Raphael kissed the center of Maria’s chest. The pain of the tattoo had finally subsided. The feathers of the toy brushed against her core, and her back arched at the maddening feel. Raphael’s tongue ran over each line of the Fallen’s symbol that Sela had tattooed over the upturned cross Father Murray had seared into her flesh.
“Spread your legs,” Raphael ordered, and Maria moaned. She did as he said and watched, biting her lip, as he sat up, ran his hands down her thighs, and took his length in his hand. Discarding the feather, he thrust inside her. As he filled her so completely, she thought—not for the first time—that she would never tire of this feeling. Of her lover and her soul’s other half pushing inside her and making them one. Raphael leaned forward and captured Maria’s mouth with his own. “I love you,” he rasped, and the sentiment still made her heart burst. She knew he had struggled to understand that what he felt in his heart toward her was love. He fought with understanding feelings that weren’t pain or displeasure, but he now understood love.
“I love you too,” she whispered, and Raphael groaned. His hips worked faster and faster until Maria felt shivers break out on her skin, felt her heart skip and her core build with pleasure.
“Come for me.” As soon as Raphael’s order fled his lips, Maria threw back her head and moaned her release. Raphael roared above her, filling her with his warmth. Maria held on to Raphael, and when she opened her eyes, she found him watching her intensely. “Stay,” he murmured.
Maria kissed his lips. “You’ll be with me soon enough.” She got out of bed and passed by the coffin that still sat in the room. Each night she would lie in it for Raphael, silent, eyes closed, holding a bouquet of white roses while he stayed above her and watched for a couple of hours. Maria used that time for silent reflection. In doing so, she gave Raphael what he needed too.
Maria made her way to the Tomb. Once she’d slipped on her robe, Gabriel gave her the scroll that held the name. “Ready?” he asked, and moved beside the bell. Maria nodded, feeling her body fill with purpose.
Gabriel rang the bell for his brothers. Minutes later, Maria’s heart raced as she heard the sound of feet descending the stone stairs. The Fallen put on their robes and came to where she and Gabriel stood. Maria glanced at Bara, Uriel, Diel, Sela, Michael . . . and finally, Raphael. He smiled when she caught his eyes, his stare molten as she stood before him, dressed in her red robe. Raphael stepped forward, a flush on his cheeks, and Maria smelled fresh air and flowers on his skin. Lifting a rose, he threaded it through her hair, tucking the stem behind her ear. Maria’s heart melted toward Raphael just like it always did. She knew that would never change as long as she lived.
As Raphael took his place next to his brothers, Maria saw the pride he held for her on his handsome face. Pride for what this moment meant to her, to him and all the Fallen. She was one of them now. She’d never felt so at home.
Raphael pulled up his hood. and Maria took a deep, reassuring breath.
“Ready?” Gabriel asked the Fallen. One by one they dropped to their knees, Raphael no longer fighting the act of submission—especially to her. She held such pride toward her lover too, he’d come so far.
Gabriel looked to Maria and nodded in encouragement.
Heart pounding, Maria stepped forward. She cleared her throat. “Brothers,” she said affectionately, looking at her new family, heads covered by black hoods. “Let us begin . . .”