And she’d been having an erotic dream about him. Heat bloomed in her cheeks as her reality dissipated the lingering fog of her dream. She had no business having dreams like that about any hell prince, and especially not this one. He was Ramiel’s opposing force. Even dreaming of him made her feel like a traitor to Ramiel. She loved Ramiel and only Ramiel. She’d adored him for centuries. Hell was known to play tricks on angels.
“Well, well,” Wrath murmured. “I’d love to know what has your face all flushed.”
As long as he didn’t ask, she wouldn’t have to tell him. Haziel hauled herself to her feet, gingerly testing her wing. It wouldn’t be flying soon, but it had healed enough for her to tuck it away. She stood, easing residual stiffness from her legs and back.
“Good morning.” Wrath greeted her with a smirk that, thanks to aftershocks from her dream, made her belly tighten. Gripping the back of his shirt, he hauled it over his head.
She tried not to stare, she really did, but all the smooth, hard muscle right in front of her made that near impossible. “What are you doing?”
“I thought I would take advantage of what is offered.” He gestured the pool before unfastening his pants and shimmying out of them.
Holy wing feathers but the prince was beautifully put together. Rumor had it naked Shade was a sight to behold, but she didn’t know how anything could beat the eye feast currently before her. Powerful slabs of muscle packed his shoulders and chest and then tapered into the slimness of his hips. His stomach muscles descended like a ladder into his waistband and made her want to walk her fingers up and then down.
He turned and provided her with a delicious back view of the taut globes of his ass with their deep indents on each side. Powerful thigh muscles tapered to his knees.
All the hell princes and archangels were beautiful. It stood to reason if you were assuming a form for millennia, you’d make it a good one.
She’d seen Ramiel naked plenty of times. He liked her to take notes when he bathed and wasn’t shy about stripping down in front of her. But she’d never once wanted to sink her nails into his ass, or even bite like she did now.
Wrath took his distracting form beneath the water, and she was able to draw a full breath for the first time in heaven knows how many minutes. Naked Wrath viewing had seemed to take hours, or perhaps that was merely wishful thinking.
Submerged to below his bulky shoulders, he turned to her. “Will you join me?”
Yes, please, yelled her inner angel. And because she was who she was, and Ramiel had cursed her with honesty, her outer angel opened its mouth and said the same thing, “Yes, please.”
Wrath grinned and stroked the water with his arms. “You need to strip.” He gestured to her body. “Unless you have something other than that to wear.”
“I have a change.” She motioned to her bag. Wrath must have carried it here when he’d brought her to the cave. Relief washed over her. Stripping down meant too many naked beings in one woefully small body of water.
Wrath crooked a finger. “Come on then.”
Warm water lapped at her ankles as she ventured into the pool. Wrath must have removed her boots while she was unconscious because she inched forward with her bare feet.
He dipped backwards and dropped below the surface with a splash.
Haziel kicked off into the sensual relaxing heat of the water. It smelled sweet and musky at the same time and kissed against her overheated skin in a way that brought the flush back to her cheeks.
Emerging and shaking his head like a big dog, Wrath grinned at her. “It’s the lust seal.”
“What?”
“The lust seal.” He nodded at her. “I’m guessing that’s what making you look all hot and bothered.”
As much as she’d love to deny his words, she couldn’t, so she settled for dunking her head beneath the water. Below the surface, the pool was darker, and she could only dimly make out the darker shape that was Wrath.
He must be right; it was the weakening seal causing these unruly thoughts and emotions. Like if she drifted closer might she press herself against his powerful body and twine her limbs with his? Made her wonder how he’d react if she kissed the smirk off his sensual mouth. But even her thoughts wouldn’t tolerate a lie, and she knew the weakening seal wasn’t entirely to blame. She’d been having these thoughts about Wrath since they’d embarked on this venture together. When he’d left her at Ava’s, she’d felt abandoned and rejected, and far too delighted when he’d come back for her. The image of him in nothing but a towel was going to linger in her mind for a while.
She broke the surface of the water to find him watching her.
He caught the thick rope of her braid and gently pressed her closer. “Would you like me to wash your hair?”
His hands on her would be too much temptation to bear, and she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s wise.”
“No?” He wrapped her braid around his fist and brought her close enough for her limbs to tangle with his and their hips to bump gently together. His mouth was so close. Water droplets clung to his full lips and clumped his dark eyelashes together. His blue eyes blazed with heat. “Why not?”
“It’s not a good idea.” She wanted to capture the water with her lips and tongue. She wanted to lock her thighs around his waist and pull him even closer.
“And why’s that?” He released her hair and cupped her nape in one warm, callused palm.
Her breasts brushed against his chest, and his erection nudged at her thigh.
Oh, this bastard. He knew she had no choice but to answer him. “Because if you touch me, I’m going to want you to touch me more.”
Desire darkened his eyes to a deeper blue. “I’m still failing to see how that’s a bad idea. We’re both feeling the effects of the lust seal. Why not help each other to ease some of the strain?”
“It’s not the lust seal.” Her voice had lowered to a breathy whisper. She dared not move or she would barnacle herself to him and not let go until he satisfied her needs. “I mean, it’s not only the lust seal weakening.”
He inched her closer, their breaths mingling in the tiny gap between their mouths. “No?”
“No.” She should move away from him, put some distance between them. His hold on her nape was light enough that she could break it easily, but she didn’t want to.
Spearing his fingers into her hair, he whispered, “Tell me what it is then.”
“It’s you.” She craved the taste of him. “I desire you.”
Wrath groaned and pressed his forehead to hers. “Then let me give us both relief.”
“No.” It killed her to produce that one meagre syllable and even now she wanted to take the words back.
