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Rosa was well-versed in angelology and knew that as a trueblood, pure born, prince of [Hel], Rafel had wings of a dark angel: fluffy feathers that could range from gray to indigo, and to scarlet and to jade, but not gold or white—those colors were solely reserved for the angels born of light.

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He would not have the skeletal, bat wings common to the demon populace.

Israfel, was from birth, unique.

How many kids were drawn from the pits of brimming flames? Umbilicus severed with the ebony talon of a wailing widow? How many? Even [Hellion] kids?

Rafel kicked the door into the attic at the top of the steps. Rosa paused a brief while as he released her hand to stare down the withering marble banisters at the spiral, winding stairwell dropping a plunge into the void below.

She distinctly made out the bright pulsing of a doorway portal and the shapes of Aya and Percival tossing their epic weapons find in the spool of darkness like masons on a bender.

"Hey, you coming?"

She turned to find Rafel holding out his hand. He almost dwarfed the little attic door.

Rosa smiled. "Yeah, sure."

They stepped in under the aged lintel and Rafel had to wave a quick hand spell of crimson light to disperse the cobwebs and frighten off the huge arachnids staring out the shadows with slitted red eyes. "Oh, piss off, buggers!"

Rosa giggled at this and edged to a corner, forcing the only stuck window to creak open. A little bird nest shivered in the wind as daylight poured into the musky room. The attic wasn\'t styled for comfort, and Rafel\'s head just about scraped the low ceiling. Golden dust glinted off every surface visible and Rosa looked around.

She blew cool air at the stuffy room. "Seems like whoever or whatever owned this place left in a hurry. Look at all this shit."

She held up a witch\'s longbroom to Rafel. He too turned at the same time with more curious finds: a [Djinni] harp and rolls of winter camel fur in his grasp. They both stared at each other\'s find a moment, before they burst out laughing. "You think we\'ll get lucky and stumble upon a Grimoire of the Dead?" Rosa still chuckled.

Rafel sighed. "If we do, I call dibs on keeping it."

Rosa laughed more. She and Rafel spent some few minutes piling the interesting stuffs in a corner, into a laden quilt that frankly was older than their joint ages.

Rafel stopped to wipe off a bead of sweat from his brow. The open window had aerated the attic well enough. He caught Rosa staring.

"What?" Rafel grinned.

Rosa blushed. "Uh, n-nothin\'. Just, you are really fucking hot."

Rosamunde immediately turned when his amber eyes settled on her; the glow was too wicked. She fumbled with the gilded cords of a hanging drape, suddenly feeling hot all over. Rafel\'s beautiful, tall silhouette moved behind her, and a second later, she felt his giant warmth envelope her from behind. He smelled of whispering pines and treasured savannahs.

The urge to lean into his warm body was so strong.

Responding to her earlier comment, Rafel said, "so are you."

And then softly, he kissed the open skin of her neck.

"Ohh," Rosa whimpered. "Israfel, don\'t. You\'ll make me weak."

"You make me weak," he whispered back.

Another kiss on her nape; the dark strands of her hair blown in his hot breath.

Rosa had too much of his smell fucking with her head, but even if she wanted to move away, he had blocked her from behind with his bad, bad body, and in front was the scratched strone wall of the attic. She was caged in.

Rafel\'s arms circled her waist. His palm massaged into her belly. Gently, he pulled her back into him, to feel his potent rise. She felt his manhood nudge in the small of her back, and Rosa tried to stifle her moan. Rafel\'s voice grated in her ear; he sucked in the supple flesh of her neck. "I\'ve had it with you teasing me with little fucking sexy bod."

Rosa shivered. "The others—"

"Shut up." Rafel fisted her glossy bob and pulled her head back to claim her lips in a dizzying kiss. He sucked her tongue in deeply. He forced her mouth open with his as he ravaged, bending her to his will.

The moan Rosa had been suppressing left her in a burst of heat.

Rafel pulled back, sucking in her soft bottom lip with a solar flare in his eyes. The gold in them was glowing. Keeping his fist in her dark hair, she traced with his teeth to the skin of her bare neck. He allowed his fangs sprout but didn\'t break flesh. Rosa was shaking as she clung to him. His pointy tips grazed her jugular and she whimpered.

"Are you ready for me, dearest?"

Rosa could only nod to his coal voice.

Rafel pushed her into the wall. She flattened her face against her palms, cheeks to the cold stone.

"Stay there." He growled.

His fist came off her tumbling hair—Rosamunde had always been too exquisite a lady for her own good; of all his women, she was the most official in her dispositions, and so Rafel lived for the moments when passion set her free and he got to break her genius mind to the ripples of a good loving—but only to tear down his pants.

His belt buckle hit the floors hard.

Rafel put his hands around to Rosa\'s front, unfastening her own fly as she wiggled into him while he placed kisses in her hair. Her zipper down, he moved to drag down her tight denim, taking her alluring red panties with it. Rafel growled; cause of her big ass, she had to do a lot of shimmying to help him.

He spanked her for good measure when the pants and thong were lowered to her knees.

There was no time—nor desire on the side of both parties to fully undress.

Rafel went down behind her. Rosa bit on her lip, as his giant hands pushed her more into the wall, flattening her upper body against it. She could smell the cool mist on the stone.

"Oh yes, you are ready for me," his hard voice came from under.

Rafel grasped her round butt, fondling the ample globes: caramel fleshy delights of prodigious proportions. Rosa had a generous sexuality. A damn fine islander. A voluptuous chick. A true yellowbone. Her exotic descent made her more fetching.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]