Page 123 of The Gathering
“Look for something to drink.”
Saint Sahvrin’s Soldier
Bishop went along the hall, opening doors.
“Oh, here,” Beth called across from him. “It’s an office but has a fridge.”
He entered the spacious room, looking around. Definitely one of the Kings’ judging by the expensive furniture and art pieces. His mind returned to spinning worst case scenarios in vivid detail while Beth called out fridge items.
“They have water and apple juice and orange too if you prefer that.”
“Water,” he said, while moving through options to every problem thatmighthappen, looking for theonewrong move he shouldn’t make.
She handed him an orange juice, already opened. He looked at her. “I said water.”
Her surprise flashed before she hurried back to fridge. “I thought you could use the vitamin C,” she said, her angelic tone punching him in the stomach.
She stood before him, fighting to open the water, tears spilling over her cheeks.
“Fuck,” he gasped, pulling her to him.
“Not much has changed with me,” she squeaked in his chest. “Still cry if the wind blows wrong.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t…”
“You’re okay,” she assured in a tiny wail, her need for that to be true hitting like a system override.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he soothed, petting her.
“I meant it’s okay that you’renotokay, you get to be human too?” she fussed, raising the water up that was trapped between them.
He took it and she tried to take the orange juice, but he brought it to his mouth and drank every drop. He tossed the empty bottle over his shoulder and started on the water, her tiny giggle taking a chunk out of his misery.
“Wow, youwerethirsty,” she praised, as if having basic needs was a job to be proud of.
He tossed the water bottle next and pulled her to him, kissing her sweet mouth till she became the woman he’d made and the angel he craved. And thatbossygirl he’d saved.
“I love every inch of you,” he swore, holding her face in both hands, kissing all the angles. “Every beautiful, blinding facet,” he breathed, feeling her arousal shooting up fast.
“Even the whore side?” she gushed, her hand a vice on his cock.
Lust speared him as he gripped her jaw, feeling the exact shape of her bone structure. “Especiallythat.”
The punishing need stalking her through his blood turned his mouth and hands into things of reckoning. Because of guilt. Everything about her required it. Her fuckingbeauty. Her reckless mercy, her illogical love for him. His insanity. That was her too.
“Get out of these fucking clothes,” he shuddered on her mouth.
Her gasp of ecstasy cut something loose in him. A different kind of fury.
He went to the door and locked it. Then turned, finding her standing at the desk. One hand over her womb, the other holding the desk edge. Panties still on. Bra. Both lace. Bloodred.
He studied her as every need unfurled in him. Stupid needs. Like understandinghowshe waseverything. Everything chewing at all his hinges.
He eyed the quake in her body. His own pulsed. His cock... his canines. But it was her awkward stance that made his heart pulse. The stance that said this space didn’t fit what her hunger called for. And she was too shy to know that about her hunger, too angelic to speak it. Until he unhingedher.
At the desk, he made a bed for her by sweeping one arm across the surface, sending every item slowly crashing to the floor. Then he scooped up his happy, giggling angel and set her on it.
“I’m eating your pussy first,” he said, turning her so she faced him then stepped back. “But you’re making me.”
