We follow him in, and I’m surprised to find it’s a tent of offerings. This is where angels can bring their gifts for the Archangels’ Feast, and when they’re done, they can offer a prayer to one of the four altars.
“Whoa. I’ve heard of places like these, but I’ve never been,” Hayliel says, her eyes darting around the dimly lit space.
With everyone focused on the race outside, no one is here. The late afternoon light doesn’t penetrate the thick fabric of the tent, so the only light we have is from the candles lit throughout the space. A bit of a fire hazard, but I suppose fire doesn’t really hurt us, anyway.
I take it all in, feeling the familiar tug of old memories. Even though it’s only us here, I keep my voice low and whisper, “My grandparents used to bring me to a place like this every day during the Feast. They told me that our gifts and prayers were the reason our family has such a strong history.”
As we walk a little further inside, the room branches off in four directions, two on either side. In the center is an altar depicting the Archangels’ signature wings. They have twice as many as we do, and I can’t deny the sight is mesmerizing. Piled beside the altar are various foods and homemade treats that must be what others have already dropped off. And behind it, on the other side of the large stone wings, is a prayer bench. If you aren’t particularly impressed with one of them over the others, this is where you’d pray.
The silence is hard to get used to. Outside, a crowd gathers to watch a race, but in here … in here we can pretend that we’re somewhere far, far away.
I hear it then, the flap of the entryway opening and voices trickling in with it, and Raphael tugs us into action. We pile into the closest private chambers — the section dedicated to the Archangel Remiel — and secure the flap closed. Our breaths areheavy, mingled together as we wait, but for what? It’s not like we were doing anything wrong. What is Raph up to?
Hayliel stands between us, listening to the soft murmurings of whoever joined us. I can’t make out their words, but as the seconds tick by, I realize I don’t really want to. How can I focus on a stranger’s conversation when the angel I want is so close? Despite the barrier of our clothes, her heat and the pounding of her heart surrounds me as we stand still, fixating on the possibility of someone finding the three of us in here together.
Raphael must sense it too, must feel the ache of want just as surely as I do, because he tilts her head up and kisses her. I can’t look away.
Their lips lock, tongues darting out in a dance that looks almost choreographed. As if they’ve been kissing like this their entire lives. Her breath hitches and she melts into his embrace. She wants this, I realize. And as much as I keep telling myself to leave, to give them privacy, I can’t tear my eyes away.
Something shifts in my mind, like someone is tapping on an invisible barrier. I focus on letting them in, and then I hear it. Soft-spoken words through our telepathic bond.
Fuck, you feel so good, sunshine. If I could kiss you like this every day for the rest of my life, I’d be happy.
She lets out a whimper that sounds as loud as a scream, and Raphael brings his hand up around her throat, gripping gently.
Shh. You have to be quiet, little sun, or someone might find us. Then we’ll have to stop. You don’t want that, do you, baby?
Hayliel doesn’t respond, only kisses him harder and pulls his body closer to hers. Her ass grazes my dick as she shifts and I have to bite back a groan. Maybe I really should leave. Maybe—
You like this? Having Theo and me surround you like your own personal fortress? I bet you can feel just how hard Theo is for you, how much he’s enjoying this.
A small, soft whimper echoes through our mental bond, causing my dick to twitch. Still, I say nothing. Part of me is worried that if I do, this perfect moment in time will vanish. Their kiss doesn’t slow or stop. Instead, it shifts into something more fervent and needy. Watching them is hotter than I’ve ever imagined, but deep down inside me, I yearn to feel her lips beneath my own.
Do you trust me, sunshine?
Their kiss slows, and for a second I don’t think she’s going to respond. They’re making out in a prayer tent while I watch on like a lurker. What other proof does Raph need that she trusts him? But even as I think it, I can’t stop the small sliver of hope that buds in my chest.
I hear her smallYesin my mind and wait to see what my best friend has planned, praying that it involves me.
He breaks the kiss, twirling her around and pressing her against him. His hands roam over her body in slow movements, his fingertips barely touching her, and I watch the path they take. She shivers, her hooded eyes locked on mine.
I think it’s time you showed Theo just how much you want him, little sun.
He pinches her nipple through the thin material of her tank top and she drops her head back on his chest, her eyes closing briefly. I take the opportunity to look at my friend, needing to know that he’s serious. I need to know that this is truly what Raphael wants because as much as I do — and by the Archangels, I want this — I’m not willing to ruin the friendship we have. The risk is too great. If things go sideways, not only do I lose my best friend, but I also lose her. I’d rather live my life without knowing the taste and feel of her if it means not losing the two angels who mean the most to me. And I’d rather not know what I’m missing out on.
Hayliel shifts then, tilting her head to gaze longingly into Raphael’s eyes. They don’t say a word, at least not out loud, but when her eyes flash back to mine, I know they’ve agreed on something.
There’s another tug in my mind before her warm voice filters through.
Only if you want it too.
Her words open a floodgate inside me. All the need and want I’ve been suppressing comes loose, threatening to topple me to the fucking ground, but I don’t fall.
Instead, I reach for her, pulling her into a kiss I’ve only been dreaming about for weeks. The spark that travels through me when our lips touch doesn’t surprise me, but I don’t expect the surge of possessive hunger that flares bright and hot in the pit of my stomach.
She gasps, mouth falling open, and I seize the moment, sweeping my tongue inside to battle with hers. It’s all consuming, the need to taste more of her, take more of her. All of her. It’s like the world has melted away except for this single point of light in the dark. My firefly.
Raphael’s hand travels between us, moving to the juncture of her thighs where he strokes her over the fabric of her shorts, and I groan through our mental connection. He must touch a spot that feels good because she fists my hair, pulling me deeper into the kiss. By the Archangels, this woman owns me.
