Jegudiel (Deadly Virtues 2)

A crack seemed to furrow in her chest, as though his affection and obsession for her were beginning an excavation to see what he could uncover beneath. She swallowed against his searching eyes but held on tighter around his neck.

Diel threw open the door to the manor and carried her to the main staircase. Uriel and Bara were sitting on sofas nearby. “Pink witch,” Bara greeted, green eyes lit with humor, but Diel didn’t stop to acknowledge his brothers; he just held her, climbing higher and higher until they entered a room. No, “room” wasn’t the correct word to use. He lived in a suite, a large apartment.

It was huge.

Noa slid from his body as the door closed. Her eyes widened as she drank in the vastness and opulence of the suite. Diel moved to the wide hearth and lit a fire with the wood piled at the side. The room had a large bed, a walk-in closet, a kitchen area and a bathroom. But what appealed to Noa most was the wide bay window. The Coven had spent years trapped in the Circle, starved of sunlight but for a slither of a window from which they watched the Witch Finders train; her life with the Brethren had been swathed in darkness in more ways than one.

Noa closed her eyes and relished the hint of light that managed to break through her eyelids. She adored the light. Maybe it was because parts of her were darkness incarnate.

She didn’t know. Didn’t dwell on it too much.

Arms slid around her waist from behind. Noa opened her eyes and sighed. This was a new feeling too. One she’d never thought she would experience in a million years. She glanced down to Diel’s entwined hands on her waist. Scarred and callused hands. Killing hands. Murderous hands. Hands just like hers.

“Come on,” Diel said, his voice rough in her ear. With an arm around her shoulders, he led her to the bathroom. To Noa, it seemed almost as big as the entire system of tunnels the Coven had been living in for the past few years.

Diel turned on the shower, then turned back to Noa. There was no hesitation in the way he walked, or the way he took what he wanted. Now the monster and man were spliced, she saw only confidence in him. Together, they knew exactly who they were. What they wanted. When he peeled her clothes from her body, she knew that, in this moment, that was her.

Noa stood naked before him. She pulled the braid from her hair, and the crinkled waves fell to her waist. The sticky air from the hot shower clung to her skin like drizzling rain. Diel dropped his jeans to the floor, the heavy material pooling on the hard tiles at his feet.

Noa didn’t do nervous. But the way he looked at her … a sensation like a million icicles being dragged down her spine built within her under the way his heavy gaze watched her, as if he owned her. She stepped forward, one, two feet, and froze before him. Possessiveness flooded her, sweeping the icicles away. Because something inside of her told her she owned him too.

As if he could read her mind, Diel smirked.

Noa ducked under the hot shower. She tipped her head back, then gasped, bracing her feet on the slick tiles to stop herself falling over, when Diel swiped his tongue along her pussy.

Noa immediately looked down, placing her hand on Diel’s head for balance. He was kneeling before her, lapping at her clit. Noa’s legs felt like they would fail her as they shook from the pleasure he was delivering.

“Diel …” Noa cried out as an orgasm crashed into her, a tidal wave of such ecstasy she wasn’t sure she could withstand it. Her legs became numb, and if it wasn’t for Diel getting to his feet and lifting her against the wall, plunging inside her, she would have collapsed onto the tiles.

She fought for breath, her mind caught in a lazy summer’s haze as Diel plowed into her, his breath a tropical heatwave against her skin. It was blinding brightness; it was being laid out in the meadow under a scorching sun, the scent of flowers perfuming the air. She didn’t scrape at his back, she didn’t claw or rake his skin—she held him close, and he kissed her neck as she let the euphoria lap at her like the sea kissed the shore.

Diel tensed, then exhaled a deep sigh into her neck, his wet, muscled body jerking. The shower sounded like a rainstorm, the steam wrapping around them like a heated blanket.

Diel lifted his head, and the moment was suspended as their gazes clashed. Gone was the furied and unrelenting need to be joined, and in its place was an aura of contentment, comfort. Noa swallowed at the odd feeling. A surge of panic bolted through her. But Diel didn’t seem to see or worry about the panic she knew she must be displaying. Instead, he pressed his mouth to hers, slow and measured. Her body softened against his as he kissed her and kissed her, gently, softly, so, so softly.