Angel Betrayed (The Fallen #2)(45)

She moved to brush by Sam. He blocked her path. “Are you afraid?”

Let’s recap. She had a psycho Fallen on her trail, one who apparently wasn’t gonna stop chasing her until she was dead. She’d turned her back on Rogziel, and the guy wasn’t exactly the forgiving sort. And, bonus, now it looked like Sam was in danger of serious dismemberment. “Damn straight I am.”

Because she wasn’t sure she’d be surviving the coming week. “It’s not like your witch said he saw us living happily ever after behind some picket fence, Sam.”

A faint furrow appeared between his brows. “You . . . want to live with me?”

Her lips parted. Her words had come out way wrong. “Look, we need to be afraid. Both of us. That guy didn’t say that you managed to come away unscathed.”

“But he didn’t say we died, either.”

Um, no. “He also didn’t say we lived.” Had he missed that point?

Sam shrugged.

She snarled and marched around him. “I am too tired for this crap. I’m showering, I’m hitting the bed, and then,” she threw over her shoulder, “when morning comes, we are going to figure how to kick ass . . . and not get our asses kicked.”

She grabbed the bathroom doorknob.

“You don’t have to worry, I won’t let Az hurt you.”

Sure. Easy to say. Right then, she could still taste ash. She slammed the bathroom door shut behind her without replying. The room was a matchbox, but it was better than nothing. She took one step forward and yanked on the shower. The water thundered out—at least that worked well enough. She stripped, climbed into the shower, and as the water fell onto her in hot, rough bursts, she wondered what the hell would happen next.





She dreamed of fire and blood. Of falling, faster, faster, plummeting from the sky as her body burned. No, not her body.

Her wings.

Seline tried to scream, but only a whimper escaped from her lips. Her body trembled, and she fell. The ground was coming up fast beneath her, and she knew she’d slam into that unforgiving surface.

Burning and falling.

Her eyelids flew open. “No!”

And she wasn’t falling anymore. She was in the lumpy bed at the motel. The sheets were twisted around her legs, and Sam lay sleeping beside her.

She yanked a hand through her tangled hair. She didn’t usually have nightmares, but after the day she’d had, no wonder she’d been dreaming of death.

Sam groaned beside her. Her eyes darted to him. His features were tense, his jaw clenched, and, hold on, was that pain on his face?

He rolled away from her, and with the sunlight streaming through the blinds, she got her first true look at his back.

The thick scars cut right across his shoulder blades. Exactly where wings would have been. No, exactly where they had been.

Seline realized what had been happening. The fire and fall hadn’t been her dream. It hadn’t been his, either, not really.

Because it hadn’t been a dream at all.

Memory. A memory Sam was trapped in right then.

Seline’s hand reached out to trace the thick marks that cut across his left shoulder blade. Her fingertips lightly touched his warm flesh.

She felt the sudden stillness that tightened his body.

She leaned closer to him, and her lips feathered over the raised flesh.

“Seline . . .” Her name seemed torn from him.

Her breath blew against his skin, and she pressed a series of gentle kisses against the marks. First one scar, then another.

He was so warm beneath her lips. Leashed power, waiting to explode.

Her mouth lingered on his skin, tasting him. He’d endured so much pain . . . to have lost his wings . . . what was worse for an angel? “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She didn’t know why he’d fallen, but he’d obviously born a terrible price for whatever crime he’d committed.

He’d already been punished. Rogziel should leave him alone.

In an instant, Sam rolled toward her. His eyes were solid black. “I don’t need your pity.” And in that deep rumble she heard a mix of anger and . . . lust?

He kissed her then, crushing his lips to hers, and, oh, yes, that was lust she tasted on his tongue. This kiss was different from all the ones that had passed before. Wilder, hotter.

Too late, she remembered one more whisper about angels. . . the wings are the most sensitive part of their bodies.

Even the scars? Were they—

Sam lifted her over him. One yank, and he tore her panties away. Her knees dug into the mattress on either side of his body even as the broad head of his fully aroused cock pushed at her entrance.

His gaze blazed at her.

Staring right into his eyes, feeling her own arousal heat her blood, Seline pushed down with her hips and took him in as deep as she could.

Not deep enough. His hands clamped on her hips, and he began to move her, harder, faster. Bedsprings broke beneath them. The bed thudded against the wall.

And still he thrust harder.

Power filled the air, that sweet, wild rush of power that she only got from him. Like nothing else . . . nothing.

She wanted to take and take. To absorb every bit of his sensual energy and lose herself completely with him.

She’d held on to the edge of her control before. In the past, she’d always had to hold back with her lovers. If she let go of that control, bad things could happen.