Shit, had he done it? Had he convinced Lux he wasn’t just the angel he appeared to be on the outside. That he was still a thoroughly passionate incubus?
The High Lord growled, low in his chest, and practically carried Severn to the bed. Severn made no argument when Lux left him there, and watched mutely as the demon kicked his door closed and turned, rapture in his eyes.
Oh gods, he’d done it all right. Maybe a bit too thoroughly.
Lux climbed into the bed, his wings raised above him, and stalked up Severn’s body, peeling off the remaining clothes, until he was eye-to-eye with Severn. He had the rabid look about him of pups who had abstained for too long, like forming words was too much effort and fucking was all he was good for.
“Lux—”
The demon pressed a finger to Severn’s lips, then with a smile, removed his finger and kissed him deeply. “More,” was all the incubus mustered, before trailing his mouth and tongue down Severn’s chest to encircle a nipple.
Severn let his eyes close, and Lux ventured lower. This hadn’t been part of his plan. But at least he’d be fully charged for the illusion, if Lux let him do it. Which seemed a whole lot more likely now the High Lord had his lips around Severn’s reinvigorated cock again.
What would Mikhail say if he learned Severn was fucking the High Lord? Would he be jealous? Perhaps it was best not to think on those things, seeing as Mikhail’s anger alone had the potential to be world-ending. He closed his eyes and pretended the mouth and tongue working him over was Mikhail’s. Lux wouldn’t know, too lost to the ether high to care. And Severn wasn’t far behind him.
Chapter 10
Mikhail
He stood on the London terrace rooftop, the one Severn had brought him to, and regarded the chimney stack rubble strewn about. He’d destroyed it, along with much of the house they’d shared, including the desk Severn had fucked him against. Taking his anger out on inanimate objects was supposed to make him feel better, but all it had done was make him emptier. Nothing helped.
The heavy flap of wings signaled an angel’s arrival behind him. He waited for whomever it was to speak, and when they didn’t, he glanced behind him to find Solo patiently waiting to be acknowledged.
Mikhail sighed. At least it wasn’t Vearn. He was sure she was in contact with Remiel. She’d probably been the one to summon him here to kill him or ship him off to Haven, where he’d no doubt slowly go insane without his mate. Maybe insanity would be better than this.
“Is the second wave ready to attack?” Mikhail asked.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Will you fuck me, Your Grace?
Mikhail ruffled his wings and rolled his shoulders, shaking out the tension and the terrible memory of Severn’s words. He stared at London’s twinkling skyline, just like Severn had shown him. There were more lights farther afield now. The humans had moved away. But their lives continued, all because angels protected them, as it had always been since time began.
Solo drew up alongside Mikhail. “It’s magical.”
“Yes,” Mikhail agreed reluctantly. “Angels, long ago, walked alongside humans. I wonder sometimes if we should again.” Severn had said that… Told him to get down to their level. He’d said a lot of things, strange things, different things—like implying how the correctioners weren’t saving cambions.
“Solo, I want you to visit the nearest correctioner facility, unannounced. Report if you find anything untoward.”
“Sire? Is there a problem?”
“I hope not.” He glanced over, and his thoughts stalled at the way the light softly touched Solo’s gentle ripples in his red hair and how it highlighted his green eyes. Had he always been so enchanting to admire? He shook off the odd thought and stared at London instead, but soon found his gaze wandering back. The breeze teased at Solo’s hair now and whispered its trailing edges across his red feathers.
Solo noticed the attention and turned his head. “Please, forgive me for asking this… but perhaps a few days away from the responsibility of all this”—he gestured at London—“might help?”
He’d snapped at Vearn for suggesting the same. “I’ll go insane,” he said, speaking the absolute truth. He barely clung to sanity now.
Solo turned toward him and tucked his wings in. “Your Grace, is there anything in your life besides war?”
“Like what?”
“Do you like to go anywhere, do anything, that isn’t related to warfare?”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
“Well, no, I imagine you don’t. But…