66. WEN

At my frantic shout, Godric looks down at me, and his eyes are even more different, as if each is a window into an opposing universe.

Though I’ve never seen him, or even imagined him looking like that, it’s like I know him this way.

Shaking my head at the weird familiarity, I try to explain my theory, and he bears down on me again. His even larger size makes me feel more of a helpless doll for this ruthless god, to be taken, played with, used, in any way his merciless whims dictate.

While disturbing, the idea has arousal clenching inside me so hard, another rush of liquid heat soaks my pants through.

Focus, Wen. Get fucked later. Now stop this fucking mess.

I pound on his chest, trying to snap him out of it, too. “Did you hear me? I said this must be Angelescence! It’s the only explanation. You’re all under its effect!”

He only rumbles a terrifying chuckle. “If we are, then everyone we interrogated while we trailed you was right. It’s the best bloody thing in Existence.”

“Okay. This clinches it. This has to be Angelescence. Nothing else is this potent. It must be in the air, since it’s affecting everyone. Everyone but me, because I’m the only one it doesn’t affect.”

He starts grinding into me again, in the perfect pressure and cadence. “And how is it affecting us? I haven’t seen anyone attempt to commit suicide yet.”

The memory of those who did under its effect stabs in my guts. I writhe beneath him, getting desperate to make him stop and listen. “No one around is a regular human like my customers. But you’re all exhibiting inexplicable yet different symptoms, according to your race. Your disinhibition must be how it affects Angelbloods. As for Demonbloods, Jinny almost tore herself to shreds.”

“Too bad she didn’t complete the job Azazel started.”

“Godric!”

As if Jinny’s mention killed his mood, he releases me and sits up, a frown erasing his eerie cheerfulness. “Still defending your demon, my bane? You’re sorely mistaken if you think of her as a ‘frenemy.’ She might be the underdog here, but you have no idea what she is, or what she’s capable of. It would be best for you, and for your Sarah, if she is taken out. If I didn’t believe it was not in my best interests, I would do it without a second thought.”

Taking advantage of not having a monster-sized Godric pinning me down, I scramble to my feet. “Godawful, we gotta get you sobered up. The whole Afterworld can’t afford for you to let your monster out.”

Still lounging on the ground like a god of savage decadence and carnality, he drags me to him by my thighs. “But you need my monster, my bane. It’s the only thing that will satisfy your endless hunger.” His hand slips between my ass cheeks from the back, just as he bites down on my pussy lips. I almost come right there and then. “But since I won’t be holding back, or taking pity on your oblivious novice status, I’ll prime you with a few orgasms first.”

Pressing down on the chain reaction, I push at him. “Godric, no! If I cause another quake, I might bring the whole place down.”

He lets me stagger away and rises, dwarfing me as he scoffs. “And you think I’d care, why?”

“Okay, that’s it. You’re nuts. Everyone has been going nuts all night. I thought you’d be immune, but clearly not.”

“I’m immune to everything but you.” One hand almost spans my waist as he slams me back against him. “I’ll show you?—”

I swing my own hand with all my strength against his cheek.

Pain explodes up my arm and through my nervous system.

Fuck. Fuck. I splintered every bone in my hand.

At least I surprised him enough he let me go.

As I hold my broken hand to my chest and hop around with the first scorch of agony, he raises a quizzical eyebrow. “You slapped me.”

“I’ll do far worse if you don’t answer me.” I shred the words between gritted teeth. “Where do you store the Angelescence I’ve been making you?”

“You think I’d tell you that?”

“That’s the secret you draw the line at, Godawful? But you can keep this one. I only want you to tell me it’s secure.”

“It’s secure,” he says, doing an uncanny job of parroting me.

I throw my hands up. “You pick now to discover joking? And the concept of humoring others?”

“I’d rather maim anyone than humor them. But I would do it for you. I would do anything for you.”

“You make that sound terrifying.”

“Oh, it is. Absolutely so. I did warn you of the consequences of your actions.”

“Well, all I want you to do for me now is answer me.”

He inclines his head in concession. “There’s no way any being in the Afterworld can find it. Satisfied?”

“Like Hell I am,” I grit as the fire of healing rushes through my bones.

His leash is around my neck again, and without even realizing how, I’m on my belly again, and he’s on top of me.

“Let me rectify this, my bane. I’ll satisfy you to the very precipice of perishing, pull you back from the brink, then start all over again.”

Everything darkens as brutal desire tears into me.

But I can’t give in, must resist, focus, think.

If the Angelescence I made for him isn’t the culprit, then …

My bottle!

“Get off me!”

“Not until I get you off.”

“Yeah, yeah, now you can’t stop talking dirty to me. The one time I don’t want you to. Get off me, Godawful or I will yank the Life Essence out of you and leave you to sleep this high off under the trampling feet of this hallucinating herd!”

“As if you can. As if I’d let you. But I will humor you, if you tell me why.”

“I want to go to the bathroom, that’s why.”

For some reason, after all we’ve been through, and all the times I promised myself I’d tell him about it, I still can’t bring myself to tell him about my bottle.

But if it’s damaged, and Lorcan’s Angelescence has been seeping out and causing this mass psychosis, I have to find a way to dispose of it, before this escalates any further.

With one last grind that almost makes me forget about everything and let him do anything he wants to me, he levitates off me, taking me up with him.

“Don’t make me drag you back, White.”

Like he did my first day in the Academy, when I didn’t do my business in a timely enough manner for his Godawfulness.

“If you dare use your leash on me again, I’m bringing you down a peg or two. I’m yanking out more of your Energy, and keeping it. Mani needs company.”

His lips spread in a grin that makes me want to eat them. And those dimples. “I’ll let you pretend that you can do that again. Come back quickly, and I promise to make you come harder than you ever thought possible, without making you beg—too much.”

Fucking Hell. Is this the real Godric, without inhibitions? If it is, I want to throw myself into this side of him and never resurface. I want to drown in the freedom and sensuality and menace of it all.

If I weren’t certain this would devolve into an even bigger mess, I would have. There’s nothing more I want than to beg for him.

Before I give in anyway, I bolt away.

This place turns out to be even larger than I thought. My activity tracker says I ran for a mile before I found a bathroom.

I hurtle inside a stall, and fumble my shirt then magic bra off, before slumping against the wall.

The bottle is intact.

Then what the Hell is going on here?

Is it possible everyone is just drunk, and that’s the regular effect of the Nephilim-grade booze?

No. The older cadets never reported going crazy under its effects. If they did, we would have heard of injuries and destruction every time they came here.

This has to be Angelescence.

Could I be producing it on auto now? Without even realizing I’m doing it? Could this be another leap in my powers?

That would be really peachy. Not only do I have Null powers that can suck the Energy and Life Essence out of Supernatural bystanders, but I might make them lose their fucking minds while at it.

If so, then what Godric said that first day was true. That I am potentially one of the most dangerous beings to have ever existed.

I hope I’m wrong, and there’s another, easier-to-deal-with explanation. I refuse to think my luck is that bad.

But since it probably is, I have to return to Godric, and fast. Not because I’m afraid he’d leash me back, but because I shouldn’t leave him unsupervised in his condition.

Kicking myself that I didn’t make him come with me, I run out of the expansive bathroom—and slam into a wall of muscle and maleness.

Relief floods me, for about a millisecond. Because it’s not him.

It’s Isaiah.

Gah. Not again.

Eyes gone totally muddy, his hands clamp both my arms. “You will listen to me, Wen White. I’ve been fascinated by you from the first time I saw you. I knew you were special, even in our world. If it weren’t for Godric’s orders not to come near you, I would have done this long before now. But I no longer care what he says, or that he’s my superior. I want you.”

I gape up at him, thinking that maybe I should be flattered. This is the first time a male, let alone someone like him, complimented me. But right now, his words inject me with anxiety. Not only because he’s not in his right mind, but because?—

Isaiah’s howl explodes all over me, rupturing one of my eardrums.

Moments of pain and disorientation pass before I understand what happened. When I do, I almost double over, like the nephilim before me, as I watch Godric spit away the hand he’d just ripped off him—with his teeth.

Godric looks down at him in absolute serenity, reminding me of the nonchalant expressions great felines have while eviscerating their kill.

“I did tell you I’d remove your hand, Isaiah.”

I gape at him in shock as he swats Isaiah away like an empty soda can, his mismatched eyes sweeping over me in a wave of sin and insanity.

Licking his dripping-in-blood lips, a rumble revs deep in his chest, shaking the hall like an earthquake as his gaze stops at my crotch.

“Now, for these orgasms.”