Page 116 of Touched By Darkness

With a click of his fingers, he lights the torches on the wall, then offers me a smile that fools no one. “What brings you here, Angel?”

“Don’t play stupid with me.” I march up to him and slap his cheek. “The veil is not mended.”

“Oh.” His smile widens. “What brought you to that conclusion?”

I gnash my teeth, fisting my hands at my sides as I glare at him. “You know exactly what.”

I can’t bring myself to say it out loud; how he fucked me in my dream until I came all over his cock. Just the thought has heat burning the tips of my ears.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His smile is gone, and his gaze has turned hard. “I mended the veil when we first arrived back.”

“You fucking liar!” I tear after him when he walks down the hallway. “You visited me in my drea—”

Amenadiel whirls on me. “Has it ever fucking dawned on you that maybe you’re attracted to me, and it’s your twisted imagination?”

A bitter snort puffs from my lips. “Why won’t you just admit it?”

The truth is that I need him to, and until he does, a tiny sliver of doubt will linger at the fringes of my consciousness like an unwelcome guest who refuses to leave.

“You want me to admit creeping on you in your dreams? Tell me, little angel, what exactly do wedoin your dreams? Huh? What’s the nature of your fantasies? Do I lick your sweet cunt? Do you kneel like a good girl, eager to suck my dick? Do I fuck you? What exactly happens when I cross the veil?”

My cheeks blaze with embarrassment, but I refuse to back down as I bite out, “I am not losing my mind.”

He hums, rocking back on his heels, the picture of calm. “If you say so.”

“I woke up with scratches on my ankles and… and…”

“And what?” He leans close, his voice dropping in octaves. “Say it.”

I stare at him, my hands growing clammy with sweat the longer I stay silent. When I finally talk, my voice is merely a whisper. “Cum trickled out of me.”

His smile is back, reflecting the firelight. “Cum, you say?”

“Yes…”

He tsks. “Naughty girl.”

I go to slap him again, but he sees it coming this time and grabs my wrist.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Not unless you want to make your nightmares a reality.”

Wrenching my hand away, I pant through my nose while we stare at each other. He, with no small amount of amusement, and me, with fiery anger burning in my gaze.

“How do you explain the scratches?”

“Maybe you had an itch in your sleep?”

“An itch?” I fold my hands over my chest. “Do you seriously believe that?”

“What’s the alternative?”

My glare intensifies. “There was an open door—another portal—and a hand reached out and grabbed me.”

“A hand reached out of the portal and grabbed you?”

“Yes!” I all but shriek. “A fucking hand.”

“So, let me get this straight. I fondled you in your sleep, a hand appeared through an open door, and then you woke up with scratches on your ankles and cum seeping out of you.”

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