Fallen Angel (Hqn) by Bradley Eden

Author:Bradley, Eden [Bradley, Eden]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Harlequin Enterprises
Published: 2012-06-30T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

DECLAN HAD BEEN QUIET ever since seeing his father at lunch, and Angel hadn’t tried to get him to talk. They’d come back to the house, and he’d gone for a long walk, leaving Liam with her. She’d spent her time reading through an old book of poetry—lovely, silly pieces by Edward Lear. The pages were yellow with age, fragile, and the leather cover was worn. In the front of the book was a bookplate: Mary O’Connell. Declan’s mother, she guessed, and when Declan returned from his walk, he told her that had been his mother’s name before she’d married, but it had been obvious he hadn’t wanted to talk more.

He was still a little withdrawn after his walk, if not as much so. The walk had healed him, at least in part. She understood the power of solitude, and was happy enough to let him be. They’d had a quiet dinner, then had listened to an opera together, Declan explaining the story. She had found the tale of Lakmé, a tragic fable of forbidden love, sad and sweet, the music itself exotic and beautiful. Exquisite.

Declan had claimed to be tired and gone to bed early, and she’d followed suit. Now she lay in her bed, naked and ready for Asmodeus, should he come to her tonight.

But sleep would not come. She was too anxious to see him, her body melting, ready. In need of both her demon lover and the man who slept in the next room. Asmodeus as a conduit, perhaps, to reaching Declan. Or so she hoped.

She got up, hobbled to the window and opened it, letting the night air in to calm her. The crickets hummed in the night shadows. The moon was a sliver in the sky, casting pale, silver light onto the tips of the trees and across her bed.

What was it about the moonlight that made her yearn for Declan even more?

She lay down on the bed once more, willing her mind to release its thoughts, her body to still. And with the song of the crickets to soothe her, she finally drifted off.

She knew the dream place. She was falling into the warm, womblike darkness. It was familiar, that strange plane where she found Asmodeus. She called to him.

“Asmodeus!”

She fell, alone, the wind making serpentine coils of her hair around her naked form.

She called again.

“Asmodeus. Come to me.”

He was there, just out of reach. She felt his heat, but he did not reveal himself. She knew he was toying with her. They were still falling through the dark.

“Come to me, Asmodeus, and let us be as we were before. I need you.”

“Ah, you need me now, do you, little one?”

He stood before her, then, radiant. His hard, naked body golden and sleek, his coal-black eyes burning. Beautiful. Full of danger.

Desire swarmed her system.

“Yes.” She knew it would do no good to make excuses for her absence. “I’ve missed you.”

“Have you? Not always, I think. You have other diversions, now that you are no longer The Gift.

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