You guys are the greatest readers & reviewers, EVER! Thank you for helping this story of mine to pass the 100 review mark! In celebration, I am posting this early AND I have a gift for you at the end of the chapter. I hope you like it.

Thank you to Scarlet Empress, invisible reader, BelieverofManyThings, She-Devil Red, Elle, Darling Empress, Shawny.a, cawo114, and Kate for your reviews and a nice shout-out to Shawny.a for being reviewer #100! :)

Enjoy the chapter and forgive any errors I may have overlooked.

XIV

Lailah never could have imagined how much her regular sentry duty runs with David would come to mean to her. She had lived under the same roof as the man for over ten years, yet had gotten to know him better in the matter of a couple of nights than she had in all that time before. Despite all that David had been through, he was always positive, energetic, and light-hearted, and his faith in Lailah was implicit – something she had grown to truly appreciate. Granted, he wasn't the perfect look-out companion. He sometimes got bored a bit too easily for her taste and often dismissed suspicious persons just because they didn't appear "suspicious enough."

But when they did come across conflict with any of Dracula's spies, he turned out to be an excellent wing-man in battle, even with his extraordinary ability to take a number of hits before he was finally able to do any real damage. Lailah assumed that a part of him liked getting wailed on, not that he enjoyed pain, but he certainly got a kick out of the adrenaline rush that pursued, and by the time they got home to call it an evening, he was usually so pumped up, he'd beeline straight for Ana and the two wouldn't be seen for a good hour after that.

With all his quirks, though, David was a good man who proved to be exceptional company.

The two were on another one of their sentry runs as they carefully stalked the surrounding blocks near the bar. David had invented specific gestures and signals so they could communicate across broader distances without being detected. Lailah humored him, of course, but watching him treat this regular nightly occurrence like they were in the middle of a war-zone was hysterical to her and she constantly had to keep herself from laughing whenever he got really into character.

Right now happened to be one of those instances.

He was situated behind one of the gargoyles of the Istovar cathedral several blocks away from the bar, while she was hidden in the alley just across the street, making sure nothing missed his bird's eye view. She heard his call and glanced up to find him motioning to one of the apartment buildings a block or two down the street and she followed his pointed finger to find a small group of suspicious looking men exiting from a neighboring building, the lot dressed in leather armor, signifying who they worked for – Dracula.

Lailah watched them carefully from the shadows, preparing herself just in case they decided to come this way, but they ended up turning the other corner, headed in the opposite direction of the bar. When they were out of sight, Lailah relaxed, realizing they wouldn't be heading this way, so she didn't need to worry about them. But when she looked up at David again, he was waving frantically, trying to get her attention – albeit a little too late.

A large and unfriendly hand grabbed Lailah by the shoulder, pulling roughly to spin her around.

"What have we here?" the owner of the hand wondered aloud, and in a tone Lailah did not particularly care for. "A little whore looking for work?"

"Nah, she's dressed up too nice to be a whore," another voice said from the shadows.

"Maybe she's new?"

"Maybe she's lost."

"No matter. What are you doing out and about in the devil's district all by yourself?"

Lailah counted five of them – realizing that the group of Dracula's men she had thought were going in the opposite direction of the bar were these same men that were harassing her now.

"You're going to want to move along," the angel replied evenly.

"Ah, now why would we want to do that?" the leader of the group asked, showing his fangs.

Vampire.

Of course he was a vampire.

"Because if you don't go back to wherever it is you came from, you won't be leaving here with all your… parts intact," she said, looking him up and down and making sure he saw the severe disinterest in her face.

"Are you threatening me?" the vampire asked, getting in her face, trying to intimidate her with his size, but he was trying to bully the wrong woman. Instead of backing up into the ready hold of one of his companions, she stood her ground and stared directly into his eyes.

"Oh, you better believe I am," she replied.

"We outnumber you, lady, five to one. You keep up this pompous bitch act of yours, by the time we're done with you, your ass is going to be so raw, you won't be able to sit, let alone walk for at least a week. And that's if you last."

"Hmm… that should be interesting. I've never been raped by a man with a cock the size of a baby carrot before," she said with a laugh in her voice. That seemed to get the reaction she wanted and he went to slap her across the face, but she caught his large hand by the wrist before he could come close to touching her.

She crushed his wrist in her hand, the bones crumbling under her grip and he cried out, but before she could do any additional damage, she felt one of the men behind her grab her by the hair and tug hard, just as another sent his fist flying into her stomach, effectively knocking the wind out of her.

Before the rest could get in on the action, a howl echoed loudly in the air as David came roaring through the alley in his wolf form, effectively tearing through the small group. His killer jaws latched onto one vampire's head, tearing it clean off, the blood spraying everywhere before the body began to rapidly decompose as time caught up.

The distraction provided Lailah with the opportunity to remove one of the men's long knives from his waist and she slammed the back of her head into his face before running the blade directly into the femoral artery in his thigh. She then kicked the other who had punched her earlier, the force of her leather boot colliding with his face sending him onto his back. This gave her just enough time to turn around as the other vampire pulled the blade out of his thigh with a gasp of pain, blood pouring out of him like a fountain, the artery effectively severed.

He was so distracted by the bleeding, he never got the chance to see Lailah turn around until she grabbed his hand which was still holding the silver blade before ramming it directly into his heart. Not bothering to watch as he dissolved into ash and bone, she turned to find the leader of the group running away while David was fighting – or rather, toying – with another one of the vampires.

"Stop your teasing, David, and finish him already. One is getting away!" she shouted, pointing in the direction of the leader who just turned the corner.

David grabbed his current opponent's fist before it could come flying into his jaw and he snapped the hand back and then pulled the man forward. With a quick spin and a powerful movement of his hand, the vampire's neck was snapped, his head torn off his shoulders.

Lailah watched as the werewolf then chased after the one who was getting away, which left the angel with the final vampire she had kicked in the face earlier.

Though the bones in his face had healed, it was evident the carnage that was his group of now permanently deceased comrades infuriated him, and he quickly jumped up to his feet and revealed a sleek, black handgun, ready to shoot the otherwise defenseless Lailah where she stood. He pointed the barrel of the weapon at her face, but with lightning reflexes she moved out of the way, dodging the shot before grabbing the hand that held the gun to keep him from aiming at her again.

His instinct was to struggle against her hold, but her hand was soon over his face and he screamed as a heavenly light poured from her palm and seared his flesh. When he tried to pull away,the angel's fingers grabbed his hair, holding him in place as the radiant power poured over him, incinerating his eyeballs in their sockets before the rest of him turned to ash, leaving the husk of a skull in her hand.

She crushed it without a second thought.

Lailah was about to take off after to David to make sure he was alright when she suddenly felt a very dark and familiar presence standing behind her, the faintest hint of sulfur in the air shortly replaced by a heady, masculine aftershave and just a hint of leather. She felt her heart plummet into her stomach as she turned around slowly to find the shadowed figure of Azazeal standing a few feet behind her.

It had been over three-hundred years since she had seen him, and yet he was exactly as she remembered him – dressed in his usual black slacks, white shirt, skinny black tie, and red-satin lined mid-length black trench. He was wearing his leather motorcycle gloves, a lighter in his hand. He brought the flame towards his face to light the cigarette between his lips.

The small flame illuminated his eyes, which were just as they were when she last saw him – gorgeous blue irises with that reddish gold ring around each pupil. The mark of a fallen angel.

The look he was giving her made her feel self-conscious, as if she was standing before him without a stitch of clothing on. It infuriated her that he was still so brazen, but at the same time it sent a delightful chill down her spine.

"Hello, lover," he said, breathing in deep, the cigarette still between his lips, before he slowly exhaled a puff of almost sweet-smelling smoke into the air above him, his head craned back slightly as if he was purposefully showing off his neck and sharp jawline. "Fancy running into you."

Azazeal ran his eyes over Lailah in a single slow sweep, his gaze full of wicked intentions as he drank her in – from the black tuxedo-styled jacket and loose-fitting blouse, all the way down to the cool leather of her skin-tight pants and boots.

"I never thought I say it, but you do look good in pants. Although I always preferred you in a skirt."

Lailah was suddenly in front of him and he felt the sharp and slightly anticipated sting of her hand colliding against his face, the well-earned smack taking him off-guard only somewhat.

"Well," he said after the shock subsided, "I'm happy to see you, too."

She raised her hand to hit him again, but he caught her wrist before she could get away with it and he held it there firmly.

"Before you go wailing on me," he said, the cigarette between his fingers now as he pointed at her, "I want you to know that I come in peace. I'm not here to harass you or anything."

"I thought I made it abundantly clear the last time our paths crossed that I never wanted to see you again," she snapped, tugging out of his hold.

"You did, your majesty, but I'm not exactly in this city of my own free will, now am I?" he asked.

"That's right – I heard Dracula had summoned you. Thanks for being a total ass, by the way, giving that arrogant vampire the intimate details of our past relationship. I've thoroughly enjoyed being gawked at, not to mention sexually harassed."

"Now, now, pet, that's not entirely my fault," Azazeal insisted. "He summoned me and demanded I tell him everything I knew about you."

He watched in amusement as Lailah's eyes widened in a mixture of shock and fear.

"Did you?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Of course I didn't," he replied, almost offended. "Although, he thinks I did. But I didn't. I would never betray your trust like that. Not after everything we've been through."

But it was clear she wasn't buying what he was selling.

"You see, that's funny, because the Count seems to believe he knows all the ins and outs of our relationship – my sexual preferences are definitely something he likes to bring up on a regular basis."

"Alright, I confess, I did tell him about that. But that's only because I rave about you constantly. Even after all these years. You were always the best lay I ever had."

Lailah moved forward to hit him again, and though he took a step back, holding his hands up in defense, she managed to pop him in the nose with her fist.

"Woah, woah! Babe! Calm down," he said quickly. "If I had known you'd get your panties in a twist over it, I wouldn't have said anything! Speaking of which, are you even earing any? Those pants look painted on…" and he craned his head as if to get a better view of her backside. She sent him a warning look.

"Do you want me to hit you again?"

He actually thought about it.

"I see you haven't changed at all."

"Though you have," he pointed out rather candidly. "It's like you've got a stick up your ass – you remind me of Michael," and he made a face. "How is heaven's Hitler, anyway? Does he miss me at all?"

"Nobody misses you, Azazeal," Lailah replied.

"Not even you?" he asked, a knowing look in his eyes.

"I haven't missed your vulgarity, if that's what you're wondering," she said, when they were interrupted by the sound of a howl off in the distance and a ferocious growl. Lailah turned, ready to run to David's aid, when Azazeal grabbed her by the arm, stopping her before she could take off.

"Leave him. He'll be fine," he insisted. "Besides, I wanted to talk to you for a bit without someone eavesdropping."

"Why are you here, Azazeal?" she finally asked him.

"Dracula summoned me to ask me about you – went all Spanish Inquisition on me."

"I already know that. I mean, why are you still here?"

"I'm stuck here, like you," he explained. "Have been for several weeks now. After I told him what he wanted to hear, he let me go and I've been kinda wandering around ever since – seeing the sights, visiting old friends…"

"You didn't tell him about my father, did you?" Lailah asked, a hint of concern in her voice, but he shook his head.

"Of course not. I'd never do that to you – or to your father. I'd never sink that low," he answered truthfully and relief visibly washed over her.

"Thank you for not saying anything," she said, genuinely grateful. That seemed to soften him considerably as the façade of "devil may care" slipped from his expression and he smiled, his eyes full of sincerity.

"Don't mention it, babe. Despite our differences, your father is one of the best men I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. I'd never put him in danger like that."

Lailah smiled gently up at him as and the two found themselves looking into the other's eyes for an extended moment, a pleasurable silence lingering between them as the memories and the familiarity started flooding back. There had always been a tangible chemistry between Lailah and Azazeal, despite their very different moral compasses, but it is often said that opposites attract and in the case of the angel of the night and one of the most notorious fallen angels ever to exist, their case followed the rule to the letter.

"How have you been, Lailah?" he asked her, taking one last puff from his cigarette before dropping the butt to the ground and snuffing it out with the bottom of his boot. She smirked and the curvature of her lips along with the glint of mischievousness in her eyes made him warm all the way down to his toes.

"Are we really going to do the small talk thing?" she asked and he laughed. "I guess I'm fine," she answered. "Been a little busy lately to be anything else."

"I heard about you saving Dracula's daughter the night she was born," he mentioned. "That he was going to have her killed because of some stupid prophecy his crazy witch made and you managed to get the girl out in time."

"Oh?"

"It's all talk about you downstairs," he explained. "Dracula isn't the most popular person right now – too power hungry. There's a lot of individuals rooting for a regime change."

"That's surprising," Lailah confessed and she made her way over to one of the alley walls, leaning her back against it, her arms folded over her chest.

"Well, you have quite the reputation," he replied. "Hell has lost a good many people to heaven because of you and your special talents."

"I almost had you, once," she reminded him and he smiled.

"Yes – but I like being bad too much to change," he teased and Lailah had to suppress the urge to chuckle. "Besides, I remember you liking that bad-boy part of me. And what woman doesn't? It's exciting." That earned a laugh from her and it made his smile a bit broader. "But in all seriousness, Lailah – what are you doing? Why are you even bothering risking your neck to look after Dracula's kid, along with the girl's mother and that wolf lover of hers?" he asked, suddenly serious. "I mean, I get the kid – but why the two adults? From what I hear, if you hadn't bothered with the two of them, you could have gotten the kid out of here before the witch sealed everyone inside."

"Eva needs a mother and a father in her life," Lailah explained. "All children need that – they deserve that, though so many don't get both these days. And I am no mother."

Azazeal leaned against the wall beside her, looking down at her, his eyes studying her face carefully.

"I'm never one to contradict you, but you were always really good with kids – and not just because of your calling, either," he countered. "I always thought you'd make an exceptional mother."

"Now you're just trying to flatter me," she said knowingly.

"No, I'm being perfectly genuine," he insisted. "Not all women have it in them to do what you do. You always get down to their level – you never looked down on them. You're also one of the most patient and forbearing of women I've ever come across, and I do remember you giving the best hugs." He noticed the faint flush in her cheeks and he took it as an invitation to continue, moving just a little closer to her as he lowered his voice. "You can also be very playful when you want to be," he added. "Although, I don't think the games you and I used to play were exactly appropriate for children."

Lailah knew what he was doing – and even though she knew, she couldn't bring herself to stop him. The angel kind of hated herself for it, but she had missed his – Azazeal and his flirting, his flattery, the double-entendres. She knew that when it came to him, it would never go back to what it was, but sometimes she found herself waxing nostalgic, and right now was one of those instances… and he knew it.

"You always did love my games," she teased and he saw that familiar playful glint in her eyes and it awakened old urges in him that took a great deal to suppress.

"I just liked winning them," he replied and she chuckled softly.

"I thought you liked it when I won?"

"I liked that, too."

His head was resting against the cool brick of the wall, his face barely a foot away from hers as he looked into her eyes with that familiar longing, before breaking the moment with a sudden, "I better go."

"Yes, that would be wise," she replied, snapping herself out of the little stupor she had been in, becoming more aware of her surroundings.

"It was nice to see you again, Lailah," he replied. "I'm sure I'll be running into you again at some point."

"I don't doubt that."

"And hey, if you need anything, you still know how to get a hold of me, right?"

"Yes."

"Good."

And with that, he vanished back into the shadows, just as David appeared around the corner, catching a glimpse of the back of Azazeal's head. When he reached Lailah, she turned around, finally noticing him there. He was looking past her, a confused look on his face.

"Who's the dude in the trench coat?" David asked curiously.

"No idea," Lailah lied with an ease that surprised her. "Was looking for somebody. Did you kill the other vampire?" she asked, slyly changing the subject. It seemed to work, because David was all smug smiles and glee as he revealed a bit of cloth that was drenched in blood and concealing something small.

"I come bearing gifts," David said with a smirk and he pulled one side of the cloth back, revealing what appeared to be – or at least, what had been – a penis. Lailah looked at him with genuine surprise. "Not exactly as small as a baby carrot, but still, it's kind of sad. How could you tell?" he asked, referring to the vampire that had threatened to accost her earlier.

"When you've been around as long as I have, you can tell when a man is overcompensating," she replied, pushing David's offering away.

"What, you don't want it?" he teased. "Fine, I see how it is," and he tossed it over his shoulder, earning an amused laugh from Lailah.

"It's not that I don't appreciate it, David," she replied, "I just prefer them attached."

"And probably a little bigger," he added with a wink.

"Don't be vulgar."

"My apologies, Mother Superior," he said with a laugh, offering her his arm in an exaggerated fashion. "Shall we head home?"

Lailah found herself in the chapel of the Istovar cathedral a few evenings later. As was usual, the church itself was fairly empty, although there were two or three individuals dispersed in the pews, each in silent prayer as they listened to the sound of Francisco Guerrero's Ave Virgo Sanctissima echoing off of the high, vaulted ceilings. She was seated in her usual seat in one of the benches in the corner, enjoying the solitude and the beautiful music when she felt a familiar presence enter the room and the corner of her lips tugged into a smile.

"I was wondering if you'd show up," she said before turning to look to her side where she saw Raphael standing in the aisle, smiling. Lailah slid over so he could take a seat beside her.

"You know, I miss seeing you every day," he confessed a little unexpectedly upon sitting, lifting his arm so he could rest it on the back of the pew – and consequently around her shoulders.

"I miss it too," she replied.

"You holding up okay?"

"Being Dracula-free appears to be good for my health," she said with a smirk.

"That's no surprise. You definitely look better."

"I've been sleeping a bit better," she began, but then she yawned, which made him laugh more.

"Clearly!"

"No, it's just been a long evening. I swear, I'm fine," she insisted.

"Just as long as it's not me."

"It's not you. I promise."

"Alright then."

They sat there for a spell in comfortable silence, listening to the music, each looking about the church with mild interest, noticing how the walls and ceiling of the church continued to be overrun by nature as the branches of a tree which had sprouted up in the far side of the church reached out toward the moonlight streaming in through one of the shattered stain-glassed windows, while vines and shrubbery overtook the ancient columns that lined the aisles.

It added an almost mystical atmosphere to the building that Lailah found oddly comforting. She felt Raphael's hand that had been lying idly beside her arm moving up to her shoulder before his fingers slowly spread across the lower part of her neck and a sigh crept out of her mouth when those fingers began to idly rub the sides of her collar.

"You know, you really shouldn't keep spoiling me like this every time you visit," she said, the feeling of his fingers massaging the knots in her neck making her eyes flutter in pleasure. He merely smiled.

"I enjoy spoiling you. Besides, this is hardly spoiling. It's a neck rub."

"It feels like spoiling," she replied, her voice sounding a little more sensual than she meant, but if he noticed, he kept it to himself.

"Any word from Dracula, yet?" he asked. She sighed beneath his fingers and it made him smirk.

"Not a syllable," she confessed.

"It's been a few weeks. Isn't that starting to worry you?"

"To be honest? It's worrying me a lot more than I care to admit," Lailah said, and when she sat up a little straighter in her seat, Raphael stopped his ministrations and looked into her eyes, waiting for her to continue. "The last time I saw him, he told me that when it came time for us to meet again, that a part of me would want to see him."

"And do you? Do you want to see him again?" he asked carefully.

The feeling of pleasurable relief Lailah had been enjoying just moments ago seemed to dissolve away the more she pondered Raphael's honest question.

"I hate being around him," she said at last. "He's conceited and amoral. And yet…" Her voice trailed off and he watched as she stared blankly into the distance. "I've let him get under my skin, Raphael. It's like he's gnawing at the inside of my brain and I can't get him out. I know everything about him is wrong and I know exactly what he's doing, but it's like I can't stop it from happening. Part of me almost doesn't want to stop it. It's like," and she paused, searching for the right words. "I know what he is and who he is, his reputation, his history – he's done some horrible things in his time and there's no excusing that. But despite all of this, he still manages to make me feel… I don't know. Like I'm special or something. Like me – this angel who has never been of much consequence to anyone, who has never done anything grand in all her life – he makes me feel like I'm worth all the effort he's putting into this. And I can't deny that I like that feeling, Raphael – as much as I know I shouldn't."

To Lailah's chagrin, Raphael didn't reply. He kept his arm around the back of the pew, but he wasn't touching her anymore and she could tell from his silence that her confession troubled him. She hated disappointing him, but she hated lying to him even more.

Oh, if only he understood the history between herself and the Count – perhaps then he would be more understanding, empathetic even. But he didn't know, and as much as she wanted to tell him the truth – the whole truth – she could not. There was too much at risk.

"Please don't hate me for what I've said," Lailah finally said. "I don't like this anymore than you."

"I know," he said with a heavy sigh, finally looking over at her with a noted gentleness in his eyes. "And I could never hate you."

There was silence between them again, only this time, it was a little uncomfortable and it made Lailah shift in her seat, especially when a question that had been pressing on her mind for some time now found itself on the tip of her tongue.

"Raphael – how much do you know about Gabriel's fall?" she asked him.

"More than I care to," he confessed.

"Is what Dracula said about his history with Gabriel true? Those things I told you about a couple of visits back. Do you remember?"

"Yes," he answered, looking ahead, though he seemed to be looking past the altar at the end of the room.

"Do you think those inconsistencies I mentioned bear any truth?"

Raphael turned his head to look at her, looking a little put off by her query.

"Does it matter?" he asked, as gently as he could, though she could tell her question had hit a nerve. "Forgive me, Lailah, but why are you even entertaining what Dracula says at this point? Especially considering the fact that you know what his motives are. I don't mean to sound harsh, and I apologize if I do, but it seems like you know he's trying to manipulate you and you're willfully letting him. You of all people should know that evil's strongest weapon is doubt, and if you're going to best Dracula and not be bested by him, you need to stop paying attention to whatever that vampire says."

He could see his words had affected her, and though she bore his chastisement well, he still felt guilty for inflicting any kind of pain on her, especially when she had lost so much of her light already, continually enduring the crushing weight of everyone's hopes and expectations without ever complaining. This seemed to temper the urgency and worry on his face as his arm which was still resting on the back of the bench wrapped around her shoulders again, pulling her closer to him.

"Lailah, you are great and glorious and terrible. You are the fiercest soldier I ever went into battle with, the most attentive pupil, and the dearest friend. When you say you can handle something, I can do nothing but trust that you can, not because I feel obligated to, but because I know you. When you set your mind to something, not even Hell can talk you out of it. But I also know from first-hand experience that darkness, at its core, is cold and hollow. The allure comes from the traces of light that remain – and the terrifying reality of it is, those that are slave to darkness understand that. And the most terrible of them all use that truth to their advantage. Don't let him take advantage of you, Lailah."

Lailah, crushed by the weight of what he had said, could feel her head hanging in shame as she began to internally berate herself for the dark and secret desires that had been taking root in her heart.

"I'm sorry I'm so weak," she whispered. "I don't mean to be, but I'm so tired… I'm just so tired," and he could see the tears welling in her eyes and it broke his heart. He pulled her into his arms instinctively and held her close. He didn't want to cause her pain, but he also knew that if he didn't tell her the truth, it would be the same as abandoning her, and he couldn't bring himself to do that.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he insisted, kissing her hair, relieved when he felt her relax against him. "I'm sorry for being so hard on you. I know it's difficult because you can see in him what the rest of us are unable to."

"If this is you being hard on me, then I wish Michael would take a page or two out of your book," she said with a laugh as she rested her head on his shoulder, one of his arms still around her. He laughed quietly.

"Yes, he can be rather blunt, can't he?"

"He means well," Lailah replied. "I know you do as well. But that doesn't make hearing the truth any easier."

"I know," he said, taking one of her hands in his as he continued to hold her. "But as your old mentor," he added with a hint of teasing in his voice before growing serious again, "I just don't want you to be willfully blind to the dangers in front of you because you're so busy trying to pull the good out of him. I just…" Raphael paused and gently grasped her chin in his hand, lifting her eyes to meet his. "You know that I trust you, right?"

"Of course I do," she replied. "Your trust and faith in me is one of the few things I can always rely on."

"Then you'll understand me when I say that I just don't want to see you get hurt again. Because if you let him, Dracula will hurt you, Lailah, if you give him the chance. And I don't mean betray you or anything, like Azazeal, but he will try to pull you down with him and he is not the kind of man that doesn't play for keeps."

He paused for an extended moment, leaning his forehead against hers, eyes closed, relishing in the feeling of her hands resting on his chest, her sweet breath lightly fanning his face. He soaked it in, committing this very instant to memory, before opening his eyes again to see an almost light-headed delirium in her eyes.

He wanted to kiss her, God help him.

If he was being honest with himself, he had been wanting to kiss her for centuries now, but never was the need as potent as it was in that moment. She was so close to him, her lips inches from his and he stared at her mouth, wondering what it would be like to feel those lips against his, to taste her.

But as it always did, duty and honor brought him back to reason as he bridled his passions and reined himself back in. No – he could not do that to her. He had no reason to expect anything from her, and kissing her would have been, in his mind, selfish and unfair. It was true, Raphael had longed for Lailah, pined for her even, for an age, but there were expectations that came with angels courting each other – especially when it was between an archangel and a lesser angel. There were expectations and rules and he could not put all of that on her shoulders now – not when she already had so much she was carrying.

So instead of kissing her lips as he longed to, he said, "I don't think I could bear it if I ever– if heaven ever lost you."

Lailah smiled up at him and did not hesitate to sink into him when he pulled her into his arms again. She could feel his light radiating from his skin and she soaked it in, allowing his strength and his love to rejuvenate her worn and heaven-parched soul. As he continued to hold her, the two listening to the music in peaceful silence now, Lailah almost told him about her run in with Azazeal – but not wishing to spoil this moment of intimacy between them, she kept it to herself, instead allowing herself to feel safe and contented in his embrace.

It was strange – when he held her, it was so easy to dismiss any thoughts of Count Vladislaus Dracula. But a short time later when he left to return to heaven, she was once more alone, finding it impossible to suppress those persistent thoughts and feelings of the Count that preyed on her mind.

I'll keep my author's notes short, since I know there are many of you that have been itching for an Ink on a Page teaser, but I wanted to give you some updates - firstly, Ink on a Page is still with the beta. I've given her until the end of February to get it done (since it's almost 600 pages long). When she's finished, I'll review her suggestions and then go through 2-3 rounds of additional edits of my own (God help me). Hopefully by the time I finish, we'll be just about done with this story so we can smoothly transition. That's the plan! Hopefully it sticks. I'll let you know if it doesn't.

For now, the majority of my focus is on Eternal Night planning. I've successfully outlined and summarized the chapters for book 1 and 2 and am about half-way through my book 3 chapter outlines/summaries (which is a challenge because I still don't know how to end that story AND I need to make sure I don't leave any holes in there either). Everything surrounding Eternal Night is still very secret, but I will say that I am VERY pleased with the direction it's taken so far, I can't wait to start actually writing and fleshing it out, and I hope and pray I can do this tale justice, as it's been a LONG time coming.

Now then, I'll go toddle off so you can read your teaser.

Thank you a hundred times over for your continued support and encouragement. I am truly grateful that so many of you take time out of your lives to read (and review) this story of mine. I hope that as the tale progresses, you will continue to enjoy it.

Disclaimer: this teaser is still in the process of being edited, so forgive any errors you may come across.

"The East wing is mostly deserted rooms, many of which, if you value your life, should be avoided," the Count began, motioning to his right. "The West wing is permitted, but not recommended. That is where my brides and I tend to retire during the day," and he motioned to his left, still climbing the stairs. When he reached the top, Hera noticed that the stairs broke off into three directions, the final portion standing in front of them.

"The North wing is the only wing considered remotely livable for mortals, and that is where you will be spending the majority of your time for the next seven months."

"Yay," was Hera's unenthusiastic reply, intentionally baiting Dracula's temper, but he controlled himself remarkably well.

After climbing the last couple of stairs, he led her down a dimly lit hallway.

"This portion of the castle has been suitably heated and is free, in its entirety, for your exploration and use. Some rooms of note are the library which is down that hall," and he motioned in the direction of the hall they just passed, "a small kitchen, down in the opposite direction, and the rest…" He paused, a bemused grin curving his lips. "I'll leave you to figure it out on your own. You're certainly capable enough."

Hera made an indecent gesture behind his back before making a face.

"So the four of you sleep in the West wing then?" she clarified.

Dracula glanced behind briefly, sending her a strange look.

"Why the curiosity?"

"I want to know so I can avoid that area completely," she retorted, loving how his smile faded and his lips pursed into an irritated line.

"My brides have several rooms they occupy throughout the fortress. The sarcophagus chambers are in the west wing, as you so astutely mentioned. That is where we usually take to rest during the day. They have a lounge where they tend to congregate during the evening…"

"Let me guess? It's called the harem chamber?" she asked snarkily.

Dracula sent her a look and she snapped her mouth shut.

"Their lounge is here in the north tower," he continued. "Their bedrooms, which are rarely used, are in the north tower as well."

"Rarely used?" Hera repeated with a single arched brow, soon walking beside the Count instead of in his shadow. He glanced over at her. "What? Do you ring a bell or something whenever you need a fix and throw them over a desk or something?"

Dracula stopped walking. Oh, the temptation to throw a snide remark, to get upset. But despite her best efforts to make him angry, defeating Velkan had put him in an excellent mood and he refused to give her the satisfaction of getting irritated, so he instead grinned wickedly at her, his face inching closer to her own.

Two could play at this game.

"No. Sex, I'm sure you'll agree, is much more comfortable in a bed, rather than on the floor or against a wall," he husked darkly. He then looked up at the ceiling, motioning up to the upper floors. "My bedchambers are on the top floor of this tower," he added suggestively. "Should you ever get lonely."

Hera's eyes narrowed.

"Why would I need you when I am perfectly capable of taking my pleasure into my own hands?" was her devious reply and she wiggled her fingers in front of his temporarily shocked face with a mocking smile.

Oh, if only Hailey were here to see her being so openly wicked! She'd be so proud.

Before the Count could offer a reply, she moved around him so she could keep walking, laughter in her voice.

"Count, you are, without a doubt, the most sordid, deplorable man I have ever met!" she retorted as she began to stalk away, but he grabbed her arm and yanked her back.

"Miss Garret, you may claim loathe me now, but I can guarantee I will grow on you before the next seven months are out… you never know what could happen," he replied suggestively, taking her hand in his and forcing her clenched fist open as he examined her fingers.

"Was that on me or in me?" she glowered.

"Don't be vulgar, pet," he crooned, leading one of her fingers to his mouth. She suddenly swung her free hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist before her palm could reach his cheek. "If you want to play that game, I should warn you that it's usually me doing the beating."

"You are repulsive," she informed him.

But the Count merely smiled and patted her cheek almost patronizingly after releasing her from his grip.

"I know. Now then, would you like to know where your room is, or do you prefer to sleep in the hall?"

"You mean you aren't going to force me to stay in the dungeons?" she bit. He laughed at her question as he bade her to follow him with his hand.

"No, Miss Garret, I'm not going to force you to do anything during your stay here. Treat my home as if it were your own. All I ask…" and he opened one door in particular and motioned for her to enter, "…is that you behave with civility and that we continue our evening sessions, Thursdays as usual."