Chapter Four
Liss should be tired. She’d massively changed time zones. Traveled to, well, Scotland was their best guess, on a dimension-shifting staircase. Skimmed more than forty books.
Yes, that was thanks to the potion.
Zavier didn’t get to tell her what to do. Plus, she trusted Aradia. Double plus, it wasn’t like she planned to use the potion often. And after all that, they’d gone to the perfect English pub for dinner.
But she was too wired to be tired. Too excited to risk missing a moment of her first trip abroad in almost a decade.
Her first trip abroad without the silent, thick disapproval of her parents coating the entire experience.
Europe without that was pretty great.
Europe with a taciturn-bordering-on-surly, easy-on-the-eyes tour guide was pretty freaking terrific.
She tugged at Zavier’s arm. And only wobbled a little bit when he stopped. Maybe that third beer hadn’t been the best idea. But what else would’ve washed down the sticky toffee pudding?
“Hang on.”
“We’ve made it exactly one step over the threshold.” He shifted her out of the pub’s doorway, but went no farther.
“I want to take a picture.”
“No.” There was no room for finagling in his tone. “ Nephilim avoid social media. The world might pick up on the fact that I’ve looked a rock-hard thirty for your entire lifetime.”
“What makes you think I’m an influencer? Geez.” His objection was equal parts insulting and hilarious. There’d been innumerable opportunities to take photos of him with his wings out, their WatchTower behind Niagara, all sorts of off-limits angelic secrets. She’d kept every bit of their true identities a secret. “I won’t post it. I want a memory of tonight. Just for me. I promise.”
“Fine.” He centered them in front of the oak-paneled door. Angled the camera to catch the etched glass of the window.
“Don’t smile,” Liss warned at the last second. “Wouldn’t want the pixels in my iPhone to abandon ship at such an uncharacteristic expression.”
“You’re mocking me? After I steered you away from the fish and chips to the steak and ale pie that, I quote, rocked your world?”
“Good point. Take another one. And be sure you smile this time. Think about skewering something purple and oozy with a spear.”
The photo snapped, catching him in not just a smile, but a rare laugh. London looked great on Zavier. When he finished laughing, he took her arm to guide her down the street. “I like other things in life besides killing demons.”
“Really? When was the last time you effused over a…rainbow?”
“Thailand. Two years ago. I came through the Khlong Lan waterfall in time to watch a Nang Mai , a…tree sprite…walk through the bottom of a rainbow. When she came out the other side, she sparkled with all of its colors.”
“That’s specific. Do you have one of those eidetic memories? You can name what you were doing every hour of every day?”
“Nah. But watching a naked tree sprite dress in a rainbow? That’s freaking memorable.”
“Ah. She was naked. That does amp up the story.” Jealousy scratched at her. For no reason. They were accidental friends. Friends by proximity to other friends. Liss, technically, had no claim on Zavier whatsoever.
“Not my style.”
“Really? You’d kick a tree sprite out of your bed?” Not that Liss had a clue what they looked like. But she imagined something lissome and blonde . And bendy, like willow tree branches.
“I wouldn’t let a tree sprite into my bed. Nobody shares my bed.”
“Ever? You’re an angelic monk?”
“Hell, no. You must’ve seen me look at you.”
Uh, no. Never. “My dentist looks at me, Zavier. It just means he’s calculating if he can go to Hawaii or Bali thanks to my numerous crowns and night guards.”
“C’mon, Liss. I’ve looked at you.”
The way he said it, with that emphasis and the husky drop by at least half an octave, stood the hair on her arms on end as they crossed the bridge over the Thames. Old-fashioned lamps glistened off the water. “Well. You’ve been circumspect about it. I never noticed.”
The entire night had verged on a date. An almost-date? That had to be a thing, unlike being almost a virgin, right? There’d been a weird vibe. And no, Liss hadn’t caught him looking at her boobs.
Which was a rarity.
She was well aware they were the first thing most people noticed. Liss believed in working her assets—in this case, a pair of 38Cs that really popped in a push-up. Today she had them in a deep-cut, rib-knit forest green sweater.
And he’d been looking ?!
Impossible.
She had to have imagined the frosting of sexual tension on top of their usual snark.
“Okay, when was the last time you sat and watched an entire sunset?”
“Yesterday. I try to catch either the sunrise or sunset every day.”
“Seriously?”
“Once you’ve been imprisoned, you don’t take anything for granted ever again. I watch the sunrise. I appreciate the needle drive of the water jetting from my shower. I’m thankful for the duvet on my bed. And for strolling with a beautiful woman under a full moon while boats pass below us.”
It wasn’t the beers that were making her weak in the knees. It was Zavier .
Liss used the time while he bought tickets at a kiosk to organize her thoughts. Or rather, to marshal her thoughts.
The ones that said he was hot as fuck, but they were friends so he was off-limits? Locked away.
The ones that said Zavier was almost triple her age and thus off-limits if she had an ounce of sense? Buried.
The ones that said he was still, decades later, admittedly messed up from his capture and torture and therefore miles away from boyfriend material? Shoved in a corner. Not looking for a boyfriend.
She concentrated on the hot AF part.
And how she hadn’t had sex since these Nephilim had come into her life six months ago.
And tree sprites aside, Zavier struck her as a man who was severely pent up and needed a good release.
Liss looked up at the bright lights of the London Eye. There was no line—the Ferris wheel was about to start its slow circle. Which would give her time to have the conversation, lay out her points in a way that would convince him.
“Hurry up.” He held out his hand.
Liss took it, and they jogged past the entrance and into a glass-enclosed pod. As soon as the door shut, there was a gentle jerk before they began to move.
“How’d you get us a private pod?”
“Handed over my credit card.” He smirked. He did it a lot. Liss thought it made him look like a modern-day Zorro, with his flashing dark eyes and a permanent bronze to his skin and the ultra-confidence he wore tighter than a spandex uniform.
“That means I’d flinch at the price, doesn’t it?”
Zavier guided her to the front of the pod. “Hey, the flight over here was free.”
“Ha-ha. I feel guilty letting you buy something so extravagant on my behalf.” Liss worked . She wasn’t a freeloader off her exceptionally wealthy friends. Not just to earn the always necessary cash, but to contribute .
“Metafora is successful beyond our wildest dreams.”
Of course it was. They were freaking angels. Extraordinary warriors, aka strategic. Smart. Devastatingly handsome. And, well, Gideon at least was charming. “Speaking every language must’ve been a key to turning you all into international shipping magnates.”
“It didn’t hurt. And it turns out that people will pay just about anything to get demons eradicated. I’m flush. Aside from season tickets to the Bills and the Sabres, I don’t spend much.” Zavier looked at her hands on the rail and deliberately put his an inch to the right. “Let me do this to make you smile.”
Aha!
She hadn’t imagined the sexual tension.
A friend would’ve said “enjoy yourself on me.” Or “this’ll be fun for both of us.” The way Zavier phrased it…
It meant that Liss was going for it.
She stared down at the Houses of Parliament. Sturdy. Formidable. She tried to channel their vibe. “I think we should hook up tonight.”
Zavier said…nothing. He did gape at her, mouth open. Blinked those unfairly long eyelashes.
Stopping was an option. She could blame it on the three beers with dinner and move right along.
But Liss never backed down just because she ran into an impediment. Plus? It was still a solid idea.
Their…whatever their relationship was…was built on snarking at each other. That normalcy ought to jolt him into speech. “Sorry—is that lingo too modern for an eighty-seven-year-old? I’d like to engage in sexual shenanigans with you. Is that better?”
It worked. He frowned and straightened, backing away from her a bit. “I’m as fluent in Urban Dictionary as every other language. I got you. I…just…why?”
Really? A man needed to be told why sex was fun? “You three keep harping on about how the world’s on the brink of ending. If I’m about to die, why not have one more orgasm first?”
Every inch of his body stiffened. “Because I’m no good.”
“You’ve got all the right equipment. I’ve seen you in swim trunks. I declare you to be more than good enough.”
A muscle twitched along his jaw. “I’m not good on the inside.”
“That’s not really the part of you that I’m propositioning.” She could wear him down. Because she’d figured out the issue. Zavier was being a gentleman . Trying to protect her from being tainted by deeper contact with him. Pretending like a few hours spent horizontal would irrevocably smear his inner depression and darkness all over her psyche.
It was bullshit.
Liss—as she’d said repeatedly—didn’t need protection. She needed a glorious release from all the stress and fear and tension.
So she pushed again. “Maisy told me that Nephilim stamina is endless. That makes you more than qualified.” She rounded her lips into an O , bumped his hip, then covered her mouth with her hand with all the drama of a dying mezzo-soprano. “Or are you an eighty-eight-year-old virgin?”
Those dark eyes narrowed again. Guess he had a typical human male ego beneath those wings that didn’t like to be poked. “For fuck’s sake, no. I know what to do. How to do it. I do it well.”
“Excellent,” she purred.
Zavier slapped a hand against the window. The entire pod rocked. “I am dark, Liss. Literally tortured. Memories of it bombard me every day. I haven’t gotten over it. I’m filled with bitter, dark rage that chokes me.”
All the more reason for a distraction. “So let me put you out of that headspace. At least for a little while?”
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I assure you that I do.” Deliberately, she closed the gap between them. Close enough that a deep inhale by either one would initiate contact. Zavier was probably expecting a stroke of her hand, or a press along his body.
He’d be wrong.
Drastic action was the only way to get through his thick head.
Liss sort of slithered close, legs scissoring around his waist. She locked her fingers into his hair. The other arm slapped across his back. And then she bit him on the lower lip.
Not hard. More like poking an animal with a stick to get its attention.
It worked.
Zavier used one arm as a shelf under her butt to lift her higher. He wrapped her hair around his hand until it tugged her head back.
He kissed her.
Hard. Like they’d already been at it for half an hour. Bruisingly hard. Teeth mashing against lips.
It was fantastic .
Zavier tugged again at her hair, stretching her neck back. Then he scraped his teeth along the side of her throat. Halfway down, he paused, sucked until it felt as if her skin stretched away from her body, and then rasped his tongue along the spot.
Goose bumps erupted, despite her winter coat and sweater. Liss shivered. It was as if all her nerves in her entire body were connected to that small spot on her neck.
What could he do with his tongue… lower ?
He spun them around until her back was pressed against the center pole. His teeth kept up their sensory assault along her collarbone to the dead end at the sternum. Letting go of her hair, he slid his hand beneath both her sweater and her bra’s cup, sweeping them both under her breast.
Zavier growled. Then again, as he simply stared at her nipple.
Liss had never felt so desired.
Another rumble came from deep in his throat as he finally put his mouth back on her. And it was glorious .
In quick, snappy bites he circled closer and closer until his lips closed around her nipple. Liss’s hips jerked forward. The relentless sucking that hardened her nipple continued. Either a sigh of encouragement or a plea for more whooshed from her mouth.
She slid down just enough to feel his hardness at the aching junction of her thighs before he resettled her higher. Trying to stay in position, she reached over his shoulder…
…and touched his wings.
Her eyes flew open. They were almost at the ceiling of the pod. His wings beat a steady rhythm that sure seemed like it perfectly matched her thudding pulse. Wings that felt like melted velvet beneath her fingertips.
Even when he’d flown her places, she’d never dared to touch his wings. Liss had no clue about wing protocol in the Nephilim world. She merely respected them as magnificent and magical and figured they shouldn’t be touched without invitation.
Until now.
She reached out, deliberately, a second time. Traced closer into the arch leading to their connection to his back.
That’s when Zavier shuddered and lurched backward, flying himself into the waist-high rail in front of the window. He landed with a thud.
Then he scooped her breast back into its appropriate coverage. Sort of petted her hair into a nearly un-mussed straight fall. “You had three beers. We’re not doing this tonight.” Taking both of her shoulders, he angled her to the side. “See the dome? That’s St. Paul’s Cathedral.”
Liss took in the sights.
All the while turning over the obvious in her brain. He’d said they weren’t doing it tonight . He hadn’t said “not ever.”
Challenge accepted.