by Larissa Ione
Inhaling the stench of rotten vegetation that permeated this section of Sheoul, he started away from the skeletons of some burned-out buildings and toward a mountain range as expansive as the Rockies. He moved swiftly, outrunning the sounds of pursuit and pausing once to blast a group of imps with a ball of lightning. The sphere struck the leader, and from there sent electrical strikes at each of the surrounding imps, frying them all in a handy eight-for-one.
Harvester slept in his arms, barely stirring when he stopped to listen for anyone following them. By the time they neared the plan B meeting site, Reaver was sure they’d lost the demons—temporarily. Reaver wasn’t naive enough to think they were off the hook. The demons chasing them were only the first wave, the security detail unlucky enough to be guarding the dungeon Harvester was kept in.
Once Satan got wind of this, if he hadn’t already, Reaver and Harvester were going to have legions of minions on their heels.
A trail carved into sheer canyon walls dropped them into a narrow valley, where he found Tavin near a dense copse of twenty-foot-high larva-nettle bushes that bit like snakes. Worse, the bastards implanted their larva into the victim, and anyone unlucky enough to play host to the spiny larva died a week later when branches started popping out of their bodies.
Wisely, Tavin had positioned himself several feet away.
“Dude.” Tav stepped out from behind a gnarled tree trunk, his crossbow up and ready to nail anything that moved. “I can’t believe you fucking did it. Man, when all hell broke loose from inside Satan’s realm, I figured you were a goner.”
“If you can’t get us out of here soon, I still might be.”
“I’ll get you out of here, but we still have a three-day journey to a spot where you can flash us out.”
Three days. They might not last three hours if they ran into Satan’s minions. “Where are Matt and Calder?”
Tav used his bow to gesture to a path that wound between trees and jagged stones. “Calder’s scouting the route ahead. We lost Matt in the Valley of Screams, but he knows this is where we’re supposed to meet.” Tav’s voice, normally level, was strained. “I hope the warg’s okay. He’s my drinking buddy. Plus, he’s supposed to introduce me to his sister. She’s a porn star. Fucking cool.”
Reaver hoped Matt was okay, too, but for different reasons. Reaver liked the guy, but more important, Matt had agreed to be Harvester’s blood source. Now they were stuck waiting for him. Without blood, her wings weren’t going to heal quickly enough to help them, and without wings, she was almost powerless.
He shifted Harvester in his arms. “She needs to heal. Can you zap her?”
“No can do,” Tav replied. “I drained myself. Didn’t you see all the dead croucher demons at the top of the canyon? The ones with popped eyes?” He jerked his thumb at his own chest. “My work. I’m awesome.”
Well, Reaver couldn’t explode eyeballs, but he had other tricks up his sleeve, and they needed to take shelter. He turned to the larva-nettle bushes and froze them with a mere word, turning them into ice-glazed salads.
Harvester squirmed in his arms. “What’s happening?” Her voice was so raspy he could hardly understand her.
“We’re at our rendezvous,” he said. “I’m going to put you down.”
“Bastard.” She clung tightly to him. “Don’t go.”
Only Harvester could push someone away while simultaneously keeping them close. She was the most contradictory person he’d ever met.
And the fact that she wanted him to stay near was an indication of how traumatized she was. He’d seen her in emotional and physical pain before, and her response had always been to retreat like a wounded animal.
“I’m not leaving.” He ran his hand over her hair in long, soothing strokes, but she didn’t release her iron grip on his shoulders. “I promise. I have to clear out a place to rest, but I’ll be only a few feet away, and Tavin will be here with you. Do you remember him? He tried to kill Arik that one time. Limos still gives Tav the evil eye for nearly gutting her husband.”
“It was nothing personal,” Tavin muttered. “I am an assassin.”
Harvester nodded, but Reaver still had to peel her off him. He placed her gently on the ground, where she wrapped her arms around her knees and huddled, her body shaking. She wasn’t cold, not in this sweltering heat. But he knew too well how trauma and fear manifested, and he hoped that once she’d eaten, rested, and cleaned up her strength and stamina would return.
But would she return? She could be a world-class wench when she wanted to be, but he much preferred that over the quiet, frightened Harvester. This new Harvester could have him softening toward her, and he’d learned that she was a master at exploiting soft spots.
Tav gave him an I-got-it-handled nod, and as quickly as Reaver could, he wrestled iced-over branches aside and burrowed his way into the center of the bush. At their cores, larva-nettles were hollow, creating a natural hideaway that few would bother trying to search. Once the thing thawed, it would ignore whatever had secreted itself inside it and would go back to defending itself against anyone who came close.
He removed a blanket from his backpack, spread it on the ground, and went back outside.
Tavin grabbed Reaver’s arm and lowered his voice. “We can’t stay here long. Matt can catch up.”
“I know.” Reaver looked over at Harvester, who was still curled up tight, her forehead resting on her knees as she rocked slowly back and forth. “But she can’t continue like this. We’ve traveled for hours and she hasn’t improved. She needs rest.” He eyed the Sem. “If worse comes to worse, are you okay with letting her feed from you?”
Tavin snorted. “I’m always okay with having a female’s mouth on me.”
Reaver bristled. “Feeding only.”
“Chill, buddy. She’s in bad shape, and I do have standards.”
Reaver wondered if Tav’s standards meant he didn’t do fallen angels, or if his standards were about not screwing badly injured people. Hopefully both.
“Glad we’re clear,” Reaver said, giving Tav an uneasy look. Ingesting incubus blood made a lot of species mad with lust, and the energy expended on sex would lessen the healing effects of the blood.
Plus, the idea of Harvester getting naked with the demon made Reaver uneasy. And the fact that he was uneasy made him even more uneasy. Why should he care whom she had sex with?
“Clear as a False Angel’s tears,” Tavin said. False Angel tears were toxic to many, so Reaver wasn’t sure how to take that. “But if you’re worried about it, why don’t you let her suck on you?”
Reaver’s cock jerked, clearly taking the suck thing the wrong way. “Because it’ll drain my powers, and worse, angel blood can turn fallen angels into mindless beasts.” Harvester was difficult enough to deal with now. “We’ll take turns standing watch. Can you take the first shift until Calder gets back?”
“Yup.”
“Let me know right away when Matt gets here.”
At Tav’s nod, Reaver gathered Harvester in his arms, slipped back inside the bush, and placed her on the thin layer of wool. She simultaneously scooted away from him and gripped his wrist with bruising force until he gently peeled her fingers away.
“I have food and clothes,” he said as he dug through the backpack for a canteen, a bottle of honey, and another blanket.
Crouching in front of her, he draped the second blanket over her shoulders and wrapped her carefully.
She said nothing as he gathered the ends and tucked them into her trembling hands. It wasn’t until he put the canteen to her lips and she’d taken several swallows that she finally spoke.
“Do you have an aurial?”
Shit. Asking about a weapon designed specifically to kill angels didn’t bode well. “No,” he lied.
She let out a ragged breath. “Then how do you plan to kill me?”
“Kill you?”
“Aren’t you here to destroy me?” She sounded almost disappointed.
�
��Nope.” She didn’t need to know that he’d mentally prepared himself to do exactly that if circumstances called for it. He wouldn’t allow her to suffer at her father’s command for all eternity. He popped the cap on the honey and held it up. “Open your mouth.”
She swatted blindly, knocking the honey to the ground. “Are you taking me to be tortured?” Fisting his T-shirt, she tugged him close, her sudden strength fueled by desperation. “I can’t… I can’t take more. I know you hate me, but please, I’m begging you. Kill me.”
“I’m here to rescue you, Harvester.” Reaver cupped her cheek, hating how gaunt it felt, how papery her skin was under his fingers.
Bewilderment left deep grooves in her forehead as she released him. “But… why?”
Once again, he held the honey up. “Open your mouth, and I’ll answer your questions.” When she hesitated, he added, “It’s just honey.”
She went taut, and he wondered if she was remembering how, when she’d held him captive in her home, she’d spooned honey into his mouth after he’d taken a brutal beating from Pestilence. He didn’t push her, and he breathed a sigh of relief when she finally opened up and allowed him to squeeze a small glop of the life-giving sugar onto her tongue.
Almost instantly, her color improved, and under her sunken eyelids, new tissue began to form.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured.
She hissed, flashing fangs as she struck out again, catching the honey bottle with her elbow and barely missing raking him with her nails. “I’m not your girl.”
“Well,” he said, not bothering to hide his smile from her sightless eyes, “the good news is that the honey gave you back your sparkling personality.”
“And the bad news?”
“The honey gave you back your sparkling personality.”
She huffed. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Yep, she was back, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be irritated.
“You want to know why I’m here?” He reached for the honey bottle. Again. “It’s because I know the truth about you. I know you’ve been Heaven’s spy since the Horsemen were cursed.”
Harvester’s fingers tightened on the blanket and her mouth worked silently for a few heartbeats. “Who told you?”
“Raphael.” He squeezed more honey into her mouth.
The pink tip of her tongue swept her bottom lip to catch a sticky drop that clung there. Damn, even as torn up as she was, she exuded a smoky sexuality that had made Reaver crazy from the moment he met her. Sure, she’d attacked him for no reason and he’d hated her instantly, but hatred hadn’t put a damper on the insane desire he felt whenever she was near.
He’d made a conscious effort to avoid her whenever he could because, like it or not, Reaver didn’t have a lot of willpower when it came to lust.
And then she’d forced him to consent to the very thing he’d been trying hard to not even think about.
“You agree to pleasure me at the time of my choosing.”
Harvester wouldn’t thank him for saving her, of that he was sure, but at the very least, he’d make sure she let him out of the ludicrous bargain they’d struck last year when she’d rescued him from Sheoul-gra.
“Raphael?” She frowned. “I still don’t understand. Why would the archangels send you?”
“They didn’t.”
“They… didn’t?” Dropping the blanket, she grabbed his shirt again, this time in both fists. “Tell me they know you’re here. Tell me.”
“They didn’t know I was here,” he said, putting effort into keeping his voice light and calm, even though he wasn’t feeling it, “but we stirred things up pretty good. They’ve probably gotten word by now.”
“Oh, no,” she whispered. “Oh… no.” Releasing him, she opened her eyes. They’d fully formed but were crystal clear, not yet capable of sight. “They’re going to destroy you, Reaver.”
She said it like he wasn’t aware of that fact. And why did she care, anyway? “It’ll be okay—”
“No, it won’t! You fool!” she spat out. “You’ve signed your own death warrant.”
The blanket had pooled at her hips, leaving her upper body exposed, but she didn’t seem to notice. Reaver noticed, but not because her breasts were perfect and he knew how they looked in a skimpy bikini top. He noticed because of the light pink lash marks crisscrossing her chest, and a dark cloud of anger descended on him. He suddenly wanted to lay waste to every vile creature who had laid a finger on her.
He told himself his reaction was ingrained in his battle angel DNA—he’d always felt an intense desire to kill demons who harmed people. He told himself that, but for some reason he heard Eidolon’s voice in his head saying bullshit. The demon had always been a straight shooter.
And look at that, Reaver was an angel with a demon on his shoulder.
“Don’t worry about me right now.” He settled the blanket around her shoulders, but again, it went ignored and fell open in front. “You need to save your strength to heal.”
“I’m not worried about you, and healing is pointless,” she replied. “You’ve got to kill me. Let Satan think you pulled a lone wolf and did it to get back at me for kidnapping you and helping Pestilence. The archangels will be furious that you went against their orders, but you’ll probably keep your wings. It’ll be a win-win all around.”
“I’m not killing you, so stop asking. We need you to track down Gethel, and we have to do it fast. She’s pregnant—”
“With Lucifer,” Harvester interrupted. “I know. Gethel wants me to be his Binky.”
“Binky?”
“His pacifier.” She tucked her legs under her, and he was glad to see some of the abrasions had healed. “He’ll be born fully grown, and he’ll need the blood of a sibling to help him achieve full strength. She already made a meal of me to make him stronger.”
Damn. “If we can kill him before he’s reborn, he won’t be using anyone as a Binky.”
One curvy shoulder shrugged under the blanket. “I’m not helping you track him down, so you might as well kill me now.”
“Why won’t you help?”
“Because.”
He ground his teeth. “Whether you help or not, I’m not killing you, and that’s final.”
“You’re as stubborn as ever.”
“I’m the stubborn one?” His mind churned with reasons she would refuse to help find Lucifer, but only one made sense. “You’re refusing to help find Lucifer just so I’ll kill you.”
“Maybe,” she said, “I’m refusing because I’m evil and Lucifer is going to be my brother. Ever think of that?”
She wasn’t serious. She couldn’t be serious. But she’d never been easy to read, and her expression right now would earn her a first-place ribbon at a mule show.
“I don’t believe you,” he ground out.
“Then maybe you’ll believe me when I say you’re going to regret not killing me.”
“That I believe.” He cursed, rethinking this entire rescue. “We’ll find Lucifer without your help.” How, he had no idea. Just surviving the journey out of Sheoul was going to be difficult enough.
“Good luck.” The irritation in her tone was mixed with exhaustion, and a moment later, she yawned.
“Let me get Tav in here. You need to feed.” As much as he hated the idea of her feeding from the incubus and getting all jacked up, he hated the fact that Harvester was so damaged even more.
Her sightless eyes shot wide. “No one touches me. Not until I can see.”
He didn’t want to be a dick and argue, but with his powers so compromised and probably every demon in Sheoul after them, they needed her to be as strong as possible.
“You need to regrow your wings—”
“I said no,” she snapped, the color rising in her face. “Don’t you see that I’m blind?”
Saying she was blind was the closest Harvester had ever come to admitting to having any kind of vulnerability. Bile rose in his throat at the level of despe
ration she must be feeling, and though it went against every instinct, he gave her more time to come around.
“We can wait until you wake up.” Hopefully Matt would be back by then. Werewolves, with their human origins, provided more nourishment than demons, by far. Very slowly, he reached for her. She flinched when his fingers brushed her shoulder. “You need to get some rest.”
He urged her to lie back on the ground. She went without an argument, which told him how tired she was. Harvester never did anything without a fight or a cutting word.
Closing her eyes, she curled up under the blanket, and within a couple of heartbeats, she was breathing in a deep, even rhythm.
But just as Reaver breathed a sigh of relief that she was asleep, she stiffened and gasped in alarm. “My father,” she croaked. “I can feel him. He’s coming for us, Reaver. Satan’s coming.”
Six
Very little frightened Revenant.
But right now, standing in Satan’s living room, he was scared shitless and sweating bullets inside his black leathers.
The Dark Lord’s rage was a force of nature that rocked the building, knocking over statues and shattering pillars and putting deep cracks in the walls, the floor, the ceiling. And in Rev’s skull.
Revenant clutched his head in his hands as Satan’s roar of fury blasted his eardrums. Blood ran from his ears, his nose, his mouth.
But he was far, far better off than the werewolf hanging from a hook in the middle of the room, his body shredded and studded with nails, blood streaming from a gaping hole where his eye used to be.
“Someone stole her,” Satan snarled. “Someone took her right out from under my nose.” He roared again. “How?” He grabbed the werewolf by the throat. “You helped. Tell me who took my daughter from me or I’ll carve out your other eye and eat it while it’s still warm.”
The guy admitted to being an assassin, which meant he likely couldn’t talk about who hired him even if he wanted to. The assassin’s oath was binding on a magical level, and while the spell could be broken, doing so would take time, and it would kill the assassin. And Revenant had a feeling Satan wanted to kill this guy with his bare hands. Or, as he was sporting right now, claws.