Waves of pleasure so intense it’s almost painful.
When his mouth returns to mine and he presses into me, I meet his thrust with my hips, my body tense because I expect pain.
There isn’t any.
Startled, I meet his gaze.
Holding himself above me, his arms caging me in, he says, “Relax. This much I can do, too. You’ve endured enough pain.”
The tension leaves my body, and he thrusts deeper, my body taking all of him.
My legs wrap around his waist, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
“Oh, God,” I breathe.
Chuckling, he kisses the side of my neck, and then whispers, “Now let me show you what heaven feels like.”
Chapter 8
Lucas isn’t in the bed when I wake.
I rise with the sun, my body sore, my mind so full of thoughts I don’t quite know where to put them all, and I’m glad he’s gone.
Too much, too fast, I think.
First house. First time having sex. First time having sex with an angel. First one-night stand. Vomiting blood. All within days, even hours and minutes, of each other, because I’m an over-achiever like that.
I grab the pillow next to me, stuff my face into it, and scream. A good scream, not the bad kind. Unlike Aunt Eloise, I have no desire to take back my virginity.
If anything, I want to thank Lucas. It might not have been what I imagined—sex with someone I’ve had at least three dates with or a guy I am head over heels in love with—but it was everything I needed. Right now. At this moment.
Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I rush to my closet, quickly donning the usual skinny jeans and sweatshirt. Heavy coat. A knit cap. Solid colors. No words.
My camera bag sits on the living room floor, and I sling it onto my shoulder.
Everything outside looks and feels new. The snow on the ground, the white powder dusting the trees, the way the rising sun paints the sky a rainbow of blues, pinks, and purples. The way the air smells, crisp and tinged with smoke.
Taking my camera out of my bag, I turn back to my cabin, focus the shot, and shoot a picture of the arched front door.
“I’ve heard of people skipping out on one night stands, but never on me. I think I’m offended.”
Smiling, I spin to find Lucas standing in the snow, his hands cradling two cups of coffee, and I know by the way he’s gripping one of them, he’s hiding a logo.
“You went into town?” I ask.
“More like blinked in and out. Here.” He hands me a plain white Styrofoam cup.
The awkwardness of our situation slams into me like a high-speed train. “I don’t drink—”
“It’s hot chocolate.”
Accepting the cup with my free hand, I sniff the contents. “How did you know? I didn’t tell you . . .” My gaze swings to Lucas, then back to the cup, my eyebrows practically shooting to my hairline. “How did you know?”
His silence is telling.
I groan. “Oh, no . . . don’t tell me.”
He smirks. “It’s an angel thing. Well, a Seraph thing, though a few other castes can do it as well. If it makes you feel better, I can’t really read your thoughts. I don’t know why. Maybe the demons? You’ve trained yourself to block out demons for so long, it’s like trying to break through an incredibly sophisticated security system. I only get small things from you. Things like the fear of touch. Hot chocolate.”
He walks toward me, and he’s so brilliant surrounded by the snow and the sky, I rush to set my cup in the snow. From a crouch, I lift my camera.
The click is loud in the still morning.
“So, all those things I told you,” I ask, still crouching, “you didn’t see them in my head?”
He crouches in front of me. “No, and it’s refreshing having to guess. Most people make it too easy.” Touching my camera, he raises his brows. “You know this won’t develop, right?”
“The picture of you?” I’m unable to hide my disappointment. “Why?”
“Seraph means fiery one. The only thing you’re going to get on that film is a walking blaze. Since I’m fallen, you’ll get a touch of blue fire in there, too.”
Standing, I peer down at him. “You like being fallen, don’t you?”
“What makes you think that?”
“The way your eyes light up when you say it.”
He stands, instantly towering over me. “It bothered me at first, but over the years I’ve learned to embrace it and what it means. Blurred lines exist for a reason. Some of the best warriors exist in the gray area.” Tapping his head as if it’s a treasure chest full of knowledge, he smiles. “Half your town’s Court among them. Besides,” his gaze slides over the snow-covered mountain, “I’ve been fortunate enough to fight alongside beings and people I would not have fought with if I was still a Risen.” His eyes find mine. “And the ones I fought alongside were in the right. Not all demons are bad. Not all angels are good. Not all people are innocent.”
Fierce passion makes his eyes glow, lightening them until they are almost colorless, and I suddenly understand why he’s a fiery one.
Stooping, he picks up my hot cocoa. “Come on, I’ve got you a present, and if you’re in the mood to take pictures, it’s the perfect place for it.”
He saunters away.
I rush to catch up with him, camera in hand. “There isn’t a place on Mt. Souza, or any mountains around Havenwood Falls for that matter, I don’t know.”
“Oh, it’s not a part of the mountain. It’s more of a thing.”
We march through the snow, hitting a trail just behind the cabin. My boots leave deep prints in the white powder. His boots leave no marks whatsoever.
“Another Seraph thing?” I ask, indicating the snow. “Just what all can you do? Other than healing demonic wounds, vanishing, and reading thoughts.”
Lucas glances at the ground. “A lot.” When he lifts his head, his eyes are shuttered. “Too much.” The tone of his voice tells me everything I need to know. Despite his arrogance, Lucas is not a flashy angel.
Reaching the top of an incline, he turns and offers me his hand. Even though it isn’t steep, I accept his help.
A shallow hollow spreads out before us, mountain slopes rising on three sides, majestic and full of power. A cold, pine-scented wind reddens my cheeks before whistling into the valley.
Nature sings.
“One of my favorite places,” I breathe, lifting my camera.
“Not yet,” Lucas says, stopping me. He gazes out over the space, and then points. “There.”
From the edge of the valley, something lopes toward us, a dark blur on snow. “What is that?”
“A favor.” He grins. “From a friend.”
I edge toward the angel, unease trickling down my spine. “Is that . . . oh.”
From the snow, a lion approaches us, his face surrounded by a magnificent fiery mane, his eyes narrowed. Wings protrude from his back, the appendages large enough to envelop him. The closer he draws to us, the more magnificent he becomes.
I blink, and he’s in front of me.
Words fail me.
Resting on his haunches in the snow, the lion studies me. Like Lucas, he leaves no tracks in the snow. I am tiny compared to him. Strangely, he doesn’t dwarf Lucas at all.