I twirled around, then wished that I hadn’t.
Trapped at the far side were a small gang of trembling angel boys; Trick and the FF surrounded them. The gang were the same Lost Boys that I’d fought side-by-side with and protected when everything had been reversed, and I’d been fighting with the angels. I’d promised these kids that they were my family.
Why the hell would the Matriarch send them on this mission?
Except, I knew why: they were the pawns. A sacrifice to test if my vampiric side had fattened enough to kill the kids who’d hero worshiped me.
And I didn’t bastard know whether it had.
I slashed my way across the writhing mass of feathers and sweating bodies. Flight shot out flaming white feathers across the battle.
I shuddered at each wail. Trick was playing with the boys. Tempting each out to one-on-one combat, he danced around them in his swirl of leather. As they swiped at him with their sword, he hacked them to ribbons with his claws.
A struggle arose beside him, and I faltered: Commander Drake.
The angel’s slim body hung in the brutal grip of two FF, who towered over him. His bare toes barely touched the floor. His creamy back and chest were scored with gashes, which wept scarlet as if he’d been flayed, staining his indigo silk harem trousers until they clung to him like red skin.
So, Trick had played his game with Drake first.
Drake lifted his bowed head; his golden curls stuck to his forehead with sweat, but his violet eyes met mine. They widened with a desperate hope, before shuttering as if he’d sensed something in me.
And it wasn’t rainbows and pixie dreams.
Slowly, Drake turned away his head, and his shoulders slumped.
I was going medieval on Trick’s arse.
I raised Flight, and she howled, heating lava-like.
How many fights has it taken to win the title Champion of the Under World?
The Genie and his Night of a Thousand Cuts is your mummy’s Marked Wing, and although his ass is for the gods, his dick is the Matriarch’s.
If you save him and his kid army, you’ll be branding ANGEL across your forehead. And girl, in the land of the vampires, that’s not a good look.
What were your last words to me?
I’m a Protector…?
I won’t leave kids to be sliced. They need protecting, and I’m their Monster Princess. I’m no one’s branded bitch.
Not yet…
The bolt of winged fire shot from Flight. The FF shrieked, as it sizzled across his arms, falling back from Drake.
Drake collapsed, before struggling towards the gang of boys.
When the remaining giant spun to me, I booted him in the balls. Then I slashed Flight in a hissing arc across his chest. Blood bubbled up and sprayed out, before I hooked him across the chin, stumbling him into a wall of Glories.
Trick gawked at me, whilst his claws still raked across the chest of a weeping boy. When I raised my eyebrow at him — blood splattered across my cheeks — Trick dropped the kid and raised his hands in mock defeat.
I smirked but then caught Drake’s panicked gaze.
“Princess, turn around,” Drake commanded. “Now. Do not trust…”
I twirled, staggering back at the searing shock of the flames from the arrow that’d shot through my shoulder.
I dropped to my knees, keening.
The Valkyrie grinned, stroking her golden bow. Her threats hadn’t been empty after all, she had pierced me through with blazing fire.
8
Fire coursed through my shoulder, sealing the arrow’s wound and arching my back in agony.
I blinked at the cold on my cheeks: tears that’d been conjured by the heat.
In the roar of the battle, I curled around myself, swaying on my knees. I couldn’t raise my right arm; numbness snaked down it. Flight had clattered away from me, and I couldn’t reach her hilt. When she moaned, I looked up…into the smug grin of the vengeful Valkyrie.
The Glory had only messed me up when I’d started the Norse myth trolling. Maybe I shouldn’t…?
I pulled myself straighter. “Newbie mistake, bitch. This isn’t Valhalla…”
A cool hand muffled my taunts, just as blood-stained silk patted out the flames around the arrow.
I recoiled, but Drake’s quiet words stilled me, “Hush, now. Extraordinary, I believe that you’ve cracked the honor of our latest Supreme Commander.”
The Valkyrie tipped back her head and howled: Drake had a point.
And no trousers.
I licked Drake’s palm, and he squirmed, shaking away his hand from my mouth. “Cheers for the ultimate sacrifice, harem boy.”
Drake blushed, folding his wings over his prick, like I hadn’t seen him naked before or stripped from him those same trousers that’d put out the flames. The rich scent of frankincense wound around me, intoxicating. Even wounded as he was, he was coldly beautiful, and I ached that he wasn’t mine the same as Rebel or Ash.
“You know little of sacrifice.” He closed his eyes, but his shoulder brushed against mine. “I am now the lamb, am I not?”
I stroked across Drake’s eyelids with my left hand, and his eyes opened. His gaze shot to mine, startled. “You’re fam, yeah? I’ll protect you, no different to the rest of my blokes.”
“Lie,” he whispered; his smile was sad. “Although, a pretty one.”
When he pushed himself up like an exotic bird caught and butchered, blood rain dropped from his gashed skin onto my lips. I gasped at the zing of brilliant candyfloss that tripped through me: magic, sex, and Drake’s heady power.
Hell, I’d more than missed him: I’d mourned him.
I grasped Drake’s hand, as the boys, clawed and tattered, stumbled to stand around me.
I snorted: the mighty Bone Champion shielded by angel kids, the same ones who I’d once saved on the battlefield from the FF vampires.
Drake glanced down uncertainly at where our hands linked. Then he pressed his free hand to his forehead as he murmured, “Allow me to remind you how you burned me, during my attempt to stop your escape from Angel World. One of us, however, can follow your mother’s orders and still save you from the fire now.”
Not spy level stealthy, yet even through the pain of still having an arrow through my shoulder, I caught onto Drake’s stiffly rehearsed script: The Matriarch was watching. Just as she had at the battle with Drake’s kid army, although she’d chosen to hide in the mountainous Angel World, whilst Drake and I had battled and she’d used my eyes to spy. This time she was inside Drake’s mind, however, and if we survived, he’d be the lamb roasted if I snuggled with him and let slip how he’d saved me.
Instead, I snatched back my hand, shaking with distress that once again I had to pretend that Drake was my enemy. “I’d forgotten what a girlie brat you were.” Drake winced; I hoped that he didn’t believe my act. But then, I’d spent most of my time in the Matriarch’s poisoned court hurting him, so why would I’ve stopped now? “You can cry all the way back to my mummy. I’m not running home with my tail between my legs because I’m not a loyal bitch, like you.”
Drake gazed at me coldly. “Enough. The Supreme Commander shall not care whether you’re a…bitch…or not.”
I swallowed, as the Valkyrie stalked towards me with her bow still raised. And she didn’t look the type to take no for an answer.
My breaths were harsh and ragged.
Which was worse: to be shot in the face or dragged back to my mum’s toxic court as spoils?
I’d have to take the arrow to the head.
I reached for my violet fire, but the shaking pain of the arrow’s fire had subdued it. I tilted my chin, as the Valkyrie drew her bow, only for Drake to step in front of me.
I yanked him down, and he yelped. “Way to break our cover.”
He shrugged. “I apologize for attempting to save your life.” He tilted his head; his curls fell over his eyes. “I forget quite how many times that is now.”
Then a
crackling arrow flared against my cheek, the Valkyrie’s shadow dyed me in black, and I screwed closed my eyes, preparing to have my head set alight.
Screams, hollers, roars.
I cracked open my eyes, only to hiss against the swirling living light that tore whirlwind through the center of the chamber in a rumbling rush. Blindingly bright and yet chillingly cold, it caught each angel in its cruel embrace, before incinerating them in a blast of ashes.
I tumbled backwards, hissing at the jolt to my shoulder.
“The king,” Drake breathed, quivering. “Behind me!” He bellowed at the cowering boys, clutching at them with trembling hands.
But this wasn’t an enemy that could be protected against. It was judgment and death.
And it was coming for us.
A sobbing boy clung to my leg; he peered up at me. “Monster Princess,” he wailed, as if my name alone could make this elemental terror of light, which had been born out of the dark, fade back into the shadows.
I was his Monster Princess: his savior.
It jolted me because since I’d been stuck in the Under World, I’d fought for nothing but my own pride, celebrity, and blood. I’d been more than that before, and I bastard would be again.
The light twisted towards us — screams and ashes filled the chamber. Even the vampires cringed, as the tornado passed.
Violet me up, before I’m cremated alive.
You wanted to meet your daddy, Feathery-face, and here he is in all his glory.
The bastard just had his custody revoked.
There’s a reason that the Fallen fear the light. And it’s not their migraines in the sun.
It’s the Light-bringer.
Right now, he’s bringing it not on your arse but the Ice Commander’s. Let him cleanse Drake and his kids from the Under World, and that ANGEL brand on your forehead will be burned off.
You’re the Ice Bitch, J, because that’s cold.
If that’s what it takes to prove my loyalty, then I’d rather be a traitor.
How did that work out for your Seducer soldier?
Just remember, I offered you a way out.
I shuddered; my stomach roiled.
When I tipped back my head, my throat tingled, before an arc of flames exploded from my mouth in a snaking stream, falling over the heads of Drake and his boys and shielding us in a spitting bubble.
Staggering backwards, the Valkyrie dropped her bow. Her face became pinched, as she hammered on the bubble, even though it seared her fists, begging to be let in.
Despite the arrow in my shoulder…and the one that she’d held to my head…if I’d been able to break the flames, I’d have pulled the Valkyrie inside.
Because no one deserved to die like that.
The Valkyrie was torn up into the arms of the light’s wind and became nothing but ash, falling onto the top of our fire shield.
The boys wailed, clutching onto Drake and me, as if we were dysfunctional parents on a vacation gone wrong. My gaze met Drake’s over their heads.
Us next.
Except, the light battered against my fire, howling in its outrage at being denied its treat, and although my shield flickered, it didn’t break.
Please, bastard hold…
I stared down the light, even though it haloed against my retinas, burning. I jumped, as just for a moment, fiery coal eyes scrutinized mine from the center of the light.
The king: my dad.
As the light winked out with a final furious wail, I shook because I’d defied the King of the Under World to fight on the side of the angels.
I’d made an enemy who was so dangerous that he could burn armies to ash.
9
I shook, trapped in the darkness.
And I couldn’t bastard move.
Taking panicked breaths, I could feel something soft underneath me and…delicate hands touching me. I fought to pull away but I was frozen in the shadows, trapped in their touch. Tears burned.
J, help me, what’s…?
Nothing but a muffled bass guitar throbbing over a tom-tom like a heartbeat and low laughter.
Don’t rage quit on me because I saved the angels. Please….
Another sweep of slim but strong fingers across my shoulder, followed by a flare of stinging pain, before it dulled.
Don’t abandon me.
I was wrong, yeah? Is that what you want to hear? I don’t want to be alone.
Finally! Give that girl a crown.
With a wild gasp, my eyes flew open, and I was hit with the Savage’s ferocious punk, loud enough that I cringed from the battle cries and manic chanting, along with the funky whiff of tequila.
The Blood Lover’s bar on the abandoned station.
When I tried to sit up, my arse sank into the shaggy sofa, which I’d been laid onto, and a pale hand pushed me down: the hand that’d been touching me.
“I’d take Mr Naughty Feels away if you don’t want me to bite it off,” I growled.
Mischief snatched away his hand. “I see our ball of beastly sunshine is with us again. I’m delighted that my magic could yet again save your life.”
Oh yeah: violet fire, pissed off light dad, shielding Drake and his kids until they escaped, and then…nothing but black.
An arrow will to do that, even to a Monster Princess.
Mischief knelt next to the sofa. Shadows darkened the skin underneath his eyes like bruises, and he swayed, struggling to hide it by bracing himself against the mosaic floor.
Mischief looked like he’d been the one who’d been shot. Hell, was that how his Angelic Power worked?
“Why didn’t you tell me that you take pain? Heal by transferring it?” I demanded. “That’s screwed-up.”
Mischief raised an eyebrow. “Why would you care? There are reasons I don’t offer out this service to everyone. Among other things, it hastens the speed that I Fall. Will you now award extra brownie points?”
I stroked his sweating forehead. “As long as you’re not plotting to save them up and spend them all at once on something fiendish.”
Mischief smirked through his agony. “You know me so well already. But I shan’t have the time to do that…yet.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “We find ourselves in a tricky situation.”
For the first time, I glanced around the bar, across the imperial map and through the glistening arches. And realized that everything had changed.
The Blood Lovers were no longer cowering humans, but a sensual, subversive, terrifying tribe.
Fishnets, bondage, and piercings. The Blood Lovers blazed with an energy that wasn’t human, not anymore. It buzzed in every swing of their hips, tangle of naked limbs bent over tables as natural as any orgy, or smash of shot glasses on the bar. It also lurked in the darkness of their eyes, as they watched us: the outsiders in their private world.
Maybe a parade would’ve been too much for saving them but how about a medal? Or I’d settle for a tequila on the house and for them to stop staring at us with those Village of the Damned eyes.
Ash had been stripped down to his jeans, stretched out across the length of the bar. Two girls in matching patent leather catsuits and black lipstick sucked love bites across his chest, whilst he squirmed, biting at his swollen nipples as they held him down by the neck.
Unlike when I’d first seen Ash with the Blood Lovers, however, this wasn’t worship: it was ownership.
And I should know.
I hadn’t left Ash down here for this abuse.
I surged up, but Mischief tugged at my leg. “It is even trickier yet for your Irish angel.”
I spun around, but I couldn’t see Rebel through the heaving carnal celebration. When I twisted back to Mischief, he merely jerked his head upwards.
I gasped.
Rebel had been pinned against the roof; his bent wing weakly flapped. Without feeding from sunlight for so long, which all angels needed, would he even be able to fly to save himself if he was dropped…?
How did Mischief still have
the strength for his Angelic Powers? Unless someone was feeding him light…?
Rebel’s lip was split. He shook, but he didn’t fight back because the Commander who shoved him in the chest by his elbows, holding him precariously high above my head, was his older brother: Wings.
In faded black denim jacket over emerald shirt, and a short buzz of red hair, Wings was just like Rebel and yet nothing like him: his eyes held the killer edge of a soldier, whereas Rebel’s still blinked with a soft innocence.
Even though I knew that Rebel was a killer too.
And, of course, Wings had no hands. Not since I’d burned them off in our last battle.
Rebel didn’t know I’d done that, however, because I’d kept it a secret.
I couldn’t help the sigh of relief that Wings had survived, and I hadn’t killed Rebel’s family. Yet that family was slamming Rebel into the roof, and my wings were beating before I could engage brain.
“How many times, git angel?” Oomph — Wings smashed Rebel against the marble, whilst his elbow ground into Rebel’s throat. “Traitor.” Oomph. “Coward.” Oomph. “Our da is dead because of you.”
I caught Wings before he could crack Rebel’s head back again; scarlet snaked behind Rebel’s ears, matting his hair.
“Time out,” I snarled, shoving Wings next to Rebel with one hand, as I pulled Rebel’s shaky arms around my neck. “If you can’t play nicely with your bro, then you can’t play at all.”
Rebel didn’t look away from Wings. “Briathos… If you can’t forgive me then… Sweet Jesus, please, let me…just let me, this once, explain…”
“Why?” Wings shrugged one careful shoulder. “So you can fib as you’ve always done? Slink your way back into my life as a Shadow? Pretend that you’re a real fellah, when you’re nothing but a banjaxed Addict?” Rebel flinched on each jibe as if he was still being slammed into the roof. “I don’t have hands now.” My heart thudded, as Wings met my gaze, before he sneered, “But I’m a hundred times the warrior that you’ll ever be. Da knew that. Your owner does too, or she wouldn’t have torn me to tatters. A predator knows a predator.”
Rebel whined, panting.
Rebel Angels: The Complete Series Page 59