Court of Sunder (Age of Angels #2) - Milana Jacks Page 0,18
Lucifer took her.
I climbed the steps.
“Hey,” the woman at the bar shouted. “Where the fuck are you going?”
“I have a lady upstairs.”
“What about us?”
“I will return after midnight.”
“Nothing good happens after midnight,” she said.
I kept climbing. “Indeed.” My Court thrived on my strength, and I thrived on their collective energy, something Michael should’ve considered before he ripped off my wings and imprisoned me.
I forgot the towels. I turned and found Mary Ann coming up after me. She carried a tray with water and broth over the towels. I took the items.
“I sent someone to fetch clean clothes, my lord. It won’t be long.”
“How old is your baby?” I asked.
She widened her eyes, probably surprised that I knew. A nursing mother’s energy positively shone around her. I could pick up mothers from crowds of mortal women just by their invisible shine and also by the dark marks under their eyes as the day’s work with the baby and general life tired them.
“He’s nine months, my lord.”
“Gabriel would protect him. Choose wisely. Gabriel can’t protect you from Lucifer.”
She shook her head.
“I would hate to see you marching with the Marked.”
“Marked or what you have in mind, makes no difference to me. The moment you stepped foot in my place, I knew evil had come to claim our souls.”
“You’re wrong. I do not claim souls.” I proceeded up the stairs. “You have until midnight to decide. After that, I will not protect you.” Balancing the tray on top of the towels, I entered the room and found the mortal sleeping inside the bath. I closed the door quietly and placed the tray on the bed, then got a towel. I approached the bath and scanned her body. Nevaeh had breasts as large as her body could carry without breaking her spine. Her hips made a heart as they extended into legs with large, strong thighs.
With her legs resting against the bath’s sides, I saw between them. I saw far more than I should. Like a thief, I lingered, stealing a sight of her nude form. The sight that stirred my blood and directed it to my groin, where I grew hard, my sacs enlarging, filling with seed.
A deeper survey of her body revealed old breaks. I fixed the bone in her small toe that had healed wrong from a breakage in the Before, and a thought occurred to me. She must be exhausted to have fallen asleep in the water. Had I not returned, she could’ve drowned, and besides, she’d lost her grip on the knife. The knife, I presumed, had fallen out of the hand draped over the tub.
Mortals needed to come with a care manual. Displeased with my misstep on how to care for a mortal, I barked, “Soldier.”
Nevaeh leapt up, splashing water on the floor. “Yes, Commander!”
I opened my mouth to chastise her for sleeping, but couldn’t utter a single word.
She covered her nudity with her hands.
“Your hands are far too small to cover you.” I handed her a towel. “Bigger hands would do the job.”
She wrapped the towel around her body and stepped out of the tub. Clearing her throat, she looked around at the walls. “What time is it?”
“Almost midnight.”
She sat on the bed and picked up the broth, drinking from the bowl even though Mary Ann had placed a spoon on the tray.
The chipped gold paint on her fingernails matched the color on her toes. In general, soldiers didn’t care for painted nails, so this was interesting. Perhaps it made her feel more feminine as she went about her day dressed in a plain boring uniform and wrapped breasts. She finished the broth, and I put the tray on the dust collected over the single desk in the room.
I approached her, wedged a knee between her legs, and parted them. “If you like me at my worst, you’ll love me at my best. Therefore, I shall do my best to become more.” The clock ticked, announcing midnight. “To the new dawn.”
I expected her to repeat the words back to me, but she said, “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Neither will your commander.” I left, slamming the door behind me.
Chapter 7
Due to Lord Raphael’s healing waters rejuvenating my body, I made it through the night with no sleep, which was both a blessing and curse. A blessing, for I didn’t dream. A curse, for it allowed me time to think about why Lord Raphael had returned to the room. Perhaps only to drop off food and towels,