| |
In her time with Irdu, Ronnie had experienced a lot when it came to sex. He never left her wanting. But he also wasn’t Michael. Being with either of them was equally incredible, but very different. She had yet to find something that could fill the void Michael created when he left.
It was why she surrounded herself with people who radiated happiness and lust; she could never recreate for herself the intensity that spilled from a human when they desired.
Michael knotted his fingers in her hair and crushed his mouth to hers. Something in her chest snapped, and that missing something flooded her skin. Her nerve endings. Her every thought. The scents of fresh pine and sunshine filled her nostrils. She could sink into this and be happy never emerging.
He yanked her hair and deepened the kiss. A whimper tore from her throat. She had memories of the night they spent together a few short months ago, but they were diluted by the perspective of two different minds. This was all her, and the uncut contact was new and intoxicating. She dragged her nails down his back and under his shirt, drawing him closer, needing to feel more.
When she dragged her fingers along his bare skin, memorizing each contour and reflex at her touch, he growled against her mouth. He broke away to strip off his shirt, before pulling her in again. He lowered his mouth to her neck, kissing and then sucking on the tender skin. “A lollipop, is it?” His words hummed through her.
“Or something else sweet and lickable.” More of her bold wit evaporated each time he touched her.
He alternated licks and kisses along her collarbone, as he glided his hands under her shirt and up her sides. “You paint delicious pictures with metaphor.”
Everything felt and tasted and smelled distinct, as if a filter had been removed from her senses. As clothes came off, and he guided her toward the bedroom, anticipation built inside.
She hesitated at the foot of the bed, and he propelled her forward, urging her to lie on her back. He crawled toward her, his gaze tracing every curve and nuance of her body as he moved. He kissed her navel and followed a path up her chest, until he claimed her mouth. He tasted like candy and smelled of pine and felt like satin sliding against her.
His fingers slid easily between her folds, and she groaned. Teasing and foreplay were fun, but she wanted to be part of him.
“I wanted to see the expression on your face as you enjoy yourself.” His growl slid through her. He rolled onto his back and tugged her on top of him.
She smirked and hovered, keeping enough distance to feel him without making contact. Maybe a little teasing was okay.
He reached between their legs and grabbed his shaft. A guttural cry tore from her chest. when he thrust up with a grunt. “I missed you, angel.” She liked the way the endearment rolled off his tongue.
She rose up almost to the tip, then dropped down against him again. The slow build-up raised the friction between them. She wanted to memorize every touch. Every groan that drifted from his throat. He gripped her thighs, digging in his fingers, and increased the speed. When she closed her eyes and leaned back, driving him deeper inside, he hit deep inside her.
He drove one hand up her chest, pinched a nipple, and rolled it between his fingers. She gasped and pushed harder against him.
He dug his fingers into her thigh as their pace grew more frantic. Her lips parted, gasps blurring together. He found her clit, swollen and peeking from its hood, and drew tight circles around it.
She leaned back with a cry, and she raked his legs with her nails. She clenched around him, milking him. Breaking down his resistance. God, he was incredible. He spilled inside her, hot and frantic, thrusting until he was spent.
They both struggled to catch their breath as they slowed to a stop. She shuddered, smile never leaving her face, when he pulled out of her. He tugged her forward so her head rested on his chest and trailed his fingers up her spine.
He rolled to the side, and she curled up and settled her head against his shoulder.
He brushed a loose strand of hair off her forehead and kissed her. His thumb traced tiny circles over her spine. “I’m glad I stayed.” The hunger was gone from his voice, but the commanding power remained.
She smiled and rested more of her weight against him.
The glow radiated through her was more intense than any second-hand high she got in Las Vegas. The conversation with Irdu from the day before, that she didn’t need to lose herself in someone else, drifted back to her.
“You’re quiet. Are you all right?” Michael drew his finger along her arm, light enough to tease but not tickle.
“Enjoying the moment.” Which would end by morning. He’d go back to what he was doing, and she’d have to deal with work.
Like that, her rambling thoughts dampened the mood. She grasped for the amazing sensations of a few minutes ago. Any relationship with Michael besides a professional one was temporary. She’d known that since he left. There was no reason to lose herself in that past or wallow in pity about things she couldn’t change. She had the memory of tonight, and she’d face the rest as it happened.
Why couldn’t the reality be as easy as thinking it into existence?
* * * *
“I WONDERED IF I’D HEAR from you today.” Abaddon sounded better than last time Michael spoke with her, but her tone held traces of exhaustion. “Actually I thought it would be yesterday. I’m wounded you kept me waiting.”
The expectation cranked Michael’s suspicion another notch. “Why would I call?”
“Because you miss me, silly.” The teasing sounded forced.
“What’s your schedule like today?” He couldn’t summon the flirting they’d fallen into before, even knowing it was an act. He expected her to push back with a line like, what makes you think I’ll drop everything to see you?
She sighed. “I have time now if you do. You name the location.”
“There’s a local little bakery. Can you meet me there?” he asked.
“By local, I assume you mean that place around the corner from corporate?”
He knew what she meant by corporate without clarification. When did Ubiquity become so much a part of every angel’s existence, whether they worked there or not, that it could be referred to in such a generic term? “I do. I’ll grab us a table.”
“I’ll be there in ten.” She disconnected.
Michael already stood outside the building, which was wedged between a tanning salon and vitamin store. He wasn’t surprised the bakery was the only one of the three that did steady business.
When he stepped inside, the scent of baking bread mixed with a hint of sweetness greeted him. It was just after ten, so most of the Ubiquity agents were done grabbing last-minute breakfast, and were now counting the minutes until lunch, which left the place almost empty. That was perfect for this conversation. Easier to sense if anyone besides Abaddon was nearby.
He didn’t like having to be so alert around old friends, but apparently this was a different world. He ordered one of the house specials for Abaddon, and two coffees. Something about the idea of a giant cinnamon roll drenched in cream-cheese frosting and caramel sauce didn’t sound like the right kind of sweet. Ronnie, on the other hand... sharp, sugary, and tantalizing described her perfectly. That wasn’t the place he needed his mind right now.
Abaddon joined him a few moments later and settled into a chair on the other side of the battered wooden table. She raised her brows when he slid the plate toward her. “I’d heard rumors. I didn’t believe them.” She twirled the fork between her fingers, before sectioning off a bite. “And it really is heavenly.”
The levity was nice, despite feeling strained. “As I understand it, one of the demons from marketing requested it one day, and once word got out they offered such a thing, it became their top seller.”
“Go figure.” Abaddon dumped a large quantity of sugar in her coffee before taking a sip. “I thought you weren’t back at Ubiquity.”
The statement amplified his concern. She might figure he was from his choice of a meeting location, but there was more to his suspicion than that; she’d also expected his call. “What gives you the impression I am?”
“I’m not here to play games, regardless of what you think.” She met his gaze. “They seem to have the inside track on those explosions from over the weekend. The ones the news says they’re covering up. I gave you half those locations that were attacked. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already. It’s the only reason you call me these days.”
He wouldn’t get sucked into a simple jab and feel guilty. “We didn’t speak for more than two hundred years, and the only reason you reached out was because you wanted information on Ronnie.” During his brief stint at Ubiquity, Abaddon tracked him down. She said she wanted a job, but her questions at the time all focused on Ronnie.
“How long have you known that’s why I was there?”
“Since that first day.” When he’d watched her fumble through excuses for contacting him, he realized why everyone said he couldn’t lie. She suffered the same ailment. Funny. Once upon a time he’d considered it an asset.
She nibbled on her food. “But you kept in contact despite that.”
“I enjoy the company.” With a heavy supply of backstabbing running rampant through the ranks, it was nice to talk to someone who—while she kept secrets—couldn’t hide much when he asked a direct question.
“And you wanted your own information.”
“And that.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Since Ubiquity is covering up the attacks, and they have something to do with you, maybe you stashed your ethics for more information. You’re not above it.”
He really didn’t like the double-talk, even in small doses. “I’m not back there. I know people on the inside. Like we all do.”
“Since you’re pumping me for information, can I get some in return?” she asked.
“Probably not.”
“How’s that fair?”
He had a list of reasons. She sent him into Moscow. She kept a cherub when she shouldn’t have. He could start ticking things off, but she already knew his concerns. “It depends on what you want to know,” he said.
“Are you talking to her again?”
“I’m not sure how that’s relevant to you, but she goes by Ronnie.”
“Which I’ll take to mean yes.”
Lucifer had told him about the name preference, but Michael saying anything besides no implied yes.
Abaddon pushed her empty plate aside. “I don’t plan to use the information for anything nefarious.” She chewed on her bottom lip and furrowed her brow. “The thing is, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since Boston, and more after Moscow. I didn’t expect things to go down this way. I’m not in this for the destruction. I’ll tell you everything I know.”
It was almost too easy, but that was no reason to not hear her out. Even if she fed him snippets of the truth or an entire story woven in bullshit, he could suss it out. He wanted to think the best of the offer, though. She did help Izrafel and Tiamet. She’d been giving Michael names. And she tended to fiddle with her jacket when she was hiding something.
“I’m listening.”
“He wants the three of you out of the way. He doesn’t like the way you do things.”
“Gabriel.” That was old news to Michael. Gabriel told Ronnie himself he wanted to be the only original left standing.
“He’s picking and choosing from the ranks of agents, both heaven and hell, those who he believes have the same goals he does. The cherub thing—access to extra power—is a bit of extra incentive.”
A year ago, Michael wouldn’t have believed a motive like that. Now it sounded all too plausible. “If you’re in enough to have one of your own, to have achieved the gold star so to speak, why have you been giving the others up to me?”
“Getting the power-up isn’t the gold-star reward. Gabriel’s far more liberal with that information than he should be. As in, everyone knows how to do it, and he makes no effort to keep it under wraps. Which is biting him in the ass. He gave me names. Those he felt might become a threat, or who were too hard to control, like Ariel. It was to keep me in your good graces.”
Michael couldn’t hide his scowl. Apparently he didn’t have as great a handle on the situation as he thought.
“But when I saw what Azazel did, both times.” She shuddered. “And Vine. I don’t like that. I want order. Gabriel promised submission, and chaos isn’t the way to get there.”
“Were you supposed to give me Vine?” Michael asked.
“No. Cassiel. Vine was supposed to behave. Be rational. Prove I wasn’t the only one who could be talked down. Give you another point of contact and a little more reason to hesitate before killing. I don’t know why he went the violence route instead. Gabriel didn’t expect you to be so efficient, and Vine should have been a way to make you question your actions.”
“I see.” Michael let the information roll around in his thoughts, working to process everything it meant.
Abaddon leaned closer, voice low. “I don’t want to be a part of that anymore. I wish I could give you more information. If what Vine did in Moscow was his idea or someone else’s...”
“Who let him out of hell?”
“I—what? You killed him. That’s what you do. Seek and destroy.” Her surprise looked genuine.
He shouldn’t tell her the next bit, but if she was feeding him a story, she already knew, and if her surprise was genuine, this would cement her decision. “I did, but not until Saturday. Ronnie got to him before me the first time. Sent him back home. He was behind the explosions over the weekend.”
She scrubbed her face. “Fuck. I don’t know who did it. Vine was the highest-ranking demon I was aware of working for Gabriel.”
He hoped this meeting would clear things up for him, but it only left him with more questions. “If you’re telling me this, you must be out now.”
“Yes. So, I can’t feed you names anymore.”
Any names he didn’t get from Abaddon were luck on his part—right place, right time, tracking patterns. But those opportunities were few and far between, and if Gabriel was... what? Building an army? Well, then, he had a lot more than a couple dozen agents answering to him. This meeting was one bit of bad news after another.
For the first time in his existence, Michael understood why people hated Mondays.