“And you’re willing to die for him.”
“Or her.” She smirked and met his cold, colder than the Arctic sea, eyes. The rims had shrunk to microscopic rings.
“There are no female UnHallowed.” One lip curled. The crimson rims widened around his eyes. “His name, Amaya.”
She leaned away and gripped the edge of the chair. “What will you do to him if I tell you? Kill him?”
“I don’t kill my kind, unlike humans.”
“Why? You all deserve to die.”
“Who are you to judge?” he snapped.
“I have every right to judge you. You, cast out from Heaven. You, who crawled out of Hell. You, who are no better than Darklings. You, who had the greatest gift of all and threw it away!” She had one more knife inside her boot. If she could reach it.
He sat back on his haunches. His face passive, almost relaxed. His eyes clear of any red. “Is that what he told you? Whoever this UnHallowed is, that’s the story he imparted?”
“I never said it was an UnHallowed.”
He stood and paced the length of the room. His fingers threaded through his hair, straightening the mess into an artful disarray you’d expect from some fancy salon. He stopped, pivoted, and came at her fast.
Bane gripped the arms of the chair, trapping her body and worse, her hands. “The next word out of your mouth will be his name, Amaya, clerk at the DMV.” The red rim had returned.
“No.”
Shadows formed at the corners of the room. They reached forward and crashed back against each other. They frothed, liked the tide meeting a rocky shore, then retracted like a gathering tsunami.
“Tell me who he is!” he shouted into her face, his eyes full red, all traces of civility gone. This was the demon she trained to defeat.
“No!” she screamed just as ferocious.
They were on their feet at the same time, staring each other down. Amaya kicked the chair away and darted back a few feet to give herself room to maneuver. Settled into an attack stance, her knife—freed from her boot—was poised to throw. Bane faced her as if she was a speck blocking his view. Bastard actually had a grin on his face.
“Are you going to use that blade or just point it at me?”
She aimed for his chest, let it fly—and watched the shadows reach out and swallow it.
No weapons left, Amaya rushed forward and clocked him, hard as she could. The cracking sound came from her knuckles, not his jaw, though he did wobble.
She shook off the pain and darted for the door. The shadows cut her off and raced for her. She stumbled back and into a hard chest. He spun her, grabbed her biceps, raised her, and brought her face level to his. The air crackled around them, fueled by the violence pumping through their hearts.
I have a heart. He, he has nothing in that chest of his.
He seemed confused, his gaze darting all over her face. His chest billowed as if he’d run a race, but then so did hers. Held in the air slightly above him, she gripped his forearms. Muscles bulged beneath her hands, yet he wasn’t straining to keep her aloft. None of this was difficult for him, so why was he panting? Why was she?
He brought her closer, his gaze focused on her lips. Her heart banged against her ribs, wanting to be free. She wanted to be free, yet she gripped him tighter, her fingers curled into his leather coat, anchoring them both to the spot.
She inched closer. Now all she could see was his eyes. Hypnotic, aquamarine, crimson-rimmed, predatory eyes. His lips parted. She waited for him to speak, instead he breathed, swallowed, and brought her even closer.
She trembled. Heat flowed beneath her skin. A bead of sweat trickled between her breasts, making her aware of her nipples and a distinct ache down below. This wasn’t happening. Couldn’t happen.
A breath away from his lips touching hers she whispered, “Don’t.”
He didn’t. Instead of her lips, he grazed his cheek along hers and then dipped his head to her neck. He breathed her in and shuddered. “You’re afraid.”
Yes. No… Depended on what he referred to. Of fighting him, killing him. No. Of whatever the fuck this was that sprung up between them, hell yes. Is that what turned him on? Her fear?
“I will not hurt you, unless you want it to hurt.” He pulled back and looked at her with clear eyes.
It struck her then how enthralling he was. How easy it would be to submit to the evil. “You should be worried about me hurting you.”
A half smile raised the right side of his lips. The same smile he gave when they’d first met. Kill you or kiss you? For the first time, she realized she was out of her depth. This was the deep end of the pool and she didn’t know how to swim.
“I know a thing or two, or three, about pain.” He set her on her feet and with one hand, he captured her wrists. With the other, he captured her chin. His head dipped to hers. Breath trapped in her lungs, she braced for impact.
He stopped.
Sunlight spilled into the room. Bane released her and surprised Amaya by stepping in front of her, instead of streaking for the shadows to protect his ass from frying. As if she needed his protection, but if he decided to guard her in lieu of getting those lips of his anywhere near her, then she’d count that as a plus.
Amaya peered around him and had to shield her eyes from the glare. She couldn’t see anything, even with the light spilling into the room. When the light faded, Michael stood in the space. He glared at them, a frown creasing his brow as she stepped from the shelter of Bane’s body. “It is noon. I am on time. I see you two have met.”
Amaya’s gaze whipped between Michael and Bane, as Bane’s gaze whipped between her and Michael. Bane’s shock and anger were a mirror of her own.
“You know her?” Bane said to Michael.
“You know him?” she said to Michael.
8
Of course Michael personally knew this UnHallowed. They had shared Heaven, way, way, way back in the dinosaur era, Amaya rationalized. But the way Michael said, I see you two have met, made it seem as if he and Bane were frat brothers. Like they met every Friday night after a long day of work to drink beer and chase women—friends, not mortal enemies.
That scenario was fucking impossible.
The weight of Bane’s stare forced her to look at him. There were questions in his red-rimmed eyes, but she had questions of her own.
“Is he the one you’re protecting?” he asked her.
Amaya sealed her lips. For better or worse, her loyalty remained with Michael.
Bane snorted. “Never play poker.” His gaze shifted to Michael.
Expression hard, Michael stepped forward. “What is going on here?”
By his relaxed stance, Bane didn’t seem worried. “Why are we here, Michael? Spit it out so I can leave.”
The archangel’s gaze narrowed on both of them. Silence stretched for an awkward moment. “The Cruor is here, on this property and it needs guarding.”
“What is a Cruor?” she asked.
“It’s the portal to Hell,” Bane answered without breaking eye contact with Michael. “And it’s closed. So, what does it matter if the Cruor is here or not?
Amaya was still tripping over the portal to Hell being within walking distance. She had to keep up with the conversation.
“Though closed, it’s not secure,” Michael said.
“That doesn’t sound good,” Amaya murmured.
“Explain.” Bane’s acerbic tone would’ve melted a lesser being.
Michael’s gaze shifted back to her. “I caught the scent of a Spaun on the property.”
Bane let loose with a string of curses. Judging by his reaction, whatever a Spaun was, it was level ten bad. Damn, she hated being in the dark on the brink of an apocalypse. What the fuck was all her training for if she didn’t know the important shit when she needed it most? Furthermore, what was the point in keeping her oblivious to all the dangers she’d face? She glared at Michael, blaming him, only because Braile wasn’t there to share the blame, but if she eve
r laid eyes on him again… “Someone explain what the hell a Spaun is.”
“How long ago did you catch his scent?” Bane said to Michael.
“Recent.”
Another string of curses left Bane.
I’m gonna ask one more time, then I’m hitting someone. “What is a Spaun?”
“It’s a demon, one of a higher class that escaped when the UnHallowed were freed.” Bane moved to the nearest window and peered out of a slit. He hissed and shifted away, a red scorch marred his cheek.
“Now, you understand the gravity of the situation,” Michael said to Bane, and then both their gazes settled on her.
“What?” She backed up, uneasy under their weighted glares.
“The Cruor has to be guarded twenty-four hours a day. Though, it seems it has survived for months without any type of protection.” Bane glared at Michael.
“What does that have to do with me?” She pointed a finger at herself.
Bane pointed at his fading burn. “I don’t tan in the sun, sweetheart.”
“Not my problem, sweetheart.” Was that a grin on his smug face?
“Oh yes, it is your problem, because you’re stuck here with me.” His feral grin widened.
“The hell I am. Get some of your UnHallowed buddies to help you out because I won’t,” she gritted out between clenched teeth.
“You and Bane are the only two I trust for this assignment, Amaya,” Michael said.
I’m not falling for this load of bull. Amaya whipped around and gave a firm shake of her head. Michael couldn’t show up years later, toss out the trust card, and expect her to lap it up. Like she used to. So eager to please him and Braile, she’d done everything they asked. She trained harder, focused longer, sacrificed whatever got in the way of being the weapon they needed her to be, all for the two she trusted most in the world to keep her in the dark. The Cruor, the Spaun, the Darklings, what else didn’t she know? Worse, what else hadn’t she bothered to investigate because she’d placed her trust in the wrong place?
She lost friends and lovers over her dedication to perfection. She’d trained to kill Darklings and UnHallowed, and now Michael wanted her to work with one of them? No. The stakes were high, but not high enough for collaboration with the enemy. On a planet with seven billion people, there had to be someone else.
Amaya walked around the two beings and stormed out of the house. She made it into the tall grass when Michael blocked her path. Panting, she skidded to a halt and shouted, “Get out of my way!”
“Amaya,” he started in that oh so reasonable voice of his.
“I said no, Michael. You can’t ask this of me.” She jabbed a finger at him.
“Yet, I am more than asking you. This is what you have trained—”
“I trained to kill those bastards. Not work with them.”
“You were trained to kill Darklings and ordered to stay away from UnHallowed.”
Now he wanted to nitpick? Fine! “You and Braile drilled into my head that I had to stay away from the UnHallowed because I wasn’t ready. They were monstrous, lecherous, corrupt beings that would show no mercy. They would kill me the second they laid eyes on me.” Instead, Bane almost kissed her. Almost. “You and Braile implied when I was ready, I would have free rein to kill UnHallowed. Now that I’m more than ready to skewer the bastards, you show up and say, ‘Hey! My bad. It’s cool to partner up with them.’ Nope. Not happening.” She moved around him and nearly made it to her car when three words stopped her.
“I need you.”
The Archangel Michael, Seraph to the Throne, needed her. Well, she didn’t need him. Proved how much she didn’t need him by surviving the last six years without him.
He came up behind her. “You are the only person in this world I trust. There is no one else.”
Her insides melted, though she’d never let him know how much his words resonated with her heart. She was tempted to ask, Does Braile trust me also? but she suspected the answer was no, otherwise he would be here instead of Michael. She hiked her thumb at the house. “What about the UnHallowed? You said you trusted him too.”
“He is a means to an end, though, in this I do trust him. Nevertheless, my faith resides in you, Amaya. And you are correct, you have trained for this.”
His praise curled around the knot in her stomach. “I have a life, Michael. I have a job.”
“All your needs will be provided.”
That could mean anything from her tilling the land to living in Oprah style luxury. One thing was certain, there was nothing luxurious about the house behind her.
Realizing what her answer had to be, Amaya sighed. “I will arrive at sunrise and leave the second the sun sets. I don’t want that UnHallowed in my presence. We have no reason to speak to each other!” she bellowed for Bane to hear. “I’ll start tomorrow.” Michael opened his mouth and she cut him off. “Tomorrow isn’t negotiable. You got your way. Now leave well enough alone.”
Amaya marched the rest of the way to her car, got in, and slammed the door. She cranked the engine and stomped on the gas. Pebbles pinged the undercarriage as she peeled away from the house. Laughter reached her, whether Bane’s or Michael’s, she couldn’t tell.
9
Amaya rolled up to the farmhouse as sunlight touched the sky. Eighteen hours ago, the course of her life took a dramatic shift. She went home, quit her job, and had a six pack of beer. As she drowned her sorrows, she checked her bank account. One hundred and fifty-seven dollars. She had a partial check due from her former job, but the first of the month was next week. Along with her rent, light and gas, cable, and cell phone were all due. Plus, she liked to have three meals a day. Michael’s idea of providing for her had better include cash.
She spent the rest of the day brooding and sleeping. As soon as the sun set, she went hunting, and came up with zip. Damn it, she needed to kill something before the night was over, before she had to show up to her new job.
Amaya climbed out of the car and grabbed the bag of groceries she'd purchased from an all-night supermarket. UnHallowed didn’t need to eat, so she bought everything she liked, and she didn’t plan on sharing.
The tall grass would have to go, though she was getting a workout trudging through it. Godzilla could hide in it and they’d never know. There were a few thickets of trees and brush that were probably okay. She wondered if she would have to get approval for any changes from Michael or Bane. She would suggest it to both and let them hash it out.
Her gaze turned to the house. It was June. Fourteen hours of sunlight in a dilapidated house with no air conditioning. Uggh! She pulled out her phone and was thankful to see she had a few bars. At least she could kill some time watching Netflix.
“Enough stalling,” she mumbled and pushed on. It took all night to come up with a game plan and she was gonna stick to it. If Bane was there, in the house, then she’d spend her time outside in the sun where he couldn’t go. Childish? Maybe. But certainly effective.
The porch creaked under her feet, announcing her presence, as if he didn’t already know she was there. A fortifying breath steadied her nerves, then she pushed open the door. The small foyer wasn’t dark, but softly lit from a wall sconce she hadn’t noticed yesterday. A few steps further and she peered into a furnished living room that had been bare fourteen hours ago. The sofa and loveseat were old, something you’d see in a photoshoot from the seventies. Across the hall in the formal dining room was a white Formica dining set from the same period.
None of the furniture was here yesterday. She couldn’t imagine either being doing this so, who went on a shopping spree and picked out this crap?
She moved to the kitchen. She hadn’t made it that far into the house yesterday, so she didn’t know if the green toaster and refrigerator were new, though they looked pre-war. She placed her grocery bag on the counter and noticed a manila folder with her name typed across the front.
An old-fashioned bank deposit book fell out first. It was in her mother’s maiden na
me. “Holy crap!” If the numbers inside were correct, her mother was loaded. There was another envelope inside the folder. She opened it to find statements from a brokerage firm. And a will. Her mother had purchased ten thousand dollars’ worth of stock from Walmart in 1975. As the only child of Karen Prince, all of it belonged to Amaya.
“Shit.” This had to be Michael’s idea of taking care of her. Her paternal grandparents raised her on a strict budget until she moved out right after she got her GED at seventeen. They couldn’t have known about this money. She wished they had. It would have eased their burden.
Her birth certificate slid out of the envelope next, followed by the deed to the house and surrounding land in her name and—Bane’s. Bane McIntosh.
Damn it! Why? Why do I have to share my home with an UnHallowed? Worry about it later. Now, she had shit to do.
“I have a home and enough money to not have to worry about how to pay for it.” She sat at the oval breakfast table with its scarred surface, wishing she’d splurged on the McDonalds breakfast. Amaya shoved the documents back into the envelope and stuck the lunchmeat, bread, a couple of packets of mayonnaise and mustard, and a half gallon of milk that she brought to last the day into the refrigerator.
The bank had a local branch. That would be her first stop. Everything else could wait, had to wait, because protecting the Cruor had to come first. But right now, she wanted to finish investigating her new home.
Giddy, she climbed the back staircase to the second floor. There were five bedrooms of a decent size, all empty except the master bedroom, where she found a full-sized brass bed. The sheets looked clean along with the room. The others had a thick layer of dust, but this one was dust free, including the tiny bathroom.
The hairs on the back of her neck rose. She wasn’t alone.
Amaya spun, to find no one was there.
Yeah. Right.
She went back downstairs, peered into every room and opened every door. She found the hidden staircase in the dark root cellar and followed it down into the cool earth where sunlight couldn’t reach. Wall sconces lined a short tunnel that angled deeper into the ground. She dragged her hand along the surface of the smooth walls, wondering when it had been constructed because it seemed new.
Only One I Want (UnHallowed Series Book 2) Page 5