King of the Damned: A League of Guardians Novel

by Juliana Stone

“So,” he repeated, deciding a different approach was in order. “Good call, the coffee’s great.”

  “What’s your story?”

  So much for aimless conversation—didn’t seem like a different approach was going to work. “Excuse me?” Azaiel watched Rowan’s long fingers as they grasped the cup between her hands. She leaned forward and took a sip before wiping the corner of her mouth.

  “Everyone has a beginning, middle, and end, Azaiel. I’d like to know your beginning and middle. For want of a better word, we’re a team, so don’t you think we should at least know the basics about each other?” She flashed a smile. “I’m sure that Batman knew everything there was to know about Robin.”

  Another Batman fan.

  “Of course I’m Batman, and you’re the sidekick,”

  “Of course,” he murmured.

  Azaiel studied her through hooded eyes. Her hair was damp, and the odd piece that had loosened from her ponytail clung to her forehead in wispy curls. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes clear, and that damn mouth was parted in such a way that his thoughts immediately went south.

  His groin tightened as a soft smile stole over her features.

  Way effing south, and she knew it. Jezebel.

  “I’m not that interesting,” he said stiffly, frowning through his words as her smile deepened.

  “How old are you?”

  He considered her question.

  “Come, on. Ballpark figure.” She was flirting, and some small piece of him melted. What the hell was he going to do with her?

  “Rowan, I’ve been around for millennia.” His eyes stared into hers intently. “Do you know what that means?”

  “That you’re really, really, really”—she paused dramatically—“old?”

  He smiled; he couldn’t help it. The little witch was working it, and there was nothing to do but play along. “Among other things, yes, that’s exactly what it means.”

  “So what do you—”

  He shook his head and narrowed his eyes. “No, my turn.”

  She laughed, a full-bodied, unconventional laugh that drew the attention of the men in the corner. She waved at them and giggled. “Oh this is a game, is it?”

  “Seems fair, don’t you think?”

  “Sure, go for it.” She took another sip of her coffee and leaned into the booth. “Ask me anything you want.”

  He opened his mouth, but she stopped him before he had a chance to speak. “But the only rule is that we have to be honest, all right?”

  Azaiel held her gaze for several moments before he spoke. “Who’s Mason?”

  Rowan looked surprised at his question. “Oh.” She glanced away and shrugged. “Mason is . . . or was a man that I was involved with back in California. He was my boyfriend.”

  “So you’re not involved anymore.”

  She shook her head. “Nope.”

  This pleased him. “Just like that.”

  She nodded. “Just like that.”

  “When did you—”

  “Ah, ah, ah . . . I just answered two questions.” She grinned, and he found himself doing the same as she licked her lips. “My turn.”

  “Fine.”

  “Who carved the wings into your shoulders?”

  His grin quickly fled, and he glanced out into the darkness beyond the windows. Christ, why had he agreed to this stupid game? Because I like to hear her laugh. For several moments there was silence. He should have known Rowan wouldn’t play nice.

  “A sorcerer by the name of Cormac O’Hara.”

  “Why did he—”

  Azaiel cocked his head, and she made a face. “I know, your turn.”

  He eyed his cup, then asked a question he’d been wondering about for several days. “Who or what the hell is Leroy?”

  Rowan burst into laughter once more, and he loved the way her face lit up. The smattering of freckles stood out against her pale skin, and the urge to reach across the table and taste them was strong.

  Azaiel shifted in his seat, once again hard and wanting . . . and unfulfilled.

  “Leroy is a goblin who was cursed by a bunch of witches juiced up on dark mojo. They were using magick illegally, and I’m not sure about the details, but I think he was being an ass . . . no pun intended.” She snorted, and he found himself smiling. “They put a spell on him and turned him into a donkey. We’ve tried several times but haven’t been able to reverse it, and it’s been nearly ten years.”

  “That was not what I was expecting to hear.”

  She smiled, a slow grin that made him clench his teeth. “Leroy is a nasty son of a bitch, and I’m not saying he deserves to be a donkey, but none of us are losing any sleep over it, that’s for sure.”

  A blast of wind slammed into the window, which shuddered from the onslaught. Out there the cold bore down upon Salem with a fury that was not entirely natural. Something watched and waited. He felt it, and if Rowan’s nervous fingers were any indication, she felt it, too.

  “Who is Toniella?”

  His mouth tightened at her name though Azaiel was careful to keep his face neutral. He remained silent, stared into the recesses of his coffee cup for a few moments.

  “Earlier this afternoon, Kellen mentioned her to me. He said that she was there. That she helped you.”

  Azaiel nodded. “She was.”

  “He said that you knew her from before . . .”

  Azaiel pushed his now-empty coffee mug away and narrowed his eyes. “If Kellen told you all this, then why are you asking me?” He shrugged. “Seems to me you know more details than I care to give.”

  She moistened her lips and leaned forward. “He didn’t tell me what she meant to you.”

  He scowled. “That’s more than one question.”

  “I don’t care,” she retorted. “What did she mean to you?”

  Her breath fell in rapid spurts. He watched her small breasts rise and fall in agitation. She seemed upset.

  “Why do you care?” He watched her closely.

  “I don’t . . .” She lowered her lashes and stared into her coffee cup. “I don’t know why I care. I just . . . would like to know what the woman meant to you.” She shrugged. “You don’t have to answer.”

  “She was my lover.”

  Her eyes shot up, and he held her gaze steady. “She was my obsession. My world. My curse.”

  Her eyes were like large round drops of liquid navy. They shimmered when she was high on emotion, and at the moment she was flying.

  “Did you . . . love her?”

  Azaiel frowned and glanced out into the darkness. He thought he had. Lord knows he’d lain awake many a night thinking of her smile, her hair, and her golden skin. He’d turned his back on his brothers for her. His god. His morals. Had he done that for love?

  No.

  For the first time since his banishment to Hell, he realized that it had been all wrong. Love had never entered the equation. It had about been ego, lust, and power.

  Which made his fall all the more ridiculous.

  “Azaiel?”

  Mist parted along the sidewalk, and his eyes narrowed as three tall forms slid into view. They held weapons in both hands and blew fire out of their nostrils. The streetlight above them sizzled and went out as they passed by. Farther down the street, totally unaware, was a group of teenagers, huddled together underneath a storefront awning, smoking and fooling around.

  It looked like an intense situation was about to unfold. One that required his aid. One that required the present conversation to end. Excellent.

  “We need to go,” he muttered.

  Rowan followed his eyes. “Shit.” She reached for her com and immediately called for backup. They rose quietly and slipped out of the coffee shop—two lethal hunters. As they entered the street, Rowan glanced up at him, her hands loose and ready to fire energy bolts. The air surrounding her was charged, and in that moment she looked magnificent.

  “Just so you know?”

  He cocked his head, his thoughts grim and
chaotic.

  “Our conversation isn’t over. You never answered my last question.”

  She took off running, and something inside him twisted as she threw her hands up and shot an energy blast straight at the trio of demons. One of them caught sight of her and threw a large machete in her direction. Rowan ducked and rolled to the side, a gazelle on feet as light as clouds.

  The woman was crazy. She was unpredictable and fierce. She was loyal, brave, and happened to have the most delectable ass ever.

  Azaiel strode toward the melee, his thoughts dark. He knew how uncertain her future was. He knew what his oath to the League meant.

  If it came to Rowan’s life—if she failed to defeat the demon Mallick—would he be strong enough to follow through with his mission?

  He scooped up the machete and attacked with a savagery he’d not felt before. There in the darkness beyond the lamppost, Azaiel slaughtered the enemy and showed no mercy. It was the way of it. It was how it had to be.

  And when he was done, sorrow bled through his veins because he knew that in less than a week, she might be on the receiving end of his sword because he would not fail Askelon. He would carry through with his mission.

  He glanced back at Rowan, and she lowered her eyes, but he caught sight of the wariness that colored them.

  And it made him ill. She should be wary. She should be scared out of her mind. He swallowed thickly and moved into the shadows, welcoming the cool, dark caress of it.

  He would do whatever he could to keep her alive, but as the heaviness of the night pressed on him and he felt the magnitude of Mallick’s power he knew it might not be enough.

  It left him empty, angry, and bleak. If he’d not fallen, he might have been a worthy champion. As it was, he just prayed they’d both be strong enough.

  Chapter 28

  “You all right?”

  Rowan glanced up at Hannah and shrugged, moving to the side and allowing her cousin room to sit on the blanket. She had found a patch of grass away from everyone, not far from the oak tree in the front yard.

  It was, however, the day before Samhain, and she was far from “all right.”

  The sword of Gideon had still not shown though Priest had assured her not to worry. Pretty damn hard to do that when Salem was knee deep in demon shit, and the tension amongst her family and friends was so thick, it was choking. They all knew what was coming and were helpless to stop it. Fights had broken out—nothing serious, but still . . . morale was low.

  Most of the dissension involved the volatile twins, Terre and Vicki. Rowan sighed and shook her head. Everyone needed to chill. Or find something to take their minds off the crap spot they found themselves in.

  Her mother had attempted to talk to her several times, but Rowan hadn’t been up for it. Not yet anyway. Though something had changed. Rowan wasn’t quite sure what it was, she knew that the anger and pain she’d carried for so long was starting to dissipate. Was it the fact that her end might be so near? Was she weak to forgive a mother who’d treated her children so callously? Or was it simply human to forgive.

  “I’m great,” she answered, smiling at the snort that fell from Hannah’s lips.

  “You’re so not great.” Hannah bumped her shoulder and sprawled beside her. It was early afternoon, and the sun was unseasonably warm. Indian summer was lingering in this part of the world, giving way to a few nights of rain and cold, and not much else.

  Though the trees had lost the majority of their leaves, the colors of fall were still in abundance, as were the horrid Halloween decorations.

  God, the Halloween decorations. Rowan shuddered. Thanks to Vicki, The Black Cauldron looked as if a Halloween party superstore had vomited all over the property.

  Rowan leaned back and closed her eyes, drinking in as much vitamin D as she could. No sense stressing about it now.

  This could be the last hot sunny day I see.

  “Auntie Marie seems happy.”

  Rowan grunted an answer, not because she begrudged her mother happiness but because there really wasn’t much she cared to say. Marie-Noelle and the gargoyle were inseparable and though at first she’d resisted the idea—hello, a gargoyle?—she’d eventually accepted it.

  If the last few days had taught Rowan anything, it was that second chances needed to be cherished and though there was still a hell of a lot of hurt between her and her mother, Rowan was willing to keep her distance.

  For the moment. She would talk to her before Samhain, but every time she thought about it her belly rolled, and she felt sick. How did you reconcile their damaged relationship in one conversation?

  “So, what’s going on between you and Azaiel?”

  Rowan glanced at her cousin and scowled. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing,” Hannah repeated.

  Rowan straightened up. “That would be correct.”

  “You don’t sound too happy about that.”

  “It is what it is.” Rowan shrugged. “Not that I should be thinking of sex right now.”

  “Sex?” Hannah squealed.

  “Shut up!” Rowan hissed, aware that several of her relatives glanced their way, including Vicki. The witch was dressed in short shorts and a tank top that barely concealed her generous assets.

  In the distance, Kellen tossed a football back and forth with Priest and Nico. Azaiel stood off to the side, alone. He was always alone.

  Hannah followed her gaze, a silly grin on her face as she waved at Nico. The shifter seemed to be having a great time, running and playing catch. But then again, he was a cat.

  “What’s going on between the two of you?” Rowan asked, curious. Hannah had never been the sort to settle for one man. She’d always had a few in the hopper and was a terrible flirt, afraid of commitment and the big R. Relationship.

  Hannah sighed and leaned back. “Nothing.”

  Rowan looked at her sharply, and the two of them burst into laughter. They fell back onto the blanket, and she wasn’t sure when, but at one point her laughter turned to tears. Big fat ones that rolled down her cheeks like wet diamonds. She turned from Hannah, ashamed of her weakness.

  Hell, she didn’t even know why she was crying.

  “Hey.” Hannah’s hand on her shoulder felt good, and eventually the sniffles subsided.

  “I’m sorry,” Rowan exhaled. “I’m just all over the place these days.”

  “We all are, but considering the part you’ll have to play, I think it’s okay for you to be an emotional wreck.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  Hannah got to her feet. “You know what I think?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” Rowan joined her cousin, watching curiously as Kellen had organized a bunch of the hunters and her family members into two groups.

  “I think you need to get laid.”

  “Really,” she answered dryly.

  Kellen said something to Azaiel, and though she was too far from them to hear what was said, she felt his reluctance. The arms crossed over his chest was a dead giveaway. Everything about this posture said “leave me alone.” Kellen tossed the football at Azaiel, and he had no choice but to catch it or deal with a broken nose.

  The men began tossing the ball around, and within minutes several of them were doffing their shirts.

  “Oh goodie, we’re playing football.” All sex talk forgotten, Hannah tugged on her arm. “This is just what we need. Everyone can blow off some steam, and we get to stare at yummy abs! Come on.” Her cousin grinned at her. “Here’s hoping Nico and Azaiel end up on the skins team.” Hannah glanced toward the groups. “Hell, yeah. Nico just doffed his shirt.”

  Rowan took a step forward and paused, for the first time taking in the truly bizarre scene that was unfolding. All of the vehicles had been moved so that an impressive area of grass was open and available. Frank sat on the steps of the gift shop, a mountain of weapons on the ground in front of him. He was cleaning them, making them ready for another night of patrolling.

  Not more th
an a few feet from him, the donkey Leroy did a patrol of his own—slowly traveling a well-worn path around the oak tree and back again.

  On the field the teams were being divvied up. Demon hunters from all over the state were in attendance, as were her family members and of course the otherworlders who’d been here for days. She smiled. Even her aunt Dot was up and ready to play.

  Rowan’s mouth thinned as Vicki doffed her T-shirt and, clad in only a skimpy pink bra and shorts, sauntered over to the “skins” team.

  Which now, she could see, included Azaiel.

  Her heart sped up as she gazed upon his bare chest. Bare abs. Damn, he was wearing the jeans that fell so low they made a woman’s mouth water. How the hell could he play football in that?

  Her feet started forward before she even realized what she was doing and she was halfway to the field when that small, irritating voice inside her head spoke. The one that asked, what the hell are you doing?

  Azaiel glanced up at that moment, and their eyes met across the field. His were intense, and even from this far away she saw they were dark, the gold much diminished. He looked pissed. Irritated. He licked his lips.

  He looked fucking hungry.

  Rowan’s heart was beating madly, and she was flush with heat and desire. She strode toward her brother, deciding it would be more prudent for her to play against Azaiel. All the more chance at contact.

  What was she doing? Rowan smiled at Azaiel and nodded, her gaze not leaving his even when Priest tried to get her attention.

  She was surrounded by a large number of bodies, yet in that moment there was only Azaiel. And the desire that had settled between her legs with a heavy, throbbing weight. She knew it wouldn’t go away, and Lord knew, time was running out.

  She turned and followed Priest into formation.

  She licked her lips as they huddled, not listening to anything Kellen said. Her eyes were focused on Azaiel. On the way the sunlight poured over the hard lines of his body, leaving him bathed in a sheen of sweat.

  What was she doing? She was going to seduce the Seraphim.

  Over the course of the next hour a ragtag group of warriors played a sport that transcended everything. Otherworld and human joined forces, both male and female. Though the only female who was willing to be a “skin” was Vicki. Thank God, she’d at least kept her bra on.