Michael entered and closed the window behind him. His presence filled the room, making it shrink even though the entire space was as big as my house. My former house. I had to stop doing this. There was no house. But my parents and brother… I couldn’t forget them. What if I did?
“Yes?” he asked.
“Nothing.” I couldn’t forget my parents.
“There was something. A clarity of thought. I saw it in your eyes.”
“I am very clear that I want to sleep.”
He smiled. “You forgave me.”
“I accepted life. There’s a difference.”
He pinched his lips and narrowed his eyes. “Get a good night’s sleep. You will need it.” A blanket lifted from the bed and wrapped around me. The window opened, and Michael left.
I slept.
In the morning, I felt like I had slept for a year. Groggy, I peeled open my eyelids and snuggled against the warm blanket, pulling the feather comforter over my head to shield my eyes from the light. Something hard poked my bottom. I stilled. Not just my bottom, my entire body. Hard and warm and…and… I reached for something heavy draped over my middle. I found an arm.
Warm, muscled man arm.
Oh my God. Wide-awake, I swallowed. Holy shit, Michael was spooning me. Wha…what do I do? Freak out and run, or pretend like this was a normal morning. Wait a second. The sun was up, and I meant way up, not just peeking over the horizon. I was late for training. He was late for training. Carefully, so as not to wake the sleeping lion, I tried lifting his arm from my waist. It was like lifting an elephant. I couldn’t lift an elephant.
I wiggled, trying to move up and down, and something hard twitched on my thigh. I was pretty sure I knew what part of his hard body that was, but tried not to think about it. My pussy, though, had a brain of her own. My nipples did too. They perked up, yes, like soldiers. The hand over my middle moved, fingers lifted my shirt, and Michael splayed a palm over my belly. I couldn’t breathe, yet my heart raced.
Thud thud thud.
I heard my heart in my frickin’ ears.
Michael pressed against my belly, bringing our bodies closer together, if that was even possible. And I recalled that everything was possible. I gripped his wrist, digging my fingernails into his skin. He moaned. Oh Lord and baby Jesus. That moan was the sexiest sound I’d ever heard in my life. I stopped digging in my fingernails, but left my hand on his wrist. His thumb started sweeping back and forth over my skin, his palm slowly making its way up my belly to finally settle, stroking the underside of my breast, making my panties drenched, making my breasts feel like they weighed a ton.
I said nothing. I didn’t know why I said nothing. Maybe I didn’t want to break this quiet moment, or maybe I would rather stay in bed than train, or maybe I’d rather stay in bed than face his wrath for not getting out of bed, or maybe I forgave him for yesterday. Not that he needed my forgiveness, or that he’d stop the slaughter of people because I asked him to. He called them Marked, not mortals, and this told me those weren’t even people to him. So easy to kill, not that Michael needed anything easy. He made everything seem easy, even containing Lucifer.
The bed dipped, and Michael moved my hair away from my face and neck. He nuzzled my neck, pressing my body closer yet. With the other hand, he took my breast, squeezed, and I swore my channel pulsed, opening wide in the same way doors opened for him. He kissed the underside of my ear and made me shiver, trailing those soft, plush lips over my neck. Up and down. He pinched my nipples, rolled them, molding one breast, then the other. Back and forth, he tweaked my nipples, all the while tracing my neck with his mouth. I started to ache. Yes, that was also real. An ache between my legs, sopping wet, my clit felt positively swollen. This had never happened to me before. Could someone be so aroused as to ache? Short answer, yes. Long answer? Yes, Commander.
Michael stroked my hand, massaged my biceps, and walked his claws over my arm all the way down to my wrist. He took one wrist, then the other into one hand and moved my arms above my head, where the other free hand held them. My pajama shirt started sliding off, over my head, and wrapped around my wrists, which freed his hand so he could flick my nipple. I didn’t shiver from the cold.
I lay there, quiet, aching, and perhaps a little scared. Michael was born or made—I didn’t know which—to wage wars, heal, comfort, and hold vigil over the mortals. He didn’t know what love was. I did. That scared me. But I didn’t let fear break me now. I couldn’t. In the Before, if a guy came at me like this, maybe I’d get up and walk away, take a cab to my parents’ house or even my apartment at college. Maybe I’d never call the guy again. But this was no ordinary guy, and I was not that Julia. There were no exams to pass. There was life to learn and survive.
Again, and with my wrists firmly restrained, his palm pressed my belly, and he groaned with his lips on my ear. I heard him breathing, a little heavier than before. “Good morning, Julia.”
Oh boy. The bedroom voice. Smooth, rough, titillating.
“Good morning,” I managed.
“It’s Sunday,” he said.
“Is it?” What a stupid question. Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. My brain was short-circuiting.
“Today, we rest.”
“I thought evil never rested and neither shall we. Or some such.” I attempted humor and even chuckled a bit, my nerves getting the better of me.
“You may rest assured that today, evil is
