Falling Read online

  Rex stood in the tiny, dark herbalist shop, gazing absently at the wares displayed in baskets, hanging from the walls. Hunter enjoyed the fragrance of lavender, and their supply was low. The angel kept strewing it about on the floor. He loved the way the scent released as they walked over it. Rex reached up and released a fat bundle from a hook hanging from the low rafters.

  Stupid sentimentality. Especially since Hunter wouldn’t be going home with him. He hung it back on the hook. He then retrieved it and handed another coin to the merchant.

  Outside, the sun had slipped away. A hazy drizzle dampened the uneven streets. Rather than heading back to the alley, Rex walked uphill, back to the Royal Mile. He ignored the crowds and the wagons choking the narrow road and continued until he came to a pub on a quiet corner. The building was crude and rough, but he knew it well. The owner was a good sort and knew when to leave his customers in peace. Rex suspected that he was something other than human himself, but didn’t bother to ask.

  Rex settled at a table, a mug of good ale in hand.

  Every moment he spent here was a moment away from Hunter. Away from the stricken look he’d see in the angel’s eyes when Rex told him that he was leaving. As he brought the tankard to his lips, the pungent scent of lavender overcame the fragrance of the ale. The perfume of the plant had permeated the skin of his hands.

  “You look to be a million miles away.”

  He started slightly, looking in surprise at the stranger standing at the other side of the round wooden table. The man gestured to the empty chair. Rex shrugged and nodded.

  “You won’t be minding a bit of company, then?”

  The man had an open, friendly face. His deep blue eyes sparkled under a fringe of unruly black hair. He had the complexion of the Irish—fine fair skin and blue-black curls. His smile came easy.

  “I saw you come out of the herbalist. You a healer, then?”

  “No. I sometimes make liniments and such for the old folks in my area. I was just picking up some ingredients.”

  The other man sipped his ale, giving Rex a thorough going-over. “I saw you with a pretty young thing earlier, thought maybe he was your son. But now I don’t think so. His hair was ginger, yours is brown.”

  Suspicion began to creep over Rex. He stared at the man, trying to see, to really see. Was he using glamor to hide?

  “I’m Patrick. Patrick Keenen. Late of Dublin, now of wherever the wind blows me.” His rosy lips curled in a smile, a dimple playing at one side of his cheek.

  Rex nodded, declining to offer a hand. “Rex Clark.”

  “Nice to make your acquaintance then. So anyhow, I’m guessing that young man was your helper. And since you’ve parted ways, I was hoping maybe you needed an extra hand and a strong back.”

  He did look a bit down on his luck. His clothing was clean but worn and threadbare. And he looked strong, with broad shoulders and powerful hands. For a moment, Rex considered the offer. He could use help at the croft, but the burden of secrecy was too much.

  “My nephew is simply enjoying the sights. He wanted to go down and look at the gardens in the new part of the city.” Over the edge of the tankard, he caught a fleeting glimpse of frustration in the other man’s eyes. Or was it despair? These were desperate times in the human world. “I’m sure there are folks looking for day laborers. It’s nearly planting season.”

  “Aye.” Patrick’s frustration melted away. “Aye, you’re right. Do you have any suggestions about who might be hiring?”

  “No, I’m sorry. But I saw several good-sized crofts on the way into the city. You could try some of those.”

  Patrick nodded and downed his drink. He tossed off a carefree grin. “I’ll take your advice then. Will you be heading away soon? Perhaps I can travel with you? I’ve little to my name, but I’d like to keep what I’ve got.”

  “We’re staying with friends tonight, but if you’ll meet me here, we’ll be leaving at first light. You’re welcome to keep us company.”

  “And I thank you.” Patrick rose, and to Rex’s surprise, he stood tall, perhaps taller than Hunter. He scooped a pack off the floor, and shouldered it with ease. He pulled a cap onto his head and started for the door.

  “Till the morrow then, Mister Clark.”

  “Tomorrow.” He smiled as the man left. He’d have to think of a lie to tell him about Hunter’s absence. But, in truth, it would be good to have company on the road.

  * * * *

  “He’s not coming back?”

  Hunter sat up straighter, trying to force the sick feeling from the pit of his stomach. “But he didn’t say that he was leaving without me.” He rose from the wooden bench, pushing his way past a fall of wisteria blossoms. He stared around, trying to locate the entrance that would return him to the door into that dark Edinburgh alley. That building was no longer to be seen.

  “Kokabiel. He didn’t know that he wouldn’t be coming back right away.” Brita looked unusually grave. “He has every intention of returning, but the time here and the time there flow differently.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I think it’s best that you stay with us for a while—without Reux. You need to learn how to be with others, to learn how to interact with people you don’t know.”

  He returned to the bench and sat heavily. “Who made this decision?”

  “I did. But it was Reux’s wish. It was a difficult decision for him to make.”

  “But you said that he didn’t know…”

  “He asked me to keep you here while he does errands in the city. But he intended to come back immediately. He meant to explain why he believes you should remain here for a time.” She sighed, clearly uncomfortable. “I decided to shift the time of his return.”

  “You did this to spare him the pain of responsibility, because he’s your nephew.” He leaned forward, covering his face with his hands. “How long?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll know when it’s time.”

  A cool hand settled on his shoulder, but he didn’t look up.

  “Kokabiel—”

  “Hunter. Rion Hunter. I don’t want that name.”

  “Hunter. This is Carly. We have a cottage for you. I know you’re upset, but I do think it’s best.”

  He glanced up, looked at the newcomer and froze. He’d seen women before, but never like this one. Brita was beautiful, but this one exuded something that was alluring and fascinating.

  Sex.

  Her large dark eyes were upswept at the corners, her plump lips curled in a friendly smile. Masses of lush blonde hair cascaded around her shoulders and down her back. Her body was vividly displayed in the deceptively simple gown she wore.

  He looked away quickly lest he shame himself. He didn’t want to be pulled from his distress at being left behind. He wanted to cling to that fear. He needed the images of Rex to hold him to the ground, to keep his brain from panic.

  But she touched him, and something inside him melted.

  “Rion. I’ll take you home now.” Her voice was low-pitched and alluring. Without realizing what he did, Hunter allowed her to clasp his hand and lead him away, down the shaded path. Briefly he glanced back at where Brita still sat shadowed under a spill of lavender wisteria blossoms. She looked old and wizened, yet still full of grace and beauty. Her head was bowed, yet she watched Hunter as he departed.

  He turned back and looked forward. The sky was vivid blue, broken by cottony white clouds.

  “Does it ever rain, or is it always like this?”

  Carly glanced up at him, a slight smile dancing over her lips. “It wouldn’t be so green if the rain never fell.” She continued to lead him onward. “It’s true of the trees and flowers, but it’s true of life as well.” Her voice was musical, its tones low and lush. He blinked, trying to clear his mind.

  The house she led him to was small, but neat and comfortable. The outside was plastered, a rounded thatched roof crowned the cottage. Flowers grew riotously, climbing up the walls on elaborately
crafted trellises. The fragrance of roses and lavender spilled into the air.

  “Brita said you like to read. We’ve brought books for you. At the main house, there is a library. You can find books on many subjects, and in many languages.”

  She opened the front door and he followed her inside, tearing his gaze from the hourglass shape of her body. The floors of the house were wooden, and large shuttered windows opened to allow the sun and breeze to move through the room. The furniture was simple yet comfortable in appearance. There was a fireplace and a bookshelf.

  “Your bed is back here, near the kitchen.” She gestured to a curtained cubby set into the wall. It was similar to Rex’s bed at home.

  Home… He needed to cling to that image. He pictured the small croft, sheep on the hill and Rex’s garden behind the cottage. Rex…

  “There is extra clothing for you. There are food supplies, but we all eat together in the main hall. You’re welcome to join us.”

  Gracefully, she moved around the room, pointing out lanterns and other necessities that he barely noticed. Hunter was fixated on the alluring beauty of the woman. When she caught him staring, he flushed. She smiled.

  “I confess, Rion, that you are an extremely handsome being. I’ve never seen one of the Fallen before.” She moved a bit closer and stroked a long feather on his wing.

  “You don’t have wings.” His voice was huskier than usual.

  “Not all of us do. The gifts of my clan are of a nature other than Reux’s.”

  She drifted to the corner where a stringed instrument was propped. He hadn’t noticed it before. “You feel extremely drawn to me, Hunter. That is the nature of my gift.”

  “Seduction?”

  “Of a sort.” Her fingers drifted over the strings of the lute. “If you’d like to learn to play, I will teach you.” She lifted the instrument and sat on a nearby stool. She plucked the strings and the music was so poignant, so pure that tears came to Hunter’s eyes. He’d not forgotten the loss of his own song. His throat burned with the need to sing.

  She played and it seemed to last forever, yet it ended far too soon. His heart ached to accompany her and yet he sat mesmerized, unable to turn away. As the last notes faded, Carly gently laid the instrument across his lap and guided his fingers to the fretboard. The first tentative notes sang through the room. From there, he wandered, explored. Hunter lost himself in the music.

  She rose and moved behind him, running her hands over the edges of his wings.

  “Have you flown?”

  “Once or twice.” He spoke absently, all of his attention on the instrument, the painful sting of the strings under the tips of his fingers. “They aren’t strong yet, and Rex always worries…”

  Rex. He’d forgotten about Rex. Hunter frowned and paused, looking back at Carly. “That’s the true nature of your gift. Forgetfulness.”

  “Sweet forgetfulness. Among other things.” She pushed his hair aside and leaned down, her lips whispering along the skin of his neck. She stepped close, between his wings, pressing the length of her body to his. Hunter’s breath caught. Her fragrance flooded his nostrils, going straight to his head. “Let go, Rion,” she whispered.

  It wasn’t that hard to let go, to forget all his worries, his concerns. Her lips skated over his skin, her hands wandered his body. She moved to the side, bringing his face to hers. Her kiss was sweet and gentle. Awkwardly, he set the lute on the floor and pulled her to his lap. His cock was straining and rigid. Hunter didn’t know exactly what to do, but his body certainly did.

  “Let go, Rion.” Her voice was so soft he barely heard it. As though compelled, his mind turned to Carly and her soft body, her bewitching fragrance. Once again she leaned in for his kiss. This time she tasted his lips. He allowed his to part, and to his surprise, she was in his mouth, licking, teasing his tongue to follow hers. Encouraged, he pursued the kiss, following her lips and her mouth, occasionally drawing back to look at her face. “Your kiss is sweet, Rion.”

  “It’s my first.”

  “I find that difficult to believe.”

  Carly smiled and cupped his cheek. She leaned in again, and he thought to catch her lips once more, but she averted her face slightly, pressing kisses on his jaw, nuzzling down his throat to the tender skin under his ear.

  To his distinct pleasure, his blood heated and his cock throbbed with a sweet ache. When Carly slid off his lap, he thought to protest until she took his hand, drawing him to follow her. She led him to the sleeping niche, opening the curtain to reveal fresh white bedding that was redolent with lavender. She let his hand free and slipped out of her clothing before Rion knew what was happening.

  “Carly…”

  “Shhh…” She laid her fingers over his lips. “This is for me, too.” She started to drop her hand but he caught it, lifting her fingers to his lips once again. One by one, he kissed them, drawing them into the warmth of his mouth. Her soft intake of breath was a reward that made him feel oddly male and powerful.

  Gently, she pulled her hand back and began to undress Hunter, tugging away the coarse tunic and breeks that he wore on the farm. Casually, she dropped them to the floor.

  “We have clothing that will adapt better to your wings. There’s no need to hide them while you’re here.” She then pressed him to sit at the edge of the bed, dropping to her knees between his parted thighs. “So pretty. Such a beautiful body, right down to your fingers and toes.”

  He smiled, taking a deep breath as she stroked the fronts of his thighs.

  “Undo your hair for me, Hunter.”

  He’d cut a great deal from the length when it quickly became apparent that it was too much to easily tend, but it still hung to his waist in a thick curtain. He sat up a bit, letting it loose from the braids Rex had woven into it.

  Rex. He saw his friend’s face, the roguish smile and dancing eyes, but all too quickly, the image faded. Between his legs, Carly was moving, her fingers danced over his cock, making his heart race faster. He leaned back, supported by his hands, and watched as her blonde curls trailed over his skin. She clasped his shaft in a surprisingly strong hand and stroked, just as Rex had taught him.

  But then her head dipped and wet warmth engulfed the head of his cock even as she fisted him hard. Her tongue dipped into the edge of his foreskin, gentle as a butterfly.

  Hunter was unable to hold back his gasp, incapable of stopping the sudden thrust of his hips. Every dip of her head took more of his flesh. Every stroke burned and seared him to greater awareness.

  His head rolled back as she fondled his balls, and when a wet, firm finger glided into his ass, Hunter’s strength failed, he dropped onto his elbows and, finally, flat to his back.

  She worked him to unbearable peaks then dropped him abruptly to Earth, over and over again. He shook as though with fever, sweat bloomed over his skin. Long strands of fiery hair stuck to his chest and belly. He needed to finish, but wanted something else. His breath ripped from his chest in great, sobbing moans.

  “You’re close. I’m ready as well.”

  He wanted to cry as her hands left his body, leaving him cold and bereft. But she stood and gently urged him farther back onto the bed.

  He lay like one dead. The swelling of his cock rested heavy and wet on his belly. When Hunter opened his eyes, he saw Carly move above him, pale in the dim light of the bed. Her breasts were perfect alabaster globes and her hair spilled over her body like molten gold.

  She mounted him, straddling his hips. She clasped his cock in her hand and slowly, carefully, lowered herself until her warm, slick body engulfed him. His cock pressed into her channel in agonizing inches. It was tight and blissful and so blessedly sweet. She rose a bit then dropped, beginning a rhythm that Hunter knew was the most basic, most common instinct, whether a man was angel or human or other.

  His hips rose to meet her, and she smiled her encouragement.

  “I’m so close already, Rion. So ready.”

  She leaned forward, supporting he
rself with hands on his chest. Her hips pumped against his and the friction began to overtake them both. Their bodies slapped together, her passage was slick and wet, he felt her juices slipping down his balls, down to the crack of his ass. Hunter forced himself to watch, to see the female as she rode him to her culmination.

  Carly’s eyes were heavy-lidded, her chin dropped and she rode him with wild abandon, crying out deep in her chest. Her passage rippled and gripped his cock over and over again. Her sheer ecstasy was too much—the friction on his cock, the pounding of their bodies, the image of her flushed face, her swaying breasts.

  Every muscle in his body went tight. Hunter flexed and clasped her hips, holding her steady as he pounded upward into her body. The seed left his body in pulsing, grabbing spasms, slipping from her passage back to his groin in a slick, delicious puddle.

  Carly moaned again as his enthusiastic climax pulled her along to another orgasm. Even when he had no more seed to spend, she kept him hard, milking him for every last second that he had to offer.

  His body went limp, his heart pounding. His breath rasped from his lungs in panting bursts. Carly didn’t move, she remained as she was, supported on rigid arms, moving slightly to allow his cock to slide from her body. He wanted to reach up, to hold her body close to his.

  “How was that, Hunter?”

  He reached up and clasped her hands, stroking along the fine, warm skin. She was slender, her bones and muscles so very frail. He continued up her arms until he reached her breast, testing the weight, the texture of the skin. Abruptly, he leaned up, taking one pebbled nipple into his mouth, giving an experimental suck.

  “Rion…” She inhaled sharply, holding his head to her breast. He feasted there, enjoying the way she held him close to her body. One hand drifted up, fondling her other breast.