When they reached their destination, their footsteps tapered to quiet.
“I didn’t mean any bloody harm,” William cried.
“Sorry, pal, but you’re a liability now.” Next there was a slide of metal against leather, followed by the rip of flesh and muscle. A grunt. Another rip, another grunt.
William had just been stabbed. Twice.
Aeron flinched in sympathy. To take whatever was dished, just to leave an enemy unsuspecting, required guts—guts William was probably spilling all over the pavement. He’d survive, though, and he’d be able to repay the favor. They all would.
He heard clothing rustle, then a thump. William must have dropped to the ground and slumped over as if dead. The footsteps started up again, and then the two guards—smiling now over a job well done—were once more rounding the corner. They headed back inside.
Strider kept the hidden car trained on Stefano and the workers even now boarding up the hole. Finally, they finished up.
“Fuckers,” William grumbled in his ear. “Those two are mine. They went for my sweet, innocent little kidneys.”
There was nothing sweet or innocent about William. Not even his kidneys.
“Just a few minutes more,” Aeron promised.
“I want two guards at this door until morning,” Stefano barked. “The rest of you go back to what you were doing. And for fuck’s sake, someone contact Galen. Better we tell him what happened than he hear it from someone else.”
The two who’d stabbed William nodded and claimed their posts.
So Galen wasn’t there. Disappointing.
As Aeron watched, the rest of the Hunters filed out of the lobby, through the club and down a hallway. Strider stared at the monitor as he maneuvered the car silently behind them. In that hallway were several doorways. One, the camera showed, led to a room where a few Hunters were relaxing in front of a TV. In the second room, a few were peering at screens and clicking at computer consoles, much like Torin did. In the third, bed after bed stretched. Several Hunters were clearly sleeping in them.
Stefano entered the fourth, an empty room. There were no people and no furnishings. There was only a rug. A rug that had been flung aside to reveal a dark, yawning void. A void into which Stefano descended.
An underground tunnel.
Digging their way to the fortress?
Planning to sneak inside, never having to deal with the traps on the hill?
“We have the location of their hideaway,” Strider said smugly.
Go time. For Aeron at least.
“You know which way you have to go?” Strider asked.
“Yes.” As he’d watched the monitor, he’d memorized his path.
Strider patted his shoulder. “May the gods be with you, my friend.”
“And you.” Aeron pushed to his feet. He hadn’t worn a shirt because he’d known he would be flying. With a single mental command, he popped his wings free from their slits. Grateful for the freedom, they stretched to full length.
“Good luck, my man,” Paris said.
“Be careful,” a few others echoed.
“If anything happens to me,” he said to no one in particular, “make sure Olivia returns home safely.”
Aeron didn’t wait for their replies, but shot into the air.
Punish…
He soared high…higher…moving so quickly he would be no more than a blur to any camera in the area. Even one that could cut through shadows. Finally, he leveled out and hovered.
Punish…
Below him was the club. He searched the darkness, but there were no Hunters on the roof, and he couldn’t see the Lords he knew were scattered nearby.
Tonight, victory would be his.
Punish…
My pleasure. “Descending now.” Down, down he fell, wind whipping over his skin, wings tucked into his sides, increasing his momentum. When he reached the building, he flattened out and burst through the wooden slats that had just been erected. They brutalized his wings, cutting and breaking them, but they also knocked down the guards.
Aeron didn’t pause, but flew through the lobby, the dance arena, and then the hallway. Hunters had heard the newest crash and were springing into action, but they were doing so behind him, too slow to catch him. Only when he reached the room with the rug did he finally stop.
Wrath laughed, images flashing through Aeron’s mind. The sins of his targets. Beatings, stabbings, kidnappings. So much violence, so much hatred. These men deserved what they got.
“Demon!”
“Stop him!”
He hid his wings—or tried to. Once again they were too mangled to fit into their slots. No matter. He strode toward the repositioned rug just as Hunters reached the doorway. A bullet cut through his back, but he didn’t slow. He simply spun as he walked, withdrawing a gun from his underarm sheath and firing, sending several men ducking for cover.
A reprieve. He threw back the thick, colorful mat.
“Bastard!” Another bullet whizzed behind him and slammed into his side.
He returned fire.
Amid the new gunshots, he heard his friends pounding into the building. Soon there were grunts and screams. Shattering glass. No time to rejoice. Yet another bullet hit him, this one in his thigh, dropping him to his knees.
“Some help,” he gritted into his earpiece. He continued to fire, sending the Hunters back into hiding. He couldn’t hold them off much longer. The gun’s clip was—empty. Shit. He tossed the now-useless piece to the floor.
Punish. More. More!
“Almost there,” Strider panted as the shooting started up again.
Aeron withdrew a second gun just as his friend arrived. Within moments, bodies were falling forward, motionless, then Strider was peeking inside. Blood splattered his face, but his eyes were gleaming brightly and a smile kicked up the corners of his lips.
“Get everyone out,” Aeron told him. “It’s about to blow.”
Strider nodded and was off, shouting warnings to their fellow warriors.
Aeron jerked at the latch on the tunnel door; it held. Though his arm was throbbing, trembling, he squeezed his weapon’s trigger over and over until the metal splintered apart.
“Now!” Strider’s shout echoed through their earpieces.
Aeron didn’t allow himself to wallow in the pain he felt—pain that would soon intensify. He didn’t allow himself to acknowledge the drugging lethargy even then working through his bloodstream. Courtesy of the Hunters’ poison, he was sure. He simply grabbed a grenade from the pouch at his waist and pulled the pin with his teeth.
He tossed open the door—multiple guns fired at him simultaneously, hitting, hitting, peppering his body with holes—and, pushing himself into the air with what strength remained in his legs, he dropped the grenade.
Wrath uttered another of those joyful laughs. Punish!
Boom!
The ensuing blast of air sent him crashing through the roof. When he stilled, he grabbed another grenade, pulled the pin, and dropped it through the void he’d created.
Boom!
Wood and glass shards soared in every direction, cutting him further, knocking him off course. Still he persevered. His wings were now so broken they barely flapped, but he managed to work himself higher. At a safe distance, he stopped. Hovering, though, proved impossible.
As he fell, he swept his gaze around the surrounding area. Plumes of black smoke shielded the building. But through them, he could see crackling gold flames licking their way toward the sky.
None of the humans could have survived this kind of carnage. He, however, was unwilling to leave anything to chance. He withdrew the third grenade and as he closed in on the building, he dropped it.
Boom!
Once again, he was shot upward. The new flames made contact, singeing his skin. He twisted midair, letting his back take the brunt of the damage before twisting again, changing direction and finally falling and hitting the ground where he’d first waited with Strider.
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His friend was already there. “I could kiss you,” was the first thing the warrior said. “Even though you look like shit.”
Aeron would have laughed, but he’d inhaled smoke and his throat was raw and swollen. He was barely breathing. His eyes teared from the burn, and he didn’t have the strength to swipe the drops away.
“I’m sure you want a report,” Strider added, helping him to his feet. “William managed to cut the throats of the guys who cut his guts. Paris took a bullet to the stomach, and Reyes got hammered in the kneecap. They aren’t faring so well, so Maddox and Amun are helping them home. Exactly where you need to be. Lucien’s gonna remain behind to escort the dead souls to hell, and Sabin’s gonna stay with him just in case he has to leave his body behind. Or there are survivors. If the tunnel is deep enough, those who ran could have been protected from the blast. And you know how Stefano likes to run.”
Dizziness swept through him, mild at first, then raging, flooding, and if it weren’t for Strider’s arm snaking his waist, he would have fallen. Worse, darkness was descending.
“They used poisoned bullets, definitely,” Strider said, mirroring his earlier thoughts. “Like the one that almost killed you. How’d you survive? What did you do? We should have asked before, but with everything else going on…”
Aeron’s thoughts fragmented, but he knew there was something he needed to tell his friend. Something vital. Something about life and death. Yes. That was it. Life! “Men…shot…die…need…water,” he managed.
“I don’t understand.”
Shit, shit, shit. If he passed out before he explained what was needed, his friends would suffer. They might die before he awakened or Olivia explained. “River. Drink.”
“You’re thirsty?”
“Water. Men. Must. Drink. Water. Life.”
“Aeron, I don’t understand,” Strider said, his frustration clear. “The men who were shot need water? How will water save them?”
“Water life. Only need…little. Olivia. Olivia…know.” And then the darkness dragged him under completely.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
OLIVIA PACED the confines of Aeron’s bedroom. Legion was still sleeping, but she’d been moaning the past hour so Olivia knew she would awaken at any moment. And wouldn’t that just be a treat?
—can’t give up, Temptation—Lucifer—was saying. He’d been jabbering for hours. You must win Aeron.
Allowing a prince of darkness to win, as well. Never. That was something she’d fought against her entire life. Victory was all that truly mattered, even at the expense of her own happiness. And that’s exactly what the price was. Her happiness.
He needs you.
“Quiet.”
He’ll be miserable without you.
“And he’ll deserve every bit of that misery.” Holy Deity, who was she becoming? That kind of attitude wouldn’t serve her well in the heavens. Yes, angels were tolerant and patient, as she’d told Aeron, but that didn’t mean they had to like who she’d become.
If you leave, you’ll never be allowed to taste him again.
A whimper escaped her. She wanted to hit the wall. “You are a thief, a liar and a destroyer. You will leave me alone. Or by my Deity, I will request Lysander be sent into the depths of hell to silence you. We both know that request will be granted. You are not to consort with the angels.”
You’re no longer an angel.
“I will be.”
Lucifer screamed in frustration, but didn’t say another word.
“Your voice is so annoying,” Legion mumbled as she sat up. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She must have forgotten how she’d fallen asleep, because she didn’t leap up and attack. Either that, or she didn’t care about retribution now that she knew Olivia would be leaving. “Where’s Aeron?”
Anger draining as concern swept through her, Olivia stopped at the vanity and plopped into the chair, facing the bed. “He’s raiding a Hunter camp.” Was he all right? She’d left his balcony doors open so that he could fly straight into this room. Though forever had passed, he hadn’t yet appeared.
Legion yawned. “Oh. Well. He’ll be home soon, then. My man kills quickly.”
Her man. Yes. He was now. Once again, Olivia wanted to punch the wall. A hole would leave some reminder of her. A reminder they could patch up when she was gone, but whatever.
That wasn’t important now.
A cool breeze had been dancing in through the open door, but for the past few minutes, she’d felt something sinister in the air. A sign of Lucifer’s presence, perhaps, or something else? The dark hints of smoke stung her throat, burned her eyes.
Perhaps the battle had already erupted.
Was it over? Was Aeron hurt?
Licking her lips, she wrapped trembling fingers around the vial she’d slipped into her robe’s pocket. The River of Life. She lifted the cold glass and studied the swirling blue liquid. Only a drop had been used, and there was plenty more. Would he need another drop this night? More than a drop?
If so, how long would the contents last?
“What’s that?” Legion asked with a yawn.
No longer did Olivia have to tell the truth, so she could have lied to Legion and kept the healing water a secret. But she wasn’t going to be around much longer, and she wanted the Lords to have access to the contents.
She explained what it was while reluctantly approaching the girl. When she held out her hand, the precious vial resting in her palm, she said, “Here. I want you to have it.”
“Hell, no.” With a grimace, the demon batted her hand away.
The vial slapped against the mattress, and Olivia anchored her fists on her waist. “Legion!”
“Your River of Life ruins our water system. We can’t even bathe after a single drop of that crap has contaminated just one of our five streams.”
“How sad for you. Just make sure the Lords use it sparingly. The longer it lasts, the more times you can bring Aeron back from the brink of death.”
“It can save Aeron?” Legion’s distaste had yet to dissipate, but she pinched the vial between her fingers, then smashed it between her cleavage. “I’ll use it sparingly. Promise.”
Olivia believed her. If anyone would see to Aeron’s health and make sure the warrior came first, it was Legion.
Should have been me.
She moved to the terrace but remained just inside, resting her head on the door frame. The moon was still high, still golden, but the stars were hidden behind that smoky film. She couldn’t see the city lights any longer, just trees and hill. Her worry increased.
You need a distraction. “Why do you love Aeron?” she asked before she could stop herself.
A pause, then, “He plays with me. He makes sure I’m happy. He protects me.” Legion probably didn’t realize it, but she sounded defensive.
Hinges squeaked as the bedroom door suddenly swung open, and Olivia turned, heart suddenly slamming against her ribs. “Aeron?” No one replied because no one was there. And with the door now thrown wide, she could see that the hallway was empty, too. The breeze must have been stronger than she’d thought. When would he return?
The others, the women, were camped out in the attic with Gwen, Sabin’s wife, acting as their protector. Just in case someone dug through the floor, Torin had explained. Something Olivia didn’t understand, though he’d mentioned a text message. Anyway, she liked Gwen, had from the first moment she’d seen her, scared to be here, hating what she was. Now Gwen was confident. Happy. Like I want to be.
She’d been grateful for the woman’s offer to join her and the others, but Olivia hadn’t wanted to leave Legion sleeping helplessly. And when Gwen had offered to carry the demon to the upper level, she should have caved, but again, she’d said no. This was her last night inside the fortress. She hadn’t wanted to spend it with a group of women she knew but who didn’t really know her. They would have questioned her about Aeron, and she just couldn’t deal with that right now.
Besid
es, Torin watched every inch of this place. He would sound an alarm if anyone besides a Lord even approached it.
With a sigh, she strode to the door and closed it, then ambled back to the terrace entryway. Her gaze flicked to Legion along the way. The demon was still lounging on the bed, but now she was studying her nails as if she couldn’t believe how pretty they were.
Where had they left off? “If you love someone,” Olivia said, “you want them to be happy. Right?”
“Uh, yeah. Hence the reason I’m going to sleep with Aeron. It’ll make us both happy.”
Had Olivia ever been this clueless? “No. It’ll make you happy. He thinks of you as a daughter. By forcing him to do this, you’re going to destroy him. You’re going to keep him wallowing in guilt, just like his tattoos do, a constant reminder of what he is, what he’s done and what he can never have.”
Those nails ripped into linen. “And you think you can make him happy?”
“I know I can,” she said softly. Or knew she would have. The way he’d made love to her that last time…that hadn’t just been about pleasure. That had been about a meeting of souls. A promise of what could never be. “He needs me.”
There was a very masculine laugh behind her. “Well, well. A demon Lord in love with an angel. I can’t believe my luck.”
Olivia’s eyes widened as she spun. She didn’t recognize the voice—not Lucifer, then—nor did she see anyone in the room. Great. Another invisible tormentor. Who was it this time? Was this her payback for all the times she’d spied on Aeron unseen?
“Who said that?” Legion demanded.
“You heard him?” What did that—
Strong hands suddenly settled atop Olivia’s shoulders, propelling her outside and forcing her to face the sky. Before she had time to resist, those hands shoved her over the railing she’d repaired in Aeron’s absence, and she was falling down, down, down.
For the first time in her life, falling terrified her. “The water,” she screamed to Legion. “Don’t forget the—”
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