He looked down at the bed. His own claws had cut into the mattress. He hadn’t cut her—never would—but . . .

He hated his beast right then. She deserved so much more than he could give her.

His fingers brushed across the strange shadows of wings. A phantom image that couldn’t really be touched. Tanner pressed his mouth to the scar that sliced across her left shoulder-blade. She tensed beneath his mouth, then shuddered.

He stilled, afraid that he’d hurt her, but then he heard the moan that slipped from her lips.

Pleasure.

Tanner pressed a kiss to the scar once more. Used his tongue to lick. Her hips arched back against him. “That feels . . .” Her whisper was the most sensual temptation he’d ever heard. “So good.”

An angel’s wings were rumored to be the most sensitive parts of their bodies. That was why the fall hurt them so much. Why losing her wings had nearly destroyed Marna. But if he could give her pleasure, then I will.

His mouth feathered over her flesh. He was choking the panther back on his leash, and he wasn’t about to break her skin with his sharpened teeth. Tanner licked. Kissed. First one slashing scar, then the other.

Marna moaned and arched against him again as she rubbed her sweet ass against his cock. With one hand, he reached around and spread her legs wider. And he kept kissing her. She shivered against him and said the words that broke him: “Fuck me.”

Dirty words from such an innocent mouth.

He guided his c**k to her sex. Already slick but swollen from her orgasm, her delicate muscles resisted his thrust at first.

But not when he licked her again. Again.

She opened for him, and he drove deep.

The leash began to break. His hands caught her hips. Held tight as he plunged into her. Marna tossed her hair—and shoved back against him. Not gentle. Not easy. Her movements were as demanding as his own.

Good. He wanted her as wild as he was.

Their desperate breaths and moans filled the air even as the scent of sex filled his nostrils. The bed shuddered beneath them. Harder. More.

He wanted to feel her release around his cock. Wanted to hear the scream of his name once more. Would hear it.

He slid in and out, in—

Her inner muscles clenched tightly around him, contracting and squeezing all along the length of his cock. She came, and, hell yes, she screamed his name.

The leash tore in two. He exploded within her and erupted on a wave of pleasure so intense that the world around him seemed to fade away, and there was only her—Marna.

Her soft, silken flesh.

Her tight, wet sex.

The pleasure she gave him. Nothing like it. Definitely worth a trip or two down to hell.

Worth everything.

He poured into her, held her as tightly as he could and knew that even death wouldn’t force him to let her go.

“I can see your wings.”

Marna forced her body to lift, and slowly turned to meet Tanner’s bright gaze. His words caused a pang in her heart, and she shook her head. “I don’t have wings anymore.” It seemed so cruel that he would say that now, after all that had happened between them.

If only she did have wings.

He was on his side, watching her as they lay on the bed. His hand reached around her and stroked lightly from the scar on her right shoulder up into the air just a few inches above her skin.

As before, his touch sent a bolt of pure pleasure arching through her. So sensitive. She could almost feel his touch on the wings that weren’t there.

“I see them. Like shadows, rising lightly from your back.” His voice was a deep rumble of sound. He stroked her for an instant longer, and her whole body tightened at the caress.

How?

But then his hand fell away. His gaze came back to hers. “You shouldn’t have given me your blood.”

Her throat was dry. Probably from all the screaming and panting and moaning. How was she supposed to face Cody again? He would’ve heard everything.

Shame was a new emotion for her, too.

But she didn’t feel that shameful. Actually, she couldn’t wait to scream again.

“Marna.”

Oh, right. He was talking about her blood. “It seems like everyone else wants my blood.” Everyone but him. “Everywhere we turn, people are hunting us.” Not us, really, more her. And she’d dragged him into her battles.

“No one else gets so much as a drop.” His gaze held hers with its stark intensity. “No vamps. No demons. No one.”

It wasn’t exactly like she enjoyed being a walking, talking blood bank. But somehow, the supernaturals knew that she wasn’t like the other angels of death. She couldn’t kill them with a touch, not like Sammael could. No one ever went after him looking for a blood donation. They were too smart for that move.