"Sing that song again."
As he adjusted one wing beneath her and laid her down, David saw her eyes had already fallen closed. Though he knew she slept almost immediately, he hummed the Stones song, the one that spoke to him still, with its rough yearning. He used tones and vibrations to enhance his weaponry skills, a practical magic. But every mother who'd hummed a baby to sleep, or a man his lover, as he was doing now, knew music possessed magic just by being. One of the few true unifiers. Like love.
He drew a deep breath at that thought, let it out. How long had it been since he'd been needed? Meaning that he had something unique to give to one being, who might look to him specifically for it. How much longer had it been since he believed he had the ability to offer such a thing?
I won't fail you, Mina. Cradling her in his arms and wing, he traced the scars along her face as she slept, still with a frown on her face. "Even if it destroys me this time. I won't fail again."
She muttered with endearing crankiness and curled up on her side to sleep, spooning back against him, gathering his arm into her body, holding it close. It tightened his heart, which confirmed the remarkable things he was thinking. Though he imagined her reaction to them would be nothing short of horror.
He watched over her for quite a while, the wind moving his feathers as he thought it all through. Then a smile curled his mouth. Extricating himself carefully, he rose and began to work.
Ten
MINA woke to see David at the water's edge, apparently enjoying the feel of the water rushing over his bare calves. Shifting to an upright position on the sand, she noticed she had some of his feathers sticking to her salt-spray-damp skin. Twisting, she discovered her sleep had been so deep, he'd been able to create her a shallow nest in the sand and line it with an extraordinary amount of his feathers to pillow her body, though his wings appeared as thickly layered as before she'd fallen into slumber.
Bringing her attention back to him, her heart caught in her throat unexpectedly. The rising sun was behind him, his wings spread to feel the full effect of that breeze, his hair fluttering back, teasing the bare skin of his broad shoulders. Gods, he was too beautiful. Angels were a source of fear and awe to all creatures who knew about them. But here was one who'd watched over her sleep with a quiet, oddly soothing presence. Sung to her. Kneaded her cramps, set her broken finger.
An angel who'd also taken her body and let her touch him. Who wanted her to touch him, though he'd given her a mind-shattering release and taken none for himself. The hard length of him was as vividly imprinted on her mind as it had been against her buttocks before he brought them down to the soft sand.
As he turned from the water, registering that she was conscious, her gaze coursed down the fine length of his body, clothed so briefly by that short half tunic. The weapons harness only accentuated the musculature of his back, the tempting lines of his waist and thigh.
She knew about basic anatomy and physical urges. Knew that many species of humanoid males woke from sleep in a naturally aroused state. She hadn't known it could happen to females, but as she stared at him, she knew what she wanted to do. Something that made saliva gather in her mouth and that inexplicable hunger stir in her belly.
She'd seen merwomen do it to mermen in the shadowy corners of reefs where they thought they were unobserved. She'd been intrigued by it but had not understood the compulsion, until now. Until David.
When he started up the sand toward her, she shifted onto her knees, watching his powerful grace. When he reached for her hands to help her up, she moved inside his grasp to lay her palms on his thighs. Far up his thighs.
David's jaw tightened in a manner that made her want to take a bite out of him, and her fingers curled in, gathering the hem of his tunic, her thumbs scraping his inner thigh, feeling the heat of him, even as she leaned forward and tasted the salt on his skin, just below the edge of the fabric.
"Mina."
Heat flared to life in his eyes as the near-violent reaction at his groin just above her head drew her gaze. She was darkly thrilled to discover it. When she breathed on him through the fabric, he caught her wrist in one hand, her hair in the other.
He wanted. Hungered for her. For her mouth. That could be simple lust, a man drawn by any female's stimulation. She had no experience and plenty of cynicism to relegate it to that. But she saw the struggle in his gaze between what he wanted and what he thought he could or should demand from her.
"Let me," she whispered, straining against his hold.
He closed his eyes, as if it was easier to speak without seeing her on her knees, her mouth so close to his eager cock. "I can't let you do this. I don't deserve this."
"What?" she asked. "This?"
Opening her mouth, she licked him, one firm, lingering stroke from the root to the head, even though she had to do it through the cloth.
"Holy Mother," he muttered. He caught both of her wrists then. "Mina, I need you to understand. You know that you don't... You don't owe me. No matter what you feel, or don't feel for me, I'll protect you. You understand?"
She hadn't asked for his damn protection, so why on earth would he feel she was paying for it in such a misguided way? Why couldn't she just want for the sake of wanting? Maybe he was trying to provoke her to anger, to drive her back. Maybe he thought that was the honorable thing to do. But the temptation at her lips, so close, the intriguing vibration of his powerful body as he restrained himself, meant that she was going to shatter his honor without remorse.
"I didn't ask for your protection," she said, resting her chin on his legs, rubbing her cheek over his groin, brushing his cock with her lips, taking a quick nip, liking the taste. "Don't need it. I think you're afraid."
Looking up into his eyes, she saw a deep shadow, something with the power to consume him, so much like her own it almost startled her. And yet her fingers inched higher. Intrigued, she held that dark gaze, pushing against his restraint. His grip was weakening. An all-powerful angel giving way before her insistence.
"I want to do this," she said. "I want you in my mouth. I didn't think about why, David. I just saw you standing there, and I could taste you, feel you, smell you. Don't deny me."
David swallowed as she leaned against his hold, her kittenish breath teasing his cock so that it was straining like a raging pit bull, wanting to take her down and devour her.
He ordered his brain to engage in something like coherent words rather than animal noises of approval. Jesus, he was a grown man, an angel. He had control with women, knew it was especially important with an inexperienced female. But then there was this position, her serving him on her knees. It shamed him that it could tear something loose in him like this. Something that made him want to grip her hair again, drive her down on him.
Easing his hold on her wrists, he muttered another oath. Mina nuzzled up the skirt, and his cock was there, free, hard, so erect the fabric bunched between his pubic area and the upright angle of it. She had to rise higher on her knees to reach the tip, and she did now, opening her mouth to envelope the ridged head.
Oh, gods. It was life itself, pulsing in her mouth. All the heat of the world, the rush of blood.
After having David stroking inside her, it wasn't hard to figure out that the same rhythm and heat might be the key to the pleasure of it. When his hand seized her hair, far less tentative now, an animal like noise coming from his lips, she went mindless with her victory. Sliding down on him, she took him as deep as she could, gripping the base. Squeezing, she e
xplored the heavy weight of his testicles, the smooth flesh inside his hard thighs, the tender, protected skin at odds with the straining, bunched muscle.
Being here on her knees, tasting him, response gathered between her legs once more. A reaction that intensified when his hands took possession of her movements, came around to guide her in her grip upon him, showing her the way to best please him.
Gratitude wasn't causing her renewed wetness. It was that craving to be under his control again, serving his pleasure. Oh, gods, what was this? It was a compulsion spell without the spell, and her own body was roaring her capitulation. She knew so much about every dark corner of herself, it was a shock to find this whole area of intertwined light and dark unexplored.
The joining part of his testicles led to the tight crease of his buttocks, for he was deliciously clenched as he thrust harder into her mouth, stretching it. Like the cut of his knife, she gloried in the feel of it-discomfort mixed with pleasure.
She was whimpering in the back of her throat, she realized. Her eyes closed, tearing. His bare foot was next to her knee, the toes digging into the sand beneath it. Her lower back and hips were cramping, but she didn't care; she needed this first, needed to feel it.
But, suddenly, in a move too swift for her to counter or follow, he'd pulled her away and laid her down on the sand, putting himself between her legs. She had time for one swift, indrawn breath before his hands gripped her thighs, pulling them high on his hips so he could ram into her to the hilt, splitting her apart with his size and violence.
She cried out at the glory of it. He was a savage animal, his face intent, fierce, dangerous. When she reared up and bit him, he pinned her back to the ground with one hand on her throat, grasping her buttock in bruising fingers as he pumped into her, once, twice, three times. His seed flooded her, hot, scalding; she arched and moaned, shuddering with it. Not a climax, but a deep, gut-quivering sensation that went to the soul of who she was. He'd somehow found his way there, was inside her. Not breaking her apart, but taking ownership of her, from the inside out.