How to Seduce an Angel in 10 Days

Book 3: 10 Days

by Saranna DeWylde

Genres: Paranormal Romance

Synopsis

Drusilla "Tally" Tallow does. Both fallen and otherwise because she's got ten days of Heavenly and Infernal Parole after knocking Falcon Cherrywood from his broom. All she wanted was to settle down with a nice warlock, have babies, and grow old together. But she's got a bad habit of falling for the wrong warlock. She blames Cupid. Too bad her Heavenly Parole Officer is none other than the heart bandit himself - the newly appointed Cupid and current fixture in all her fantasies, Falcon Cherrywood. After smiting Cupid with a fireball, Falcon Cherrywood must now play the Diapered Archer. He can't think of anything more humiliating than flying around in pink wings shooting arrows into hopeless fools. Archery was never his strong suit and Falcon doesn't even believe in love. But more troubling are the feelings his sinfully irresistible parolee sets off in him - for only Tally has the power to make him believe in things better left to fairy tales, like Happily Ever After.

Release date: October 24, 2011

Publisher: Corvus Corax

Print pages: 272

Sample

“Where you going, witchling?” Falcon Cherrywood, looking damn good in his tux, suddenly appeared between Drusilla “Tally” Tallow and the broom check service—his massive body like a brick wall. “You can’t duck out of your best friend’s wedding. Especially since you were the witch of honor.”

A very hot brick wall. Heat radiated from him, but Tally couldn’t tell if it was because his skin was really that warm, or it was the blush flooding her cheeks at being in such close proximity to him. She’d had a thing for Falcon for as long as she could remember and just sitting next to him made her thighs clench.

Tally fought for control of herself. Inappropriate reactions to her best friend’s brother were the last thing she needed. “Midnight and Dred are gone, on their way to their honeymoon. All that’s left is drinking, crying, and hookups everyone will regret in the morning.” Or tears in my beer for the future that I wanted, but can’t have.

“My mother will hex me to the innermost ring of Hell if I leave. Don’t tell me you’re going to abandon me to suffer through the rest of this alone?” He arched a black brow as if leaving was the worst sin he could fathom.

The thought struck her as both the funniest thing and the saddest. Tally had really managed to step in shit this time and there was no scraping it off her shoe and forgetting about it. After everything that had happened, Tally had been terrified to even show her face at the wedding, but Middy said that she’d wanted her there—needed her, even demanded she be her witch of honor. Middy was one of the ones she’d hurt, but she loved Tally anyway. So Tally couldn’t do anything but agree to whatever her best friend wanted.

She suddenly realized Falcon fell into the same category. There was history between them, and it wasn’t pretty.

“I guess since I almost killed you, I could stay and buy you a drink to dull the pain.” She flashed him a halfhearted smile.

“Doesn’t count. The reception has an open bar.”

“Well, it’s either that or sexual favors.” Sweet Merlin, why had she said that? She rushed to cover her blunder. “And we all know those are a no go since everything with a penis this side of the Abyss is probably in mortal fear of me.” Shit. That wasn’t fixing it. By the way his eyes narrowed, she knew it was more like throwing down a gauntlet. That was just the way he was wired.

“I’m not afraid of you,” he claimed. “I’d fear my mother’s wrath for taking you up on that offer before I’d fear you.” He smiled, his hard mouth curving in a grin that was both boyish and all grown-up warlock at once.

Another blush warmed her whole body as she thought about what his taking her up on her offer of sexual favors would entail. Only things she’d fantasized about for years. “You’re really kind of a momma’s boy tonight, aren’t you? Twice in five minutes you’ve mentioned your fear of her.” Tally grinned and allowed him to guide her toward the bar.

“I admit it.” He shrugged, but laughed lightly. “After everything she’s been through, she deserves some happiness. I’m surprised she has any hair left after raising us alone. My brothers and I aren’t called The Trifecta of Doom for nothing.”

Yeah, there were three of them. Identical. Most witches had no trouble imagining themselves in a Trifecta sandwich, but Tally’s knickers only burst into flames around one of them—Falcon. It was his strength, his power, and his kindness, too.

Not that Raven and Hawk weren’t good to her. They were, but it had always been Falcon who was her rock, her touchstone, her fantasy. At ten years old, she’d proclaimed to the world she was going to marry Falcon Cherrywood, she and Middy would be true sisters, and they’d all live Happily Ever After. So much for that.

“You guys weren’t so bad.” She smiled at him, remembering.

“That’s because you were just as bad as we were, Tally.” He handed her a glass of champagne that had manifested on the bar. “You were this tiny, golden ball of pixie mayhem.”

“Things change so much, don’t they?” Tally asked softly.

“They do. You and my sister are both witches grown and we can’t protect you from everything anymore.”

His words twisted something inside her. “You don’t need to protect Midnight from Dred. He may have been an absolute shit at Academy, but they saved the world together. He traded his soul to save her life. You couldn’t ask for a better warlock for her. And more than that, she loves him. He’s who she chose.”

“I know. That’s why I’ve made very free with the open bar. It was all I could do to keep my mouth shut. I didn’t want to ruin the day for her.”

“Then get the bottle and let’s go to one of those pergolas by the lake. We can be drunken pariahs together.”

A bottle of Jack Daniels manifested and Falcon grabbed it as he offered his arm to her like a proper escort. Tally laughed and slipped her arm through his as they walked. She tried not to notice how strong and large his bicep was.

“You know, what I said about protecting Middy applies to you, too.” His voice was low, almost a whisper.

“Falcon—”

“I just wanted to make sure you heard it. That’s all I’m going to say about it. Well, that and let me have a look at your arm. I’m a Crown Prince of Heaven now. There’s no reason for you to be walking around with a broken arm.”

He laid his hand on her arm, which rested in a sling she’d blasted with faerie dust and glitter to make it more wedding appropriate. The broken arm was the only lasting effect she had from being possessed by a lamia, or “the great and terrible evil,” as she’d come to call it. The warmth of his magick suffused her and Falcon gently removed the sling.

Miraculously, the bones had mended and felt as good as new. Tally didn’t know what to say. So Falcon spoke again instead. “Now, we can go back to getting shit-faced and being anti-social. In fact, I wouldn’t mind revisiting the topic of sexual favors.”

Tally laughed again. It felt good to laugh. She breathed deeply, the fresh air filling her lungs as a profound peace settled over her. “I thought you said Starlight would hex you?”

“That’s if she finds out.” He winked at her playfully.

“Well, we have Middy’s permission. But only for a one-night stand.” Tally flung herself down on a mass of pillows that had been artfully arranged in the pergola for lounging lakeside.

“Oh, really? Well, I guess there’s nothing stopping us then.” He reclined next to her after shrugging off his jacket, brought the bottle of Jack to his mouth, and took a long swig. Almost a third of the bottle.

“Nope, nothing but good sense.” Tally held her hand out for the bottle and Falcon passed it to her. She took her own long pull and tried not to think about the fact his mouth had just been on the lip of the bottle.

A warlock was the last thing she needed. Her failed relationships—She cut her own thought off. Why was everything about a relationship? She was the one who’d encouraged Middy to have a little fun; why not take her own advice? Tally had to start living her life sometime. Why not now? Why not with Falcon? She wanted him. Why not have him if it was what he wanted, too? Just for tonight?

“That’s never been a deterrent for me.” Falcon smirked.

Tally rolled on her side and handed the bottle back to him, resting her cheek in the bowl of her hand. She licked her lips, her face suddenly warm as a languid heat stretched through her. “No? Then I guess we should get started. You strip first. You have to practice—I hear you’re going to be a centerfold in the Weekly Warlock calendar.”

He scowled. “Don’t remind me.” He took another long drink, downing the Jack like it was water. “No, I think you should go first.”

“Oh? Why is that?” For one horrible moment, Tally thought he was going to make some crack about how he really was afraid of her, of what she’d become. The lamia had been horrible, she couldn’t deny that—with the body of a bird and the head of a woman and a taste for human flesh, it was some of the darkest magick known. In ancient times, it had been used as a tool to punish evildoers, but it had grown too powerful and was banished to the Abyss. Until a warlock who Tally thought loved her had summoned one, using her body. In essence, offering her as a portal to the Abyss. She supposed she wouldn’t trust herself either if the situation were different.

“Because you already know what I look like naked.” He smirked.

She giggled with relief. “I was eleven and scarred for life.”

He reached out and stroked his knuckles across her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her breath caught in her throat at the tender caress.

“You don’t look scarred to me.”

She opened her eyes and met his stare boldly. “Then how do I look to you?”

“Like you’re fishing for compliments, my dear.” He still wore a smirk, but there was warmth in his dark eyes. Something she hadn’t seen there before. Or maybe that was just the whiskey? It tended to make everything languid with a sweet kind of fire, even if it wasn’t really that way at all.

“So what if I am? If you’re trying to get under my dress, a few words comparing me to a summer’s day wouldn’t hurt.”

“I thought the saying was get in your panties, not under your dress?”

“Not wearing any.” She bit down on her lip, before her mouth curved into a sheepish smile.

His gaze was drawn down to where her dress had ruched up around her thighs. “That’s a game changer.”

As his study of her traveled from the length of her bare legs, up to the low-cut bodice of her dress and finally to her face, it was as intense as if he’d explored her with his hands. Her nipples tightened in expectation, breasts aching to be kneaded in his strong hands, the throb between her legs hot and demanding.

“So was the way you just looked at me.” Tally exhaled heavily and the moment hung between them, gravid with possibility. Every cell in her body screamed for him to touch her, to taste her, to crash his mouth into hers and brand her with his kiss.

“Any warlock would look at you that way if you told him you weren’t wearing panties.”

“Falcon, I’ve been naked in your bed, which is a damn sight more provocative than telling you I’m not wearing any knickers, and you didn’t look at me like that.”

“You were still in Academy, Tally. And you were drunk.”

Tally snatched the bottle back, hoping for some liquid courage. She needed it to tell him this secret. After swallowing hard, she said, “I wasn’t that drunk.”

He took the bottle back from her. “Dragonshit.” He snorted derisively, before drinking the last drops of whiskey.

Merlin, but he drank like he was waging war on his liver and winning.

She licked her lips before speaking, as if that could ease the way for the words she’d say next. “Falcon, I only had one shot of tequila to ease my nerves.”

“Ease your nerves?” He looked genuinely confused. “If you weren’t drunk, then why were you in my bed?”

Warlocks could be so stupid. Why had she been in his bed? She rolled her eyes. “I will tell you, but be forewarned: If you ever bring this up again or tease me with it, I will tell Middy to curse every litter box this side of the mortal world to stuff its contents in your mouth.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Far be it from me to ever incite the wrath of Middy and that thrice-damned cat litter curse.” Falcon watched her expectantly.

He really had no clue. The words Tally had been afraid of suddenly weren’t so scary anymore. She was a witch who wanted a warlock. Maybe if she’d just told him what she wanted back then, she could have had it.

“I wanted you to be my first.”

“Your first what?”

“Merlin’s balls!” she swore. “I was naked in your bed, Falcon. What other first could I possibly be referring to?” Tally felt incredibly stupid now for being as upset as she’d been the next morning that he’d only come into the room and passed out next to her.

Falcon’s eyes widened and then he laughed.

She wished she had more Jack. “I’m glad my teen angst amuses you. I should have made you promise not to laugh, too.” Tally scowled.

“Sweetheart,” he drawled, no longer laughing, his gaze burning hot over her body again. “That was one of the most torturous nights of my life.”

“My turn to call dragonshit. You slept like a brick.” Slam-dancing fairies were having a rave in her belly—anticipation and excitement welled.

“No, little witchling, I did not. It took me hours to fall asleep.”

“Why? Was I on your side of the bed?”

He arched a brow. “Now who is being obtuse?”

Had he been tempted? She wanted to hear him say it. That’s the only thing that would make it real. “I don’t want to assume anything, Falcon. All those years ago, I assumed if I was naked in your bed, you’d know what was expected of you. And look how far that got me.”

“Tally, any thoughts I had about you then were inappropriate as hell. You were barely more than a kid.”

“So you thought about me?”

“I still do,” he said in that warm, languid drawl.

“Tell me,” she demanded.

His hand slid around the back of her neck, his thumb ghosting softly over the curve of her cheek. “Are you sure you want to cross this line? You know I’m not a relationship kind of warlock.”

“I heard somewhere once that a witch doesn’t have to buy the whole pig just to get some sausage.”

“Oh, really?” His laughter slid over her awareness like warm velvet.

Tally turned her face into his hand and dragged her mouth up to his thumb, where she swiped her tongue along the digit before sucking it between her lips. “Yeah, really,” she said after she released him from her caress. “Now, tell me how you’ve thought about me.”

“How about I show you?” His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her against him hard.

She twined her fingers in his ink black hair, her breath coming in short bursts. “Yes.”

Falcon shifted them so she was on her back, his weight pressing her down into the sea of pillows.

“Show me what you thought about most.”

“What if what I thought about most was you on your knees in front of me, your sweet mouth around my cock?”

His words were deliciously blunt, as hard as his cock jutting against her belly.

“Was it?” She imagined herself doing that very thing and licked her lips.

“I’ve thought about doing everything to you that one warlock could do to a witch.” He brought his lips down to the curve of her neck, his mouth hot on her skin. Falcon worked his way down to the bodice of her dress and bared her breasts—filling his hands with the firm globes. His tongue darted out across her nipple and she arched up into the caress with a small cry. “That, Tally. That’s what I think about.” His voice was a ragged whisper. “You wet and wanting beneath me, the taste of you on my tongue, and you making just that sound begging me for more.”

Oh, Circe! His words sent bolts of desire straight to her clit, her channel slick and wet for him. This was finally happening. She’d wanted it for so long. He hadn’t kissed her yet, and she wanted his mouth on hers, to taste him and the whiskey on his breath, to tie her memory of this moment to something tangible, something real, so she’d know that, too, had been real.

“Kiss me, Falcon.”

“I plan on it.” He worked his way down her body and pushed his hands up under her dress to grasp her hips. “I’m going to kiss you until you’re begging, just like I imagined.” Falcon bent his head between her parted thighs and kissed her just as he’d promised—the first stroke of his tongue against her cleft had her shuddering and digging her fingers into his back.

“You taste so good.” Falcon licked her again, his tongue working her slick folds, until he paused, his breath warm on her mound. “Shit.”

Shit? Shit? That wasn’t what one wanted to hear with a warlock buried ears deep in one’s witchy bits. Especially Drusilla Tallow’s witchy bits. Shit? Cold panic seized her. She’d been possessed by a great and terrible evil, and that evil thing had transformed her body. Given her teeth where all things male would fear to tread, a symbol of her power. But . . . she was cured. Healed. Unless . . . Had the great and terrible evil come back? Why wasn’t he doing anything—saying anything?

Oh, Merlin, had she killed him?

Tally propped herself up on her elbows, the formerly arousing sensation of his weight pushing her down now terrifying. What if he’d had a heart attack? What if the great and terrible evil—? A loud rumble issued from between her thighs. It was like the thundering of an earthquake.

She tugged on her dress, the fabric impeding her from seeing what was happening down there. Falcon’s grip on her thighs had changed. No longer were his masterful hands spreading her wide for his access, but they clung to her like a favored pillow.

The rumble she’d heard was a snore.

And she realized the hastily uttered “shit” was because he was drunk and knew he was going to pass out.

In her quim.

Shit was absolutely, positively, unequivocally right.

Not only did Tally have a comatose warlock between her legs, but he’d left her with blue bean, and pinned under his dead weight. Her magick wouldn’t answer her call, being unruly as it was since she’d come back from the dark side. It couldn’t possibly get any worse.

She gazed heavenward, a retraction on the tip of her tongue. Tally knew it could be all kinds of worse and pleaded with the Powers That Be not to prove it to her.

So of course, they did. It was only a millisecond before she heard voices that could only belong to the rest of the Trifecta of Doom.

Why hadn’t she asked Falcon to at least charm the privacy curtains closed on the pergola? No, she’d had to have the damn lake view. And now, Raven and Hawk were going to have a Tally view. With their brother half-buried between her thighs.

Maybe they’d just keep walking? All this lounging lakeside amongst a mess of pillows was very Jane Austen and if neither of them were trying to get laid, Tom Clancy was more their speed.

No such luck. “Falcon, hey we need—shit.” Hawk froze at the entrance to the pergola, looking much like he was a deer and Tally was an oncoming semi.

Raven was still talking as he came to a stop behind Hawk. “I don’t even know why you’re worried about interrupting. He’s not with a witch he’d shag. He’s with Tally and—” Rather than freeze as his brother had done when he saw the tableau laid before him, he launched himself into action. “I’ll save you!”

Raven pounced on top of Falcon and hooked his arms underneath his brother’s shoulders and hauled him backwards, crying out, “I won’t let her get you like she did Tristan.” The atmosphere crackled around them as Raven used his magick to boost his strength and sent him and Falcon both flying into the lake with a splash that caused the water to burst high up into the sky and drew the attention of all the remaining guests.

Free of Falcon’s dead-drunk weight, she scrambled to pull her dress down and frantically sought out avenues of escape. She considered crawling under the linen curtains of the pergola, but that wasn’t actually a viable option. Every witch and warlock in attendance had come running to see the spectacle.

Especially with Raven sputtering lake water out of his nose and crowing that he’d saved his brother from a certain doom in between the thighs of Drusilla Tallow, Great and Terrible Evil, Esquire.

“Tally,” Hawk began, a look of pity on his face. “I can teleport you home.”

The pity was worse than the fear. Tally hated being pitied. She squared her shoulders and drew herself up to her full five-foot-six inches and reminded herself she was a lion, not a pussycat. Emphasis on pussy.

“No. I will leave the same way I came. Through the front gates so everyone can see my ass before they kiss it.”

Tally strode boldly through the filmy curtains out onto the green and the crowd took a collective step back from her. She lifted her chin and Raven shoved Falcon’s still comatose body behind him.

All manner of things were on the tip of her tongue, but she decided silence was probably her best friend. She spun on her heel and stomped toward the front gates of the estate, reminding herself to never again break her moratorium on weddings.

Falcon Cherrywood awoke with the most gods-awful sound echoing in his head with the force of the report of an AK-47. It sounded for all the world like Death singing in his ear.

Not the proximity of the end of all things, no, but the Angel of Death, Tristan Belledare. The one Tally had sent to his great reward not so long ago. The bastard was singing “Cupid, Draw Back Your Bow” by Sam Cooke and at an unreasonable. . .