Fallen Angel Reclaimed: The Complete Series by Lacey Carter Andersen

10

Surcy and Tristanran until they pushed through the growth that hid the building from view. When they drew closer, they slowed and crept to the front.

The door in the front of the building was partially ajar. She and Tristan stood on either side of the door, made eye contact and he nodded. She pushed the door all the way open and launched inside.

Inside, she discovered one big room, dark except for light that streamed from a skylight in the center. On the floor, bathed in the sun’s light, Mark lay bleeding. Surrounded by angels who towered over him.

The angels’ laughter came to her, and she saw red. Angels were supposed to protect the innocent from demons. That’s what she’d been told. So far, she’d seen things that made her question who was actually good and evil. Something inside her changed in that moment. She felt it, like puzzle pieces sliding into place.

She no longer had wings. She no longer obeyed Caine.

The angels were her enemies now. There was no question. And her job? Her job was to protect the men who loved her for reasons she didn’t understand.

She entered the room like a ghost. Moving behind Frink, she sliced his head from his neck before he could react. The angels turned to her in shock. Another head went flying.

And then, the battle began in earnest.

Their soul-blades flared to life. One blade crashed against hers. Another clashed against Tristan’s.

She kicked the angel in the chest, then knocked his blade from his grip. “So, you think hurting a defenseless man is fun?”

The angel’s eyes widened, and he glanced behind him to where his blade was out of reach.

She knew he was about to teleport. Striking out, he tried to leap out of the way, but she sliced his chest. He took another step back. But she wouldn’t give him the second he needed to concentrate enough to teleport. Instead, she launched an attack.

He dove, jumped, and tried to avoid her blows. She was hell-bent on causing him pain. Not killing him. Making him suffer.

When he fell to his knees, his arms bleeding, his stomach bleeding, he looked up at her with pleading eyes. “Mercy,” he whispered.

“Did you show Mark mercy?”

His acceptance was there in his face.

She raised her sword, and sliced his head off. It hit the ground, and then, silence stretched around her. Strange and oddly tense

Turning, she saw that Tristan had killed his angel. He was watching her, his expression unreadable. Whether the other angels had died or teleported away, she didn’t know. Nor did she care. As long as they were gone.

Sending her soul-blade away, she ran to Mark.

A sob grew in her throat. His injuries were bad… bad enough that he might not survive.

Reaching out, she touched his face. His eyes flashed open, and the pain within them was heartbreaking.

“Kill me,” he whispered.

Her heart pounded in her chest. “You don’t mean that.”

“Please.”

She tore her gaze from him to Tristan. “Touch me. I’m getting us out of here.”

Tristan knelt and placed a hand on her arm, obeying. She teleported them, and forced herself to erase their path so the other angels couldn’t find them. It was harder. And by the time they appeared in her room, she was breathing hard.

“Help me get him in the shower and then you take care of Daniel.”

Tristan plucked Mark out of her arms like he was a child and brought him to the shower, laying him down. Looking back at her, she could see for a moment his fear and anguish. “Take care of him.”

“I will,” she whispered.

And then, the big man left.

Shedding her bloody clothes, she entered the shower, turning on the water. Mark hissed and thrashed, but she tried to shield him as much as she could while the water heated up. Then, carefully, she tore his clothes off and set them outside the shower.

The wounds that covered him were stomach-churning. The slices, careful and painful, covered every inch of his body.

“Fucking angels,” she hissed.

“Kill me,” he begged, his eyes squeezed shut, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“No,” she whispered, lying beside him on the massive floor of the shower, she watched as the blood washed from him, coloring the water.

He shook under her touch, but she stroked him slowly. She knew some angels were capable of healing. Of taking away pain, but she wasn’t sure how. The only thing she could do was stay with him as his body worked to knit itself back together. She prayed he would fall asleep soon. He’d heal faster if he could.

But the druid didn’t sleep. He pleaded in a soft, pained voice for her to end his life.

She held him in the water, pretending tears weren’t running down her face.

When he finally passed out, she began to sob. No one should hurt like this. No one should beg for death. Certainly not her sweet Mark.

Never him.

Even when the water grew cold, she lay with him, watching his wounds in fear. They would heal. They had to heal. Only cutting his head off would kill him. Right?

She found herself unsure as she realized that not a single wound was closing. They remained open, bleeding, more than a body should be able to endure.

Swallowing, she pressed her forehead against his, begging him to be okay. With a soft touch, she rubbed her lips against his.

Should her heart really ache this much? Should she really feel this frightened?

Am I falling in love with him?

She thought of her demons. There was still so much she didn’t understand about them. So many mysteries surrounding them. Yet, she felt something powerful for them, something that hurt for her to think about.

When she lightly kissed him again, she felt the strangest tingle pass between them. Mark shifted and groaned beneath her, not in pleasure exactly, but not in pain.

Curious, she kissed him again and again. The feeling only intensified.

When she looked down at his wounds, they’d stopped bleeding. Staring, she watched in silent wonder as they slowly began to knit back together.

Is it my kiss? Is it helping him?She wasn’t sure if it was some magic she didn’t understand, or the strength of their bond, but hours passed, and Mark’s body was no longer a sea of wounds, but scars.

When Tristan came some time later, his gaze ran over them, lying together naked.

“Is Daniel okay?”

Tristan nodded. “He’s still asleep, but his wound looks good.”

She looked down at Mark’s pale face. “Should we get him into bed?”

“That would be wise.”

Turning off the water, they did their best to dry him, then she dried herself.

Laying him down in her bed, she touched his chest. “I think I’m going to sleep in here with him.”

“He would like that.”

It took her hours to fall asleep, but when she did, she didn’t wake in the night drenched in sweat. Imagining Caine in her room, burning her mind. She awoke in the morning, a slight breeze moving the white curtains where her balcony doors stood open.

When she sat up slightly and looked at Mark, he was awake. His gaze met hers.

Tears stung the corners of her eyes. “You’re okay.”

He said nothing.

“I’m sorry. I know you were hurting. I know you wanted me to… you wanted me to—“

He reached up, his hands digging into the back of her hair, and pulled her down to him.

Their kiss was earth-shattering, a power that moved through her and him. His lips were strong, aggressive. And when his tongue dove into hers, she moaned.

This man knew how to kiss. He knew how to shatter her thoughts with his touch.

When his hand slid down her neck, trailing along the sensitive skin of her throat, and then caressed her breasts, she arched into his touch. Within seconds, his fingers brushed her nipples, and she gasped. He played with her tips as his kiss grew more intense.

With her head swimming, she pulled back. “You’re hurt.”

“Then, I guess you’ll have to be gentle,” he growled.

Her gaze met his. This was the demon. Not the gentle man or the druid, but the demon who wanted to claim what was his.

But what if she hurt him?

As if in answer, his hand moved from her breasts, sliding over her belly.

She tensed as he stroked her womanhood, and then one finger moved inside of her. He stroked her slowly, sending her nerves exploding in little bursts. When he moved into her opening, she spread her legs wider, whimpering.

Her eyes closed, and she arched against him. Her release was so close, building like something powerful.

And then she realized something, he was the one who had been through so much. Not her. She should make him feel like this. Not the other way around.

Opening her eyes, she pushed his hand away.

“Surcy?”

Pulling the sheet down, she revealed his massive erection. Swallowing, she stared and stared. She hadn’t known what to expect from the shy man. But this was not it.

“God, how do you fit that into normal pants?”

He chuckled, a low aroused sound that was completely unexpected.

Kissing his chest, she lightly brushed her lips against all of the still-healing scars.

He groaned and buried his hand in the back of her hair.

She moved slowly down until she reached his delicious cock. Unable to help herself, she trailed her fingertips against the length, glorying in how long and thick he was. Then, sliding her tongue along the sides of him, she continued her exploration, loving the sound of his panting.

When she came to his tip, she looked up, meeting his gaze, then licked him.

“Fuck, Surcy, it’s been too long. You can’t just—”

In answer, she parted her lips and took him into her hot mouth.

A string of curses left his mouth, which only turned her on more.

She took him as deep as she could, then gagged around him when his tip hit the back of his throat. Reaching down, she cupped his balls, rolling them in her hand, while she hummed around him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he groaned, one of his hands slamming against the bed.

And then, she pulled back and slid him back in, over and over again.

With a roar, he grabbed the back of her head and began to fuck her mouth. His possessive control turned her on in a way she never expected. She felt like a creature made to pleasure him, and she ached to taste him as he exploded into her mouth.

But as she felt him swelling in her mouth, her nails digging into his thighs, he suddenly pulled her back, his cock slipping out of her mouth.

“Come on, come ride my cock.”

She trembled as she climbed over him and positioned his tip at her entrance.

He pulled her down, taking one of her nipples into his mouth and sucking, while his hand plucked at her other nipple.

She moaned and sank his tip into her. Inch by inch she took him in, her tight body squeezing around him. When she reached his hilt, he released her breasts.

He held her gaze as he reached between them with one big hand and began to stroke her clit.

She gasped, her body shuddering around his big shaft, and then she started to ride him.

He thrust back, taking her deep and hard. He moved like a man hell-bent on claiming her as his own. She could feel it with each stroke.

And she felt like a woman who had given herself to a man. Who accepted his claim over her without question. Which was strangely satisfying.

She gripped his shoulders harder, riding her orgasm like a wave. Her entire body alive. Every nerve sensitive and pulsing with pleasure.

When he came with a ragged roar, she gloried in the feeling of his hot cum coating her insides. For a long minute they continued to fuck, until at last she collapsed on top of him.

His hands grabbed her ass and shoved her harder onto his erection.

She whimpered, her head still spinning in ecstasy.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his words were low and harsh.

She should’ve been scared, but she wasn’t. When she’d seen him hurt, her heart had ached in a way it never had before. She wasn’t sure if she loved him yet, but she felt connected to him. She cared about him in a deep way.

And now, they’d made love.

She smiled, closing her eyes. She wanted him to hold her forever. And with the way he clung to her, she was sure he felt the same way.

This is the first truly beautiful thing I’ve experienced since dying… that I can remember. I think I know why I gave up heaven and my wings for these demons.