The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance 2 (6 page)

Nervous, eager, she smiles at him and leads him across the clearing to a more secluded section of the park. She finds a spot near a cluster of trees, private and yet inviting, and she wraps her arms around his shoulders and stands on her tiptoes as she pulls his head down to hers.

The kiss begins softly, tenderly, as Aaron embraces her. His mouth is warm against hers, and she slowly melts in his arms. Now his tongue is nudging between her lips. She opens her mouth to him and his tongue rolls against hers.

His hands leave her waist to travel up her back, caressing, stroking. Warmth turns to heat as she feels those touches in other places, small sparks along her arms and chest and lower.

Caitlin moans, but the sound is eaten by Aaron’s kiss.

Now his mouth is moving down her jaw, her neck, along the curve of her shoulder, his kisses damp on her skin. Back up along her throat, and now the shell of her ear, licking and teasing, kissing and nibbling, making her pant.

She wants this – just her and him, together, tonight. She wants him to touch her all over. She wants to explore his body and discover what he likes – what he loves.

She wants him.

Caitlin lowers her arms until they’re circling his waist. As he’s kissing along her jaw and her other ear, her hands move lower until they’re skimming along his bottom. Lower still, until her fingernails graze the backs of his thighs.

His erection pokes her belly.

“Caitlin,” he whispers in her ear, his voice husky. “Tell me. Tell me when to stop.”

One hand still playing along his backside, she reaches up with her other hand to cup his chin. Her gaze locked on his, she says, “Don’t stop.”

He licks his lips before he asks, “You sure?”

“I trust you.”

Something dances behind Aaron’s eyes – excitement or arousal or maybe something else completely, and he says, “I trust you too, Caitlin.” And then his mouth is on hers again, pressing hard now, bruising her lips with his own. Lower now, down her neck again until he’s licking between the swells of her breasts.

Caitlin is breathing heavily, her chest thrust out, feeling her body flush. Aaron’s mouth latches on to her nipple, and her knees buckle. He catches her, supports her back as his tongue licks that sensitive nub. Now the other nipple, coaxing it until it’s as hard as its twin.

Deep inside her, something begins to coil, a delicious ache that quickens her breathing and makes her say his name.

His hand leaves her back, glides its way along her hip until it’s resting on her belly. And he’s sucking her nipples, first one and then the other, now kissing the swells of her breasts, mouth and tongue working against her skin. His fingers stretch down, whisper over her pubic hair.

She’s rocking against him, panting, telling him with her body to do more. The ache within her increases to an insistent pressure, building as his hand moves farther down – slowly, so very slowly. Too slowly.

“Aaron,” she breathes. “Don’t stop.”

His fingers slide between her legs, and she gasps. He’s inside her now, probing, stroking, and she’s bucking against him, her head thrown back and her eyes closed. And then he hits a spot that makes her blood catch fire. The coil winds tight tight tight . . . and she cries his name as the orgasm takes her.

Aaron slides his hand out, and now he’s lowering her to the ground, and she barely feels the grass along her shoulders and back and bottom because she’s still floating in bliss so sweet she never wants it to end. She hears something tear, like foil, and she looks up to see Aaron fumbling a condom over his erection. She tries to imagine which spell he’d used to make it appear out of nowhere but her mind is foggy and her body is pulsing with aftershocks, and Caitlin can’t really think at all.

He pauses for a moment, standing over her as he drinks in her form, and the way he’s looking at her makes her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. “You sure?” he asks, his voice raspy.

She smiles up at him. “Yes.”

Triumph shines in his eyes as Aaron climbs on top of her, and now he’s kissing her and kissing her and kissing her as he moves on top of her, slides inside her, nudging that spot that makes sparks shoot behind Caitlin’s eyes. Aaron is pumping inside her and she’s moving with him, hips together, bodies fluid, up and down and up and faster and faster now as he’s thrusting and she feels that amazing pressure build again, yawning up like a tidal wave inside her, up and up and up and just as she thinks she can’t take it anymore, Aaron shouts her name and thrusts one final time and as he shudders against her, the wave crashes over Caitlin and she spirals down in rapture.

He sags against her, spent, grinning like a fool and laughing. “Caitlin,” he says like a song. “Caitlin. Oh my Caitlin.”

“My Aaron,” she says, her voice thick and sleepy.

They lie there for a time, limbs entwined like pretzels, as their sweat cools beneath the glow of the moon. Caitlin has never been more at peace. She wants to thank him, but what she actually says is, “I love you.”

And by the Goddess, Aaron replies, “I love you too.”

It’s the first day of what assuredly will be the rest of their lives together . . .

Caitlin blinked away tears as the memory ended. Closing the lid, she looked at Aaron, and the man she had once loved so very much, and she asked, “Why? Why this memory?”

A long pause as Aaron gazed at her, his eyes sad, the lines on his face suddenly prominent. And he said, “Because it hurt me too much to keep it any longer.”

This time, Caitlin can’t stop the tears.

“I still love you,” Aaron says softly. “I wish I could just turn it off, or that it would have faded away. I wish I could say I’m not the same man I was when you left me, that I’ve changed. But I am who I am, Caitlin. And all the magic in the world won’t change that.”

She closed her eyes and remembered the boy she had loved.

She opened her eyes and saw the man who loved her still.

The man she still cared for, still wanted.

Still loved?

She bit her lip and reached over to take his hand. “We travelled to Hell to save my sister. Why is this the hard part?”

Aaron’s lips twitched in acknowledgment, but he said nothing as he waited for her to pass judgment.

With her free hand, she brushed away her tears. “I don’t want you to change, Aaron. I don’t know what I want. But . . .”

When her voice faded, he prompted, “But?”

Caitlin took a deep breath. “But maybe we can both sleep in the bed tonight, and then take it from there.”

Aaron’s eyes shone, and he lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. “ ‘Maybe’ has never sounded so good.”

Caitlin, smiling through new tears, had to agree.

They left the coffee shop, hand in hand. And soon they were making new memories together.

Ava Gray

One

Just one glimpse. Camael knew it was unwise. He had been warned more than once and yet he found himself helpless to resist. Her beauty struck him on a level deeper than pleasure, deeper than pain. And so he stood on the other side of the Veil, hidden from her sight, and watched her brush out her long hair beside the river.

Most women bathed in company. Soft laughter and splashing would accompany their ablutions, but not hers. She was quiet, almost sombre; it did nothing to lessen her loveliness. Her hair shone like polished onyx, streaming down her shapely back in a swathe of dark silk. Sometimes she sang, and he closed his eyes, buoyed up by the melody. But not today.

For the first time, she spoke. “I feel you.”

She could not possibly mean him. Camael held his silence.

“I know whenever you are here,” she went on. “At first I took you for one of the river spirits, and I left gifts. But they went untouched.”

Should he have accepted her tokens, then? She had left him seashells and beads, prettily strung. But he had no use for such things. He stilled, uncertain.

“Show yourself,” she commanded.

His brethren would do worse than talk of folly if they witnessed what he did next. But he could not resist the urge to speak with her. It went against every edict. Passing the Veil, he shimmered into her world and donned a human body. She rose in a silver ripple of water and turned to face him, clad only in her hair.

“What are you, river spirit or demon?”

“Neither,” he said.

“Why do you watch me?”

“Because you are beautiful.”

Such a simple answer – and yet it appeared to please her. He could not have expected that, given how exotic she seemed and how little he knew of mortals. Camael only knew that he enjoyed watching them; they always seemed so much freer than he, unconstrained by the rules of heaven.

“My father would cut off the head of any man caught dishonouring me so.” She tilted her head, speculative. “But you . . . you are not a man.”

“No.”

“What then? You wear a man’s form. Are you a devil come to seduce me?”

Again, he said, “No.”

But a flicker of interest stirred in him for the first time. It was impossible to look on her silken skin without curiosity – to wonder how it would feel to smooth his hands over her body. And she sensed it; a smile curved her lush mouth.

“Pity,” she said softly. “I do not think I’d mind. I am Rei.”

“Camael.” He found speech strange.

In the divine sanctum, they shared thoughts as a matter of course. There were no secrets. But now, of course, he had one. And that troubled him. Not enough to make him step away, however. Not enough to send him fleeing through the Veil and to find his archangel and beg for forgiveness. He was only a foot soldier, he reasoned, one who followed orders. Nobody would notice this breach. Nobody would care.

The woman pulled her long hair forward, so it cloaked her breasts. He wished he were those tresses, teasing her nipples with each breath she took. The force of the longing astonished him; this must be the reason they proscribed wearing flesh. With it came such shocking need. This was the first time he had broken the taboo, and he reeled with inundation from all his senses.

Warmth blew across his skin. With some shock, he realized he’d not clothed his form, perhaps because she wore nothing. In the realm from whence he came, such things were not needed. Everything was light and shadow and complete intimacy with every other scion. And somehow that still felt impersonal compared to the heat of the sun overhead, the chirp and buzz of insects and the soft whistle of wind in the reeds.

It was too much, and he stumbled, dropping to his knees. Beauty stepped towards him, concern overcoming her amused caution. “Are you ill?”

“Merely . . . overwhelmed.”

“You truly do not spring from our world. Are you a god?” She seemed untroubled by that possibility.

Perhaps in her mythology, the gods regularly walked among humankind. Camael knew people entertained myriad theories about what beings populated the spirit world and the afterlife. None of them was correct, but it did not stop them from building complex theologies and rituals. Such practices offered comfort.

“No.”

“A messenger, then, for one of them.”

Near enough. Explanations would require more concentration than he could muster at the moment. He nodded.

“Is that why you’ve watched me? Need you to deliver me a message?”

“That I did for pleasure alone.”

“You would have me believe I own a beauty so great it distracted you from divine endeavours?”

“Yes.” And it was true.

Even now he longed to touch her, with a need so great it burned like an endless fire in his veins. His fingers curled. He had no experience with self-denial. In the sanctum there were no such desires. In comparison, sanctum existence was pure and sterile, all ideas with no passion to fuel them. He had never noticed the lack before.

He must pass the Veil again before he changed irrevocably. It would be uncivil to vanish without a word, but better than the alternative. Better than—

Oh.

Rei touched him. Her soft hand on his bare shoulder drove all thoughts from his mind. Longing surged through him in a maelstrom of bewildering heat. He had never been touched before. It did not matter that his physical body was only energy held together by his will. He still felt it, and that caress altered him forever.

“If that is so,” she murmured, “then surely I must reward you.”

His head spun, and all thought of escape fled his mind. “How?”

She pushed him back gently; it did not occur to him to resist. The bank beside the river cushioned him with soft grasses and moss. The tall reeds hid them from sight. Overhead, the sun shone gold, sweet and hot on his skin, and the sky blazed with a blue so fierce it filled him with wonder. He had watched her in innocent fascination, and she had caught him, against all expectation.