Ashes of Angels (16 page)

His fingers, still exploring her, thumbed the peak of her entrance.

“If only I could feel your tongue there,” she murmured deeply. “That's the sweet spot.”

“Let's try it this way.” He sucked his forefinger, then placed it, wet and hot, against her swollen nub. He slicked it about, slowly, then firmly. “Doesn't itch?”

“No, that's, oh…”

“You like it when I go slow like this?”

“Mmm-hmm, you've just the right touch. Not too hard, not too soft. Oh, Sam.”

“You're so hot and wet. I want you all over me, Cassandra.”

Inside me,
she wanted to say, but what he was doing right now was too good to make him stop. And the angel did need to learn, and how to gain experience without practice?

Closing her eyes, she stretched her arms above her head and under the pillow. Silk fabric kissed her skin. Hard, muscled flesh melted into her. Sam's masterful fingers found places
on her she had never discovered herself. He owned her, this outlaw angel. Her body hummed at his direction. It danced and wanted to spin out of control, but she thought her reaction to his manipulations might freak him out.

And then she couldn't care because the orgasm attacked and Cassandra cried out, loud and long and moaning as her muscles contracted and she rode the delicious wave he'd created in her.

Kissing a path up her stomach and to her breasts, Sam gave a breathy “Wow.”

She sighed and surrendered to soft laughter because her body was loose and relaxed and it felt right. “I come rather forcefully.”

“That was amazing. Your body took off. Sort of spilled over. I did that?”

She giggled. “Oh, Sam, come here. Move up and put yourself inside me. I want you to fill me.”

He kissed his way along her neck and over the sensitive skin on her collarbone to the edge of each shoulder in turn. When he finally reached her mouth she devoured his texture, the faint taste of salty sex and the sweep of his wanting tongue.

Gripping his erection, she guided him to her mons and the head of him, hot against her, felt like fire as he slid down and then inside. They both gasped at the intensity of heat their joining produced. It was as though he burned through her, yet it was a wanting, delicious burn.

He pistoned inside her, arms paralleling her and jaw tense as he got lost in the sensation. His eyes closed, he traveled to a new place, and she loved watching him over her, a student to sex and a master of her body.

He cried out. Clutched her behind the shoulder and drew her to him as he began to shudder and he stopped moving inside her. The angel fell deep inside the muse, trapping himself in freedom.

C
assandra stretched like a cat on the slick satin sheets. Hair tumbled over her face, veiling her eyes from the hazy morning sunlight. Against her back the length of Sam's hard, muscled body warmed her spine. Somehow his body matched her temperature when they touched.

Smiling, she dropped her arm along the side of the bed and teased the rough seam of his jeans with a fingernail. The halo was still hooked at the waistband. She took the circlet between two fingers.

It was lighter than it looked, and it did resemble a kid's toy, as Coco had described after finding the halo a few months ago. It felt like tin, and wasn't shiny but dull. So weird. Shouldn't it be gold or silver and gleam with the intensity of a thousand suns and radiate divinity?

She smirked, and flipped the halo so it slipped over her hand to her wrist as if a loose bracelet. Rolling to her back, she held up her arm, wrist bent and halo crooked high at the base of
her hand. Not exactly bling, but touching it meant more to her than any diamond ring ever could.

Touching it, and knowing its owner would not mind. And that he slept beside her, peaceful and exhausted after making love to her.

Making love!

They'd come together. And now she felt Sam could never harm her, even if in half form. The love they'd shared would touch his glass heart and keep his monster at bay.

Or was she dreaming? Making up happily-ever-afters because she knew happy endings were a crock?

Your mother and father were two very different people. They are not you.

Yet she and Sam were very different. He could become more like her, though. It might be possible to have a relationship if Sam were human. Yet she couldn't fathom being an angel—a divine being—and suddenly becoming human. Human must be so much less than an angel. He'd have memories of serving God, for goodness' sake!

Or would he? Beyond becoming completely mortal, she wasn't sure what happened when the Fallen claimed their earthbound soul. If he lost his memories of divinity, that might make transition to living on earth easier.

Wait. She did know. When Eden Campbell, a fellow muse, fell in love with a Sinistari demon and he had claimed his soul, he had lost all memory of Above. So Sam would, too.

But how to begin a new life as an already grown man? Suddenly planted on earth with no schooling or skills to find a job? Certainly Sam knew everything after walking the world, but did that translate to a job? As well, would he retain that knowledge if he lost his memory? She wasn't sure. He had nothing, no money or home. He'd have to find a sugar mama to support him.

Which she could entirely entertain doing. Taking care of
him. Loving him. She could barely support herself selling jewelry, but who needed money when they had love?

Did
they have love? It felt like love to her. Definitely something beyond like. But it was new love, so tender and untested. It could either develop into something strong and secure, or shatter like an angel's wings if they were not careful.

She took the halo off her wrist and twisted to look over Sam's sleeping body. Naked, he gleamed like a sun god. Beautifully tan, sculpted muscles defied the norm. She'd read stories that described a hero's abs as being rock hard, but his really were. Every part of him was solid, yet sinuous, begging for her touch. Again.

She moved the halo above his abs, paralleling his body as she drew it higher and held it there, over his face. Just a few more inches and it would be above the crown of his head. According to Granny, that was all a Fallen had to do to claim his soul—put the halo above his head.

Cassandra sucked in her lower lip. Should she do it? A flick of her wrist could change him forever. And he'd forget his origins, so it wasn't as though he could blame her for something he could not recall.

She wanted him human and normal and able to love her without the desire to return Above. It was selfish, though. She hadn't earned his love.

She lowered her arm and let the halo fall onto the floor.

“Why didn't you do it?” he murmured.

“Sam, I thought you were sleeping.” Mercy, if he'd been aware of what she'd been doing. But apparently he had been. “I…couldn't. It's not my decision. Claiming your earthbound soul should be your choice.”

“But you want me to claim it.”

“I would never influence you.”

He took her hand and kissed it. “I wish you would.”

“To be honest, I wouldn't mind if you were completely
human. I…well hell, I could see having a relationship with you.”

“A permanent one?”

“Maybe. I've only known you a few days.”

Which was another good reason for her to slow down. If he became human and they didn't work out as a couple, he'd be left alone in a world not his own.

He rolled over and glided a palm across her stomach. Their skin communicated and heated in response. Her sigil glowed softly. Muse and angel, an impossible match. They'd defied possibilities.

“Raphael gave me an ultimatum,” he said. “Before I can return Above, it must be accomplished.”

“Which is?”

“I have to bring him your book of names and sigils.”

“I see.” That hurt.

Sam's face lingered inches from hers, so she would not look away and instead pressed the tip of her tongue against the roof of her mouth to stanch the burgeoning tears.

“I know you don't believe that the best place for that book is in the hands of an archangel.”

“Oh, I believe it. Doesn't matter though. It's missing.”

Sam sighed. “Right. There's a code within the names and sigils you've gathered. The code for the Final Days.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, should anyone ever recite the coded word—anyone with the knowledge and skilled determination to make it so—it will send the angels Above, all of them, plummeting to earth.”

“That's…unimaginable. In my little book? But it's something Granny started, and I…” She didn't finish. She could believe it. She believed in angels and demons and vampires, why not the Final Days? “And you wanted it to give to Raphael?”

“Yes, for safekeeping. But…I didn't want it to be the currency to my return Above.”

“Why not?”

“I will take my soul,” he said. “I want it now.”

“Really? But I thought you wanted to return Above? You said you felt worthless here on earth. That you served no purpose.”

“I did after my initial summons to earth. I've had a change of mind.” He leaned in to kiss her below her breast. His breath tickled and her nipple hardened. “I don't deserve to return Above. I realize now the arrogance of me to ask such a thing. I Fell with purpose, and that purpose was originally wicked. I chose this life upon earth. And now I suddenly want to go home? What kind of double standard is that?”

His thumb swept the undercurve of her breast and he moved to trace her tight, ruched nipple.

“But more so?” He kissed her, a combination of a suckle and a press of his mouth to her bottom lip. “All I ever wanted when I set out to Fall was someone to hold my hand.”

The confession startled her. It was so simple, yet she completely understood the desire. She had held his hand and led him to bed last night. No wonder he'd acted so strange about it at the time. She'd given him his one real desire. And it hadn't been the sex.

“I don't want to leave you. I want to be with you, Cassandra. If you'll have me. Even if it's only for the short time you suspect we can have.”

“Sam, that's a huge sacrifice.”

“Abandoning Above? Yes.” He moved onto his elbows, one to either side of her, his chest gently crushing hers. “But you are the reward.”

“That explains why you went to my home that day. To search for the book instead of vampires. What do we do now that the vampires have the book of names and sigils?”

“I have to battle all the Fallen the vampires summon.” He glanced out the window. Dawn had arrived. Exhaust from a parked car rose in billowy white plumes. “Much as I'd prefer to lay in bed with you all day, I think we'd better sharpen our stakes….”

 

Charging the vanguard could wait until after their shower. Cassandra insisted. It would only take five minutes.

Five minutes grew to twenty as the lovers slicked soapy fingers over skin and through hair and around hardened and sensitive body parts.

“Let me take down your hair,” Sam murmured aside her cheek.

“Then we'll never get out of here. It takes forever to dry, lover. I thought we had a few vampires to stake?”

“First I'm going to stake you.” He placed her hands over her head to grasp the towel bar and gripped it beside her fists. With a shift of his hips, he slid inside her, growling with pleasure as she enveloped him.

Angel boy had definitely learned sex.

 

An hour later they tromped through the unmarred snow in the cemetery. Coco had called and they'd planned a rendezvous. Tombstones were capped with four inches of snow and the pine tree bows hung heavily with more snow.

“Up ahead!” Cassandra took off in a run after seeing her sister wave.

Coco ran toward her, jacket open as usual. They collided in a hug, and Coco gave her a quick, cold kiss on the cheek. “Zane checked out the area. They're in the warehouse on the other side of the forest. We can gain access on the roof.”

Sam arrived and said, “We'll meet you up there.”

In seconds, Cassandra stood on the snow-covered flat roof, wobbling to catch her equilibrium. She glanced over the
treetops that separated the cemetery from the buildings. “I thought angels couldn't fly.”

“That wasn't flight—that was a leap.”

Zane landed next to them with Coco in his arms. The vampire nodded to them and set down his lover.

Cassandra was a little stymied at all the supernatural strength being flaunted yet, at the same time, fascinated. She and her sister dating an angel and a vampire? Who'da thought?

Not that she and Sam were dating. Yet. Maybe.

Hell, one day at a time, Cassandra. Don't pick out the wedding dress yet
.

Sam held her with one arm, crushed against his hard-as-steel body. No jacket. No gloves or ear warmers. Their connection made him so warm. Cassandra wanted to unzip her jacket and press her skin to his, to bleed out some of that luscious Sam warmth. “Over here,” Zane directed. He lifted an iron door, which opened to stairs. “They're at the opposite end of this building. The stairs are noisy so you have to move slowly.”

“We'll go in and check it out.” Cassandra started down the stairs. “Be right back,” she whispered to Coco.

“We'll keep watch,” the vampire confirmed.

She and Sam descended to a catwalk that lined the upper walls in the vast warehouse. They were able to stay out of view behind a low-hanging wide iron beam. Along the walls at the top, dusty multipaned windows let in little natural light. A glow of fluorescent lighting spilled over the farthest end of the warehouse.

It smelled faintly chemical inside, but she couldn't place the scent other than that it made her nose itch. This district had once been home to various manufacturing plants, so anything could have been processed here. And considering it was right next to a graveyard, that added a whole new assortment of smells and distractions.

Following Sam's silent gesture, Cassandra spied the
conglomeration of figures at the opposite end of the building. The people were too small to make out, but one in particular did stand out—and above everyone by three or four heads. It was the monster, naked and yowling and fighting against restraints.

“They have the nephilim.” She clutched the rosary beneath her sweater.

“Those chains won't hold long,” Sam said. “Possibly a spell may be keeping it subdued.”

“Subdued? The thing is yowling like a baby elephant and fighting against the chains.”

Despite not having a clear view, she had to look away. The nephilim grew to full size in seventy-two hours? How had Ophelia died? Had the nephilim…? No, not while the size of an infant. The birth must have taxed her, and without proper medical care, she had bled out.

Had she seen her baby walk away from her? How horrible to witness a monstrous thing come from your own body. And she had been alone.

Cassandra clasped Sam's hand and studied the side of his intent face as he scanned the scene. What was he? Did he have nephilim inside of him? If that is what his child would look like, he had to— No. He was too perfect. The combination of divinity mating with humanity is what created the monster.

Yet what was she? Sitting here so calmly and accepting the man who could induce the horror of a nephilim upon her. And how? By having sex with her. Making love.

What if Granny had been wrong and it was possible to carry an angel's child without him being in half form at the moment of conception?

Sam looked at her. She gasped and pressed a hand over her mouth. He said he couldn't read her mind. But his multicolored eyes saw everything about her. Deep inside to her thoughts,
her dreams, perhaps even her soul. How could he not? He was a freakin' angel.

“Promise you won't hurt me,” she asked, her voice a mere whisper.

He moved in closer. Their breath mingled. “You have my word, Cassandra. You will not become the mother to my child. I swear it to you.”

He kissed her, a seal to his promise.

She sucked in her lower lip, tasting his barely there flavor with her tongue. “Then I promise I won't hurt you,” she returned. As if she could. Never had she felt smaller than right now, in the company of so much divinity.

He nodded, then said, “It's a good thing someone captured the nephilim. That means it's not out walking the streets, able to harm innocent mortals. It feeds on flesh and blood.”

She nodded. “Go, vampires. Not.”