Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
RAPHAEL
Being the archangel of healing was a tough gig. All day, practically every day, I healed. Sometimes it was too late for the person, and I had to watch them die in front of me.
Sometimes I wanted to fly somewhere and hide.
In the past week, I’d only been summoned to heal Lucifer, who had been an idiot and used most of his light. It would take him a while to regain full strength.
It was a vacation of sorts, except now it appeared I had a babysitting job as well.
I rubbed my hands over my face as I got closer to home. What had I gotten myself into?
I should have known Samara would be trouble the second I laid eyes on her. All I wanted was a late-afternoon jolt of caffeine. I hadn’t been tapped into my ability to sense other angels, but when I opened that bathroom door, she lit up like a Christmas tree.
A very beautiful, purple-haired Christmas tree.
Even without the angel feathers she’d had, the light remained. When I touched her face to get her to relax, I was overwhelmed by the sheer amount she had.
She had more than me.
It was impossible.
I landed on my balcony and stopped short as I walked toward the open French doors. Samara was asleep in my hammock, with the duvet from my bed wrapped around her.
She looked so peaceful that I watched her, not wanting to disturb her. One hand was curled beneath her cheek, the other tucked somewhere in the folds of my duvet. She still radiated light in her sleep, a soft glow I could feel more than see.
She was the most beautiful woman to ever grace my eyes.
And that was saying a lot.
She stirred in the hammock, swaying slightly with the movement. A small sound escaped her lips, something between a sigh and a murmur, and her eyelids fluttered open.
For a moment, she seemed lost and unfocused, caught between wherever she’d been and where she was now. Then her gaze found mine.
Her eyes were mesmerizing, with gray around the outside, like storm clouds gathering at the edges of the sky. But closer to the pupil, there was a faint golden hue that caught the moonlight and bled into silver.
I’d seen thousands of eyes over the centuries—mortal eyes dulling as life left them, angel eyes burning with renewed life—but hers were different.
“Hi.” She pulled the duvet tighter around herself, and I had the sudden urge to pull her into my arms and give her warmth.
I turned away from her, forcing myself to focus on something else. Anything else.
“You came into my room.” I leaned on the railing of the balcony, looking out as the sky started to turn gray with the rising sun.
“I couldn’t sleep despite whatever you did to me. In my defense, I knocked.” I heard the soft creak of the hammock as she extricated herself from it and the whisper of fabric as the duvet trailed behind her.
She came to stand next to me, close enough that her light pressed against mine in a way that felt both foreign and strangely familiar. “Where were you?”
“Heaven.” I turned my head to find her watching me.
She looked away and adjusted the large duvet around her. “I hope you don’t mind me using your blanket.”
I did, but I wasn’t about to tell her that.
“I need to get some sleep. In a couple of hours, my contact is supposed to text me with information about what’s happening in Inferna.” I pushed away from the railing and walked into my bedroom. I paused inside, waiting for her to follow so I could shut the doors.
She moved slowly, as if the duvet were too heavy for her, and it brushed against me as she walked inside. I pulled the French doors closed, the latch clicking into place and locking me in my bedroom with her.
There was a very awkward moment of silence where we stared at each other. Something unspoken pressed in around us, and neither of us broke it. I should have said something to break the tension, but my mind had gone oddly blank.
My gaze dropped to her lips. They were slightly parted and soft, and I wondered what it would be like to kiss her.
I jerked my eyes away, jaw tightening. I shouldn’t have been noticing the way light caught in her eyes, or how good she looked wrapped in my duvet, or the faint flush that had crept into her cheeks.
I definitely shouldn’t have been thinking about her lips.
But I was, wasn’t I?
“I’m going to need my blanket.” The words came out rough, scraping against my throat. “If you’re cold, there are a few extra ones in the chest at the end of the bed.”
I didn’t wait for her response. Couldn’t. The air in the room had grown too thick, pressing in on me from all sides until my wings ached with the urge to unfurl and escape. I walked into my bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me.
I braced my hands on the marble countertop and stared at my reflection in the mirror. It was the same face I’d worn for millennia. The same eyes that had witnessed the birth and death of empires. The same jaw, same mouth, same everything.
But something felt off-kilter, like the world had tilted slightly on its axis, and I was the only one who’d noticed.
I turned on the tap, letting cold water rush over my hands. I splashed some on my face, droplets running down my neck and soaking into the collar of my shirt.
This was ridiculous. I was being ridiculous.
I was drained from healing Lucifer. It wasn’t like healing humans or lower-class angels. I had to restore his light, which required me to use some of mine.
Sleep would restore me to full strength, and my absurd thoughts about kissing the demon would be gone.
After brushing my teeth, I walked back into my room and nearly tripped over my own feet. She was still in my room, sitting on the edge of my bed.
“I know this is going to sound weird, but can I sleep in here?” My dick stirred to life at her question.
Instead of answering, I moved to my side of the bed and pulled off my shirt, throwing it onto the armchair in the corner. I stood there for a moment, bare-chested, trying to process what was happening.
After everything that had happened, maybe she didn’t want to be alone. It made sense. Perfect sense.
Except it didn’t, because there were a dozen other places in my house where she could have slept. The couch in the living room. The chair. Hell, even the floor of her own room would have been more appropriate than this.
I ran a hand through my hair, fingers catching on a few tangles.
When I finally turned, she was watching me. Her eyes traveled down to my chest before she looked away.
“You can’t sleep in my bed. I barely know you, and you’re a demon.” Although it was the truth, I still felt like an asshole.
She sighed as she stood and dropped the duvet onto the bed. I grabbed it and straightened it out.
“If I wasn’t a demon, would you let me?” I expected her to be upset about my comment on her being a demon. Instead, she sounded pissed. “I bet a man like you has had worse in his bed.”
She stood with her hands on her hips, giving me that look women give you when you’re in the doghouse. Shit, was she going to make me go sleep on the couch in my own house?
I put my hand on the button of my jeans but stopped because I wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “What’s that supposed to mean? You have a perfectly good bed downstairs.”
I slipped into bed with my jeans still on. The fabric bunched uncomfortably at my hips, but I didn’t adjust it. If I pretended to sleep, maybe she’d take the hint and leave.
I became hyperaware of every sound in the room. The soft rustle of fabric—was she leaving? The quiet intake of breath that seemed too loud in the silence.
I kept my breathing steady. In through the nose, out through the mouth. The kind of rhythm that suggested deep, peaceful slumber rather than the performance it actually was.
I knew it was childish. I was older than most civilizations, and here I was, playing possum in my own bed because I didn’t know how to navigate whatever this was.
The weight of her gaze pressed against my skin. I could feel it, even through my closed eyelids. My jaw tightened involuntarily before I forced it to relax. Dead weight. That’s what sleeping people were. Dead weight with slack muscles and peaceful expressions.
I tried to summon that peace and smooth out whatever tension was written across my face.
But then she spoke.
“A man and a woman can sleep in the same bed together and not have sex. I do it all the time.” The mattress bounced, and I opened my eyes to find her settling in on the other side of the bed. “I’m in a strange place, and I’m used to sharing a bed with a man. I promise not to touch you.”
I rolled onto my side and narrowed my eyes at her. “What’s so wrong with you that a man would share your bed and not try to have sex with you? Do you have tentacles going on down there?” I waved my hand around, gesturing below her waist.
A look of hurt washed over her face but was quickly replaced by anger. She sat up, grabbed a pillow, and whacked me with it.
I admit, I deserved it.
“You’re an asshole.” It wasn’t the first time I’d been called one, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
She fluffed the pillow and lay back down. Apparently, she was sleeping in my bed.
I woke to the sound of vibrating on my nightstand. It took me a minute to process that Samara was on my side of the bed, with her leg thrown over mine and her head on my chest.
I reached for my cell phone, trying not to jostle her. She made a noise but didn’t wake up.
Alex, an incubus demon and the primary contact in Inferna, had texted me back. He was in charge of Hell when Lucifer wasn’t present, which had been a lot recently.
Alex:
Valentino Sangre, northern vampire leader, is holding a fire elemental, a squirrel, a wolf, and a gargoyle in cells. They are searching the forest for Samara Luna, the princess. The vampires want the crown.
First, the demons tried to break through to Earth, and now this? Lilith wasn’t the first demon to get through. The vampires took that prize centuries ago when they stole a drop of Lucifer’s blood with a small contraption hidden in a pen.
We should have ended them then, but the other archangels balked at the idea, despite having to cover up the damage they did on Earth.
Samara moved against me and groaned. My body stiffened because it sounded a lot like the type of groan every man wants to hear.
“Yes… right there, Nico.” Was she… yes, yes, she was grinding against me. “A little more, Val.” A whimper. Another groan. “Harder, Amari.”
My eyes widened, and I didn’t know what to do. I’d never had a woman gyrating against me while sleeping before. She’d shed her pants and was clearly having some kind of orgy in her dream.
“Samara?” I cleared my throat and shook her shoulder lightly. “Wake up.”
“Yes!” Her voice was a hiss, and she rubbed against me more frantically. “Don’t stop.”
My cock was hard, and I could only imagine what was happening in her dream. Three people. She was having a sex dream with three people.
I couldn’t take it anymore without making a fool of myself, so I shoved her off me and onto her back. Heaven help me, I could see her hard nipples through her white shirt.
She mumbled, and then her eyes flew open. She was out of breath and put her hand to her chest. “Oh my.”
“Oh my, is right.” I sat up and ran my hand down my face. I knew letting her sleep in my bed was a bad idea, and I should have moved to the guest room or the couch.
I slid out of bed and went to the bathroom before she could see my erection. This whole situation had disaster written all over it. Not only because of the boundaries she clearly didn’t need or want, but because now I was going to jack off thinking about her.
I’d locked the door, but that didn’t stop my brain from imagining her coming into the bathroom.
I turned on the shower, stripped down, and stepped under the cool spray. The water cascaded over me, but it did nothing to cool the heat coursing through my veins.
My hand wrapped around my length, and immediately my mind conjured an image of Samara on her knees in front of me.
Gray and gold eyes lifted to meet mine through dark lashes, water droplets clinging to her skin.
Her lips parted as she took me into her mouth, her perfect breasts swaying with every movement.
I stroked myself harder, imagining the warmth of her mouth, the way she’d moan around me like she had when she was dreaming. The vibrations would drive me insane. She’d take me deeper, her hands gripping my thighs as I threaded my fingers through that purple hair.
In my mind, I came undone, spilling down her throat as she swallowed every drop. But my fist kept moving because my body refused to follow my imagination over the edge.
Frustration built in my chest. I leaned against the wall, letting the water beat down on my shoulders as I tried again.
This time, I imagined backing her against the shower wall, my fingers sliding between her legs, finding her wet and ready. She’d gasp my name—not the three men she’d moaned, but mine. I’d push two fingers inside her, feeling her clench around them as she rode my hand.
Her head would fall against the tile, lips parted as she panted. I’d curl my fingers, finding that spot that made her legs shake. She’d dig her nails into my shoulders, begging me for more as I pumped my fingers faster.
The image of her coming apart in my arms, her walls squeezing around my fingers as she cried out, did it for me.
I groaned as my release finally hit, spilling over my hand and the wall. My forehead pressed against the cool tile as I tried to catch my breath.
What the hell was I doing? She was a demon. I was an archangel. This couldn’t happen. This shouldn’t happen.
But my body clearly didn’t care.