Page 47 of Fallen Angels

Instead of flinching away from him, I moan. I close my eyes and relish the rough feel of his hands. I can feel the power emanating through his blood, his skin.

“You still haven’t fed,” he says, his voice deep and low. His tone is one of disappointment.

“No.”

“It has been too long since I’ve been inside a woman,” he groans in my ear. “I don’t want to endanger you and… there is the oath.”

“The oath?”

“I’m sworn to celibacy. It’s an oath I must uphold.”

My entire body quivers. I can feel the Succubus rising to the surface, wanting to slake her control over me and invite him into me. She wants him. She needs him.

“I want to respect your oath, but I… I,” I whisper, unable to finish my sentence.

Pyre responds by using his magic to force my hands above my head. His invisible power holds me against the tree, and I feel my feet leaving the ground as I hover before him. My arms are now fully elongated above me and I’m left dangling before him like prey. His fingers unclasp the belt around my waist as he drops to his knees. Seeing him on his knees, bending down before me, does something to me. This strong, immensely powerful guardian of the spirit world, protector of the Veil, kneels before me. I am a creature deemed unworthy by others and yet Pyre doesn’t regard me with the same discontent.

“I vowed long ago I would never give my body to another, but…” He looks up at me with storms in his murky eyes. They’re no longer white, but numerous shades of gray. “I never promised to deny myself ataste,” the necromancer says with a smirk.

My pants unbuckle themselves as my boots fall to the ground. My panties pull themselves down the length of my legs at the same time Pyre places my legs on his shoulders and presses a kiss on my lower belly.

Fingers spread my folds and he blows cool air against my core, watching a bead of moisture trickle from my channel. He groans.

I stare down at him. He can’t see me unless he draws on the spirits, but if he could, he would see that I’m biting my lip in anticipation. Another kiss on the inside of my thigh makes me clench.

“You must be quiet, lest we be discovered.” Pyre breathes me in and then presses a filthy, open-mouthed kiss upon my clit. Ibite down on the inside of my cheek, hard enough to draw blood, trying to smother my whimpering.

The sounds of animalistic growls, sucking, slurping, licking... it fills me with a strange need I can’t fight. I rock my hips against his mouth, riding him gently. He forces my hips against the tree with his large hands and scrapes his teeth along my flesh, causing me to cry out. One hand leaves my hip and shoves three fingers into my mouth. Lust flashes in my eyes and I moan around his fingers, sucking obnoxiously at the appendages. I shatter, hurling over the edge before I have time to catch myself, but Pyre is there.

His arms come around my waist as he lowers me to the ground softly. I stare hungrily as he yanks open his pants and pulls out his enormous cock. It’s so large, I can’t keep from staring at it. And all I can think about is what it would feel like to have it entering me, stretching all of my muscles.

He begins to stroke himself and it’s maybe another two minutes before he reaches a climax that knocks the air from his lungs. His cum leaps out of his head in a stream of ropey liquid that stains the ground below. I lean forward and sweep my tongue along his slit, causing him to shake before I stand on unstable legs.

We quickly right ourselves, and now we’re both panting.

“Thank you,” I say a little self-consciously.

The necromancer licks his lips and swipes my juices from his chin. “It won’t cure your hunger,” he says. “But, unfortunately, it’s all I can offer you. You will need to feed soon, Eilish, and you have three more than capable men to satisfy you.”

“I have one,” I answer with a smile. “And another who can’t make up his mind about me and a third who hates me.”

He gives me another odd smile reflecting that he doubts the truth in my statement. “Allow the Seductress to take control ofyou. Don’t fight her. Once you stop fighting your nature, that’s when you’ll find all your troubles dissolving.”

“I don’t understand what that means.”

He faces me in such a way that I find it difficult to believe he can’t see me. “It means, let the Succubus out. When you feel the urge, give in to it. Allow her to take control of you. Allow her to speak for you, to move your body according to her wants and needs. Stop trying to keep her bottled inside you. She’s as much you as the angel is.”

I blush feverishly and he leads me through the trees until we reach a clearing. The closer we come, the more I realize the clearing is really a meadow sprinkled with small white flowers. They almost look like snow. But, there’s no snow here. As I glance around, I realize it seems as if it’s spring now. The seasons are on fast forward in this bizarre place. It was winter for a day maybe and now its spring.

For the next several hours, Pyre attempts to show me how to draw energy from the ether, how to push back against the powerful tides of compulsion magic, how to dissolve wards and how to pull magic from light itself in order to heal someone. He tells me to capture the energy with my third eye, the eye that exists in the center of my forehead and connects me to every other living thing in the universe. He explains that we are all one and the power of eternity fills me just as much as I fill it.

He cuts his hand and I hold my hands over it, imagining a light that beams down above me, moving through my head and carrying my determination into his skin. I imagine the wound in his hand sewing itself together. I imagine the blood stopping and the pain dissipating. I imagine my light energy traveling from the center of myself and exploding into him.

At first, nothing happens. At the second or third attempts, still nothing happens. The fourth time I get a headache and the fifth time, Pyre gets a headache. The sixth time he says he feelsheat coming from my hands. The seventh time I start to get dizzy and then nauseous. The eighth time he yells at me that I’m not paying close enough attention. The ninth time I start crying and the tenth time we take a break.

“Maybe I’m just not capable of healing,” I say through tears. Pyre is a tough instructor but he’s not without empathy. He sits beside me and though he doesn’t touch me, I sense his concern all the same.

“You are capable,” he murmurs in a soft voice.

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