Page 41 of Fallen Angels

The little brownie approaches him, and I turn my head. I don’t want to see Revenant, think about Revenant or even acknowledge that he’s here. Instead, I climb into my cot and try to banish the thoughts of Thoradin’s death—a task which isn’t difficult to do because images of Thoradin are quickly replaced with images of Eilish—naked, underneath me, then images of her naked and underneath Revenant.

Fuck.

Darkness descends on the room. I don’t recall there being lights in the room, as there are no ceilings, but this sudden darkness is a surprise, all the same. I listen to the sounds of my companions as they return from the bathing room and pull the covers back from their cots before crawling into them. Eilish’s cot stands empty beside me. I roll over as she emerges from the bathing room. Her fragrance hangs thick in the air as her warm, damp body slithers into bed.

I hear myself and the others release a collective groan. My eyes close and I imagine her pressing that supple body against me, kissing her way down my abdomen, and stroking my cock until it’s raging hard.

My pulse jumps as I picture her full lips wrapping around my plump head and sucking lightly. I can practically feel her tongue swirling around the crown, collecting my essence before swallowing me down the back of her throat. It takes all of my control not to grind against the mattress and find that sweet friction.

***

BARON

The Veil

“What’s the plan?” I ask the following morning.

My wound is nearly healed, and my body feels as if it’s slowly returning to normal. I’m not certain if it’s this place, but being here, in the Veil, has an effect on me—a good one. I feel my strength returning and I’m not restricted by encumbrances that limit me in other realms.

I don’t want to return to the palace, as I’ve said. Of course, I also recognize I’m the exception to this way of thinking rather than the rule. I couldn’t give a shit about my companions, with the exception of Eilish. And as I see it, I have a choice to make—either stay and attempt to dissuade everyone from returning to the palace or leave and never see Eilish again.

I already know I’m not ready for option two.

Whatever this need I have for the woman, I know it’s short lived. But, short-lived or not, it exists, and I won’t ignore it.

I want her.

I want to fuck her, and I want to drink her because both elate me to the point that I forget my dismal existence. And until I grow bored of one or both, I will remain with her.

Flumph smacks his lips beside me as he gobbles down lumps of porridge as well as ham, eggs, and toast. The sound grates against my nerves, but I wait for the others to answer as I continue watching the rest of them scoff their breakfast.

My own alluring breakfast sits at the table making small talk, all the while appearing extremely healthy and ripe with her rosebud lips and her flushed cheeks. She passes a flirtatious glance my way more than once and I give her an expression that tells her in no uncertain terms what I plan to do with her.

I’m not certain what I look forward to more—forcing my dick into her or sucking from that plump vein in her neck.

The brownie carries a plate of sweet rolls to the table and Pyre leans over to pick them up for her. The brownie dangles from the plate and then drops lightly onto the table. The two of them are an odd pair—Pyre is enormous and certainly intimidating and the brownie is a foot tall at best and appears to be as mindless as the sprite.

I’ve caught Pyre watching Eilish and I can see the lust in his sightless gaze. Of course, he possesses the gift of the Veil which means the gift of sight comes to him through his senses, rather than his eyes. He’s very aware of just how delicious Eilish is and I can see he wishes to sample her. I don’t blame him.

“We now know of the servant’s entrance to the kitchen, owing to you,” Cambion says, pulling back my attention. “I’d say that’s our best hope of sneaking inside unnoticed.”

Dragan says, “Someone can watch the rotations and one of us should assume the mantle of a servant.”

“I volunteer,” Eilish says. “I doubt any of you would be believable as a scullery maid,” she adds with a laugh.

“Your faces are too well known,” Pyre agrees with her.

“Then Eilish can disguise herself as a servant,” Dragan says. “Once she’s inside, she can dissolve the wards on the other entrances, so we can sneak inside.”

“How will I do that?” she asks.

“I will teach you,” Pyre answers.

I judge this a good time to intervene. “Why are we so convinced rescuing the Midnight Queen is such a good idea?”

The lot of them turn to face me as if my fangs have dropped out and I’ve grown rabbit ears atop my head. I shrug, feeling the need to explain. “What has she done for any of us? Other than desert us when we needed her most?”

“Desert us?” Dragan repeats.

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