Page 14 of Astaroth
“You deserve far more than that, but it’s a start.” Aster laughed in his throat, craning forward to bump his nose against Briar’s chin. “You’re desired, Briar. I would kill a man—several men, actually—for the chance to prove it.”
“Murder isn’t necessary,” Briar said, exasperated. He framed Aster’s face in his hands. Water dripped over his knuckles, following hard cheekbones. “You’re welcome to prove it, though.”
They kissed clumsily. Breath stuttered, too fast, too sudden, and Briar’s heart thundered. He caught himself on the top step as Aster slotted his hips between Briar’s legs. Their stomachs skimmed. Briar ran his palms from Aster’s face to his shoulders, then lower, over the expanse of his smooth chest. He didn’t know what to do, how to kiss someone properly, but Aster’s lips guided his inexperienced mouth. He listened to the water slosh and Aster’s wings flutter, to the sound of their lips meeting and parting, to the storm barreling over them. Heat sparked in his groin, stoked by Aster’s teeth snagging his bottom lip, and his raspy voice on a stolen breath—
“Open,” he said.
Briar’s lips parted, opening wider when Aster’s licked into his mouth, tongue stroking his own. He arched, accidentally, pushing against the hard line between Aster’s legs, and flushed at the strangled, desperate hum that spilled between them. He thought of the feral men inDante and Virgil in Helland the seduced maiden inThe Nightmare. He bit back a moan, grasping for purchase on Aster’s shoulder as they ground against each other. Pleasure ached in him. Relief did, too. The unique brand that came with wanting someone wildly and being wanted back.
Aster pulled away to breathe. He fixed his eyes on Briar’s face, watching him closely as he rolled his hips. The hard length trapped in Aster’s shorts met Briar’s cock, straining against his swim trunks. Heat pulsed, bright and thick, singeing his bones. Briar’s lashes fluttered. Lips trembled. Breath came and went in short bursts. The tension winding beneath his navel tightened.
Take off your shorts,he wanted to say.Let me see you.
Instead, he could do nothing but gasp. His back bowed as Aster’s thumb crept under his bandage, circling his nipple. He met Aster’s eyes on another sharp inhale, his moans steep and frayed, echoing through the empty atrium.
Aster’s breathing turned choppy. He ground between Briar’s legs again, small, short rocks of his hips, and dug his fingers into Briar’s ribs. Briar wanted to tear the useless fabric from between them. He wanted to open himself, bare himself, give himself. He wanted, feverishly, to be taken. To be fucked like one of Aster’s midnight cravings. To give into the swollen, insatiable hunger suddenly awake and alive inside him. He shot forward, taking Aster’s mouth in another needy kiss.
Wind snapped against the glass dome. A loudcrackfilled the air outside, then a chorus of frightened whinnies.Damn. Briar’s eyes flew open. Aster pulled away, startled. They stayed like that, pressed together on the steps of the pool, hard and flushed.
“The horses,” Briar said, stupidly, between gulping breaths.
Aster sighed through his nose. “The stable door blew open.”
“Should someone check on them?”
“Probably,” he said, frustration tipping each syllable. He made a frustrated noise, something halfway to a growl, and pecked Briar on the mouth. “Apologies for the inconvenience.”
“It’s. . .” Briar swallowed. He shook his head, stumbling over an appropriate response. “It’s fine. I’m fine. But don’t you employ—or rent, or, orwhatever—an entire staff for situations like this?”
“If it were anything but my horses, I’d let them handle it.”
“Right, your treasured horses.” Briar heaved a sigh. “You’re quite sweet for a Great Duke of Hell, you know.”
He huffed, annoyed. “And you’re quite promiscuous for a virtuous War Angel. See to yourself while I see to mytreasuredhorses,” he said, glancing at Briar’s crotch.
Briar blushed terribly. He didn’t have a chance to respond. Aster kissed him again, stepped out of the pool, and disappeared into the darkness, leaving wet footprints behind.
Briar lingered, listening to the whipping wind, recalling the way Aster fit between his thighs. He closed his eyes and rubbedthe heel of his palm against his clothed cock, reminiscing onThe Nightmare, and understanding, suddenly, viscerally, how the maiden felt—apprehended by passion she could not escape.
Chapter Five
Briar couldn’t sleep.
He flipped through his old journal, re-reading segments from months and years ago, and huddled under the covers on his bed. Aster had texted him after the horses were secured in the stables, but they hadn’t talked for long. Driven by restlessness, Briar had crept into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, listening to the old, dark manor creak and whine. He’d shuffled around in his house-shoes, gazed at shadowy paintings, ran his hand along mantles and windowsills, and startled at the sound of bare feet on the floor.
“My, my,” Luca whispered, leaning their shoulder against the open frame in the entryway. They glanced around the living room. “Someone’s feeling owlish this evening. Is it the storm?”
“Might have something to with it, but I think it’s a case of racing thoughts,” Briar said. He drummed his fingers on the back of the couch. “I’m curious—what was it like going from Guardian to assistant?”
“Oh, not much changed, honestly. As serendipitous as the job description is, I couldn’t do much as a Guardian. I looked afterthe needy, sent them clues, tried to steer them in the right direction, but in the end, humans will do as humans please. At least Aster’s dramatic enough to make things fun. He listens, too. Most of the time.Sometimes.” They pushed their long, black locs back with one hand, and rolled their eyes. “He listened when I badgered him about you, thankfully. Speaking of which, how’re you doing? I know this place is rather drab—so macabre—but artsy, right? A little gothic, a little vintage.”
Briar laughed softly. “It’s beautiful here, and everyone’s been more than welcoming.”
“Good. I’ve noticed you’ve been dining with Aster,” they said, arching a brow.
“I have, yes. I guess we enjoy each other’s company. I never thought I’d see the day, but here we are. He’s quite. . . I don’t know. Charming?”
“Charming is choice word.” Luca nodded. Their rich, dark eyes narrowed a little, but they smiled. “That feeling? The faux-betrayal trying to work its way into your heart? It fades. I know the High Court makes everything feel permanent, but nothing is. Not us, not this planet, not God. You can let your old life go in favor of a new one. This one, if it serves you well enough. And, trust me, not a single damn angel will lay a finger on you for it. Aster will cut their hands off if they try to.”
