Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
His voice, a soothing lull, came first, and my skin was so hot, burning as my pulse thundered in my ears before the euphoria of release. I spurted over my stomach and chest, shuddering in my held position as Raphael fucked me through my orgasm, pounding mercilessly, tirelessly, until he curled over my back, twisting my head to the right and burying his fangs in the other side of my neck, sucking hard as he came violently, bucking against me, in me, hammering until he collapsed, the feral claiming leaving us both utterly spent.
I felt floaty, disembodied, lost in the liminality between being awake and being asleep. When he carefully slid free of my still clenching channel, I felt the gush of warm fluid, but it didn’t anchor me. I was still separate, not in my body, but in my head. When everything loosened, I was swimming, rising, lifting for the surface, for air, for breath.
“Look at me.” He rumbled out the demand, and I was untucked, stretched out, and gently arranged on the bed.
I tried really hard to open my eyes. My body tingled as blood rushed to my limbs, and he gently massaged my arms and legs, my back and feet.
“Jackson…fuck…open your eyes.”
But I wanted to sleep.
“No way I let you— Baby, look at me.”
With monumental effort, I got my eyes open, and then I was no longer sleepy at all.
“Okay,” he said quickly, releasing the breath he’d been holding. “I thought you—”
“Raph,” I breathed out, staring at his enormous black-feathered wings, noting the iridescent glow that seemed to be emanating from them. “Why aren’t those gold?”
He grimaced as he raked a hand through his thick hair. “I fell, for a time, into ruin, and for my abandonment of my place, and for losing hope…Michael has made this change.”
“I prefer the black.”
“As do I,” he said, beaming down at me for a moment before his face fell and he looked unsure. “But tell me honestly, did I hurt you?”
“Hurt me when?”
“Just now,” he ground out.
“No, you didn’t hurt me,” I snapped at him, feeling suddenly like myself again. “You have never hurt me, even in the beginning, before it was love.”
I watched him swallow hard.
“And that, what we just did… That was fuckin’ amazing.”
“You’re certain?” he asked, searching my face, worried now, sitting down beside me on the bed in our room overlooking the sea. There was a warm breeze gently moving the gossamer curtains, and I couldn’t remember ever feeling so safe or content. He was with me, and after thinking I’d lost him, it was a blessing. “I’m just worried.”
“Raph, you fucked me while I was tied up, you bit—” I checked my neck, both sides, and it was sore, but I wasn’t bleeding. “You bit me and took blood, and now you’re second-guessing what you did?”
“I’m not second-guessing,” he said, reaching out to cup my face in his hand. “You and I both know that seeing marks on you that I put there allows me to live well in my own skin.”
I did know that.
“But I’ve never had you completely in my hands and—”
I sat up and kissed him hard, stealing his breath, making him open for me so I could chase his tongue until he surrendered.
The whimper let me know I had him. Lifting for a moment, letting him breathe, I crawled into his lap, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed him again, tipping his head back, plundering his mouth, pressing against him tight, so tight, until he broke the kiss to speak.
“I love you,” he rumbled, and the tears were not surprising as he hugged me to his heart. “You’re mine and will always be. And never again,” he promised, and the darkness crept back into his voice, deadly and possessive and scary, “will we be parted. I cannot bear it.”
And neither could I.
SEVEN
Raphael had moved us seamlessly from the tower in Gehenna to Anahel’s villa, because once he’d found me, he could. He was not letting either of us remain in hell a moment more than we had to. I was thankful.
He had been in his cell, in heaven, and when he felt the demon’s intention to kill me spear through him, his cry cracked open the door, which should have been unbreakable. Michael was there in seconds, watching Raphael, on his knees, clutch the bracelet on his wrist that was on fire, burning. In moments, his entire arm was engulfed in flames.
Seeing the conflagration changed everything for Michael, because that he understood. He believed in his heart and soul that nothing evil could ever come from fire. It was perfect, cleansing, and the bracelet reacting to the imminent loss of love, of soul, of life was what convinced Michael. He released Raphael from prison and gave him his sword, the flaming one. The purifier of all.