Her Wicked Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 6)

Chapter 5

She was mortal.

He was immortal.

She glanced across at him and he averted his gaze to his wings. The wind played in his black feathers. It had felt good to fly with her in his arms, held close against his chest, and to feel her hands on his skin.

Asmodeus slipped his right hand from beneath hers, leaned to his left and brought his wing forwards, between them. She frowned and a flicker of hurt crossed her face. He hadn’t meant it as a barrier or an act of pushing her away.

He nimbly preened his ruffled feathers and she relaxed again, and went back to gazing at the stars. Asmodeus focused on tending to his wings. Some of the feathers were out of place from flying and he needed something other than Liora to concentrate on so he could free up his mind. Working on a task that was second nature to him often allowed him to clear his head and caused his thoughts to fall into better order. He hoped it was the case today.

Cleaning his weapons normally produced the same effect.

One of his swords did need cleaning, but he didn’t think that Liora would appreciate him tending to the blade. It would remind her of what he had done, and that the Devil wanted her, and it would spoil this quiet moment of calm.

“Do you not like the stars?” she whispered, her gaze returning to him.

Asmodeus paused at his work and looked over his wing to her. He did like the stars and he liked her too, and he thought she was infinitely more beautiful than they were. What would she say if he told her that?

He shoved that thought away and nodded. “I do, but my feathers are misaligned. They irritate me.”

“Can you put your wings away?” Her hazel eyes lowered to his wing and, before he could answer that he could if he desired it, she had reached over, laid her palm on the curve of his wing, and was running her hand down it.

Holy Hell, that felt good.

A shiver bolted through him, hot and fierce, reigniting his blood and making it burn for more. He wanted her to stroke his wing again, to caress it and tease him, driving him wild with need for her.

His fangs lengthened and he sensed the moment his irises brightened and began to verge on crimson. Her eyes widened and her fingers paused against his feathers.

She sounded breathless when she uttered, “You like me touching them?”

Asmodeus told himself not to nod and not to let on that her touching his wings had him hurtling towards the edge of bliss and had him rock hard in his loincloth.

He tried.

Failed.

He nodded and swallowed hard when she resumed her stroking, sending hot little shivers tripping over his flesh, stoking his hunger up degree after degree until he couldn’t take any more.

His red eyes narrowed on her lips.

He wanted to taste them again. He wanted to shove his fingers into her fall of soft chestnut hair, grasp the back of her head and yank it back so he could devour her mouth and master her.

He would do just that.

Asmodeus reached for her.

His head turned, his stomach twisted, and his fingers shook. A wave of weakness crashed over him and he trembled and pressed his hand to his stomach. His heart raced.

“Asmodeus, what’s wrong?” Liora’s hand settled against his cheek and he lifted his wide eyes to hers.

“I do not know.” Admitting that sent shame sweeping through him and he cast his gaze away from her. He focused on his body, his pulse spiking and skin prickling. What was wrong with him?