Revenant (20 page)

If Revenant could lock this moment away in a time capsule, he would. If he could stretch this moment out and make it last forever, he would.

Not since his mother had been alive had a female needed him. Truly
needed
him, and something inside him shattered.

This was why he’d truly saved the
blanchier
demon. Not because he wanted Blaspheme to owe him, but because she’d needed him, even if she hadn’t known it at the time. And something about her made him want to do good, even if all he did was save the life of a demon who probably wouldn’t have lifted a finger to save anyone else.

He looked down at the beautiful female standing before him, her eyes liquid with the pain that was so clearly tearing her apart, and he knew he’d do anything she asked. He was an idiot – an idiot who was still ignoring Satan’s damned summons – but right now he didn’t care.

This was a noble female he didn’t deserve, and he knew that for sure after watching her admit to a major error that she could easily have covered up. Instead, she’d faced her boss like a warrior and accepted her punishment.

She was unique, not only among False Angels, but among most demons.

In that moment, she’d become the person he trusted most in the world.

He felt the impact of that knowledge all the way to his soul, damaged as it was, and he had the strangest urge to fold his wings around her in the most intimate of angelic embraces. He’d never done it before, but what made the desire truly odd was that angels only experienced the impulse when their partner was another angel. He hadn’t thought False Angels counted.

“Revenant, hurry.”

His heart pounded at the sight of the desperation tangling with desire in her liquid gaze.

“No rules, right?” His hands made quick work of her scrub top and pants. “No stupid no-touching rules.”

“No,” she moaned as he lowered his mouth to her breast and licked a nipple through the delicate lace of her bra. “No rules.”

“Fuck, yeah.” He pushed her back against her desk and dropped to his knees to kiss the smooth, bare expanse of her belly. “Spread your legs.”

Bracing her palms on the edge of the desk, she obeyed, arching against him as he kissed his way down her abdomen, admiring the honed, rippling muscles that flexed as he worked his way to the elastic of her low-slung beige panties. His cock pushed painfully hard against his leathers, but he ignored the needy son of a bitch as he used a fang to rip her underwear down the front.

“I liked those,” she muttered.

“I like them better in the garbage.” She was bare to him now, and unlike when they were at his place and his hands were fisted at his sides, he now had no idiotic rules to restrain him. He dragged his palms down her hips to her sex and used his thumbs to spread her wide.

She was ready for him, glistening with arousal already. His blood caught fire, burning with the intensity of the sun’s surface. He’d been desperate to taste her before, but now he knew how she tasted, and his mouth watered.

He didn’t waste another second. He buried his face between her legs, pressing the flat of his tongue hard against her core, using his own pulse to thud against her with a steady but gentle beat. The pressure made her squirm and pant as she gripped his head and held him as if afraid he’d suddenly stop.

Not gonna happen.

Adrenaline surged through him, hot and potent as he dragged his tongue through her valley in a lazy sweep and slid one finger inside her dripping core. Her deep moan vibrated his mouth as he began to lick her in earnest now, relishing her unabashed noises and pleading whispers.

“I love this,” she breathed. “You’re so… good.”

Maybe, but he knew for a fact that he’d never been this into it, this hungry for female flesh. He kissed her deeply, drawing her pulsing bud between her lips, flicking his tongue over the tip, and then he sucked. Hard.

“Holy… shit… Rev… I’m going to —” She broke off with a cry. Her fingernails scored his scalp, and her channel clenched around his fingers as she rode his hand and tongue.

She looked down at him, catching his gaze as he finished her off, easing his finger out of her as he continued to stroke her lightly with his tongue. Her mouth was parted with panting breaths, and her cheeks were flushed with passion. The sight of her like that made his cock strain inside his pants, demanding release.

Then, as the sexual glow waned, the sadness in her eyes reappeared.

Fuck that. He wasn’t going to give her one more second to think about anything but him.

He stood, gripped her hips, and tugged her hard against him. Her heat scorched him even through his layers of leather.

“Now,” he growled into her ear, “we do this
my
way.”

 

 

Blaspheme really hoped Revenant’s way was rough and raw, because right now, that was what she needed. Wanted. Craved.

The room spun as Revenant wheeled her around so her spine was against his chest. “Your wings,” he growled into her ear. “Show them to me.”

It didn’t occur to her to refuse, even though the last time she’d summoned her False Angel wings during sex with him, they’d flickered in and out of existence.

Careful to not release any remaining aphrodisiac powder, she let her gossamer wings flare out, filling the narrow space between their bodies. Revenant groaned, and she closed her eyes as his hands drifted from the base of the wings all the way to the tips. His warmth surrounded her as they stood like that, plastered against each other, with him caressing what no one else had ever touched.

She never took her wings out during sex. They were a tool abused by False Angels to seduce and deceive, but right now,
she
was the one being seduced.

And she reveled in it.

Too soon, she felt the telltale weakening of her aura, knew the wings would disappear. Reluctantly, she made them fade away, and Rev’s hiss of displeasure vibrated her spine.

“I didn’t tell you to put them away.”

She reached back and dug her nails into his thigh. “You don’t get to tell me to put them away.”

His breath was hot against her cheek as he took her earlobe between his teeth and bit down hard enough to make her gasp. “This is
my
show, angel.”

There was no warning. All at once, he stepped back and bent her over the desk with a hand on the back of her neck. Her palms and cheek slapped the wood at the same time, enough to sting, but not hurt. Holding her down with one strong hand, he drove the other between her legs, cupping her swollen sex. She was still throbbing from her climax, and when he slipped a finger between her folds and rubbed her, the first stirrings of a second one began.

Just as she pushed back against him, desperate for more pressure, he tightened his grip on her neck and withdrew his talented fingers. She moaned at the loss of sensation, felt his knuckles brush her rear as the sound of a zipper rang out.

Anticipation made her pant so hard she saw her breath form condensation on the desk’s surface.

The blunt tip of his penis pushed into her, lingered, and then he slammed home. She cried out in exquisite pleasure. He pulled back and thrust again, harder, and her desk slid on the floor. He didn’t seem to notice, kept up the delicious onslaught.

He knew exactly what she needed. No downtime. No talk. No emotion.

The squeak of her bare skin on the wood joined the erotic sounds of Rev’s panting breaths and the slap of his thighs on the back of hers. Her hip bones banged on the desk, and she knew she’d have the bruises to show for it, but oh, what beautiful bruises they’d be.

“Is this what you wanted?” His guttural voice sent tingles across her skin. “Do you want more?”

“Yes,” she rasped. “More.”

“That’s my angel,” he whispered.

Abruptly, he yanked her upright, and a piercing, searing pain tore into her neck, followed immediately by an ecstasy so intense that she screamed. She’d never been bitten before, had never wanted to be that vulnerable. She hadn’t known what she was missing, but she wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Pleasure spiked as his arm came around her waist to hold her while he fucked her, lifting her off the floor with each powerful thrust. The smooth rub of his leather against her skin was like an erotic caress, and the thought that he was fully clothed was the last straw. Her orgasm crashed over her like an ocean wave, tumbling her endlessly in ecstasy and drowning her in bliss.

Nothing had ever felt like this before. She’d had a lot of sex and a lot of orgasms, but this was more than a physical release. It was emotional as well, and as Revenant stiffened and his hot seed splashed inside her, pressure filled her chest cavity.

The sex had been amazing and exactly what she needed, but it had only delayed the inevitable, the realization that her life had gone to hell in a handbasket, and hope was all she had left.

That, Revenant thought, had been some of the best sex of his life. He’d always liked to fuck the way he fought; messy, with no holds barred, and this definitely counted. Blaspheme’s desk had skidded across the room, shoved into a now-dented file cabinet, and her neck was streaked with blood. When he pulled out, his seed would spill out of her, marking her with his scent.

Normally, now would be the time when he would zip up and leave the female sated and sleepy, and he’d go find another.

But he didn’t want another. And he didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want empty sex with females whose names he didn’t know or wouldn’t remember ten minutes later.

It made no sense. Well, it did if Blas had used her False Angel powers on him, but he’d watched, waiting for her to engage her charm or aphrodisiac, and nothing had happened. She’d asked him for sex, but not to seduce him or even to have a good time with the closest dick. She’d needed him, had laid herself bare, giving him access to her body and soul.

In thousands of years, no one had done that, and his heart fluttered with a foreign sensation that made him feel like he’d guzzled a dozen bottles of the best French champagne.

Shit. He had genuine feelings for her, didn’t he? And wasn’t that some damned inconvenient timing? Even if he didn’t have both Heaven and Sheoul breathing down his neck, he didn’t want the kind of complications emotional attachments brought. No, those strings got knotted real fast, as his relationship with Reaver proved.

Retracting his fangs, he licked the punctures in Blaspheme’s throat, lingering a little longer than was necessary as he lapped up every drop of her sweet blood. She shuddered as he pulled out and carefully released her so she wouldn’t fall.

She immediately gripped the desk to support her shaky legs. He knew the feeling. His own legs were liquid with spent passion. Sure, he’d fucked harder and longer in the past, but somehow, in this brief, intense encounter with Blaspheme, his mind and body had given over more than they ever had.

Stepping back, he mentally cleaned himself up, tucked his semihard cock back in his pants, and zipped. With another mental tweak, he tidied Blaspheme as well, and then bent to gather her clothes.

“We should go see Gethel now,” he said, fully engaging business mode in an effort to leave the emotional shit behind.

He tossed her scrubs, lab coat, and stethoscope onto the desk… and casually slipped her destroyed underwear into his pocket. He’d never been a sicko who kept souvenirs of his conquests, but for some reason, he hadn’t been able to let go of Blaspheme, and he thought that maybe keeping something of hers would help.

Yeah, that’s some loaded rationale. Keep something that belongs to the female you need to let go
.
That’ll help you forget.

Irritation at his own stupidity made his voice harsher than he intended as he barked, “Come on. Gethel’s not getting any less pregnant.”

Blaspheme’s shoulders heaved, and she made a sound that froze him in place.

“Blaspheme?” She made the sound again, and alarm shot through him. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she croaked. And then, “No.”

Suddenly, sobs racked her body and she slid to the floor in a crouch, her face buried in her hands as she cried.

Raw emotion seized him, scrambling his insides and setting him on the edge of hyperventilation. He couldn’t handle seeing a female cry. Memories of his mother huddled in the back of her cell as she rocked back and forth and wept brought him to his knees in front of Blaspheme.

Very gently, he pulled her against him and used his body to buffer her violent sobs. He didn’t say anything; what was there to say? He wasn’t even entirely sure what was wrong. All he knew was that she was in pain, and he was fucking helpless to do anything about it.

After what seemed like hours, her crying let up enough for him to reach onto her desk and fumble around for the tissue box. He found a slip of paper with some sort of cryptic writing on it, and then his fingers found what he was looking for.

He pressed a tissue into her hand. “Hold on for a second, okay?”

She nodded, turning away to blow her nose as he stood and gathered her clothes. He tucked the piece of paper and her cell phone inside her purse, and then he lifted her into his arms and flashed them both to his bedroom.

He expected her to argue as he carefully tucked her into bed, but she went as limp as a cooked noodle, which was a measure of her exhaustion.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was a muffled whisper into the pillow. “I don’t usually have breakdowns like this.”

“It’s okay.” He climbed into bed and drew her against him as her sobs became sniffles, and finally, she didn’t make any noise except soft snores.

Closing his eyes, he relaxed. Truly relaxed for the first time in… he couldn’t remember. But what he did know was that this felt right, no matter how hard he tried to tell himself that it didn’t. And when the wing anchors on his back began to itch, he once again had the most bizarre desire —

That’s when it happened. His wings sprouted from the slits near his shoulder blades. The left one, blocked by the mattress, lay useless against his back. But the right one spread out in ebony, gold, and silver glory, and he didn’t fight instinct as it lowered over Blaspheme’s body, covering her in a protective cocoon of feathers.

He’d given her the Angel’s Embrace, an act of affection, promise… or love.

Gods, he was a fool.

 

 

Blaspheme woke to the mouthwatering aroma of grilled meat. She opened her swollen eyes, wincing at the dry, gritty aftermath of a crying jag. It had always seemed strange that an excess of tears could produce such a parched sensation.

Wait… she’d been crying in her office. In front of Revenant. She groaned and covered her head with the blankets.

Blankets that smelled like Revenant.

God, how could she have fallen apart like that? She wasn’t even sure what, exactly, had caused her to break down, but what she did know was that it couldn’t happen again. She was stronger than that. She’d had to be, to survive this long.

“Hey.” His voice, smoky and resonant, broke into her thoughts, but she wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. “I have food.”

She poked her head out of the covers and peeked at him as he entered the bedroom with a brown paper sack. “Food?”

He held up the grease-stained bag. “Fresh delivered from my favorite underworld pub.”

Hunger beat out embarrassment, and she sat up, realizing at the last second that she was naked. Hastily, she tucked the blankets between her arms and ribs to keep herself covered.

Not that Revenant hadn’t seen every inch of her by now. Still, naked during sex was different than naked and emotionally exposed. She felt like he’d seen not only her body uncovered, but her mind as well.

Something glittery caught her eye, and she reached across the pale blue comforter, her fingers finding the most exquisite feather. Roughly the size of a bald eagle’s tail feather, it was a luxurious blue-black satin shot through with gold and tipped with silver.

“Wow,” she said. “Yours?”

Revenant turned about ten shades of red. Why, she had no idea. If her feathers looked like this, she’d be showing them off all the time. Sadly, hers were the translucent with a pinkish shimmer that all False Angels had, and while they looked exotic from a distance, up close they were crepe paper–thin and meant only for show.

Not that she was complaining. She had no idea what her real wings looked like, and she didn’t want to know. Knowing meant her False Angel enchantment was gone, and she’d likely be dead before she could get intimate with her feathers.

“Ah… yeah. It’s mine.” Revenant sank down on the bed and pulled four foam boxes out of the bag, plus napkins and plastic utensils. “There’s smoked ribs, saucy meatballs, and chops.”

“Not one for vegetables, huh?”

He opened the last box to reveal crisp, golden fries. “Voilà. Vegetables.”

“As a physician, I’m going to throw down a bullshit flag on that one.” Carefully setting aside the feather, she reached for the box full of charred ribs, but pulled her hand back at the last second. “Dare I ask what kind of meat this is?”

He rolled one broad shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Dunno. How strong is your stomach?”

She had a feeling he was teasing, but she wasn’t going to test that theory. She poked a meatball with a plastic fork and gobbled the thing down in two bites. Next, she put a hurting on the ribs, not caring that Revenant was watching her with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“What?” she mumbled through a mouthful of fries. “Never seen anyone eat before?”

“I like watching you eat. I’d have liked to cook the food myself, but I didn’t want to leave you alone while I went hunting.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” she said, even as she wondered how often he cooked for females. “But I’m definitely not going to ask what you would have gone hunting for.”

“That’s probably wise.”

They finished eating in surprisingly comfortable silence, and when she was done, Revenant disappeared into the bathroom. He returned with a wet washcloth and stunned her into silence when he very tenderly wiped her face, dabbing beneath her eyes with the greatest of care. Then he moved on to her mouth and hands, catching every bit of sticky sauce and fry grease.

She had a feeling he’d tended to someone like this before. It was hard to imagine that this big, bad Shadow Angel could be so gentle and caring.

As he finished up, she covered his hand in hers. “Who was she?”

He knew what she meant, and shadows flitted in his eyes. “My mother,” he said quietly.

And then, as if he’d gotten a shock stick rammed up his ass, he shoved to his feet and tossed the washcloth in a corner pile of clothes. He yanked a black Guns N’ Roses T-shirt out of his drawer and handed it to her.

“I don’t have any underwear that’ll fit you, but I think I have a pair of sweats that’ll work if you cinch up the waist. You know, a lot.”

“It’s okay. I can wear my scrubs. I should be going anyway.”

“Where? Back to the hospital where you just got suspended?”

His words stung… because he was right. Her life was spiraling out of control, and the suspension had been the last straw. Angels were after her, her False Angel enchantment was wearing off, her mother was missing, and she’d lost her job. Then she’d had amazing sex with Revenant that had felt anything but casual.

Her emotions were frayed, but for some reason, here in Revenant’s lair, it was easy to let all of that go.

“Revenant? Why did you bring me here?”

“You were upset.” He gathered up the boxes and trash and shoved it all into the bag it had come in. “You needed to be safe. This is the safest place for you to be.”

“But why? I was safe at the hospital, too.”

“It’s a… rule.”

She climbed out of bed and started to dress. “A rule?”

He nodded. “When a female is in distress, you tend to her.” He appeared to consider what he’d just said. “Unless she tries to kill you. At that point, she’s fair game.”

Blaspheme slipped into her scrub pants. What
was
it with him and rules? He’d gotten himself worked up about her no-touching directive the first time they’d had sex. At the time, she’d thought it was weird, but she’d written it off as Revenant not wanting to give up control. But it seemed that this was something very, very different.

“So… you follow every rule?”

“Rules exist for a reason,” he said gruffly, as if she shouldn’t question it.

“What if they’re stupid?”

“It doesn’t matter. If it’s a law, it’s law.”

She rolled her eyes as she shrugged into her scrub top. “I read once that there’s a law somewhere in California that says you can’t dust furniture with dirty underwear. Are you telling me that you think people should be arrested for dusting their furniture with worn skivvies?”

“No. That’s a moronic law, and people shouldn’t go to jail for that.” At her triumphant grin, he held up his hand. “But if it is, in fact, a law, people shouldn’t get pissed for being arrested because they broke it. Stupid or not, it’s the law.” He pressed on the wall, and a hidden panel slid out of the way, opening up his bedroom to an outdoor forest of gnarled trees and funky bushes with thorns as large as her hand. “But straight up, I’d kill anyone who rubbed their skanky underwear on my furniture. Fucking nasty.”