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alighted next to Malachi as they loomed over the dazed male.
    “Name.” A demand from Malachi.
    “Fuck you,” the male muttered and earned a cuff on the head from Laziel.
    “Answer him, or those wings you're so proud of will disappear,” Laziel growled.
    “No need for that yet, angel. Hold him still.” While the angel locked a hold on the Nephilim, Malachi burrowed into his mind. With little effort, he garnered the name and a bit more.
    “Celix. Only son of Raquhel, Fallen some two hundred fifty years ago. A nasty fucker; makes one wonder how he graced the hallowed halls of Heaven for so long.”
    “Get out of my head, you filthy cur.” Celix lunged forward, hatred coloring his nearly perfect features. Blond hair, blue eyes, the face of the proverbial angel, yet a soul more fetid than most demons. His attempt at escape was laughable.
    “No worries on that, Celix. I do not wish to be tainted by your filth. I have my own special brand of savagery. Too bad Raquhel will have no one to carry on his bloodline.” The Nephilim struggled in earnest. “End him, Laziel. I have needs that require your more lascivious attentions.”
    The angel's Katana rose but never met its mark. Five new arrivals had Malachi and Laziel spinning to face the newest threat. Blades, fists and feathers flew. Enraged and on the peak of a sexual high, Malachi made short work of his enemies. When he spun back to the wall, a hiss of displeasure erupted. Celix was gone.
    With a ferocious growl and a flick of thought he flung himself the last distance to his suite. He knew, without a doubt, an angered Laziel would follow. Once inside, he picked up the phone and hit zero. “We’re here. Yes, the rest of the night.” He hung up and reached for the bottle of Glenfiddich. With the snifter filled, he forced himself to recline in the deep leather chair, swirling the liquid and inhaling the rich bouquet. As he took his first sip, Laziel appeared in the doorway of the bedroom naked flesh glowing in the candlelight. Malachi’s greedy eyes tracked over the leather harness crossing the angel’s chest, the leather collar and the black silk G-string.
    “On the table.” Lachi ordered his voice rough with need. Laziel obeyed, and padded barefoot toward his destination with an exaggerated roll of his hips. The angel settled on his stomach, as Malachi watched through heavy, hooded eyes. His mouth dried with the force of his need. He tilted up the glass in his hand and frowned to find it empty. Glenfiddich was to be savored, not swallowed like water. But, with such a sexy distraction, he couldn’t help himself. With his gaze again on the angel, Malachi surged to his feet and calmly sat the snifter on the bar.
    He crossed to stand at the foot of the onyx slab and let his gaze roam over the bounty spread on his table. Laziel was beautiful. Perfectly proportioned, heavily muscled and smooth to the touch, the angel fit against Malachi as if they were made for each other. With his cock threatening to burst through his zipper, Malachi prowled around the table stopping at each wrist and ankle to fasten the bindings. Once again at Laziel’s side, he brought a hand up to hover over the angel’s bare ass. He could hear the angel’s heart, jackhammering in his chest, yet he lay still as stone.
    “You know the rules, Laziel. Are you ready?” The calm question belied the savagery that seethed through his veins. Laziel nodded once.
    The variety of instruments and toys on the table gleamed in the candlelight. The silver sheen of handcuffs vied for attention next to the steel cock rings and nipple clamps. Supple black leather wound around bottles of lube and ball gags. Masks of every variety hung from hooks on the side. Malachi ignored those. He much preferred seeing Laziel’s face, to feel the weight of his yearning gaze. And that mouth, to cover it would be a sacrilege. Malachi made his choice and returned his attention to his spread eagled angel.
    The flat square head