Chapter 30 The Bleeding Angel
THE BLEEDING ANGEL
EMERY
“Miss Jones!” Gretchen leaps up from her desk, chasing me down the corridor as I storm toward NovaTech Pharmaceuticals’ conference room. “Miss Jones! He’s in a meeting! Miss Jones, please! He’s—”
Disregarding all proper etiquette, I ignore her pleas and bust into the meeting room, panting as I search the boardroom table for Quinton. Twelve pairs of eyes snap toward my livid state, and Quin blinks at me.
“Emery?”
“We need to talk.” I harden my features. “Right fucking now.”
Quin doesn’t react to my foul language as he glances around the table.
“Let’s take a short recess.” He stands up, keeping his posture straight and confident as he struts toward me.
He places a gentle palm on the small of my back, whispering in my ear as he guides me out of the meeting room. “Relax, darling.”
Relax? He expects me to relax? How? How the hell am I supposed to relax?
I grumble under my breath, blood thrumming with rage as we slip into his office, and he shuts the door behind us.
Quin remains silent as I pace back and forth in front of him, fuming as I struggle to calm myself down enough to explain my rash behavior.
“Emery…” He tilts his head, brows scrunched with concern. “Perhaps you should sit down.”
I whip my head at him, glaring. “I can’t. I’m… I’m too fucking angry to sit.”
He frowns. “Well, then at least please breathe. Can you do that for me, darling? Can you take a deep breath?”
“No!” I flap my arms, jaw clenched. “I can’t, Quin. I can’t fucking breathe, okay? I can’t get enough oxygen into my stupid fucking lungs. You wouldn’t be able to breathe either if you saw what I saw.”
Quin hesitates before taking a tentative step toward me. He’s smart for hesitating. The force of my fury might be enough to turn him to ash. It’s wise to keep his distance.
“What did you see?”
“Damon.” My gut twists with crippling betrayal as the anger morphs into anguish.
“I saw Damon.” Hot, baffled tears flood my vision as I dig my nails into my palm.
“I saw him with another woman. He was… They were… They were holding hands, Quin. He…” I rip my gaze away from Quin, unable to believe the words coming out of my own mouth.
“He was smiling at her. They… They were smiling at each other.”
“Damon…” Confusion captures Quin’s stoic features. “Damon was with another woman? I don’t—”
“Understand?” I scoff, unable to find a safe emotion in which to sink my rattled claws. “Yeah, I don’t either. What the fuck?” I glare up at him. “Did you know, Quin? Did you know he was fucking around? Is that why he left? Is that why he abandoned me?!”
Quin blinks in surprise, and quickly the shock fades to pain, a childlike hurt. “I’m offended you’d think I’d keep something like that from you.” His jaw ticks. “No, Emery. I have no knowledge of another woman.” He sucks in a sharp, steadying breath. “Perhaps you didn’t see what you thought—”
“Don’t.” I stalk toward him, my back and heart aching. “Don’t you dare try and tell me that I misread the situation. You and I both know Damon does not keep female company. And if he did, wouldn’t we know about them? Hmm? Wouldn’t he mention that he’s made a new ‘friend?’”
“Emery…” Quin gambles putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. Despite the urge to jerk away, I force my body to cement and accept his attempt at grounding me. “I honestly do not believe that he would—”
“Cheat on me?” I cock my head, forcing the tears to remain barricaded behind steel nerves and bolted rage. “He abandoned us, Quin. I never believed that would happen either. No matter how hard things got, I never imagined him leaving. Perhaps we don’t know him as well as we thought.”
“I’m sure there’s a logical explanation…” Quin trails off, rubbing his chin. “I don’t…” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t make any sense. I know, Damon. He’s not one to—”
“Not one to what? Fuck around? Use sex to solve his problems?” I expel an incredulous scoff. “Right. Because Damon is such a eunuch. I forgot.” Realization dawns on me. “Huh… It all makes sense now.”
Quin looks at me with pity. “Emery…”
“No. It makes perfect sense.” I pull away from Quin, aimlessly walking around his office as I put the pieces together. “It’s because I was shot, wasn’t it? Because I couldn’t…” I wince, a knife slicing through my fragile ventricles. “Because I was put on bed rest. He… He needed…”
“Emery, please. Don’t you dare think such vile thoughts.” Quin appears before me, wrapping me in arms so tight that I fear I may crack.
“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” I whisper into his chest, gripping the fabric of his dress shirt. “He must’ve… He must’ve found someone else.”
Quin presses a chaste kiss on the top of my head, subtly rocking me side to side as if attempting to put a restless child to sleep.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions, darling.
Let’s not do that. After all this time. After everything we’ve been through…
” He swallows. “I think we owe Damon the benefit of the doubt. Just this once. Let’s grant him some grace, shall we? ”
“I hate him,” I whimper, squeezing my eyes shut. “I hate him, Quin. I ha—”
“Shh…” Quin threads his fingers through my hair in lulling strokes. “I know, darling. I know. There’s an explanation. I know there is. Trust me, Emery. Please, just trust me.”
“I think we should go away,” I whisper, willing my brain to find a sliver of hope in his words but the effort proves futile. “I-I don’t want to be in New York anymore. Can we go somewhere? Anywhere. Please, Quin.”
He sighs. “I don’t think running away is the solution, Emery.”
I peer up at him through damp lashes. “It’s not running away. It’s a… It’s a vacation. Don’t,” I bite my lip. “Don’t people take like…babymoons or something?”
He gives me a soul-warming smile, his sky blue eyes flicking across my face. “Babymoon?”
I nod. “Can we? It can be close.” I place a hand over my belly. “I know we shouldn’t travel far.”
“Alright.” Quin glides his thumb across my cheek, sweeping up tears as he tries to clean up the mess Damon created. “I’ll plan something, darling. Give me a few days, okay?” He places a long kiss on my forehead. “It’ll all work out, Emery. I promise you.”
I hate promises. Even the pretty ones turn to filth.
I rest my head against the plush headboard, my gaze tracking Quinton as he prepares for bed. It’s time. It’s been long enough. I miss him. I miss his touch. I miss his lips, the way they seal little vows across my skin.
Oh, how badly I wish to trust his oaths.
I can’t… I can’t remain frozen, stuck in a time that no longer exists.
Damon might not be here, he might not love me anymore, but Quin…
Quin is here. He’s here and trying and so fucking patient.
More patient than I deserve. Every ounce of his soul, of his mind, of his goddamn heart is pure.
He’s a living angel, a sort of man that only saints could ever wish to love.
I was never a saint. I was never pure. And yet he deemed me worthy.
Anxiety flutters inside my chest as my gaze follows him from one side of the room to the other, like a sniper whose target won’t stay still long enough to make the shot.
It’s cruel to shoot an angel, to rip off its wings, to siphon its virtuous untainted energy, but I need it.
So desperately, I need it. I can feel my blood start to blacken.
I can feel anger and hurt and pain gearing up to collectively storm the newly crafted hopeful gates of my psyche.
We worked so hard to rebuild what was ruined, what was sullied and corrupt. If a bleeding angel is what it takes to prevent an uprising, then that’s the price I’ll pay. The price he’ll pay.
Quin climbs into bed, slipping under the covers. The heat from his half-naked body radiates into my skin, and I already sense the cleansing power of his presence.
He reaches for a book on his nightstand, placing it on his lap as he opens the pages. I study his eyes, the small, subtle movements as they glide across the sentences.
It’s time.
With a flick of my wrist, the book closes, the faint thud like a starter pistol firing, signaling the race has started. Quin turns his head, his knowing fiery eyes burrowing into mine as he sets the book off to the side.
“Is there something you need, darling?”
“Mhmm…” I nod, skin pebbling with repressed want and desire as I turn on my side, sidling closer to him. My fingers dance across his stomach, drawing tiny circles of intent on his skin. His abdomen clenches at my touch. “I think you know exactly what I want.”
With a restrained, hoarse voice, he whispers, “I can wait, Emery. If you’re doing this because…
” His whole fucking body clenches as I dip a finger under the waistband of his boxer briefs.
His eyes harden, mouth parted. “Be careful, little Emery. Lest you start something you are not keen on finishing.”
I take a long, desperate breath, my breasts expanding, nearly spilling from the low-cut silk nighty. “Don’t worry, Doctor. I have every intention of letting you…finish.”
His eyes darken, flicking down to my stiff, aching nipples. He licks his lips. “It’s been a while, darling. I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself.”
“Control,” I palm his thick, hard erection from under the thin, useless fabric, “is the last thing I want.”
“You’ve been given the green light?”
I squeeze his cock with expert pressure, and he expels a rough, gritty groan. “What do you think?”
Like a beast reanimated and woken from a forced hibernation, Quinton rolls on top of me, his hand diving in between my parting legs as I moan. His lips crash against mine, raw and depraved and so fucking eager.
“I plan on filling you with so much cum, darling,” he growls, swirling his magical finger inside my pussy, “that I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d be carrying two babies by the time the night is over.”
“Fuck,” I whimper, arching into his calculated ministrations.
With a guttural groan, Quin rips the hem of my nighty, surging forward and latching his lips on my sensitive nipples.
I writhe under the licks and flicks, thrusting my hips into his touch. “More… I want more.”
And he obeys. He always fucking obeys. Because angels grant wishes. They grant dreams. They have the ability to bring heaven down to earth, and with one fluid motion, so seamless and slick, Quin thrusts his throbbing, thick cock inside of me, and I can hear fucking angels singing.
“Christ,” he growls, rocking his hips back and forth.
Our skin slaps together like the bass line of a sinful song.
I throw my head back, screaming, moaning, thanking the universe and all its stars that I don’t need to die to experience euphoria, that I don’t need to be permitted through golden gates to taste salvation, that an angel’s blood is all it takes to cross into another plane.
“You’re so fucking perfect. You’re so fucking beautiful,” Quin breathes against my skin, and it’s like he’s blessing me, baptizing me, banishing all doubt and fear and sorrow.
“I will love you forever. I will worship you for the rest of my days.” His hips quiver and clench as he thrusts deeper and deeper, as he carves out my insides and brands himself in every part of my body.
“You take me so good, darling. You take me like such a good fucking girl. You’re an angel. A goddamn angel.”
Quinton’s wrong. I’m not an angel. If I were, I would’ve been able to save him.
But only I’ve been saved.