Nemesis: Paranormal Angel Romance (Realm of Flame and Shadow Book 2)

by Christina Phillips

  He hissed between his teeth, as if she had just tossed the vilest insult in his face. It was surreal. In the past she’d never experienced an emotional connection to those long ago dhampirs who’d been slaughtered without mercy. She’d hardly believed the story in any case. But now, facing the man she’d been stupid enough to lower her guard with, the injustice churned through her like corrosive lava.

  They hadn’t deserved to die, simply because an angel took exception to their existence.

  “And you think you’re even remotely capable of exacting such vengeance?” Derision seeped like acid from his words, but she refused to quake before him. “Do you have any idea who you’re up against?”

  “Yes.” She glared at him, trying and failing to ignore the unearthly beauty that radiated from him like a cosmic blast. “Even immortals can die. I’ve killed enough of them.”

  He recoiled, a psychic reaction as physically he didn’t move an inch. But why would her blunt admission shock him? He must know she hunted vampires. And while she didn’t delude herself she could destroy an angel, he was still made of flesh and blood.

  And flesh and blood could always be destroyed.

  He gripped her throat and shoved her back against the wall, her reflexes helpless against his speed. His fingers bit into her flesh, lifting her onto her toes. Instinctively she clutched at his hand, futilely trying to loosen his grip. Yet for all the loathing in his eyes, he didn’t follow through and break her neck.

  “I’m no filthy bloodsucker.” He hissed the words in her face, his gaze locked with hers. “Look on me, dhampir, and tremble at your conceit.”

  The room shimmered and she struggled to refocus. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of passing out. He wasn’t going to snap her neck. He was going to slowly cut off her air supply.

  But it wasn’t lack of oxygen causing her vision to waver. The shimmer was physical, and it surrounded Azrael, but it wasn’t a shimmer at all. Desperately she blinked, trying to clear her mind, but still a rainbow hue distorted reality.

  Her grip slackened. They’re his wings. Beautiful, iridescent wings, as if each feather had been created from heaven itself, a breathtaking vision of harmonious perfection.

  Mesmerized by the glorious sight, she reached out, desperate to touch. To convince herself they were real, that she was still alive—that this wasn’t a mirage brought on by death.

  Faster than a heartbeat, he tossed the phial onto the bed and pinned her hand against the wall above her head. His body was only a whisper from hers. His breath fanned her face. And still his glare drilled into her.

  It would be horribly easy to drown in his eyes and let this sordid fate take its course. But she wouldn’t go down without a fight. All she needed was to distract him for a couple of seconds, so she could pull her stiletto from her boot. Even plunged straight through his heart might not kill him but at least it would make her feel better. For a moment at least, before he decapitated her.

  She tried to speak. But only a soundless gasp emerged.

  His gaze slid to her lips and his grip on her throat relaxed. She flicked the tip of her tongue over her dry lips, and instantly his fingers tightened around hers, pressing her hand more securely against the wall.

  “Do you think to seduce me, even now?” The scorn in his voice flayed her, yet raw lust drenched every word. “You overestimate your charms.”

  She tried to keep her focus on his face. But his wings filled her vision. How could a creature so cruel possess something of such heartbreaking beauty?

  His murderous grasp loosened further, yet he appeared unaware of his concession. Unaware she was no longer on her toes. She hitched in a shallow breath. “I wouldn’t seduce you if my life depended on it.”

  He bared his teeth in a parody of the smile she had once found so irresistible. How easily she’d been deceived. “You weren’t so fastidious before.”

  She still clung onto his hand that clasped her throat, but he was no longer choking her. It was a far from tender touch, but it no longer felt like a prelude to murder.

  “I see you now for what you are.”

  He leaned in closer. So close, his lips all but brushed hers, and his wings enveloped them in a mystical cocoon of iridescence. They might have existed in their own magical world where there was no place for stark reality. A make-believe world where dreams could come true.

  A place that didn’t exist.

  “You always knew what I am.”

  She’d always thought he was more. She’d known he was no vampire and yet he’d reminded her of an immortal. Problem was, she didn’t know that many immortals to compare him with.

  She didn’t have to justify anything to him. He was a bastard, yet her damn treacherous body didn’t care.

  “You’ll never reach your goal through me.” With great effort, she managed to loosen her grip from his hand that encircled her throat and slide her fingers over his wrist. Despicable tremors of need danced over her skin and she gritted her teeth. How could she still want him, even now? Why did she have the insane urge to ask him to explain why he’d massacred those long ago dhampirs? Did she really think he could have a plausible excuse?

  “I’ll reach my goal with or without you.” His hand slid from her throat to cradle her face. It wasn’t a gesture of tenderness. Unearthly power vibrated in the touch of his fingers, and she knew he could crush her jaw as easily as she could crush spun sugar. “You’re expendable.”

  Pain burned through her heart at his callous words. She was a dhampir. She’d lived her entire life knowing she was expendable. But with Azrael, for a few wonderful days, she’d chosen to forget that.

  “Why?” Instead of stealthily reaching for her stiletto she pressed her hand against his heart. Except he didn’t have one. How could he? “Why do you want to wipe us from the face of the Earth?”

  He might not have a heart, but the erratic thud beneath her fingers proved his body wanted hers. Maybe not everything over the last two weeks had been a lie.

  But nothing else had been real.

  “I’ll destroy anything that gets in my way when it comes to defeating Sakarbaal.” He plunged his fingers through her hair, forcing her head back. “And you put yourself in my way.”

  The gold flecks in his eyes glittered, and even though her life hung on a thread the phenomenon captivated. How had she not realized he wasn’t human before? Was it because she had so desperately wanted him to be human that she’d deliberately disregarded the tiny signs?

  A mere mortal could never survive the truth of her existence. And although she wouldn’t survive Azrael’s wrath at least he was a worthy opponent for Sakarbaal.

  “So you plan to murder me the way you murdered those dhampirs in Romania?” It was hard to breathe with him towering over her and her senses flooded with the raw, sensual essence of Azrael. She harnessed her focus and injected all the contempt she could into her accusation. “Coward.”

  A dark, dangerous emotion shifted in those gold-flecked eyes. Why was he offended by her comment? He’d made it clear she meant less than nothing to him.

  “It was a battle.” He growled the words in her face, and she had the strangest sensation he was trying to convince himself as much as her. Stop making excuses for him. He had no feelings, no remorse, and he had as good as told her she was next on his hit list. “And you deserve to die for what you are.”

  Chapter 21

  Rowan

  “Kill me, then.” She glared at him and wrapped her leg around his thigh, bringing her concealed stiletto within reach. Let him think she was hell bent on seducing him, when her only goal was escape. “Look me in the eyes as you murder another unarmed dhampir, Angel of Death.”

  “Unarmed?” His laugh was derisive and in the split second she drew her stiletto from her boot, he knocked it from her grasp in a move so lightning fast she was stunned. “Now you’re unarmed, dhampir.”

  He gripped her throbbing wrist and dragged her arm over her head. Mortification scorched through
her that he’d deflected her attack so easily. Had she really imagined she stood a chance against him?

  His body melded to hers, as though they were lovers and not the deadliest of enemies. Effortlessly he manacled her wrists with one hand. Her infuriated struggles didn’t impede him in the slightest.

  “And that’s how you like it, isn’t it?” It was a pathetic response, but she couldn’t stay silent while he meted out his twisted form of justice. She wasn’t used to being so defenseless and now her stiletto was gone so too was her last hope of inflicting injury.

  “I’ve no desire for you to stab me in the back twice.”

  “I wasn’t aiming for your back.”

  “What were you aiming for? Castration?”

  His nonexistent heart had been her target. But let him think what he liked. “Give me back my stiletto and I’ll show you.”

  “I have a better idea.” His eyes glittered and the breath stalled in her throat. Why did she still crave his touch, when all he wanted was her death? “Dump the pretty façade you’ve shown me over the last two weeks and fuck me as you really are.”

  Primal need speared through her. How could her body betray her so brutally? “I’d rather die.”

  “That can be arranged.”

  “What are you waiting for?” If he expected her to fall apart in terror, he was going to be disappointed. She wouldn’t beg for mercy when he possessed none.

  “Don’t usually hang around once the target guesses the truth?” He made it sound like a question, instead of a statement. How often did he do this kind of thing? It hadn’t crossed her mind he’d made a career of it. Another piece of her broken heart crumbled to dust.

  When she’d been a child, she’d day-dreamed of mythical angels because they were so beautiful and pure and good. Everything that she wasn’t.

  How wrong she’d been.

  “I suppose that’s because they’re usually dead by now.” She spat the accusation at him. Azrael literally held her life in his hands. She should be dead by now. She wasn’t that stupid. But he was deliberately keeping her alive because, despite everything, he still lusted for her.

  Could she use that to her advantage? Corrupt the one, perfect thing in her life into something cheap and sleazy?

  Get real.

  It had never been beautiful or special, except inside her imagination. If having sex with Azrael offered a chance of escape, she’d grab it with both hands. To hell with tarnishing her memories.

  They were already defiled.

  “Necrophilia not to your liking?” He was so close they could kiss. Heady arousal thrummed between them and she stirred restlessly, her body brushing his. Torture. He sucked in a harsh breath but didn’t pull back. “Doesn’t fucking vampires amount to the same thing?”

  “I wouldn’t know.” Her gaze roamed over his face, searching futilely for a chink in his armor. There was none. She turned his accusation back at him. “Does it?”

  His wings wrapped around her, obscuring the room in a luminous rainbow hue. The tips of his feathers brushed her naked thighs and caressed her imprisoned arms. She ached to touch his wings, to inhale their evocative, otherworldly scent. Was he attempting to hypnotize her?

  “I wouldn’t know.” His mocking voice echoed her words. “The nearest I’ve come to screwing the dead is fucking a dhampir.”

  She flinched. His words shouldn’t hurt her, but they did.

  “And you couldn’t get enough.” She arched her back and pressed her breasts against his granite hard chest. He retaliated by crushing her against the wall. Tension swirled, deadly and addictive. “You still can’t get enough of me, no matter how much you hate me.”

  “That makes two of us.” His uneven breath meshed with hers. “Admit it. You want me.”

  Yes. It was a pitiful cry wrenched from the deepest recess of her heart. But she wanted something that had never existed. Here, now, there was nothing but sex and survival at stake.

  She had to keep her eye on the prize, no matter how unlikely it might be. Freedom.

  But she still couldn’t lie, even to save her own skin. “You aren’t capable of giving me what I want.”

  He cupped her butt in a possessive gesture and primal need shuddered through her. With a low growl, he ripped off her thong, the delicate material shredding beneath his touch. “I gave you what you wanted for the last two weeks. Tonight is fucking payback.”

  She brushed her cheek against his and breathed into his ear. “You wish.”

  His jaw clenched and he inhaled a ragged breath. “Be careful, dhampir.”

  “Or what?” she said. His stubble grazed her skin and she embraced it. “Your threats mean nothing to me.”

  His palm trailed over her thigh, a sensual, deceptive caress. She couldn’t afford to forget this didn’t mean a thing to him. But it was hard to think at all when his finger dipped inside her and then teased her swollen clit.

  “I don’t make threats.”

  Desire swirled, clouding her reason. “Prove it.”

  Conflicting emotion swirled in his eyes, but he didn’t rise to her challenge. It was obvious he hated the fact he still desired her. That he wanted her to beg before he surrendered to his lust.

  She wouldn’t allow him to win this final confrontation between them. Her lips drew back, and she hissed between her teeth. “I dare you.”

  He wrenched open his pants before gripping her butt and lifting her off the floor. She gasped, desperate for him and not caring that he knew it, and with one savage thrust he invaded her willing body. She slammed against the wall with the force of his possession and for a fleeting moment saw eternity reflected in his eyes.

  So many times, she’d fantasized about having sex with him without using protection. But none of them matched the reality.

  She could feel every inch of him inside her. Hot, naked flesh. A primitive connection, skin against skin, stretching her so deliciously that she trembled on the edge of pain.

  Even now, when her life hung in the balance, it was more than a fuck. She couldn’t forget all the good times and laughter she’d shared with him. Even if they’d been nothing more than a lie.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, so she didn’t have to witness his satisfaction should he realize the truth, and wrapped her legs around his hips in a vise that would crush a mortal man.

  She’d take everything she could from him. And keep it locked deep inside.

  Azrael

  Azrael gritted his teeth in a futile attempt to regain control. It’s all about control. For two weeks this fucking dhampir had led him by the cock and driven him beyond anything he’d experienced before. How many others had she driven to the edge? How many others had she fucked before handing over to Sakarbaal?

  “Look at me.” It was a harsh command and she didn’t obey. Frustration ripped through him, but it was more than frustration, more than base lust. And gods, the lust was bad enough. He’d taken countless females without using protection. But it had never felt like this before.

  She grasped him so tightly, insanity flickered on the starless horizon. Every tiny tremor caressed his shaft, the sensation of naked flesh a silken condemnation. Her evocative scent invaded, slithering through his senses like a malignant serpent, paralyzing his thirst for vengeance. All he wanted was to fuck her, hard and fast, and then finish her. But all he could do was stand there, impaled in her deceptively desirable body, as though he was the captive at her mercy.

  A primitive growl burned his throat and he tightened his grip on her wrists. He should have eliminated her the second she’d admitted her guilt. But he hadn’t, because he couldn’t. And the only reason he couldn’t was because he’d wanted her one last time.

  To fuck her while knowing what she really was. The disgust would consume him and obliterate the lingering remnants of desire that still smoldered.

  “Dhampir.” The word polluted his mind, corroded his soul. He glared at her face and all he could see was her ethereal beauty and the way her lips clamped toge
ther in disgust.

  She didn’t look like a dhampir. Sure as hell didn’t smell like one. But it had been nine hundred years since he’d last encountered one. They had evolved beyond anything he might have imagined in his worst nightmares.

  The rage pounded through his blood and he rammed into her. Exquisite pleasure spiraled through his cock and splintered low in his groin. Her lips parted, a hellish invitation, and her uneven breath feathered his jaw in seductive temptation.

  I’m in control. But beneath the pounding of his heart and the hammering of his blood, it was a hollow affirmation. Because he couldn’t control the way she made him feel. Couldn’t banish the fury that shredded his pride at the knowledge he’d been so utterly deceived by her façade.

  Except it wasn’t fury and it was more than his pride. Long ago he’d vowed never to trust again. Never to believe in anyone as he’d once believed in his goddess. Yet Rowan had infiltrated his armor, destroying it from the inside out and he hadn’t even known it. She might not have been in his visions where Sakarbaal ravaged the Earth. But he’d been blind to the truth, regardless.

  His wings cocooned them, and she looked so innocent, cradled in his iridescent feathers. How many times had he wanted to do this? How many times had he imagined the wonder, the awe on her face when he did?

  A harsh laugh flayed his throat. She couldn’t even look at him. His wings meant nothing to her. But even that knowledge did nothing to dampen his lust.

  “Angel.” It was a whispered curse, yet she still didn’t open her eyes. He rocked into her, felt her internal muscles convulse around him, and it was electrifying. Her lips beckoned, and he nearly succumbed.

  But he’d never willingly kiss a creature of Sakarbaal’s.

  “You’re wrong.” He couldn’t help it, and his mouth grazed hers. She was created from darkness, yet she tasted of sunlight. “I’m an archangel. And I don’t take prisoners.”

  Chapter 22