood pressure, his breathing… Shit, he was going to stroke out the first time she really touched him.
“Take your clothes off,” she demanded.
“You aren’t going to take them off for me?”
She graced him with a flirty smile that was so feminine and sexy that he didn’t wait for her answer. He wished his clothes away, and poof, they were gone.
Instantly, her teasing playfulness shifted into something hotter. More intense. If he’d known that getting naked was all it took, he’d have pulled a Magic Mike the first time he met her.
Her eyes took him in, his muscles flexing where her gaze landed. By the time she reached his rock-hard cock, his entire body was just as hard, primed for whatever she wanted.
“What do you think a False Angel would do now?” she asked.
He had no idea what a False Angel would do, but he knew what he’d suggest. “She’d lick my balls.”
She cocked a blond eyebrow. “Really.” She might be playing it cool, but the delicate aroma of her arousal rose up, heightening his own.
“Really.”
He didn’t think she’d do it, so he let out a strangled moan when she dropped to her knees and pressed those soft, silky lips against his sac. Holy hell, she was doing it, she was licking and sucking, nibbling and —
“Damn,” he breathed as she sucked a testicle into her mouth and hummed around it. He caught himself before he palmed her head and guided her mouth to catch the release that would be coming at any second.
But before he hit mission critical status, she was up on her feet, her teasing smile making it clear that she knew exactly how close he’d been.
And how much agony he was now in.
False Angels were evil.
“On the bed,” she commanded, and as much as he detested being told what to do, he hit that mattress in record time, lying on his back while he watched her strip.
She didn’t tease him out on this. With the same crisp efficiency he’d seen her use when he’d been tending to his wounds, she shed her clothes, leaving them in a neat pile at the foot of the bed. Then she stood there, looking both tentative and eager, though how she managed that, he had no idea.
Nor did he care. Not when she was standing at his feet, her elegant, supple body a work of goddamned art. Her breasts were full and heavy, the dusky nipples peaked with arousal. Her slim waist was made for a male to circle his hands around as he lifted her up and down on his cock.
And between her legs, she was smooth, her plump nether lips parted slightly, just enough to show a hint of glistening pink flesh.
Holy hell, his dick hurt.
“I thought False Angels were proud of their… special ornamentation.”
“As we’ve established, I’m not your normal False Angel.” She climbed onto the bed, the mattress sinking under her weight. “I wax.”
He groaned. “I like.”
She crawled up his body, her palms sliding up his shins to his thighs, her eyes bright with hunger. “Do you want to touch me?” Her husky voice vibrated all the way to the balls she’d just sucked so skillfully.
“Fuck, yes.”
Her grin was downright sinister. “Too bad.”
Lowering her head, she brushed her lips over the head of his cock. The thing jerked, slapping her across the mouth. As punishment, she nipped him on the sensitive seam just under the crown.
His bark of pain and pleasure made the chains on the wall rattle.
“Well, well,” she murmured. “Someone likes that.”
“Someone has never had that done to him before.” In five thousand years, no female had ever done that. And he’d had some rough-as-fuck partners. “Do it again.”
“I have a better idea.”
Better than that? No way —
Oh, fuck, yes. Straddling him, she scooted forward, that sweet cleft coming closer and closer to his face. His mouth began to water and his fangs began to pulse, and even his dick was leaking.
He’d never been so desperate to get intimate with a female in that way. It was as if he’d starve if she didn’t lower herself against his lips in the next ten seconds.
As she gripped the headboard and positioned herself above him, he fisted his hands at his sides, praying for control. The rules… he couldn’t break the rules. But damn, his fingers itched to touch her. To spread her. To penetrate her.
“False Angels are supposed to taste like apples.” Licking his lips, he lifted his he
ad to meet her as she tilted her hips, putting her sex in contact with his mouth. She moaned as he slipped his tongue between her plump folds. Her slick honey flooded his mouth with the crisp tang of red apples, milder than he’d expected, mixed with her own feminine spice he’d take over fruit any day.
Pain shot up his wrists, and he realized he was clenching his fists so hard his nails were digging into his palms. Willing his hands to relax, he pierced her with his tongue.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Like that.”
Oh, so she liked when he pushed his tongue deep inside her? Too bad. She was torturing him, so he’d do the same.
He’d always been about the what-goes-around-comes-around.
Shifting his head for a better angle, he dragged the flat of his tongue through her valley, flicking the tip over her clit at the end of the upstroke. She cursed darkly, her body quivering as he did it again. And again. On the fourth pass, he lingered on her swollen knot of nerves, circling it as her hips rolled to match his rhythm.
Her orgasm was close, so close that the air became charged with her need. His cock and balls throbbed, and he hoped like hell the no-touching gag order didn’t apply to him, because he palmed himself and squeezed, holding back what was no doubt going to be a climax for the record books.
“I’m going to come… Rev… oh, Rev… yes.” She cried out, going taut as shudder after shudder racked her body.
Now would be the time when he should flip the sitch, throw her on her back and dive into her. Or slip out from under her, shove her head into the pillow and lift her hips, and drive into her from behind, his balls slapping her wet sex with every hard thrust.
But he couldn’t touch her. He nearly howled with frustration as her gasps of pleasure ebbed. Her legs trembled as she scooted back and sank heavily onto his abdomen. Gods, she was beautiful as she looked down at him, hair wild, her face flushed and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, her eyes glazed with pleasure, her swollen lips parted as she panted.
“Let me touch you now,” he growled.
Leaning forward, her hair falling like a curtain around them, she brushed her mouth over his. “No.”
“Sweetheart, you have one hell of a cruel streak.”