He stared down at her, her liquid coal eyes gleaming obsidian in the moons luminescent glow. She cocked her head in an avian way, fiery red hair spilling down her curvaceous body. He wanted to take the silky strands in his hand and tangle himself in her wild mane. She moved toward him with a certain liquid grace, and beckoned him forth. She was clad in only a sheer silk dress that hugged her in all of the right places and hid away any lingering pouches of fat.
Temptation.
He studied her, his glorious pearl wings furling and unfurling again as he though. His glimmering gold eyes rested upon her back, noticing the absence of creamy wings. In their wake were leathery bat wings. They were studded with horns that were pricked in deep crimson blood.
In spite of himself, he carefully—yet powerfully—strode close to her, his bare chest slicked with sweat and grime. His silver katana hung primly at his side, a symbol of his heavenly duty. His square jaw worked and he touched his cheek as he absently felt the patter of rain on it. Pushing back his golden locks, he stilled; knowing the daemon was trying to seduce him. It was her way, she longed for him to fall and join her unholy ranks.
A pressure built in his chest as he looked at her hungrily. Unable to take it anymore, he pounced. He yanked her to him, gripping her shoulders tenderly, yet firmly, and crushed his mouth unto hers. She moaned gleefully and ran her hands along his toned stomach, tracing the planes of his abs all the while. Unbeknownst to the immortal angel, he had just committed the ultimate act of kindness and heartbreak to himself.
They twined together in that damp, dark street. A single light bulb flickered, and then went out, as if sensing their mood. Their blood ignited, pulses were picking up to the speed of a prize horse sprinting at breakneck speed, and fire licked their veins. The collided essences of their power cast a hazy gray fog around them. It buzzed with ancient energy that should not have been awoken. Their strength, their power, was great when they mingled together, sealing their fates and belonging to one another. It had become a tangible thing, something so powerful it could only be classified as one thing—love.
And so Jhason fell for Lorietha. He fell for a seductress, a fallen angel, a daemon. The one thing he was sworn against tempted him. Made him feel something other than obedience, something unnatural and not meant for those who served God. Archangels were not meant to feel, not compassion, not pity, just cool indifference. But he felt. Jhason, the archangel, was cast to Hell for emotions. The sad, inexplicable truth? He liked it. Craved and hungered for the high of endorphins and hormones.
It was a love fated to wither and die.
Temptation.
He studied her, his glorious pearl wings furling and unfurling again as he though. His glimmering gold eyes rested upon her back, noticing the absence of creamy wings. In their wake were leathery bat wings. They were studded with horns that were pricked in deep crimson blood.
In spite of himself, he carefully—yet powerfully—strode close to her, his bare chest slicked with sweat and grime. His silver katana hung primly at his side, a symbol of his heavenly duty. His square jaw worked and he touched his cheek as he absently felt the patter of rain on it. Pushing back his golden locks, he stilled; knowing the daemon was trying to seduce him. It was her way, she longed for him to fall and join her unholy ranks.
A pressure built in his chest as he looked at her hungrily. Unable to take it anymore, he pounced. He yanked her to him, gripping her shoulders tenderly, yet firmly, and crushed his mouth unto hers. She moaned gleefully and ran her hands along his toned stomach, tracing the planes of his abs all the while. Unbeknownst to the immortal angel, he had just committed the ultimate act of kindness and heartbreak to himself.
They twined together in that damp, dark street. A single light bulb flickered, and then went out, as if sensing their mood. Their blood ignited, pulses were picking up to the speed of a prize horse sprinting at breakneck speed, and fire licked their veins. The collided essences of their power cast a hazy gray fog around them. It buzzed with ancient energy that should not have been awoken. Their strength, their power, was great when they mingled together, sealing their fates and belonging to one another. It had become a tangible thing, something so powerful it could only be classified as one thing—love.
And so Jhason fell for Lorietha. He fell for a seductress, a fallen angel, a daemon. The one thing he was sworn against tempted him. Made him feel something other than obedience, something unnatural and not meant for those who served God. Archangels were not meant to feel, not compassion, not pity, just cool indifference. But he felt. Jhason, the archangel, was cast to Hell for emotions. The sad, inexplicable truth? He liked it. Craved and hungered for the high of endorphins and hormones.
It was a love fated to wither and die.
WSwilliams
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