“Thank you for the fur boots, by the way.”
My mortal was grateful for the fur boots and not for the Heavenly secrets I shared with her. “You earned them.”
She lifted her feet onto my thighs and curled her toes. I spread my wings and blocked the light. In the nest made of my wings, I lifted her chin. Then I kissed her.
Chapter Twelve
Michael’s golden wings surrounded me like a cocoon. He purred the way a big cat might when comforting his mate. His lips, soft and inviting, promised protection and strength, and when he opened his mouth and sought out my tongue, I gave it to him. Michael kissed gently, long lapping strokes of his tongue I countered with mine. His hand on my hip tucked under my sweater, thumb brushing my skin, the other hand woven into my hair. He released my hair from the ponytail and let it fall, though he didn’t run his fingers through it. He fisted it and pulled back. My neck exposed, he licked it and whispered, “I can feel the passion inside you.”
He spread his palm over my stomach first, then moved up just below my breast while kissing under my ear, where I was most sensitive. Liquid heat pooled in my belly; my pussy, already wet, pulsed with its own heartbeat. I squirmed in his lap.
Michael chuckled but otherwise ignored my need. Instead of reaching inside my pants and stroking my wetness, he lifted the sports bra above my breasts and removed my sweater, shirt, and bra in one swift tug. Cold air hardened my nipples, while his hand in my hair held strong, bending me more. I felt like an offering.
“Your nipples are dutiful soldiers. They stand firm and salute. Do you think I should reward them?”
“Yes, Commander.” A default response to him.
“In private, and nowhere else, you may call me Michael.” He shifted in his seat, positioning himself differently, and under my bottom, I felt his hardness. I snuck a hand into his hair and threaded my fingers through the silklike strands. Michael bent his head and licked my nipple, left one first, then the right, then blew on it. I placed my left hand on his thigh, to touch bare skin. I welcomed Michael’s warmth. His powerful thigh muscles flexed, feeling like stone. I dug my fingernails into his skin.
He hissed and sucked my left nipple again, flicking his tongue. Both hands in his hair, I encouraged him, lifting my hips. He pressed a palm flat on my belly and pushed my body back down. Disappointed, I whined. And when I thought he’d tease me and not deliver, he tucked a warm hand under my pants and underwear and cupped my mound. We locked eyes. There was something incredible about the gold color of his. It was hard to look away from, yet even harder to keep staring into. I lifted my hips again, and one long finger touched my clit.
I gasped and slid my gaze away, throwing my head back. I spread my legs wider. Michael sucked on my right breast, flicking his tongue again as I kept lifting my hips, wanting those fine, long, and strong fingers that held the massive sword to stroke me.
The sword. My thought repeated in my head, but in a man’s voice.
I snapped open my eyes and stilled.
Michael stopped. His eyes, brighter than I’d ever seen them, but also soft and sexy, narrowed. “Is there something wrong?” he asked.
My heart pounded, and another thought slipped into my head. No, continue, it said.
“No, continue.” I gave the thought a voice.
Michael smiled.
Shouting came from outside, and Michael retracted his wings, allowing the world to penetrate his shelter. He sat up and tilted his head. “I have to go.” His jaw set hard, his eyes were even harder as he put me on my feet and picked up my clothes. Dazed, knees weak as if I were caught in a spell, my head started pounding. I gripped it and asked, “Where can I get headache meds?”
“In the infirmary.” He stood. “The map of the Courts is in the recruiting office where your Guardian first brought you. Ask for one.” The windows slid open, and Michael lifted, catapulting outside like a rocket. Watching him in the sky, I realized he could fly without batting his wings.
Cold winds swept my body. Naked from the waist up, I shivered. Aiming to close the windows, I reached for one, but heat almost burned my palm, and I jerked back my hand. The windows closed on their own. I fell into Michael’s chair, an awkward and uncomfortable seat with support only for the small of my back. I dressed. The winds whipped outside as if something or someone had brought them on. The snow hit the windows, and as I stared at the dark clouds gathering above the city, the faces of all those people who’d followed us on the street swam before my eyes. Guilt for allowing the angel access to my body gripped me. If I hadn’t said anything, they’d still be alive.
I recalled what Michael had told me, which I was certain didn’t amount to a tiny fraction of his knowledge. Michael had volunteered to save us, or at least that was what he believed. His method of saving us was to change the world as we knew it, erase the old and start anew. But Lucifer was here too, so when Michael stuck that sword into the ground, not everything had gone as he’d planned.
He’d said those who remember invited Lucifer’s influence. Uneasiness churned in my belly, and my head pounded. Slowly, I stood, and my belly rose with me. I made a beeline for the bathroom, slapping a hand over my mouth. Not gonna make it. I slapped a hand on the wall and vomited right there in the room, a rush of coffee and bile. Barely holding myself up, I heaved and heaved
