Chapter 43
FORTY-THREE
Take what’s offered. Second chances aren’t guaranteed.
CELINE
Malach is nervous. The concept is so ridiculous, it doesn’t even make sense in my head. He’s perfect. Handsome, strong, and tall—every inch of him is loyal. What more could anyone want? Knowing I’ll be the first and only person to touch him has me buzzing with possessive excitement.
There’s no way for me to turn back time and erase everything he’s gone through, but I’m fully prepared to give him something else to focus on.
I drop to my knees and suck him into my mouth. He groans, the sound hot and heavy, before pulling away and joining me on the floor. “I can’t wait.” Malach crawls down my body, the muscles of his thick forearms bunching as he peels my pants over my hips and thighs. “I need you now.”
The hungry gravel in his voice makes me shiver, and I kick my pants off and reach for his cock. Warm and hard against my palm, it’s thick. I’ll feel Malach long after we’re through. Teasing him, I rub the head against my pussy, coating him with my arousal.
“Take me, then,” I purr. “I’m yours, and I always have been.”
He presses in an inch, then three, and a vein in his neck pulses. The urge to plant my heels on the floor and take control is hard to ignore, but I can’t rush this, no matter how badly I want him to fuck me.
Malach waited for me against all odds. He can have me on his terms, at his pace.
His forearm is planted beside my face, flexed from propping himself up.
I trace the bulging line of muscle with my lips, scattering kisses from his wrist to his elbow.
Malach’s face softens, and he dips into a half pushup to kiss me, holding himself suspended as we make out.
His lips are full and soft—I could kiss him forever and never want to stop.
I’m so lost in the taste of him, that his next thrust takes me off guard. Malach buries his cock all the way inside me with a snap of his hips. I groan, and he shudders, green eyes wide, glassy, and locked on mine.
In this moment, we’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Celine and Malach, two angels who love each other despite everything. All the waiting and longing and pain are worth it, because he’s finally mine.
Tears leak from my eyes, and my wings move on their own.
Curling around us both and protecting Malach’s scarred back, they turn from plain white to glittery golden.
My eyes widen. I’m used to my temperamental wings, but they’ve never done this before.
The shade is a direct match to the spine. It feels like a sign.
Malach kisses the tears from my cheeks and makes love to me slowly. Like nothing matters but me. As if we aren’t on the floor of a sitting room surrounded by the rubble of the wall we tore down.
I’ll never deserve him, but I’ll kill anyone who tries to take him from me.
Hot, liquid pleasure curls low in my belly. “More, Malach, give me more,” I beg, squirming beneath him.
He thrusts harder, driving me closer to the edge with every snap of his hips.
“Everything,” he gasps. “I’ll give you everything I have.”
The orgasm hits me with the force of a tidal wave, ripples of pleasure turning into a tsunami I’m not sure I’ll survive. Malach groans and stiffens, his cock spasming inside me as he chases his own release. Gasping, I use my grip on his hair to tug his lips down to mine.
When I pull back for air, Malach’s smile steals the oxygen from my lungs all over again. He drags his palm over my forehead, wiping dust away or probably just rubbing it in.
I grin. “Worth the wait?” I’m mostly kidding. Okay, fine, I’m somewhat kidding.
“It was perfect. You are perfect.” His raspy voice sends a shiver down my spine.
“Although, next time, I hope to get you fully undressed.” He glances at my shirt with a wry grin.
His eyes are lighter, less burdened. I’d like to think he found relief in my arms. It’s too cheesy to admit, but I can’t bring myself to care.
“I want to unwrap you, too,” I say, glancing at the thick, roped muscle of his arms. Malach is stacked, and now that I’m thinking about it, I’m kicking myself for only yanking his pants off.
His grin turns wicked. “Not now, my truth. You must train for your duel.”
I scowl. “Really, Malach? You’re still inside me.”
“You don’t mind, do you?” He drags his lips along my jaw. “I can’t bear to leave you yet.”
And there he goes again, making my heart bleed.
I kiss the dimple in his chin. “You can stay as long as you want.”
Genuine regret crosses his face. “We must train.”
I rock my hips, pushing him deeper inside me. He’s getting hard again. I’m tempting him, and I’m obsessed with the outcome. Malach wants to train, and he has a one-track mind—if I can distract him, I’ll essentially be all-powerful.
His eyes widen as I squeeze him with my inner muscles. He pulls out and drops back on his heels. “You did that on purpose.” He sounds scandalized, and I can’t help but giggle.
Silvery shapes form beside us, and I groan. “For fuck’s sake. This is inappropriate, Mom.” She can’t hear me. I’m almost sure of that, but her echoes are crossing a line.
Malach covers his half-hard dick with his hand, and I smother another giggle as an earlier version of us takes shape. Fingers entwined, they’re preparing to deliver vows to each other. Gods, we were so young.
Malach grapples with his pants and tosses mine to me. I wince at the stickiness between my legs. “If we’re going to practice dueling, I need to rinse off first.”
His soft expression sours. “Fine,” he mutters sullenly.
I roll my eyes. “Malach, I’m not going to train while dripping cum.”
“I understand.” Except, he doesn’t. His bottom lip juts out in an obvious pout as if I took away his favorite toy.
I shake my head. “You can fill me up again later. How about that?”
His eyes take on a faraway gleam, and I shiver as I imagine what he’s thinking about. Malach is needy in a freaky way, and I love it.
I climb to my feet, feeling grounded—like I’ve finally gotten things right. Luca, Alistair, Ciprian, Riven, and Malach own my heart, even if I haven’t gotten around to having that conversation with Riven yet. Maybe it’s destiny, or maybe I was born greedy, but I won’t give any of them up.
“Let’s train,” I say, sparing one last glance for the younger versions of us.
They seem softer, their edges less defined.
My mom stands off to one side, smiling proudly, her eyes filled with tears.
Even through the echo, I can make out the shadowed, fading bruises on her wrists.
The hollows beneath her eyes are endless.
The reminder sobers me.
She might not have been strong enough to get rid of him, but she did her best, and I’ll do the rest. For her memory and for my future. Then maybe she’ll be able to rest, the echoes of her pain fading enough to allow her to finally experience peace.
For her sake, I hope the eternal beyond is real.
I grind to a halt as we leave Mom’s sitting room.
Malach bumps into me, his fingers grazing my wings as he does his best not to bowl me over. My feathers are still golden, but the color is fading.
Luca, Alistair, Ciprian, and Riven stare at my shiny wings, which decide to flutter like they’re showing off a new trick. Naturally. If I could communicate with them the same way Luca talks to his basilisk, I would tell them to knock it off.
“They’re awesome,” Ciprian says, running his fingertips along one feather.
Under his touch, it glows metallic once again. His eyes light up, and he reaches for another one. I shiver as he caresses the edge and step back against Malach’s chest, needing a break from the stimulation before this leads to more. I’m sticky enough as it is.
“None of that,” I gasp. “I’ve got things to do.”
Ciprian sighs. “Later?”
“Yes, please.” The word explodes out of me before I can stop it. But with all of them staring at my wings, all I can think about is how incredible it would be to be touched by all of them at the same time. I might not survive the pleasure, but I’m happy to give it my best shot.
No one laughs. The heat in the hallway skyrockets.
I shift my weight. “Why are you all standing out here, anyway?” I need to stop thinking about getting my wings rubbed. This is not the time.
Alistair grins, and his fangs peak over his bottom lip. “We were coming to check on you, angel, then we realized you were . . . occupied.”
Luca smacks him in the chest. “We ran Lyklan off and guarded the door.”
“And ensured you weren’t disturbed,” Riven says gravely.
I raise one eyebrow. “Were you protecting my privacy, or did you just want to listen?”
Luca steps forward and kisses my cheek. “Can’t it be both?” He licks his lips and frowns. “What the fuck is on your face, baby? You look like you’ve been rolling in cocaine.”
“We took a wall down,” I mutter.
Ciprian grabs Malach’s hand, raises it, and smacks his other palm against it. “I didn’t know you had it in you. Good job, man.”
I open my mouth to correct him. We didn’t knock a wall down while fucking.
That’s absurd, and reckless, and neither Malach nor I would be that careless.
Then I see the pleased flush on Malach’s face and stop myself.
For once, he isn’t carrying the weight of the world.
I hide my smile—I can’t lie for shit, but I can keep my mouth shut.
If he likes there being a rumor of us demolishing a wall during sex, I won’t take that away from him.
“Malach and I are going to work on some radiant attacks,” I tell them. “If you want to watch.”
Ciprian snorts. “Is that a euphemism?”
I shove him, and he grins.
“If you’re training, I’m happy to stand in as your opponent,” Riven says.
I freeze, one hand braced against Ciprian’s chest, and frown. “It’s too dangerous, Riven. These attacks aren’t the kind you walk away from without a mark.”
“I can take it, darling.”
“But you shouldn’t have to,” I insist. “I don’t want to cause you pain.”
He opens his mouth to argue, but Malach speaks before he can. “We won’t be throwing spells at each other much either.” He glances at me and smiles. “I’ll see if I can scrounge up our old training dummies.”
Ciprian smirks at Riven. “Don’t look so disappointed. Did you really want her to blast a hole in you?”
Riven’s face glitches, and I gasp, because it’s not static overriding the amber, but the other face. The one I’ve almost gotten used to. Angular cheekbones, a strong jaw, and warm brown skin.
Ciprian does a double take. “Dude, is that your real face?” I elbow him in the gut to shut him up, but it’s too late. He’s already asked.
Riven returns to amber, and his eyes widen.
I smile gently at him and nod.
“I-I don’t know.” He glances down, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. “Celine believes it is.”
Luca steps over to him, stopping a few inches away. “Can you do it again? Maybe the binding is unraveling. Try to replicate the emotion you just had.” Luca’s genuinely excited. I can hear it in his voice, but Riven is overwhelmed, and the urge to protect him is riding me hard.
“Ease off a bit,” I whisper. “It’s a lot to process.”
Luca claps Riven on the shoulder, and Riven stares at his hand in shock. “Sorry about that.” Luca smiles. “If it’s happening more often, I bet it’s only a matter of time. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I know it’s a sensitive subject, but I’m happy for you.”
Riven nods, and this time when his face glitches, it’s the familiar black-and-white static. I don’t allow myself to be disappointed. As Luca said, it’s only a matter of time, and I don’t care what Riven looks like. I want him either way.
Ciprian’s snort draws everyone’s attention. He waggles his eyebrows at me. “Of course you bagged yourself another hottie. If you went into a store blindfolded, I bet you’d be able to find the most expensive thing there, wouldn’t you?”
I examine my nails. They’re unpainted, but at least they’re clean and neat again. “I have excellent taste,” I tell him.
Riven’s next glitch brings his face back again.
Alistair tilts his head. “Maybe we can get a picture for you.” He glances at me. “Have you tried triggering the reaction in front of a mirror?”
Blood rushes to my cheeks, and I force myself to hold my head high. “I tried that first,” I mutter. “So far, it’s a no go.”
Alistair’s expression turns wicked, and suddenly I’m painfully aware of my sticky situation again. Without another word, I walk away from them, heading for the bathroom and ignoring their teasing as they trail after me.
Clean up, change pants, and train for the duel—it’s the only acceptable order of operations. There’s no time for orgies. Yet.