Page 48 of The River of Hatred

Ithuriel returns with a whoosh.

It is safe. An alleyway in a human city. There are rats and it smells of urine so it took me a moment to ascertain I’m not still in Hell.

It’s weird that Sariel doesn’t snort at the angel’s humor. I would if I could. But I don’t get to question it for too long. Darkness pulls me in.

Part Two

Chapter 23 – Ithuriel

Paris

Sariel hovers over the unconscious mortal whose flesh cleared up the moment we left the Malebolge.

Once we got to the other side, he said: “That’s the Eiffel Tower, you dolt, how did you not know this is Paris?” Perhaps I knew it, perhaps I didn’t. He then proceeded to instruct me to return to my mortal form and, after we easily closed the rift which remained invisible to the human eye for years, led me to the apartment he keeps in Montmartre. Likely for its proximity to the Moulin Rouge.

“Why isn’t she waking up?” he asks now, standing next to the bed where the mortal lies, his hands on his hips.

“Her body went through a lot and, unlike me, she didn’t get a burst of power just by leaving Hell.” I place my hand on his shoulder and squeeze it gently. “We washed her, we helped her take some water. Let her rest and recover from the ordeal.”

He turns slowly and his downcast eyes rise to meet mine. “You’re sure she’ll be okay?”

I slide my trembling hand down to his waist. I never touched anyone like this before, casual yet proprietary. He might own me, but I own him as well, whether he knows it or not.

“I know it,” I finally answer his question.

“Itha…” he begins. “You gave up everything you are for her.”

I’m shaking my head before he even finishes his thought. “I gave up half of what I am for the both of you. The other half died when you left me.” I tilt my head. “By my calculations, with the two of you, I’m now finally whole.”

Silver tears well up in Sariel’s eyes and his lower lip twitches before he digs his teeth into it to keep it still. A primal instinct takes over and I use my thumb to release the tortured flesh. My eyes locked on his endless ones, I bring my thumb to my mouth and lick off his saliva, eliciting a shuddering moan from my… lover. No longer merely a friend.

My manhood hardens at the thought, and I grab his waist firmly with both hands before pulling him flush against my body. With a sigh, I capture his lips with mine. Firm, but yielding, they glide against mine for a moment, before they part and allow me to conquer his mouth.

His hands dig into my behind as he insistently tugs me closer, rhythmically grinding our pelvises together to the same beat as the battle between our tongues. He then walks us to the other side of the bed, pushes me down onto the soft mattress, and follows.

“What are we doing?” I ask breathlessly, my eyes swinging between the male above me and the sleeping female at my side.

Not immediately answering, Sariel leans back and tugs off his vest. I’m already in my linen underclothes, having not bothered to put the plate armor on after we cleaned ourselves. His muscular chest, lovingly illuminated by the moonlight from the window, begs for my touch.

“What we should have done a thousand years ago,” he finally murmurs, before capturing my mouth and trailing his down my chin, over my jaw, and to my neck, where he gently sucks on my skin. “You’re going to make love to me.”

I shudder as his words penetrate me and sink in, feeling so right. I was blind, but now I see. This is my future, the people in this bed, they were always meant to share it.

“Show me how,” I moan, massaging the nape of his head and pressing him against my chest.

He lifts his gaze to smirk at me. “I’ll show you everything. And together we’ll make this girl the happiest female in every realm.”

I gaze at the sleeping beauty, my lips curling into a smile of contentment. Then a thought hits me and I gasp.

“What is it?” Sariel asks and when I turn back to him, wide-eyed, I see he’s frowning with concern.

“When I made love to Jessica in the bolgia… we… culminated.”

His frown turns into a wild grin. “Yes, yes you did.”

I shake my head impatiently. “No, I mean… we mated.”

Sariel’s eyes narrow before he rolls them at me. “For the love of cinnamony French toast, Itha – just say you gave her a creampie.”

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