Only You (UnHallowed Series Book 3)

by Tmonique Stephens

  Bane yanked his shoulder free. No!

  Too much power in one so small, so young. Rimmon knelt beside Amaya, studying her as one studied a dead animal on the highway.

  She’s not dead! Bane shouted through the link.

  Yet, Chay said, standing close. Humans cannot contain the power of celestial beings.

  Rimmon brushed his knuckles across her forehead. She’s a candle caught in a thunderstorm. No matter how brightly she burns, she will be snuffed.

  “No.” Bane stood with Amaya clutched in his arms. What Rimmon said couldn’t be true. Braile wouldn’t do that, not to a human, not to someone entrusted in his care. Neither would Michael. Both were entrusted with humanity’s survival. They wouldn’t use one…yes…they would.

  The end justifies the means. Always has, always would when it came to the Celestial Order. But to take an infant and turn her into—

  Fuck! I won’t lose her. There has to be a way. Michael will find a way to reverse this or—

  Lose the UnHallowed. We stand with you, brother. Daghony said. In turn, each UnHallowed tipped their head.

  Bane had never been more grateful. He looked to Zed. How long does she have?

  That I can’t say. Containing her use of Braile’s power may help.

  We’ll get her back to the farm and let her rest. “Give her to Malphas.” Chay tipped his head at the demon. The Demoni Lord stepped forward ready to accept the burden.

  Violence, at a level he’d never previously experienced, gripped him. “Touch her and I will kill you.”

  Malphas halted. “I have a Villa not far from here. If you keep to the covered walkways, the sun will set by the time you’re in the open. Then it’s only a few miles south of the city.”

  All waited for Bane to nod.

  “Address,” Ioath demanded. Malphas rattled off the street and number. “We’ll scout ahead.” Ioath and Gadreel stepped into the shadows.

  “Lead the way,” Kush ordered, and this time Malphas had no snide reply. He obeyed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “No.” Amaya fought, but her punches were weak, ineffectual. She struck air more than she hit flesh. All of her power had drained out of her. Who did this to her? Their ass was grass as soon as she got to her feet.

  “Just a bit more. Come on. Swallow for me.”

  Why was Bane’s voice so hollow? As if he were miles away and funneled through a long tube. Something wet and salty filled her mouth and she sputtered. What the F— Her fist connected with his cheek, and then her taste buds kicked in.

  Soup. Broth. And it was delicious. She slurped it down, smacking her lips when her mouth emptied.

  “Here is something solid for you.”

  He placed something mushy on her tongue. She rolled it around her mouth until she realized it was mashed potatoes. Fluffy with the right amount of butter and garlic. She swallowed it down and opened her mouth for more. When her stomach was full, she pushed the next spoonful away and snuggled into the mattress and pillows. Lips pressed to her forehead, sending her back to sleep.

  The ritual of feeding happened again and again. At some point, she felt a damp cloth washing her body with a gentle hand. Her lids peeled open a fraction and she saw Bane caring for her when she was too exhausted to care for herself.

  “What happened to me?” she groaned.

  “You’re special, Amaya, not invincible. You’ve pushed yourself too hard. Too fast. You have the powers of an angel and the metabolism of a human. The two aren’t quite compatible. You have to eat and rest or it will happen again.”

  Great! So basically, she was a Kia powered by a Lamborghini engine.

  Memories of arguing with Malphas surfaced. She gasped. “I told him the truth.”

  “Not everything, though enough. You didn’t tell him about Braile, and none of the UnHallowed volunteered the info. We’ll keep it that way.” He stressed we.

  “Where are we on the search?” She struggled to sit up.

  Bane pushed her back onto the bed. She was too weak to put up a fight. “Shhh. Everything is well in hand. You are to sleep.”

  She couldn’t just take a nap when there was so much more to do. “I can’t—” His lips silenced her protest with the softest kiss, and then he climbed into bed next to her. Wrapped in his arms, cocooned in his strength, all of the fight evaporated.

  ~~~~~

  There is a naked man in my bed. Lucky. Lucky. Me.

  Amaya woke to find her head pillowed on a bicep, a heavy hand resting on her bare hip, a hard cock pressed against her ass, and Bane’s earthy scent in her nose.

  The position shouldn’t be possible with her wings, however, they were gone, her back free of the cumbersome burden. Yet, she missed their presence as one would miss a limb

  She eased away from him, his hand tightened on her hip as she shifted to face him. Her breath caught. Asleep, with his face reposed, a delightful childlike innocence clung to his features, even though he was never a child. He’d never spoken of his origins, but she deduced some facts. The Great Betrayal happened early in the time of humans. That could mean he wasn’t born, had no parents, no childhood. It could mean all of the UnHallowed were created as Tahariél described when they spoke over latte and tea. If true, no wonder some of them didn’t give a damn about humanity.

  Not her Bane, though. He cared about humans and about her.

  And she cared about him.

  More than cared.

  Her chest constricted from a sudden pressure. It was too much, too soon. That didn’t stop her from feeling pointless, useless things. Things she’d never expected. She ran the back of her hand down the side of his face, marveling at his sculpted perfection as what she tried to ignore dug deeper roots into her heart.

  “Are you going to stare at me all morning or are you going to kiss me?” Only his lips had moved.

  Amaya giggled, an alien sound even to her ears. People giggle when they’re happy, right? Is that what I am? She could spend the next hour analyzing the bubbly sensation lighting her from within or she could go with it.

  She plastered her lips to his and lost herself to the glide of his tongue, the nip of his teeth, the grip of his hand on her waist. He rolled to his back, taking her with him. Balanced on top of his hard body, she fisted his cock and guided him to her heat. A sharp thrust, a flash of pain, because she wasn’t quite prepared for his size, and he was buried deep. She hissed from the pleasure and the sting.

  “Fuck!” His eyes snapped open, rolled back in his head, and he arched beneath her, thrusting into her body roughly. The passion on his face, the lust, she did that. She made him feel all of that. This was power, and so much more.

  “Good morning,” she purred, staring into his icy, aqua eyes.

  “Best morning ever,” he growled, his big hands on her ass as his hips pistoned.

  Amaya dropped her hands to his pecs, her nails digging in, scoring his chest each time she seated herself—hard—lifting and slamming her hips down. She caught the rhythm and rode him without mercy. He cupped her breasts, rolled her nipples between his fingers with the perfect amount of friction. She moaned, long and loud, each flick of her nipples sent a jolt to her clit, each flex of his hips drove him deeper. Their gazes locked and he was more than just inside her body, he was inside her heart, chipping away a piece at a time. An orgasm snuck up on her, slapped her sideways, and left her a throbbing heap on his chest.

  He held her against him as he continued plunging his body into hers, his thrusts sharp, punctuated by the slap of his balls on her ass on the down stroke. She needed his mouth. So she angled her head and took him in a raw kiss, let him feel what he did to her, what she wanted, and was too afraid to ask.

  He sucked on her tongue and rocked into her, just before he smacked her ass. “Yes. Take what you want.”

  She wanted him as lost within her as she was lost within him. But she couldn’t say that, not yet. Maybe never. Instead, she spun around in reverse cowgirl. She brought her knees up and rode him li
ke a jockey riding a thoroughbred. Her rhythm quicker, shorter, her inner walls sucking his cock into her wet heat.

  “Look up,” he shouted.

  Mirrored tiles decorated the ceiling. She could see his torturous expression every time she lowered her hips, the crimson swallowing his dilated eyes. He ran his hand down her back and she arched into his palm, yet didn’t slow her pace.

  “You are amazing.” He reached under her ass and tapped her clit.

  Her brain turned hazy, lust overtaking her mind. Another orgasm barreled toward her. Not before him. She leaned back, changing the angle of penetration, and slowed the pleasure down, stringing it out.

  “Oh shit!” She couldn’t hold off much longer. Her head fell back and their gazes locked in the mirrors. He was so beautiful. No, they were beautiful. Their straining sweaty bodies moving in synch with the passion driving them.

  He’d rolled her onto her stomach and propped her ass in the air. “Come for me again, Amaya. Come hard.”

  He kicked her legs apart and plunged into her heat. She rocked back, taking his cock any way he wanted to give it to her. He cursed, hissed deep in his throat, shouted something in a language she’d never heard, and buried himself to the hilt. The sharp edge of bliss ripped her apart. She buried her face and screamed as he rung every drop of ecstasy out of her clenching flesh. Then, with a shout of her name, he joined her in the sweet abyss.

  Contentment was her sprawled on top of Bane’s body, making lazy circles around his nipples with her finger. Reality couldn’t wait forever. “Want to tell me where we are?” The brocade wallpaper, red velvet settee, and heavy baroque furniture hadn’t escaped her notice. Plus, the mirrored ceiling, now an accessory she had to add to her bedroom décor.

  “In Mexico, at Malphas’s place. I didn’t want to risk moving you.” He brushed her damp hair away from her face.

  She was tempted to ream him for trusting Malphas enough to stay here, but who was she to second guess him when she was unconscious. “Was I that bad?”

  His expression turned serious, though his touch remained feathery. “We thought so.”

  “We?”

  He nodded solemnly and shifted until she sat on his lap. “Everyone worried like a bunch of old women.” He kissed her, but not like before. His touch had a hint of worry in it, a hint of desperation. “I have to take better care of you.”

  It was the way he said it, not the actual words that grated against her. “I’m not a pet, Bane.”

  His gaze narrowed on her and she could almost see his mind working its way around the minefield he’d stumbled upon. “I never said you were,” he spoke carefully. His hand stroked down her back, petting her, she noted.

  “How long have I been asleep?” Twelve hours was her guesstimate.

  “Three days.”

  She shot up off his lap, but he latched onto her and kept her in place. “Three damn days!”

  “You needed the rest.”

  “Three entire days?”

  “What part of exhaustion do you not understand? Your body shut down. You still have to eat three meals a day, probably more with all the energy you’re expending, and you still have to rest.”

  Loud voices and the sound of something breaking echoed from somewhere. Bane sighed and lifted her off his lap. He climbed out of bed and stretched. All those glorious muscles flexed and contracted in a sensual ripple. He stalked to a shadow waiting in the center of the room, grumbling as he went.

  Amaya propped her chin in her palm and ogled his ass. “Where’s Malphas?” she asked before he vanished. “Is he still here?”

  “The bastard is in the bedroom across the hall.” He halted at the cusp of vanishing and pointed to the settee. “I brought you some clothes from the farm. Shower and get dressed. I’ll have some food for you when you’re done. Then, we should talk.”

  Her brow furrowed. “About what?” Too late, the shadows had already swallowed him.

  Her muscles ached from lack of use and she wobbled a bit on her stroll to the bathroom. The bathroom was a marvel of black marble and gold fixtures everywhere she looked. Gaudy extravagance she hated. Once showered, she dressed in the skinny jeans and loose, flowery blouse—bought on a crazy whim—Bane had brought from her closet. Though she appreciated the effort, the outfit was completely unsuitable for combat. No bra. No panties.

  Oh well. She found her blades on the nightstand and cut two slits in the back of the blouse to accommodate her wings when they made an appearance. They did seem to have a mind of their own. After she dressed, she ate her breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, and orange juice. By the time she downed the last mouthful, she felt alert, orientated, and ready to kick ass.

  And also ready to admit, maybe, just maybe, Bane was right about her eating more. She could stash a few granola bars in her pockets to help with her metabolism. Now, about her resting more, she’d consider it after the Cruor was in her custody.

  She rolled her shoulders, working the kinks out, fidgeting with a restless energy. It didn’t take her long to realize the cause. “You’re extraordinary. You’re amazing,” she mimicked Malphas’s and Bane’s voices. Bullshit. If she couldn’t control her wings and her weapon, she was neither. War made for a steep learning curve. She didn’t have the luxury of taking her time to let Braile’s powers manifest in her body. She needed all of his power, all of his grace at her disposal immediately.

  She stood in the center of the room, her feet braced apart, her palms opened. Though she gazed at her reflection in the dresser mirror, her focus turned inward. Braile had taught of the well in the center of every soul. For some, it was an inky pit. For others, a placid, translucent lake. For Amaya, her lake was a murky hole, backlit by a soft blue light. She was the murk, what Braile had given her, the light.

  Just that tiny amount had made all the difference in her life, changed her from ordinary human to hybrid. Made her an outcast, even though she could still pass for a regular, run-of-the-mill girl, struggling to pay her bills, fall in love, kill a few Darklings…maybe not the last part.

  For much of her life, finding that light hadn’t been easy, even with Braile instructing her. That changed when he left her, when that was all she had of him. Some days that light was the only thing keeping her soul from inking over.

  Amaya sunk deeper into herself, she separated her mind from her body. Next, she let her conscience unravel, and float to the subconscious layer, and then the superconscious layer. Still, she dove deeper, past layers that had no names, because they were undiscovered in the complicated landscape of the human psyche.

  She floated to the bottom of one layer, broke through the protective layer of the next one to free fall. This last layer had terrified her the first time she did this, had almost caused her to veer away. This time, she enjoyed the ride because the next layer, she’d be swimming in her lake, bathed in tranquility, and as close to Braile as she could ever be.

  She broke through the final layer, expecting to splash into cool waters. Instead, she drowned in warm sunlight. It came from everywhere, below, above, right, left. Braille’s grace-filled every square inch of what used to be her lake. If that were the case, why couldn’t she tap into it? All this power lay within her and she couldn’t use it.

  Helpless for three damn days. Lamborghini engine my ass! Here was enough power to launch a mission to Mars. What the fuck!

  A chuckle echoed, sounding suspiciously like Braile.

  Are you here? You’re here, aren’t you! Braile, answer me! Please.

  Silence.

  You…you! Son of a bitch was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t, just couldn’t.

  Uggh! Fine! Don’t help me. I don’t need you. I never did. And I never will again. Braile! Braile?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Amaya simmered. Breaking every stitch of furniture in the room helped dial down her rage, nothing would cool her temper. All this time, Braile was inside of her, a part of her, joined to her soul. Not the tiny bit fused to each cell she was us
ed to, but enough to fill Lake Erie!

  She didn’t know who to be madder at—Michael and Braile for not telling her the truth, or herself. How could she not know when the wings were a dead giveaway? Stupid, distracted…

  At some point between the last time she had a soul-searching moment and today, Braile had hitched a ride. Here she was mourning him, dying inside over his death, wishing she could talk to him, needing his advice, and he was here—within her—all along.

  Watching her flounder and doing nothing about it.

  Watching her.

  Oh, shit! Did he see me and Bane? In bed? In the shower? The blow job!

  Kill. Me. Now.

  Embarrassment clashed with fury. Her cheeks flamed and her stomach threatened a fire drill to evacuate the contents. Just what she needed, chunks of eggs, bacon, and toast decorating the only clothes she had. This was the last damn straw.

  “Michael!” she hissed. “I know you can hear me. You get your butt down here right now!”

  Nothing.

  “You and Braile have manipulated me for the last time! I’m done. You hear me? Done!”

  Nothing.

  No Michael and not even a vague internal chuckle from Braile.

  Amaya buried her fist in the nearest wall, destroying the intricate plaster and gold foil wallpaper. After a long count to twenty, she yanked her arm free and continued on.

  It took another ten minutes of traveling through Malphas’s ginormous house to find everyone in the library. Good thing, because it gave her a chance to wrangle her emotions into a semblance of calm.

  The gang and Malphas were gathered around a glass and chrome oblong table that didn’t quite match the old world stately feeling of the room. Huddled close together in groups of twos and threes, they studied the maps and papers strewn over the surface.

  Everyone except Kushiél. He sulked at the opposite end, near the entrance. Far away from Malphas.