Enrapture | The Angels Series Book 2 | Slow Updates

Chapter Seventeen

"How?"

Athena pressed her palms into his strong back, holding him tighter. Excitement coursed through her veins as she unhatched a plan.

"Charon," she said, locking her gaze with Michael's.

He responded to her touch – his powerful body wrapping around hers immediately. His large hand still cupped her cheek and his thumb ran along the curve of her bottom lip repeatedly – the motions gentle and slow.

"What is Charon?" he asked, his arms curling tighter around her waist until there was virtually no air between them.

"The Ferryman," she answered enthusiastically, unable to hide the growing excitement she felt. She had nearly forgotten about him.

So many centuries had passed and so many of the immortals had been destroyed that she hardly thought of the ones that dwelled in the underworld.

Michael furrowed his brows and canted his head to the side. Gods have mercy, he was sexy when he did that. He was gorgeous all the time, but since taking that big step with him last night, she found herself desiring him in every moment.

"I don't understand. Which ferryman do you refer to?"

Unable to resist, Athena curled her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a sweet kiss. His eyes closed at the contact and electricity arced down her spine when he took control of it – kissing her with all the bottled-up passion he had to offer.

His scent surrounded her – clouding her mind with lustful thoughts. She was losing her focus fast. Pulling away reluctantly, she dragged her hands up and down the back of his neck – tangling her fingers in his long, blonde hair.

"Charon is an immortal being that was assigned to work as the Ferryman. For a price, he brings souls across the rivers Acheron and Styx, delivering them to Tartarus or the Elysian fields, depending on how they're sorted."

Michael quirked a single brow and shook his head. "You're talking about ancient beliefs followed by the Greeks. That story is fiction – a myth just like the rest."

Were it not for his devastatingly good looks, she might have taken offense to that statement.

"Have you learned nothing during our time together, Saint Michael?" Her tone was teasing, showing him that she wasn't really upset with him. "By your logic, I should not exist right now."

He flicked his gaze between hers and sighed. "Alright," he said, brushing her cheek gently, "tell me more about this Ferryman."

She smiled, thrilled that he was opening up his mind and accepting new information. She knew it must be hard for him – having been the general of Heaven's angels for so long and being taught only to follow their rules and believe what they say. Everything else that ever existed in the world was portrayed as false for as long as he served them.

His memories were stolen from him, leaving him vulnerable and giving him no reason to doubt a word his superiors said. It wasn't his fault. She wanted to help him come to terms with the truth about their two worlds, but more importantly, she wanted to help him learn the truth about himself.

Since the night she met him, she had been trying to ease his pain. Removing the block Heaven had placed to keep his past memories away from him had been a huge risk, and she had secretly been trying to ease his pain by keeping the painful images at bay.

She knew it wouldn't last long and that eventually, the truth would be set free. She couldn't protect him forever, but she would do her best until their mission was over. For now, she would give him any information she could, as long as it wouldn't disrupt their mission and cause his past memories to come flooding to the surface.