Her Avenging Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 7)

by Felicity Heaton

  Marcus was there before the angel could launch his own attack, shoving him backwards into the four angels of the apocalypse. The men parted to allow him and Lysander through and Marcus flicked his curved blade out at his side, extending the silver engraved handle into a staff that rivalled his six-foot-plus frame. He beat his silver wings to match Lysander as the angel shot backwards, his golden wings working frantically as he attempted to gather himself and gain some space. Marcus didn’t give him a chance and neither did Amelia.

  She kicked off the sand, launching high into the air, and held her hands out before her. A swirling blue orb materialised between her palms, growing as it began to spin faster and faster, the different shades in it blurring together. When it was the size of a basketball, she moved her hands behind it and beat her silver wings hard as she shoved forwards with her hands. She jerked backwards and the orb shot forwards, heading straight for Marcus as he kept Lysander busy dodging swift stabs of his spear.

  As if sensing the approach of the blue orb, Marcus dropped flat on his face and covered his head.

  Lysander looked up, straight at Amelia.

  The blue swirling ball struck him hard in the chest plate and exploded, the blast rocking the island as it created a crater in the sand and hurled Lysander through the air. The angel spun heels over head and lost his blade. It disappeared. He spread his golden wings, twirling two more times before he finally righted himself.

  Lysander pressed a hand to his head and shook it.

  Nevar snarled and dragged Lysia behind him, darkness rushing through his veins as he thought about what the angel had suggested. Amelia was right and he couldn’t allow Lysander to take Lysia to Heaven. Heaven would seek to destroy her in order to protect its realm, even if Lysia wasn’t liable to go nuclear and unleash hell on the three realms. It wouldn’t care, not even if the only pool in Heaven that recorded the future showed that she would live forever without raising a hand against any of the realms. It would view her as a threat regardless and would kill her.

  Nevar would never allow that to happen. His life wasn’t worth much, but he swore on it anyway. He would keep Lysia safe. He would fight the forces of Heaven and Hell, and any army the mortal world could throw at him. He would never relent and never surrender. They would have to kill him if they wanted to get to her.

  He snarled and darkness crawled over his skin, encroaching like shadows at nightfall, devouring the golden tone of his flesh as it gained ground.

  He tried to fight it and hold it back, fearing how Lysia would look at him if she saw the form he despised, the one that shamed him and made him feel like a wretched monster. He had embraced it though, had allowed it to merge with him and had become the darkness, and now it was quick to come whenever he faltered, allowing the black part of his heart to dictate his actions.

  That part screamed at him to protect Lysia and that he was strongest in his other form, when he was one with the darkness and unleashed it. Used it.

  He snarled through his fangs and they grew longer, his lower canines beginning to sharpen too and cut into his gums.

  His black wings took on a violet shimmer that matched the raised edges of his armour, and the skin around his eyes burned into darkness as they switched to purple. He growled, pain tearing through him as his skull ached, his horns growing despite his best efforts to contain them.

  He felt Asmodeus’s gaze on him and Liora’s too, sensed her desire to come to him. He shook his head, warning her away, and snapped at Asmodeus, torn between fighting Lysander and attacking him. He wanted the bitter tang of blood on his tongue. He wanted to gorge himself on the powerful life force of his master and then take down Lysander in the most gruesome way imaginable to satisfy his dark hunger to see the male pay for daring to take Lysia from him.

  To her death.

  Nevar clawed his hair back and breathed hard, redoubling his fight against himself. He couldn’t go all out. If he unleashed that side of himself, there was a chance that he wouldn’t stop at killing Lysander and sending him back to Heaven with his tail between his legs. He would want to continue the fight, wouldn’t be able to resist the sick craving for more blood and violence, for the feel of blows battering his bones and flesh, and the sounds of the anguished cries of his enemies in his ears.

  Calm yourself. Asmodeus’s voice rang in his head and he screwed his face up.

  You think I am not trying? Nevar snarled back at him and wished the bastard could see the wicked things his mind was throwing at him, images of him taking down the King of Demons and finally having the vengeance that had driven him for so long now that he didn’t know anything else or any other way of living.

  “You try to interfere, Nevar, and I swear I have an orb with your name on it.” Amelia’s voice, edged with all the dark rage lacing her incredible power, snapped his focus to her.

  She glared down at him, her wings beating hard to keep her steady a few metres above him, closer to the fire. Her silver eyes swirled like mercury and he read her intent in them. She would follow through with that threat.

  “Protect Lysia,” she said and turned her focus back to Marcus and Lysander where they were battling, both blocking more blows than they landed, carving up the sand with their weapons and their powerful wings.

  Nevar focused on Lysia behind him and placed his hand on her arm, using the feel and the sense of her to calm himself. He had to protect her and that meant he had to keep his head and not go off the rails. She wouldn’t like the other side of him, but her dislike of it would be nothing compared with how she would feel if she saw him attacking people she believed to be his friends. She would never trust him if she witnessed that.

  Amelia began forming another orb of energy.

  The four larger angels who had come with Lysander armed themselves with weapons that blazed with white fire and turned their focus on her.

  Erin tsked and shook her head, her black bob swaying as her golden eyes brightened and red edged them. “Why don’t we keep this a fair grudge match between Team Amelia and Lysander, and you all fuck off.”

  She held her hand out, palm facing them, and the four males’ eyes widened just before they disappeared. She laughed.

  Veiron snickered too, bouncing Dante in his arms as he began to change back from his demonic form, his skin turning from black to tanned golden and his body shrinking back to his normal build.

  Lysia drifted past Nevar without him realising she had moved out from behind him, her hazel eyes locked on the fight unfolding before them.

  Nevar moved forwards and wrapped his fingers around Lysia’s wrist. She gasped and shot to face him, and then blushed when she saw it was him. He drew her to him, tucking her against his side and clutching his sword in his free hand. If Lysander dared to come after her, he would deal with the male as best he could while retaining his normal appearance and he wouldn’t be alone. Something told him everyone on the island would fight to protect Lysia.

  “Where did you send them?” Apollyon asked Erin, watching the fight between Lysander and Amelia with interest, and an intriguing amount of satisfaction. Evidently, Lysander had no friends on the island who would fight on his side, not even the angel who had trained him for six centuries. Everyone seemed to want to see him punished.

  Nevar hadn’t been present for whatever had taken place between Amelia, Marcus and Lysander, but if the angel had been responsible for taking her to Heaven to kill her, then he hoped the bastard got what he deserved.

  “I sent them to Hell,” Erin said with a wide smile. “More precisely, to my father’s fortress.”

  Nevar couldn’t stop himself from smiling too as he pictured how shocked the four angels would be to suddenly find themselves not only in Hell and most likely surrounded by the Hell’s angels working on repairing the Devil’s courtyard, but in the presence of the prince of darkness himself.

  “He will not be pleased,” Asmodeus said and Apollyon nodded in agreement and looked across at his twin.

  “I take it you re
cognised one of them too?”

  Asmodeus dipped his chin. “The white-haired one who threatened Erin. Mihail… my master despises him.”

  “Why?” Nevar found it impossible to hold that question in. He had never heard of the angel before, or of the Devil hating anyone other than Apollyon.

  “While I have to fight the Devil at intervals to decide whether he may leave Hell or will spend the next few centuries trapped in that realm, I cannot kill him. No one can… except Mihail.” Apollyon flinched as Lysander landed a hard blow on Marcus’s jaw, driving the dark-haired former angel into the sand, and Amelia cursed him and unleashed another blue orb that sent Lysander blasting into the water. Apollyon glanced at Nevar. “Mihail and the Devil came to blows many thousands of years ago and Mihail came close to killing him. The Devil will not be pleased to see the angel again, even if this incarnation of him does not remember what he did or that he has such a power.”

  “He will be pissed at you,” Asmodeus said to Erin.

  She shrugged and took Dante from Veiron. The little boy squirmed in her arms and latched onto her neck, sucking furiously.

  “Someone is hungry again. I swear he has your appetite,” she muttered in Veiron’s direction and then looked at Asmodeus and Apollyon. “I don’t care if he kills my father… score one for us. Dante is safe then and I can rule Hell in his place. I am a perfect female replica of him after all.”

  It was true, and she could ascend the throne and rule Hell, but Nevar didn’t think she would be up to the task. As tough as Erin was, she wasn’t strong enough to do the things that were necessary as the ruler of Hell. She was born of a human mother and had a softness about her because of it. She had heart and cared deeply about people.

  As the ruler of Hell, she would have to deal out punishment to mortals who were sent there. It would destroy her.

  Asmodeus grimaced, pressed a hand to his bare chest, and shot Erin a black look. “Pissed may have been putting it too lightly.”

  “Asmodeus?” Liora took his hand, her hazel eyes flooded with concern.

  “I will be back. Remain with your cousin while I help my master deal with a certain angel infestation.” He dropped a kiss on her brow, stepped back and looked over at Nevar.

  Nevar sighed and released Lysia, knowing what the angel was going to say. It was time to go.

  Asmodeus shook his head. “Remain here with Liora and the others. Keep her safe… both of them.”

  Nevar nodded, unable to do anything else while he processed what Asmodeus had asked of him. He had asked Nevar to protect his precious Liora, the woman he had tried to kill in order to strike a blow at Asmodeus. He trusted him with her, and with handling Lysia.

  Asmodeus cast a portal and Apollyon caught his arm.

  “I will go with you. I cannot fight the Devil, but I can fight angels,” Apollyon said and the other male nodded, a glimmer of gratitude in his golden eyes.

  They stepped through the black vortex together and when it disappeared, Serenity moved to stand beside Liora.

  They formed a line as they watched the spectacle unfolding on the island, spectators in an arena. It appeared Lysander was losing against his two opponents, the patches of skin between the pieces of his black leather armour stained with blood. He beat his golden wings and readied his blade as he shot towards Marcus, dark intent and hunger in his icy eyes and the shadow settling across his features again.

  Marcus grinned and casually twirled his spear.

  Amelia created another blue orb where she hovered a few metres above the white sand, her silver wings keeping a leisurely pace that held her stationary.

  Lysander roared as he swung his blade.

  A bright beam of light shot down from the sky, encasing him, and disappeared just as quickly, taking him with it.

  Veiron grunted. “I hate it when Heaven cheats like that.”

  It seemed the show was over but no winner had been declared.

  Amelia unleashed a barrage of curses at the sky and began flying upwards. Marcus caught up with her, grabbing her from behind and taking several blows from her wings as he fought to contain her.

  “Let me go. I want to kill the bastard.” She battered Marcus with her wings but he didn’t release her.

  “You will have your chance… but if you leave, Erin will be vulnerable.”

  That seemed to get through to her and she instantly stilled in his arms, allowing him to gently drift downwards with her. The silver-haired female was breathing hard as they landed softly on the white sand. Lysander hadn’t been the only one to take a few blows. Amelia had a long gash across her thigh and one on her arm, and Marcus had cuts on his stomach and arms.

  Veiron and Einar trudged across the sand to them and began using their two very different powers to heal their wounds, one born of Hell and the other of Heaven. Erin trailed after them, Dante still mouthing her neck as she rubbed his back, and Taylor followed.

  Nevar looked at his new wards. Three of them. Serenity and Liora were deep in conversation and he allowed them to wander a short distance away, drifting towards the group, but kept an eye on them.

  Lysia remained with him.

  He shifted his gaze to her and let everything slowly sink in. He had thought her a demon, one born of Hell, and he supposed she was in a way, but she was so much more than he had thought her to be. This was the beast he had awoken and was now his responsibility. She was made of Asmodeus and Liora, built in their image, and that made the feelings he felt towards her even stranger to him. He was attracted to her, a woman who was in a way their progeny. A woman who was bound to him.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about what he had done as he looked at her, wondering whether she had risen because of his foolish thoughts about her awakening and giving him something to do rather than his boring guard duty. He had contemplated terrible things and had left her chamber, and she had awoken.

  Another monumental fuck up to add to his tally?

  If he hadn’t thought those things, would she have remained dormant?

  He now suspected she had appeared in the mortal world on waking because he had been there. She had found herself in the middle of a strange city because of him, had been frightened by the loud and confusing surroundings because of him, and now she was destined to herald the end of days.

  Because of him.

  And angels were after her, wanting to take her to Heaven and no doubt kill her, all because of him.

  He couldn’t bear the thought of her suffering at the hands of angels again or knowing it was his fault. This was all his fault. He had been weak, taking the easy route in all things, when he should have been strong. He should have fought harder—against Asmodeus, against the darkness, against himself. He couldn’t undo what he had done, and couldn’t change the past, but he could change the future.

  He could change her future and the future of the world. He could save her from the destiny others had set out for her and protect her from those who meant her harm.

  He didn’t see a weapon of destruction standing before him.

  He saw a woman, one who had shown fear and vulnerability, who had been hurt and afraid, and one who had fought to protect those she cared about. She wasn’t a heartless creature bent on destroying the world and everything in it. She was a woman who marvelled at the world, delighted in the smallest things, and wanted to save others.

  She was good, not evil.

  He would stop at nothing to do what was right and good and fight to become a stronger male, one who could right his wrongs and set everything straight again.

  One worthy of the beautiful woman standing before him.

  CHAPTER 10

  Lysia didn’t like the way the others were looking at her now and how they held themselves at a distance. Only Nevar remained close by her side. It had comforted her at first, but over the hours that had passed since the angels had left the island, she had begun to feel differently about his presence because of his behaviour.

  She had studied his reactions t
o the group as they had posed questions and she had answered them, and he had relayed her answers to them in a language that they could understand.

  He acted strangely whenever he had to speak with the King of Demons, who had returned from Hell with his twin, Apollyon, declaring that Heaven had reclaimed the four angels just as everything had been going in the Devil’s favour.

  He also acted strangely whenever he had to speak with the Devil’s daughter, Erin.

  The female in question eyed her closely, a sharp edge to her golden irises.

  “She doesn’t look like the beast we saw on the chamber door,” the black-haired woman said and gently rocked her son in her arms.

  The father, an enormous red-haired brute that she had discovered was formerly a Hell’s angel, cooed over her shoulder at the boy and tickled his cheek, his other arm slung possessively around the waist of his female.

  It was a protective stance, and Nevar didn’t seem to like it. His gaze kept falling to the large hand softly gripping Erin’s hip through her black dress and it darkened whenever it did.

  Why?

  Lysia had a terrible feeling she knew the answer to that question but pretended that she was wrong. He didn’t harbour feelings for the Devil’s daughter.

  “Why don’t you look like the beast?” Erin said to her and she looked away, casting her eyes down at the white sand and scrunching it between her toes.

  “We have been through this. She does not remember,” Nevar replied for her, a biting edge to his tone that he seemed to immediately regret. His voice softened. “I mean… ask her something else. It is pointless going in circles like this.”

  Lysia risked lifting her eyes to his face and wished that she hadn’t when she caught him looking at Erin with a gentleness in his eyes that she had never seen before.