The Darkest Passion

CHAPTER TWENTY

A DROP OF WATER hit Aeron’s lips, cool and tingling, before sliding over his tongue, down his throat and into his stomach, absorbing there, then entering his bloodstream and traveling to each of his organs. Moment of contact, his heart began a perfect beat, his lungs filled with more oxygen than they’d ever had and his skin reached the perfect temperature, neither too hot nor too cold.

Suddenly he could hear the birds chirping outside his window, the wind dancing past the line of trees that surrounded the fortress. Could even hear his friends in the rooms above and below his, discussing what was to be done about Scarlet, about the Hunters, and lamenting his illness.

And his nose… He breathed deeply, catching the scent of bark, dewy leaves, sweat, the lemon soap Sabin used, Paris’s aftershave and his personal favorite…wild sky. Olivia.

Olivia was here with him.

Maybe that was why Wrath was purring so contentedly.

Aeron pried his eyelids apart, and immediately regretted the action. So much light. Light from the bulbs in the ceiling, light from the bathroom. His walls, which he’d once thought were pale silver and crumbling stone, gleamed as if those stones had somehow trapped a rainbow.

“You’re alive,” Olivia said with palpable relief.

There was something different about her voice, he thought as his gaze sought her out. It was still beautiful, more so now that he could hear the subtle nuances—a low rasp, banked sensuality—but still different. She was perched at the edge of his bed, sky-blue eyes peering down at him. Her dark hair was in tangles around her, framing the delicacy of her features. The white robe he’d forced her to don however long ago still draped her, free of wrinkles and dirt.

Her skin was… His breath caught. Majestic. That was the only word to describe it. Majestic. No, not the only word. Flawless worked, too. He could have stared at her for hours, days. Forever. She was pure, white cream.

He wanted to touch her. Had to feel how soft she was. How warm she was. Had to know she was healthy and whole and she’d escaped without harm.

Escaped. The word tormented him. He remembered they’d been inside that crypt, and he’d been shot. He’d carried Nightmares into the cemetery, fallen to his knees, waiting for his friends, but he didn’t recall anything after that. He fisted the sheets. Answers first, then he could allow himself a single touch.

Single?

Concentrate. “What happened?” Odd. Olivia’s voice wasn’t the only one to have changed. His had never sounded so smooth or strong.

She offered him a shaky smile. “We thought we’d lost you. You were shot, and the bullet was laced with immortal poison, slowly killing you.”

Yes, that made sense. A bullet had never affected him like that, but this one had weakened him unbearably. “How’d I get here?”

“Paris and William came and got us.”

“No trouble?”

“With Hunters?” She shook her head, that cloud of hair dancing around her shoulders. “None. We even picked up Gilly on the way back here, but we never encountered them.”

It was only a matter of time, though. As close as they were, and with the success of their demon-possession, they would attack soon enough. “How’s Paris?”

“He’s fine, strong and taking care of himself now.”

Or he’d tricked everyone into thinking so. Paris was good at hiding his actions—or lack of action—behind humor and smiles. Most likely he was drinking ambrosia and neglecting his body’s needs.

“I’m not going to say that!” Olivia suddenly snapped.

Aeron frowned. “Say what?”

“Sorry.” Her shoulders slumped. “The voice returned, telling me to do all kinds of things to your body. I’ve named him Temptation, and I’m pretty sure he’s a demon.”

A demon? None that he knew, which could mean that someone else listed on the scrolls was hiding in town. But why torment Olivia? And with sexual thoughts, of all things?

Whatever the reason, he wouldn’t stand for it.

Punish, Wrath said.

Aeron was glad the demon had recovered, as well. And yes. He wanted to punish the ones who had hurt them. He just had to—

“Oh, no,” Olivia said with a shake of her lovely head. “I can see the thoughts spinning behind your eyes. We’ll worry about the demon later. He’s irritating, that’s all. Right now, I’m more concerned about you.”

Sweet, darling Olivia. His protector, something he’d never thought he’d need. Something he’d never expected to want. But he did want, desperately. Need, certainly. Yet he had to convince her to return to the heavens. In—how long?

He glanced at the window, the split curtains framing a waning moon. “How long did I sleep?”

“Most of the day and night. You’re still naked, if you hadn’t noticed.” A blush stained her cheeks. “Not that that’s important right now.”

Most of the day and night. Which meant morning would arrive all too soon. Which meant he had eight days to convince Olivia to return home. Eight days to save himself and Legion.

Eight days to resist her.

He wouldn’t last. A single touch wasn’t going to be enough, he admitted that now. He would want more. He would have more.

More, Wrath echoed.

Yes, more. He wasn’t going to stop himself. Not this time. Selfish of him, yes, but selfish he would be. He could have died out there. Died without warning. Without knowing what it was like to sink inside her, feeling her clench around his cock, clawing his back, gasping his name.

When he knew, he would stop wondering, stop craving. He could continue on as before. And she would have had her fun. She could go home satisfied.

Selfish? Ha! He was a giver.

“How did I heal?” he asked. Better question: would he lose steam midway? He didn’t want her leaving this bed until she reached her peak twice. At least. He owed her. Her crack about his lack of prowess still stung.

Olivia’s gaze shifted away from him. “An antidote.”

Why couldn’t she meet his eyes? “An angel antidote?”

“Yes.” She motioned to a glowing blue vial on his nightstand. “Water from the River of Life. One drop, and death is chased away.”

No wonder his senses were heightened.

“Once we run out,” she continued, “we’ll be given no more. Which is a shame. Lysander told me the Hunters have many, many more of those poisoned bullets.”

“How long will the effects last?” He would’ve expected Wrath to fume at being fed a heavenly substance. Instead, the demon purred a little louder, as if given a great gift.

In a snap, Aeron thought he understood. Legion represented hell, and Olivia heaven. The latter he’d already figured out, but the former… He realized now that Wrath missed his home. Both his homes. High Lords had once been angels, Olivia had said, before falling from the sky. Home number one. And landing in hell. Home number two, though Wrath hadn’t considered it as such until he compared it to Pandora’s box.

Heaven and hell, he thought again, unsure how he’d missed the connection before. Olivia and Legion. Two halves of a whole, just as he and Wrath were.

Speaking of… “Where’s Legion?” he asked, gazing around the room in search of her.

“William’s distracting her, but I’m not sure how long that will last.” Olivia traced a finger along his breastbone. “Your heartbeat is improving. Strong.”

His flesh heated where they connected. More.

His ears twitched as he listened to a conversation a few rooms over. Sabin and his crew had returned from the Temple of the Unspoken Ones. A lot of them were injured, but recovering. As soon as they were better, they were going to raid The Asylum and destroy the Hunters residing there.

No one was coming to check on him, then, and there was nothing for Aeron to do at the moment. Except Olivia.

“As you pointed out, I’m still naked,” he found himself saying. “Are you ready to have fun?”

First her jaw dropped. Then she closed it with a snap. Then it dropped again. Unwilling to wait for her to acclimate to his intentions—no more waiting period—Aeron reached up and cupped the base of her neck, drawing her down until she was practically on top of him. Her breath hitched, and the softness of her breasts pressed into his chest.

Yes, he would have this woman. Those breasts, too. The sweet spot hopefully moistening for him even now, definitely.

“Wh-what are you doing?” The breathy question warmed him body and soul, because there was longing in every word.

“Having you.” Finally.

He lifted his head and meshed their lips together. She didn’t resist, not even for a moment. No, she opened for him, meeting his tongue with her own. He could taste the freshness of the water she’d given him, as well as the cinnamon of her breath.

Trembling hands flattened on him, and his heart increased in speed, racing to meet them. Her skin was hot rather than warm, and burned him just right. Silky curls tickled him.

He anchored his free hand under her bottom and tugged her the rest of the way atop him. Their bodies fit together, and her legs opened automatically, cradling him perfectly. He moaned. Yes…yes…

Yes! Wrath agreed.

“No,” she rasped, and wrenched away. She even scrambled from the bed and stood to trembling legs, nearly teetering over.

Both he and the demon wanted to roar. Instead, Aeron settled his weight on his elbows and watched her. Calm. “You want me. I know you do.” Gods, he could smell her arousal just then, heady feminine musk.

“Yes, but I won’t let you rouse my passions and then leave me before I can finish.” She fisted her robe, inadvertently raising the fabric and showing a hint of those beautiful calves. Calves he would lick.

“Olivia, I—”

“No,” she said again, spinning away. Twice she tripped over her own feet as she made her way to his dresser. There, she propped her elbows on the surface and held her head in her upraised hands. “I can’t bear it.”

Was she…crying?

Aeron swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and stood. Not that. Anything but that. He was as naked as she’d promised, his erection waving proudly. “I want you. I’m not going to deny either of us again. This I swear to you, Olivia.”

“Oh, shut up!”

He blinked. Was he making no progress, then? Had his actions ruined everything? “Make me,” was all he could think to say. With a kiss. Please.

“Not you,” she murmured. “The voice. Temptation. He wants me to raise my robe and show you that I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

She wasn’t? Aeron licked his lips and approached. Nothing, not even one of the Hunters’ bombs, could have kept him away after learning that. “I’ll find out for myself.”

Olivia gasped when he placed his now-trembling hands on her hips. Her head lifted and she twisted to peer up at him. Her eyes were huge, watery, and his heart lurched in his chest.

“What—what are you doing?”

“Finding out, like I told you.” First he played with her breasts, cupping, thrumming the nipples, until she trembled. Then he dropped to his knees, his hands never leaving her delectable body, but following him down. “You wanted to have fun, so I’m giving you fun.”

“D-don’t do this if you’re going to stop midway. I’ve been through too much the past few days and I—”

“I won’t.” The scent of her arousal was stronger, a sultry night he wanted to lose himself in. “Nothing could stop me now, angel. Nothing.”

Slowly, so slowly, he lifted the hem of the robe. Not once did she protest, not even when goose bumps broke out over her legs. Her smooth, firm legs, a mix of honey and vanilla. When he revealed her bottom and saw that she wasn’t wearing any panties, his cock jerked in reaction. Beautiful. Even his wings ached from inside their slits.

Mine.

Actually, mine. He bunched the material around her waist, holding it prisoner against the dresser and leaving her lower body bare. He cupped her, spreading his fingers over those delectable cheeks. Again she gasped. Between each of his fingers, he placed a kiss.

“More?” he asked.

“Yes,” she and Wrath breathed in unison.

He kissed the underside and encountered the softest skin her Deity—his Deity now, too, for he realized he would always worship the one responsible for creating her—had probably ever created.

“Aeron,” she said on another of those wispy catches.

“Spread your legs for me.” He clutched her thighs and prodded her into action, even nudging her feet apart with his knees. His blood was like fire, his need sharpening to a razor point. “Now bend over. As far as you can.”

There was only a slight pause before she complied. For a moment, only a moment, all he could do was stare. So pretty. So sweet. So pink. So wet. For him and him alone. Even the thought of sharing with his (once again purring) demon was abhorrent. But he would. He would take this woman any way he could get her.

“Going to taste you now.” He dipped his head and sampled her fully, distantly hearing a slap of flesh upon wood.

“Aeron!”

His gaze flicked up. She’d settled her hands on the mirror in front of her and flattened her temple against the dresser. Her eyelids were squeezed shut and her breaths shallow, her teeth chewing at her lips.

“Don’t…stop,” she begged him.

He didn’t. He ran his tongue over her femininity again, lingering against her clitoris, flicking it, sucking on it. This was ambrosia. Her. Soft and pouty…his. Accepting what he did, liking it.

Though he wanted to consume her, he didn’t allow himself to rush. He’d gone that route with her before. This time, he would savor. This time, he would learn everything about this beautiful body.

“I’m going to… Aeron…”

“Good girl.” He moved his tongue faster, harder against her. Her hips arched forward and back and when he found her opening, he thrust deep inside. She screamed, shuddering with her release.

He didn’t know how much time—minutes, hours, days—passed before she calmed enough that he was able to bend down and kiss—and lick—the calves he’d so admired before rising and paying proper homage to her lower back. There were two indentations, and as he swirled his tongue around them, his hands slid up…up…and cupped her breasts the way he knew she liked. Both of her nipples were still gloriously hard, like little pearls, and he rolled them between his fingers.

More.

“I’m ready,” Olivia said between pants. “Come inside me.”

“Not yet.” She was wet, yes, but he wanted her dripping. He wanted her beyond ready. She was virgin, and he would make this as easy as possible for her.

His first time had been with a minor Greek goddess. One of the three Furies. Megaera, the “jealous one,” as she’d often been called. Her brand of loving had been violent and painful, and yet another reason he’d always avoided females who preferred a strong hand from their lovers. With Olivia, though, it wasn’t that he preferred gentle women over wild women, or wild women over gentle women. It was that he preferred Olivia.

As he stood, he traced his tongue up the ridges of her spine—there were scars where her wings should have been, and he kissed them, too, laving them with his attentions—all while yanking her robe up and over her head. Silky hair cascaded down her shoulders and back, even obscuring her breasts from the mirror’s view. He had to see those breasts, he thought, brushing that hair aside.

Through the glass, those frosted nipples came into view. He tweaked them, and she dropped her head upon his shoulder, eyes closing to half-mast. The thick length of his erection pressed between her bottom, desperate for contact, and he hissed between his teeth.

There would be no more savoring if he kept this up.

Down, down his hand went, until it reached the apex of her thighs. His fingers tunneled through the fine tuft of dark curls and into that hot, wet mound. One, two, he pushed them inside her.

They both groaned. Aeron placed a kiss at the curve of her neck, watching himself all the while. What a sight they were. His dark tattooed body behind her. Her softer, cloud-tinted one writhing in front of him. By far the most erotic sight he’d ever beheld.

No. Wait. Her arms reached back, one hand gripping his head to angle him down for a kiss, the other clasping his ass. This was the most erotic sight he’d ever beheld.

“I’m ready, I swear.”

Almost…almost… He worked a third finger inside her, stretching her, spreading that glistening moisture. And when he encountered the proof of her virginity, he paused, reveled in the sense of possessiveness flooding him—mine, all mine—and then gently broke through.

Mine. A cry from Wrath.

Mine. An insistence.

She tensed, even stilled against his mouth. “Aeron.”

He’d rather hurt her with his fingers than his cock. “Sorry. Pain. Feel good. Swear.” He sounded like a Neanderthal, but he just couldn’t form proper sentences. Olivia was his. Utterly his. His mind was stuck on that fact, and that alone.

When she relaxed, he reclaimed her mouth, playing with her tongue, feeding her kiss after needed kiss, and soon she began writhing against him again, lost to the pleasure. Soon she was dripping, as he’d craved.

Now she was ready.

Though he hated to release her, even for a moment, he did so to grip his cock. The throbbing length practically leapt into his touch, hungry for more, so much more, yet he feared spilling at first contact. Diversion. He bit down on his tongue until he tasted blood, and the boiling need was tempered. Achieved. Tenderly, he pushed Olivia back on the dresser with his free hand, chest to wood, then poised the tip of his erection at her opening.

“Still ready?”

“Now, Aeron. Do it now!”

Inch by inch, he drove it inside her, allowing her to grow accustomed to his size before giving her more. All the while she gasped and moaned and beseeched him. Wrath, too. Finally, he was in to the hilt, his eyes fogging over with the force of his need to pound and pound and never stop.

“Aeron,” she groaned, and he knew it was another plea.

He pulled out, almost all the way, before sinking back in. A curse rushed from him—she had arched her hips to meet him, and rational thought fled, something inside him breaking. A tether of some sort. A tether on his restraint.

Just like that, he lost himself. Lost control, lost who he was, lost everything but the need to fill this woman with all that he was. In and out he pounded inside her, just as he’d wanted. Determined, driven, possessed by far more than a demon.

He was gripping her hips, probably bruising her, surely crushing her bones, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was wild, feral, existing for only this moment. This woman. Just then, she was his everything. She was as much a part of him as Wrath. He couldn’t live without her. Wouldn’t live without her.

“Aeron.” She was no longer panting; she was shouting. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t you dare stop. More. More!”

In his mind, only one word echoed. Mine. Mine, mine, mine. He’d heard it a thousand times before, but then he was shouting, “Mine, mine, mine,” and the sound was filling his ears, sweeping through him, heating him another degree, branding him, destroying who he’d been, what he’d been, then building him back up, into something new and fine and right, into the man he’d always been meant to be. Her man. And that’s when mine faded and another word took its place, stronger, far more necessary. Yours. He wanted to belong to her, to be hers. To be everything she’d ever dreamed, to fulfill every wish she’d ever made.

“Aeron,” she gasped.

Yours.

He should have seen this coming, should have known what she was beginning to mean to him, but his resistance had blinded him. Now, reduced to his basest self, he was raw, vulnerable, operating on a visceral level.

She was his, and he was hers.

He kicked her legs farther apart, and she fell down a little, deeper into his thrusts. The gap from the dresser allowed him to reach around and stroke her where she needed. With a scream, she erupted, and as those lush inner walls gripped him, Aeron hurtled over the edge himself, hot seed jetting inside her.

“Aeron,” she cried.

Yours.

He collapsed on her, panting, and realized there was a flaw to his “only once” plan. Once would never be enough. Not for him, and not for his demon.

They needed more; they couldn’t possibly be satisfied until they’d taken her in every way imaginable. And they could. He could. Without fear. He’d lost control, but Wrath hadn’t attacked her. He’d lost control, but he hadn’t hurt her.

She’d been irresistible before, but now… He needed to be with her or his life would not be complete. He needed to make love to her every night and wake up to her every morning—to make love to her again. He needed to pamper her and give her the things she craved. Like fun. Like joy. Like passion.

Like him.

“Olivia,” he said, the syllables broken but still a promise from him, a promise for all the “more” she desired. Forever?

What are you doing? What are you thinking? You can’t do this. His sweat-slicked chest pressed into her back, and he forced himself to rise.

Wrath whimpered.

“Aeron,” she said. Then, “Aeron!”

No, that last shout hadn’t belonged to Olivia. He twisted, as did his angel, and they stiffened at the same time. William and a pretty blonde—Legion, he reminded himself, surprised all over again by the change in her—stood in the open doorway.

Aeron forced his wings out of hiding and wrapped them around Olivia, shielding her from view. Meanwhile, William held the humanoid demon back, but strong as he was, she was dragging him forward, her murderous gaze locked on the angel.