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“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Leraie? My brother is to arrive here, to find the place I’ve been hidden away all these years, and you won’t even let me walk out there to say hi?”
“Tisn’t in the plan, Micah. I am sorry, for what it’s worth. You two boys have always been special to me. Part of my DNA makes up who you are, and while I didn’t birth you, in some ways I’ve always thought of you as my sons. It pains me to see the road you have had to tread in recent times. But, I know the end game must come to be. The Fates always have their way,” Leraie uttered compassionately.
But Michael wasn’t having it.
Fuck compassion.
And fuck fate, and the emotionless bitches who ruled over it!
Chapter 33
Almost two weeks after sharing with the others about his shadows trying to castrate him and the clusterfuck that’d followed, Roth was ready to burst, and no, not a nut . . . at least not yet. He was so sexually frustrated by the constant interruptions to his alone time with Athon that all he wanted was to get him naked ASAP. It wasn’t like he hadn’t gone years without sex before, it was just that now he had Athon back his body believed it should never happen again, apparently.
As they reached the door to their shared room Roth spun Athon around and kissed his lover’s lips with gentle passion. He reached behind Athon’s back and fumbled for the handle before it swung inward. Roth stepped in closer to Athon’s body and herded him into the room, with a hard shove the heavy door slammed shut behind them. He grabbed ahold of Athon’s hips and pushed him up against the wall without turning on the light. Falling to his knees on the thick carpet he made quick work of unfastening his lover’s pants and pushed them down to his ankles.
Athon’s fingers wove through his dark hair and rubbed at his scalp, as his cock thickened and rose before him. His face moved closer, and he allowed his warm breath to fan over Athon’s sensitive flesh. His tongue flicked out to wet his parched lips before he licked at the sensitive skin on the underside where the head met the shaft, causing his length to bob in response.
Roth slipped his lips over Athon’s cock, opened his mouth wide and took him to the back of his throat. The groan his love released almost undid him, his own cock throbbed with the need to thrust and seek its own release.
Athon thrust in and out, his breathy groans came faster and harder, filling the space and bouncing off the walls as Roth sucked in his cheeks, swirled his tongue, and cupped Athon’s balls in one hand. His other hand firmly wrapped around his own cock in a desperate attempt to stave off his own orgasm.
Just when he thought they’d both lose control, Athon gently shoved him back and shakily helped him to his feet.
“Why—”
Instead of answering his unfinished question Athon advanced until they were chest to chest. Heaving muscled pecs against heaving muscled pecs, their tattoos melding together almost as if designed to perfectly complement each other. Sexual tension sizzled in the air as Athon’s teeth were bared, a low growling noise coming from deep in his chest, as if it were caught up in the maelstrom of a storm. An answering growl echoed through the room and Roth was stunned to realize it had come from him. Yet while his eyes widened he stepped forward, pushing impossibly further into Athon’s space.
Lips locked and hands traveled desperately over hard muscles. They grabbed at hair and scratched at every inch of skin as they exposed it. Their need became more desperate, more carnal, more primal than it had ever been before.
Suddenly, Athon grabbed a fistful of Roth’s hair and wrenched his head to the side, exposing the side of his neck. Athon lunged forward and bit down hard, breaking skin and sending fire raging through his blood. Without thought Roth dropped to his knees and bit down hard on the taut flesh just above Athon’s cock and to the right. Athon’s shout as he cums, hard, sends Roth over the edge, his cock erupting with his own orgasm onto the carpet between them.
Mated! Two victorious and foreign voices echoed through his head. What the fuck?
Before his brain fired up enough to do anything but flounder in ecstasy and confusion Athon hauled him back to his feet. A feeling of rightness settled over his soul and he had the feeling something irreversible had just occurred. They were bound together tighter than they ever were before.
As they leaned into each other, depleted and satisfied, the perfection of the moment washed all other intrusive thoughts away. The moment eventually ruined by the sharp rap of knuckles on the thick wood of their bedroom door.
“Fuck off,” Roth grunted, annoyed at the intrusion.
“Come on, my brothers, get your asses dressed and moving. Meeting in five,” came Malphas’s amused voice.
“I agree! Fuck off, Malphas. We just left a fucking meeting, bro,” Athon piped up as he gave the still closed door the finger, his forehead still resting against Roth’s shoulder.
“Dudes, don’t shoot the messenger. She who will not be ignored is, as of right now, waiting for all our asses in the meeting room. Fuck, even Caine’s been called back in, so you know it’s gotta be something big. I suggest if you don’t want to be bitch slapped back into last century, or worse, erased from existence, you get moving.”
The guys were each one leg into their pants by the time Malphas stopped talking. They pulled on shirts as they bolted out the door and raced down the hallway, boots on, but laces flapping with each hurried step.
Leraie held court from Luc’s seat as they entered. The throne suited her as much as it suited Lucifer. Regal and dark, the black, studded leather with its elegantly carved, matte black timber frame, flared wide behind her shoulders. She was an impressive woman. Tall and strong. Unique in her power, which oozed into the room and made many wary of what she could do. Leraie was one being, male or female, angel or not, that Athon would never even think to fucking cross. He liked his balls where they were and preferred his molecules in their current configuration, thanks.
“Hi, boys, glad you could join us,” she smirked, her nose twitching as though sniffing the air.
Fuck, they smelled like dried cum. Of course she knows what it is. Fuck my life.
“So glad you boys have moved beyond your misguided squabble and made up. Sorry to intrude on such short notice.”
She looked tired. Like, bone tired, exhausted and in need of a holiday kind of tired. Since the moment of creation, their entire existence, she’d never truly looked this worn out. As if something heavy weighed on her soul. Not that anyone truly knew Leraie or her soul, outside of the Almighty, and possibly Luc and Michael.
As Dante strolled through the door they all looked around. Caine was the only one missing. Luc sat at the other end of the long table, so they took it as their cue and seated themselves side-by-side. Under the table they laced their fingers together and braced for whatever storm was coming their way. Judging by the look on the General’s face, it was bound to be a doozy. Leraie smiled gently, a shimmer in her eyes, like tears, but not. Silver threaded with a storm of emotions too intense and complex to fit such a mundane label.
