The Darkest Passion

Any other man would have been willing to help her with that, he thought next, hands falling beside her temples and fisting the sheet. Look at William. Sex-happy William. Bastard.

Mine. The angel is mine.

Wrath? Staking a claim? Laughable.

Not yours, and certainly not mine. But oh, how he wished otherwise.

In her new clothing, she’d exposed luscious skin and dangerous curves. Both of which were sins in their own right, pure temptation no man could hope to resist. Not even him. She’d wanted a kiss and there’d been something inside him that had demanded he give it to her. For once, he hadn’t had the strength to pull away. Had only been able to press their lips together, open her teeth with his tongue, and take. Take her sweetness, take her innocence. Take everything he could from the kiss.

And holy hell, the taste of her… She tasted of grapes, sweet with just a little tart, as her tongue tentatively sought his. Her nipples were hard and every few seconds she arched upward to brush her core against his erection. In contrast, her hands slid through his cropped hair and remained soft, her kiss gentle.

She would be a tender lover, just as he’d always preferred.

He’d never understood why some of the other warriors gravitated to women who scratched and bit and even hit during this most intimate of acts. Had never wanted to do so himself before. Why bring the violence of the battlefield into the bedroom? There was no reason good enough. Not to him.

Aeron’s past lovers, the few he’d allowed himself, had expected more intensity from him than he’d been willing to give. Probably because he looked like a biker, was a confessed warrior and killer, and backed down from nothing. But he hadn’t allowed them to push him into going faster or harder.

One, he was too strong and they too weak. He could too easily break them. Two, harder and faster might have roused his demon and Aeron refused to participate in a three-way with a creature he sometimes couldn’t control. Again, he could break his partners, morphing from lover to punisher.

Except…if he were completely honest with himself, there was a desire, small though it was, to push Olivia past all boundaries, to hurtle her over the edge of her own sense of control, so much so that she would attack and plead and do anything necessary to reach her climax.

Wrath’s purring increased in volume.

What was wrong with him? What was wrong with his demon? With this much interaction, Aeron should have feared hurting Olivia more than he’d ever feared hurting another. He didn’t. He deepened the kiss, taking more than she was probably willing to give.

Yes. More.

Wrath’s voice was a whisper, but still it jarred him back into reality; he raised his head from Olivia. I’m not edging into bloodlust. You should be quiet.

More!

Even though the demon had always been silent around Legion, his baby calming it much the same way Olivia did, Wrath had never wanted to kiss her.

Why was it responding this way to Olivia, then? An angel?

We need to slow down, he replied, not knowing what else to say.

Like a petulant child denied his favorite treat, the demon whined, More heaven. Please.

More…heaven? Aeron’s eyes widened. Of course. To Wrath, Olivia must represent a place the demon would never have been welcome, making the unattainable seemingly within reach. Though, to be honest, Aeron had never before suspected that the demon wished to visit the home of the angels. Angels and demons were enemies, after all.

And maybe he was wrong, but nothing else explained the demon’s…affection for her.

“Aeron?” Her eyelids cracked open, her lashes thick and black, the perfect frame for those magnificent baby blues. Her lips were wet and red, and she licked them slowly. “Your eyes…your pupils…but you’re not angry.”

What about his pupils? “No, I’m not angry.” Why would she think so?

“You’re…aroused, yes?” Those lips curved into a wanton grin, saving him from having to reply. “So why’d you stop? Am I doing it wrong? Give me another chance, please, and I promise I’ll learn the way of it.”

He pulled back a bit more and blinked down at her. “This is your first kiss?” He’d known that. I don’t know what to do, she’d said earlier. But the truth hadn’t really hit him until now. Angels remained utterly innocent, even in this? No wonder Bianka had chosen to linger in the sky with Lysander. This was…intoxicating.

Olivia nodded. Then, surprisingly, she offered him another grin. “You couldn’t tell? You thought I was experienced?”

Not entirely, but he didn’t want to spoil her excitement. Plus, he liked her inexperience a little too much. He liked being her first, her only. Liked the possessiveness now flooding and consuming him.

A possessiveness that was wrong on so many levels. “Perhaps we should—”

“Do it again,” she rushed out. “I agree.”

Innocence and eagerness, wrapped in such a pretty package. Oh, yes. Intoxicating. “Not what I was going to say. Perhaps we should stop.” Before he introduced her to far more than a kiss.

Before he introduced himself—and Wrath—to heaven. A heaven they might never want to leave.

“Only this time,” she added, as if he hadn’t spoken, “I’ll be on top. I’ve always wanted to try that. Well, since I met you.”

She was stronger than she appeared and managed to shove him to his back, cool cotton pressing into his bare skin. Without awaiting permission, she straddled his waist. Her skirt was so short it rode up her thighs and gave him a forbidden peek at her panties. They were blue this time, like her shirt, and tiny. So very tiny.

His mouth watered and he found his hands on her knees, pushing them farther apart and rubbing her against his erection before he could stop himself. Sweet heaven. Damn, damn, damn. Heaven. He shouldn’t be doing this.

More.

Moaning, she tilted her head back, and the silky length of her hair tickled his stomach. Her breasts arched forward, her nipples still hard and visible through her shirt. Clearly, she wasn’t wearing a bra.

That did not delight him.

Her gaze met his, burning him to his soul. “I wasn’t kidding when I told you I needed a distraction. Legion’s attack reminded me of what the other demons did to me. And I want to forget, Aeron. I need to forget.”

“What did they do to you?” he found himself asking, even though he’d once told himself he didn’t care to know.

Some of the passion-haze left her, dulling those pretty irises, and she shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. I want to kiss.”

She leaned down, but he turned his head away. “Tell me.” Finding out was suddenly more important than finding pleasure.

“No.” Her lips dipped into a pout.

“Talk.” He would learn the truth and he would avenge her. Simple as that.

Wrath snarled in agreement.

A growl escaped the angel, surprising them both. “Who would have thought a man would rather converse than do…other things.”

His teeth ground together. Stubborn woman. “Even if we kiss, I will not fu—sleep with you,” he said. Lysander’s warning chose that moment to echo in his head. Do not soil her. I will bury you and all those you love.

He stiffened. How could he have forgotten such a threat?

“I didn’t ask you to sleep with me, now did I?” How prim and proper she sounded. “Like I said, I just wanted another kiss.”

Maybe that was true. Maybe it wasn’t. Yes, her voice claimed it was, but he refused to believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. Not that he would ever admit such a thing aloud. If he were to sleep with her as she so clearly craved, she would expect more. Women always expected more, whether he pleased them or not. And more he couldn’t give her. Not just because of her powerful mentor.