XXXVIII

R aphael blinked at her owlishly. "I'm sorry, did I miss something? At what point did you become a Vrana?"

Stella flushed. "When I delivered your blood to them. That was my incentive."

He remained silent as he digested the information, his gaze drifting around the small living space. The boxes make more sense.

"Are you mad?"

Raphael found himself shaking his head. "Relieved. The protection of a Royal Household isn't something to turn your nose up at." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "That's three times you've come to the rescue."

"Three?" Her head quirked to the side.

"First in the hall, then the Ether, and now again." Color rushed to fill her cheeks. The sight held Raphael captive, as did Stella's weak attempt at rebuttal. He kissed her knuckles again. "You're an angel."

The rosy hue intensified on her skin. A fluttering sensation erupted in his stomach, amplified by a burst of anticipation through the bond.

"Does that make you my devil?"

His mouth dried at the dip in her voice to a husky tenor. Before he knew what he was doing, he had an arm wrapped around her waist and was hauling them both to their feet. Stella gasped. Her free hand came to rest against the middle of his chest, just above his soulmark.

Their eyes met.

Raphael's blood surged as he watched Stella's throat bob.

"Yes," Raphael hissed. "I am your devil."

Their lips met in a frantic crash. Teeth bumped clumsily against one another before a subtle shift from both parties aligned them in perfect symmetry. A heady, breathy noise exited Stella. The warmth of her breath coasted over Raphael's mouth in innocent seduction.

His hands flew to her waist and hoisted her up. Stella didn't miss a beat. Her legs wrapped around his waist as she attacked his mouth with new fervor. Fingers scaled his neck and delved into his hair. Stella held herself close to him, little noises of longing sneaking out of her as he began to move them hurriedly to her bedroom.

Raphael let out little oomphs and curses as he bumped into the side of the loveseat and boxes. Her beaded doorway clattered as he swatted it away.

He let out a double curse as he walked straight into the foot of her bed.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," Raphael responded through gritted teeth and leaned forward to set her on the end of the bed.

"Are you sure?" She panted, slowly scooting back and up the bed. "You still have the cuts on your chest and arm."

"Positive." Raphael stripped off his shirt. Stella's pupils dilated as her lips remained parted with a small pant.

"We're doing this?" she asked breathlessly. "Like, really doing this?"

Raphael's hands, already having undone his belt, paused. He leveled her with a scorching stare. "Yes," he ground out as he whipped the belt from his waist and tossed it to the side. "And it's about bloody time."

Her bottom lip found its way between her teeth.

"Take off your clothes." Her eyes widened. The hitch in her breath was almost visible as her chest filled and held with breath. Raphael placed one knee on the edge of the bed and leaned forward. "Do as I say, Stella. Take. Off. Your. Clothes."

She hesitated a moment more before a wave of lust rammed into him from her side of the bond. Raphael groaned at the delicious onslaught. The way it sent pinpricks across his skin and heightened his senses. Stella's hands went to the bottom of her shirt and pulled it off gracefully. Next came her creamy, lace bra. Glorious alabaster skin greeted him. Raphael knew it would rival the finest silk, most especially her twin mounds. The peaks begged to be tasted.

Who was he to refuse such a generous invitation?

Raphael began to advance when Stella stopped him with a single look. Her gaze was heavy-lidded, cheeks and chest flushed as she kept her eyes locked on him and began to remove her other clothes. Shoes first, then socks. She leaned back onto her elbows and lifted her hips to shimmy out of her pants. And last, a dainty baby blue thong.

The world went out of focus as she tossed the garment aside.

"Now you."

Fuck.

Her voice was still pitched in that low and husky note. It came effortlessly to her, and Raphael was almost certain she had no idea she was doing it. There was an air of innocence around her. All that silky, pale skin luminous in the warm overhead light added to her angelic disposition.

Then he caught the wanton glint in her eyes, and all thoughts of innocence fled.

Raphael's pulse quickened. His cock throbbed in mutual agreement.

He followed her previous lead, toeing off his shoes and then removing his socks. Next, his pants and briefs. Her unwavering stare had his cock painfully erect.

"Open your legs," he commanded. A devilish pleasure consumed him as her flush spread down her body. Her legs inched open. "Wider."

Double-fuck.

The apex of her thighs was already glistening with arousal, making her pretty pink pussy look even more appetizing. Raphael advanced like a wolf on the prowl, crawling onto the bed. He stopped between her thighs and lowered himself.

"I hope you don't mind." Raphael took a vulgar taste of her, mirroring her heavy-lidded gaze. "I'm ravenous."

Stella mewled, back arching to thrust her tits high in the air.

Raphael didn't bother to hide his smirk and relished in the whimpered cry that came from her as he blew against her soaking sex.

"Raphael, please."

His gut tightened at the plea, and then he buried his face between her legs. His appetite grew leaps and bounds once the tangy, hot taste of her settled on his tongue. While Raphael dined like a king, arms sliding under and around her legs to keep her close, Stella's hands were reaching toward him. Her fingertips grazed the top of his head.

Warm, lithe fingers wrapped around a horn. Raphael's hips bucked instinctively, and he let out a feral growl. The world pitched sideways as her thumb stroked absently over the curve of it. The scent of her intensified, rich and seductive. Even the taste of her magnified.

Raphael never let anyone touch his horns during sex. It was too overstimulating. Too distracting. Yet Stella's touch was adoring. The entire experience of pleasuring her drove him to new heights simply because of their bond, and now this caress? A shiver rolled throughout Raphael's body as he dived back into his feast. Stella's grip tightened as he let his tongue circle her clit.

When he tried to pull back, she made a noise of protest and guided him back.

"Like that, do you?" he murmured against her swollen flesh.

Raphael adjusted an arm to hold her right thigh in a kind of lock. It was the only way for his hand to reach around and spread her lips open wider. Raphael laved attention on her unobstructed clit, suckling and gently raking his teeth over the oversensitive bud until she was writhing uncontrollably.

Her body began to tense—bit by bit, limb by limb.

Which is when Raphael pulled away, removing the hold he had around her thigh to pry her hand off his horn. Stella let out a sound akin to a sob.

"Hush now, love," he said, no remorse present in his voice as he started to kiss his way up her body. "The only place you're going to cum is on my cock."

Raphael paused as he reached her breasts, showering each with enough attention to keep Stella precariously on the edge of her release.

"You're being mean," Stella whimpered when he finally lay above her fully. His forearms held him only slightly above her, allowing their bodies to brush against each other.

Allowing their soulmarks to brush against one another.

Raphael nearly collapsed at the euphoria that set off fireworks within him. His eyes rolled back as he gasped for breath. Lightning shot through his veins. Desire ran rampant. Nothing in the world could have torn him away from her at that moment. Raphael had never felt so aware of himself. Of every minute detail and sensation, or the pure rightness of being with her.

When he came back to his ravaged senses, propping himself higher above her, he couldn't stop himself from gazing down at her. Stella's pupils were completely blown out. The barest sliver of crystal blue framed fathomless black.

Her fingers alighted over his chest, tracing a shaky path to his heart. Raphael found himself trembling under her touch. For that brief and blinding moment where their soulmarks touched, he'd gotten an unfiltered glimpse of what their binding might be. He caught her hand and pressed it flat against his heart, letting her feel its rapid pace. Then, he began to drag it down his chest.

"Do it," he commanded.

"Are you sure?"

"I've never been more certain of anything in my life. I need you. I want you." He released her hand just before it reached its mark. "Make me yours, and I'll make you mine." Raphael reached down and poised himself at her slick entrance.

Stella's gaze sharpened on him. The thick fog of lust he felt roiling from her tampering some as she pulled herself back to clarity. She gave a nod, and Raphael snapped his hips forward to seat himself fully within her.

His deep groan of pleasure at the warmth that lovingly wrapped around him spiked as her hand traveled the final distance to his soulmark. The world fell to the wayside around them as Stella's husky voice slipped over them.

"I bind myself to you, Raphael."

Raphael's head dropped to her shoulder with a cry as their bond cinched into something unbreakable. He'd anticipated pleasure, and while it did surge through him, there was also brightly burning magic. The very center of his being felt as if it had been thrust into a forge and then plunged into water.

For the first time in his life, he felt whole .

The realization made him tremble anew.

"Raphael?" Stella's hand was off his soulmark—it had been, he realized, for some time. Her hands climbed up his chest to his neck, then further still to cup his face and turn it toward her. "Raphael?"

He stared down at her, breathing harshly and still buried to the hilt inside her. Her hair splayed around her like a halo.

"You are an angel," Raphael professed. He dipped his head and kissed her softly. " My angel."

She melted under him. Their lips moved together languidly, but not for long. Stella squirmed beneath him, her desire once more igniting a fever pitch in the bond. Her hands moved to grip the back of his neck. The state of her kisses grew more frantic.

Raphael steeled himself against her mounting lust even as the walls of her quim gripped him like no other.

"Gods above and below," Raphael cursed.

She was drenched. With every slight movement, her pussy clamped down on him. Raphael hastened to grip her waist and still her squirming.

"Hold on a minute, love." He huffed out a laugh when she didn't listen. "Stella, give me a minute, or I'm going to cum like some teenager."

His words broke through to her, and she stilled slowly. "Hurry," she breathed. "Please."

Raphael grimaced as he tried to get a hold of himself. He clenched his jaw tight as he found some modicum of restraint.

"Forgive me," he said through semi-clenched teeth. "I'm not used to this."

"To sex?" she asked incredulously.

A laugh burst out of him before he could stop himself. After calming, he kissed her brow affectionately.

"No, not sex. I have plenty of experience there. I meant this." He took a moment to palm her breast. Letting his fingers idle over and around her nipple until it was to a hardened point for him to pinch. "Touching you without having to hold back or worry about my powers. Getting to just—" Raphael swallowed down his rising emotion, " be ."

He felt centered staring into her eyes. He felt at home. It was as if all his pain and turmoil had been to reach this point.

To find her.

Stella took his hand in hers and interlaced their fingers. "Then let's just be together."

Raphael slid their hands above her head and bared down on her. He moved his hips in deep, slow purposeful thrusts that drew out every sensation. Her heat was intoxicating. Every time he slipped back inside her, her walls eagerly squeezed him. It was heaven. She was heaven.

He wasn't going to last.

There was too much built up inside him. Heady flames licked at his body. His skin grew taut around sinew and muscle as his climax steadily approached.

"Fuck it," Raphael grunted.

He released their tangled hands to hike one of Stella's legs up over his shoulder and hold her waist.

"Oh, Gods," Stella moaned as he began to drive into her with force and speed. The wet slap of his bollocks against her sex filled the space between their heavy breathing.

"Touch yourself for me." Raphael pressed kisses along her jaw, barely keeping his climax at bay when her pussy fluttered around his cock at the command. "I want you coming on my cock right now, Stella. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, I—" a cry ripped out of her as her hand no doubt found its way to her throbbing clit. Raphael's pace didn't relent. If anything, it grew more frantic and erratic. His fingers dug into her hip, sure to leave bruises, but he couldn't stop himself. The primal need to leave his mark on her, to make her his completely, outdrew every other rational thought.

"Fuck, I'm— argh! "

His orgasm hit unexpectedly. Stella cried out as he bottomed out against her in a savage finishing thrust. Liquid heat gushed over his cock. Stella's walls spasmed around him, draining him dry.

"Oh, my Gods," Stella panted.

Raphael pulled out of her with a groan and laid himself at her side. She curled into him, burying her face against his chest.

"That was… I've never had sex like that before," Stella said. "Have you?"

He kissed her head, lethargy sweeping over him. "Never. Only you."

"Promise?" She asked, pulling back to look him in the eyes.

"I swear. No one has ever made me feel the way you do. And I've never had sex as good as that." Stella smiled shyly back at him, and a lump quickly formed in his throat. He brushed her hair behind her ear as he swallowed it down. "Get some rest, love. We're going to need it."

Stella nodded. Growing tiredness swept over her features as she ushered them under the covers and curled back into his side. They found sleep easily.

Stella was running through the Lunar Court.

There were no courtiers in sight, and the sound of her feet echoed strangely around her. She was dreaming, and for the first time, she knew it within seconds of gaining lucidity. Yet, as Stella continued to barrel down the concourse, she began to second-guess herself.

Am I in a dream or a nightmare?

A feeling of panic clung to every heaved breath she took. Stella raced onward with purpose. She aimed straight toward the back of the concourse and gained on it impossibly fast.

Stella steeled herself for the strange wash of static to wash over her as she neared the end. Instead, it was as if a bucket of freezing water had been dumped over her. Stella gasped and skidded to a halt to look over herself. Her skin was paler than usual with goosebumps clear as day on her arms. She gulped as her gaze drifted lower. Her fingernails were blue.

"It's not real," Stella told herself. Cold meant… cold meant… "It's not real," Stella repeated to herself.

She placed a hand over her heart to steady her pulse, teeth chattering as her eyes closed for focus. Inhale, exhale .

"It's not real," she said with more confidence.

Except there was a growing warmth at her back, then her sides, and finally her front. The heat was welcome, but still, the nightmare frost clung to her bones. It didn't make sense. The heat of reality and the cold of her hallucinations and nightmares couldn't coexist. Or can they? Stella tried to remember the other instances of her hallucinations, dreams, and nightmares, but each fragment of memory remained out of grasp.

"Think, Stella, think." She let the heel of her palm knock against her forehead as if the act would jar a memory loose. It didn't, and there was a growing foreboding presence making itself known. It tickled at her senses. There wasn't just warmth around her, but a strong metallic scent.

Stella opened one eye tentatively and then the other.

To the left and right, dozens upon dozens of candles lined the floor in various tapers and candelabras, illuminating velvet banners on the walls. She knew this place.

This is bad. This is very bad. This is—

A guttural roar split the room. Stella flinched and looked over her shoulder.

"Not again," she breathed.

Layla was on the ground. Her body was still, and her eyes lifeless with the same slash across her throat. Blood oozed from the wound. Stella couldn't remember if it had been like that or not last time. The weak attempt to summon the knowledge left her instantly queasy.

Stella dreaded the sight that awaited her to the left of Layla's body, but she couldn't stop herself from looking. A gnarled sob stuck in her throat as tears blossomed in her eyes.

Raphael was strapped to the same table in the center of the dais. His horns were still intact, and his chest… Stella's stomach churned. It wasn't the gnarled mess left imprinted in her psyche from last time, but that didn't make the few long gashes there any easier to see.

"I will kill you," Raphael snarled as he struggled against his binding. "I will kill you, Kat!"

Stella's gaze darted to the figure on the other side of the table, eyes focusing briefly on the knife she casually toyed with and the way the bloodied metal glistened in the candlelight.

"You know, for some reason, I was under the impression that you were smarter," Kat spoke calmly as an enraged roar broke free from Raphael. He turned his head away from the demoness, head, and neck lifting to see Layla. A sob jumped out of him, features crumbling at the sight of his sister.

"You can't do this."

"Well, clearly, I can."

"This wasn't the deal!" The table rattled as he tried to surge upward. Kat rolled her eyes, and so swiftly Stella almost didn't catch it, she'd slashed deeply across his chest. Raphael made a noise like a caged animal. It raised the hair on Stella's neck and arms.

"Newsflash, Raphael. You failed your task. Maybe if you weren't so wrapped up in banshee pussy, you would have been able to save your sister. Thirty minutes." Kat laughed and looked around the room as if there was some kind of audience in attendance. "Can you believe it? That's all it would have taken. You could have been out of here with her, safe with your new little girlfriend."

Another laugh cackled out of her. The sound belonged in a psych-ward fit for the 19th century.

Kat leaned over Raphael, grabbed his face, and spat in his eye. Stella flinched back and had to hold back the contents of her stomach as Kat drove the knife into Raphael's abdomen. His body heaved inward—or tried to—as he let out a scream.

A smile split Kat's face as she released the blade and admired her work.

"Aren't you dying to know how we did it? All it took was a magical tripwire! Just think, you could have gotten away, Raphael. The setup wasn't even completed until quarter to midnight or so." She chortled, head now shaking side to side in faux reprimand. "You could have saved your sister's pathetic life. It's the littlest details that make the biggest impact, don't you think?

"Now we will make the most of this new moon with sacrifices worthy of our Lord. Hmm, I wonder when the banshee will get here? Gabriel's on the lookout for her. All of this," she said as she ripped the knife from his stomach and waved it in the air. "Isn't nearly as enjoyable without an audience."

Raphael's eyes rolled back as a guttural moan wrenched itself from him.

"Ugh, so dramatic," Kat lamented. She strolled to a nearby cart that glittered with silver instruments whose only purpose was to cause pain. To split flesh and break spirits. The used blade clattered onto the cart.

Stella flinched at the noise and watched with trepidation as she plucked up a small blue bottle. A sneer curled Stella's top lip as Kat trudged back to Raphael and poured a few drops onto his abdomen. It sizzled upon contact, and Raphael seized on the table.

"Stop!" Stella surged forward, but neither her movements nor her voice were noticed.

"There. Now, you won't bleed out before we can get to the fun parts," Kat said matter-of-factly. "Your horns."

A preternatural stillness overcame Raphael. "Don't touch them," he demanded hoarsely.

"I'm going to do more than touch them." Kat set the bottle aside and returned with a hacksaw. She traced a finger over Raphael's horn, smiling serenely as he tried and failed to jerk and twist out of her reach. "I'm going to take them. Maybe mount them over my bed. But before I do that…" Kat trailed around to the front of the table, her back to Stella, still caressing his left horn. "I'm going to use this one to gouge out an eye—an ode to your former friendship with Jax. By that point, your banshee whore will surely try to come to your aide, and we'll be ready for her. All that's needed is for you to tell us where that grimoire is."

Raphael said nothing.

"Playing hard to get?" Kat purred. "You know you'll only make it worse for yourself—better for me—but much, much worse for yourself, Raphael. I'll tell you what, if you can tell me right now where the grimoire is, I won't let Gabriel have a go at her first. What do you say? That's a good deal, Raphael."

Kat lurched back, a hand flying to her face. Stella's heartbeat skyrocketed as Kat spun away from Raphael. Incandescent rage spilled over her features as she wiped a glob of bloodstained spit from her cheek. Her eyes went black, and Stella was certain the gold accents on her horns flared with light.

Raphael's hoarse voice filled the room. "Go fuck yourself."

For a stilted second, the world went still. The only sound was her racing pulse in her ears and Raphael's panted breath echoing in the room.

"I'm going to enjoy this."

A fresh wave of cold doused Stella's nerves from head to toe at Kat's words. She couldn't be certain… but it was as if Kat said the words to her .

"Not real," Stella told herself. I think . The room was warm, but her insides were as cold as a corpse.

Stella backed up a step. Then another. Her eyes closed, shedding fresh tears down her cheeks.

"Not real."