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Authors: Heather Killough-Walden

Avenger's Angel: A Novel of the Lost Angels (36 page)

BOOK: Avenger's Angel: A Novel of the Lost Angels
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She moaned and arched into his hand, pressing her flesh against his palm. Uriel’s teeth ached in his gums. His vision began to change yet again, darkening and hardening into sharp angles and deep contrasts.
“Grab the rail of the headboard,” he told her, letting her go and pushing her forward.
She seemed confused at first, so he took one of her hands in his and wrapped it around the metal railing himself. She followed suit with the other on her own. He could hear her heart hammering away, sense that her own need was driving her as much as his was driving him. He could also smell her blood, mingled with the scent of her desire, and it practically begged him to do what he desperately wanted to do.
Once she had the railing in her grip, Uriel shoved her jeans to her knees and lifted her with a strong arm around her waist, yanking them and her underwear the rest of the way off of her.
She was naked before him, vulnerable and wet and waiting—his archess, with her knees slightly parted, her back arched, and her hands firmly gripping a metal railing in front of her. If he could have waited, if he could have taken the pressure, he would have remained where he was, his eyes burning her image into his skull so that he would never, ever forget this moment. But he
couldn’t
wait.
Not anymore.
With that simple flash of thought, he sent his own clothes away. As if he hadn’t been hard enough before, the release of pressure on his cock allowed more of his blood to flow into it, nearly driving him mad with throbbing need.
He clenched his fists against the near pain. He wasn’t a small man. Add to that the fact that he was an archangel and formed of what the Old Man had considered perfection, and Uriel had a feeling that, like it or not, this was going to hurt Eleanore.
But it couldn’t be helped. Nothing in the world could have stopped him from taking her then. Not able to stand being apart from her any longer, Uriel leaned forward, pressing his chest against her back. He ran his hands over her small hips, up her tiny waist, and to the swell of her ribs and her round, perfect breasts.
Eleanore moaned again, and with hard eyes, Uriel watched her fingers slip a little on the railing.
“Don’t you dare let go,” he growled, and she jumped, gripping it tighter. Then he moved up and pulled her taut against him, until she could feel his hardness pressing between her legs. Eleanore tried to lurch away then, almost releasing the railing once more. Uriel held her fast, bearing his teeth as another growl made its way up his throat.
His dick pulsed hot and heavy and brick-hard and Uriel’s tight grip on Eleanore’s waist guided her back toward him until its tip nudged at her opening. She made a small, gasping sound and shook her head, her raven hair cascading over her shoulders in blue-black rivulets. He removed one of his hands from her waist and fisted it in her hair, yanking back on it hard to expose her throat to him.
She gritted her teeth as he simultaneously rose up and shoved partway into her. She shuddered violently as his member breached her outer lips and slipped inside.
Uriel watched her face as he took her, a feeling of victory riding him. He loved the way she bared her own white teeth and squeezed her eyes shut at the pain and pleasure he was causing her. He loved her racing pulse and her rising and falling breasts and the way she obeyed him and had yet to let go of that railing.
He lowered himself until he could once more whisper in her ear. “I’m going to take you now the way I’ve wanted to take you since I saw you that night in the bookstore,” he told her, keeping his grip on her hair tight so that she couldn’t pull away. “I’m going to take you hard and fast,” he promised her. “Because you’re mine, Ellie.” He almost growled his ownership. “And you always will be.”
With that, he covered her mouth with one hand and thrust forward, holding her still as he did so. In one clean, driving shove, he ripped through her virginity and rendered it in two.
Eleanore screamed into the palm of his hand and Uriel held her there against him as she came down from the sudden, piercing pain. At the same time, he reached out with his vampire powers and flooded her with more of the pleasure she was already drowning in. Within seconds, she forgot about the pain and he removed his hand.
But his grip remained tight in her hair and, as he drew back and then drove forward again, all the way to the hilt, he lowered his mouth to the side of her neck. With his free hand, he parted her curls and pressed in on her clit, eliciting a low, mewling moan from deep in her throat.
He pulled back—and shoved forward. And did it again. And again.
Eleanore nearly let go of the railing at the sheer force with which he now plunged into her, but the innocent, captive part of her continued to heed his warning and hold tight. He had to smile at that, a dark, smug, male satisfaction fueling the strength in his veins. It wasn’t until he exposed his teeth and pricked them threateningly at the taut flesh of her neck, that she finally let go of the headboard and grabbed his thighs behind her. He grinned as her nails dug deep, drawing blood.
“Mistake, Ellie,” he purred in her ear, almost chuckling the reprimand. He gave her no time to ponder his words before he raised his head, opened his mouth wide, and then sank his fangs deep into her neck.
Again, Eleanore cried out, but this time, Uriel let the cry fill the room and the darkness beyond. If anyone heard, he would deal with it later.
He held her there in his vampire embrace, his cock deep inside of her, his teeth buried in her throat, and he pulled slowly against her skin, swallowing with barely tamed inhuman hunger as her body gave up its blood for him.
He drank sparingly, not wanting to drain her, and it was like holding a fire at bay with gasoline; it was nearly impossible to stop the heat from spreading and engulfing him.
All of you,
he thought distantly as he moved inside of her, back and forth, urging her on to her own forbidden ecstasy.
Give me all of you. . . .
She tasted like heaven, the way he would imagine ambrosia to taste—sweet and seductive and quenching. He brushed his fingers over her sensitive clit and then pressed, over and over again, teasing and taking, as he claimed her.
Eleanore moaned and gasped and sighed, and he smiled against her pierced flesh as he felt her press unwittingly into him. She wanted more—so he gave it to her. With more force now, he propelled them on. A brief brush of her mind and he knew that she was in pain as well as pleasure. And he knew that she liked it that way.
The animal in him reared its head again and he pulled more fiercely against her vein, drawing her blood into him with renewed vigor. At the same time, he took her down to the bed, shoving her forward beneath him as he kept both teeth and cock firmly lodged inside of her, maintaining his claim on her body.
She hit the mattress and he released her hair, quickly grabbing her wrists and pinning them once more to the bed above her.
He drew out, nearly all the way, only to drive into her with ruthless force, shoving his rock-hard need so deep that she cried out once more. He was pitiless, ramming her over and over again in this same brutal manner.
He felt her climax building; then, as she tensed beneath him in a kind of shuddering and tightening that started in her stomach and worked its way down, until she was gripping his dick with unbelievable tightness.
Lightning crashed outside the windows, bathing their carnal act in electric, blue-white light. Thunder followed quick on its heels, drowning out the sound of Uriel’s own guttural cry as he ripped his fangs from Eleanore’s throat, dug his fingers into her wrists, and exploded inside of her.
Lightning split the sky a second time. And then a third. Hard, driving rain slanted onto the tin roof of the bed-and-breakfast, drenching the establishment in a strange, sudden downpour.
The bed stopped rocking. The fire had burned down.
And Uriel slowly—oh so slowly—lowered his lips to Eleanore’s neck, tenderly kissing the wounds he had placed there. She shivered and sighed.
He drew his archess into his arms, rolling onto his side so that her back was pressed against his chest. She shuddered and, because he was still buried deep inside of her, he felt the aftershocks of her climax with blissful rapture. He closed his eyes and breathed her in, scenting their sex, her hair, the ash from the fire, and her blood.
He could hear that her heart beat steady, strong, and calm. Her breathing had slowed into a gentle, sated rhythm. He absorbed all of this, taking in everything with careful attention. He was in heaven. No. It was better than heaven. He never wanted to move from that bed. His strong arms trapped Ellie’s slim body against him and he never, ever wanted to let her go. Not for anything.
Thunder rolled in the distance. The rain poured on.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
 
L
ilith peered out her window at the garden that was drained of color in the moonlight. She hadn’t been able to sleep. There was something in the air tonight making her restless; it was an unsettled vibration that she couldn’t quite place. She hadn’t slept a wink all night, and she found that she kept fidgeting.
She turned away from the window, and with a simple thought, her nightgown transformed into a silk skirt, a silk blouse, and a pair of simple, low-heeled pumps. Then she left her rooms and headed down the hall toward Sam’s quarters.
Halfway there, she paused in her tracks. Here, the vibration became worse, more erratic, more troubled. It felt now as if the very atmosphere had become apprehensive.
Oh no,
she thought, her mind doing circles around the implications. Samael was a very, very powerful creature, and when he got mad, it was a very powerful kind of fury.
The corridor up ahead seemed darker than it should have, even at night. It was as if a pall had fallen over the area. Perhaps it was this, combined with the tension in the air, that had brought Lilith to a halt.
She swallowed hard and reached out with her mind, frightened of what she would find when she brushed whatever it was that was lurking in the rooms beyond that dark stretch of hall ahead.
She wasn’t disappointed. For the dense, heavy foreboding that stirred at the edges of her mental feelers was nothing if not evil. It was the very essence of wrongness. It was Samael at his worst.
She wondered what had brought about this change. Only a few hours ago, he had been speaking with Jason in hushed but relaxed tones. He was carefully planning their arrangement for Christopher Daniels’s gala. And though Lilith had objected to their behavior enough that she’d stayed well away from their scheming, she had been grateful that he was at least calm and in control.
Now, however, there was that dreadfully familiar feeling in the air that reminded her of unholy ultimatums and fallen angels.
Oh, Samael,
she thought ruefully.
What have you done?
With more courage than she would have thought she possessed, Lilith took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and made her way down the dark hall.
 
Eleanore’s body felt heavy. It was as if every inch of it were weighted down, forcing it to press hard into the mattress beneath her. Gravity held her captive, draining her strength, and made it difficult for her to open her eyes. She normally didn’t feel this weak unless she had been using her powers. What was wrong with her?
She forced her eyes to open anyway, blinking against a blurry grayness, and tried to get her bearings.
She was naked, in a bed, in an unfamiliar room. There was a sliding glass door in front of her, and beyond that, there was fog. It was nothing but a wall of dense white.
Where am I?
She frowned and tried to move. She was instantly assailed by a deep soreness. It permeated each muscle, and between her legs, there was an ache that she had never before experienced. Her breath caught when she felt her very pulse down there, hot and swollen. And then Uriel shifted behind her, his arm nudging gently against her hip where it was draped heavily over her body.
Memories began to rush at her, like floating photographs and cut scenes from a movie. Within a few still seconds, she remembered where she was.
And what had happened the night before.
Her neck and face flushed pink, her mind reeling at the memory of what had transpired.
Oh my God,
she thought, recalling Uriel’s fingers buried deep inside of her—and then other parts of him later on. She stifled a moan, a shiver, and closed her eyes against the need that was already burgeoning within her once more.
It wasn’t natural. It couldn’t be normal for her to want to be taken again. And that was what he’d done—taken her. She remembered the look in his vampire eyes—the feel of him smothering her with his pleasure, desire cascading over her until she felt she would die if he didn’t . . . if he didn’t . . . if he didn’t
fuck
her.
Oh Christ,
she thought, her insides writhing with the plethora of mixed emotions riding her. She remembered Uriel’s teeth in her neck, his hard heat so deep inside of her, and his thrusting that was anything but gentle. It had hurt.
BOOK: Avenger's Angel: A Novel of the Lost Angels
5.99Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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