Personal Warriors: Book 3 in the Personal Demons series

by Rachel A. Collett

  She shrugged. “They’re only mortals with special abilities. That’s all. Just like most everyone here. They’re witches or warlocks when they join themselves to a coven and give themselves that distinctive label, or when the outside world identifies them as such. If you were not one of the Three and had been found by one of their members, you could’ve become a witch. They are self-proclaimed, self-branded.”

  “But why would they want to do that?” I asked, confused. Throughout history, witches had been held in disdain. Misunderstood, mistrusted, and socially awkward. I couldn’t see why anyone would want to become associated with such a name.

  Fiona regarded me sadly. “I didn’t intend it to be such a negative title. I told you once that it was my fault so many witches were killed. That was true. I took it upon myself to gather together those that wanted to strengthen their God-given abilities. We grouped them into small clusters, or covens, to learn their gifts and to see if they could further develop them. At first it was wonderful. Working together for the benefit of humanity... It was beautiful. But we learned quickly that not all mortals do well with so much power.

  “My very first student was named Fanny. Frances actually, but she preferred Fanny. Like me, she had the ability to heal—”

  “But to a far lesser extent.” Pride glowed in Cedric’s expression as he eyed his mate.

  Fiona blushed, but continued. “Out from the public eye, from persecution, she could thrive and use her gifts without shame. She was eager to help those brave enough to seek her, but as time went on, she grew frustrated. Unwilling to accept that her powers had limits, she became angry that she couldn’t grow past what she soon deemed mediocre. She asked me to petition God to grant her more power, more strength. I did, but I received an immediate negative answer.”

  “From God? He spoke to you?”

  “Why so surprised?” Laith asked, his leg draped over the arm of the couch. “We don’t only offer destinies, Ava. We’re also messengers.”

  “That’s right. But Fanny didn’t like being told no. She set out on her own and took with her as many as would follow, as many as wanted greater strength. It tumbled down the proverbial hill from there.”

  “How so?”

  “Demons can offer mortals greater strength, more power. Through the Destroyer,” Cedric said.

  “But why would they?”

  Jonathan cleared his throat. Annoyance rang in his tone. “Because the Destroyer would grant it without hesitation. More power. All that they desire. Gifts from the Destroyer don’t have to be worked so hard for and are much more intriguing.” He gave me a wicked grin, pausing for dramatic effect. “What the mortal doesn’t know is that the power comes from a Fallen. The more they use it, the more we can control them, until there’s no room inside their soul for both of us to exist.”

  A few hours later, I sat on my bed, leaning against the headboard pretending to read as Darius showered in my bathroom. It was past midnight. Jonathan had been escorted from the sanctuary and everyone except the evening security team left the meeting to rest. Mentally I was drained, and physically I should have been exhausted... but I wasn’t.

  The matching white tank top and bottoms I selected were some of my favorite pajamas, but now they felt too revealing, the shorts way too short. I felt exposed. I pulled my blankets a little higher around my waist.

  The afternoon kept replaying over and over again in my mind. Several key points continually resurfaced. The first was my deep frustration at being almost bested at grappling by Roman. If my father were alive and had seen such a near defeat, he would never have let me leave the lake until satisfied I would improve. In a lot of ways, he had been a bully, but now knowing what I did, I was grateful. And now Darius would see to my further grappling training.

  My face burned and my body tingled at the thought, which brought me to the other point. Darius.

  “This conversation is far from over.”

  My heart leaped within my chest when the squeak of a shower faucet drowned out the flustering thoughts. The water turned off, bathing the room in a threatening silence. My gut plagued me with overexcited butterflies.

  Maybe he was too tired to talk. Maybe he’d forget all about what I had said.

  The shower door clicked open. Being the adult that I was, I threw the book to the side, slinked down into the covers, and pretended to sleep.

  Why was I such a coward? What was I so afraid of?

  After a few apprehensive moments, the light to my room turned off and Darius’s door clicked closed. Regret and disappointment washed over me like a cold shower.

  I threw my covers off and slid my hand down my face. I rolled to the side and stared at the vines my mother once painted, so life-like in the dark that they clung to the walls and grew toward the ceiling. Was it this hard for her when Nikolaos left? How long did it take for her to find and accept my father? Was she as much of a coward as I was?

  And even as I asked the questions, I already knew the answer.

  No. She was brave. She was fierce.

  I closed my eyes, hating the sting of moisture that built. “You are such an idiot,” I said to the only one in the room who could be that stupid.

  “What did I do this time?” a deep voice asked.

  I gasped and flipped over with so much force that the back of my knuckles stung from hitting solid muscle, but Darius didn’t even flinch.

  “You scared me,” I said, clutching the fabric at my heart.

  “I can tell.”

  I held my breath to control the level of my pulse then sat up, cross-legged beneath my sheets. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, taking a seat next to me, his eyes concealed by the darkness of the room.

  I fidgeted with the edge of my sheets. “So, what’s up?” I asked, suddenly aware of his shirtless physique. My eyes flashed downward. He wore the same sweat pants he wore almost every night. “Why are you here?”

  Darius shook his head, but then his eyes narrowed at something on my nightstand. “Why aren’t you wearing your dreamcatcher?”

  I snapped my head up to look at him. “Jonathan has been so distant. I want him to be able to talk to me whenever he needs.”

  “But there’s a loophole. If there’s no mal-intent he can get through to you anyways, so…” He let his voice trail off.

  I couldn’t help but glare. “Mal-intent or not, I can handle him. I want him to be able to get through.”

  His tone was wary. “Ava—”

  My pulse quickened as anxiety infused my words. “I’m worried about him, Darius. He’s alone and going through… an identity crisis, I think. What kind of friend would I be if I wasn’t there when he needed me?”

  “He’s a demon.”

  I shook my head, holding up a hand in warning, but he sighed in defeat before my protest could even leave my mouth.

  “Fine. I’ll trust you know what you’re doing, but I wish you would trust him less.”

  “He’s proven himself.”

  His honey eyes dropped to my hands in my lap and I wondered if he would reject my statement, but then he asked, “Have I proven myself, Ava?” He reached a finger to trace the length of my arm, silencing any response I may have formed. My skin reacted in an eruption of goosebumps. “We should discuss what happened this afternoon.”

  10

  Of love or not

  “Oh?” Apprehension plagued me as the once contained butterflies fought their way up my swelling throat. I mentally cursed my weakness. Why was I reacting like a silly teenage girl in the first stages of a crush? Hadn’t I just been upset when I thought he had gone to bed? Didn’t I want this? I steeled my nerves. “Okay. Sure—”

  My voice cut off when his lips covered mine. I managed a shocked, “Oh!” as a flurry of excitement exploded within my stomach, but it didn’t take me long to get over the surprise.

  I leaned into him, eager, wrapping my arms around his neck as his fingers tangled into my hair.

  He murmured my name, and his voice, his
breath upon my skin, was as intoxicating as I remembered it to be. A new emotion sprang up inside of me. Strange and passionate, it nearly caused me to gasp out loud. Was it desire? Hope? Or something more? But as his need intensified, I wasn’t willing to waste further time figuring it out.

  I relished every curve of his shoulders and followed the lines on his back. I splayed my fingers, gently scratching down his spine, eliciting a shudder of muscle. I pressed into his skin and could almost feel the ink from his tattoos—the angelic chords.

  I had never asked what they meant, but I already knew. I always knew. It was a story about me. About us. The Defenders of mankind.

  I pulled against his bottom lip with my teeth. Darius groaned, wrapping his other arm around my back and guiding me down to the soft blankets. Every touch sent me spiraling with dizzy anticipation for the next.

  Space between our bodies became almost non-existent, but somehow it wasn’t close enough. I wanted more—more of his attention. More of him. I tried to wrap my leg around his, but it was trapped by my comforter and what seemed like too many layers of sheets. His hands fought to find the skin at my stomach, but they too become trapped in the swaddles of white linens. He growled in frustration, tugging, but then with a jolt he sprang from the bed.

  Cold instantly flooded over me. “Darius?”

  His fists clenched and unclenched as he scanned the room, looking anywhere but at me. “I think we need to slow down a bit,” he said, breathless.

  My face filled with heat. Although I managed to keep from crying, I could hear the hurt in my words. “Did I—Did I do something wrong?”

  “What?” His head jerked back in shock. “No, of course not.”

  “Then why—”

  Darius moved forward, pressing his fists against the side of the bed, bringing our faces only inches apart. His eyes devoured me. I sucked in a breath at the passion in them.

  “Because we’re not married, Ava.”

  “I—” My heart slammed in my chest, suddenly aching and broken. “Does that really matter?”

  He gave me a strange look. “It should matter,” he said, pushing off the mattress. He paced the floor. “As of right now, you’re not mine. Until that happens, you could be someone else’s future wife. I will not take that from them.”

  “Take what from who?”

  “I won’t have sex with you until we’re bonded.”

  “Sex?” My voice crept high. “How did we jump to that?”

  “Oh, believe me. That’s where this,” and he motioned to the bed in a circular motion, “was going.” He pulled his fingers through his hair. “Ava, how do you feel about me?” he asked, his voice frustrated and dark. “Do you love me?”

  “Love?” I asked, my mouth suddenly dry.

  “Because I can honestly say that I love you. I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you.”

  My heart flew into overdrive. I was both elated and terrified by his confession.

  He shook his head. “That doesn’t mean that I wasn’t annoyed or frustrated by you. Nor does that mean I didn’t want to drag you over my knee a few times, but yes, I was head over heels.” He sat at the edge of the bed and slowly leaned over. I froze in place as he pressed warm lips against my neck. “So, the question is, how do you feel about me?”

  My mind reeled. I understood what he was asking. He wanted me to tell him that I loved him, but did I? It was undeniable that I found him attractive—I couldn’t be in the same room with him without physically reacting. Every ounce of my being ached for his touch. He was stimulating in other ways, too, but was what I felt love?

  Once again, a constant and perpetually nagging voice entered my mind. “Men will think they’re in love with you,” my father had said, “but they’re not. They’re attracted to your calling. Your goodness. Your strength.”

  I shook the memory from my mind, and tried to ask, “How do we know—”

  “We’ve already been over this,” he interrupted. His fingers tickled up my neckline and along my jaw. “It’s not your calling that attracts me. This is my choice, Ava. I don’t have to love you, but I do.”

  I swallowed back the raw emotion building within my chest.

  Maybe that was it. I wanted it to be my choice. Not my mother’s choice, The Three’s, or even God’s. I wanted whether I mated with Darius to be my decision.

  Softer than a feather, his lips drifted over mine, teasing, coaxing me to surrender. I willingly submitted. After several minutes of bliss, his lips lifted in a smile before he pulled away again. I was putty in his hands and he knew it.

  “Well?” he asked, expectant.

  I folded my arms in defiance. “How do you expect me to answer you when you keep distracting me?”

  His eyes flashed to mine. “Am I distracting you?” But when I didn’t answer he took my hands in his. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you the time you need to decide, but in the meantime, why don’t we go on some actual dates?”

  I gave him a pointed look. “The Annihilator is sending demons to attack us left and right. We can’t just... go out to the movies.”

  “But what if we go for a stroll when we’re done with an assignment? Stop for an ice cream, or a late-night dinner after we’re done?”

  “I don’t see that working.”

  He shrugged. “It might not, but it’s worth a try.”

  I traced a finger down the side of his face. “Alright, deal,” I said, and then I snuggled into the bed. With my body now physically drained, exhaustion tugged on my mind. I reached for his hand, feeling suddenly brave. “We could try something else, as well.”

  “And what’s that?” he asked, his voice wary.

  “Come stay with me.”

  His eyes flashed to my blanket. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “You’ve stayed the night in my room before—”

  “In that horrible thing Elisa calls a chair, yes, but that’s not exactly comfortable.”

  “And you know that’s not what I’m suggesting,” I said, tugging at his hand.

  With reluctance, he allowed me to guide him onto the bed. I turned over to my side, and waited for him to settled in. My skin zinged when his arm wrapped around my waist and his body pressed against mine.

  I closed my eyes, content from his touch. Just as I was drifting off to sleep, a sharp jerk woke me. Darius again fled from the bed.

  “What—what’s the matter?” I rolled to peer over my shoulder, but he was already halfway across the room, heading toward his adjoining door.

  “Good night,” he said with a backward wave.

  “What are you doing?”

  He shook his head, still unwilling to look at me. “I’m not strong enough for this, Ava.”

  “Are you serious?” I asked, and I wondered if my voice sounded pained, because he finally spared me a glance.

  A smirk pulled at his lips. “It’s not you, babe. I’m a man. What do you expect?”

  “Babe?”

  “Go to sleep,” he said, then left my room.

  A laugh bubbled from my lips when the door closed with a resolute click. I snuggled down into my covers, content and warm. A few minutes later, the door cracked an inch, but Darius didn’t return that night.

  Water trickled from my black umbrella. The damp night pressed against me like a jail cell. A single street lamp lit the space around us. I blew on my numb fingers as I scanned the rainy streets, and I suddenly missed the dry heat and bright, clear skies of Arizona. I was sure England was beautiful, but with as much work as we were doing at night, sleeping was to be done when local sights could be enjoyed.

  “Why is it always raining?” I asked, kicking a stone from the dirt road. “And why always at night?”

  “This is only a light drizzle.” Darius peeked over his shoulder and smiled in that way that caused my whole body to react.

  He loved me. He had said so himself, and even though he hadn’t said it again since that first night, I knew it hadn’t diminished in po
tency. But how did I feel for him?

  “Besides,” he continued, unaware of my divided attention, “demons won’t risk being seen doing their dirty work. It might sound odd, but they have their lives to protect. They can’t afford detection that would force them to look for another body.”

  His finger caressed the line of my jaw, producing an instantaneous blush. I grumbled an unintelligible response and looked away.

  The past two weeks had blown by in a blur. Almost every day there was a mortal in peril from demons. Most of the time it was a lesser that we encountered, but twice it had been a Fallen. They were not so easy to take care of. My side still ached from being speared by a wild blade the last one had thrown before turning his other one on himself.

  Another suicide. Most of the recent confrontations had ended that way.

  “Do you see anything?” I asked over the mics. Frustration and impatience battled on my nerves.

  Tonight was different than the others. My vision was ambiguous, leading us where to go, but nothing more. As to who we needed to save and what we would face, the revelation was being stingy.

  Darius and I waited alone near a bench on the outside of a small town. A single road disappeared over dark, rolling hills. To say that we were bait sounded harsh, but that’s exactly what we were. The others stood guard within the town, spying through binoculars and watching for signs of movement. I shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold. I felt exposed. Naked.

  “Coming your way,” Cedric warned over the coms. “Two. They look like Fallen.”

  “Two?” My heartrate picked up in speed.

  “We’ll follow behind and trap them in,” Cedric said.

  “Roger that,” Laith said from his position. “Darius and Ava, we’re on our way. Don’t attack instantly. Wait for backup.”

  “Why?” I asked, scanning the street for any sign of movement. “I’ve taken care of a Fallen by myself.” But that wasn’t totally true. Jonathan had fought along with me.

  Laith growled. “Some Fallen are stronger than others. Darius, see if you can get some information from them.”