by Larissa Ione
“Wait.” Aurora held up her hand. “What? Did you say Hades?”
Cat’s grin was pure ate-the-canary satisfied. “Yep. That Hades. He’s the Jailor of Souls, so he pretty much has to live in the jail. It’s not my dream home, but you do what you have to do to be with the one you love, right?”
This place just kept getting weirder and weirder.
“Right,” Aurora said, although she really couldn’t see herself living someplace like this for anyone.
Hawkyn’s image flashed in her head, which was insane, given that she’d only known him for a matter of hours. And she was not here with him.
Cat cocked her head and studied Aurora with such intensity that she had to force herself to not squirm. “I’m just curious—and you don’t have to answer—but how do you know Hawkyn? Are you one of his Primori?”
Aurora shook her head. “He’s protecting me from his Primori. And he might be protecting his Primori from me, as well.”
For some reason, Cat’s expression became troubled. “I see. Well, I’d better go—”
“Wait.” Careful to avoid hitting the spot on her palm that might trigger a flow of energy, Aurora grabbed Cat’s forearm as she turned to leave. “What’s the matter?”
“It’s nothing.” Cat smiled reassuringly. “Really.”
Aurora sighed. “Please don’t bullshit me. I’ve had a really rough couple of days.”
There was a moment of tense silence, and then Cat stepped closer and lowered her voice. “I love the people here. I admire the work Memitim do, because I know I couldn’t do it. They’re dedicated, passionate, and tough as nails.” She hesitated, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth, and Aurora struggled to contain her impatience. Finally, Cat blurted, “But they can also be ruthless in their missions to protect their Primori. They’ll do whatever it takes, even if their Primori is a genocidal maniac.”
Aurora knew that. But for the first time, she was truly becoming aware of what that meant. “You’re saying that if Hawkyn’s Primori needs to kill me to fulfill his destiny or whatever—”
“Hawkyn will deliver you to him like a pizza.”
* * * *
“Hey, brother.” Emerico stopped near where Hawkyn was sitting on a park bench with Atticus’s notes about Drayger. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do about your serial killer predicament?”
Nope. And it was driving him nuts. He always had all the answers, and for the first time in longer than he could remember, he was at a loss.
“The only thing I can do right now is keep Aurora safe,” he said, peering down at the notes that had begun to blur with uselessness.
“You know you can’t keep her here, right?”
Hawk’s gaze cut sharply to his brother. “As long as the Council and embassy don’t know she’s here, who cares?”
“Our father cares.”
Alarm clanged inside him. “He knows?”
Hawkyn had figured Azagoth would find out sooner rather than later, given that Lilliana had met Aurora, but geez, it had only been a couple of hours. And Hawkyn didn’t think he’d give a shit anyway. Azagoth didn’t exactly follow the rules.
“I just spoke with him,” Rico said. “I guess he saw Suzanne escorting her to Hotel Hell.”
“Yeah, well, Memitim business isn’t his business. What’s it matter to him if I have her here?”
Rico shrugged. “I think he’s trying to toe the Heavenly line.” He rolled his eyes. “You know, for the first time ever. He wants something from them. Whatever it is, he wants it bad if he’s playing their games.”
Shit. This was unexpected. “Guess I’d better see him and get this cleared.”
Another roll of Rico’s dark eyes. “He’ll probably let it slide. He lets his favorites get away with murder.”
Hawkyn gaped. “You think I’m one of his favorites?”
“Lilliana likes you, so he likes you.”
Ah, yes. Hawk had forgotten that there was no love lost between Lilliana and Rico. Hawkyn had no idea what Lilliana’s side of the story was, but Rico had despised her since the day he claimed she’d slapped him for giving her a compliment. Hawkyn had known Rico for several decades longer than he’d known Lilliana...which was why he was almost certain Rico had deserved anything Lilliana did to him. He loved his brother, but the guy refused to take responsibility for his actions and always claimed he was the victim in any situation.
“Do you think he should let it slide?” Hawkyn asked, and Rico shrugged.
“I think her being here can only hurt you.” Rico signaled to one of their sisters, who was tapping her foot impatiently at the tennis court. “Eva and I are practicing for the tennis tourney next week. You gonna root for us?”
“Sure,” Hawkyn said absently. “See you later.”
Rico took off and Hawkyn went straight to Azagoth’s office. Zhubaal, his fallen angel assistant, granted him immediate entry. Inside, his father was observing a parade of demon souls escorted by his griminions as they guided the demons to their final destination in the Inner Sanctum. With the exception of one unfortunate accident, not a single soul got into the Sanctum without Azagoth’s approval, and while most spent no more than a few seconds with the Grim Reaper, every once in a while he pulled one aside, and no one wanted to be that guy.
“Hawkyn.” Azagoth didn’t even turn to look at him. “Are you here to tackle me again?”
“Twice in twenty-four hours would be considered rude,” Hawkyn said, mirroring the amused tone in his father’s voice. It was always smart to start off any conversation with Azagoth on a positive note.
Azagoth grunted, which Hawk was going to take as a laugh. “Then what can I do for you?”
“I just talked to Emerico. He says you agree with him that Aurora should leave.”
With a wave of his hand, Azagoth froze the soul parade in their tracks and turned to Hawkyn. “That’s a slight mischaracterization of what I said.”
Hope zinged through him. “Then she can stay?”
“No. I said I think you should be able to have her here.” The fireplace on the far wall flared to life, sparked by nothing more than Azagoth’s thoughts. “But there are rules. She has to go.”
Son of a bitch. Hawk’s heart sank to his feet. So much for hope. Aurora deserved better than this, and he was going to keep fighting for her. And this wasn’t even about the guilt he harbored for putting the wheels of her situation into motion. This was about the fact that he liked her.
Primori or not, she was special.
“That’s not right and you know it,” he said fiercely. “There’s a serial killer after her. She’s not Primori, so rules shouldn’t apply to her.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.” Azagoth propped his hip on his desk and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “The Memitim Council only allows me to keep Sheoul-gra open to Memitim as long as they don’t use it to thwart the Council’s rules or to interfere with Primori fates.”
“I’m not using Sheoul-gra for either of those things,” he argued. “I have confirmation that Drayger’s fate hasn’t been changed by anything I’ve done with Aurora. Besides, this is your realm. Your rules. You can get the Memitim Council to change their minds. Make them.”
“I can’t, son,” Azagoth said, and Hawkyn nearly fell over. Azagoth had never directly addressed him that way, and Hawkyn wasn’t sure what to say. Fortunately, Azagoth continued speaking, sparing him a response. “There are only so many things I can negotiate for. I only have so many cards to play, and I can’t waste them on a single human female.”
“But—”
“No. You have a duty. A duty to your Primori. Not to a random human.”
“She’s neither random nor human,” he gritted out. “And I don’t need to be lectured about duty.”
Azagoth’s curse accompanied a sudden shove to his feet and a tangible tension in the air.
“You have feelings for this female. That’s stupid, Hawk. You’re letting your emotions affec
t the job. And your actions. It’s a mistake.”
“A mistake?” Hawkyn snorted. “I can’t believe you just said that. You, who changed your entire realm for a female who seems to be avoiding you more often than not.”
“My relationship with my mate is none of your concern.”
A niggle of warning told Hawkyn he should shut up. Right now. But dammit, he liked Lilliana, his father had been a ginormous asshat recently, and his temper was already on the verge of eruption.
Azagoth’s blood did flow in his veins, after all.
“It’s a concern of mine when Lilliana’s been more of a parent to me than you’ve ever been,” he said. “I don’t want to see her hurt.”
Hissing, Azagoth rounded on him, and Hawk wondered what had pissed him off more; that Lilliana had been a better parent or that Hawkyn was accusing Azagoth of hurting her.
“I’ve provided you food, shelter, training—”
“Congratulations on doing the bare minimum, Dad. You going to take a bow for the six seconds it took you to ensure conception?” If the crimson rage in Azagoth’s cheeks was any indication, this was a sore subject too, but Hawk was too worked up to hit the brakes. “At least my mother carried me inside her body before she dumped me in the human realm to fend for myself.”
Azagoth went as still as an ice sculpture. “If you’re so unhappy with your circumstances, why are you here?”
Good question. Until just a couple of years ago he’d resided with other Memitim in a Belgian castle, one of several “group homes” where Memitim lived and trained if they didn’t want to live by themselves or serve Azagoth—pre-Lilliana, when he was still evil off-the-charts. But post-Lilliana, when their father opened up his realm to them, many, if not most, had come looking for something that had eluded the majority of them since birth—belonging to a family. A real parent. Brothers and sisters. And even though Azagoth could be a huge asshole, life in Sheoul-gra was still better than anything else Hawk had experienced.
“I’m not unhappy,” he said. “Not here.”
“But you are unhappy.”
Hawkyn had never really thought about it like that. He’d been fucking great at his job, duty-bound to the point of ignoring even simple pleasures. But yeah, now that Azagoth mentioned it, he’d been increasingly dissatisfied with a lot of shit.
“I despise the bullshit Memitim rules. No alcohol besides wine. No sex. No self-gratification. Limited interaction with humans, demons, or angels who aren’t Memitim. The fact that we’re considered lesser angels, second-class citizens. I want to Ascend so I can become a Council member and change things. Did you know that some of the Council members are angels? Regular angels who were never Memitim? What kind of shit is that? How can they make the rules for people they don’t respect or understand?”
Azagoth gave him a “duh” look because of course he knew angels sat on the Memitim Council. Hawk’s mother was one of them.
“I understand your frustration,” Azagoth said as he moved to the fully stocked bar, probably to rub Hawkyn’s nose in the fact that he wasn’t supposed to drink the fine rum he was reaching for. “Heaven has been making the rules for Sheoul-gra for thousands of years.”
“And you bend and break them all the time.”
“I know which ones can be altered.” The rum made a soft gurgling sound as Azagoth poured it into a highball glass. “I know which are worth paying the price for.”
“And you don’t think allowing Aurora to stay here is worth the price.”
“Nope.” He took a swig of his drink. “Take my advice, son. Life is way too long to spend it with regrets. Send the female away and don’t look back.”
“Like you did with us? With our mothers?” It was a cheap shot, a throwaway line borne of hundreds of years of frustration. And maybe some abandonment issues.
“You know nothing,” Azagoth growled. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“Actually, I think you owe me and my siblings a lot.”
Azagoth’s eyes began to glow with an unholy blood-red light, and Hawkyn knew he’d poked the beast one too many times. “Get. Out.”
“Out of your office?” he snapped. “Or out of Sheoul-gra?”
“Your choice.” There was no hesitation. No wavering of resolve in Azagoth’s gaze or his voice. “But either way, get out of my sight, and take the female with you.”
Hurt sliced through him. His father didn’t give a flying fuck if he left. Well, maybe Hawk should take his advice. The one useful thing Azagoth had given him.
“No regrets, right?” He wheeled around and impulsively snatched the bottle of rum off Azagoth’s bar top before opening the office door. “Don’t look back.”
He didn’t.
But damn, it hurt.
Chapter Thirteen
Aurora had to get the hell out of here. There was no way she was going to sit around and wait for Hawkyn to serve her up to Drayger like a main course. If Drayger could, indeed, track her, she’d just keep moving until she could set up a trap to either kill him or bleed him.
Killing him would probably be impossible thanks to Hawkyn’s protection, but if she could just get some blood, she could try Wytches_Float’s instructions for breaking his ability to track. Of course, she’d need a sex partner for that too.
She suddenly pictured herself in bed with Hawkyn, his muscular body moving with hers, his strong hands touching her, stroking her, giving her the kind of pleasure she hadn’t experienced in far too long. Feminine instinct told her he was the kind of male who would be dangerous in the sack, not because he was violent, but because he was addictive. She’d barely gotten a taste of him and she already understood that it would only take a single orgasm to get hopelessly hooked.
Snarling with frustration that was only partly sexual, she slipped out of Hotel Hell’s side door. After checking to make sure no one was paying any attention, she secured her duffel on her shoulder and hurried toward the pad she and Hawkyn had arrived on. She didn’t know how to operate it, but he’d said non-angels arrived and departed via a twin portal, so she had to try. How difficult could it be?
No one stopped her. Heck, no one even looked at her as she stepped onto the portal and planted her feet at the very center.
Nothing happened.
Was there a command? Or did it operate the way most of her abilities worked, with a mere thought?
Think.
She pictured a twin portal, and instantly, a rush of tingles spread through her insides. A tugging sensation came next, and the next thing she knew, she was looking at a forest, and this was definitely not Sheoul-gra.
But now what? There was a Harrowgate nearby, she was sure, but she wasn’t sensitive to them and had no idea how to find it, let alone operate it.
She should have paid more attention when Runa escorted her through the one at Underworld General.
Well, she thought, as she considered her next move, at least she wasn’t in Hell anymore. But if this was Siberia or some shit, it wouldn’t be much better. She had no money, no identification, and no idea in which direction she should start walking.
Just as she was contemplating going back to Sheoul-gra, a tall male, his face concealed inside a hooded brown robe, popped onto the pad with her.
“Coming or going?” he asked.
“Ah...I guess it depends on your point of view.” She eyed his robes and wondered if he was an angel, and if so, what kind. Weird, just days ago she hadn’t been sure angels existed, and now she was aware that there were different varieties of them. “I’m trying to get to Portland, Oregon.”
He stared at her with eyes so intense that she scrambled backward until her heels hit the edge of the pad. Power radiated from him in waves that crashed into her like an angry ocean and left it hard for her to breathe.
Was he going to hurt her? Her mind screamed for Hawkyn, and she didn’t even care that she was in this situation because she had been trying to get away from him.
“Trust your instincts.”
“What does that—”
A shower of light filled her vision, and a heartbeat later, she found herself standing in front of her house, her palms sweating, her heart pounding.
Jesus. How had she gone from living a relatively normal human life to bouncing around a supernatural landscape at the whim of beings she hadn’t even believed in mere days ago?
She inhaled a ragged breath and tried to gather her thoughts. At least she was home. She could work with that.
It was night, but the full moon was so bright that it cast shadows all around her. Inside her house, the lights on a timer had come on, the faint glow streaming through gaps in the curtains.
On the surface, everything seemed normal. But as she moved toward the path to her front porch, a chill ran down her spine, nearly paralyzing her right there on her lawn.
Drayger.
Holy shit, he was inside her house. Inside her sanctuary.
Rage, terror, and the desire to take ugly, nasty revenge bubbled up in her throat where a war cry was on deck, ready to join the blast of silver fire she was going to send streaming into Drayger’s chest. Her well of energy wasn’t completely restored, but what she’d gotten from Hawkyn would be enough for one short burst. She just had to catch Drayger by surprise.
He knows you’re here.
Yes, he probably did. But if she could hide, maybe sneak in—
The front door opened. Her fingertips burned as her power gathered. The second she saw his ugly face, he was toast.
“Aurora, no!”
Strong arms closed around her, and suddenly Hawkyn was there, his body between her and Drayger. Then, in a gust of cold wind, everything changed. The temperature. The time of day. The freaking continent.
She was no longer standing on her lawn, but on a cobblestone path. And she was no longer looking at her house, but a well-kept medieval castle.
“What the hell are you doing?” She tried to jerk away from Hawkyn’s grip. “I was going to—”
“Kill him.” Hawkyn released her and stepped back, his expression hard, cold, and despite her anger, she shivered. “You were going to kill him.”