Dark Destiny (Dark Sentinel #1) - Lexxie Couper Page 0,77

And still he couldn’t move.

He stared at her, his blood roaring in his ears, his erection growing harder. He watched her lips curl into a small smile that revealed two short, pointed fangs. He watched her lower her head over his arm, the curtain of her midnight black hair cascading over her neck and shoulder to hide it from his view. He stared at the back of her head, his cock straining for release, his breath shallow.

The warm softness of her lips pressed to his wrist and a surge of liquid electricity shot straight through him. He tensed already taut muscles. His balls rose up closer to his body. His heartbeat tripled.

And then the tip of Fred’s tongue touched his wrist, her teeth pierced his flesh, and exquisite, elemental rapture exploded in his core.

He felt his blood flow from the wounds, felt her tongue bathe his wrist. He hissed in a breath through clenched teeth, every nerve ending in his body on fire. A surge of something carnal and primitive flooded into his groin and, unable to stop himself, he threw back his head and groaned, the sound as raw as the pleasure consuming him.

Fred’s lips moved over his wrist, her tongue lapping at his weeping vein. Her fingers dug into his arm, gripped it with fierce strength so opposite to the gentle administrations of her mouth before, with a soft hitching gasp, she jerked her head up.

She stared at him, her pale skin aglow with an inner light, her lips glistening red with his blood. “Holy…” She trailed away, her fingers still holding his wrist and arm.

Patrick pulled in a deep breath, forcing his body back under control. He felt like a violin string wound too tight, thrumming with so much tension it was sure to snap with just one more touch. “What?”

She didn’t answer him. Just stared at him with white-fire eyes.

“What?”

“You are of the Archangel’s line.”

The simple declaration, uttered in a voice choked with shock and reverence, punched Patrick in the chest. He pulled his arm from her fingers and took a step backward, the enormity of her statement filling him with…what? He dragged his hands through his hair, trembling, hot and cold at once, his throat tight, his chest heavy.

“Archangel. What does that mean? For fuck’s sake, I’m a borderline atheist. How could I be—”

“Michael,” she breathed, awe filling her voice. “You are from Michael’s line?”

He searched through his early years of Sunday school, back when his parents wanted to keep his grandparents happy by exposing him and Steven to some kind of religious upbringing. Vague memories of boring hot mornings in the local church’s annex listening to someone drone on about bible stories, wishing he was surfing instead. Even vaguer memories of Ven arguing a lot with the frazzled teacher.

“Michael the Archangel? Wasn’t he the main angel that supposedly fought Satan?” He frowned. “Some kind of warrior angel? You’re telling me I come from some kind of warrior archangel line?”

Her gaze held his. “Not some kind of line, Patrick. The line. You have the Archangel Michael’s blood in your veins.”

He stared at her.

“And in your soul.”

12

Amy looked at the man standing before her.

She wanted to throw up—again—but the last time she had, the man in the black suit had touched his fingers to her temples and pain like a metal spike drilling into her skull had erupted in her head. She’d screamed and pissed herself, and now here she was, in some horrible room filled with candles and the stench of disease, held by Raz in a cruel embrace, blood oozing from the puncture wounds in her neck left by his teeth.

She wanted to go home.

The man in the black suit ran his palm over her bare shoulder and a wall of nausea crashed over her. She gagged, turning her head to the side, not wanting to contemplate the punishment he would deliver if she vomited on him.

“It was very nice of Raziel to transform you, was it not?” His fingers slid along the line of her collarbone, dipping into the cleft between her breasts. “So much easier to bring you to me than when you were human, and I did so want to meet you in person.”

She rolled her eyes, her stomach lurching. She had no idea how she came to be here. One minute she’d been staring at herself in the bathroom mirror, tormented thoughts of Ven confusing her, the next Raz had burst through the door, skin blistered, fangs extended, and smashed