Authors: Zoey Marcel
He
cupped her face in his palms. “You are my Hannah, because if you weren't and
you left me again, I would take my life. This I swear to you, darling.”
Sonya
was astounded at the confession that almost sounded like a threat. It was
difficult to think, let alone respond verbally in the wake of his
feather-light, teasing kisses on her forehead and eyelids. His lips were cold
and soft like a nocturnal flower budding in a moonlit garden.
His
cupped hands on her cheeks were like blinders keeping her focus on him. The
firm pressure he used to keep her wandering head focused straight ahead so he
could execute his will on her made her feel a bit like a horse being controlled
by its master.
“Say
it. Say you are my Hannah. I need you to save my life tonight, my soul. Don't
let me die by my own hand. Say it,” he growled. His steamy whispers had given
way to a dark command that sounded dreadfully predatory.
Jude
was likely drunk and lonely. She had no doubt he would commit suicide if she
left and he truly believed she was his wife raised from the dead to come back
to him again. It was a sweet fantasy of his, but Sonya found it incredibly
depressing the way he rejected reality and inserted his own in order to make
sense of everything. She despised deception, but more than this, she would
forever hate herself for having walked away from him when she could have saved
him.
“I'm
your Hannah,” she whispered, startled by the dark, almost spiritual seriousness
of the act. Likely only psychological; she was winning his soul, not losing
hers.
The
Arctic gust of his oral exhale bathed her lips with an icy fire that smelled of
mint and psychologically, her downfall. It was just a kiss, they weren't going
to fornicate. She would stop it, but she must get him to go to sleep and stay
with him at least for tonight, so he didn't kill himself in her absence.
Hopefully, by morning she would figure out what to do about this mess she had
made for herself and him.
A
chilly, slick instrument that felt remarkably similar to a melting icicle
traced the outline and curve of first her upper and then her lower lip.
“Kiss
me,” he whispered.
His
breathy plea excited her. Curiosity and the need to save him urged her lips to
slowly part for his. Their lips molded and rolled on one another in an erotic
merging she had no intention of letting their bodies emulate beneath the sheets
of his large bed. The tips of their tongues touched in meeting, his frozen and
hers warm. They shared the same breaths in the mere centimeters between them
and allowed their primal instincts to take the lead in that kiss. The way their
tongues tangled and came together for the intimate union was tender, passionate
and mind-blowing. So this was what a kiss felt like. Nimbus had been right. It
was hot and wet. Granted Jude's mouth felt cold and hers was warm, but the
combination created an amazing hot and cold sensation in her mouth that was to
die for.
A
sudden stab of guilt pierced her conscience like a convicting sword and
demanded she pull away from the tempter's mouth.
Jude's
hands lowered to her arms and held her near him. His breathless whisper did
wicked things to her libido. “Don't fight this. You can't. You are mine. In
your heart you have already slept with me, haven't you?”
Her
eyes dropped in shame. She had fought against her forbidden desires tonight
only enough to keep any fantasies at bay, but she couldn't fight the impact his
kiss and touch were having on her body.
“There
is nothing wrong with this, Hannah. We are married after all. Why do you
hesitate?”
“I'm
not really Hannah.”
“Then
this is a dream. Even if you have only come to me in my sleep, it is enough,
Hannah. Kiss me. Let me at least know I can have you if only in my dreams.
Otherwise what else is there to live for? God sent you to me to give me peace.”
She
had come of her own volition and against her mission, but it did seem rather
providential the way she came across him in the clutches of suicide and was bringing
him comfort in his darkest hour.
“Kiss
me, Hannah. I see God in you. Let me come to the light as you are. Let us
celebrate my salvation.” Jude didn't wait for permission. He enveloped her
mouth in a cool, spearmint kiss that soon became a fiery bath of peppermint
that washed her mouth in sexual splendor. The slow, tender kiss was binding and
erotic.
Sonya
could feel her senses throwing down their armor as her mouth moved with his in
a trusting, forbidden union that didn't seem as lethal as her conscience
claimed it was.
“Say
your body is mine,” he murmured in between kisses.
“My
body is yours.” She wouldn't sleep with him, but perhaps kissing would be
enough to bring him comfort if he thought she was Hannah and he was dreaming.
“Say
my name.”
“Jude.”
He
massaged her breasts, making her gasp at the rush of heat that swept through
her. Her nipples puckered and she felt her areolas crinkle beneath his cool
touch. His skin felt significantly warmer now. She was still clothed and he was
fondling her bosom through the fabric, not engaging in intercourse, so perhaps
she would be forgiven for a harmless kiss and brief pawing since she saved the
man's life and ultimately converted him, because he believed his wife to be
resurrected.
“Say
your soul belongs to me,” his voice grew darker now, huskier.
Sonya
gasped when his palm slid into the neckline of her dress and cupped her tit.
Tiny sparks of electricity shot off in her body, settling in her nether region.
She tried to pull his hand out, but he kept it there. Odd that she was suddenly
weaker than a man. Angels were stronger than humans, yet she couldn't overpower
him. Perhaps she didn't want to badly enough.
“Don't!”
Why did the command sound so much like a plea for mercy on her lust-inflicted
state?
His
smile seemed ambiguous as he fondled her breast in a most pleasing manner. She
couldn't tell if his lips betrayed sinister motives, or merely how aroused he
was by her awakening.
“Does
that feel good, Hannah?” He cooed softly.
It
did, but she had to get out of there. It startled her how strong he was.
Something was wrong.
His
lips left a trail of kisses along her neck and licked her back into the
misguided belief that this was right. “Say your soul is mine and I will stop.”
Sonya
gasped when he tugged the front of her dress down, exposing her breasts. “Jude,
stop!”
She
had never harmed a human being, but was fully prepared to take him down if he
continued his mind-numbing assault on her body. His death-grip curtailed her
struggles and she became frustrated that truth was somehow being thwarted. A
man shouldn't be stronger than an angel. Was she getting weaker, or was he
getting stronger? And how the blazes was that possible?
“Say
it,” Jude growled against her breast tissue before sucking her tit into his
mouth.
She
mewled with delight as her body bowed and she arched into his greedy mouth. Her
fingers splayed in his hair while he suckled her. How soft it felt. “My soul is
yours.”
It
was a creepy thing to say, but he thought she was his wife, so between spouses
it would be a romantic utterance.
He
slid the hand that wasn't around her back under her dress and skimmed her slick
folds with his fingers.
She
squealed in alarm and wanton need. “Jude, stop!”
“Say
precisely what I told you to say and this stops,” his tone reeked of danger and
aggravation.
She
whimpered helplessly when he teased her swollen clitoris. Half of her wanted
him to stop, but curiosity and lust wanted desperately to know what an orgasm
felt like. Self control won out, but it proved a double-edged sword. “My soul
is yours.”
“Say
my name, Sonya,” Jude commanded while he laved her breasts with his tongue.
The
tingly fire of pleasure only heightened when he rubbed her clit faster. God
this felt so good. She had a feeling she would finish from the stimulation. “My
soul is yours, Jude.”
As
promised, he stopped and Sonya pulled her bodice back up to cover her bosom.
She scrambled to her feet, quivering with shock and sexual awareness. It
suddenly occurred to her that he used her real name while he was touching her a
few seconds ago. It had to have been her imagination. “What did you call me a
little bit ago?”
There
was a serpent-like quality in his hushed response. “Sonya.”
A
chill of fear raced up her spine and her scalp crawled with horror. That man
could not be Jude Hemingway. “How did you know my name?”
Jude
stood and her nervousness only multiplied. “I know everything about you. Are
you afraid?”
She
shivered. She was, but why should she be when she had God on her side?
Unless... “What are you?”
He
stalked toward her, closing the protective distance between them. “Back when I
was angelic I was one of the archangels.”
She
backed away slowly. “Nimbus?”
“No,
Jude.”
She
gaped at him. “That is impossible. I would have recognized a demon presence,
even if it possessed a human body.”
“Except
I'm not entirely a demon, I'm a soul devourer.” He shoved her against the wall
when she tried to flee, “What people would call a soul vampire. Surely you have
heard of my kind?”
Sonya
swallowed. The atmosphere felt depraved and godless. He wasn't here. She
couldn't feel his presence. Had he left her when she verbally gave her soul to
... “Yes, I have heard of your breed. Is that why you wanted my soul – to feed
off of?”
“Partly,
that and no angel will come to the rescue of a fallen angel. And anyone who
willingly gives their soul to a demonic being is fallen, aren't they, Sonya?”
Raw
fear and desolation overwhelmed her. “Oh, my god, what have I done? You tricked
me.”
He
smirked at this as he ran a strand of her black hair between his fingers. “What
did you expect a diabolical entity to do?”
“What
did you do to Jude Hemingway?”
“I
smothered the drunk with a pillow. He was dead before you got here. Convenient
how my new body's previous owner was also named Jude. It will be less confusing
that way to keep the same name.”
Her
eyes watered in sorrow and fright. “You killed him?”
Jude
wrapped a hand around the base of her throat. He applied little pressure;
merely let his hand rest there to enlighten her of the magnitude of his power
over her now. “Why do you sound so surprised? You shouldn't be. Killing him was
merciful compared to what I intend to do with you.”
Whatever
his plans were, they weren't happening. Sonya kneed him in the groin and darted
out of the bedroom. He tackled her and they tumbled down the staircase
together, landing in a tangled heap at the bottom. She tried to shake the dizzy
spell off and fight Jude who was now on top of her. She punched his face and
shoved him, only to be flipped over onto her stomach.
“Is
that any way to greet an old friend, Sonya?” He sneered, using his weight to
hold her down.
Sonya
felt his hands on her left wing and heard a crunch as excruciating pain flared
in her appendage. She screamed, unable to believe he just broke one of her
wings, inhibiting her ability to fly. Tremendous fury almost as intense as the
throbbing burn of pain in her broken wing, gave her a brief renewal of
strength. She rammed her head back into his face enough to get him off of her.
She slammed him against the wall intending to finish what she started, when she
was struck in the back of the head from behind. Everything went black as she
fell to the floor.