Hell's Chapel ( Urban Fantasy

by Celia Kyle

  “They…” She couldn’t release the rest of the words.

  “I know, my young one.” Another papa.

  “Be easy.” And another.

  “You can’t do this, Caith.” That snarl was unmistakable. Papa Al.

  “You will cease this immediately.” So like Papa Leth.

  They all came. It was what they did. They sensed her pains, her injuries, and immediately rushed to her side.

  “What happened here?” Sometimes even Uncle Luc came and brought his roaring hellfire with him, the warmth soothing in some ways.

  A thud and grunt reached her ears a brief moment before yet another voice joined the fray. “What did you do to her, angel?”

  Her mother. Her mother left Hell. Not that she knew the woman well. She hardly left home. But… she came.

  They could all witness her pain. It gathered, growing and rolling through her with the power of her parents. Yes, her mother created a demon with a little bit of everything, but she also created a demon who had the ability to destroy… everything.

  Grunts and groans reached her, and still she only had eyes for Georges. Her pretty, pretty boy. It was odd, she knew it was odd, that she had such an attachment to a beast, but she was her father’s daughter. She clung to animals in her care, treated them as her children, and she’d had Georges for so long…

  A hiss cut through her focus followed by a growl from Uncle Luc. Good, he got Mom off Sam. Sam… would he hate her when she was done?

  Probably.

  “I’m sorry, sweet boy.” The anger grew, sliding from her skin to dance and stroke the grass beneath her. Flicking from blade to blade, climbing the roses that lurked nearby.

  “Fuck,” Uncle Luc spat. “Get them out of here. I’ll stay with her.”

  Bodies left the area. That was good. They shouldn’t be consumed by her grief. The razing of her land was enough. She didn’t want to hurt others, too.

  Yes, everyone left. Her papas retreated, her mother followed in their wake. They were gon—

  No, Sam remained. His sweet sulfur still teased her wolf’s senses. She tore her gaze from Georges and sought her mate. He crouched before her, dark hair shading his pale blue eyes. Pain was etched into his features and she looked him over, hunting for the source. Had he been harmed by Georges? The person responsible had even more to answer for.

  But… there were no cuts. His clothing was burned and smoked and his skin…

  She was burning him, scorching him with her grief and she immediately withdrew the hellfire from him, easing it into herself.

  “Sam,” she whispered.

  “I’m here, sweetheart.” His voice was just as low.

  “Papa Eron killed Georges.”

  “I know. He had to.”

  Caith nodded and another sob escaped, her hellfire flaring in response and her wolf’s fur emerged. The beast wanted to hunt and chase the ones who’d done this. Her claws slid free and transformed her hands into deadly paws. Her gums ached, fangs demanding release.

  Her human half would discover the perpetrator and her wolf and hellfire would destroy him.

  A tear escaped her eye and it sizzled on her cheek as the fire burned it away. “Yes. I’m going to kill them, Sam. I’m going to find them and rip out their hearts.”

  Sam reached for her, his hand nearing her face and she encouraged the flames to retreat further. The last thing she wanted was to burn her mate to a crisp. “I know. And I’ll be with you. I’ll hold them for you.”

  She shook her head. “No, On High will…”

  He reached for her other cheek and she banished the remainder of her fury. He was touching her, her mate was cupping her cheeks and stroking her face. She couldn’t injure him no matter how hot the hellfire wanted to burn.

  “On High will have a choice between understanding my choice and accepting my place in your life or banishing me entirely. But no matter what happens, I’m not leaving you, Caith.”

  The last of her flames slowly slid back into her, banked by Sam’s words and the hope that blossomed. “But…”

  “There are no buts. There’s you and me, Caith.”

  She placed her right hand atop his, memorizing the feel of his skin. “I would scorch the earth if you left me, Sam. You have to be sure. If we m-m-m—”

  “Mate. We’ll mate, Caith.”

  “If we mate,” her voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “If we mate and you leave, no one would survive. You need to understand that. On High needs to understand.”

  “I’ll make them understand.” Uncle Luc’s deep baritone drifted to her.

  Sam stroked her hair, brushing a few strands behind her ear. “Luc will take care of things, sweetheart.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead in a brief kiss. “I’m not leaving, understand? I’ll stand at your side.”

  She sniffled and swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Okay.” She nodded. “Okay.”

  Quiet remained, nothing breaking the silence but their low breathing. Seconds ticked past and no one said a word. Uncle Luc lurked nearby, she knew, but even he remained mute. She struggled to find peace within her heart, but Georges was a heavy weight in her lap, a physical reminder of her loss. Each time she thought she’d banished the sharper edges, they’d cut through her once again. It was a rough, tumultuous battle between calm and rage.

  Her flesh warmed, the first ticklings of her hellfire easing forward and her cheeks snapped, jaw cracking as her wolf attempted to come forward.

  “Samkiel…” Uncle Luc’s voice held a warning.

  Caith reacted without thought, wolf and fire objecting to her uncle’s reprimand. She tore her face from Sam’s touch and snapped in her uncle’s direction, a wave of hellfire flowing to him, burning the wind. She bared her fangs and snarled. No one would speak like that to her mate.

  “Amica,” Sam growled, the deep sound calling her wolf’s attention.

  While the growl remained, she refocused on Sam.

  “You need to calm down.” He cupped her cheeks once again. “Focus on me, on my breath.” He brought one of her hands to his chest, pressing her palm flat so she could feel each inhale and exhale. “Breathe with me. You’re stronger than this. We can’t hunt if you’re not in control. That’s it.” Inhale. Exhale. “I want to take you inside and get you bandaged.” Inhale. Exhale. “You’re injured and that’s unacceptable to me, Caith.”

  Injured?

  Yes, her lower leg. Georges had… Her wolf rose, anxious to go. To find.

  “Are you calm, my mate?” he spoke low.

  Mate. Yes, she was his mate and he wanted to care for her like a mate should and he couldn’t do that when…

  Caith nodded. “I’m calm. I’ll stay calm.” She stroked Georges’ hide and dropped her gaze. “What should I do with him?”

  “What do you want to do with him? Do you want to cremate him? Or do you prefer burial?”

  She shuddered. “I don’t want to lose him at all.”

  “I know, but we have to do something.”

  “Your Helene can help, infans.” Uncle Luc slid into their conversation and this time her demon and wolf remained in check. “She could preserve him until you decide. Until those who caused this are no longer in the tween.”

  No longer in the tween.

  “I don’t want them forgiven, Uncle Luc. Whoever it is, I want them in Hell.”

  “It will be done, infans. It will be done.” She didn’t doubt her uncle. When he gave his word, he kept it. No matter what deal he had to make with On High, the magic wielder would go to Hell. And stay there.

  “Okay,” she nodded. “See if Momma R will come by and take care of my Georges.”

  “She’s already here, sweetheart. She’s just waiting for you to settle.” Sam’s words tugged her attention from Uncle Luc. “Can she come out?”

  Caith nodded. “Yeah. I can’t… I can’t watch. Will you take me inside?”

  She hated tha
t she sounded like a weak child but she couldn’t take anymore. She wanted to be held, to be cared for, to be… loved. Just for a little while.

  Then she would feast on the blood of those responsible for Georges’ death.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Caith buried her face against Sam’s shoulder, taking strength from him as he carried her toward the house. The moment he lifted her into his arms and turned to face her home, others poured from the doors. All her parents, Jezebeth, Momma R… they all leapt from the interior. She knew she was their destination, but she couldn’t look at them. Not at that moment.

  “Sam,” she whispered.

  “I have you,” he returned just as quietly. His chin brushed her forehead when he shook his head and deterred them. “Later.”

  She sensed their frustration and anger, but no one said a word. No, they were quiet as he carried her through the house, his feet padding over the plush carpet and thumping on the polished hardwood. Not a sound followed them, but she knew the brownies kept pace, that they’d burst from their beds and now helped Sam navigate the house.

  Her bedroom door squeaked, telling her they’d arrived in her private sanctuary.

  Sam murmured a low thank you and then the door clicked closed, sequestering them in her personal space. The familiar scents welcomed her, the florals and woodsy aromas that beckoned the part of her that embraced nature. The room soothed her wolf which, in turn, helped to calm the raging hellfire. She was still on edge and it wouldn’t take much to send her spiraling into a flaming gulf of grief and anger.

  “Easy. You’re getting a little crispy, Caith.”

  The growing warmth disappeared in a single heartbeat, gone before her mind even had a chance to process his words.

  “Sorry.”

  Lips were brushed over her skin. “It’s okay. Let’s get you bandaged and clean. Then we can talk about what’s next.”

  She had only one firm thought about what happened next. Mating. He’d said he was staying and didn’t give a damn about anything else and he said… Hers. She needed him. Needed him to banish the grief and heartache and put her back together.

  A dozen steps brought them to her bathroom and she smiled at the low, long whistle he released.

  “Damn.”

  She grinned. “I like my baths.”

  “I see that.”

  She didn’t just have one tub, she had three. Well, one hot with jets, a regular bathtub and then a soaking tub. Plus the glass shower with multiple showerheads. Lately she’d been using the jets. Between bar fights and trying to keep the bar a little cleaner—she did not want to lose her new brownies—she’d typically came home sore and in need of relaxation.

  Sam moved across the room and soon she was carefully placed on the solid granite counter. He stepped back and turned as if to leave her and she snatched his arm, keeping him near.

  “I’m just turning on the light.”

  “No, leave them off. I’m not ready to…” She shook her head. “When I was a kid, I convinced myself that nothing was real in the dark. If I did something bad or if something happened that made me sad… If I couldn’t see it, it wasn’t real. It didn’t happen.” From the moment she left Georges, she’d kept her eyes closed and even now, the lids remained lowered. “Let it not be real a little longer.”

  He froze for a moment and she wasn’t sure if his heart even beat, but then he released a long, slow breath. “Anything you need.”

  When his warmth reached her, telling her he was close again, she opened her eyes. The room was dark, but a sliver of light filtered into the space from the bedroom.

  She could see his eyes, his soft expression, and the proof of his caring. “Thank you.”

  “Anything.” His gaze traveled over her, sliding from shoulders to hips and finally her lower leg. “We need to get your jeans off. Can you lift for me?”

  Caith nodded and did as he asked and it took no time to slide the damaged material down her legs, the jeans peeling away to reveal new bruises and the deep gouges from Georges.

  Georges… She trembled, fighting to suppress her cries.

  “Shh… I have you. I’ll get you cleaned and bandaged.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not that.”

  “I know,” his glittering gaze met hers. “I feel your pain, Caith. I know.”

  She swallowed hard. “How…”

  Sam stroked her skin, fingers gently sliding over her. “I committed myself to you. I feel you. I know you.”

  He said the words—the right words—but something niggled at the back of her mind. Something that said his change of heart was too good to be true. That…

  “I hear you, but I sense…”

  “I’m gonna be yours, Caith.”

  He’d be hers, but would she… Why was she questioning things now? Why?

  “You still want to…”

  He carefully eased between her legs, his expression intent. “I wasn’t lying out there. On High makes its own decisions, but I’ve made mine and I want to be yours.”

  Questions could be answered later because more tears burned her eyes, these coming forward and they had nothing to do with her lost friend. “Okay.”

  “Good.” He jerked his head in a quick nod. “Let’s get you cleaned up. How long will it take you to heal? I know wolves are pretty quick, but with the others…” he raised his eyebrows in question.

  “Once you get the dirt and grass out—” Her gut clenched. “It just needs to be clean and then it’s no more than a few minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  Sam moved around her bathroom as if he’d been in the space countless times. He dug through cabinets, snagged fresh towels and sought supplies with ease. It didn’t take him long to assemble the things he needed and then it became a study in endurance and control. No part of her wanted to strike out at him, but that didn’t stop instinctual responses. Like twitches and jerks, her fire and wolf fought the desire to slash the source of her hurt.

  “Amazing,” he whispered as he washed out the first gouge, the wound healing the moment the last speck of dirt was pushed free.

  Yeah, if she wasn’t the one in pain, she’d consider it amazing as well. Instead, she merely thought it fucking hurt like hell.

  He moved from one spot to the next, dousing each with solution and dabbing them dry, plucking at bits of grass that remained stubborn. It didn’t take long to rid her of the worst of her injuries, the skin closing and sealing as always, until she was left with mere bruises.

  “What about the rest?” He gestured toward the splotches of purple and green.

  “They’ll heal on their own. My body handles the cuts and scrapes. It leaves everything else to take its natural course.”

  He gently petted a massive swath of purple on her hip. “I hate that they’re here.”

  “I know, me too.”

  Sam reclaimed his position, body keeping her thighs spread and his scent sinking into her pores. “What now? I know what everyone else will want to do. I’m sure your family is aching to launch into battle and your friends are anxious to stand at your side. But what do you want to do? Before they get to you, what’s our next step?”

  “Our?”

  “Our.” He licked his lips, drawing her attention to his mouth. “This is it, Caith. You and me against the world. What’s going on has nothing to do with them.” She opened her mouth. Of course it did. “No, this is your pain. There’s plenty of anger on your behalf, everyone hates that you’re experiencing it, but it belongs to you and me. Whoever did this… They didn’t strike at you, the struck at us. We’re one now and I want you to tell me our next step. They can either join us or leave, but it’s your choice and I will follow you to the ends of the earth. You just have to say the word.”

  “I could lead you into Hell.”

  “Then that’s where we’ll go.”

  So matter of fact. No hesitation, no flicker of unease. He’d simply follow her.
r />   “I want to get clean, but I don’t want to be alone.”

  “I won’t ever leave you alone again.” He gave her a soft kiss, there and gone again. “Which tub?”

  “The one to the right. The soaking tub.”

  Sam stared at her then, blue eyes flickering with a hint of red. “It’s big enough for two.”

  Caith swallowed hard. “It is. I’d like you to stay with me.” She reached for him and plucked a blade of grass from his shirt. “You’re dirty too.”

  Sam nodded, even more red venturing forward. He was easing toward that place, that precipice that separated On High from Hell. One step toward Hell and he’d tumble into her world. Permanently.

  “I’ll start the water. Do you need help undressing?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  Caith breathed deeply, taking in his scent and savoring the musk of his arousal. He wanted her, she knew that, but now he’d have her. And she’d have him.

  Sam moved away, his steps taking him to the tub and she kept her gaze on him as he bent to turn the water on. In a slow flex of muscles, he stood and slid his shirt from his body.

  Fabric removed, he slowly turned to her and held out his hand. “Coming?”

  “Yeah.” She carefully eased from the counter, absorbing the stings of pain that bolted up her leg when she stood on her own. Yes, the injuries were gone, but quite a few aches remained.

  He stared at her, gaze raking over her body and the bulge hidden behind his jeans grew, his cock straining against the fabric.

  When she got close, he grasped her hand and tugged her to him, pulling her close until their bodies were aligned. “Have I told you how beautiful you are? My pretty wolf, my deadly demon…”

  Caith’s wolf howled in approval, tail wagging and soft barks escaping. Their mate wanted them. He’d finally given in and accepted the truth.

  “You’re mine.” She said the words aloud, hoping he’d confirm her statement.

  “I am.”

  Those large hands went to her hips and slid along her waist, to her ribcage, taking her shirt along with his travels. She raised her arms, allowing the cloth to slip free of her body and it gently drifted to the ground.