Her Demonic Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 5) by Felicity Heaton Page B
Authors: Felicity Heaton
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cleared his throat, reined his anger in, and tried to sound more normal. “I know a place where we might find sanctuary.”
Veiron stopped and looked down at Erin’s feet and her bare legs. She was shivering again and it wasn’t out of fear this time. The night was cold against his chest and back too. Sharing body heat sounded like a reasonable way of keeping warm.
“Come on,” he said and crouched with his back to her.
Erin climbed up onto him, her soft body pressing into his back and her thighs against his hips. Devil, she did feel good right there, snuggled close to him. She settled her arms on his shoulders as he straightened, his hands under her thighs, supporting her.
Veiron blew out his breath at the feel of her fingers sweeping across his shoulders and then down them. They paused and he kept walking, concentrating on the action to purge his desire to absorb the warmth and softness of her caress. If he didn’t focus, his wings were likely to erupt from his back and knock her flying.
Not the way he wanted her to see them for the first time.
Her fingers drifted over his biceps and then followed the sweeping curves of his tattoos to his back. She held onto him with her left hand and traced the tattoo on his right shoulder blade with her other one.
“They’re very beautiful,” she whispered, voice soft but not from her concentrating on his tattoos and being absorbed in following the design with her fingers.
There was desire in that voice, hunger in her tone that made him wonder if she was thinking about running something other than her fingers over his back.
Just the thought of her sweeping her tongue over his tattoos had him hardening painfully in his tight black jeans.
“Thank you,” he uttered, distracted by his thoughts and how good she felt against him.
He fought the urge to turn down the next dark alley, drag her around to his front, pin her to the wall and scratch the itch he had for her.
If he could just scratch that itch, that dark hunger to know her taste and her body, he was sure that he could get her out of his mind and get it back on his real mission.
Wasn’t going to happen.
Veiron plodded on, hands burning where they touched her bare legs so close to her bottom, mind racing as she continued to swirl her fingers around every curl and along every spike of his tattooed right shoulder.
A shiver raced across his back and it had nothing to do with Erin’s touch this time.
“Hold on,” he said.
Time to run again.
He pounded the pavement with Erin clutching his shoulders, her rapid pulse thumping in his mind, whispering her fear to him.
“How many?” He felt her twist, knew she was looking back.
“Just three.”
He liked the way she said that. Just three. Like three Hell’s angels were nothing for them. They could handle such a paltry number.
He could, but with Erin around, he would be distracted, concerned that she might end up dragged into the fight somehow and injured.
“Veiron... they’re flying.”
That was just cheating.
Two could play at that game.
Veiron stopped, pulled Erin around so she was against his front, and started running again.
His wings burst from his back, he ran up the back of a parked car, boots denting the trunk and roof, and launched himself into the air.
Erin gasped.
Cold night air swept through his crimson feathers as he beat his wings, carrying them higher into the alley.
“You have wings. How do you have wings? You said you didn’t have wings!”
“No, you thought I didn’t have wings.” Veiron flapped them harder. Stay red. Please stay red. When his mood was degenerating as rapidly into anger and violence as it was now, it was normally impossible to keep the feathers on his wings. “This really isn’t the time for this argument.”
Erin mercifully remained quiet.
Veiron’s red gaze darted around, searching for the right direction. If he could get Erin to Taylor’s, he might be able to set her down and tell her to ring the
Veiron stopped and looked down at Erin’s feet and her bare legs. She was shivering again and it wasn’t out of fear this time. The night was cold against his chest and back too. Sharing body heat sounded like a reasonable way of keeping warm.
“Come on,” he said and crouched with his back to her.
Erin climbed up onto him, her soft body pressing into his back and her thighs against his hips. Devil, she did feel good right there, snuggled close to him. She settled her arms on his shoulders as he straightened, his hands under her thighs, supporting her.
Veiron blew out his breath at the feel of her fingers sweeping across his shoulders and then down them. They paused and he kept walking, concentrating on the action to purge his desire to absorb the warmth and softness of her caress. If he didn’t focus, his wings were likely to erupt from his back and knock her flying.
Not the way he wanted her to see them for the first time.
Her fingers drifted over his biceps and then followed the sweeping curves of his tattoos to his back. She held onto him with her left hand and traced the tattoo on his right shoulder blade with her other one.
“They’re very beautiful,” she whispered, voice soft but not from her concentrating on his tattoos and being absorbed in following the design with her fingers.
There was desire in that voice, hunger in her tone that made him wonder if she was thinking about running something other than her fingers over his back.
Just the thought of her sweeping her tongue over his tattoos had him hardening painfully in his tight black jeans.
“Thank you,” he uttered, distracted by his thoughts and how good she felt against him.
He fought the urge to turn down the next dark alley, drag her around to his front, pin her to the wall and scratch the itch he had for her.
If he could just scratch that itch, that dark hunger to know her taste and her body, he was sure that he could get her out of his mind and get it back on his real mission.
Wasn’t going to happen.
Veiron plodded on, hands burning where they touched her bare legs so close to her bottom, mind racing as she continued to swirl her fingers around every curl and along every spike of his tattooed right shoulder.
A shiver raced across his back and it had nothing to do with Erin’s touch this time.
“Hold on,” he said.
Time to run again.
He pounded the pavement with Erin clutching his shoulders, her rapid pulse thumping in his mind, whispering her fear to him.
“How many?” He felt her twist, knew she was looking back.
“Just three.”
He liked the way she said that. Just three. Like three Hell’s angels were nothing for them. They could handle such a paltry number.
He could, but with Erin around, he would be distracted, concerned that she might end up dragged into the fight somehow and injured.
“Veiron... they’re flying.”
That was just cheating.
Two could play at that game.
Veiron stopped, pulled Erin around so she was against his front, and started running again.
His wings burst from his back, he ran up the back of a parked car, boots denting the trunk and roof, and launched himself into the air.
Erin gasped.
Cold night air swept through his crimson feathers as he beat his wings, carrying them higher into the alley.
“You have wings. How do you have wings? You said you didn’t have wings!”
“No, you thought I didn’t have wings.” Veiron flapped them harder. Stay red. Please stay red. When his mood was degenerating as rapidly into anger and violence as it was now, it was normally impossible to keep the feathers on his wings. “This really isn’t the time for this argument.”
Erin mercifully remained quiet.
Veiron’s red gaze darted around, searching for the right direction. If he could get Erin to Taylor’s, he might be able to set her down and tell her to ring the
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