The angel sighed, shaking her head. “I cannot understand.” She raised her eyes to meet Althea's. “I do not fault you. A child is not
responsible for her birth. But what your father did, taking a human wife and siring children on her. I cannot comprehend defying God's will
in such a fashion.”
“Can you not?” Althea cocked her head curiously. “It's not that strange, you know. Lilith, my mother, had been cast out of the Garden for
having the audacity to not submit to Adam's rule. And my father had been thrown out of heaven for daring to question God's will.
“Was it any surprise that when they met, they each found a kindred spirit in the other? And I am sure it made their love all the
“The danger.” She set Lillian down in the stroller. The sleeping infant gave an inelegant burp, and nestled down in her bed of blankets.
Under the pretense of feeding John, she slipped the other strap of her dress off her shoulder, not bothering to raise the first. Now naked
to the waist, she took her son from Doriel's arms. She sighed contentedly as her son's mouth closed around her nipple and her milk began to
“Someone is going to see you,” Doriel observed. Her voice was low, but her eyes were wide at her shameless display.
“No one will notice who I don't want to notice. I am a succubus. I have more than enough power to hide us from prying eyes.” Little John was
not very hungry. After only a minute or two of nursing, he turned his head away from her breast. She extended her thought into his mind,
already going drowsy. He was well-content, warm and loved and with a full belly. She set him down beside his sister, hiding a smile. The two
were always happier when they were close; a situation Althea was sure would continue into their adulthoods.
“You cannot know what it is like, Doriel. When you are doing something you know is forbidden. The rush of excitement throughout your body.”
She set a hand on the angel's thigh, feeling the slow burn of heat begin in her middle. Did she dare? Could she dare? She leaned close,
catching her eyes with her own. She did not try to use her powers. Only the most basic one of all. Her own beauty.
“It rushes through you, making an activity which is pleasant into an ecstatic one. When I am bedding Yasna, or Alex, or Maria, or best of
all, some combination of them, along with my other wives and husbands, I know there are thousands, millions of humans who would disapprove.
Who would condemn our love as unnatural or evil.”
The hem of the dress had ridden high as she spoke, gathered in her grasping fingers. She pushed it even higher, exposing the lovely lines of
Doriel's thighs. Her skin was softer and smoother than silk. “Father told me what sex was like, among the angels,” she whispered. “Almost an
art of its own. But is there passion? Is there true desire? Is there the sense of spitting in the face of death itself, knowing our days are
numbered, and each crumb of happiness we seize is a candle lit in defiance of the darkness?”
Doriel shook her head. Althea could feel her trembling. “No. There is not.”
God, she was soaking. She was as wet as she had ever been for Rachel, or Maria, or Yasna. Or her wonderful husbands, for so she considered
them in her own mind. She knelt in front of the angel, parting her thighs. “Let me show you,” she said, pulling down a fragrant wisp of
“Let me show you.”