Fallen Angel Ch. 01-04

His eyes blazed into hers, his hand coming down and caressing her cheek with a tenderness that moved her. Something inside her melted, softened, and bloomed.

He, on the other hand, looked shattered, devastated, as if he hadn't expected so much ecstasy.

He closed his eyes with a whimper, then shook his head. "No-no-no! I can't! I mustn't feel this!"

His hand rubbed over his heart, as if it ached, then he closed it into a tight fist, punching the wall behind the metal headboard. With an angry snarl, he clenched his teeth, showing gleaming sharp fangs.

His eyes closed and he took a deep breath.

He began to utter words in another language, the angelic tongue of the Dominatio. She understood him perfectly and shivered in fear at his words. "I am the dark prince, the light of mourning. Cursed is he who walks in light, for I shall bring about eternal darkness. Blood and despair are my gifts to those of this realm. I give back what was given to me...a dark loveless life!"

He suddenly pulled free from her mouth and slipped down to plunge into her. She screamed in distress at the cleaving pain.

"Aw—does it hurt, Master Guardian? Does it really hurt?" He screamed the last words in a fit of rage.

She felt his fangs pierce her throat, his growls and snarls of pleasure making him seem more like a beast than a man. She willed her trembling body to relax, accept the punishing thrusts. The pain of his possession melted away to a dark pleasure that had her spreading her thighs wider and meeting his driving strokes. Molten desire threatened to consume her with every slap of his hips against her pelvis. He rocked against her with a force that made her pert breasts bounce. With his wings fanning behind him, she was able to wrap her legs around his trim waist. Her sharp cries of discomfort smoothed out to low moans of gratification as she tugged the ties holding her wrists above her head. She longed to touch him, stroke that silky flesh and tangle her fingers in his blond mane.

"Oh, yes," she moaned in ecstasy. "Please, Davariel. Untie me. Let me touch you too. I want...."

He kissed her and she tasted her blood on his tongue. Heaven help her! She wasn't supposed to enjoy this, but she was; enjoying every single delicious inch of it! She kissed him back with equal fervor, making him moan. Her legs tightened around him as she struggled to grind herself harder against his vigorous thrusts. The music of their coupling seemed to rise above the roar of the wind; the soft sighs, the moans. Again, he groaned in gratification, sliding his face into her neck, inhaling her sweet essence.

"You smell of...love," he sighed in bliss.

Davariel's head rose up enough to look into her eyes.

"Luciel, my...." he stopped and bit his lip. He looked tormented, agonized, then snapped upright with a soul-shattering scream that reverberated throughout the castle. His fingers raked across his chest, scoring his flesh. Black blood streamed down his torso...demon's blood.

She cried, wanting to beg him to stop. Why was he hurting himself?

The absurdity of her thoughts struck her. She was supposed to kill him...like now! Why in hell's name was she obsessing about him clawing himself like a mad man?

The image of everything around her rippled like a reflection in a pool of water, shimmering away to nothingness, until once again, she found herself power bound to the altar in the cavern. She was still face down, surrounded by four snarling demons as Davariel blinked emotionless eyes at her. He was still crouched in the same position. Luciel stared in shock and terror at him.

"It was all in your mind, Luci. You're still a virgin," he continued in that soft, sweet, serene tone of his. "Your little plan of seduction at getting me to ruin you for the sacrifice didn't work. This, on the other hand, is very real."

Davariel stood, raising the whip. Aside from the amused laughter of the four demons, she heard the leather strap as it whistled through the air just before landing like a fiery brand on her back.

Chapter Three

Luciel stirred. Her back felt as if it were on fire. At least she was lying on a soft comfortable bed, though she had no idea where.

The son-of-a-bitch whipped her into unconsciousness.

Lifting her head, she made out a small room, illuminated by the weak light filtering in through its single window. The walls looked as if they had once been white. Now they were a dingy cream color, unadorned except by the wooden moldings surrounding the door and window in the sparsely furnished room. The bed she laid upon was wide, with a frayed patchwork quilt and metal headboard, tarnished with age. Beneath the window was an old wooden trunk with a broken lock and on the wall to her left was a little stone fireplace, cold and unlit.

Wincing with pain, she rose from the bed, noticing an antique, framed mirror in the corner at the foot of the bed. She was still naked, with nothing but her long black hair to cover her. She could see red welts criss-crossing her back; Davariel's mark upon her flesh. The rigid wooden planks chilled the soles of her feet as she made her way to the dusty window.

There was a forest of tall blue pines, and a sparkling stream close to the cottage. Beyond that, she could see the sun peeping beneath a blanket of thick, dark clouds as it slipped behind snow-capped mountains. Soft mists danced like lonely ghosts along the ground, lending an aura of gloom. The tall trees swayed as the wind moaned and cried like a wounded animal. No other sound permeated the seemingly lifeless forest.

This was not Megdoluc. She'd seen visuals of the demon planet on her holographic image reproducer.

Where in Hades had the blond demon transported her to now?

A soft touch in her hair had her spinning back in alarm. Davariel stood behind her, his expression unreadable. Again, he was naked, adorned with nothing more than his tucked wings, loose hair that reached to his ass, and monstrous erection pointed at her like a molecular vaporizing canon.

Geez! Does that thing ever go down?

She felt bewildered she hadn't sensed his approach. How the hell does he do that?

He reached out and took a strand of her hair, feeling its texture between his fingers. "Are you hungry?"

She clapped her hands over her mouth just as she was about to moan at the sound of his voice. Her lack of control was really beginning to annoy her. "I'd rather starve than accept anything from you," she shot back, slapping his hand away.

He cocked his head to the side, a gesture he did often. "Silly girl, before dying of starvation you'll be sacrificed."

"Why, Davariel? What will you get out of destroying the universe?"

He shrugged, letting his hungry eyes travel over her.

"What happened to your black wings," she demanded, trying to ignore the way her body tingled at his covetous perusal of her.

"I cut the damned things off. They gave me these." The red wings opened up a bit as he wiggled them with a satisfied smile.

"The black ones were more beautiful," she said, making him frown.

"The black ones marked me as a slave to what I was...a celibate holy warrior. I didn't want to be celibate." His voice dripped with distaste

"Beings were in awe of you."

"They're still in awe of me," he retorted, eyes narrowing, as he tipped his pert nose up.

"No. They're terrified of you."

"Then that's even better."

Taking her hand as if they were the best of friends, he pulled her toward the door. She resisted. Big mistake.

Luciel had to bite her tongue to keep from crying out. Her back felt like pure agony. All she could do was close her eyes and try to breathe and relax until the pain subsided.

She felt Davariel release her hand, then stiffened when she felt his lips on her back, and almost bolted from him, pain be damned.

He gripped her arms, holding her still. "Shhh. It's all right, my love."

His petal-soft lips caressed her back in a series of tender little kisses, magically erasing the throbbing discomfort. Then shocked her when he pulled her up against the solid wall of his chest, his erection resting against the swell of her ass. As he caressed her breasts, his lean hips moved, rubbing against her. Davariel kissed her neck, nipped and licked, making her shudder.

"I'm sorry I had to hurt you." His voice was a dulcet caress against her ear.

He's sorry?

He was making her melt again. "You're only going to do worse later. Sacrifice, remember?" Good, Lord! Was that pathetic, pouty little feminine voice hers? And why couldn't she stop wiggling her upturned ass against him. She didn't care. He felt wonderful, smelled even better, like sea breeze, or fresh mountain air after rainfall, crisp, clean.

"I want to keep you...for myself. Maybe I can find another sacrifice," he murmured against her neck. "Your scent, Luci." He slid his nose along the side of her neck, giving her goose bumps. "It makes me feel strange emotions," he sighed as one arm came around her, holding her tightly against him. He continued to rub himself against her. His other hand came up to grasp a handful of her hair, rubbing his face against it like a cat. "So soft. It spills through my fingers like water. I like you." He sounded surprised.

"I like you too." She reached behind and grabbed his firm ass. Oh-yum! Luciel squeezed, marveling at the baby-soft skin over tight muscle; so perfect for swatting. She bit her lips.

His laugh was a warm whisper against her neck, full of delight, giving her chills. "Such an eager, untouched little virgin."

Untouched? She looked down at his hands cupping her pert breasts, hanging on for dear life. "I'm not so untouched." She tried to sound knowledgeable.

Once more, the amused chuckle tickled her ear. "Your hands don't count, my love."

For a moment she felt heat suffuse her face. Did he know? Could he know he was the star of all her wet dreams? She gave him a teasing smile over her shoulder. "So if you're going to keep me, then touch me. Take me, Davariel." She felt his cock leap against her ass and pushed back harder against him.

He tangled his long fingers in her mane, pulling her head to give him access to her mouth. After giving her a devouring kiss, which was her final undoing, he said in a husky tone, "So eager to bathe my cock with the blood of your innocence. Why should I appease you? You've been a naughty girl."

Had his fingers not been threaded through her hair and his other arm clamped around her waist, she would have fallen to her knees; her legs were shaking so bad. "Not," she protested with a pout! "How have I been naughty?"

"You wanted to run me through with your blade when I gave you the option of running you through with mine." He ground himself against her, letting her know which blade he meant. "And I even said pretty please." He clicked his tongue and shook his head, lifting one golden brow.

Luciel was growing weary of the word games. She needed action. She was about to blow a solar deflector here. "But I'm sorry now," she whined, still squirming against him.

"Convince me." His fingers pinched her nipples, making her arch her breasts into his hands. "Tell me what you would have me do to you. Share your naughty thoughts about me, pretty girl."

"I...I always dream about us..." she couldn't bring herself to say making love. What they did in those dreams had little to do with love and plenty to do with lust. She felt her face flush.

"Elaborate," he drawled.

Good Lord! She gulped.

"You always . . ." she took a shuddering breath and continued, "come to me, lick me till I just want to die of rapture and then you just . . ." she closed her eyes and swallowed, "fuck me...hard." Her heart was racing, the throbbing between her legs keeping time. "I always wake up when I come because I scream your name." Davariel had grown still behind her. She could feel each gulp of breath he took every time his chest expanded behind her shoulder blades. "My hand is always between my legs. I...I guess I masturbate in my sleep dreaming of you." She felt him shudder behind her, his face pressing into the crown of her head. She shifted her legs, already feeling her desire anointing her thighs with its warmth. "Dava, it aches," she whispered.

"Then soothe it, my love," he sighed behind her. "Let me see you soothe the ache dreaming of me causes you."

He turned her shivering body and set her on the wooden trunk. He placed his hands on her knees and opened her legs...then looked at her expectantly.

She felt herself flush deeper. No one had ever seen her exposed like this. She instinctively wanted to close her legs, but his hands held her tight. "I...I can't," she began, suddenly feeling shy.

"Look at me, Luci."

Against her better judgment, she raised her eyes to his. She was supposed to remember something about his eyes. They're...so beautiful. The glowing blue orbs held her spell bound.

"Touch yourself," he sighed. "I want to see you pleasure yourself."

In a daze, she spread her long legs wider. He licked his lips and dropped his gaze. With a moan, she obeyed him, staring into his eyes. Her only desire was to please him.

She was drowning in those eyes, her mewling cries growing sharper.

"Tease yourself more, my love. Imagine it's my hands that adore your beauty."

Her free hand reached up and caressed one taut round breast, then she pinched and rolled a pert little nipple making herself hiss. She began to tremble.

Davariel's eyes rolled as he inhaled. "Love," he sighed.

An emotion she refused to name, bloomed brighter, made her eyes tear with its force. Moisture dripped down her cheeks and words she didn't want to admit fought to release themselves from her heart and out through her lips. "Dava-Dava...."

His eyes shimmered as he looked into hers. "Yes, my love. Tell me," he begged, his face contorted in sensual agony. "Tell me what my soul longs to hear."

He was so breathtaking! Again, words stirred in her heart. She writhed, her panting turning into sobs. "I...I...l-lo . . ." Her body convulsed before she betrayed herself. Wetness gushed onto her fingers as her back arched with the force of her orgasm. Luciel's ragged cries of ecstasy reverberated through the tiny room. Through her tears, she saw the expression of awe on his face as he witnessed her passionate release.

She was still panting in the afterglow of her climax when he took her hand and sucked each finger clean, his eyes never leaving her face. The feel of his tongue on her fingers reignited her need. Lowering her gaze, she saw he was rigid with need. The blush colored head dripped copious amounts of precum that ran down his shaft and dripped to the floor. Luciel felt herself salivate.

"Please, Davariel. Please. Take me. Make me yours," she pleaded.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "No."

Then he stood and extended his hand to her. "I had a meal prepared for you. Come."

It was like a slap in her face. The sensual spell around her lessened. She blinked in a daze, feeling her emotions in a riotous turmoil within her. She'd offered herself to him and he'd rejected her. Worse, she realized how close she came to telling him....

No! I refuse to...He did it! He was manipulating my mind to feel things...things that are ludicrous. She cursed inwardly.

He led her out into an adjoining room, which was large. It had an enormous fireplace with a welcoming blaze crackling within. Before the fireplace were two overstuffed chairs. There was also an old cupboard against the wall between two windows, and a long wooden table in the very center of the large room surrounded by eight chairs. The scent of wood, spices, and pleasant herbs gave the place a cozy homey feel. She felt as though she were living out a scene in a fairytale. Any minute Little Red Riding Hood or Goldie-locks would come knocking at the door.

Speaking of Goldie-locks, Davariel pulled out a chair for her at one end of the table, burying his nose in her hair as she sat. Luciel had to clench her fists to keep from slapping him. She felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment at her stupid behavior in the bedroom, and grew more furious with him as well as herself. She was certain he'd manipulated her the whole time and she'd played right into it like an idiot.

She lowered her head, letting her hair veil her face.

With a loud sigh, he moved away to sit at the other end of the table, while she clenched her teeth in humiliation.

No. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how mortified she felt that he hadn't taken advantage of her blatant offer to be his sex toy.

Luciel grabbed a spoon by a bowl of stew and began wolfing it down.

She hadn't realized how hungry she was. The stew was amazing. A piece of freshly baked bread sat on a smaller plate by a frosty glass of golden juice. The warmth of the nourishing meal soothed her.

Chewing, she risked a look at Davariel through the strands of her hair. He watched her eat in rapt attention.

She found that it was easier to resist his allure if she kept her focus on just one particular part of him, rather than the whole. For now, she just looked at his hands, the way they rested on the table before him as he gazed at her. He had such long fingers, delicate, like a musician's or artist. Then, with a sigh, he folded his arms and rested his chin upon them. She lowered her eyes to the stew with a start, blushing.

Oh well, so much for not getting caught up in that pretty face. She felt herself bristling again. I'm such a weak dumb ass!

"Most people can't keep their eyes off me. You make an effort not to look. Why?"

"I don't like looking at ugly things," she retorted, then stole a quick glance at him.

He looked shocked. His head snapped back up. "You think I'm ugly?" He said it softly, as if she'd hurt his feelings.

"Very!" She scowled into the bowl, not wanting to look back up lest he catch her in her bald-faced lie. She was a lousy liar.

He was silent for a moment, his fingers thrumming upon the wooden table as he mulled over her words. "Then why are you attracted to me? I can smell your arousal from here."

Fuck! What is it with him and that nose? She imagined herself giving him a good pop on that perfect snub nose and breaking it. Maybe then, he won't be able to smell my arousal. Jerk!

Luciel slammed the spoon down on the table and pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You make me want you and you know it." His eyes widened and his cheeks turned red. "You did it in the room and you did it last night in that crazy dream you projected into my head. You made me want you. Deny it!"

"I do deny it, Luci. I'd wanted to terrify you, but you were so...horny for me . . ." He let the words trail off with raised brows. She felt her face burn in embarrassment. "I don't know about what happened in the room, but I'm not doing anything now and you still want me...very much, if I must say so myself. I don't think I've ever come across anyone who's desired me the way you do. I smell lust, but there's also something else I've never scented before. It's very pleasing to me." He expressed the latter on a rapturous sigh, glowing, electric-blue eyes closing as he leaned in closer to sniff again.

She remembered what he had said during the fantasy fuck he'd given her, about smelling like love, and panicked. "You mesmerize people," she accused, hitting the table with her hand.

He blinked, his mouth hanging open at a loss for words. Her remark had struck a sore spot. "I don't do it on purpose," he exclaimed in fervor. "You've mesmerized me too."

He was upon the table, crawling on hands and knees, with a few golden tendrils of his hair dragging along the wooden surface. His body moved with slow, sensual grace. When he reached her, after having put her food to one side of the table, he sat perched on the very edge, swinging his long sinewy legs over to either side of her. He spread his mouth watering thighs and rested his feet against the legs of the table, leaning back on his hands.