Archangel's Storm

45

The estate Jason took her to was a vast sprawl of greenery broken up by wild bursts of color, the house of gray stone set within a multitude of gardens that had been allowed to run wild, the caretakers having far too much to do to wrangle the plants.

“Oh!” Delighted, she touched her fingers to a dew-kissed amber rose flowering defiantly without regard to season. “This is wonderful!” Already, she could begin to imagine their new life here. “Oh, Jason, the house is perfect.” No massive palace or mansion, just a dual-storied building meant to be a home, the stones warm in the lazy late-afternoon sunshine.

The caretakers’ residence, created of the same lovely stone, sat at a right angle to the house. “I must see everything!”

Jason didn’t smile, not so anyone could’ve seen it, but she felt his joy in the way he followed quiet and unhurried at her back while she explored the gardens. As yet, she didn’t know what she would do with her freedom—though she had a few ideas, excitement bubbling in her veins at the endless possibilities.

Turning to Jason, she admitted a secret. “I always loved the horses Neha kept.”

While angels could not comfortably ride horses, they could and did admire the beautiful, strong animals, and kept them not only for the vampires under their command, but as pets and to use in races run against the stables kept by other immortals. Mahiya had studied the subject for many years, because while Neha had taken away the mare she’d called her own, the one thing the archangel had not begrudged her was learning.

“Maybe, once I’m settled, I could set up some stables.” She’d start small, become a student again. “When I know more, I could try breeding them, but until then, I could offer to care for the horses of those vampires and angels who have no place for their pets in nearby cities.” Immortals could be leery about trusting their horseflesh to mortals, as unfair as that might be. “Do you know of anyone else who offers the same?”

“No.”

“Good.” Being a custodian of animals would not be considered an exalted position by those of her kind, but what need had she of such a thing? No, she wanted only to live a life full of joy. She squeezed Jason’s arm. “It’ll be a glorious start to an eternity I can’t wait to live.” With this man who made her heart beat and the future seem a dazzling promise.

Taking her hand, Jason tugged her around the corner to the back of the house, across the relatively tame herb garden . . . and to the stables beyond. Stables that had been cleaned and repaired until they were ready and waiting for use. Tears burned in her eyes. I shall have to work very hard to surprise you, spymaster.

You surprise me every day.

She somehow knew it was her love that surprised him, that he did not expect it, could not quite understand it. Swallowing her tears, she brought up their clasped hands and rubbed her cheek against the back of his. Will you stay?

Yes.

Though the caretakers, both six-hundred-year-old vampires, were reserved in their joy, their delight at having the house become a home was clear. Jason watched as Mahiya won their loyalty with her quiet warmth and openness of heart, and he knew the dangerous pair—trained in high-level offensive and defensive skills—would watch over her when he had to be away. For a spymaster could not always stay in one place, and he wondered if Mahiya would understand that.

That, however, was a question for another day. Tonight, he dined with a princess who seemed to see no lack in him and who understood the words he didn’t, couldn’t, speak. Having already given the caretakers the night off, he and Mahiya played in the kitchen like children . . . until he kissed the nape of this woman who looked at him with love so bright, he could almost believe it wouldn’t end in pain. She shivered, her body melting into his.

Knowing Mahiya wouldn’t be comfortable outside the closed doors of their bedroom—and it was their bedroom; she’d made that clear by quietly moving his small bag from another suite—he kissed her again before leading her up the stairs and inside. The caretakers had pulled the curtains before they left, but the stars burned through the skylight.

Shutting the doors behind himself, he stayed in place. Will you?

Her skin flushed and she ducked her head, before walking to the vanity and slipping off the bangles of jade green glass leavened with gold he’d bought for her from the same shop where she’d purchased several sets of new clothing, having come to New York with nothing but what she wore. He’d forgotten to pick up her bag from the temple where she’d dropped it, he’d been so desperate to get to her, make sure she was safe.

Bangles clinking onto the vanity, she removed the simple gold hoops in her ears. A slow, deep breath as she shifted away from the mirror, her back to him, and reached up to undo the buttons at the top of her wings that held up a simple tunic of pure black embellished with green and silver embroidery along the mandarin collar. As he watched with a quiet possessiveness that built until it was a primal hunger within, she pushed off the tunic, even as she reached back to undo her hair to create a tumbling curtain of ebony.

Her legs were sleek and graceful when she pulled off the narrow tapered pants of a rich, deep green. Rising to her full height, she gathered her hair over her left shoulder in a move that sent a tide of color over her skin . . . and he saw she’d taken off her last fragile piece of clothing when she removed her pants, the evocative beauty of her wings her only protection.

Breathing jagged and body rigid, he closed the distance between them to run one hand down the centerline of her back and around her hip to splay on her navel. When she whispered his name, he lavished a kiss over the rapid beat in her throat. Thank you, princess.

Picking her up in his arms to her soft gasp, he carried her to the bed and laid her on her back, her wings spread in magnificent display. Her eyes slid away, hot red dusting her cheekbones, but though she fisted her hands in the sheets, she didn’t attempt to cover herself. And when he began to undo the buttons of his shirt, those eyes returned to watch him with an anticipation that was a caress across his senses.

By the time he covered her body with his own, the need inside him was a craving that pulsed in every inch of his skin. Nudging her thighs apart, he settled between the silken limbs that slid around to lock at his back, a sweet, hot prison he had no desire to escape. He felt her slickness on his cock as she arched toward him, grit his teeth against the urge to surge into her. No matter how much he wanted to seal the bond between them in this new place with an act intimate and honest, he would not hurt her. Mahiya?

I’m ready. She opened to his kiss without hesitation. Come inside me, Jason. I miss you.

Shuddering with hunger so deep it was painful, he took her at her word and began the slow, exquisite slide into her body. Her spine arched, her pleasure a living current that burned sensation over every inch of him, her hands gripping his arms, her legs keeping him captive.

Oh!

He buried himself to the hilt inside her as her passionate cry reverberated through his bones, his mouth demanding on her own. She gave him everything he asked for, and she made her own demands in turn—subtle, feminine demands a man had to pay careful attention to hear, to sense, and that gave Jason a violent pleasure to fulfill.

Stroking his hand down the curves of her body, he cupped the back of one sleek thigh and rocked against her, pulling out a bare inch before pushing back in. She broke the kiss to suck in a breath, her head twisting on the pillow as her body undulated in perfect rhythm with his own, as if they had always been meant to be lovers.

When he fisted his fingers in her hair and retook her mouth, her hands slid over his nape to close over the sensitive arches of his wings in a caress that made him groan, her tongue dueling with his own. He pulled out a fraction more, rocked in harder, her breasts rubbing against his chest in sweet temptation.

Breaking the kiss, he rose up on an elbow and cupped one of the sensitive mounds. You are beyond lovely.

“I happen to think I’m not the pretty one in this bed, wild lover-mine.” Husky, breathless words.

He held her cat-bright gaze, rubbed her nipple, once more tasted those lips that shaped such sweet words. Words that entangled, marked him, claimed him. Jason allowed the entangling, the marking, the claiming. For the first time in his life since he’d buried his mother and destroyed what remained of his father, he allowed himself to belong to someone.

Then he loved her.

“I can’t create light,” Jason said to Mahiya sometime later as he lay on his back with her spread possessively over him, his hand on her lower back. “Only black fire.”

Frowning, Mahiya pushed up on the muscled silk of his chest to look at him. “Of course you can—you lit up the tunnels.”

A long, steady look.

Her mouth fell open. “Me? That was me?”

“You’re very strong, Mahiya Geet, and that strength will only grow. You must work on learning every aspect of your power.”

Astonished and pleased, she sat up cross-legged beside him, her hair covering her breasts. “Will you help me?” It was so easy to ask him—she knew he’d never seek to hurt or humiliate her.

“Yes,” he said, placing his hand on her lower back again, strong and hot. “And when I’m not here, I will ask the others in the Seven to come by as often as they can, so your development does not suffer. Raphael, too, is apt to take it upon himself to check on your progress.”

That, she hadn’t expected, but then, Raphael and Jason had a relationship unlike any she’d seen Neha have with her courtiers and advisors. “I suppose I shall have to become used to having the most powerful of visitors.” Butterflies in her stomach, born of happiness not worry.

“After I’ve had time to settle in,” she said, “and Dmitri has returned with his wife, we should invite our friends for dinner.” She rather thought she would like to do such things, would like to have their home filled with the laughter of friends who were family. “Elena will enjoy the gardens.”

Jason moved his hand to play with strands of her hair, his knuckles brushing the tip of her breast with each pass. “We’ll have to have two such dinners,” he murmured, continuing with the lazy caresses that made indolent pleasure curl through her veins. “They can’t all be out of the city at the same time.”

“I knew that,” she said with a laugh, because they both knew she hadn’t considered it. “There’s so much I have to learn and explore, Jason.” Excitement bubbled like champagne in her blood.

Coming up over her as she dropped back onto the bed, Jason pushed the sheet gently to her waist, his fingers making a swirling design on her hipbone that rippled a shiver over her frame. “If you ever decide,” he said quietly, “that you wish to explore other—”

She pressed her fingers to his lips, held that storm-dark gaze. “I may have been stuck in the fort, but I wasn’t cut off from the world. Thousands of vampires and angels of all ages and levels of power passed through it in the years of my existence. Not one spoke to my heart.” Moving her hand, she cupped his face. “I know the man with whom I want to grow, want to explore the world. You. Only you.” She would have no misunderstanding on that point. “And I plan to seduce you so thoroughly, you will become my devoted slave.”

Jason’s lips curved in the most subtle of smiles, and it was a kick to her heart, a treasure beyond price. Who is to say I am not already your slave, princess? Tender amusement in her mind. After all, here I lie, my body ravaged by your passion.

Laughing softly in delight at the fact that her spymaster was teasing her in return, she reached up to trace the swirling black of a tattoo that spoke of lands of white sand and blue seas, palm fronds waving in a balmy breeze while seagulls fought overhead and jewel-bright fish darted in the shallows. “Will you tell me the story of this one day?” she asked in the intimate murmur between lovers as he settled himself between her thighs once more, his weight braced on his forearms.

“It was to remind me I was alive,” he said, the words stark. “I felt so little a part of the world at times that I wasn’t certain I wasn’t a shadow in truth, a phantom who made no impact, had no place. The pain, and the indelible mark of that pain, told me I lived, that I was a person.”

Angry sadness twisted within her, but rather than darkness, she gave him a smile. “Well,” she said, rubbing her foot over his calf, “next time you want to feel alive, come home and drag me into a bedroom.” She nuzzled at his throat, her skin flushing. I can’t believe I just said that. Truly, I am becoming shameless where you are concerned. It is most disturbing.

Bending his head, his hair sliding around his face as his body slid into her own, Jason said, I won’t tell, his quiet laughter more precious to her than a million faceted gemstones.