Avenging Angel (The Fallen 4)
Page 79More than life. More than enough to beat death.
She gave him a smile, one sweet and sexy at the same time, and she rolled away from him.
That was when his heart stopped. Her hair slid off her back and revealed the scars that crossed her shoulders.
But they weren’t scars any longer.
When they’d made love before, back at that cabin in the swamp, the scars had felt rougher beneath his fingertips. Hell yes, he’d noticed that, but he hadn’t thought much of it. He’d been too busy catching a killer. He’d forgotten the scars.
Until now.
Guard what you want the most.
Carefully, his fingers touched what should have been red scars. She gasped beneath his touch. The sound was filled with pleasure, not pain.
Wings are the most sensitive part of an angel’s body.
But her wings had been cut away. She’d lost them. Become trapped on earth with him.
She couldn’t go back to heaven because she didn’t have her wings.
His fingers slid gently over her back.
Only he was touching silken wings that were growing from her shoulders. Her wings might have been cut away, but they were growing back.
It was time for her to go back home.
CHAPTER TWENTY
When Marna woke, it was dark. No sunlight streamed through the windows anymore, and the room was lit only by the faint glow from the stars and the moon.
She was in Tanner’s bed, with his arms around her. They’d made love twice—three times?—that day. She’d fallen asleep with his name on her lips and now she’d just awoken to—
The feel of his lips on her back. Pressing lightly against the blade of her left shoulder. The spot where her wings had once been. The touch of his mouth against that sensitive flesh had her whole body tensing. Her ni**les were hard. Her legs restless. Just that touch . . .
Because the touch of his mouth sent pleasure streaking through her. Stronger than before. He’d kissed the scars another time, but it hadn’t been like this.
Her breath heaved out. Marna didn’t move. She wanted him to keep kissing her. Her sex was wet, her body tight.
He licked her flesh. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. So good. It had hurt so badly when she lost her wings, but this . . . pleasure.
Tanner had taught her so much about pleasure.
His lips whispered over her again. “I’m gonna f**king miss you.”
He was going to—wait, what? Marna stiffened and tried to turn and face him, but he held her still in a grip far too strong. Shifter strong.
“When you go back, remember me, okay?”
“Should have known I couldn’t keep you with me. Too good for me . . .” His breath rasped against her skin. His fingers skimmed over her flesh, and she shivered. “Remember me.”
“I could never forget you.” What was he even talking about? “And I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yes.” Sad. “You are.”
Another kiss on her flesh. Another caress that sent a shudder of pleasure through her. Then he said, “Your wings are growing back.”
Her world seemed to stop. No, maybe that was just her heart. “That’s not funny, Tanner.” The shifter should know better than to joke about something like that. Angry—no, furious—she ripped away from him and rolled from the bed. “I lost my wings. They won’t ever grow back. They—”
“Would you go back to heaven, if you had the chance?” His face was tense, but his eyes were blank, showing no emotion.
Go back to heaven? Marna hesitated. No fear. No pain.
“Right.” Tanner climbed from the bed. Jerked on his jeans. Turned so that she could only see his back and the scars that crisscrossed his flesh in a painful reminder of all that he’d suffered.
“Angels don’t lie.” He said the words without looking at her. “Shifters, though, we were born to deceive. Born to be beasts who hide beneath the guise of men.” His shoulders were strong and straight. “But I never lied to you.”
No, he hadn’t. From the very beginning, he’d always told her the truth. Always been there, trying to help her.
Was it any wonder she loved him? Love. She finally knew what the humans talked about. No wonder it made them crazy. It was wonderful. Consuming. Addictive.
Terrifying.
And she was across the room in an instant. Marna grabbed his arms and yanked him around to face her. “Angels of death don’t have white wings.” Their wings were touched by the darkness and despair of their work, so death angels and punishment angels always had black wings.
He blinked at her. “But I saw them. You’re growing white wings.”
Marna whirled away from him and raced for the bathroom. She flipped on the light and twisted as she strained to see her body in the mirror. He has to be wrong. He has to be wrong. He has to—
But she had wings growing from her back. White wings. Her hands gripped the marble countertop so tightly she almost ripped it from the wall. “How?”
Tanner had followed her. He stared at her with eyes that seemed so empty. Cold. Not like Tanner. Not like him at all.
“Wings don’t grow back.” She shook her head. The words tumbled from her as she said, “Not after a fall. All the angels know—”
“You didn’t fall.” Said simply. Sadly. “A shifter tried to force you to earth. He hurt you. But now, you’re healing.”
Healing. The breath in her lungs seemed to burn. Her gaze lifted and locked on his. “You did this.”
Tanner shook his head.
She grabbed his hands. She was still naked. So what? He’d seen her naked plenty of times and would do so again. “You did this,” she said again as the puzzle pieces slipped into place. When her scars had been itching, she’d been healing. Because he’d healed her. “When you brought me back . . .” Maybe even when he’d kissed her scars that first time? Was it possible? It must be. “You healed my wounds.” All of them. He’d given her his power, and he’d healed the flesh that had been clawed open—and the wings that had been savaged.
He’d given an angel back her wings.