Restraint (The Revelation #2)

by Randi Cooley Wilson

“Forever is a long time,” I whisper, my throat tight. He gives me his sexy smirk. “Yeah. It fucking is.” I let out a strangled laugh as my knees go weak. “Okay, then, I would be honored to share your stone state bed.” Asher growls, and the soft glow from his eyes burns brighter. “Fuck, that was so hot.” I roll my eyes. “Abby and Callan are waiting for us.” He blows out a sharp breath. “That just killed it.”

“Why do I get the feeling it’s not nothing?” I question, allowing her to drag me forward. Abby stops and leans in. “All right, don’t snap or anything, but your eyes—" she quiets, staring at me. “My eyes what?” Her expression looks like a cat who swallowed a canary. “They’re glowing indigo,” she whispers. I freeze. “What?” I shout. “Shhh,” she scolds, quieting me down. “I don’t have indigo eyes. I have hazel eyes!” I state. She rolls her eyes before breaking out into more giggles. “I know, Eve. That’s what is so funny.”

lift it to my lips and moan in pleasure. “Oh. My. God. Asher.” My eyes close. When they reopen, Asher is leaning against the counter, ankles crossed, coffee mug stopped right before his lips, and an odd expression plastered on his face. “What?” I ask, wiping my face, thinking I have sleep drool on it. He swallows hard. “Um, I need to go. I mean, go shower. Yeah, shower.” He rushes out of the kitchen.

“Good night, Callan,” I throw over my shoulder while Asher practically drags me out of the kitchen. “Nite, cutie. Asher.” “Are you going to tell me what that was about?” I ask, as soon as we’re in the upstairs hallway. “There’s only one reason Callan can’t sleep, and that’s from lack of,” he pauses. “Sexual relations with Abby. It’s best not to get involved. One year, they got into a huge fight, and it was literally three months of cookies and entering baking contests,” he admits with quiet laughter. We stop in front of our bedroom doors. “Ew, that’s way too much information. Not to mention, I will never be able to eat another one of his cookies again, at least with a serious expression. Or any of his baked goods for that matter,” I add with a scrunched face. He laughs loudly.

The brightness of the room is shining through my eyelids, forcing me to open them. I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes to find a very angry Michael positioned at the end of the bed. The archangel is standing at his full height, shoulders back, arms crossed, staring down at the bed where Asher and I are sleeping. Together. It’s at this realization that I notice the light in the room isn’t just from the morning sun peeking through the curtains. It’s emanating from the warrior of Heaven himself. Crap. Crap. Crap. The muscle in Michael’s jaw is thrumming as a result of how hard he’s clenching his teeth. I shake Asher in an attempt to wake him. He moans and grabs at me to pull me back down. “If you want to touch me, siren, there is a place lower that is completely awake and aching for you,” he mumbles. Oh. My. God. My entire face turns crimson, and I pray to God to end my misery. “Asher,” I say in a deep voice, and elbow him in the stomach. That gets him to sit straight up. “What the he—” He stops as soon as he sees Michael. “This is certainly an interesting turn of events, Mr. St. Michael. Is it standard practice for you to sleep with all of your charges after saving them from a kidnapping?” the archangel asks, throwing daggers at Asher with his eyes. Asher rubs his face. “Well, Michael, since all of my previous charges have been male, no. It’s not typical.” I drop my head in my hands and groan. “It’s not what it looks like,” I attempt to explain weakly. “I disagree. I do ...

“Ilem jur pri tú-tim, ew tú-tim pri pos-tim ali ide in-zen, mání, vas-wís, ew ter-ort. Esta-de ai esta Ilem de, Ilem pos-tim in-saengkt pri, tú-tim,” he says in Garish.