Page 48 of Touched By Death

Lifting the black mask above his chin, he sucks on his fingers before reaching forward again to caress my raven wings. At the sensation of his fingers sliding through my feathers, I snarl weakly. He pauses for a beat, head cocked as he listens to the feral sound.

As he bends over, the cold mask brushes my skin. “You ruined my life, little angel. You shouldn’t have come here. Hell isn’t a place for an innocent little angel like you.”

“Fuck you,” I choke out in a croaky whisper, trying to focus my gaze on him. He’s a blur through the drugs swimming in my system.

“Fuck me?” He chuckles, sliding his fingers over my slit. “You’re not in a position to make demands. As for now, you’re my toy and nothing more. See, that’s what happens when you escape Eden; you cause trouble.”

My tongue feels too big for my mouth. Too big and too dry. “Please, let me go.”

“Not until I’ve got my revenge.”

“Revenge?” I slur my words as he grips my shoulder and rolls me over onto my back. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to understand,” he says dismissively, brushing my hair away from my cheeks. My own scent lingers on his fingers. I want to hurl. “I know from watching you closely these past weeks that a certain someone will go to great lengths to get you back.”

“Your voice…” Why is my throat so dry? “I recognize it—”

“Shh.” His weight descends on my body, muscles bunching beneath the fabric of his robe as he crawls on top of me. “Tell me, little angel, has he fucked you yet?”

A sob claws its way up my throat. I place my hands on his chest to push him away, but I’m too weakened by the concoction. No matter how much I will my body to obey, it won’t.

“Please, stop,” I plead, knowing he won’t.

Securing my wrists overhead, he buries his nose in my neck, the cold plastic biting into my skin. With a sharp inhale, he breathes my scent deep into his lungs before releasing a shuddering groan. “You’re his weakness and my very own little weapon. As long as I have you in my possession, he can’t take everything from me. I have to admit”—he breathes me in again, his dick twitching inside his pants—“you smell exquisite, the tempting scent of innocence lingering like a sweet aroma.”

“Please, stop,” I beg as the candle flickers out. But he doesn’t stop. He never stops.

“He wants you.” His hot breath tickles my ear now that his mask lies discarded somewhere on the gritty floor. The stubble on his cheek prickles my cheekbone when he enters me. “And that makes me want you, too. Claim the angel who travels through doors.”

“When Daemon finds me,” I manage to choke out as I struggle against his tight grip on my wrists, the chain rattling loudly in the darkness, “he’ll tear you to shreds.”

Invading my body, over and over, he breathes heavily in my ear. I hate him. I hate him so much. My body vibrates like a live wire about to implode.

“He won’t find you, little angel. No one will.”

AMENADIEL

The candle on the desk is burning low, its soft glow flickering across the page in front of me. Beside it sits a half-empty tumbler of scotch. I can’t focus, and it’s pissing me off. Slamming the book shut, I ease back in my chair and stare mindlessly at the desk, at the tall stack of books and scattered papers. Where the fuck is she? And I don’t mean Genesis.

Where is Aurelia? I can’t find her when I enter through the tear in the veil. But then again, the girl’s mind was always a mystery. A fucking maze that seems to have swallowed her whole.

I’ve studied the information contained within the countless books on my shelves, but I can’t find anything about tears in the veil.

Maybe because only the most powerful angels can enter through them.

Fucking typical that I happen to be one of those lucky few.

Rubbing my tired eyes, I run a hand through my hair. I’m not getting any further with this tonight. Not when I’m this exhausted.

Standing from my chair, I shut the book I’ve been reading before snuffing out the candle with a wave of my hand. Magic pours from my fingers with ease, without me even thinking about it.

Silence greets me in the hallway. Without Dmitriy and that bothersome female around, the house is quiet. Too quiet.

The torches on the walls burn brighter in response to my magic as I pass, their shadows chasing mine. I ascend the large staircase to the upper floor, then take a left toward the wing where my bedroom is situated.

A flicker of light spilling out from beneath my bedroom door to chase away the night is the first sign that something is wrong. As I near, I draw to a halt, listening for any sounds that might tell me who’s paid me a nightly visit.

Irritation flares up inside me. I don’t like surprises, and there’s only one person who knows the extent of my dislike for uninvited midnight guests.

---