Her Avenging Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 7) (17 page)

He lowered one hand to her hip and drew it up to him, and she gasped, her eyes flying wide when he plunged back into her and she felt every inch of him as he filled her, far deeper than before, leaving no part of her untouched.

She dug her claws into his backside and he chuckled against her lips as she drove him into her, unable to stop herself from satisfying her deep need to feel him taking her and making love with her.

His lips played across hers and over her cheek and she lifted her eyelids and stared at the column of his throat. Her mouth watered. Her fangs itched.

The hunger for release collided with a hunger for his blood, swirling together into one fierce need that would not be denied.

Her fangs dropped and she kissed her way down his throat, her body heating to a thousand degrees as she felt his pulse kicking beneath her lips. He moaned as she suckled a point above his vein and pumped harder, each powerful commanding thrust driving her into the sand.

“Nevar,” she moaned, more a plea for permission than an outburst of pleasure.

He rocked harder, the deep plunge of his steel hard length into her ripping a different sort of moan from her throat as sparks shot through her and her belly tightened. The primitive voice within her told her to drive him harder and push him to keep thrusting like that until she fell apart and the bliss of release took her.

She clutched his backside, her mouth working furiously against his throat, losing herself for a moment in the hunger to feel him joining with her, giving her the pleasure she craved from him.

Her other hunger rose again, fighting and gaining ground once more, until she came close to sinking her fangs into his flesh and drinking her fill of him. She held herself back with her fangs poised to strike, part of her lucid and aware that he would be angry with her if she bit him without permission.

“Do it.” Those two words, spoken in such a dark and hungry voice, one made of pure black magic, made her shiver from head to toe. He lowered his mouth to her neck and whispered into her ear. “I want it… bite me, Lysia… God only knows I will go fucking insane if you don’t. Just thinking about it has me so hard that it hurts. Do it… feed from me.”

She sank her fangs into his throat and he moaned and shuddered against her, ramming his cock deep into her body. He grunted with her first pull on his blood and she cried out against his neck as it flowed down her throat, his strength instantly washing through her. She clutched his head with one hand and drank deeply, each mouthful only making her hunger for more of his intoxicating taste. He moaned and mouthed her neck, kissing and devouring her with blunt teeth, and it was on the tip of her tongue to beg him to bite her too, but she silenced that need.

It would push him too far.

He grasped her hip, his claws digging into her flesh, and pumped faster, each long stroke hitting her as deep as he could go and his pelvis slamming against her sensitive flesh. She couldn’t take much more. Her belly felt so tight she thought she might explode.

She moaned and pulled down another mouthful of his blood. It combined with the pleasure ricocheting through her, heightening it until she felt she was floating high above the world, up in the stars.

Nevar growled against her throat and gave another powerful thrust, and the entire universe exploded, every star in the sky detonating in a colourful burst. Tingly heat blazed through her, making her thighs tremble against him, and she convulsed in his arms, releasing her grip on his neck as she cried out her bliss.

He swooped on her mouth and kissed her hard, his tongue lapping at the blood on her fangs and thrilling her as she gave herself over to him, surrendering completely. He thrust harder, his actions turning rougher, and grunted with each powerful meeting of their bodies. She clenched him inside her, the last ripples of her pleasure making her quiver around him, and he jerked to a halt and growled as he shot hot pulses of his seed inside her, his length throbbing and sending aftershocks of bliss through her.

When his climax subsided, he slowly sank down against her, pinning her to the sand, and his kiss gentled.

Lysia let everything wash over her, piecing herself back together as she kissed him and savoured the feel of him inside her. It had been far more powerful than she had imagined it would be, leaving her changed forever and awakening a hunger within her that she felt sure would never die, an eternal need to have this beautiful warrior at her side.

He rolled onto his back, bringing her with him, his soft feathered black wings folding around her at the same time. They tickled her bare flesh but she liked the feel of them wrapped around her, shielding and protecting her from the world.

She liked the feel of him beneath her, their bodies still joined, and the way he looked at her as she pushed herself up, breaking their kiss.

There was tenderness in his gaze that she had never seen before, feelings that she had seen in the eyes of the other men when they looked at their women. He was looking at her with that same deep affection and she knew his eyes were a mirror of hers. They both felt something, and they both feared it.

He for reasons unknown to her.

She because part of her heart felt that there would be no happy ending for them as the others shared. She tried to shut out that poisonous voice but it refuse to be quiet, playing on repeat in her mind and threatening to ruin the moment.

He lazily brushed her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear, and slid his hand around the nape of her neck and chased away the voice in her heart.

He kissed her and she moaned when she felt him growing hard within her, rousing her own passion as she thought about losing herself in him all over again.

With his blood flowing through her and restoring her strength, and the way he looked at her with hunger flaring in his jade eyes, she felt more confident.

This time, she wanted to be in control.

He would surrender to her.

N
evar woke alone in the small hut and unleashed a string of the foulest curses available in the demonic tongue, all of them directed at himself, a berating he deserved for what he had done.

Kissing Lysia had been bad enough, but taking her virginity cast him right down there with the Devil in the despicable and evil stakes.

He should have stopped before, when she had been kissing him and he’d had a passing glimmer of suspicion. It had easily fled him, driven out by the need he had felt for her, a powerful urge to lose himself in her and just forget the world and their positions in it. He had wanted to devour her and all that was good in her, everything that was pure and beautiful, and somehow take it into him. He had needed her with an urgency and desperation he had never felt before, not even when he had been in the deepest throes of his addiction to Euphoria.

He cursed himself again for good measure when he thought about that time in his life and the horrendous things he had done. He raised his black clawed hands above him and stared at them. Hands that had groped countless nameless demon bitches and had killed them after they had given him his high and his release.

Hands he had dared to lay on beautiful Lysia.

These tainted hands didn’t belong anywhere near her and he should have been aware of that last night. He should have stopped himself from kissing her, let alone what had come afterwards. He hadn’t only placed his filthy hands on her, but he had been all too eager to get inside her and spoil her that way too. He hadn’t only taken her virginity from her, something that he didn’t deserve, but he had fouled her with his touch and his cock.

He growled and covered his eyes with his hands, digging the heels in deep as he pressed his claws into his scalp.

What had he done?

He had been so drugged by the thought of being with her, by the taste of her sweet kiss, that he hadn’t been thinking clearly but he no longer had that problem or that excuse. Hindsight was a bitch.

He couldn’t deny that he wanted her, craved her with an intensity that startled him at times and made him feel weak, aching for her smile or an innocent touch, or that his feelings for her had changed, growing stronger.

He couldn’t even really get himself to regret what he had done, because it had been incredible and he had found the purest source of an addictive new high, and the name of his drug was Lysia.

But he could admit that it had been wrong of him on more levels than he could count and that he wasn’t sure how to face her or what to say when he saw her.

He placed his hand over the mark on his bare chest and focused on it.

A trickle of fear ran through him.

He was on his feet and out of the door of the hut in a heartbeat, his gaze scouring the island for her as he called a pair of loose black cargo shorts and covered himself. The second the blazing sun touched him, he hissed and recoiled back into the shade of the towering palms. His eyes watered from the brief assault and he rubbed them, waiting for them to stop stinging while he cursed the sun.

Lysia’s voice drifted across the hot white sand to him and he frowned as he listened to her stumbling along in English interspersed with her own language. Her fear stemmed not from the reappearance of angels as he had expected, but from her attempting to communicate with someone in their language.

He gave his eyes one last rub and then looked for her, finding her standing a short distance away near the blackened fire pit with Erin.

Nevar gaped at the sight of her.

She had cut away the lower half of her silver halter-top, turning it into a sort of bikini top and revealing her midriff, and had cut her black jeans into a small pair of shorts that made him want to growl in appreciation of her long toned legs while snarling at any male who was in the vicinity.

Thankfully, there was only Erin and Dante, and the boy wasn’t old enough to care about any woman other than his mother.

Erin waved a pair of scissors around in one hand and cradled Dante in her other arm. “Now you’re equipped for island life.”

Lysia nodded and then looked at Dante, a flicker of fear in her eyes. She frowned, opened and closed her mouth a few times, and her gaze darted to Erin.

“Baby,” Erin offered. “Bay-bee.”

Lysia took a deep breath. “Bay-bee.”

Erin nodded.

Lysia drew a few more deep breaths and Nevar found himself fixated on her breasts and struggling to get his eyes off them. She caught his attention by speaking again.

“Your bay-bee is bee-you-tee-f.”

Erin grinned and bounced Dante in her arm. The little boy frowned, yawned and opened his eyes, squinting up at Lysia.

“He has his daddy’s good looks,” Erin said.

Lysia bent over and offered her finger to the infant, and her hazel eyes shot wide when he took it, curling tiny fingers around it and holding it. He drew it down to him and pulled it into his mouth. Erin laughed. Lysia looked as if she wasn’t sure what to do.

Nevar found himself relaxing as he watched her interacting with Erin and the boy. Erin pointed out more things on the island, slowly naming them so Lysia could hear the words, and Nevar was grateful to her for being so understanding and accepting of Lysia, and was glad that Lysia felt more comfortable around her now.

If there was anyone on this island capable of protecting Lysia against any foe, it was Erin. Lysia would need her in the fight that he felt sure lay ahead of them.

He leaned against the hut and folded his arms across his bare chest, lurking in the shadows and able to watch Erin without feeling guilt or remorse when she was unaware of him. No matter what happened or how long he went without seeing her, he still felt a pull to protect her, and today he was feeling strong enough to admit to himself that it was because there was a part of him that desired to be the angel he had been when that duty had been his.

He wanted to go back to that life, but didn’t at the same time.

He didn’t want Heaven to tamper with his head or go back to a point when he had been unaware of the things they did to their angels. He now understood what had driven Veiron to war with both realms. He wanted what the Hell’s angel had back when they had first met—he wanted to be free and able to live his life.

How long would he have though?

His steady gaze studied Lysia as she stumbled her way through naming things on the island in English, her finger still grasped in Dante’s tiny fist.

How long would they have?

Lysander would return. The angel wouldn’t stay away. Nevar was certain of that. Heaven would send the bastard and his band of angels back down to complete their mission to take her into custody and Nevar was going to be ready for them.

He would find a way to keep Lysia safe.

She looked over at him and smiled, and it struck him hard in his chest, making his heart kick. She appeared so normal today with her wings gone, and so much more beautiful with her black hair tied in a messy twisted knot at the back of her head and her hazel eyes bright and shining with warmth.

Or perhaps it had been last night that had put that sparkle in her smile and that rosy hue on her cheeks.

He could easily fool himself into believing that it was responsible for the light glowing inside her today—a light that brought out his own smile in response and chased away the dark clouds that often filled his mind.

She was stronger today too and he knew it was because he had allowed her to feed from him. Hell, he had practically begged her, even though he had vowed to himself that she wouldn’t touch his blood. He hadn’t really been thinking last night at all. He had been feeling. That was all. Thinking had gone completely out of the window and his feelings had driven his actions, and had come close to driving him into biting her too. He knew she had wanted it, just as he had craved the feel of her fangs in his throat.

Part of him was glad that she hadn’t asked, hadn’t pleaded him in that way he couldn’t resist, when every fibre and instinct would respond by demanding he give her whatever she desired.

His fangs itched, threatening to descend if he kept on this topic, quietly imagining just how incredible it would have been if he had gone through with it and had bitten her.