Storm and Fury

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  I was nothing more than storm and fury as I stepped forward and Misha looked up at me. He rose.

  “I love you,” I said, and Misha’s eyes widened. There was a flicker of surprise, almost as if he couldn’t believe I was going to do it, and for a brief second, I didn’t know what he wanted from me, what he expected. Didn’t he know me at all? Didn’t he know there was no way I’d let him kill Zayne?

  That I’d let him take me?

  Why didn’t he realize that?

  Misha reached for me.

  But I lifted the sword high as it spit white fire.

  Screaming filled my ears, drowning out everything around me and in me, and a distant part of me realized that it was me making those sounds, it was me wailing as I swung the sword down on Misha.

  The white flames burned bright, and I thought there was a moment our gazes locked, a moment when I saw the boy I grew up with staring back at me through familiar beautiful blue eyes, but then the flames swallowed Misha, and within a stuttered heartbeat, he was gone. There was nothing left of him but ashes—

  A sudden icy feeling poured into my chest, knocking the air out of my lungs. I took a step, but my legs collapsed and I landed on my knees, not evening feeling the pain.

  Oh God.

  A shudder racked me from bones to muscles, and when it receded, taking the iciness with it, I couldn’t...

  I couldn’t feel it.

  I lifted a trembling hand and pressed it to the center of my chest, just below my breasts. I couldn’t feel it—the bond.

  It was gone—broken, and that meant, Misha was... He was truly gone.

  35

  The grace recoiled deep inside me, pulling back. The sword collapsed into itself and the corners of my vision darkened as I stared at the spot where Misha had stood. I opened my mouth, but I could make no sound, as if my throat had sealed itself off. There was a vast emptiness inside me, a hole...

  Misha was gone.

  Bending at the waist, I drew in a shallow breath that hurt. The breath went nowhere, stuck in my burning throat. My hands shook. My entire body trembled as raw, unbearable pain swallowed me and questions pounded through me. How could this have happened? How could Misha do this? How could he become this lost, and I never saw it? I lifted my hands and stared down at them. My fingers trembled. So did my legs. My entire body rattled.

  I’d killed Misha. I’d had to, but I killed him and I—

  Zayne.

  Pulling myself back from the brink, I scrambled to my feet and staggered toward him. Every part of my being focused on him. Zayne was here. He’d been hurt. Bad. I had to help him. He was the priority. Not Misha. Not me. Zayne. I dropped to my knees beside him. I reached for him but stopped, unsure of where I could touch him.

  “Oh, Zayne,” I whispered. For a heart-stopping moment, I didn’t know what to do. His eyes were closed, and a horrible fear surfaced. It was so bad that wild panic dug deep and it eased only a little when I saw his chest finally move.

  He wasn’t in his Warden form, seeming to have lost the strength to shift back. Half his body was...charred, ruddy and black. There was a terrible gash across his chest, deep enough to expose the muscles beneath the skin. Whatever injuries I had, which seemed like a lot, were nothing in comparison to what had been done to Zayne.

  What he had done to himself to protect me.

  “I need to get us help,” I said, touching his left cheek, where he wasn’t burned. The breath I took was shaky. “Do you think—?”

  “I’m sorry.” His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “I’m so sorry.”

  I shook my head, wanting to touch him more but afraid of hurting him. “What are you sorry for? You—”

  “Misha,” he groaned, his eyes opening into thin slits. “I’m so sorry.”

  If I thought my heart was incapable of shattering even more, I was wrong. It cracked wide open as I blinked back my tears. “Don’t,” I whispered, gently brushing the hair back from his face. “Don’t apologize for him.”

  “I know...” His breath shuddered out of him as his face tensed. “I know how much he...means to you and you...you shouldn’t have had to do that.”

  His face blurred as I fought back tears. “Thank you...” My voice broke.

  “He...he hurt you.” Zayne shuddered.

  “I’ll be okay...” I would, but Zayne... “Do you think you can get up? Or do you think you can at least shift?”

  “I...I don’t think so,” he said, and that was bad. If he could shift, it would kick in his healing abilities, and if he stayed in his human form, he’d keep getting worse until he—

  I cut that thought off. “I’m not going to let you die, Zayne. You annoy me too much for me to let you die.”

  A huffing, pained laugh came from him. “That doesn’t...make any sense.”

  “It makes complete sense,” I told him. “You need to shift.”

  “You...you need to go before more...demons show up,” he said, his chest rising and then sinking. “You’re bleeding all over. I smell it. Ice cream.”

  “I’m not leaving you, Zayne. I need you to concentrate and shift. If not, you—you’re going to die a virgin, Zayne. Do you want to die a virgin?”

  He laughed and it ended on a choking sound that sent my heart plummeting. “I cannot believe you just said that.”

  “Me, neither, but come on, Zayne. Please. God. Please, don’t do this. I...” I really like you. It might even be deeper than that. I might even be falling...falling in love with him, and I couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not ever. “I really like you, Zayne.”

  “I think...that was pretty evident a few nights ago.”

  Despite everything that had happened and everything that could still happen, I flushed as I picked up his hand and felt that jolt that always came with skin-to-skin contact with him. “I need you, Zayne. So, I’m not going to let you die. You’re going to shift and then we’re going to get out—”

  I felt it then, the hot breath along the back of my neck. Every muscle in my body tensed as I twisted at the waist, prepared to lay waste to anyone or anything—

  A form came out of the smoke and fire, taking shape. It wasn’t until he was a few feet from me that I realized it was Roth.

  I relaxed.

  A little.

  “Hell,” Roth muttered, going straight to Zayne. He dropped to his knees beside the Warden, reached for him but stopped, hands curling around empty air. “I came back as soon as I could. I...”

  “He’s hurt. Bad. We need to get him out of here and get him help,” I said.

  Roth glanced at me then, his amber eyes luminous, and the look he gave me robbed the air from my lungs. Everything he didn’t dare speak was in his...his pained expression. Everything I feared resided there.

  Too late.

  That was the look Roth gave me.

  It was too late.

  “No,” I whispered, trembling.

  Roth’s lips parted. “I—”

  Something happened right then.

  It started with a shimmer of light that looked like fireflies had invaded the yard. The tiny hairs rose all over my body as Zayne lifted his head off the wall. I looked around, seeing thousands of twinkling lights, as if the stars had descended from the skies. The fires around us flickered and then went out.

  Fear exploded in my gut. Not for me. Not for Zayne. But for the demon prince who was so very much unlike a demon, who loved Layla and cared enough for Zayne that he came back.

  My head whipped toward where Roth crouched beside Zayne, whose eyes were closed again. “You need to go,” I told him. “Now.”

  Roth was staring at the lights now, his eyes wide. “Is that...?”

  “Yes.” My mouth dried. “If you stay, he will kill you. You know that, right? You can’t take him. No one can. You need to go. We’ll be okay.” I hoped at least.
“But you won’t be.”

  For a moment I thought Roth would argue and say something arrogant, but common sense prevailed. He seemed to know this wasn’t an Alpha that his familiar could swallow up whole. What was coming was death for him. He looked at me, nodded and then turned to Zayne. “Don’t die,” he growled. “It would upset Layla.”

  And then Roth was gone, moving too fast for me to see him. Letting out a shaky breath, I focused on the twinkling lights.

  “Am I... Am I seeing this?” Zayne asked, and I wasn’t even sure he was aware that Roth had been here.

  “Yeah.” I swallowed.

  My grip on his hand tightened as blinding white light poured into the yard, dripping from the burned trees and running down the walls of the house. It was so bright that my eyes stung and I had to look away.

  I knew who it was.

  I knew who was coming.

  Zayne struggled to sit forward, throwing an arm back against me as he shifted his large body so that I was partially blocked. Even horrifically injured, he was trying to protect me, and I tried to tell Zayne it was okay, but then the trumpets sounded, rattling the walls and our eardrums. I winced, placing my hands over my ears as the horns blared once more. When they stopped and the light receded, Zayne was staring into the center of the yard, his spine stiff.

  “Holy...” He trailed off.

  Lifting my head, I lowered my hands and looked to where Zayne was staring.

  He stood in the center of the driveway, his long, widespread legs encased in leather and his torso and chest shielded by golden battle armor. His arms were bare and his skin put off a luminous glow that made it difficult to tell exactly what his skin tone was. His hair was fair, brushing his shoulders, and from what I could make out of his features, he looked no older than Nicolai, though I knew he was ageless.

  The air stirred as his wings lifted behind him, white and feathered, stretching at least ten feet on either side of him.

  Michael, my father, sure liked to make an entrance.

  “What a waste,” the archangel said as he stared at what remained of Misha.

  I flinched at his words.

  He walked toward us, the grounds trembling under his weight, and I realized at once why he was here.

  Horror punched through my gut as I dipped under Zayne’s arm, planting myself between him and my father. “Don’t,” I said, staring up at my father. “Please don’t force this on him.”

  My father halted.

  I swallowed at the look on his face, one that said he was shocked that I dared to question him or stop him. “You saw what happened when you forced this bond. Please don’t do it to Zayne.” My voice shook. “Please don’t force him to take this bond.”

  “What?” Zayne was leaning on his side.

  “He’s going to force you to become my Protector, like he did to Misha,” I said, crouching in front of Zayne. “I will not allow it. I will not allow you—”

  “You will allow nothing.” My father cut me off, his all-white eyes pulsing. “And you assume too much.”

  I lifted my chin. “I don’t assume—”

  “You assume too much just by speaking.” He cut me off again, focusing on Zayne. My father’s upper lip curled. “You do not impress me.”

  “Good to know.” Zayne groaned as he forced himself into a sitting position. I scrambled backward, supporting his weight as he met my father’s glare.

  My father continued to sneer. “Your faith in demons disturbs me greatly.”

  “I...I imagine it would,” Zayne replied. “All things considered...”

  The sneer faded. “But here we are, as we should have already been. The mistake was made ten years ago. It will not be made again.”

  “Mistake?” At once, I remembered what Thierry and Matthew had said, what Peanut had overheard. Them speaking about a mistake. The same thing Misha had said my mother had been close to figuring out. “What mistake?”

  I didn’t think my father would answer, but then he said, “Protectors are predestined at birth, linked to their charges before they even meet. They thought it was Misha based on how quickly you took to him when you first met. They were wrong.”

  “They?”

  “Those who have taken care of you. Thierry. Matthew.” His all white-eyes shifted to Zayne. “Your father.”

  “My father?” Zayne repeated.

  “Your father was supposed to retrieve her,” he said, inclining his chin toward me. “Not the half demon.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  Zayne shook his head, groaning at the movement. “I don’t... I don’t understand.”

  “Me, neither. I mean, I get it. You’re saying I was never supposed to be bonded to Misha, then why did you bond me to him?” My thoughts raced. “Why didn’t you step in? Why—? You should’ve—”

  “It was not my job to step in, nor is it your place to question what I should have or should not have done,” he said, eyes sparking white light. “I did not realize the mistake was made until after you were bonded. I decided to see what would happen.”

  I was thunderstruck. “You...you decided to see what would happen?”

  “After all, it must have been a part of the grand plan,” he replied, and then he shrugged, as if it was no big deal, and all I could do was stare as a shudder worked its way through me.

  He didn’t even care.

  He didn’t care that Misha was never supposed to be bonded to me, or that Misha was now dead. He simply just did not care.

  And why was I surprised? Angels didn’t have emotions. They didn’t even have a soul, not like humans did.

  My father’s shoulders straightened. “Do you, Warden, accept this bond, forsaking all others and all duties, to become her Protector until death breaks this bond?”

  My breath caught.

  “Yes,” Zayne groaned. “Yes, I will become her Protector.”

  Panic blossomed. This was happening too fast. “Zayne—”

  “Then it shall be done.” My father placed a hand on the side of Zayne’s ruined face, causing him to gasp in pain. He placed his other hand on mine, and then I felt it.

  Heat rushed through his palm, in and out of me, flowing through the archangel and into Zayne. His body bowed and the grace filled him, irrevocably connecting him to me. Zayne was awash in heavenly light, completely indistinguishable. I could scarcely breathe as I felt the warmth pouring into my chest, replacing the bond once held with Misha, erasing the hollow emptiness left behind.

  The pain—oh God, the pain of Misha’s betrayal was still there, but...but Zayne was there. I felt him deep inside me, taking root, his essence becoming a part of mine.

  Then I felt more.

  Two heartbeats instead of one. Mine. His. Together. And that...that was something I’d never felt with Misha.

  When the light receded, Zayne was slumped over, his hands planted against the ground, his burned and torn skin and chest healed.

  Seeing that, knowing that he was going to be okay, was almost too much to take. I started to shake.

  My father leaned in, whispering in Zayne’s ear. I couldn’t hear what was said, but whatever it was caused Zayne’s eyes to widen and his gaze to swing toward me. A look of dawning understanding filled his expression. I didn’t get a chance to question what was said to him.

  “Rise up.” Michael removed his hands from us. “For what has begun a millennium ago is now at the door. The Harbinger has arrived.” His voice deepened, booming like thunder, and the words he spoke sent a cold chill straight to my core. “The end is upon us. Stop it, or all mankind is lost.”

  36

  “Trin.”

  The soft brush of fingertips against my cheek stirred me awake. I blinked open my eyes and found myself staring into Zayne’s pale blue ones fringed in thick, brown lashes. His golden skin was unmarred—not even the faint
est hint of pink remained from where he’d been burned. It was almost like he’d never been hurt. Almost like last night hadn’t happened. That we didn’t go to that senator’s house and end up surrounded by demons. Almost like Misha hadn’t showed, and I...I hadn’t had to kill him. All of it felt like a nightmare, a really bad one that haunted you throughout the day, slipping in and out of your consciousness when you least expected it.

  But there was a warmth in my chest, a ball of light beside my heart that beat in step with Zayne’s.

  Last night had happened, and Zayne was now... He was my Protector.

  Out of the ten years I’d been bonded to Misha, I’d never felt what I felt now. With Misha, it had been a connection, but with Zayne, it was as if a piece of him existed inside me.

  And it was weird.

  Drawing in a shallow breath, I sat up and pulled my legs out from under a rainbow-colored quilt I hadn’t fallen asleep with. Hair fell across my face as I pulled my gaze from Zayne’s and looked around the unfamiliar room. It was small, oval room and there were playpens across from the couch that I’d been dozing on. I was in the DC compound. We’d come here last night after...everything, and while Zayne met with Nicolai and the rest of his clan, I’d left to call Thierry, and Jada, and somehow I’d roamed into this small room while Zayne told his clan what had happened last night—what Misha had done, what he’d hinted at and what my father had warned.

  I hadn’t wanted to be there for the blow-by-blow of what I’d already lived through, and there had been more pressing matters. I’d needed to call home.

  Telling Jada and Thierry and Matthew had been one of the hardest things I’d ever done. There’d been tears from Jada and Matthew, and stony silence from Thierry—silence I knew came from a place of great shock and guilt, because, like me, he couldn’t believe it and he couldn’t understand how he hadn’t seen it. The call had ended with Matthew leaving to come here, and I’d promised to come home to see Jada as soon as possible.

  I had no idea how I’d dozed off, but after using the grace twice, I shouldn’t be surprised even though my injuries had been healed when my father had restored Zayne.