If he could stay like this and never let her go, he’d die a happy man. Yet Declan felt the weight of his cold, hard reality. It was heavy. It sucked. He was going back in.
Back to Hell.
There’d never been a question he wouldn’t accept the gauntlet thrown by Samael. How could he not? There was no other who stood half a chance of getting to the children. Cale was unacceptable. His light was too pure, his link to the Seraphim too strong. He’d be outed before he got anywhere near the children.
He’d not fed from the darkness as Declan had.
Declan felt it—Lilith’s cold, seductive power circling through his veins. It was a craving and it ate at him constantly. When Declan had first broken free from the underworld it had been bad. He’d been like a junkie jonesing for his next fix. Yet he’d struggled through, thinking that once he’d accomplished the mission, returned Azaiel to the Seraphim, it would be over. Bill would return the damaged half of his soul and all would be well.
What a joke that had been. His soul had been restored but the hunger for something more, something dark, was always with him. Turned out, he was as bad a seed as his father, Cormac. Maybe worse.
He was a warrior of the light, a Seraph, and served a higher order, but his soul was stained and perhaps beyond cleansing.
Fucking Lilith.
She’d gone after him like a bitch in heat the moment he’d arrived in Hell and pounced upon his weakness, his desire to be free. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but Declan knew in the end, there was no one to blame but himself.
He sighed and shifted once more as his thoughts turned to the woman he held. She was so small, fragile almost, and yet he knew how fierce she was. He loved that about her, the contradiction.
“Do you know how much I want you?” he whispered. “How much I regret the things that will never be?” Was it only a few nights earlier he’d envisioned a future with Ana at his side?
Fate was a bitch and for him her name was Lilith. He had to face the fact that his chances of escaping her clutches a second time were not great.
Declan smiled wryly as he cradled Ana to him. He knew she desired him. That had been plenty obvious when he’d kissed her a few nights back. Christ, but he wanted more, and yet just holding her was almost enough. The demons inside were at rest.
The sound of her breaths lulled him momentarily and he glanced at the awakening shadows that licked along the edges of the wall. Outside the moon had given way to the first rays of sunlight. Though he’d closed the shutters hours earlier, brightness still found its way in.
The loft was large and he found his gaze centered on several large canvases that were seemingly tossed into the far corner. An easel and paint supplies were scattered along the floor.
Ana was an artist. That was something he’d not known.
Declan glanced down at her and shook his head. There was much about her that remained a mystery. If only he had more time. If only she’d let him in.
He grabbed an errant strand of auburn hair that lay against her pale cheek. Slowly he twisted it around his finger and then bent low, inhaling the richness of her scent. God damn but the woman smelled like every fantasy he’d ever had. She was exquisite spice and her hair was like silken sheets of sin.
She moaned softly and he froze. There was no way he was ruining this moment. Declan knew that as soon as she woke she’d bolt. He considered using a charm to keep her lulled into sleep, but dismissed the thought just as fast.
She’d kick his ass if he ever attempted something like that.
His gaze fell to the soft swell of her cheek, the full lips, and the small chin. She moved and he could not help the groan that escaped as her butt settled deeper into his body. Her softness was pressed tight to his aching cock, and Declan tried to shift once more, but it was no use.
Jesus fucking hell. This was not good.
His a
rms tightened around her and his hand fell to her small breasts. He felt her nipples beneath the cotton. They were hard, puckered. His thumb massaged the hardened peaks with a controlled precision that belied the madness inside him.
Her softness swelled beneath his touch. She sighed and turned slightly, snuggling into the crook of his arms even more. Her long lashes swept downward but the eyes remained closed, her breaths even.
With regret he withdrew his hand. Who the hell was he kidding? Nothing good could come of this, and what was the point in torturing himself with something he’d never be able to claim?
Declan fell back against the pillow instead, taking Ana along with him so that she lay on top of his chest, her cheek turned toward his shoulder.
“But this feels so right,” he whispered.
The shadows on the wall now mingled with streams of light. They caught his gaze and mesmerized him, lulling him into a sense of peace he knew was false.
“I’ll take it,” he murmured to himself, even if it was only a taste. He closed his eyes and relaxed, content to just be with Ana.