“How many?” He felt her twist, knew she was looking back.
“Just three.”
He liked the way she said that. Just three. Like three Hell’s angels were nothing for them. They could handle such a paltry number.
He could, but with Erin around, he would be distracted, concerned that she might end up dragged into the fight somehow and injured.
“Veiron... they’re flying.”
That was just cheating.
Two could play at that game.
Veiron stopped, pulled Erin around so she was against his front, and started running again.
His wings burst from his back, he ran up the back of a parked car, boots denting the trunk and roof, and launched himself into the air.
Erin gasped.
Cold night air swept through his crimson feathers as he beat his wings, carrying them higher into the alley.
“You have wings. How do you have wings? You said you didn’t have wings!”
“No, you thought I didn’t have wings.” Veiron flapped them harder. Stay red. Please stay red. When his mood was degenerating as rapidly into anger and violence as it was now, it was normally impossible to keep the feathers on his wings. “This really isn’t the time for this argument.”
Erin mercifully remained quiet.
Veiron’s red gaze darted around, searching for the right direction. If he could get Erin to Taylor’s, he might be able to set her down and tell her to ring the bell and ask Wingless for help while he drew the Hell’s angels away.
He spotted the small square near Taylor and Wingless’s home and shot towards it. The enemy were gaining on him.
“How close?” he said over the noise of the wind.
Erin shivered against him, her body freezing under his hands. “Too close. They’re practically on us.”
“Fuck.” Veiron dived, heading back to street level, and beat his wings, desperate to put some distance between them and their pursuers. Erin tensed in his arms and buried her face against his throat. He levelled off but didn’t slow down. “Listen. I’m going to put you down and draw them away.”
“No.” She threw her arms around his neck and locked her legs around his hips. “No. I don’t want you to ditch me.”
“Stubborn,” he growled and tried to prise her off him but she did the most marvellous impression of a limpet he had ever seen. He couldn’t shift her without using more of his strength and he wouldn’t risk hurting her by doing so. “Fine. Change of plans. I’ll set us both down. You hide behind one of the parked cars on the street and I’ll fight the bad guys.”
“Liar.” She snarled the word at him. “You’re going to ditch me.”
He was. He didn’t have time to argue about it either.
Veiron hit the ground running, furled his crimson wings against his back, and peeled her off him. She tried to hold on but relented when she looked over his shoulder. They were closer now. He could feel them.
Her feet hit the pavement next to a parked black four-wheel-drive vehicle. It was tall enough to conceal her while he fought their three enemies. Erin reached over behind her with both hands and tried to pull the sword out of the scabbard.
“What are you doing?” he said and she grunted, her face screwing up in frustration. She managed to get the sword up several inches but then a flaw in her plan showed itself. Her arms weren’t long enough to draw the sword.
“You need this so you can fight.”
Veiron smiled, drew the sword for her, and handed it to her. She frowned at it and then up into his eyes.
“A mortal sword will be of no use to me in this fight... and I have already revealed myself to them. I might as well use a weapon I favour.” He held his right hand out beside him and a black staff materialised in his hand.
Red patterns decorated the short black rod and red curved blades appeared at each end. The staff itself was only the length of his forearm as it was now, the blades equally as long, but he could increase the length of the rod if he needed more room in the fight.
“Stay here.” Veiron touched her dirty cheek. She didn’t look at him. She was staring at his hand and the spear he grasped as though he had just performed the most amazing magic trick.
Hey presto.
She should see some of the other things he could do.
Veiron beat his wings and flew over the square.
The Hell’s angels appeared and split up as soon as they spotted him, one diving off to his left, the second to his right, and the third heading straight for him.
All three of them were in their true form, making them larger than he was, huge black-skinned beasts with dragon-like wings. The yellow streetlamps reflected off their obsidian armour, draining the colour from the scarlet edging on their breastplates, greaves and the vambraces that protected their forearms.
He wished he could call his own armour but Erin was watching him from the shadow of the Range Rover and if she saw his armour, she would realise that he was like these creatures.
Veiron held the short staff of his double-ended spear in both hands and slashed at the first demonic angel as he lunged at Veiron with his black sword. Veiron knocked the blade aside and snarled as he sliced across the angel’s thick black arm. The angel roared at him and attacked again, quicker this time, and Veiron struggled to counter each strike that drove him backwards through the air. His senses blared a second before a blade cut down his back, narrowly missing his wings.
He cried out and Erin shouted his name.
Foolish woman.
One of the angels turned her way and zipped towards her.
Like hell Veiron was letting him near her.
Veiron beat his wings and shot after the demonic angel, the cold air buffeting him. He extended the staff of his weapon and swung with it, catching the man hard in the waist and sending him careening through the air. The angel crashed into a parked car up the street, the sound of the impact echoing around the Georgian townhouses lining the square and the shockwave sending the alarm of every vehicle in the area shrieking.
Veiron hit the pavement, took two strides, and grabbed Erin around her waist. She gasped and he kicked off, shooting into the air again with a single strong flap of his crimson wings.
The sword fell from her hands and hit the pavement with a clang.
Veiron scoured the area for a safe place for her. The two conscious angels chased him, their leathery wings creating eerie noises amongst the wailing car alarms. There was another square up ahead. The one he had hoped to reach without incident. He couldn’t fight there. It was too close to where he wanted to take Erin once they had lost their tail.
They needed somewhere else.
Veiron held his hand out in front of him and a bright fiery portal appeared. He shot through it, holding Erin close to his chest, and came out near the broad black swath of the River Thames.
He set Erin down on the pavement under a pedestrian bridge next to the river.
“Stay in the shadows.” Veiron went to leave and then came back to her. He laid his hand on her cheek, feeling her shaking, and looked deep into her eyes. “Don’t hate me.”
Before she could ask why, he ran a few paces and took off again, using his wings to carry himself high into the air where she hopefully wouldn’t see what he was about to become.
He couldn’t fight the demonic angels off as he was. His true appearance unleashed his full strength and power. He needed that if he was going to protect Erin.
The first demonic angel appeared through a vicious orange streak in the sky, scanned the darkness, and spotted him. The second tore a rip in the world a few hundred yards further away. Just the two of them.
Maybe he wouldn’t need to go nuclear after all.
Veiron beat his scarlet wings and caught the second angel unawares, cutting him across the neck and then following through by twisting his double-ended blade and slicing down his back. The blade caught the male’s left wing, tearing through the leathery membrane, and he shrieked and plummeted into the river
. A bright orange glow lit the water as it boiled, telling Veiron that the angel had returned to Hell to heal.
That left him with one.
Veiron grinned and turned to face the remaining demonic angel.
Erin screamed.
CHAPTER 9
Veiron’s gaze snapped down and his heart stilled, sharp claws squeezing it tightly. The angel he had tossed into the car was back and had Erin in a chokehold from behind. She yanked on his thick arm with both of her hands, gasping for air, her amber eyes wild with panic and fear that Veiron could feel in his blood. The large black demonic man clawed across her arm and chest, cutting deep into her flesh.
Veiron saw red.
He flung his arms back and roared. His skin darkened to black and his form changed, limbs growing and muscles expanding. The red dripped from his wings, revealing black feathers beneath that fell away in clumps, exposing the leathery membrane of his real wings.
Obsidian armour appeared on his huge body, encasing his chest and back at first. His black loincloth followed next, replacing his ruined jeans. His boots disappeared and black and red ones took their place. His greaves appeared, the crimson-edged jet plates protecting his shins. Finally, his vambraces melted into existence on his forearms.
The blades of his spear glowed red.
Veiron launched forwards, grasped his blade with both hands, and attacked the angel nearest to him. He dodged the strike of the man’s black sword, shoved one blade into his stomach, and flipped himself over his back. The red-hot blade of Veiron’s spear sliced out of the angel’s gut and Veiron landed on his wings. The Hell’s angel dropped from the sky with Veiron on his back. Veiron snarled and plunged the other blade of his spear through the man’s back, and then kicked off, leaving him to hit the pavement with such force that it formed a crater and a plume of dust rose into the air.
He snarled and shot towards the angel still attacking Erin. The smell of her blood assaulted his senses and he lost control.
Veiron landed hard, shaking the ground, sprinted at the angel and punched straight through the back plate of his obsidian armour. The man shrieked and released Erin. She dropped to the floor in a heap.
Veiron lifted the man, his hand closing around his spine, and slammed him hard into the wall of the bridge. He smashed him against it again, causing shards of brick and dust to rain down on the pavement, and then again. The angel struggled and writhed, clawing at him and trying to beat him away with his wings.
One of them struck Veiron in the face, cutting across his cheek. He growled, grabbed the leathery wing, and snapped it.
The demonic angel’s shrieks annoyed him so Veiron closed his hand over the man’s mouth, suffocating him at the same time. His struggling slowed and Veiron grinned as the man began to change back into his human form.
Veiron snarled. “Give God my regards.”
He snapped the man’s neck.
His red gaze fell to Erin.
Her eyes were on him.
Veiron dropped the body and shook the blood from his hands. White light burst against the darkness and disappeared just as quickly, leaving no trace of the man behind. He would be back in Heaven by now, being reborn as an angel.
Veiron’s skin paled again, muscles shrinking and body returning to his normal appearance. His armour disappeared and he called his jeans to him and his boots. He called his leather jacket too. Erin would need it to keep her warm.
“Erin?” he whispered and her eyelids drooped.
She struggled to open them again.
He crouched beside her where she lay on the pavement. A torrent of crimson flowed from the deep wounds across her chest. His stomach turned and he used his powers to produce crepe bandages out of the air. He bent over her, carefully raised her off the ground and set one end of the roll of bandage against her back. She moaned and twitched as he tightly wrapped the bandage over her shoulder and across her chest. It turned red each time it passed over the wound, blood instantly soaking through the pale cream material. She was losing too much but it was all he could do and he could only hope it would stem the bleeding enough to buy her and himself enough time.
She groaned and grimaced, her blood-streaked face contorting in pain he could feel flowing through him.
“I’m sorry. I need to make sure it’s tight.” He kept his voice low and soothing. Her brow crinkled and her whole body tensed in spasm. He paused and stroked her cheek with one trembling hand, trying to relax her so he could finish tending to her wound. She slumped again and her breathing slowed. Veiron growled. “You stay with me... you hear me, Erin?”
She didn’t respond. He quickly finished bandaging her wound, laid her down and pressed one hand against the wad of material over her chest, applying as much pressure as he could without breaking her ribs.
“Erin?” He patted her bloodstained cheek. “Wake up. Don’t go to sleep. Don’t leave me.”
She murmured something and relief beat through his blood. He had to get her to Wingless and fast. Taylor’s angel lover was fallen but he still had the power to heal.
Veiron carefully slipped his beaten up leather on Erin’s small frame and picked her up. He focused so his leathery wings shrank into his back and called a portal. He couldn’t use it to go to Taylor’s house but he could exit somewhere close to it. He stepped through it and out into the square where he had tossed the angel into a car. The alarms were silent now but there were people out on the street. Not the sort of audience he needed when he was carrying a bleeding woman.
“Stay with me, Erin,” he whispered to her and her head lolled backwards. He jostled her carefully so she was more comfortable. “You hear me? You fight. Don’t you dare give up.”
She mumbled again, a welcome sign that she was still with him. He called another portal and then let it disappear. Hopefully the angels the Devil sent to track him would think he had gone through it.
He crossed the street and stuck to the shadows as he walked swiftly towards the next street. He couldn’t run when Erin was injured. He stared down at her, gaze constantly on her ashen bloodied face. His heart pounded in his ears. His own injuries stung but he ignored them, focusing everything on her. He wasn’t important. She was.
She had to be all right.
He carried on at a brisk pace through the next square and then along another elegant street full of Georgian townhouses. They towered over him, three storeys above ground and one below. Expensive cars lined the streets outside them, marking the affluence of the neighbourhood his ex-lover had chosen as her new home.
Veiron shoved the black wrought iron gate on one of the townhouses open and carried Erin along the path to the porch. He took the stone steps up to the wide black door and knocked with his foot. Loudly.
His eyes darted back down to Erin, monitoring her for a sign that he was losing her.
“Keep fighting, Sweetheart,” he whispered and held her closer.
She was tougher than his spinning mind gave her credit for. She had to be. The smell of her blood choked him. He could feel it on his hands and hear it dripping down her back. He had probably left a trail to Taylor’s house but he didn’t care anymore.
He kicked the door again and growled.
They had to be in.
He clutched Erin to him, hating how fragile and pale she looked in his arms.
A light finally appeared through the stained glass on either side of the large black door. It swung open.
Taylor stood before him, dressed in her favourite black jeans, heeled boots and t-shirt combo, her sleek black hair tied in a ponytail and her blue eyes conveying her annoyance.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she snapped, shoved one hand against her hip and cocked her head to one side.
“I don’t have time for this. Tear me a new one some other time.” He tried to get past her and she stepped into his path, blocking his attempt. His eyes blazed red. “She’s going to die.”
Taylor looked down and her blue eyes widened.
Wingles
s, known to everyone other than Veiron and Villandry as Einar, appeared behind her, his broad frame almost filling the doorway and obscuring the foyer behind him. The tawny-haired male’s rich brown eyes locked with Veiron’s briefly before falling to Erin and narrowing. He touched Taylor’s shoulder and she moved aside but not enough that Veiron could enter with Erin. Veiron growled at her.
“We need to get her upstairs.” Einar herded Taylor out of the way so Veiron could pass her. He was grateful to the fallen angel and ignored Taylor’s glare. If she had tried to turn him away, he wasn’t sure what he would have done, but it would have been ugly. Erin’s life depended on Einar now. Veiron didn’t know anyone else who had the power to heal such savage wounds.
Veiron followed Einar across the marble foyer and up the elegant wooden rectangular staircase, taking care as he turned each corner so he didn’t bang Erin’s head. Einar looked over his broad black-clad shoulders at Erin, his brown eyes awash with concern.
“She is mortal,” he said and Veiron nodded, knowing all too well what that meant now. Such an injury wouldn’t be a problem for his kind but it was deadly to her.
They reached a floor with a large living room. Oil paintings hung on the deep red walls and dark antique furniture cluttered it despite the expansive size. Masses of weaponry occupied a large oak table and one of the sofas.
“Set her down here.” Einar arranged some pillows at the end of an empty couch, close to the roaring fire. Veiron carefully carried Erin across the room and gently laid her down. He cleared the black hair from her face and frowned at how pale she looked despite the warm glow from the fire.
She had to be all right. She couldn’t die. He wouldn’t let her.
“Just you keep fighting, you hear me?” he whispered, gaze darting around her face for a sign that she had. Her brow puckered and then relaxed. Veiron stroked her cheek, unable to deny his need to touch her and feel she was solid, alive, still with him.
Einar squeezed his shoulder. “I will need room to work.”
Veiron nodded and reluctantly left her side.
He stepped back, giving Wingless the room he needed to perform what would be a miracle. Erin had to live.
Her Demonic Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 5) Page 9