Summon Toren(73)

“I’m sorry.” Ezekiel truly sounded it.

Nearly dying had that effect Skylar supposed.

“Prove it. Because what you just did was a joke where power is concerned. Without her pleasure you have nothing. And if you ever do that to her again, the relief of death will become your heart’s desire.”

Ezekiel continued to gasp as he nodded, and Skylar suddenly realized the weight of the entire event. This angel meant for them to be married. And that meant…that meant she’d have to play the game again. With him.

Skylar suddenly couldn’t breathe and rushed to the room she’d just left. She paced up and down, trying to think. Trapped. She was trapped. She needed to run. She didn’t want to do this, screw saving the world, she wouldn’t sacrifice herself this way. Couldn't. What was she thinking? Who was she trying to kid? She wouldn’t marry him. He didn’t love her. He hated her.

She spun when she heard the door open and Ezekiel came in, his head down. Like a dog that had been beaten into submission. To love her.

God, this was humiliating.

She sat on the bed and crossed her arms, fighting for courage just to keep from flying apart. Tears pooled in her eyes and she fought to keep them back, to stop them from breaching the control point.

God don’t sit next to me.

But he did.



** ** **





Ezekiel wanted to beg at her feet. What the angel had done to him hadn't just shown him his error, but made him feel to the deepest depth of his being.

She’d thought the angel was strangling him, but when Toren's hand was around his throat, he’d allowed Ezekiel to fuse with his angelic power. There had been a whirling rope of silver looking fire tied to Skylar’s soul and during those endless seconds, he experienced every sexual encounter that she’d suffered. And not one was pleasurable. Except with him. For just a millisecond.

And even though he hadn’t cared a thing about her pleasure she’d cared about his. She’d cared about him. Which explained her anger with him. Not anger—hurt. Devastation. He'd given hope then selfishly snatched it away. He was lower than a worm. And if he didn’t show her how sorry he was, he’d die.

Only how did he do that without looking like a lying fake? Why should she believe such a drastic turn around?

Ezekiel slid to the floor and decided begging her for forgiveness was the least he could do. He held on to her legs and didn’t let her resist. “Please you have to believe me, I didn’t know, I didn’t know, I had no clue, I’m so sorry, so sorry, please forgive me.” Pain constricted his chest until he couldn’t breathe. “Please forgive me.” He laid his head on her lap and wrapped his arms around her.

He stayed there as long as she allowed, whispering his regret over and over to her. When her fingers found their way into his hair and began stroking, Ezekiel looked up at her and found her staring toward the window with tears brimming in her eyes and her chin trembling.

“It’s alright.” Her whisper held that melodic twangy accent. How had he not seen how sweet it was? “It isn’t your fault. You weren’t taught any better.”

Ezekiel closed his eyes at how amazing her forgiveness felt. Nearly as good as her fingers stroking at his neck now. He went back to his spot in her lap, arms embracing her, recalling what else the angel had imparted to him. How much she enjoyed when he’d…God, he needed to make that right. Show her. But how? He was so inexperienced.





** ** **



Skylar was fighting herself and losing. Half of her fought to hold on to the bitter anger she kept inside but there was a part of her that was too damn hungry for what he was offering. Real affection, real regret, real…anything.

It felt good in that desperate moment. His short cropped hair felt good. His words felt good. His hot breath penetrating her jeans felt good.

It was like a dam where the water slowly rose and pushed against its barrier. With every second, it pushed a little more until Skylar was at the breaking point. The problem was, what needed out didn’t feel very lady like. He already saw her as the great and terrible whore of America and lo and behold she could feel her inner slut, that hidden woman in her, the one desperate for real love and passion, raging to live for the first time.

Fresh memories of how he felt when he was inside her erupted her core with a heat so hot and hard, she whimpered from it.

He lifted his head from her lap, concern on his cute—no, freaking gorgeous—face.

“Are you okay?”

She bit her lower lip and shook her head. She couldn’t even speak. She was bursting at the seams with need and longing. Oh God, so much need.

“What…can I do?”