Chapter 1 Prologue

• Violet eyes met silver ones.
• And then, the time stopped.
• You can cut the tension with a butterknife.
• There was no God in this room.
• Only a gun.
• A sinner.
• And an ‘Angel’.
• The air in the suite hummed with a silent extravagance—mixed with the smell of sweat and sex.
• Thick, velvet drapes, the color of plum, were drawn against the city’s night light.
• Muffling the sounds of the world outside.
• Creating a suffocating intimacy inside the room.
• Tony was kneeling. And Angel was standing.
• Eye to eye. Face to face.
• The sinner was looking up. And the ‘Angel’ was looking down.
• And the gun?
• Inside the sinner’s mouth.
• Being pointed by the ‘Angel’.
• There was no distance between them.
• Their skin was in contact with each other…
• This was the second time tonight that Tony found something shoved past his lips.
• But this time, it wasn't pleasure that stole his breath—it was of how goddamn sexy the ‘Angel’ was.
• ‘Angel.’
• The name flowed smoothly on his tongue.
• The name suited him.
• ‘My ‘Angel’. Mine.’
• Tony found himself salivating more. Wanting more!
• Angel had sides to him that Tony hadn't tasted yet.
• He gulped.
• The cold metal was wedged between his lips.
• Making it hard to breathe and to swallow.
• Slick with his own spit and the taste of the man who held it.
• His knees ached from kneeling.
• Joints screaming in protest.
• But still, he didn't move.
• Couldn't.
• Wouldn't.
• No.
• ‘Never gonna let go.’
• His hands were still touching Angel’s hips.
• Like a devotee that’s worshipping his God.
• The vision in front of Tony looked like Angel had fallen from heaven—just to ruin him.
• To deliver justice or wrath, in silk and bruises.
• The ‘Angel’ stood tall.
• Trembling.
• Defiant.
• Desire.
• His royal blue robe hung loose from one shoulder.
• Barely clinging to the sharp edge of his collarbone.
• It was scandalous.
• Erotic.
• Obscene.
• A battlefield of a body on full display—thin, supple and graceful, with smooth porcelain skin that would bruise easily when grazed.
• Flawless, hairless—every inch was begging to be touched.
• It was flushed in blotches from rough touch and harder love.
• Tony’s cock stirred again—harder than earlier.
• Raring to have another taste.
• He never knew that he would crave a man’s body like this!
• He had always been straight as an arrow.
• Angel’s chest rose and fell rapidly.
• Breathless and shaking.
• Nipples tight and erect from the cold—or from an afterglow.
• Tony desperately wants to know.
• Angel’s lips.
• ‘God those sinful lips!’
• Red. Wet. Swollen.
• The kind of mouth you'd die to have a taste.
• The kind Tony had just devoured before going down on him.
• And there was no hiding the evidence.
• Tony’s chin was slick with it.
• He did not feel any shame for what he did.
• Only lust and reverence.
• The taste of the ‘Angel’ still lingered on the tip of his tongue.
• Addictive.
• Bitter.
• Sweet.
• Tony’s eyes stared up at Angel.
• Not with fear—but hunger.
• The gun between his lips trembled.
• Angel was breathing heavily.
• Shivering.
• He cocked the gun with a soft click that echoed like thunder.
• There was a hint of determination in Angel’s eyes.
• He was finally delivering his judgement.
• “I said,” he whispered, voice like velvet, laced with venom.
• ”I’m not an object.”
• It was an answer to Tony’s statement earlier.
• Tony exhaled slowly, the barrel was nudging against the roof of his mouth.
• Angel’s hand was now steady.
• Fingers long and elegant, clutched the weapon like a divine object.
• He refused to give in.
• Even with the pleasure still dripping between his thighs.
• “Nobody owns me,” he continued.
• Violet eyes narrowing.
• “Not you. Not them. Not even God himself.”
• He lowered the gun just an inch.
• To let Tony speak.
• But Tony didn't.
• He bit the metal instead.
• Hard.
• The crunch of his teeth against metal sounded painful.
• ‘This crazy son of a bitch!’ the ‘Angel’ cussed.
• A sick grin crept up Tony’s face.
• He licked the tip of the gun.
• Angel’s lips twitched.
• It wasn't a smile.
• It was him declaring war to Tony.
• “I own myself,” he finally hissed.
• Angel stepped back.
• Letting the hem of his robe fall completely open.
• Moonlight shone across his naked body.
• Glistening with sweat, and bruises.
• His thighs were full of bite wounds down to the sole of his feet.
• A testament to the way Tony had claimed him not ten minutes ago.
• But he wasn't the one conquered.
• Angel refused to believe it.
• He was the one holding the weapon, did he not?
• So why is it that he still felt threatened by Tony’s presence?
• The hair at the back of his head stood up, as if screaming at him that Tony was dangerous!
• Tony’s hand, resting lightly on Angel’s hips, twitched—then slithered around him like a snake.
• Cold.
• Possessive.
• Unrelenting.
• Two hands on his ass cheeks, Tony pressed sensually to it before placing his hands.
• Gently cupping now.
• It fit perfectly into his hands!
• Not letting the ‘Angel’ step back.
• Holding him in place.
• ‘Where he belongs.’
• Angel’s movement stopped.
• Tony ached to drag him down onto the carpeted floor.
• And have his way with him.
• To claim him all over again—slow, filthy and without mercy.
• He imagined Angel laying down on his back to the soft carpet.
• The sea of deep sapphire contrasting to his milky white skin.
• ‘What a sight!’
• Then kiss him until they both forgot that they were running for their lives.
• Angel pulled the gun out of Tony’s mouth with an annoyed ‘tch’.
• ‘Threatening him with a gun was useless.’
• A long saliva dripped down the gun.
• “You said you loved me.” Tony murmured, lips curling upward—dangerous and knowing.
• Angel scoffed.
• “You must be hard of hearing. I never said that.”
• “You said I'm yours.” Tony insisted.
• “No!” Angel pointed the gun at Tony.
• While his other hand reached for Tony's face.
• He wanted to tear it! Claw it!
• But unable to hold anything on the bastard’s face, he reached for Tony’s dark hair instead.
• It felt silky between his fingers.
• Then he pulled—lifting Tony’s head.
• “You were the one who said that! I never! I-I just moaned!” Angel could feel his face reddening.
• The weight in the air thickened.
• Tony’s silver eyes darkened.
• A storm behind glass.
• Still on his knees.
• Dripping in sweat and Angel’s taste.
• Mouth was bleeding a little on the corner.
• ‘Maybe from the gun,’ Angel felt guilty.
• And yet, even kneeling, Tony looked like a king.
• ‘A barbarian king,’ he groaned inside his mind.
• Angel hated him for that.
• And craved him all the same.
• “I'm not a masochist or a sadist,” Tony whispered, smiling.
• “But I like it. I like how you hurt me.”
• His hands gripped Angel’s ass.
• Fingers were brushing over his bruised hole.
• Angel flinched.
• In pain and in hunger.
• He could feel his dick hardening.
• Again.
• ‘He already wrung me dry earlier!’ he groaned.
• “Fine. You’re not an object,” Tony finally relented.
• Voice was quiet and raw.
• “But Angel…”
• He paused.
• “You’re still mine.”
• **