Dove Caught in a Burning Bush Ch. 04

"I am the Archangel of Edenara now, I can do as I please," Promethiel retorted, his forehead pressing against hers. "When you said that the incubus had licked you, I wanted to turn his carcass inside out. I don't think I've ever felt such a baleful, deep jealousy in my life. I can't help it."

"That doesn't mean you should act on it." Crucifel swallowed, her heart pounding in her chest. "You're going to become fallen like this, Promethiel. You'll become a monster if you don't control yourself."

"I'll become one if I do nothing as well," Promethiel hissed, leaning down to brush the tips of her lips with his warm ones. "Please, Crucifel. Just a single kiss is all I ask, to taste your lips once."

Crucifel hesitated, her hands clenching the front of his robes. She wanted to push him away and flee from the room, but her body was betraying her. Her blood was coursing like fire through her veins, her nipples hardening against the fabric of her garment as she grew more aroused and unsteady under his desperation.

Never had she heard him plead like that, like he was a bowstring drawn taut, about to snap. There was no hint of arrogance or tease in his voice this time, only need.

"Just one, Promethiel. One and then you never look at me with such unholy hunger again," she whispered.

Promethiel leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers hungrily. Her mouth opened of its own accord, welcoming his tongue inside as she gasped at his intensity. His arm circled her waist, the other running shaking fingers through her long, white hair.

The princess shivered as he pulled her closer, her hands fisting in his robe while their mouths moved together in a feverish dance. It felt like every touch, brush or breath was alive and burning Crucifel from the inside out. A small whimper escaped her lips, her heart racing with excitement and fear at the sinful sensations screaming through her body.

It was only seconds before they were kissing with a passion that had Crucifel's head spinning. Promethiel's tongue slipped into her mouth, the taste of him oddly sweet and herbaceous, as if he'd had tea before entering the room. The tip of that same tongue teased against the roof of her mouth, drawing out a soft gasp from her lips as he pushed her back against the headboard.

Promethiel's long bangs spilled over the side of her face as he kissed her breathless, tangling his hands into her own hair to hold her in place. His smile could be felt on Crucifel's lips when he tugged gently at the braid that she had redone, wrapping it around his fingers to tug her mouth closer to his.

Crucifel whimpered, agonizingly aware of how the stiff outline growing beneath his robes pressed against her thigh, her hands trembling with white knuckles as she kept her hold on the front of his robes.

When they finally pulled away from each other, the royal siblings panted, their chests rising and falling heavily as they sucked in air through reddened, swollen lips. They stared at each other for a moment as their breathing slowly evened out, hot exhalations puffing across their parted mouths.

"You're beautiful," Promethiel rasped, cupping her cheek. "How was that? Did I disappoint you?"

"I shouldn't answer that," Crucifel shuddered, still feeling like she was being scalded in an entirely too pleasant way. "I can't."

"Good," Promethiel purred, his face flushed as his lips twitched up into a half-grin. "That means I did well."

Crucifel swallowed, her hands clutching in the front of his robes giving him a small, insistent shake. "One kiss, Promethiel. I gave you one kiss, now we have to stop."

"We don't have to stop," Promethiel replied, his cheeks blushing darker as he leaned inviting forward again. "If you would just let me, I would have you coming undone beneath me, feeling every sweet little thing I did with you and inside of you."

A shudder rocked through Crucifel, her pulse twinging between her legs in an uncontrollably lustful rhythm. She had never felt such a horrifying amount of desire before, not just desire but pure, fleshly lust. Her body was crying out for more, so much more.

But she couldn't.

"Promethiel," she said softly, her voice trembling. "I love you, but only as your sister. Please, don't force yourself on me."

Promethiel closed his eyes, his fingers digging into her shoulders. "Crucifel, please."

"Promethiel!"

He released her with a growl, stalking across the room and slamming the door behind him. Crucifel sank down onto the bed, her face burning as she brushed her lips with the back of her hand. Her mind was racing, her heart beating frantically. She should have never let him kiss her, not like that. It was wrong in so many ways, not just because they were siblings.

Promethiel was a murderer, no matter how well he hid it.

He killed their parents for the throne, and she was the sole keeper of that knowledge beside himself. If the archangel wanted, he could simply tear her into shreds as he had the incubus. And yet, despite all that, Crucifel couldn't bring herself to hate him. Not completely, anyway. He hadn't become fallen yet, so he couldn't be completely wicked, even as he lusted after her.

Crucifel pushed herself off the bed, walking over to the central massive stained glass window that let in the majority of light through Promethiel's bedchamber. The panes glowed dimly in shades similar to the mural on his ceiling, casting her in shades of soft gold as she stared out at the clouds for a long while, watching as they drifted lazily and morphed on the evening breeze.

She couldn't stay with Promethiel once night fell, it would be far too awkward to simply bed down and pretend nothing had happened, that she couldn't still taste jasmine on her tongue or feel the tingle in her scalp where he'd clutched at her hair.

An entirely unholy feeling swept through her, hot tension that gathered in her depths and coiled there as Crucifel's wings shuddered behind her.

Her fingers twitched as she pressed her hands together in a silent prayer to a Creator she had only ever heard of in story, begging for the immoral heat to leave her loins. She should have rebuffed Promethiel just as she had every other time, not let him kiss her in anything but chasteness to sate his lust.

It had done no such thing, only made him burn ever hotter, as if the act had ignited him from the inside out.

No, not just him.

It was wrong, all of it. The kissing, the touching, the desire that came with it that threatened both of their hearts and souls. She had duties and obligations that could not be jeopardized by this, and if she gave into Promethiel's temptations, she would be betraying more than just their parents' memory. This evening should never have happened.

Gathering her robes around her, Crucifel stepped closer to the door and pressed her ear to it, making sure that Promethiel was not outside.

Once she was sure he wasn't, she slipped from his bedchamber and avoided the eyes of the four guards who fell into step behind her silently as she made her way to the palace's library. She had no idea how much they had heard, but the door was thick and she could only hope they'd assumed an argument had broken out between them.

It was too late in the day to do more than read by candlelight, but she could busy herself with research until she fell asleep. But anything would be a welcome distraction, so long as it helped ease the fire that Promethiel had spilled into her veins.

The palace felt oddly still as Crucifel moved through the halls, like the walls were holding their breath and aware of the tension in her heart despite the practiced elegance in her steps. She did no more than nod or smile softly to those she passed, fearful of seeing a look of accusation or recognition of her ruffled state. But there was nothing, the princess only received smiles in return or a brief well wish on her the rest of her evening.

When she reached the library, she paused, listening to the sound of footsteps step behind her. The large double doors were engraved in more of the eyes her family loved so much, staring back at her as they accented the royal crest that had been placed upon them.

Crucifel used her wings to push open the heavy wooden doors before her guards could, swinging them wide enough to allow two to enter with her to stand in front of the entryway while the second pair remained outside.

The library was quiet and dimly lit, the shelves that lined the were full of countless books and scrolls. It was a familiar, welcome sight that eased some of the ache in her chest and...other places. If there was one thing that could soothe the soul, it was the dry, leathery smell of old books. This late in the day, the librarian would be gone, so she would have this all to herself.

Steeling herself, the prophetess sought out a very specific tome that she felt the need to brush up on; a demonic bestiary. Promethiel had been there to help her, but she could not always rely on him like that every time.

Not when she doubted his own motives.

Finding it was easy enough and once she had it in hand it was a matter of finding a place to sit and flipping through pages until Crucifel finally stopped at the section detailing incubi, succubi and comcubi.

She was met with an inked image depicting a horned figure with leathery wings, the face hidden by shadows with only the faintest glint of gleaming fangs and lightness eyes visible.

Crucifel felt herself shuddering at the realization that the incubus in her room at some point must have bitten her while she was sleeping to introduce its paralytic venom into her blood. These particular types of demons were usually considered cowardly scavengers, relying on infernal venom to feed but scattering like roaches when they were faced with an unrestrained, physical fight.

Otherwise, they were infuriating and sadistic beings who fed on sexual pleasure, willing or not. All while they were at the advantage.

She turned the page, studying the next illustration with a small grimace.

It was a detailed drawing of a succubus, showing the process of stretching back skin around the face to jut their protrusible jaws forward into biting position. The many, needle-like teeth were described as hollow like a venomous snake's. Those fangs were coated with a special type of saliva that was secreted to act as a local anaesthetic when pressure was applied to them, allowing the demon to inject their venom into a sleeping victim.

Once it was inside, feeding became easy as the victim temporarily lost control of their limbs and felt an increase in sexual arousal. Even worse, as it spread through the system, the demon would be able to use their magic to puppeteer the body if it so needed, contorting and positioning it as desired if the prey wasn't strong enough to fight back against it. Sometimes the demon would feed until death, other times they would take just enough life force for a single meal and move on. It all depended on the demon hunting.

Crucifel closed her eyes and the book, exhaling slowly. Perhaps she should just...lay her head down for a bit instead. Or else find lighter material to read while it was dark, saving this for once the sun had risen once more.

"Your Highness, his Majesty has had a room in the guest wing prepared for you."

The prophetess turned her attention to the guard that approached her, she was one of the two that had been stationed outside of the library door.

"Thank you," Crucifel said, smiling at her. "I'll be along shortly, there are just a few more books I need to gather for research."

She didn't know if this was his way of trying to apologize, but Crucifel intended to busy herself too much to worry about Promethiel right now.

Tonight was for sharpening her claws.