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Another roar sounds from the living room, and I catch the scent of Hell as Kase opens the gates again. “Micah! Lucian! Come and face me!” he yells, his guttural, growly voice shaking the whole apartment.
Neither responds, and a part of me is thankful.
Closing his door, Dante cuts me off from Kase as he unleashes his wrath, his anger palpable, heating the room.
Something inside me shuts down.
In a moment like this, I want to pray. I want to ask for guidance and help. But my faith is gone, and only vengeance waits for my calls in the form of righteous avenging angels.
So instead, I sit in silence.
I push the world away completely.
Chapter 7
What Dreams May Come
RAVEN
“LITTLE HELLION,” ANDRE whispers, his voice lacing around me, tugging me from darkness.
Bright light turns my dark eyelids red, and I flutter my lashes and open my eyes. Engulfed in a halo of light, Andre kneels over me with the brilliant blue sky behind him. I sit up and shove him away, confusion washing over me. Where am I? The last thing I remember is falling asleep in Dante’s arms what feels like minutes ago. There is no way it can be light out—or possible that Andre kidnapped me to bring me to this colorful meadow of yellow flowers overlooking the vast sapphire ocean.
“Settle your soul. There’s no need to fight me. This is only a dream. I heard your prayer as you drifted off to sleep. You invited me here.” Andre raises his hands in surrender, scooting back a foot out of my reach.
“Like hell I did,” I snap, pressing my palms against the soft grass. It feels more like a downy pillow than the itchy blades I’m used to. “I would not pray to you.”
“You might not have, but your soul did, and little hellion, I must ask why you allow the devils to sully and break what should be your most precious possession? Hell might have a contract for your soul, but no devil owns it yet. I would think you’d save this kind of torture for when you descend.” Andre puckers his bottom lip, his pout turning his handsome face cuter, gentler. He’s not the badass angel warrior in this moment, and I’m not sure what to make of him.
“I don’t think it was on purpose,” I say, building my guard up as Andre tries to tear it down. The comment comes from my mouth before I have time to think about it, and now that it’s out there, I realize the truth to it. Micah might’ve showed me his kingdom, but I don’t think he purposefully intended to hurt my soul. If he had, he wouldn’t have apologized...right? Fuck. I don’t know. It doesn’t exactly make me feel better either. Actually, I feel like shit.
“Even so, you’ve experienced agony at the hands of the merciless tormentors of Hell, and your soul fissures with its darkness. I bet it feels awful.” Andre risks getting shoved again to scoot closer.
“What the fuck? Are you listening to my thoughts? Get out of my head,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut. I wouldn’t put it past him to read my mind like Micah had.
Andre’s thick brows lower on his forehead. “I don’t understand. I can’t hear what you think and only what you choose to tell me here. I’m dream-walking, little hellion. Telepathy isn’t my forte.”
“So I really am dreaming? And you’re here?” I can barely wrap my mind around it. “Why? How?” I have so many questions.
“Like I said. Your soul called to me. I wanted to help heal you while I still can. I might not be able to grant you a miracle or save your soul from eternal damnation, but I can offer you this small mercy. Please let me.” Andre’s voice lowers, and he extends his hand to me, everything about him so sincere.
As much as I want to tell him to screw off, another part of me begs to stop being stubborn for the sake of it and to let this sexy angel do what he pleases. He wants to fix my pain, so I might as well accept it. It’s not the first time he’s healed me.
Rubbing my lips together, I slowly meet his unintentionally seductive coffee gaze. His eyes search mine as he waits for my response, and I nod my head in agreement. A smirk lights up his features, his relief over my acceptance like a warm bath soaking me in comfort and peace. Andre opens his arms and unfurls his glorious, rainbow-prism wings, inviting me closer. Anticipation builds inside me, my soul practically throwing itself at the angel. I force myself to chill out and let him pull me to him instead of tackling him. His smile widens at my closeness. Leaning in, he cups my face, and I brace for his lips to press to mine. He disappoints me by resting his forehead to mine instead, leaving a torturous inch of space between our mouths.
“This will only take a moment,” Andre murmurs, locking me in his gaze.
I don’t get a chance to respond as angelic light glows from the depths of his eyes and sets my world aglow, chasing the lingering Hell residue from my essence. I gasp and clutch onto him, my lips accidentally caressing his as he leaves me breathless. Static shocks me, humming through my whole body. Andre tenses but doesn’t recoil. He doesn’t pull away either like he savors the sensation of my closeness, of my lips against his, and how we share the same breath—perhaps more in this dream world.
“Raven,” he whispers, his coconut scent strong enough to taste as he talks against my mouth. “You have the most beautiful soul I’ve ever been blessed enough to experience. You do unexpected things to me, even in this state.”
“Like what?” Because damn it. I want nothing more in this moment in the entire universe than to hear him say what I can already feel in the world around us.
Gently combing his fingers through my black tresses, he pushes my hair from my face to get a better look at me without the veil I like to hide behind. “I don’t know how to put it into words. Can I show you?” His cool breath tickles my mouth, and I swear I feel his lips quiver in anticipation, being so close to mine.
Like my soul knows what he means before he can explain what he wants to do, I find myself leaning into him completely, kissing him harder, more fervently. Andre moans against my mouth, devouring my affection like it’s the only thing that matters in the universe. Desire courses over me in a hot wave, emanating from Andre as he shows me what he feels inside him—the lust new and unexpected, uncontrollable and wild, and completely all-consuming.
I push him back, my body buzzing and humming as he lets me take control. His hands tangle in my hair, and he slips his tongue in my mouth, his kiss sweet yet passionate and unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s almost addicting how sugary his mouth tastes, how I can’t think about anything else but kissing him until he pleads for more.
