Is she serious?I nod, blood rushing to my head as my neck throbs.
“Here’s the thing, Riven.” Celine clenches around me, grinning evilly as she arches her spine. “I don’t do that on command. You’ll have to earn it.”
It’s a taunt. A challenge. And the confidence on her face is exactly what I’ve been missing since the gateway in Georgia turned red.
I sit up and flip Celine onto her back again, driving into her relentlessly. When she comes this time, she’ll take me with her, and I want this orgasm to be the best yet.
Our skin is slick with sweat, but it still takes effort to work my hand between our bodies. I twist my wrist, rubbing where we’re joined while pressing down on her pelvis with the heel of my other hand.
Celine’s head rolls back, and her mouth opens in a silent scream.I did that. She’s writhing for me.Pleasure like nothing I’ve ever felt before rolls through me. If I could make this moment last forever, I would give anything to make it happen.
Her face is relaxed—no hint of the stress and despair I’ve grown used to seeing this week. An unfamiliar sense of pride curls around my heart. I cradle her cheek and smile.
She frowns. “Riven, I asked you not to shift your face.”
What is she talking about?My stomach flips. “I didn’t change it,” I say, wincing as my face glitches, the telltale buzz of static rolling through the amber barrier.
Celine strokes my cheek, running her thumb over my lips. “For a few seconds there, you weren’t you. You were someone else.”
“Impossible.” I kiss her thumb to soothe the sting of my denial. “I felt no pain, darling. Shifting always hurts.”
Celine shrugs. “I didn’t imagine it. Maybe you didn’t notice.”
I open my mouth to argue. I didn’t shift. I’m sure of that. Unintentional shifts are for children, and if I wasn’t confident inmy control, I would never have put Celine at risk by initiating a partial one while inside her.
My faceisstinging, though, from my hairline to the tip of my chin, and I don’t have an explanation for that.
Celine kisses me, and I forget all about my face. Her lips are almost shy, moving against mine as if she’s asking a question. “We ruined this bed,” she says, wincing as she scoots away from the damp spot on the sheets.
I smirk. “We made it better, seasoning or something.”
She makes a disgusted face. “That’s gross. It’s a hotel bed, not a cast-iron skillet.”
I don’t understand the reference, and I don’t care to, so I scoop her up and head for the bathroom. “It’s a good thing we have two of them, then.”
The water from the shower stings my face, but I ignore it and focus on Celine, settling on the closed toilet in a towel after we’re done to watch her methodically rub lotion into her skin.
Neither of us speaks, but it’s not awkward.
I can’t help feeling as if I helped her—not with my shapeshifting cock—but by making her see herself. If she needs me to do it again, I will. As many times as she needs me to. And if she needs Malach, she’ll have him, too. I don’t care about his character or how many angels we have to kill to make it happen.
As long as I’m around, Celine loses nothing else. S’lach wanted her broken. He told me to make it happen, and I failed. Now, I’m going to do the opposite. I only hope I’m better at this job than I was at my last.
TWENTY-SIX
Unsent correspondence, translated to English, and addressed only to My Truth:
I made a mistake, and it might cost me everything.
MALACH
S’lach’s fury has no end.
And I’m his outlet for all of it.
Trapped again in the white box with glaring lights, I take everything he throws at me and maintain my story. No, I didn’t lie about Elodius. Of course we’re not working together—I’ve never even met him. Something must have changed between the time of judgment and when he cast his vote.
I’m not sure if S’lach believes me or not, but I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter. He’s furious. He needs to punish someone. And I’m easier to get to than Elodius.
