Her Angel: Eternal Warriors Complete Series Box Set

by Heaton, Felicity

  She didn’t want to feel scared, not of those things that had tried to hurt her or of Marcus.

  He had protected her, had fought for her, but she couldn’t look at him without feeling a lingering trace of fear.

  She would overcome it. Marcus had done nothing to deserve her fear. He had done everything to deserve her trust. She was stronger than this. She was.

  Her legs betrayed her and her knees gave out. She didn’t hit the floor. Marcus’s arm was around her in an instant, strong and steady against her back, supporting her and holding her pressed against his body. She felt the wet slide of blood on her leg where his touched it, and felt the granite hardness of his armour against her chest, and the warmth of his skin on her side where his arm curled protectively around her.

  Amelia stared up into his silver-blue eyes, amazed and transfixed as the darker flecks of blue in them moved and his irises brightened again.

  “Amelia?” he said thickly and she melted into him, her strength leaving her, and couldn’t stop the tears from escaping. A pained look crossed his face as his gaze tracked them over her cheeks and then it softened as he gently wiped them away. “Are you alright?”

  She nodded mutely even though she wasn’t sure if she was alright. She was alive, and so was he, and right now that was all that mattered to her. He wasn’t something to fear. He had saved her and she was safe with him.

  “We have to leave… I know this is a lot for you to take in, but we are not safe here.” His words brought with them a flash of the man they had left in the alley.

  Wasn’t he dead?

  She didn’t want Marcus to fight another one of those things.

  Amelia nodded again. He was right. They had to leave. But how?

  She looked at the roof exit. The man would come that way, wouldn’t he? The others hadn’t. They had been here waiting for her and Marcus. How?

  Marcus shocked her back to reality when he bent, slid his other arm under the crook of her knees, and lifted her. Her arms instantly looped around his neck, fear of falling chasing away the madness of everything that had happened for a sweet brief moment before it came crashing back again. She stared at Marcus, trying to force herself to see him as he was. A man wearing armour, bloodied from his battle against two monsters. A warrior who had protected her.

  “Trust me, Amelia,” he whispered so close to her face that his warm breath fanned her neck and she looked at him, deep into his eyes, seeing only hope in them.

  “I do,” she said in a low voice and then wasn’t sure it had been the right thing to say when he ran towards the edge of the roof and leapt off.

  Amelia’s eyes slowly widened as they hurtled towards the roof of the next building over fifty feet below them and she dug her fingers into Marcus’s hair, holding on for dear life. She opened her mouth to let out a scream and curled up, bracing for impact. Was this how her short life was going to end?

  She turned to face Marcus and his gaze met hers, expression awkward and bordering on irritated. Not the sort of face she had expected from a man about to die.

  They hit the roof.

  Rather than the collision she had braced for, it felt more like Marcus had jumped barely a few feet. He landed in a crouch with her tucked as close to his chest as his blue armour allowed, and then stood. Her heart slowly came unstuck from the back of her throat and dropped into her chest, and she stared back up at the roof of the building he had leapt from, unable to believe they had fallen so far without injury.

  Something in Marcus’s eyes said that he hadn’t expected that to happen either. He looked over his shoulder at the back of his armour, frowned, and turned to her. There was worry in his eyes that hadn’t been there during the battle on the roof or their escape from the alley.

  “Is something wrong?” she said and his silence and the confusion mixing with the fear in his eyes told her there was.

  Amelia looked at his shoulders, remembering the two long slits in the back of his armour.

  He hadn’t expected to fall.

  Just what had he expected to happen?

  CHAPTER 7

  Amelia walked through the dark London streets in a dream, distant from the world around her, her focus split. One half was turned inwards as she struggled to comprehend everything that had happened and make sense of it. The other half was fixed on Marcus where he walked close beside her, his hand firmly gripping hers, steady and strong. She followed him without question, relying on him to help her understand the things she had seen and what was happening to her.

  She hadn’t lied when she had said that she trusted him. He had fought for her and she hoped that meant he was on her side. She held on to that belief, using it to keep her niggling fear of Marcus at bay. He wouldn’t hurt her. He had promised to protect her and he had done just that, and she was safe with him.

  People passed them in the busy street, coming and going between the late night stores and places unknown to her. None of them even glanced at Marcus, which led her to wonder if they could see what she could.

  Did they see a beautiful man wearing blue armour that was moulded like muscles, a warrior splattered with blood and grim in appearance?

  Or did they see whatever she saw whenever she happened to catch their reflection in a window?

  The normal Marcus.

  The one she had been foolishly falling for.

  In his reflection, he appeared to be wearing a pale shirt and dark jeans, dressed as though he was going out for the evening to somewhere casual, like a pub or a relaxed dinner in a restaurant.

  Was it some kind of magic? She had never believed in such things before, but she was finding it difficult to deny the possibility of anything anymore. Those creatures Marcus had killed had been like demons from fairytales, a bright white light had caused one to disappear, and Marcus had donned armour in the blink of an eye. Anything seemed possible at the moment, even if she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it was real.

  She slowly brought her gaze back to him.

  If it was magic and the people passing them by saw the Marcus she did when she looked in the windows, why wasn’t she seeing that when she looked at him?

  When she looked at him directly, the armour was there, barely covering his muscular body, and two deadly curved silver blades hung from his waist, shifting with him as he walked, his strides purposeful and intent.

  Amelia hadn’t asked where they were going.

  Since leaving the rooftop of the second building, Marcus had been silent and pensive, his grip on her hand unrelenting. She was glad of that. It was her anchor in the storm of her confusion and the whirlwind of emotions inside her. She clung to it, afraid to surrender it in case everything turned crazy again. As long as she was holding his hand, his long slender fingers locked tightly between hers, then she was safe.

  Marcus would protect her.

  His eyes briefly met hers and then he blinked and they were fixed ahead again, focused on the distance. The worry that had been in them after his leap from the roof with her was still there, and the question still burned on her tongue, desiring to be said.

  What had he expected to happen?

  There were so many other things that she wanted to ask him too. Was he a good man? Was he going to hurt her? His warning came back to her and she couldn’t ignore it. He had told her to stay away from him and that he wasn’t good for her. Was this why?

  What was he?

  “This way,” he whispered, so quiet that she barely heard him, and then turned with her down a beautiful tree-lined avenue. The pale streetlights shone down on the path, highlighting expensive cars and the narrow front gardens of the townhouses. They had walked a long way from their own neighbourhood and her feet had started to blister over an hour ago but she hadn’t said anything because she hadn’t wanted to draw Marcus’s attention or her own to her bloodstained shoes, but now she had to stop. She couldn’t take another step.

  Marcus stopped with her and she could feel his eyes on her as she lifted one foot and
rubbed her toes through the thin pale material of her shoes. He released her hand and she made a reach for his, not wanting to let go of him, but he evaded her and crouched before her, one knee against the pavement and the other raised, as though he was proposing. He carefully took hold of her ankle, removed her shoe, and rested her bare foot on his hard thigh. His warmth seeped into her and she stared at the long cut across his muscles just millimetres from her toes, feeling guilty inside that she was making a fuss over a few blisters and sore spots when he was injured.

  The gash on his thigh was deep, a thick valley that looked black in the streetlights. The blood around it had dried but there were damp spots that sparkled, marking places where the wound had reopened.

  Tearing her gaze away, she watched Marcus as he touched the toe of her shoe that he held and then looked down at her other one.

  “What happened?” He looked up at her, and for a moment she felt like Cinderella as he held her slipper out to her. “There is blood on your shoes.”

  “That thing… when you…” What did she say? She wanted to phrase it delicately in case she had just imagined it. Her eyes darted to his chest armour and she drew a deep breath. She wasn’t insane. “Chopped its head off… I… I think I was in shock.”

  “I didn’t mean for this—” He cut himself off and she nodded, seeing the rest of his words in his eyes and feeling them in her heart. He had wanted to protect her and not let anything happen to her, not even something as minor as a bloodied pair of shoes. She smiled to reassure him and took her foot down from his thigh, and then eased down to kneel before him and tentatively reached out. He stilled right down to his breathing when she touched his thigh near the wound. For some reason, touching him, laying her fingers on his bloodstained flesh, made it all seem real.

  Marcus was hurt, and it was all her fault.

  “We should get this seen to,” she said absently and then her vision blurred and she frowned. It cleared when she blinked, sending hot tears running down her cheeks. Her fingers trembled against him and her strength faded again, leaving her weak and afraid. Raising her head, she looked right into his eyes, silently asking him for something. She wasn’t sure what she needed. Reassurance. Comfort. His strength? “Marcus…”

  She was in his arms before another heartbeat had passed, her forehead pressed against his neck, her cheek resting on the cold hard edge of his armour. The buckles of the leather straps over his shoulders that held his breastplate and back plate together jabbed into her face but she didn’t care. She broke down, surrendering to the pressing wave of emotions inside her and the weight of everything that had happened. She had always been strong, capable, the dependable one who everyone looked to in times of sorrow, but here in his arms she couldn’t be that woman. With a soft caress and a promise to keep her safe murmured against her cheek, he stripped away her strength right down to her heart and left her quaking in his arms, afraid to come out in case the beasts had returned and she was in danger again.

  He held her close, his hands rubbing her back, easing away her sobs as she pieced herself back together and slowly found her strength and her resolve to face whatever madness had descended on her world.

  “Shh, Amelia. We will be somewhere safe soon enough. It is not far now.” His words were pure comfort to her soul, chasing away the darkness, and she wrapped her arms around him, nestled with her back against his inner thigh, and hooked her fingers into the slots on the back plate of his armour. His arms tightened around her, drawing her deliciously closer to him, and she breathed him in. He smelt of the tinny odour of blood and dirt but underneath it all she could still smell the aftershave he wore and it transported her back to their moment in his apartment, filling her with warmth and happiness until she was no longer afraid. “I will keep you safe. I promise.”

  He had said that so many times now and she believed him with all of her heart. Here in his arms was the only place she felt safe.

  Marcus helped her to her feet and she cleared her throat, sniffing back her tears. Her eyes widened when he slipped her shoe back on, his actions gentle and careful, and then rose to his feet. He smiled and she was glad that it was a real one this time, and then waved his hand a produced a handkerchief out of thin air.

  Magic.

  He held it out to her and she took it, using it to clear her tears away and dry her nose so she didn’t look like a complete mess. Her stomach flipped when it came away bloodied and she touched her nose, fearing it was bleeding.

  Marcus took the cloth from her and wiped her cheek and around her nose. “I am sorry. I will do a better job next time.”

  Next time? She had hoped this was a one time deal but Marcus made it sound as though it wasn’t over yet. Would the man from the alley come after her? Would Marcus protect her if he did?

  She touched her cheek.

  Marcus had brushed her face back on the rooftop too. Had some of the blood sprayed onto her during the battle? Her stomach twisted and her hands shook as she looked down at her chest, afraid that she would see streaks of blood marking her as they marked him. Nothing.

  “We should keep moving. Are you able to walk?”

  Amelia wriggled her feet. They did feel a little better for their rest but she wasn’t sure she would be able to walk far before they started to hurt again. She slipped her shoes off and held them in her left hand. The pavement carried the heat of the day and looked clean enough, and it was better than hobbling to their destination.

  She nodded.

  Marcus took hold of her hand again, slipping his fingers between hers, the straps of his forearm guard brushing her skin, and started walking with her past the elegant Georgian townhouses.

  He hadn’t been lying about the distance. They had barely walked a hundred metres before he stopped in front of one of the beautiful four storey stone buildings and looked up the height of it. He opened the black metal gate for her and led the way up the path to the stone steps and the porch.

  He knocked three times on the wide black door and then moved into line with her.

  No one answered.

  Amelia cast a glance around the street and told herself that the monsters weren’t coming when her nerves spiked. They were safe. Marcus knocked again. After a minute had passed and she had come close to knocking too, a shadow appeared on the etched glass beside the door. The black door opened to reveal a handsome tawny haired man on the other side. His broad build almost filled the doorway as he stepped forwards and looked both ways up the street before his rich brown eyes settled on Marcus.

  “I received your message.” He stepped back into the bright marble foyer of the house, his boots heavy on the chequered black and white floor. “Come in.”

  Marcus nodded and entered, bringing her with him, and stepped to one side to allow the man to close the door behind them. Amelia remained tucked behind Marcus, unsure of the newcomer. He looked stronger than Marcus and she wasn’t going to let the normalness of his appearance fool her into relaxing. Marcus had looked normal once too.

  The man’s faded black t-shirt hugged his bulky muscles, drawn tight across his thick arms, and his deep blue jeans were taut over his muscular thighs. If he was different, like Marcus, could Marcus protect her from this man if he needed to?

  “Is this the female?” The man peered around Marcus to catch a glimpse of her.

  Amelia backed behind Marcus, evading him. When had Marcus told him that they were coming? He hadn’t called anyone since the attack. Had he known this would happen and had warned this man in advance?

  She wanted to see his face so she could read it and know whether he had, but that meant moving out into the open. If she did that, the other man would stare at her, and she wasn’t in the mood to be stared at.

  “Timid creature, isn’t she?” the man said and defiance curled through her.

  Amelia stepped out of Marcus’s shadow and glared at the man. Marcus put his hand on her shoulder, steering her into his embrace and then sliding his arm around her waist. The feel of it
around her bolstered her courage.

  “She has been through a lot, Einar. Leave her be. I know I am asking much of you, and it had not been my intention to bring her here after the attack. I had no other choice.”

  “It happened again?” the man named Einar said with a quick glance over him.

  Marcus nodded.

  Amelia frowned. What had happened again? The attack or something else? She looked to Marcus for an explanation but he looked away from her, focusing on the other man.

  “Come upstairs and we can have Taylor have a look.” Einar’s deep voice echoed around the hall.

  Marcus followed him towards the elegant wooden staircase opposite the door in the foyer. Amelia trailed behind them, her focus on her bare feet and the treads as she followed them around the tight rectangular turns of the staircase. Taylor? Did the man have a male partner? There had been warmth in his eyes when he had said that name, deep affection that he hadn’t tried to hide. She stared at his back as she trudged up the stairs. Strands of his mousy hair had fallen out of the short ponytail at the nape of his neck, curling around his ears. Marcus’s black unruly hair grazed the nape of his neck too, not long enough to tie back into a ponytail, but she could imagine it longer and worn that way, and she liked it. It took her mind off the situation and the strange new environment around her.

  Her moment of peace shattered when they entered a large elegant drawing room on the second floor. The dark antique furniture and the oil paintings that adorned the deep red walls didn’t suit the man who had led them up to this room, but the masses of weaponry that occupied the sofas, chairs and even a large oak table certainly did. Everywhere she looked there were guns, swords, bows and knives.

  What sort of help did Marcus want from this man and the one he had called Taylor?

  Marcus moved to one side.

  Amelia stopped dead.

  Taylor wasn’t a man after all.

  A beautiful lithe woman dressed head to toe in tight fitting black clothes similar to Einar’s strode towards them, her knee-high heeled boots heavy on the polished wooden floor. Long glossy dark hair curled around her face, lending her skin a milky look and brightening her blue eyes.