Page 67 of Touched By Sin
He shrugs. “Tough.”
“Get dressed,” Ronan orders, righting Daemon’s desk chair before taking a seat. “Dariana will be over shortly.”
Daemon is unapologetic about his nakedness. His dick is impressive even when it’s not hard. I can’t stop looking at it, and he smirks when he notices. Walking up to me, he cups my chin, bringing my eyes up to his. His tempting cock is right in my face, and my mouth waters as I wrap my fingers around his silky length. It soon hardens, brushing up against the happy trail below his belly button. He lets me stroke him while he pulls my bottom lip away from my teeth. But he doesn’t take it further, and when I lean in to taste him, he tightens his grip on my chin to hold me back. “Get dressed, little angel.”
With that, he walks into the adjoining bathroom.
Not fucking fair.
Just then, the bedroom door flies open, and Dariana joins us in a cloud of spicy yet feminine perfume, her heels clicking on the hard floor. She does a double take when she sees me. “Why are you soaking wet?”
Sprawled on the desk chair, Ronan says, “Alaric woke her up with a bucket of water.”
Dariana blinks, and then she blinks again. “Okay, whatever.” Hips and boobs swaying inside her minuscule dress, she saunters up to me. “I’ve got a little something for you.” In her hands is a small tub.
“What’s that?” I ask as she lowers herself down beside me on the bed.
“Turn around, so your back is to me.”
Intrigued, I follow orders.
“My parents know someone who knows someone with special abilities.”
I try to turn to look at her, but she won’t let me. “Special abilities?”
She hums, unscrewing the lid. “The humans call them witches. In our world, they’re fallen angels with unique powers. This particular angel possesses healing powers. She made this balm for you upon my request.” She pats my wing. “Open.”
I unfold them and feel her rub whatever the ointment is over the areas where I plucked my feathers. She’s gentle, touching me as if she cares. My eyes fill with tears as my chest constricts, and I blink rapidly.
“Did it hurt?” she asks in a soft tone.
“Of course it hurt,” Ronan snorts, his feet on the desk, his hands clasped on his chest. “Remember when we were kids and would randomly pull a feather from each other because it was fun? That fucking hurt. I can’t even imagine tearing off enough feathers to fill pillows for a family of five.”
Dariana is quiet behind me, smoothing the salve over my wings.
“I appreciate that you’re doing this for me,” I whisper.
“Well,” she says, “someone has to look after you.”
Alaric is gazing out the window with his broad back to us. His wings are relaxed, grazing the floor. “People are starting to notice you.”
Ronan rubs a hand over his face before digging inside his pocket for a packet of cigarettes. He bangs the bottom on his palm and places one between his lips. Every time he travels to the human world, he returns with more packets.
“Now is not the time,” he says, lighting one up. With a wave of his hand, the flame flickers out.
Alaric ignores him. “People you don’t want to notice you.”
Behind me, Dariana screws the lid back on and sighs. “Daemon’s father returns tonight, and he wants you to come along to dinner.”
“Okay?”
“You’re a real angel,” she says when I turn to face her.
“I’m aware of what I am.”
With her dark, wavy hair that frames her face and falls over her shoulders like a waterfall, she’s breathtaking. “Remember what I told you about not trusting anyone here?”
“I remember.”
