Deep Redemption (Hades Hangmen 4)

Rider took his free hand and brought it to my finger on his lips. Ducking his gaze, I gasped when I felt him kiss my finger, gently . . . a light, butterfly kiss.

Heat flooded my cheeks, my inexperience infusing my veins with nerves. But I could not take my eyes from Rider’s mouth on my finger. I was mesmerized. Warmth filled my every muscle. Rider pulled back his mouth, only to use his grip on my hand to pull me closer, my chest moving to hover over his.

My heart beat a loud drumming rhythm. I felt Rider’s heart beating just as loudly and quickly below mine. Rider licked along his lips, tracing the outline of my own with his finger.

“Have . . . ” he began, his voice low and raspy. He cleared his throat. “Have you ever been kissed before, Harmony?”

Finding my lost voice, I answered, “No. Curseds are never kissed. Our taste and touch is thought to taint a pure soul. To corrupt a saint into a sinner. To capture a heavenly soul for the devil to collect.”

Rider’s eyebrows drew together. “I am a sinner, Harmony. If your kiss damns pure hearts, then it is too late to affect mine.”

Rider’s mouth moved toward me and I let him take the lead. I had no idea what I was doing, but I wanted to try. In that moment I wanted it more than anything else. Rider was the first man to ever make me want anything remotely close to affection . . .

Then Rider’s lips were pressing against mine, soft and gentle, flesh against flesh. I waited for him to show me what to do. When his lips began moving ever so slightly against mine, I followed his lead, Rider’s taste bursting on my tongue. I moaned breathlessly as his hand slipped through my hair and grasped the back of my head. Our lips pressed harder against one another’s. Rider’s touch consumed me. He consumed me. The fallen destined prophet, touching me with a gentleness that made me weak.

Rider’s mouth broke from mine, and we both fought for breath. Rider tipped his forehead to mine and closed his eyes. I brushed his freshly washed hair from his face, and a smile pulled on his lips. “You cleansed me?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied, a new, foreign lightness engulfing my heavy heart.

“You . . . cared for me?” His voice held an echo of disbelief.

“Yes,” I replied and felt him relax. “Lie down,” I said and, drawing back, guided his large body toward the stone floor.

“The guards,” he said, trying to resist. “They will return. You can’t be here. You’ll be punished.”

“It is okay,” I said. His face molded into a confused frown. A confession was on the tip of my tongue, but I held back from expressing it when I saw his eyes drop with tiredness. Instead, I said, “Brother Stephen and Sister Ruth will warn us before they come back.”

My answer seemed to appease him. Rider didn’t release my hand as he lay down. I joined him on the floor. Rider wrapped me in his strong arm, my head falling onto his hard chest. It felt so strange to lie in such a way. But I allowed it. I felt myself wanting it more than anything.

In this cell, with the true prophet of our faith, I was home. I knew there was no other place I would rather be. The strangest of circumstances.

I glanced down at Rider’s arm, at the inked markings on his skin. My finger traced the demonic pictures. “Rider? Why do you wear such haunting images on your skin? Who put them there?”

Rider’s body stiffened. “There are things you don’t know about me, Harmony. Bad things . . . sinful things that I have done. Places I’ve been.”

A shiver of fear and unease crept down my spine. Raising my head, I stared at Rider’s conflicted face. I too had a past that I could not, and did not want to, divulge. But there was one question I had that would change my feelings for Rider, or not. “Have you . . . did you ever awaken a child, Rider?”

The resounding shock was clear on Rider’s face. “Never. I . . . ” He ducked his head, as though embarrassed, and added, “I am pure, Harmony. I have never lain with anyone. I have barely been touched by a woman.” His stunning features hardened. “And I would never take a child. It is immoral and wrong. No God I could ever believe in would condone such a thing.”

A weight I did not even know I was carrying was freed from my shoulders. Spurred on by his confession, I shifted my torso up until my mouth hovered above Rider’s lips. I was taken aback by the admiration I saw reflected in his eyes. I knew I would remember that look for eternity. “You are good,” I whispered. “You may have sinned in your past, but you are redeeming yourself now.”

Rider shook his head. His mouth opened to argue, so I stopped the words from flowing with another kiss. Rider tensed beneath me, but it was not long before he relaxed and his lips moved softly against mine. When I withdrew, the affection in Rider’s eyes warmed me like nothing ever had before. “I . . . I like kissing,” I confessed, and I was rewarded with a smile—a true, genuine smile.