Immortal (Fallen Angels #6)(14)
Author: J.R. Ward

He deliberately kept any thoughts of Sissy out of it. Instead, he concentrated on his tight grip going up and down, and the squeeze on the head, and the twist going around the shaft. He had to drop his knees to get room to work, and as the waistband cut into his ass, he ripped off the damn pants. Pretty quickly, a savage edge took over. Biting down on his lower lip until he drew blood, he let his anger out along with his lust, his hatred of Devina driving him higher, hotter.

It was a sick thing to dwell on, but safer and more gentlemanly than what he felt for Sissy.

The orgasm hit like a lightning strike, stopping his heart, freezing his hand, jerking his legs. Then came the thunder—rolling though his mind, his body, his soul … and all he saw was Sissy, turning in slow motion to face him, her eyes staring up at him with a woman’s speculation.

As the release kicked out of his body, he milked it only because he wanted the sex out of him … so he could concentrate, get back to work, do the right thing.

In the wake of the orgasm, exhaustion dogged him, pulling at the corners of his eyes, drooping his shoulders. It had been so long since he had slept well.

Nearly three decades, as a matter of fact.

Not since his momma had died.

And as he snagged hold of those sweatpants and used them to wipe up, he thought any true rest was going to be a long, long time coming.

For now, though, maybe he’d just shut his eyes and let the post-climax floats recharge his batteries a little. He didn’t have tons of time at his disposal, but then again, he never crashed for long, either.

The last thing he thought of as he drifted off while still propped against the door wasn’t a thing at all.

It was the woman downstairs who was searching through that book. He wasn’t sure whether he hoped she found anything … or not.

Maybe Ad was right and he shouldn’t tempt the Fates by giving Purgatory a try.

But as always, he was in between a rock and a hard place.

The shadows were growing long out on the lawn when Sissy got to the last page of the book from Hell. Putting her hands on the small of her back, she stretched for the one hundredth time and looked over at Adrian. The angel had shifted positions around three in the afternoon and now he was lying length-wise on the sofa, one of the velvet accent pillows stuffed under his head. He hadn’t moved since then, except for crossing and uncrossing his feet. She knew he wasn’t sleeping, though.

Where was Jim? she wondered.

“Upstairs,” Ad answered like she’d spoken out loud. “You want me to get him for you?”

She closed the book and stared down at the pitted, stained cover. “I don’t know.”

A split second later, she heard footfalls coming down the stairs, hitting the front foyer, zeroing in on the parlor.

“Is that your doing?” she asked softly.

“Walkie-talkies are so damn cumbersome. Fuckers require batteries, too.”

“Nice trick,” she said, straightening her shirt, pushing her hair back.

Right before Jim came into the room, she wondered what she looked like, and wished she had a hairbrush, a mirror … maybe some toothpaste.

Dumb, dumb, dumb, she thought. One, there was no competing with the likes of that demon. And two, like she wanted Devina’s leftovers?

Jim entered the parlor in blue jeans and a white T-shirt that pulled across his pecs and stretched around the heft of his biceps. His face was remote, and his eyes did not meet hers, but his sheer presence sure got through to her. He was, as always, magnetic, the kind of man anybody would look over at. Was it the height? That build? The perma-frown? That beautiful, shimmering halo around his dark blond head …

Okay, fine. Maybe she did want to compete with the damn demon.

Even though that made no sense, and was self-destructive in the extreme.

“I didn’t find anything,” she announced. “Not one thing.”

Unbelievable, really. Considering the tome had how many words in it? Two trillion?

Jim frowned even more deeply. “You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.” She wasn’t sure what she had read, actually. The writing had a funny way of going in one eye and out the other. But she was very clear that there had been nothing about Purgatory.

“Are you sure you’re reading it right?”

Sissy turned the book around and pushed it across the coffee table to him. “Give it a try yourself.”

“I don’t know Latin.”

“Guess you’re out of luck.”

“Goddamn it.”

“Well, what do you want me to say? It’s not in there. I mean, the place exists, because you two tell me it does—so maybe, I don’t know, is it possible there’s another name for it? Or is there another source of information we can use? Like, have you got an Internet for the afterlife?”

They both looked at Adrian, who was sitting up and rubbing at his dark hair until the stuff stood up like he’d licked a light socket. “Not that I know of.” The angel shook his head. “You know, maybe this is something we need to back off from. I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon, Jim. If by some miracle you manage to get yourself over there, I’m really not sure we can get you back in one piece—even without Nigel. And before you ask, no, I don’t think the Creator’s gonna be all about helping your ass, especially ’cause you’re doing this to get around one of His rules.”

Jim cursed. “No, we’re going to find a way. I’m not giving up—”

The attack came out of nowhere. One second Jim was standing just inside the room, looking pissed off. The next, a bare-chested man was rushing at him from behind, flashing through the doorway soundlessly, some kind of glinting weapon over his head.

Sissy screamed and pointed—and that was what got Jim ripping around just before he got stabbed in the back. His response was instantaneous, his body bracing against the onslaught, his hands latching onto that raised arm and twisting the blade out of range. But he couldn’t throw off the aggressor, the other man as powerful as he was.

It was Colin, the guy from Jim’s hospital visit, she realized. The dark-haired one—

Bang! They slammed into the mantel. Crash! They knocked over a side table and shattered a lamp. Screech! Their combined, thrashing weight pushed one of the sofas off the rug and onto the bare floor. And as the two of them twirled in a deadly waltz, Adrian jumped up, drawing a knife she hadn’t been aware of being on him.

But the angel didn’t get far.

With a quick surge, the attacker extended his free hand and sent a blast of white light at Ad, blowing him off his feet with such force, the couch he landed on shot across the room and splintered into the wall.