Spanked by an Angel [Notorious Nephilim 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Carolyn Rosewood Page B

happened?” Their story was getting interesting. And when they finished, she’d drive into Chicago and get a CT scan.
    “We went a little nuts,” said Emmet. “We drank a lot and seduced women, eventually discovering how much more they enjoyed it when…when two of us would share one.”
    Heat rushed up from Abigail’s abdomen, over her neck, and onto her face. There was no way to stop it. Images of fucking Emmett and Zach ran through her mind. Breathing became difficult as she remembered her lovemaking with each of them. How much more intense and erotic would it be with both?
    “We were punished for our sins by being cast down to Earth for the remainder of eternity,” said Zach. “Oh, and for shits and giggles, we can’t reproduce. That little codicil was courtesy of Lilith.”
    “The person you named the resort after?”
    “Her choice, not ours. It was either that or she’d burn the place down.”
    A shiver ran through Abigail. “What did you do to her?”
    He and Emmett exchanged a dark glance. “We rebuked her favors.”
    “So, you’re really not related then?”
    “Well,” said Zach, “not in the usual way, no. We use that as an explanation for the surnames and obvious similarities in the publicly displayed photos.” He glanced at Emmett. “Although, most of our guests don’t look too closely, so we aren’t questioned that often. The surnames of Fallon and Neville are twists on the words ‘fallen’ and ‘Nephilim.’”
    She nodded. “Very clever. Does the staff know? What about the guests who start asking?”
    “The staff knows. The guests…it depends. We don’t tell everyone. If they ask, we try to determine first how likely they are to become upset or afraid before we explain.”
    “So, that means you must have assumed I’d be able to handle it.”
    “We knew you could.”
    “Lucky me. That’s some story, Zach.”
    “You don’t believe us,” said Emmett.
    “Emmett, I’m not sure what to believe right now.”

Chapter Fourteen
     
    The temperature in the room seemed to have gone up at least ten degrees. Abigail excused herself and crossed to the kitchenette to retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge. When she returned, she leaned against the wall for support. The air still had that electrical charge to it, and even though the drapes were open and sunlight streamed in, the room appeared dark to her. All she saw clearly were Zach and Emmett’s eyes.
    Memories assaulted her in quick flashes, as if she were watching one of those revolving mirror balls or a strobe light. Each time it pulsed, a new image came to mind: Emmett’s hair standing on end outside the dining room, Zach’s touch sending jolts of heat throughout her body, their stamina while making love, and the things they’d said about this resort in the twenties.
    “You talked about this place as though you’d lived through it, not like it was a story that had been passed on.”
    She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until she heard Emmett’s voice. “That’s because we did live through it. Abigail, what can we say to convince you we’re not lying?”
    “I know that what I saw in the photograph looked like you and Zach, but it was grainy.”
    “It’s us. We can show you about a thousand more pictures if you’d like.”
    “Why do you keep those books around where anyone can find them?”
    Zach grimaced and cocked his thumb toward Emmett. “Genius here has been promising to move them for decades.”
    Emmett grinned. “Most of our guests don’t go looking for books to read.”
    Abigail took a seat again on the sofa, placing one leg under the other. “So let me see if I have this straight. There were twelve of you. You were supposed to help the people in the early nineteen hundreds find a more…delicate way of expressing their dislike of booze, but you got caught up in the whole scene yourselves. Your hormones got the better of you, and because of that, you were punished. So, what’s the punishment?