Page 127 of Princess of Bael

My nails dug into his shoulders, my mind having no idea when I’d grabbed him and not truly caring about the how or the why, just thenow.

I returned his embrace with a fierceness of my own, telling him with my mouth that if he dared to fuck with me again, I’d end him.

It was a false promise.

One I knew I wouldn’t be able to fulfill.

Because I’d nearly lost him already and I refused to experience that again. Not when it took everything in me to bring him back.

He was mine to keep alive. Mine to kill. Mine tolove.

His palm released my neck, his fingers trailing down my spine to the base. Then he grabbed my hip and began walking backward.

I recognized the scents of his home. Of Heaven. The temporary balance settled around us, putting us at ease. I barely even sensed the ascension, my demonic powers having learned how to thrive in this plane during our last visit.

Or maybe that was the bond. Perhaps it was my link to Ezra allowing me to thrive.

I didn’t overthink it. I just accepted it.

He led me to his bed, pushing me down into the soft mattress and crawling over me with his myriad of feathers.

An Archangel laying claim.

An Archangel taking what he wanted.

An Archangel healing his mate.

All those thoughts ran through my mind at once, each one foreign yet right. Because I felt the residual energy crawling across my skin, coaxing me into my true form.

Except my hands remained pale and my horns didn’t sprout.

I shivered, not understanding this shifting dynamic or what it meant.

But Ezra’s mouth cooled my concern, distracting me beautifully with his skilled tongue.

I moaned, arching into him, and allowed this twist of fate.

“Ezra,” I whispered.

“Kayla,” he returned, his teeth skimming my lower lip.

There were no other words for me to say. No protests. No demands. I just wanted him,this, his mouth on mine.

Every touch seemed to balance the scales, causing everything around us to thrive with energy and rightness.

I wasn’t sure how I sensed that or if it was a result of us or the events we’d just endured.

But the very notion of stopping this overpowering connection made me feel faint.

“More,” I demanded.

“Yes,” he agreed, his palm skating up my stomach to cup my breast beneath my shirt. “Definitely more.”

I whimpered against his mouth, begging him without words to cool the fire burning within me. It was threatening to explode, to engulf us both.

My inner demon wanted out.

My power needed an outlet.