Company of Angels 02 - The Demoness of Waking Dreams

dress. Watched his fingers as they tweaked the pert nipple through the silk. Watched his hand as it traveled down her flat stomach, slipped up under the hem of her dress. Up the smooth skin of her thighs, to touch the front of her panties, a scrap of lace that seemed like it might melt away at any second.
    God, she felt good.
    He whipped his hand away from her and she laughed.
    Lowering herself directly over him, she rocked slightly, pressing the most intimate place of herself against his groin. Leaned down over him and whispered, “I asked you if you had imagined your cock in my mouth. If you had imagined it in other places. And now, it seems you’ll get to experience that.”
    Slithering down his body, she popped open the button of his fly. Unzipped it, and pulled his jeans and boxer shorts down so that his erection sprang free, harder than it had ever been. With such gentleness, she caressed him, sliding her hand down the length of him. He was about to burst.
    No.
    He grabbed her hand, pressed it away from himself and held it there, squeezing hard. With more force than he should, he knew.
    “You’re hurting me,” she growled.
    “I told you I don’t want anything from you,” he said to her.
    She wrenched her hand away. “Then let me go. You know you want to. This is all just a dream. There won’t be any consequences.”
    “Forget it.”
    “If that’s your decision, so be it,” she said.
    Something evil glinted in her eyes. Then the demoness disappeared.
    And he found himself back in the same familiar alleyway, once again assaulted by the scent of garbage and urine. Walking toward his fate with his gun held at eye level, wondering where the hell the demoness had gone.
    * * *
     
    Luciana slipped out of the dreamspace like a thief stealing away from the scene of a robbery.
    When she awoke, she was still handcuffed to the bed.
    On the floor, the angel still slept, twitching in his slumber, apparently caught in some nightmare. Whatever he was dreaming now was no concern of hers. How long he would remain asleep was entirely uncertain. He could wake at any moment.
    And she would be caught forever.
    She looked around wildly, hoping for some solution to present itself. If only she had a pick or even a hairpin…but there was nothing.
    No alternative.
    There was only one thing she could think of.
    Oh, God. Just do it, she told herself. Do it now, or you’ll suffer worse consequences.
    She sat up in the bed, as much as she could without waking him. Braced her left hand against the wall. Closed her eyes. Took a deep breath in. And slammed her right hand against the left thumb with all the strength she could muster.
    Pain seared through her as the bone broke. The quick “snick” sound it made was like a little twig snapping. She clenched her teeth to keep from screaming.
    Don’t think about it, she told herself, holding her breath as a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over her, threatening to sweep her off course. It’s only pain. Pain is temporary.
    The thumb gave way, and she slipped her hand out of the cuff.
    She took one last look at the angel thrashing in his sleep. And hoped whatever nightmare had come to haunt him was a thousand times worse than the pain she had been forced to inflict on herself.
    * * *
     
    Brandon jolted out of sleep, spiraling from the shock of his fatal gunshot wounds, covered in sweat as usual.
    But this time, his ear caught the scrape of a window opening.
    His eyes snapped open. His hand flew to his pocket.
    No watch.
    I’m awake. Not dreaming.
    Holy shit.
    The last image he had of the demoness was of her standing on the windowsill with the handcuffs dangling from one wrist, the glint of moonlight flashing off the metal. Her face turned toward him, green eyes fixed on him.
    “You may catch me, but you will never hold me,” she said, her hair whipping in the wind, wild and dark as she slipped out the window, to freedom.
    * * *
     
    “Luciana Rossetti has escaped. The safe house has been compromised,” Brandon said to the Guardian on concierge duty. “It’s my fault entirely. I still have no idea how it happened. I had her handcuffed securely.”
    The other angel, a distinguished older angel with gray hair and kind brown eyes, merely shrugged as he looked up from the desk, relatively unsurprised. “How do you think she has evaded our local unit here in Venice for so long? She is adept at escaping. Luciana is an extremely deceptive individual, something more of a legend