Sword's Blessing (15 page)

He was breathing a little hard as she pushed him up so she could concentrate, watching her sit forward with wide eyes. Giselle blinked up at him and smiled. “What?” she asked softly.

“Just…” He was silent for a long moment, and then smiled. “I feel like I’m unfolding with you. Like everything’s coming together. Like I’m coming back home. It…feels good.”

For a moment, Giselle watched his face, wondering at what it must be like to remember nothing and then have it all come back, piecemeal. She remembered what Samantha had said, how their connection was so great her presence had kept his soul from shattering beneath Cyrene’s onslaught. How if they’d been separated by death as planned, she would have slowly gone mad. Love ballooned in her heart, and she placed her hands on his hips, pushing up under his shirt and then drawing the cloth over his head. He was as beautiful as she remembered from their brief encounter in the hallway, and watched her intensely as she drew her fingers down the musculature of his chest and stomach.

Finally, she kissed his hip and nodded. “Yes. It’s good to feel you, too.”

His hand tipped up her chin, meeting her gaze silently. Then, without lifting his eyes from hers, he reached down and drew her pants down. Giselle watched his face, and then did the same, both of them supporting the other as they shifted side to side to remove the garments from their knees and ankles, finally facing each other completely naked.

“Weren’t we naked when we first ascended?” Armand asked as he tilted his head, studying her body, the dark hair which curled close at the center of her legs, the place where her stomach met her hips and created a dip in the skin.

“Yes. Gabriel gave us our first clothes.” Giselle couldn’t help but watch his length, straight from hair like hers, so thick it nearly obscured the other ways he was different. It was faintly red, as if blushing in embarrassment, and she cracked a smile at the thought.

“I’m glad you think it’s funny,” Armand joked quietly.

“What?” She paused, and then shook her head, grabbing at his wrist and yanking him over, wrapping arms around his neck so she could kiss him and feel the warmth of his skin on hers. He took a deep breath and moved closer, until their bodies were flush against each other and his hand wound in her hair, his member pressing on her stomach between them. She sighed. Yes. This was right. This was how things were meant to be.

He kissed her for several moments, and Giselle smiled. He was waiting for her, and had been waiting for so long. No doubt if she said something, if she told him she was more than ready, he would say something about savoring their time, about wanting to make it worth the wait.

It would be worth the wait no matter what. She placed her hands at his shoulders and pushed him against the headrest, smiling as he gave her a perplexed look. Before he could speak, she kissed him again and slung a knee over his legs, trapping him beneath her. He seemed to understand what she was doing immediately, and pulled back, looking at her face for a moment.

Spreading out her wings to keep her balance, Giselle shook back her hair and met his gaze, shuffling up so she straddled his hips. His length pressed against her curls, twitching in invitation, but Armand didn’t move and neither did she.

They stayed like that, quiet and watching each other for long moments. Giselle recalled watching each other in times past. As children it had been a contest, a game to see who would blink or laugh first. As they ran from their town it was a gesture of fear, a way to keep each other strong. After their ascendancy a seeking of comfort. Slowly it became simple understanding and solace. They had been raised together, ascended together and tested together. Now they would do this together. She smiled. “Do you remember when your mother and mine got together and talked about being bound by blood?”

He smiled gently. “Yes. And we thought they were going to slice open their wrists and mix it up in a bucket, then put it back in their bodies.”

“Yes!” She couldn’t stop the joyful smile, kissing his forehead. “You do remember.”

“You’re here. How can I not?” He lightly stroked her waist and settled his hands on her hips, leaning up to kiss her neck. “I’m certain by the time tonight is over I’ll remember everything. Every moment in this life and the last.”

“Good.” She reached down, steadying him as she let her knees slacken just enough that he pressed on her. He took a breath and so did she. Did it feel the same for him? A sudden realization of what it meant to truly join with another? As he pressed inside her, her breath hitched and caught–oh the physical pleasure was great to be sure but more than that, suddenly she could feel their connection in a very real way. If it had been a mere filament before, now it was a pipe, and the depths of his soul poured into hers, igniting a fire of adoration more powerful than the sun.

When he gasped, she knew he was no less affected. His grip on her hips shivered, and she came to rest against him, moaning softly and pressing close so she could steady herself with him, shaking hands framing his cheeks. “Armand…”

“Giselle…” he replied, gulping for air. His eyelids fluttered. “Giselle…do you feel it?”

“Yes. Stay with me,” she whispered.

He looked up at her then, and Giselle gasped. His eyes had gone as silver as her sword, blazing as he lifted her slowly, purposefully up, and then down. She caught her breath again as he groaned. “Always, Giselle! Always.”

And again he pressed out, so slowly each second was an ecstatic eternity, until between her body and his spirit, she could barely find words to express the completeness and the strangeness.

“You…” She labored to explain to him how he suddenly glowed beneath her touch, how his eyes blazed with a light which looked like the blessings of her sword.

“Not now…” he said, and a hand wound up her back and he switched their places, gently placing her on the mattress and bearing down again, pressing in, pulling out, more quickly such that she cried out this time. “Not now, love. Feel me.”

And she did. She understood why Angels rarely took lovers then, because the utter connection of sex rendered her completely in touch with him. If he had not been her companion for so long, if they had not known each other all their lives, she would not have been able to trust him with the complete vulnerability, the depth of knowledge which being with him opened to her. As his skin pressed against hers, as he plunged in and out of her, as his hands touched her and lips opened to hers, she saw greater and greater things–their childhood, their ascension, the fights they had won, the fights they had lost, the moment she thought Cyrene had surely killed him, the moment she had denied heaven for his sake…as the night went on though, there was more. It was cloudy. Feminine hands. A voice, sobbing in darkness and wet warmth. Fresh wind and soft apologies. Farewells. Every time she sank too deeply into those foggy thoughts though, Armand kissed her and brought her back, the light of his eyes and the warmth of his skin never letting her stray far.

“Armand, I–”

“I know.” He cupped her cheek and kissed her, the light sliding from his eyes and over her. Though she could barely think in pleasure, in the exchange of his soul, his past, his spirit and hers, he seemed to become more and more calm as light gathered between them and over them. It blazed white and silver, and between the brightness and the pleasure, she had to close her eyes, but gripped tight to his hands, twined between hers against the sheets as he leaned over her and drove in, and together they explored the entirety of their gifts together, gasping, moaning, and shivering.

She had soundly lost track of time, but as her energy dissipated and she grew weary, so did he, and without opening her eyes she gathered him close, kissing him as he rested on top of her. “Armand…I love you.”

“I love you.” He sounded different, but her throat was raw from crying out, so perhaps his was as well. He shifted, staying deep in her and stroking her cheek. She could hear the smile in his voice as he murmured, “Giselle. Open your eyes. See what you’ve done.”

She did. Silver eyes met hers and great white wings tangled with hers on the bed. She smiled. “Armand…my Armand.”

“All that and more,” he whispered, catching her lips. “So much more, love.”

* * * *

“Was the evening to your taste?” Eli teased as he sat down with a steaming mug of coffee, pressing another into Samantha’s waiting hands.

“I can’t remember the last time I partied so hard.” Samantha groaned faintly, and then grinned. “It was pretty amazing.”

“Room party wasn’t too bad either.” Eli winked.

Samantha snorted, but soon tilted her head. “Speaking of room parties, I wonder how our intrepid traveling buddies did?”

“Come on, they’re still asleep or fucking like bunnies,” Eli said. “In fact, we should go bang on the door as a joke.”

“And drive away the only friends we’ve had in a year?” Samantha sipped her coffee. “Not a chance in hell. So to speak.”

They traded quips for a few more minutes, nibbling on continental breakfast, when Eli nudged her. “Well, there’s one.”

Samantha glanced up, and then raised her hand as Giselle swept her gaze over the breakfast area. The angelic woman looked as if she’d had a shower, her dark skin fresh and black hair combed back. She sat down across from them. Samantha blinked. She didn’t look like a woman who’d just consummated the love of her life. In fact she looked rather confused. She spoke quickly. “Everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” Giselle said, sucking on her lip. “Just…I don’t know how to say it…”

Eli and Samantha glanced at each other. “Well, is Manas okay?” Eli said.

“Yes.” Giselle sighed. “I’ll let him do it. Don’t freak out, okay? We’re in public.”

Raising an eyebrow, Samantha nodded. Giselle rose, leaned out of the doors, and said something.

“Oh hell,” Eli spat, and Samantha felt it too. There was a power out there which matched Giselle in depth, but blazed brighter and sharper, more dangerous. “What in the…”

“Armand.” Samantha paused, and then laughed as Armand took Giselle’s arm and they sat down together. “Of course. Life changing events! Good heavens, I wonder if Cassie knew?”

Armand smiled, silver eyes flashing. “I’m certain she did, at least as much as she can.”

“What makes you think so?” Eli asked, leaning away as he studied the angelic man.

Armand’s lip quirked. “Do you two remember what she called me?”

Samantha thought, back to the small apartment looking over Bourbon Street, the sweet tea, the hushed conversation. “Child. She kept calling you, child.”

Armand nodded. “It was an exceptionally apt descriptor.”

Giselle’s smile grew, thought she still looked confused. What in the world had happened? Samantha glanced at Eli, but he looked as confused as she felt. Child? What did that have to do with anything? They hadn’t been looking for a child. They’d been looking for Cyrene and her…

Eli’s face changed at the same time, and they turned in unison back to Armand. “Silver eyes, and you could always see Eli and Giselle…” Samantha said, almost giddy. “Child.
Child!”

Armand nodded, glancing at Giselle almost proudly, and then back to them. “I was Armand. I was Manas. And before them both, I was Aristaeus, born of Cyrene.” He took Giselle’s hand. “She saved me from the torment of her madness. Now I return to do the same.”

Kaitlin R. Branch

Kaitlin graduated from college for Biology, taught English in South Korea, briefly entertained a stint as a zookeeper, and finally decided that after all she wanted to write books.
 
It just so happens that she married a man who had the same idea.
 
She loves to read mysteries, but writes romance and high fantasy.
 
Go figure.
 
She also happens to be completely wild about Greek myth, which might explain a bit about The Cinereal Series.

You can find Kaitlin and her Husband, Michael, at
www.kaitlinandmichaelbranch.com
and on twitter with @theatheleseries.