Epilogue

Ashriel still remembered what being embedded deep within Anniel had felt like. Heaven. He’d been a virgin for more than four hundred years, guarding his purity with utmost fervor and in a moment of drunken weakness…

No. Not drunk. It had been that red dragon. Remien Fyre. That bastard, son of a whore, had slipped something into their drinks. Liquid X.

Ashriel’s mind had already been running rampant with desire for Anniel. The Liquid X had been like tossing a spark on rocket fuel.

After falling from grace, he’d returned, shamed to Angeloria, home of all holy warriors. He withstood being deplumed and cast out. He never realized how devastating being deplumed was. So when he finally opened his eyes and found himself lying face down upon an angel-sized bed in what looked like Alpha 7, surrounded by a large group of outcast reapers, he knew he’d been unconscious for many moon cycles when he saw that his whole plumage had grown back.

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty.”

It took everything he had not to snarl at Natanael’s happy face. His Mohawk was an outrageous shade of crimson that only served to remind Ashriel of a certain weredragon with blood-red hair.

Slowly, Ashriel rose from the bed. His hair was too long. He usually kept it a few inches below his shoulders. It came down to his waist now. He clenched his teeth in anger.

Ignoring the questioning looks, he walked out of the room he was in.

Alpha 7’s corridors were a soft pearly grey, so pale it was almost white. The floors gleamed black and the overhead lighting simulated muted sunshine. A few Holographic pictures along some of the walls showed scenes of open sky and billowy clouds.

Ashriel ignored it all, his eyes riveted to the Alpha Angel approaching him.

Remien Fyre’s grin was wide enough to be insulting. “Holy shit. You’re finally up. I’m so glad, Ash. Let me be the first to welcome you aboard Alpha 7.”

The insipid weredragon raised his hand in greeting.

Ashriel raised his hand to wrap his fingers around the idiot’s throat.

Being an even seven feet tall gave Ashriel an advantage over the six-foot-three Alpha Angel. He effortlessly held him several inches off the floor against the wall. Ashriel spread his wings out and went nose to nose with Remien Fyre. He wanted to watch the bastard’s pretty green eyes bulge as he choked the life out of him.

“Remi. Let him go you big bastard.”

A tiny, very pregnant girl pummeled Ashriel’s back, and though he really wanted to strangle Remien Fyre, he couldn’t stand to hear a female weeping hysterically while he killed the father of her unborn babes.

Ashriel let Remi drop like a sack of feces to the floor.

Rowie crawled over her mate, brushing his locks from his face as he coughed and tried to breathe.

Ashriel had to admit, the weredragon’s face was a very nice shade of purple, although it did clash with his crazy red hair. No one should have hair that color. It was absolutely scandalous, sinful.

“God, what did you do?” a feminine voice demanded behind him.

Ashriel stiffened. Oh, no. He wasn’t prepared to face her yet. Perhaps if he just kept his back to her, ignored her, she’d go away.

Anniel stepped around him. She was tall for an Edenian female, though she still came up to his nose. She stepped into him, her face angry. He felt her breasts press against his chest, tormenting him with the memories of what they had felt like in his hands, their taste in his mouth.

God help him. He clenched his fists, fighting his weakness.

“How dare you hurt Remi. Why don’t you pick—“

Ashriel had her in his arms, pinned against the wall before he knew what he was doing. He hungered for the taste and feel of her again. His mouth was on hers, his tongue exploring the sweet flavor of her lips and mouth. Her fingers sank into his hair, but instead of tugging him away, she pulled him closer.

He ground his erection against her and she arched rubbing against him.

He was weak of flesh, unworthy, lustful. At last, he’d succumbed to his baser nature. Shame chased away desire and he stepped away from her, still shaking from lust burning like a fevered disease within his body.

“I’m… I’m fallen,” he whispered in self-disgust, closing his eyes.

The stinging slap to his face had him opening them in shock.

Anniel looked up at him, her eyes full of hurt, anger.

“You bastard,” she choked back a sob. “How dare you take me up against that wall and then…”

She turned away, putting her fist against her lips. Diamond tears wet her chocolate skin. He remembered what licking every inch of that glorious brown skin tasted like, his flesh so pale against hers. How she’d thrashed against him as he fucked her hard and without restraint while she tugged at his dark hair.

Unable to help himself, he reached for her again.

“No,” she snapped, slapping at his hands. Her golden eyes flashed angrily. “Don’t. Don’t you ever try to touch me again.”

Ashriel closed his fist, his heart breaking as he watched the female he’d always wanted since he was only seventy five springs old walk away. By Seraphian standards, he’d been merely a boy back then, his wings covered with baby down. Still the dark-skinned beauty with the green gold eyes had fascinated him. But he was forbidden to touch her, forbidden to love her. Reapers must remain chaste in their vocation, or fall into temptation like Davariel.

Still, he’d loved Anniel, desired her from the moment his brother had flaunted his latest conquest before Ashriel’s nose, cruelly taunting him. His brother had gone into lurid detail how he’d deflowered the young girl, what being embedded in her lush depths had felt like only to laugh at the way Ashriel’s soctanal had tented with his arousal at the stories.

Garethiel hadn’t cared about Anniel. She’d been one of many for him, making Ashriel feel even more depraved for lusting after one of his brothers many conquests.

If Anniel ever found out Ashriel was Garethiel’s twin brother… she’d hate him even more.

He closed his eyes, his mind a reeling. “I must leave here.”

“Hey, come on, man. Don’t be an ass.”

Ashriel snapped his eyes open and glared at Remien, who’d already recovered. The fool dared stand before him, blocking his path. Ashriel’s hands itched to tear him limb from limb, but he restrained himself for Rowie’s sake, and because he was sure Anniel would hate him even more if he killed the annoying red weredragon. “Get out of my way,” Ashriel snarled.

Once the stupid weredragon moved to the side, Ashriel strode forward. He just needed to convince Natanael to loan him his cruiser. He had a mission he’d never accomplished before being cast out. He would fulfill his required destiny, and although it would not allow him to ever return to Seraphia, he would at least have less shame to bear. Even a fallen reaper was respected if he finally found and killed the dark prince.

Lucien was as good as dead as far as Ashriel was concerned. Nothing would stop him now.