Page 36 of Her Fallen Angel

The sun dips low as I wait for Kai's return, my fingers drumming against the dining table I've set with precise care. Every goblet, every piece of silverware sits exactly where he prefers. Steam rises from the covered dishes, carrying the rich aroma of roasted meat through the air.

My heart skips when I hear his wings before I see him. The sound of feathers cutting through air precedes his entrance, and I straighten my spine, hands clasped before me.

"Welcome home." I keep my voice soft as he strides in, his presence filling the room like a gathering storm.

Without waiting for his command, I move behind him, reaching for the first buckle of his armor. My fingers work with practiced ease, but I let them linger longer than necessaryagainst his skin. His wings twitch at my touch when I brush against a sensitive spot near their base.

"The bath is ready," I murmur, sliding the chest piece free. Each layer reveals more of him - battle-scarred skin that I've memorized like scripture.

In the bathing chamber, steam curls around us as I help him into the water. My sleeves grow damp as I work soap across his shoulders, tracing the line of old scars. His violet eyes track my every movement.

During dinner, I pour his wine with deliberate slowness, pressing closer than proper service requires. My hip brushes his shoulder as I lean across to place fresh bread before him. Another touch - my fingers grazing his when I pass the salt.

His hand shoots out, wrapping around my throat. The pressure isn't enough to cut off air, but it's a clear warning. Instead of pulling away, I let my head fall back, offering more of my neck to his grip. My pulse races against his palm.

"You're playing with fire, little flame." His thumb traces my racing pulse.

I swallow against his hold. "Perhaps that's where I belong."

His grip on my throat tightens just enough to make my breath hitch. Those violet eyes bore into mine, searching for something I'm not sure I want him to find.

"Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that makes my skin prickle.

I can't look away from him, trapped in his predatory gaze. My voice comes out barely above a whisper. "Yes, sir."

His answering grin sends heat coursing through me - all sharp edges and dark promise. His thumb traces one last path along my throat before he releases me. "Good. That's exactly what you should be. Always wanting, always desperate for my touch."

I sway slightly when he stands, his wings casting shadows over me. Before I can steady myself, his hand cracks against my ass with enough force to make me gasp. The sting spreads like wildfire across my skin.

"Go to the room, little flame. Think of me while you're alone." He leans close, his breath hot against my ear. "Think of all the ways you want to please me."

The dismissal burns worse than the smack. I force myself to walk away with measured steps, though every fiber of my being screams to turn back, to beg for more of his attention. My skin still tingles where he touched me, phantom pressure around my throat making it hard to swallow.

In my room, I press my forehead against the cool stone wall. Prayers tangle with darker thoughts as I replay the feeling of his hand on my throat, the sting of his palm against me. I want to prove myself worthy of more than these fleeting touches. Want to show him how deep my devotion runs.

The need to please him consumes me like holy fire, burning away everything I used to be. And still, I crave more.

19

KAI’RIN

Idrag myself through the door of my townhouse, blood dripping from a deep gash across my ribs. My sparring partner - not Vhex or Mykael today - had a hidden blade I hadn't noticed until too late. Careless. Weak. My wings ache from the intense aerial maneuvers, and I resist the urge to stretch them in the confines of the entryway.

Aren appears from the kitchen, her dark hair falling in waves as she rushes forward. The sight of her concern catches me off guard, even though this isn't the first time she's tended my wounds.

"You're hurt." Her fingers brush against my armor straps. "Let me help."

I could refuse. Should refuse. But her touch sends sparks across my skin, and I find myself nodding just like I do every day. I'm constantly being patched up by a human, and for some reason, I'm allowing it.

Because I want her hands on me.

She guides me to sit in one of the chairs near the entrance, her movements precise as she unbuckles my chest plate. And I find myself wanting to tug her closer. To have more.

"The blade caught me by surprise." The admission slips out before I can stop it. Her hands still for a moment before continuing their work.

"Even the strongest warriors have moments of vulnerability." Her voice carries no judgment, only a gentle understanding that makes my chest tighten.

The armor falls away, and her fingers ghost over the wound. I inhale sharply - not from pain, but from the fire that spreads from each point of contact. When did her touch become something I craved rather than merely tolerated?

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