End of Eden (Se7en Sinners Book 2)

“Will do. I’m sure the ladies would like an afternoon with us out of their hair.” He dips down to leave a soft kiss on my temple.

  “I’m sure we can find some trouble to get into,” Sister winks at me.

  I know I’ll be getting an earful later. Over the past couple weeks, I’ve been begging her to give L a chance. And now that she has, I’m sure she’ll have plenty to say on the matter. And as annoying as that may seem, I’m kinda thrilled about it. We’ve never had that. She’s always been open with me about her relationships, but I’ve never had anything worth sharing. We never talked guys growing up. She didn’t ever make me feel bad about it, but I can tell it’s something she always wanted—that closeness. And while I can’t tell her everything, I can give her this. Whatever this is between L and me.

  “I hope that wasn’t too awful,” I remark, after we’ve said our goodbyes and Ben and Sister are safely in his Ford Focus.

  L hits the automatic start on the Jag and opens the door for me. “Why would you think that was awful?”

  I don’t answer until he’s in the driver’s seat. “I don’t know. This is new for you. Hell, it’s new for me. I told you…I’ve never done this before.”

  “Ate Ethiopian food?”

  “No. Dated,” I reply before hurriedly tacking on, “That is what we’re doing, right?”

  “I’d like to think we’re doing more than dating.”

  I turn to gaze at him in the dark, his profile cloaked in shadow and mystery, and I remember his words from earlier. Death won’t be a gift, not if he’s still roaming this earth. Not if he’s not with me. In such a short time, he’s become such a permanent fixture, and imagining a life—even an afterlife—without him seems impossible. It just further reminds me that everything is temporary.

  Even me.

  Especially me.

  “Is there more than this?” I whisper, so low I’m not sure he can hear me.

  Streetlights stream through the tinted windows, painting his face in muted stripes of red and green. When he finally speaks, his voice is filled with an unnamed emotion, one that I can’t describe, but something I’ve certainly felt in this short time I’ve grown to care for him.

  “You’re more, Eden. You’re everything I’ve been searching for—fighting for. You’re my heaven.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  L lifts a wary brow as he inspects the blindfold dangling from my finger.

  “Is this a trick question?”

  A hand on my lace-clad hip, I roll my eyes and retort, “Oh, come on. After that little stunt you pulled before dinner, I’m owed a little fun. I won’t hurt you. Promise.”

  “And if I say no?”

  “Then this,” I say, slowly sweeping a hand from the tops of my breasts down to the middle of my bare thigh, “will all go to waste. What’s it going to be, big guy?”

  I watch him as he ponders my proposition while his hooded gaze roams my scantily clad frame. The way he looks at me—like a starving man at a buffet—shit, I may skip the blindfold altogether and let him take me however he wants.

  L leans back on the bed, his elbows supporting his weight. A sinister smile slithers onto his lips. “Do your worst, firecracker.”

  My stomach churning with nerves, I step forward and prop a knee onto the edge of the bed, right between his legs. I crawl over his body, careful not to give into the overwhelming urge to mount him.

  “Lean forward,” I instruct, my voice already raspy with arousal.

  He does as he told, causing his chest to brush against my peaked nipples in an act of tempting defiance. I tamp down on the shiver that seizes my spine, and instead, push him flat onto his back and work on the buttons of his shirt, careful to draw out the task for both our torture. I bite my lip just to keep from leaning forward and tasting each bit of his exposed chest. I want to slide my tongue over the ridges of his abs and trace the V that tapers into his pants. His skin sizzles under my fingertips, growing hotter the lower my touch travels. When I get to the buckle of his belt, I feel like I may combust.

  “Something wrong?” he taunts.

  I look up to spy his sly grin. “I know what you’re trying to do. And it won’t work.”

  “I’ve no idea what you mean. But if you don’t think you can handle this, I’ll be happy to take it from here.”

  I give his fly a quick yank in warning, popping open the top button of his pants. “Scared?”

  “Of you?” He swallows, and I watch in sensual fascination as his pronounced Adam’s apple moves over his exposed throat. “Terrified.”

  His surrendered words, coupled with his heady tone, intensify my hunger for him, and I rip his pants down his legs and fling them across the room. My plans to take my time with his fitted black boxer briefs are dashed with one glimpse of the mouthwatering erection straining against the tight fabric. I ease them down his thighs, freeing his thick, deliciously long cock from its cloth imprisonment. He groans as the cool air hits his scorching flesh, yet doesn’t move. I touch my fingertips to the swollen head with the barest of brushes.

  Slow, I tell myself. Slow down. But it’s so hard to resist his body when it’s practically begging for my touch and my tongue. I bring my lips to his tip and give it a soft suck, gently running my fingers up and down his ridged shaft. Legion thanks me with another throaty groan, so I suck a little harder, sweeping my tongue over his thick head. I smear the tiny dribbles of his sweet saltiness over my lips before lapping up every drop.

  “You taste,” I gasp between greedy licks, “delicious.”

  “Then you should have some more,” he rasps, flexing his hips to meet more of my tongue.

  I give him my entire mouth, swallowing every thick inch I can stand. He stills, relishing the feel of each hungry draw, and growls out his pleasure as I suck him with feverish zeal before releasing him with a resounding pop.

  “Don’t. Stop,” he orders. His hands grip the sheets in frustration.

  “Be still.”

  I resume my assault on his body by kissing my way up his thighs and over the hard ridges of his abs. I pause to lick and tease his nipples, taking extra care to trace the Se7en mark that covers his left pec with my tongue. He shivers as my tongue strokes the delicate feathers tattooed to his skin and curves around to meet his collarbone. Once I’ve kissed a trail to his jaw, I guide one of his hands to cup my heavy breast through the sheer lace of my bodice. Reflexively, he runs his palm over my pebbled nipple before pinching it lightly between his fingers.

  “Do you want to taste it?” I whisper in his ear, my breath coming out in labored pants.

  I don’t even get the entire question out before he growls a decisive, “Hell yes.”

  I ease down the top of my bodysuit and lean over to gently touch my nipple to his waiting lips. He pounces hungrily the second he feels me, sucking my breast into his mouth and humming his pleasure. I only give him a few seconds before I force myself back and push him away.

  “That’s enough for now,” I say, mustering all my self-control as I slip the straps back onto my shoulders. “Be good and I might give you some more.”

  A noise rumbles the back of his throat and he settles back onto the bed. I reward his compliance with a kiss to his lips, sliding my tongue against his in a slow, rhythmic dance. I take in his breath, feeding his life with mine for what seems like hours. He cups my ass, slipping his fingers under the strip of lace that barely covers my pliant flesh.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I question against his lips.

  “What you want me to do.” He pulls me closer, shifting my body so I’m straddling him.

  “I didn’t say you could touch me.”

  L grounds his hips against mine, my lace-covered sex flush against his rigid cock. He pulses wildly between my thighs. “Then tell me not to.” He kneads my ass, causing me to rock against him from root to tip. “Tell me to stop, Eden.”

  I’m breathless, senseless. I couldn’t fix my lips to tell him to stop even if I wanted to.

/>   He brings a hand to tease my nipple while the other presses lightly against my seam. Shit. Coupled with the friction against my wet, swollen mound, I could come right now. “Tell me this doesn’t feel good. Lie to me and say you’re not drenching my dick right now. Go ahead.”

  His words are like electric eroticism, sending spasms of pleasure to every erogenous zone. I don’t just feel him between my legs. He’s on the backs of my knees, licking me with crimson flames. He’s at the base of my spine, punishing me with prickling heat. He is a whisper across my belly, breathing all my deepest, darkest fantasies.

  I feel him in my blood—in my bones. In this moment, with my body molded to his, he is life itself. And every second that he is not inside me, staining my womb with vengeance and lust, I plunge that much deeper to death.

  “Rip it off,” I manage to moan. “Rip it the fuck off.”

  The beautiful lingerie becomes delicate shreds of lace ribbons in three seconds flat. L rolls me over onto my back, hoists my legs over his shoulders, and pushes into me with so much passion that I cry out in a mix of all-consuming pleasure and jolting pain. His thrusts are deep and desperate, as if he needs to touch every part of me from the inside. Like his very existence depends on marking me in the most intimate way. He grips my hips, pulling me into every devastating stroke. His grunts and groans are a war cry, mingling with my mewls and moans. We create the most erotic, intoxicating melody. Two tragic souls dying so that we may be reborn within each other.

  This isn’t sex. It isn’t love-making. It’s fucking. He fucks the hate out of me. Fucks the pain. And in so many ways—so many heart-wrenchingly beautiful ways—Legion fucks the love out of me.

  Through the mind-numbing passion clouding my senses, I look up at him, taking in his furrowed brow as he devotes every thought to my body. I study the angles of his jaw, clenched with the effort to slow down, just slow-down-baby-don’t-come-just-yet. I gaze in wonder at his hooded, storm cloud-gray eyes, glazed in ecstasy, as they roam my naked, trembling frame.

  I wish I could have this forever. I wish I could relive each moment of this day as if it were new, just so I could always feel this adored, this treasured, this beautiful. We may not have eternity, but right now, as he pulses wildly inside me as the first sign of orgasm rips through us both, I am immortal.

  His grasp on my hips becomes desperate, almost harsh, as he pumps into me, emptying every drop of his ravaged soul. I arch completely off the bed as I exorcise my own violent release, so high I feel like I’m soaring through swirling purple galaxies, speckled with glittering stars.

  When I finally tumble down from his hellish paradise, I am nestled safely in L’s arms. I don’t even remember him carrying me to the head of the bed and wrapping me in the comforter. He kisses my brow, and I feel him smile against my skin.

  “What?” I ask, my voice raw.

  “Nothing. Just…happy,” he replies, mirroring the words I said to him earlier. But the way he says it, as if it’s a question…as if the thought of happiness was a mere myth, a fantasy, for someone like him. An angel cast out of Heaven, only to spend eternity as the very thing he despises. Legion, the Collector of Lost Souls, and now, the Keeper of my Ravaged Heart.

  “You know, if you keep talking like that, you may start to turn human,” I jibe, before leaving a soft kiss on his chest.

  “And would that be so bad?”

  I lift my head to study his expression.

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Why? Why would anyone—especially you, a fallen angel—want to be human? You’re so powerful, so fearless. Why open yourself to vulnerability, disease…heartache?”

  He stares at me, those heavy-lidded, starlit eyes giving nothing away. Reluctantly, I lay my head back against his chest in hopes that we can recapture the easiness from moments before. His mortality is none of my business. I’m not even officially his girlfriend. I’ve been his prisoner, his ward, his lover. Earlier he told me I was his heaven. What does that even mean? And why does that responsibility seem so incredibly terrifying?

  “Immortality does not excuse you from heartache.”

  His rasped words slither straight to my heart. I hold my breath, waiting for him to continue.

  “If anything, it only consumes you until the ache of loss becomes so great that you become a shell of what you were. Empty, desperate, searching for something—anything—to distract you from the constant agony. Even if you know that the alternative will only rip your soul in two, leaving behind the stain of sin and iniquity. But you do it anyway, because anger is easier than feeling pain.”

  “You fell for her.” Adriel. I should have known. She’s always here. In this bed, between these sheets, in my head…in his heart. My very own poltergeist.

  “No, Eden.” Warm fingers trail down my jaw and cup my cheek, angling my head to look up at him. “I didn’t fall from Heaven for Adriel. I fell because of her. But I would fall…for you. If I had to do it all again, I would fall for you, Eden.”

  With my eyes glossed with emotion I don’t even understand, I part my trembling lips and give him a small kernel of timid truth, praying it won’t crack and splinter in his palm.

  “I think I’ve already fallen.”

  Warm sunlight strokes my cheek in the late hours of the morning, rousing me from sleep. Legion isn’t here, but I still feel his warmth singed into the pillowcase beside me as I run my fingers over the soft silk. My skin is bathed in his scent—masculine and fragrant—like a kindled match. And between my legs, he still lives, still throbs with the same uncontained passion he unleashed on me until my whole body trembled and my voice grew hoarse with my cries. Until light and color exploded within my veins and ignited every nerve ending with glittering dynamite.

  I lay back and sink further into the scorching remembrances of the night before. Tasting Legion, relishing in the sounds he made as he surrendered his body to me, letting him take back control and punish me in the most delicious way. God, it was so damn…hot. But it wasn’t just his body that left me full to bursting. It was his words… What he said, and what I said to him in return. I didn’t know I could ever be that vulnerable with anyone. Ever. And now that I’ve bared my body and my soul, maybe I should stop dancing around my desires and come clean. I just don’t know how I can achieve that and still keep him. And I’m not ready to let go of the illusion. Not yet.

  My body feels loose and languid, with just a touch of soreness between my legs. I jump in the shower, turning the water up as hot as I can stand and quickly wash and rinse. While I could spend an hour under the steaming spray, there’s something I need to do. And that something has to be done before Legion gets back from his patrol shift. After toweling off and popping my birth control pill (courtesy of Dr. Phenex who hooked me up when I returned to the Se7en house), I hurriedly dress in jeans, a fitted sweater, and boots.

  “Going somewhere?” Toyol questions when I hit the living room. He’s situated in front of the TV, an Xbox controller in his hands.

  “Meeting my sister for lunch. I won’t be long.” It’s not that far off. Since moving back in, I’ve ensured that Sister is a fixture in my life, and they haven’t denied me that.

  “Snowed last night. Roads are probably slick. Need me to take you?”

  “Nah, I can handle a little snow,” I shake my head. “I’ve got it.” I pat my handbag, indicating that I won’t be unarmed…just in case, of course.

  Toyol frowns. “You sure? I don’t mind.”

  “I’m sure. I’ll be back in a couple hours. Tell L for me, ok?”

  I turn towards the door before he can grill me with questions. I know it’s only out of concern for me, but there hasn’t been a threat in weeks—not since I returned from Hell. And if they’re going to insist that I’m not a prisoner, I can’t act like one. I need to get on with my life, even find a job. I can’t do that warming Legion’s bed all day and night, as tempting as that sounds.

  I take th
e smaller Jag that I borrowed before. L insisted that it’s for my use whenever I may need it, and refused to take back the keys. Like Toyol suggested, the roads are a little slick, but I arrive at the small, low-key pub without incident. And after parking a block away just as I did the week prior, I take a deep breath, fluff my hair, and school the guilty nervousness from my face.

  “Nice of you to show,” Crysis jibes. He sits on a stool on the far end of the empty bar, two untouched mugs of beer in front of him.

  “Keep your panties on,” I shoot back, cutting my eyes to the pints. “Little early, don’t ya think?”

  The handsome blonde angel-human hybrid shrugs. “Been up all night. It’s late for me. Sit.”

  I do as he commands, but not without muttering “bossy fucker” under my breath, knowing he’ll hear it. He chuckles darkly and slides a mug in front of me.

  “So what’s up, Eden. Enjoying life as a kept woman?”

  “Jealous?” I retort, taking a sip of the foamy brew. “Besides, isn’t that what you wanted?”

  Crysis shrugs and takes a gulp of his beer. After a few moments of silence, he stows the snarky asshole act and quietly reports, “Rev is still asking about you.”

  I slide the mug to the side and give him my undivided attention. “Asking what about me?”

  Another shrug. “If you’re safe… Happy. He really wants to see you again.”

  I shake my head, unsure of what to tell him. “I don’t know. Two weeks ago, I was resigned to the fact that I didn’t have a father. And now that I know that I do, and he’s known about me this entire time, I can’t say what type of relationship I can have with him at this point, especially considering my involvement with the Se7en.”

  “But you’re staying safe.”

  “I am. No reported attacks or attempts on my life. And I’ve been working on controlling my abilities, and channeling my anger.”

  Crysis nods, his expression unreadable. “Are you happy?”

  At that, an unexpected smile finds its way onto my lips as I recount the last weeks. Falling back into step with the Se7en was easier than I expected. They didn’t make a big show about my leaving and returning, considering I was gone for barely twenty-four hours. And they treated the unspoken relationship Legion and I had as nothing new, as if there had always been something between us. Sure, I noticed the teasing looks the other guys gave him when they thought I wasn’t looking, but that was a normal—if not, human—response. Actually, the weirdest part about it all was that they seemed so normal with my presence. Me, a human girl, once one of the Called, inhabited by the soul of an angel/L’s ex lover, and dragged out of Hell where I was Lucifer’s prized pet. There was absolutely nothing normal about any of that shit.