Crimson Storm

by V L Moon

  “Don’t fret, brother.” Warm breath drifted against his cheek as the whispered words revealed the presence of his closest of allies and oldest friend. Clad head to toe in black, Laziel manifested before them. He padded barefoot around the bed to where his daughter slept peacefully against her vampire father’s chest. Without the need of spoken words, Malachi gently eased Destahny into Laziel’s waiting arms. The last living Seraphim engulfed the sleeping form in a wash of celestial light.

  Arial’s throat squeezed shut and his eyes began to sting. Faced with the ancient grace of Laziel’s true self, Arial fell to his knees, crippled by the knowledge of what he’d lost only to be immediately repulsed by the acrid hunger of the curse that had taken its place. Arial’s body jolted upright as the impact of his hunger surged through his veins. His skin started to burn as the need to feed took control.

  “Arial.” Laziel manifested before him and took Arial in his arms. The concern etched on his face was testament to just how bad he must have looked. Demons, whatever their strength, usually failed to make such an impact on his senses no matter how hungry he was. For one to have such a hold on him, it meant a demon of insurmountable strength was showing its true form on Earth. Arial knew of only one other than Lucifer himself that wielded such immense power.

  Warm hands cupped his face. Arial lifted his gaze and met the pearlescent gaze of sorrowful eyes. Laziel’s sadness impaled him as his words speared like a lance through his heart.

  “We all have to face our demons at some point, my friend. Only some of us get to choose whether they’re worth fighting for. In the end, the only thing that matters is whether or not we can live with the consequences of our actions. Choose wisely, Arial. All will be well in the end.”

  Arial’s lashed fluttered closed as the demon’s presence slashed through his flesh like heated steel. Why had he come back? Arial wasn’t ready to face him no matter Laziel’s wise words. He inhaled a breath. Sulfur and lust enflamed his lungs.

  Digging deep, he found the courage to open his eyes. He focused on a dark, empty room. Laziel was gone as was the King and their newborn child. The same couldn’t be said for the rising tide of hunger burning up his insides. The ancient embers of forbidden desire stirred to life. Like a moth to a flame, Arial followed the addictive bouquet of brimstone, sulphur, fire and ash. He drank it down like a fine wine, staggering toward the heady succulent aroma unique to none other than Bastian DeRhys, son of the devil and the reason behind his fall from grace.

  The fact that Arial had once loved him paled into insignificance. After centuries of wandering the Earth, any love or yearning ceased to exist. All that remained in its place were tattered pain filled memories and an incessant sense of loss that never seemed to fade. And now, Rhys was back, hotter than the fires of Hell that bore him and even more demanding and beautiful than Arial cared to remember.

  Anger snaked its way through his veins riding roughshod over the shame that usually burdened his shoulders. Arial snarled in annoyance. He should have given in to his mother’s curse and drained the fucker dry. Maybe, he still would. You keep telling yourself that, one day you just might have the balls to go through with it.

  Arial sighed and fisted his hands inside the pockets of his floor length duster and damn near tripped over his own feet when his fingertips brushed against something soft. A jolt of energy surged through the ragged weight of his ruined wings. The once graceful arcs tingled with life. Arial staggered as warmth spread through his fingertips. His breath hitched. He didn’t want to look, didn’t want to see or be reminded of the beautiful wings he’d lost or the glory of being able to soar above the Heavenly gates of his celestial home.

  Clariel. The wingless Nephilim was so naïve, so pure. He’d most likely slipped the feather into Arial’s coat without his knowledge hoping its presence would bring about some sort of miracle. But, miracles were performed for the worthy. Arial had lost any notion that he’d ever be graced with such a reverent gift. The gross appendages on his back reminded him of that every time he had the misfortune of catching a glimpse of them. Another violent pang of hunger knotted his gut, crippling Arial and dragging him away from his errant train of thought.

  He lifted his head and dragged in the intoxicating aroma of Bastian DeRhys. He was close, closer than Arial liked. His skin burned from the memory of the demon’s touch. Arial could only imagine how addictive his essence would be if he ever dared to feed on the power held within Hell’s most powerful spawn. As the son of Lucifer, Bastian wielded an immense presence, hence Arial’s ability to trace him so easily. Too easily.

  Shadows danced in and around every darkened corner. They hid their real identities by obscuring themselves, flitting through the night as mere wisps of smoke. Arial knew better than to believe what the human eye perceived as mist or steam coming from the vents on the ground. As hard as they tried to evade him, Arial saw through the illusion, tasted the malice in their intent. He sensed the evil within them that sought out new victims to entice into their master’s fiery lair.

  The balance between good and evil was little more than a game, one played out using the human race as pawns. Their gullible nature and greed made it easy to persuade them over to the dark side. Little did they know they were selling their souls to the devil and thereby tipping the scales in Hell’s favor.

  Bastian’s presence on Earth was proof enough to believe dark times were ahead. The fact he hid behind a human mask, a beautiful one at that, irked Arial, darkening his already bleak mood. If Bastian was there to do his father’s bidding, it was up to Arial to stop him and hopefully tip the scales in favor of the just. Fallen or not, he’d rather burn in Hell than allow evil to rule.

  The air around him crackled and the taste of sulphur coated his tongue. Blistering heat threatened to scorch the flesh from his bones. Arial breathed in the acrid scent and groaned as his body reacted to the image taking form before him.

  “Arial,” Bastian purred, fucking purred, as his breath licked over Arial’s face.

  Arial growled. His fists curled at his sides. His heart warred with his mind; yet, he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting over the towering wall of muscle before him. Even after centuries apart, he was compelled, drawn by the magnetic pull toward Bastian and the carnal desire that ignited inside of him. Bastian had been his world, his everything. Losing his wings, losing his celestial heritage had been nothing compared to losing the love and desire that had burned between them.

  He’d taken the fall, lived with the curse inflicted upon him by his archaic mother. Roaming the Earth, he clung to the belief that Bastian would come for him, heal his wounds and once again hold his heart. But, the demon never came. After a few centuries, the heart that had once held the demon’s flame had long turned cold. In its place, bitter disdain and an age old hatred born of longing and loss leaked to the surface and filled Arial with white hot rage.

  Grabbing Bastian and drawing him close, Arial latched his mouth over the full lips that had once kissed him so deeply and drew in a long deadly breath. Bastian roared, taking the form of his demon. Arial didn’t flinch; instead, he fed, dragging out the torturous event like a four course meal. He refused to let go, holding on tight as Rhys lifted him off of his feet. Where there should have been fear or remorse, there was only anger and hurt. As Arial sucked the essence of Hell into himself, he felt a peculiar sense of light drifting through his veins.

  Talons gripped his arms, but did not pierce his skin. Arial was no fool. He knew the power Bastian wielded and could use against him, so why wasn’t he fighting? Slowing the draw and loosening his lips, Arial drew back to look upon the red hued demon holding him in place. He expected ire, fire and wrath, but in its place was a look of shock, bewilderment and a certain degree of pain. Strong hands lowered him to the ground and held him gently in place before trailing a lethal talon slowly along Arial’s jaw. Rhys growled. His skin deepened to a rich crimson. Rage heated his skin, and soft flames danced in his eyes.

  ~*~*~*~r />
  Chapter Twelve

  ~*~*~*~

  Rhys stared down at the angel he’d thought dead. Having the male in his arms rocked his world off of its axis. But, the kiss hadn’t been the kiss he remembered, or one he wanted. Something sinister lurked beneath the contact between them; something that had never been there before.

  “What happened to you? Who did this?” Demands more than questions. Rhys struggled to contain the fury coursing through his veins. He’d felt the transference of power from his lips to Arial. He sensed the demon essence circulating through Arial’s veins. Rhys’ eyes narrowed suspiciously. It hadn’t been punishment enough to separate them and take his wings. Something else had been done to his male.

  “Answer me, damn you. What has your celestial father done to you?”

  Arial sneered at him and shook off his touch. Rhys would not be dissuaded so easily. He’d believed his angelic lover lost to him; believed him dead. Arial would not slip from him again. No one, not his father or Lucifer, would force them apart. Not again.

  Rhys stepped forward, bringing them chest to chest. A thick arm wrapped around Arial’s waist while avoiding the ragged appendages extending from the angel’s back. He jerked Arial off of his feet and back into his arms. Arial’s scent drilled into his senses. The familiar slide of muscled flesh against him fueled his demonic nature. His cock ached. It took supreme effort to ignore the lust spiking through his system.

  “I asked you a question, and I want an answer.”

  “You know the deal,” Arial snarled. “Shit in one, want in the other. I can guarantee which will get full the fastest.”

  Rhys bared his teeth. “Always the smartass when you don’t want to answer. I know you, Arial Nathanial. Tell me.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “I’d much rather fuck you; after you tell me what the fuck is going on.” Rhys studied Arial’s oh so familiar face. The same strong jaw with a hint of stubborn. The full lips that brushed across his skin like silken fire. But, for all of the familiar, there was a difference. Haunted eyes stared back at him with a mixture of anger, hate and…fear.

  Arial had never been scared of him, or anything else. What caused that flicker so deep in those beautiful eyes? If he didn’t want to answer the easy way, Rhys wasn’t above playing dirty. He mimicked Arial’s earlier aggression and brought their mouths together harshly.

  The second time, he was prepared for the shock of Arial’s taste and touch. He concentrated more on the mouth to mouth contact. Arial didn’t move; he didn’t struggle or even breathe. Instead, the angel held his breath. Too bad for Arial, Rhys knew how to make the male respond. His free hand slid over Arial’s leather clad ass. A swift jerk propelled Arial against Rhys’s erection.

  Arial came alive in his arms, fighting against Rhys’ hold. He ripped his mouth free and sucked in air. Shaking hands shoved at Rhys’ shoulders desperate to break his hold. “Not yet, little angel, I want to know your secrets.”

  A fist slammed into his jaw. Rhys stumbled sideways, but maintained his hold on Arial. A wicked laugh rumbled from his chest. “Rough foreplay. So nice of you to remember what I like.” Rhys licked the dark blood oozing from his lip. “Is that what you wanted? My blood? You only had to ask.” Rhys threaded his fingers into Arial’s dreadlocks to hold him still. His mouth crashed down against Arial’s lips. Arial sucked in an involuntary breath and Rhys felt it. A draw on his very soul.

  Arial groaned as the fight drained from him. The hands on his shoulders stopped pushing him away. They slid up over his shoulders and locked around Rhys’ neck. With each of the angel’s inhalations something of Rhys passed his own lips and flowed into Arial. What the fuck?

  Rhys broke the macabre kiss and stared down at Arial. “Tell me.”

  A brilliant flash of energy blinded Rhys. Strong. Heavenly. Pure. Rhys crouched lower to make himself a smaller target while cradling Arial against his chest. If they were going to try and take his angel again, he was fucking going to bring the wrath of Hell down around their ears.

  “Bring it on, motherfuckers. I won’t give him up without a fight.”

  ~*~*~*~

  “Well damn. If I’d known you were putting on a show, I’d have turned up a little earlier.” A petulant smirk tilted the corners of Laziel’s lips. The Seraphim leaned back against the wall and crossed his ankles. His eyes drifted down to where Arial was held against the steaming chest of Satan’s spawn. Anger and confusion clouded the Fallen’s face as he rested against the fiery flesh. Laziel’s heart ached for his brethren. Arial had suffered for so long. He’d fought valiantly, yet needlessly, to prove his loyalty and faith. But he faced the biggest war of all on the inside, the war raging inside his heart.

  “Rhys, didn’t daddy ever teach you it’s rude to play with your food?”

  “And here I was thinking my day couldn’t get any worse,” Rhys snarled.

  Laziel’s smile widened at the demon’s contempt, but he stayed in place. He was no fool. With Bastian in demon form and obviously protecting what he saw as his own, there was no telling what lengths he’d go to in order to keep Arial by his side and safe. However, with dawn chasing their heels, Laziel needed them all off of the streets and out of sight.

  He’d originally followed Arial out of the need to make sure he was safe. After witnessing Arial’s grief and fear in Lachi’s chamber, he’d acted quickly. He’d snagged a vile of vampire blood for the still healing Celix should Arial question him why he was following him. Palming the small vile of blood, Laziel kicked away from the wall and approached the two males. The contrast of their size and coloring was an abstract form of beauty wrapped in a sleeve of love. Arial held no fear of the demon protecting him. The look of peace on his face, the relaxed, almost sated pose of his body stood in stark contrast to Bastian’s heat and ire. He doubted Arial even realized his body’s response to the demon.

  “Arial.” Laziel reached out, ignoring the menacing growl from the hulking demon and offered his fallen friend the small vile of blood.

  “It will be enough to finish Celix’s healing process. Lachi suggested it would be best administered by the doctor…should he care to get his ass in gear and stop acting like a child unwilling to share his new toy.” Laziel’s voice deepened to take on a “don’t fuck with me tone.”

  Seconds passed with Rhys refusing to change. Laziel’s patience thinned. He wanted, needed to be beside Lachi to keep guard over him and Destahny. As if sensing his consternation, Arial moved in Rhys’ arms, turning himself and reaching up to hold the stern featured face in cupped hands. Whispered words drew the demon’s attention down to Arial’s mouth. Arial stilled before closing his eyes and drawing Rhys toward him. The kiss was brief; yet, Laziel could feel the immensity of the fleeting moment. The emotion behind it rocked him to his core.

  Laziel couldn’t imagine the pain Arial had suffered, and still suffered, after being separated from Bastian for as long as he had. The short time he’d been forced to spend away from Lachi had felt like a lifetime. When, in fact, it had been a mere flicker in a timeline that spanned eternity. Yet, the pain of that separation had opened a chasm of damage between them. How Arial coped with it as well as the curse was indisputably part of what made him such a worthy and admirable ally and friend.

  Warm fingers brushed against his own. “I’ll see to it that Celix gets this and anything else he needs to complete his healing.” There was no thank you just a simple nod of the head. But, the depth of awareness in the good doctor’s eyes told Laziel that the demon had been contained, for the moment.

  “It’s not as easy as you think. But he…” Bastian’s eyes shifted to where Arial stood struggling with himself and the feelings consuming him. “For him, I’d bring down the gates of Hell.”

  Stunned by Bastian’s declaration, Laziel was left standing alone in the first wash of dawn’s light. Something was happening. The ranks of their enemies were growing out of proportion while the power of their allies shifted to an all new level. War was dra
wing closer, and the closer it came, the more the scales shifted in their favor.

  ~*~*~*~

  Chapter Thirteen

  ~*~*~*~

  Thunder Bay, Ontario

  After changing into the club uniform of leather pants and matching form fitting leather vest, Shaver swung by the bar and picked up the round, black drink tray. Weaving through the milling crowd of The Den, he picked up empties and took orders. All the while, his eyes scanned the dancers and other staff.

  Damian worked behind the bar, a smile on his handsome face as he tossed bottles and filled drinks with an easy confidence Shaver envied. Alexa had disappeared into the dressing rooms presumably to check on the night's dancers, but most likely looking for her favored partner. Shaver's eyes continued to roam searching for Khad. It was the other wolf’s night off, but Shaver knew he hadn't retired to the living quarters on the second floor.

  After the wild game of hide and seek on the island, Khadlyn would be energized and on the prowl. And, as Jake pointed out, the full moon loomed close. Shaver felt the pull on his own body and hastened to tamp it down. The tight leather stretched snugly across his hips would display his arousal all too clearly if he allowed the beast inside of him the freedom to stretch.

  Resolutely, Shaver worked the room. Occasionally, a roaming hand groped his ass. Several blatant invitations were murmured into his ear along with beverage orders. Shaver welcomed the sultry darkness of the club. It hid the blush that stained his cheeks when the overtures became too lascivious for his comfort. Wolves, very sensual by nature, reveled in the tactile. Shaver shared the love of touch, but unlike most wolves, he preferred to limit such intimacies to only a few. He was comfortable with his pack mates; others threw him off kilter. Working at Iniquity forced him to face his aversion.