To Hell and Back, page 24
I guess it’s just a habit to eat regular food, even though it tastes worse than it did before I knew the pleasure of drinking pure souls. Yet Lucifer tends to have big dinners. I wonder why…? No, I don’t. Today is only Michael and nothing else. How many times do I need to repeat to myself that?
Suddenly, I don’t feel like eating anymore.
By the sound of things, Will is in the gym, so I won’t bother to say hello…or goodbye, for that matter. To my benefit, Mom has already left for work. I doubt she’d be happy to know I won’t be home until tomorrow morning.
Michael is waiting for me outside, wearing a cheerful smile. “Did you sleep well?” He kisses my hair.
“Yes,” I lie. He opens the passenger door and motions for me to sit, so I do.
When Michael slides into the driver’s seat, he looks with concern at my jeans before asking, “It’s healed so quickly?” He sounds surprised.
“No, Samael healed me.” There’s no point in denying it. “After I broke my hand punching him,” I quickly add to ease his worry.
“You punched him?” He grins, probably imagining the situation.
“It’s not funny, Michael! You could’ve told me that angels are hard like rocks.” I glare at him.
He starts the car and pulls into traffic before I finally managed to ask, “What did God promise you if I fell in love with you?”
His jaw clenches. “Sometimes, I think my brother is a four-year-old child.” They are brothers… Why didn’t I think about it before? All angels are brothers and sisters (are there any sisters?). So, I’m dating…an uncle? No, I’m not going to ruing this day.
“Is that because of your wings?” I ask, returning to the original question.
He takes a couple of deep breaths. “When I lost the war against Lucifer, my father punished me. He took my wings and powers away, stripping me of my archangel status and giving me one of the lowest angel ranks. You would’ve liked my wings. But…it’s like a limb of my body was ripped off. I was devastated. But then, Father gave me a second chance. He doesn’t tend to give second chances, but I saw that he was desperate. Father promised to return my wings and powers if I would go to Earth and wait for you. I wasn’t sure where to look, and I didn’t much want to be connected to the daughter of Lucifer.” I think I gasp when he stops talking.
“But that all changed the first day you came to my class. You looked so innocent, so lovely, so beautiful that I couldn’t take my eyes from you. It was so easy to fall in love with you. I don’t know what Father’s plan was, but I couldn’t keep thanking him for meeting you, Lucy. I was afraid you would leave me if I told you that. Please, my love, I’ve never wanted to hurt you. Can you forgive me?”
I keep quiet, trying to process his words.
“Please, say something,” he pleads.
“Yes.”
“You forgive me?” He sounds unsure.
“I forgive you,” I repeat, and I mean it. I don’t blame him because I would’ve done the same in his place.
“Thank you. I love you so much. I wouldn’t be able to live without you. The last time you left me, I—”
“Shh. I’m here, Michael, and I don’t intend on going anywhere.” I place my hand on his shoulder. His body relaxes and a small smile reached his lips.
“Where are you driving me?” I ask as he turns in the opposite direction of the hotel.
“I thought we would visit the Met, as some mortal couples do.”
“I don’t want any museums.” Who cares about museums these days, anyway? The only thing I want is him, and I don’t want to delay that any longer.
“Where do you want to go, then?”
“Your room. I know a game we can play.” I grabbed a stack of cards from home for exactly this purpose.
“Is that so?”
“You will beg me to stop.” I mirror his arrogant tone, unable to stop smiling.
“We’ll see about that, my love.” I’ll never tire of hearing these words.
Later, we start laughing about something I’ve already forgotten. I can’t keep myself from talking, and Michael has a hard time staying serious.
Soon enough, he parks the car at the hotel and comes around to the passenger door.
“My lady.” He holds out a hand for me to take.
“I think you would’ve been a great knight.” I grin at him as he helps me out of the car.
“In fact, I was.”
“Really?”
“It was for a couple of years before mortals started asking questions. But yes, I was a knight for the queen of the Scots.”
“Mary Stuart?” I can’t hide my awe.
“What, you know of her?” he asks as we enter the main entrance and head toward the elevator.
“I read about her. She seems like a great leader.”
“She was.”
“You certainly had an interesting life on Earth,” I point out as we enter the elevator with a small group of people. They don’t bother to look at us—they’re busy discussing the news and politics. Nerds.
“Not until I met you.” He kisses my forehead.
Michael’s arm circles my waist as we leave the elevator and head to his room. I can’t keep myself from smiling like a total moron who has just recently understood what love is and doesn’t intend to let it go for a second. I’m serious about being in his embrace forever!
He closes the door behind us and turns to me with a grin. “So, what game are we talking about?”
“Go to the bed.”
“So soon?” His smile stretches, and I roll my eyes.
I pull out the pack of card and show it to him. “I’m warning you. I’m good at this.”
“I’m sure you are.”
“Are you being sarcastic with me?”
“Maybe?”
“So much confidence, huh?”
“As always, my love.”
Grabbing his hand, I drag him to the bed.
I take my shoes off and sit on one side of the bed while he sits across. “Have you play Durak before?” He shakes his head. “I’ll give you a quick tutorial, then.”
“Go ahead.”
“It’s a Russian card game. Sophia, our housekeeper, showed me how to play it. So, each player gets six cards from the shuffled deck, which always faces down. I can’t see your cards; you can’t see mine. A single card is drawn and placed face up next to the deck. It’s the last card, but it’s also the family of cards that can beat any others. Highest card beats the lowest, but only if it’s in the same family: ten of spades will beat six of spades, and so on. But if you don’t have spades, for example, then you can use the special card and it won’t matter if it’s a higher card or not. If you have neither, then you take the card I attacked you with. You have six cards or more, but no fewer. Then…sorry, I’m really bad at explaining.”
“No, I get it.” He brushes my cheek with his thumb, and I flush. “What’s the catch?” He knows me too well.
“The catch is...” I grin at him. “Every time you take my card, you have to take off one piece of your clothing.” He starts laughing, and I slap him in the chest. “If you don’t want to play, then it’s not too late to get to the Met.”
“I’m good here.”
“Why are you still laughing, then?” I raise my eyebrows, trying to be a serious lady.
“Did Sophia teach you that rule as well?” I flush again.
“No, and you know that.” I point my finger at him. “Are you ready to lose?”
“Just to you, my love.” His grin still didn’t leave his face. Asshole! But he’s my asshole, and mine alone.
I shuffle the deck, give myself and Michael six cards each, and then place a single card face up next to the deck. The heart is a special card.
He looks at his cards but doesn’t give anything away. I look at mine and frown, as this isn’t the best combination: no hearts, and the rest are low spades and clubs. “Okay, I’m starting.” I attack him with the six of spades. He beats it with the king of spades.
I grab a new card from the deck—spades again! He draws a card and focuses on his hands, thinking about his next move. I’m already regretting not wearing any jewelry. That would count as clothing, I guess.
He attacks me with the six of heart. I glare at him. “Already losing, my love?” I stick out my tongue and grab a card.
He’s waiting for a show, but I take off my socks and drop it on the floor beside the bed. He smirks. “My turn again.” He draws a card from the deck and attacks me without even looking at it.
“You do know how to play this game, don’t you?” I scowl at him, as I didn’t say anything about skipping a turn if you take a card.
“I lived in Russia for quite a bit.” He looks at me apologetically. “Are you beating me or taking a beating?”
“I can still win.”
“Sure,” he says sarcastically, and oh, boy, I’m going to win this game now to get to him.
But not when he attacks me with the ten of hearts. I’m forced to take that one, too. He grins. Well, now I have two special cards to use against him. We’ll see who loses now.
I start unbuttoning my shirt, but he leans forward and stops me. “I’ll do it.” I place my hands by my sides, and he slowly starts to unbutton my shirt while keeping his eyes locked on mine.
He leans even closer, so that his lips touch my neck, and then he goes lower, following the path of the buttons. “That’s not fair,” I growl as his lips get to my belly and I’m forced to lean back.
“I never said anything about being fair.” He takes my shirt off, leaving me in the thin blue bra.
“You’re stealing my lines.” I don’t really mind, though.
His hungry gaze moves lower, and that’s the main reason I picked Victoria’s Secret in the first place. “I yield,” he murmurs. He leans toward me again, but I hold up my hand to stop him.
“One more round,” I tell him knowingly, as this is the one I’m going to win.
He leans back, grabs a new card from the deck, and attacks me with it while keeping his arrogant smile and hungry stare on me.
Eight of spades. I can beat that easily. And I do.
Then it’s my turn to attack him with the jack of clubs. I can’t keep myself from celebrating the small victory as he takes a card.
He follows my steps and takes his socks off first.
I go again with the ten of heart he used to attack me before. Michael smiles and takes the card. “Are you losing intentionally?”
“Yes. No. Maybe?” he shrugs. “Hey!” He protests as I grab his cards. They’re all hearts! For God’s sake…can I be good at something here?
“You said something about yielding?” He nods, and I throw the cards from the bed to the floor. Then I grab Michael’s shirt and pull him toward me.
I tug his shirt off, revealing the chest I like so much. His hands move behind my back as my lips find his.
Like electricity flowing through my body: that’s how his every touch feels as he moves from my lips to my neck, lightly tugging on my hair and moving my head back to give him better access.
I push him so that he collapses on the bed, and then I’m on top of him. He grins as I unzip his jeans and remove them with surprising ease. I add them to the pile of clothes on the floor.
I run my tongue from his bellybutton to the top of his chest. He groans. Using his superspeed—or whatever it is—he flips us so that I end up on the bottom and he’s on top of me. “My turn,” he purrs while kissing my neck. I groan in protest but it quickly grows into a moan as he lightly bites my skin while sucking, probably leaving me with hickeys.
He quickly gets rid of my jeans. His lips slowly move toward my thighs. I moan as he spreads my legs apart so his lips can get closer to the edge of my panties.
He stops and moves to my lips again, where his tongue easily claims my mouth and body. I feel his lower part tensing and pushing on my thigh. “Please, let me make love to you.” He stops, waiting for my response, giving me a choice.
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
He makes love to me on the bed, on the floor, in the shower (that’s my favorite), but it’s not enough for me or for him: we can barely restrain ourselves. If someone asked what Heaven is like, I would say it’s to be in the arms of your loved ones so that time flies as fast as your heartbeat—as fast as your breathing when his lips are on your body. I want more of him on me and in me, and it will never be enough.
With great difficulty, we get to the restaurant on the first floor of the hotel. I remember how we grinned at each other while trying to put our clothes back, but then one of us took them off again and we ended up back where we started. We nearly ended up doing it in the elevator!
“What are you thinking about?” He’s sitting across from me—believe me, we need some distance now—with a boyish smile on his face.
“I don’t think that’s appropriate to say out loud in a public place.” If only he knew what I’m thinking about…
He tells me there are no female angels—talk about sexism! Anyway, apparently, I’m a rare case in many ways: daughter of Lucifer, angel born to a mortal mother. He keeps telling me, though, that I’m more than angel—much more.
Nephilim are the children of Watchers (a type of angel) and mortals. They disappeared a long time ago, when God got very angry about their existence—Michael says that Nephilim are very dangerous. But he also says that I’m not one, even though my mother is mortal. Honestly, he’s just confused me even more.
“Lobster and crab risotto, cheesecake, and a bottle of your finest white wine.” Michael hands our menus to the waiter.
“And what would madame would like to eat?” Did I just age ten years for him to call me madame!? Well, it sounds better than child, but still…this waiter can’t be older than twenty-three himself!
“She’ll have the same.” I don’t protest, as his taste is fine with me Especially the wine—not that I’m alcoholic, of course. I just love white wine. I guess he knows me THAT well.
The waiter mumbles something polite and leaves our table.
“If you don’t need to eat mortals’ food, why do you still do it?”
“I’ve lived among people for so long that it’s become a habit. Plus, sometimes a good chief can make even human food satisfying.” I nod in understanding—although I don’t really get it.
For the first time ever, I can’t help but be the happiest woman (plus-minus one day) in the universe. He is so handsome, and maybe I’ll never understand why he loves me when his father never asked him to do anything but pretend…but he does, and I couldn’t be happier. If—most likely when—I meet God, I’ll yell at him about what’s happened but then thank him for bringing the love of my life to me.
“What’s wrong, my love?” he asks. I realize that my smile has left my face.
“Have you ever wondered about our future?” I mean God’s plans, Lucifer’s plans, and all these unknown plans that have somehow been made for us without our consent. Does Hell (Heaven) has lawyers? No, seriously, I need my rights here!
He understands my question perfectly. “I don’t want to think about the future—because if I do, I won’t enjoy our time together while it lasts.” He takes my hand in his. “I don’t want to think there will be a moment where I lose you.” A single tear rolls down his cheek.
Gosh, I’ve never seen him cry. I’ve never thought it would be possible.
I wipe the tear away and caress his cheek, caring less about the awkwardness of the table between us and the possibility that it could break if I lean any closer. “You won’t.” He gives me a slight smile, and I lean back before we draw too much attention.
My phone buzzes. “Sorry, I have to take it.” I smile apologetically at Michael and answer the call.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Where are you!?” She sounds angry. She didn’t even say hi to me!
“I’m staying with my boyfriend today. I’ll be back tomorrow morning.” Michael’s smile stretches, showing his perfect white teeth. I haven’t mentioned that I plan to stay all night, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“Is your father with you?”
“Will?”
“Yes. Who else!?” Jeez, relax. These days, it’s impossible to tell if we’re talking about the same person.
“No. Did you—”
“Never mind, here he is.” I hear a man’s voice, but I’m sure it’s not William’s.
“Are you—”
“See you tomorrow.” And she hangs up abruptly.
Okay…what was that?
Michael looks at me with concern as I turn off my phone so no more weird calls can disturb this day. “What did you say about enjoying our time together?” I roll my eyes at the irony of his earlier words.
“If it’s important, I can drive you ho—”
“No. Today is not the day to think about the future.” I squeeze his hand as our risotto arrives.
Chapter 27
I open my eyes to the most beautiful view: Michael’s face. “How long have you been awake?” I raise my eyebrows because I know he’s been watching me sleep.
“A while.” He grins and kisses me. Too quickly, his lips leave mine. “I have a gift for you.”
I groan. “How do you know about my birthday?”
“I know a lot about you.” Right…
“You didn’t have to buy me anything. You are the best gift I could wish for.” I’ve hated my birthdays from the time I was six. But if I need a gift, then please wrap up the sexy guy beside me and it will be the best present ever.
“Then I have two gifts for you.” He grins and kisses me even more passionately but then pulls away quickly.
I roll my eyes and rise from the bed with a groan. I’m in my underwear and one of Michael’s long-sleeved button-up shirts. After we came from the restaurant, he was overly enthusiastic and ripped my shirt. I don’t blame him; I actually bit his lip too hard, but now it seems to be healed. I felt more comfortable sleeping in his shirt anyway. Not that I got much sleep. Seriously, it feels like a freaking honeymoon. But I’m not complaining.
