I,” she said cheerfully, turning her gaze to the water.
A minute later Metatron shot up. “Bloody fucking hell!” he sputtered. And then he looked around, at the Fallen who surrounded him, at the people waiting on the shoreline, at me, and then at Azazel. He flexed his shoulder, the scar showing the line that had almost cleaved him in half, and then he grinned. “I like your burials at sea,” he said.
I LAY SPRAWLED ON TOP of Azazel, sweaty, happy, replete, his hands still stroking my back. My eyes were closed as I took in the taste and the smell of him, the wonder of having him. There was nothing else I needed.
“Yes,” he said.
“Did I ever tell you that your one-word sentences annoy me?” I said sleepily, kissing his neck.
“Yes,” he said again.
I bit him lightly. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, Rachel.”
I laughed. “You know what I meant. You said
“You know what I meant,” he said in a grouchy voice. “You need to let me sleep, woman. I’ve beaten the greatest warrior who has ever lived, with only a little unfair help, and I’ve pleasured you almost as much as you’ve pleasured me. I need to rest.”
I froze. “What unfair help did you have?” I said uneasily. I probably should have just ignored it.
“The wind,” he said calmly. “It was extremely kind of providence to provide it at just that moment, or I would be dead.”
“Providence,” I said happily.
“We’ll call it that for now,” he said. “My lovely, delectably wanton demon.”
“That’s really not a term of affection. You hate demons,” I pointed out.
“But you’re not a real demon. Just a little tiny bit,” he murmured.
I kissed his mouth. “I’m not a demon.”
“If you say so,” he murmured sleepily.
“You still didn’t tell me what you were saying
“Yes,” he said again.
I slid down on him, resting my head against his shoulder. “You’re annoying me again. Yes, what?”
“Yes, you need one more thing. Yes, you already have it.”
I bit him, harder this time. “You can’t say it?”
“Yes, I love you,” he said.
And for the first time in my endless existence, I burst into tears.
Just discovered Kristina Douglas?
Turn the page for a taste of
the first sexy novel in her Fallen series:
RAZIEL
Available now from Pocket Books
And look for Book 3 in the Fallen series,
featuring the angel Michael, the Warrior
Coming from Pocket Books in Spring 2012
IN THE BEGINNING
I AM RAZIEL, ONE OF THE TWENTY fallen angels spoken of by Enoch in the old books. I live in the hidden world of Sheol, with the other Fallen, where no one knows of our existence, and we have lived that way since the fall, millennia ago. I should have known there would be trouble on the horizon. I could feel it in my blood, and there is nothing more powerful than blood. I had taught myself to ignore those feelings, just as I had taught myself to ignore everything that conspired to betray me. Had I listened, things might have been different.
I rose that day, in the beginning, stretching out my wings to the feeble light of early morning. A storm was coming; I felt it throbbing in my veins, in my bones. For now the healing ocean was calm, the tide coming in, and the mist was thick and warm, an enveloping embrace, but the violence of nature hung heavy in the air.
Nature? Or Uriel?
I had slept outside again. Fallen asleep in one of the wooden chairs, nursing a Jack Daniel’s, one of the many pleasures of this last century or so. Too many Jacks, if truth be told. I hadn’t wanted this morning to come, but then, I was not a fan of mornings. Just one more day in exile, with no hope of … what? Escape? Return? I could never return. I had seen too much, done too much.
I was bound here, as were the others. For years, so many years that they’d ceased to exist, lost in the mists of time, I had lived alone on this earth under a curse that would never be lifted.
Existence had been easier when I’d had a mate. But I’d lost too many over the years, and the pain, the love, were simply part of our curse. As long as I kept aloof, I could deprive Uriel of that one bit of torture. Celibacy was a small price to pay.
I’d discovered that the longer I went without sex, the easier it was to endure, and occasional physical matings had sufficed. Until a few days ago, when the need for a female had suddenly come roaring back, first in my rebellious dreams, then in my waking hours. Nothing I did could dispel the feeling—a hot, blistering need that couldn’t be filled.
At least the women around me were all bonded. My hunger wasn’t so strong that it crossed those lines—I could look at the wives, both plain and beautiful, and feel nothing. I needed someone who existed in dreams only.
As long as she stayed there, I could concentrate on other things.
