As I felt my body failing, my spiritual essence dissipating, I was intensely grateful that she had Mikhail, a strong mate, to stand beside her. As broken as I was, I would never stand again. It was too late for me to heal after the final abuse Valor had inflicted on my body while I was tied up and helpless.
My bones were shattered. My organs ruptured. My wings… I had been so proud of them. Was this my penance? Lightning bolts of excruciating pain lanced through each feather, and I prayed for death.Great Mother, help me, please. Take me into Your arms.
The memories of my time in this cell flickered past like leaves falling, as I released the hold I had on this realm, welcoming relief from the agony.
“You’re not competent to be the leader of Sanctuary,” Valor had said dolefully, on the first trip to my cell, when the Guides had escorted him inside. “We need to open the Flight Hall and send someone down to bring the High Angeli back to us. They’ll get you the help you need. And help all of us.” His words were kind, but his voice was filled with deceit. He had some nefarious plan for Gavriel and Mikhail, and I would not be a party to my friends’ downfall.
So I stayed silent, though Valor left and returned with the soul knife, torturing me for a long time while the Guides with him sat in positions of prayer a few yards away. I let my mind drift from the pain, remembering that my Feather had lived with so much worse for so long. If I could stay alive long enough to warn her… I’d called out mentally for days to do just that. Or weeks, I wasn’t certain.
Time had stopped, and only pain remained.
But the walls of these rooms had been built to be soundproof. No one heard me. No one came. Except Valor. Filled withcenturies of rage that I hadn’t sensed, and smelling like a combination of brimstone and a festering wound, he’d snuck back down on his own again, to mock me.
After the first week in isolation, I’d almost been glad to hear his voice.
But all he had to say was venom. “I don’t hate you, Righteous,” he lied, as he snapped my right wing. “I just need you out of the way so I can take my rightful place as the leader of Sanctuary. The Guides will grant me your position as soon as you finish dying.” I screamed as he stomped on my hand, shattering the small bones there. “I need you to die faster, though. Before Gavriel returns.”
He spent a brutal eternity breaking my bones, wrecking me so that I would never be able to heal again. I wasn’t certain if the Guides knew what he had done, but no one had come in to check on me after he left.
Great Mother, help me, please. Take me into Your arms.
When something like warm honey began to move though my body, replacing the never-ending agony with music, I knew I had to be dead. The voice I heard was Feather’s, after all. The hands on my flesh were recognizable. Even the things she said—ridiculous, lewd promises about sexual positions and unlikely food combinations—convinced me that I was in whatever paradise a ruined, failed Protector could inhabit. Not the Celestial Realm; none of my old friends were there to greet me. Only my little Scrap, my Tili, so this had to be some other unknown, unexpected Heaven. But as soon as my dream assured me that we were still in Sanctuary, the world was plunged into darkness.
I inhaled sharply, realizing when I did that my lungs were no longer punctured. I took another deep breath and let out a soft sob of thanksgiving.
“Oops.” I heard a shuffling of cloth, along with the sound of wings rustling. I leaned forward, smelling roses and a hint of a campfire. My nose bumped into something warm and soft. “Ow, don’t punch my tit, Ry!”
“Feather?” I asked, reaching out, wincing at the memory of what my hands had looked like before—a mass of blood and crushed bones—but instead of pain, I felt… a firm, tight breast covered with thin cloth, with a nipple that hardened against my open palm.
“Um, Ry?” she squeaked. “That’s my… um, my…”
“Shh.” My voice was soft as I scooted toward her. This had to be Heaven, no matter what she said. It was dark as death, and my secret love was here with me. The pain was almost gone, her breast was in my hand, and as I wrapped my arms around her, she melted into my embrace. “Heaven. The only explanation,” I murmured. “But to be sure…” I laced one arm behind her small, limp form and felt for her wings. She released a shuddering moan, going even more boneless in my embrace.
Supporting my weight with one hand, I let the other wrap behind her hair, grasping gently but firmly at the base of her skull before I angled her head toward me and leaned forward in the darkness. She tasted like sin and redemption, roses and honey, and the soft groans she released as I plundered her lips spurred me to grasp her hair a bit tighter, and kiss her even more deeply, claiming her lips for myself.
I let my hands fall to her waist and lifted her up onto my lap, relishing the soft gasps she made as she rubbed herself against my cock. I was as hard as a Celestial sword, and I moved her clothing away from her satiny legs as I sought to press our skin together.
This was the best dream I’d ever had. If I had to die to experience it? So be it.
“We should maybe talk about this,” Feather whimpered as I pressed my hard length against her abdomen, moving her entire body slightly up and down, luxuriating in the feeling of her warm skin on my hands. I wanted to feel that warmth, and more, on my cock.
I growled, frustrated with the clothing, and tore it away from her, leaning over and pressing her to the floor.
“Ry?” she murmured. “Are you sure you’re well enough to do this?” I felt her thighs open slightly, and her hot, wet core slip against my aching length. “I’ve only just healed you.”
Healed me.The words began to percolate through my brain, and I fought the dawning comprehension that I was not dreaming. I did not want to wake up.
Leaning and taking her nipple lightly in my teeth, I started sucking and pulling at it with my lips and tongue, trying to memorize the way she arched up into me, cataloging every gasp and plea. I reached down with one hand, using it to rub the weeping head of my cock over her clit.
“Yes,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “More.”
I knew it was wrong. Knew now I wasn’t dead, and that I had no right to touch her in this way. But I would have committed my soul to the Abyss for one moment between her soft thighs, and in her arms.In her soul.
“We can’t… merge,” she moaned softly, answering my deepest thought.
“No,” I breathed, kissing her again, then pulling back, drawing circles around her swollen clit with my cock. “No, you’re mated. We can’t merge, Feather. I can’t fuck you here on the floor.” She shifted the tiniest bit so that the head of my cock was drenched at the opening of her pussy. I froze, and felt her thrusting her hips up in tiny motions, no more than an inch, the thick head still enough to stretch her. She was fucking me, ever so slightly, from below.
Careful not to slip any farther into her than she would allow, I lowered myself on one elbow so I could whisper in her ear, “Do you feel that, my perfect little scrap of heaven? My cock so thick and hard, for you. Only for you. I know we can’t merge. We can’t fuck. All we can do is a little… touching.” I reached down and circled her clit with two fingers, drawing tiny cries from her as I learned what gave her the most pleasure. She grunted, fighting to thrust upward and force my cock into her tight heat. But I lifted my hips. “No, Scrap, not yet. Not until I’ve made amends.”
