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Consorting with the Enemy
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Ariel is a high-ranking, powerful, and sexy as sin Demon in the Underworld who has been trying for centuries to corrupt an angel.
Ariel’s history with the beautiful Azazel was filled with hidden desire and unbridled passion, and the Demon just could never find the strength to put much effort into trying to obey the Dark Lord’s demands that he capture Azazel’s nephew, Marchand, and bring him to the Underworld to serve as his pet. He was much more interested in teasing and toying with the Fallen Angel rather than going to war with him. But when he can no longer trick the Dark Lord into believing he’s truly trying to capture Marchand, decisions have to be made, and his actions would not only ignite a war, but send shock waves throughout the entire Underworld.
If Azazel hadn’t been so blinded by his desire to keep his nephew safe, he would have questioned why the powerful Demon kept making one mistake after another when he came after Marchand. By the time he realizes his mistake, it might be too late to protect the ones he loves. A war has come to the earthly realm, and the stakes are high. When consorting with the enemy, can there ever be a happy ending?
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“Enemies and lovers come to resemble each other over a period of time.”
“Again.” I barked, not giving my nephew an ounce of leniency. I didn’t want him to be a warrior any more than he apparently wanted to be one, but being unprepared to defend himself wasn’t an option. They would come for him, whether it be Ariel or someone just as deadly, so he had to be ready. The recent battle at Ravenwood proved to me that my nephew was relying too heavily on practicing magic that Gabriel was teaching him instead of learning to master his own strengths.
Marchand rolled his eyes and glared at me. “I’m tired. I’m not good at this. And I don’t want to train anymore. Can’t we call it a day and start again tomorrow?”
If I had a feather for every damn time, I’d heard those phrases, I’d have the fluffiest fucking wings in existence. As it was, I only had more worries and fears heaped onto me every time he failed and wanted to quit. “Again, Marchand. Your wings are your deadliest weapon and you must learn to use them properly. Contrary to what you clearly think, they aren’t just something for your lover to stroke and pet. Now, concentrate,” I ordered.
Because of the deep sleep he’d been in when he was captured by the warlocks, and then the magic veil that had hidden him from me, Marchand’s abilities were sorely lacking for an angel of his age. Like human boys trying to learn to control their arousal in their early teens, a male angel had to learn to control his wings. Marchand was failing miserably. He couldn’t make his wings unfurl on demand but if Gabriel walked into the room—boom. There they were, just begging to be petted.
Thinking of wings, and feathers in particular, caused me to rub the spot on my chest that ached.
“Hey. How’s training going?” Gabriel asked as he stepped inside, interrupting Marchand’s training session for the fourth time in that many hours. Right on cue, Marchand’s wings popped open and fluttered nervously.
I stared at my nephew’s lover in disgust. The witch wasn’t acting a bit more mature or serious than Marchand was. He grinned at me and said, “I can’t help it, man. They are so fucking gorgeous.” Waggling his eyebrows, he added, “And I think I control them.”
“Well, I hope one of you can,” I answered dryly as I started packing up my gear. Just as yesterday, today had been a total waste of time and energy. On top of that, every time I left Marchand, knowing how utterly defenseless he was, my fear amped up. As I shoved my sword into its sheath, I glanced over in time to see Gabriel stroke Marchand’s wings. My nephew shivered from head to toe. Yes, this training session was clearly over.
“At least have the decency to wait until I leave the room,” I snapped irritably. When passing by Gabriel, I hissed, “They are supposed to be weapons, you dirty little witch. If you keep playing with them, he’ll never learn to defend himself.”
“He has all of us to defend him,” Gabriel retorted, looking furious that I’d even hinted that the witches and vampires, although very powerful, would be unable to keep Marchand safe. What Gabriel didn’t realize was that Ariel would be coming for him. If Ariel failed, then another demon would take his place. Even worse, before long the Angel Master would more than likely send a team of angels to this realm to retrieve my nephew and hand deliver him to the Demon Lord.
“Hey. Meeting in my living room to discuss our options,” Gabriel called out. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. You all can go ahead and start without me.” He turned back to Marchand. “I’ve got to spend some time touching these pretties.”
Dear Angel Master! Thank all the gods that I’d never fallen in love if it made you act like Gabriel and Marchand were currently acting. I paused in the hallway…remembering. It hadn’t been love. It couldn’t have been love, but centuries ago it had been a deadly case of lust between me and Ariel. We were mortal enemies and should never have touched one another. Ever. It hadn’t stopped us, though. Hell, there’d been no stopping us—not heaven or hell.
My mind drifted back to that first touch, our first encounter. It had changed my life, made me do things I firmly believed were sinful—an abomination in the eyes of all supernatural creatures, especially those of the angel realm. Ariel had always had that ability, though. He could always make me feel things I shouldn’t…make me want things I shouldn’t. I remembered the first time I’d laid eyes on the demon Ariel as if it’d only happened moments ago. He was gorgeous physically, but I’d lived many centuries and seen, touched, and played with many beautiful things in my existence. That wasn’t what had drawn me to him. It had been this carefree and playful aura that surrounded him. It shouldn’t have been there, not with a demon. Yet, it had been and it had been a trap that had taken years to escape…if I truly had escaped his hold over me.