Free Underworld Lover (A Guardian Angel Romance #2) by haron Hamilton Page B

could make this a day of rest. He chortled at the joke, quite sure no bolt of lightning could reach him here in the Underworld. He was safe in the dark world, far beyond Father’s meddling ways.
    He wondered if Father liked birds, since he made angels. Been a number of years since he had made any with wings, though. Probably wings scared people too much, Josh thought. Wait ‘til they get a look at Peter’s clawed, black-winged dark angels dripping in sandalwood oil and ashes. He knew there would be blood, lots of it, in the coming days. He bet humans wouldn’t want to look at another winged animal for centuries after they were hit by what he knew was coming.
    There it was again, the little twitter, the song projecting from a tiny body that seemed almost to explode it was so loud. Where do they learn this? Who teaches them to sing? He imagined what it would feel like inside a little blue egg under one of those little birds, listening, learning, and waiting to be born.
    He rather felt like that now.
    He nestled down between the light pink sheets and overstuffed rose-colored satin coverlet. The silks covering Helena’s canopied bed blew in the gentle morning breeze. He could smell her, Helena, with all the curves and all the practiced movements an experienced companion had. She was simply the best of the best. Her aura remained over his body like a thin veil. But even with all her moves, all the elixirs and spells she possessed, Joshua hadn’t been able to get it up. God how he’d tried.
    What is happening to me?
    The twittering got louder as the dark, carved door to the bedchamber opened and Helena, that vision of sexuality in her see-through pink peignoir, literally floated across the room, holding a steaming cup of coffee. He knew before he looked at it she put in a full one-quarter cup of heavy cream, making it a light caramel brown. She held the white mug with thin fingers, long fingernails painted a glistening red. Last night, her fingers held him in all the right ways as her mouth worked over his waiting member, welcoming him back home to the land of the living in the land of the dead. And yet nothing had happened.
    She’d tried not to look disappointed when it was over; he’d wanted to keep trying for at least another hour, day, week, until his plumbing began to work again. This was not like him, not at all. He had forever. His pecker was a mere mortal, after all. A little reminder of who really had the upper hand. Josh’s eyes flashed red for just a second before he got distracted with the filmy fabric that got caught in the folds between Helena’s legs as she approached the bed.
    “Your coffee,” she said, smiling. He wondered why it was necessary for her to put on lip-gloss first thing in the morning. The war of last night, the tussle and romp of bodies, was over. Certainly there wasn’t need for war paint. Or was she still playing a part? Her role in this grand scheme?
    He rose up and took the mug, accepting the kiss she placed on his cheek.
    “Come, sit here a bit with me.” Josh patted the bed next to his thigh as he sipped his coffee. Helena stopped and leaned her head to the right, like she was thinking about something.
    “You’re in a strange mood this morning.” She sat close to him and wiped a drop of the rich dark liquid from his chin.
    “I’m sorry about last night. Never happened before,” Josh whispered.
    “Yes, I know. You are my most loyal customer, and more.” Her sultry eyes pierced his chest as her need rolled down to below the sheets. “It was my fault, Josh.”
    A lie any practiced courtesan makes frequently, but a lie nonetheless.
    “Are you happy here, Helena?” Josh was surprised he’d asked.
    “Why Joshua Brandon, are you growing a conscience?” She looked at him the way she used to when she was human, when she had a warm soul, not a black one.
    “Any regrets?” Josh smiled and pressed for an answer he realized he would never get. But he wanted to ask it