Touched by Death: (Sins of The Fallen book 3)

“Aurelia?”

At the sound of Amenadiel’s voice, I swivel around and almost crash into the console table behind me.

“Where are you going?”

I look back at the front door, wracking my brain. “I can’t remember.”

He descends the last step and slowly walks up to me, observing me closely as if he’s searching for something. I don’t dare look away.

When he stops in front of me, I watch his hand like a hawk as it slides up the length of my arm, over my shoulder. It pauses, burning a path through my skin, before he drops it to his side. “Unable to sleep?”

“I have a lot on my mind.”

“You shouldn’t be out there alone. The stalker…”

My throat jumps on a swallow. He’s nervous, and that makes me strangely jittery. “Is everything okay, Amenadiel?”

His eyes skate past me to the front door, and I follow his line of sight, confused when my gaze falls to the moonlight on the floor. The door was shut a moment ago, wasn’t it?

“Come on,” he says, steering me away from the silvery glow that seems to chase me down the hallway.

We enter the living room, and I skirt the bear rug on the floor, baring my teeth at its growling face.

Amenadiel chuckles. “It’s been dead a long time.”

Embarrassed, I look away and pretend to study the yard outside. Frost lines the edges of the window frame, and the icy chill feels fresh against my heated skin. As I bring my gaze to the flickering torch beside me, I sense him shifting closer. His shadow falls over me from behind, his magic flaring the flame on the wall before it burns lower, shadowed by his overwhelming presence. “She can’t reach you here.”This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

A crease forms between my brows as my eyes find his in the window. “Sorry?”

“Nothing,” he whispers, placing his fingers on my shoulder, almost tenderly, before gripping me a little tighter. I hold back a gasp, confused by the inner turmoil he evokes. His fingers slowly skim higher until, shifting closer, he hooks his fingers in my hair and moves the strands away from my neck.

Anticipation swirls in my stomach. Amenadiel holds my gaze in the reflective glass as he bends down.

To do what, I don’t know, because he stiffens before he can put me out of my misery.

“The fuck is this?”

Dread constricts my throat, like a snake coiled around it, when the torch flares brightly in response to the explosion of magic in the room. His wings slice the air, snuffing out the flame and descending the room into darkness. His hand comes around to palm my throat, and he presses his lips to my cheek, the deep timbre of his voice rumbling against my skin. “Who hurt you?”

“I followed my stalk—”

He pushes me away before I have a chance to finish the sentence. The torch flares back to life, and the fireplace crackles. With a growl, he burns a hole through the carpet while pacing back and forth. “Why the hell would you follow the stalker? Why put yourself in dangerous situations?”

Frowning, I open my mouth to speak, but he surges forward and bares his teeth.

“Don’t make me lock you up.”

I rear back. “Lock me up? Excuse me, but fuck you, Amenadiel!” As I try to shoulder past him, he curls his fingers around my arm and pulls me back, then shoves me against the cold window.

The cold air against the slick sweat on my neck is soon forgotten when he grips me by my throat. With his thumb pressed to the underside of my jaw, he tilts my lips closer to his snarling mouth. Every hard inch of him covers me, eliciting shivers that make me shudder.

“What are you doing, Amenadiel?” I ask, my breath ghosting his lips.

“I don’t know.” He shakes his head as if to clear the fog, then lowers his forehead to mine. “All I know is that you’re safe here.”

“Where’s here?” Seconds pass, maybe even minutes, while we breathe each other’s air.

“Between worlds.” His lips crash into mine, hungry and dominating. Sliding his hand around the back of my neck, he pulls me closer to his mouth. He yanks my skirt up above my waist at the same time. Falling to his knees, he buries his mouth between my legs and wrenches me closer by my hips. I let out a surprised gasp at the feel of his hot mouth sucking on my pussy through my panties.

“Look at me,” he demands. “Tell me you want me.”

I fly up in bed, breathing harshly. The thin sheet sticks to my bare thighs as I kick it off and roll out of bed. I collapse to the floor, causing the bedside table to topple over when I reach out to grab hold of it. Items crash to the floor, obnoxiously loud in the silent night.

The door flies open, and the candles in the room flare to life. Dmitriy crosses the floor in four strides and crouches down beside me as I snap my legs shut to hide my damp panties.

That’s when it dawns on me that I’m wearing his button-up shirt. Confused, I look down at it but soon meet his gaze when he tips my chin up with his fingers. “What happened?”

Your father ate me out in my sleep.

“Nothing.” I attempt to rise to my feet, but he scoops me up as though I weigh nothing and carefully lays me back down on top of his sheets before straightening up and running his eyes over my exposed legs. “I had a bad dream, is all.”

“Want me to stay with you?” he asks, cutting his dark eyes to me.

Swallowing my pride, I scoot over before climbing beneath the blanket. He crawls in beside me, pulls his T-shirt off, and throws it to the floor, then fluffs the pillow. When he’s settled, he rolls his head as the torches burn low.

Outside the window, the rain patters against the thin glass. I focus on the soothing sound as my eyes grow heavy again.

“You’ve had a difficult day,” he says after a while, the backs of his knuckles skimming my cheekbone. “Nightmares are bound to happen.”

“Why am I wearing your shirt?”

A soft sigh leaves him. “You were covered in blood.”

Humming, I roll over onto my stomach and burrow deeper into the pillow. It smells of Dmitriy and fresh linen.