Soul Stealer (17 page)

Thank God she wasn’t a girly girl. She wouldn’t be able to handle that shit if she was.

Chapter Seventeen

There was no explaining the headache ringing between Voro’s ears as he returned to his room, suddenly exhausted by the scope of what was yet to come.

Voro stretched out on the bed in the clothes he’d worn down to … The surface? The land of the living? Down there? Whatever they call it.

The long and short of his situation was that he was going to help Raphael. The guy was a model angel, what everyone else here strived to be. And down there? He was another human with no idea how things really worked. He was chum, basically, and he deserved a lot better than that.

Yeah, Voro was worried about him. And he also felt responsible for this whole thing. They wouldn’t have been there at that time for any other reason than Voro learning how to use his fucking spidey-senses. And angel that he was, Raphael would have helped anyone no matter what but it was still because of Voro the whole thing went down.

Voro was also going to have to face the fact that this thing could very well be a Psionic Vampire. What else could render an angel, by all appearances anyway, mortal? Nothing else had that kind of power. To smite one, sure. But make them human? That’s a soul and essence thing. That takes a different kind of power all together.

He closed his eyes, putting a hand to the centre of his chest. It was hurting, and he was sure it was anxiety. Christ, he lived for some six hundred years as a Sin Eater and didn’t even know the meaning of stress. Now he was drowning in the shit.

The knock on his door was not soft and meek; it was determined to be answered. That’s the only reason he dragged his sorry ass to his feet and opened the door, ready to ask to be left alone. But it was Anael, and that bitch was not likely to do him any
favour.

Sure enough she pushed right by him, walking in to his room, stopping right in the centre and turning back to face him. Her face was hard to read, and without the ability to use his other senses he honestly had no idea what she wanted.

“Close the door. I have to talk to you.”

With a raise of the eyebrows and a shake of the head he did as told, turning back to her and leaning back on the door. He wasn’t going to give her a chance to sneak up on him and kick his ass.

“I need to know that you actually understand how important this is. Raphael is far more important than your ego or agenda, whatever that might be. We love him, and we need him here. When we lose one of our own, it weakens all of us.”

Maybe that was what he was actually feeling. If it was a metaphysical absence of a source of strength he’d be relieved. Not so much if it was because of his feelings.

“Look, sweetheart -”

“
Anael
.”

“- not that I need to explain anything I do to you, but I happen to think Raphael is pretty fucking important, too. And it’s for him that I’m doing this, not any of you. So yeah, I take this seriously. I’d die for good if it meant he was okay.”

As soon as he said it he knew it to be completely true. Raphael was his one and only friend that he unquestionably trusted. Well, now that he was here anyway. And Raphael was the only one that could make him question his own conscience. That damn angel had always thought Voro could be good, now Voro found himself wanting to prove that faith was put in a good place.

His e
yes were tingling. Holy shit. He would
not
cry. Not here and certainly not in front of Anael.

He straightened again, peeling his back off the door and turning to pull the handle and give her the boot, but dammit, she was fast –

She shoved the door closed, spun him around, and before he knew what was happening, she was fully against him, holding him by his shirt front and pushing him against the door with surprising strength.

“Anael – what the fuck?”

That was all he got out. She pressed her mouth against his and his brain short-circuited. His skin completely lit up, setting off a live-wire current all the way up to his scalp and down to the bottoms of his feet. It was like being electrocuted with pure sex.

Like a person grabbing on to the wrong end of a cattle prod his body clenched, but not before grabbing her hips and pulling her in tighter. She moaned, her tongue stroking at his mouth hotly while her hips rotated against him.

Voro’s whole body jerked, and he broke contact with her mouth long enough bark out a juicy curse word, pick her up and carry her to his bed. He set her down on the mattress and immediately followed, crawling up over that lean body as she began to untie the sash at her waist that held her tunic closed. He didn’t bother waiting; his mouth smothered hers again, and she responded immediately, her hands gripping his hair tightly, that tongue totally working him over.

Every part of her was tight and perfect. His hands tested every swell and dip from her firm ass and up to her hips and waist. She arched and allowed his hands full access, turning her head for him while he dipped his mouth down to her neck and shoulder. Her rushed breathing was his reward so far. Voro yanked the tie on her top, his hand
s parting the halves of the shirt as they travelled underneath and over her skin. The peaked breasts he uncovered made his erection kick but he was still careful as he lowered his mouth to tease her nipple …

“Wait,” her voice was raspy, but firm.

He froze, but she was still in his mouth. When she made no move to speak or get away, his tongue flicked over that pink tip again, and her legs squirmed under him, back arching up as she gave the most divine moan.

He turned his attention to the other breast, leaving his hand behind on the previous to circle and tease. Her whimpers continued as her body told him how much she liked it.

The pants she wore also had a tie, but they were loose. He slid his hand off her breast and downward across her drum-tight stomach to the waistband, taking his time but not stopping for permission either. His hand was pushing down on the fabric when she clenched his wrist suddenly, causing him to jerk his head up. She’d raised her head, too, and her lips were extra-pink, her cheeks extra-rosy and her breathing markedly rushed. But her eyes were steely.

“What the hell am I doing?” The question was thrown out absently, and he knew better than to answer.

So he waited, his cock throwing a very painful temper tantrum. He was still aware of the warmth of her and it seemed as though even the hair on his arms was up for the task, so to speak.

“You want me to stop?” He eventually asked, dropping a kiss on her stomach, the skin impossibly soft and scented like some kind of heavenly lily. He kept his eyes trained up on her face, not trying to pull away from her grasp.

Her lips parted farther and her eyelids drooped, so he did it again. She had no problem at all showing him her reaction to what he did.

“Will it hurt?” She whispered, her eyelids fluttering as he kept up his ministrations over her stomach.

“It can. But it could feel good right after.” His tongue darted out and his eyes rolled back from the taste of her; she was straight honey on his taste buds.

“I want you,” she admitted breathily, probably unaware of how her husky voice was turning him on. “I hate you, but I want you at the same time.”

He rose up again and she let go of his hand. He slid a hand along her neck, kissing her slowly now. She let him lead this time, opening her mouth to his tongue slowly, allowing her hands to trail down his shoulders. Her hands, he wanted her hands on his skin so badly …

He rose to his knees, all but threw his T-shirt across the room, then returned to her embrace. Hell yeah – that electricity in her lips lived throughout her skin. It sparked on his chest as it met hers, then his arms as she trailed her palms downward, gripping and kneading as she went.

His hands avoided her breasts, moving down her sides instead. She seemed content with the contact of his chest against that sensitive zone. So his hand caressed lightly along her hip, which she rose off the bed to grant him access around the small of her back.

With a move that impressed even him she rolled them both so she was astride his hips, and it seemed to startle her. Settling across his groin her hair spilled over her face and shoulders. She pushed it back out of the way, then looked down at him and seemed to realize she was bare to him. Her hands moved to cover herself, but he held her hands apart, pulling her back down against him. From here he let his hands play up on to her shoulders, shoving that top the rest of the way off, tracing along the fine skin down her spine, reaching down to grip that fantastic ass. It just so happened that it brought her right down in contact with his crotch, too.

That seemed to be the first time she realized he was aroused. She parted their mouths, eyes wide as she stared down into his face from just a couple inches away.  Then she sat up again, nakedness forgotten, squirming back and reaching for the fly of his jeans.

He caught her hands, and she looked up at him, eyes still wide.

“Anael …” he heard a foreign desperation in his voice as he tried to get himself under control.

“What?”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded immediately, still breathing through her mouth. He let her hands go carefully, and she unbuttoned then unzipped his fly. That hot length was testing the elasticity of his boxer shorts, and her breath caught as she stared down at it.

This was good. It was calming him down a bit. He was likely to release the very second she grabbed it, but at least this gave him time to mellow that flow just a bit -

She backed up and flew off the bed so fast she was there one minute and a weight lifted the next. He sat up, startled, as she fluttered around the room refastening her shirt and chattering unintelligibly to herself.

“Anael? Anael!”

She just shook her head. “I was testing myself, and I failed. But I stopped eventually.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I have to go.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

She stopped with her hand on the door, taking a deep breath. He took the pause in activity to stuff himself back in his pants and do up his fly.

“You don’t know. I’m sure Raphael never told you.”

“Told me what?”

“We can’t … we can’t have sex. Not because angels are incapable, but because anyone who can handle having sex with us will go insane.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I should go.”

She was gone in a cloud of flowery perfume and blonde hair, slamming the door behind herself.

Voro exhaled slowly, his skin and lips still feeling the effects of having touched her. He rearranged himself in his pants, but it was painful. Great. Now he was going to have to take care of that on his own, too …

Patrice knew she was in trouble the second they arrived at Doctor Aubericus’s door. Not because she was uncomfortable around all that obvious wealth, and not because it smelled like meat inside and she tended to prefer a vegetarian diet; but because the man next to her was overwhelming her with a lot more than his size and beauty.

He offered her his arm when they walked down the street. He held doors for her. And when the doctor welcomed them inside his sleek apartment, her John Doe put his hand to her lower back to usher her ahead of him.

That touch was her undoing. Her entire body quivered and her heart dropped all the way down to her knees.

She presented Vinnie with a bottle of wine which he said he’d had before and enjoyed. The awkwardness she’d expected hanging out with a doctor from work was gone the second another petite, dark-haired woman stepped in to the room. She was dressed nice and simple, hair hanging loose over her shoulders, her eyes a startling pale green. She came forward with an unsure smile, offering Patrice her hand.

“I’m Iola Day,” she said by way of introduction.

“This is my girlfriend,” the doctor chimed in, putting his hands on her slim shoulders. “This is Patrice, she’s a nurse at work. And this is …” he frowned. “When your friend came by the other day, did he say what your name was?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m … I’m Ralph.”

“Ralph? I don’t think I’ve ever met a Ralph in real life.”

He shrugged his substantial shoulders. “Yeah, I thought it was pretty weird, too.”

“Well come in, have a seat,” Iola urged them after shaking Ralph’s hand. “I’m just waiting for a few more things to finish. I’m running behind schedule today.”

The doctor ran his hands up and down her arms, and as she smiled up at him over her shoulder it was apparent what had put them behind schedule. Patrice had to look away from the sight of all that love.

“So, can I offer you a drink? Just a little something before dinner? As your doctor I wouldn’t recommend alcohol but as your host … maybe a dash of scotch?”

Ralph shrugged as Patrice took a seat on the far end of a leather, boxy sofa.

“Patrice? What would you like?”

“
Umm, whatever you’re having.”

“Excellent.”

Amber liquid was poured into a few squat glasses and passed around. Ralph sat next to her, looking down in to his glass with a chuckle. “I don’t know if I’ve ever had scotch.”