Knight's Redemption (Knights of Hell Book 1)

by Sherilee Gray

  His plea melted her, and right then she wanted nothing more than to tell him how much she loved him, how amazing he was. Instead she said, “Since you asked so nicely.”

  Cupping his balls, she closed her lips over the head of his cock and took in as much of him as she could, moving up and down the velvety shaft with sucking pulls.

  He lifted his hips like he had no control, thrusting into her mouth, and all the while he groaned out hot, tender, filthy things that had her squeezing her legs together to relieve the deep ache inside.

  The musky, dark scent of him was driving her wild and then he fisted her hair tighter, his groans increasing. She moaned around him, loving how out of control he was.

  He stilled suddenly, his spine torqued, muscles bunching. His massive body started to shake then he released a shout, her name groaned past his lips over and over. She didn’t let go when he tried to pull away, and swallowed down everything he had.

  Finally, she released his cock and looked up at him with a grin. His large body was trembling, and when his gaze captured hers, burned into her, her grin disappeared. She still held him in her hand and she squeezed her thighs together when she realized he hadn’t softened at all.

  “Come here,” he rasped.

  Eve crawled up his body, beyond desperate to have him inside her, and straddled his hips. He reached down, brushing his thumb over her clit. “Ride me, Eve.”

  Her gaze darted up to meet his. Clear, pale green stared back and her heart soared. She rose up, unable to wait another second, and sank down, taking him to the hilt. God, he made her so full. She moaned, her head falling back.

  “Eve…fuck.”

  His big body shook beneath her while his thumb continued to work between her thighs as she rode him slow and easy.

  Eve was lost to sensation, the feel of him deep inside, the sound of skin meeting skin, the harsh sounds of their panted breaths. He thrust up, silently demanding she increase the pace, and, whimpering, Eve gave him what he needed, what they both needed.

  The tension inside her built in delicious waves, and she slammed down hard, taking him as deep as he could go. He hissed and held her to him, grinding up.

  Light exploded behind her eyes, and she held on tight. Lazarus’s fingers dug into her ass, holding on to her, and he thrust up harder. “That’s it, come for me.” His voice was nothing but a growl.

  Pleasure lit up every nerve ending in her body and she threw her head back and screamed, vaguely aware of Lazarus stiffening beneath her.

  The last thing she remembered after collapsing on top of him, and before sleep dragged her under, was of Lazarus wrapping his big, warm body around hers and holding her close.

  Eve woke feeling warm and snug, and a little groggy.

  The warmth was radiating from the big male pressed to her side. His features were smooth and relaxed in sleep, lacking the tortured expression he often wore like a fierce mask. A state that would disappear as soon as he woke and headed back out in search of Tobias.

  He was wrapped around her, cocooning her in his arms. A large palm rested against her belly, his face buried in her hair at her neck, his legs tangled with hers. He’d pulled her in tighter during sleep, and the entire length of his body was pressed against her.

  An ache started in the center of her chest. Being with him like this felt good, too good. How would she move on without him when the time came?

  Her stomach growled so loud she was surprised she didn’t wake him. Lazarus didn’t stir. Her empty belly was no doubt the reason she’d woken, and as much as she wanted to ignore it and stay under the covers surrounded by Lazarus, she knew he’d need to refuel as well when he woke.

  Lifting his hand carefully from around her waist, she slipped from beneath the covers, and quickly dressed.

  She headed to the kitchen, and after making enough sandwiches for the two of them, she headed downstairs to the bar to grab a couple of Cokes for a much-needed sugar hit.

  The sound of the delivery door buzzer stopped her in her tracks. She waited, not sure what to do. Then Brent, muttering to himself, pounded down the stairs. The buzzer went off again and he cursed.

  “Hang on, I’m coming,” he called, followed by the sound of the other demi-demon disengaging the numerous locks.

  Eve didn’t hang around and headed toward the stairs. She hit the first landing when a sharp cry rang out, followed by a heavy thump. Putting the drinks on the ground, she raced back down the steps.

  Brent lay prone on the ground, his motionless body propping the delivery door open. There was a deep gash across his temple, leaking blood onto the mat. “Brent!”

  She rushed over and crouched down beside him, feeling for his pulse. Still alive. He wasn’t moving, was barely conscious, but she could hear his thoughts loud and clear.

  Demon. Demon. Demon.

  Oh God. She had to get him away from the open door.

  In a panic, she grabbed Brent’s arm and tried to drag him in enough so she could shut it. This place was warded, Lazarus and Brent had both told her that. She just needed to get Brent out of striking distance and he’d be safe.

  A man stepped into view and Eve scrambled back, terror tightening her vocal cords, making it impossible to scream. His gaze lifted to hers and he smiled. Dread slithered up her spine and she stumbled back farther when he shoved the door wider and thrust his hand inside.

  The screech he let loose lifted goose bumps all over her skin when he broke through the protective ward surrounding the building then yanked the hand back out quickly.

  Demon.

  It couldn’t get through the wards, not without injuring, maybe even killing itself. But Brent was at an odd angle, and he’d slipped down the wall, God, so close to falling outside. The demon would kill him if he got the chance, she had no doubt about that.

  There was no time to get Lazarus, so ignoring her terror, she ran back, grabbed Brent’s arm and tried to drag him away from the door again.

  The demon watched her, hissing with rage. Brent was heavy and she tugged harder on his arm. As he finally fell toward her, one of his legs straightened and his foot slid outside. The demon dove for it. Eve fell forward, grabbed hold of his leg, and jerked it out of reach.

  The demon’s eyes were milky white, locked on her. Eve started to scramble back, but it shoved its hand inside again, over Brent’s unconscious body, shrieking in pain but not pulling back this time.

  The skin peeled from its arm like it’d dipped it in acid, exposing raw flesh.

  Eve froze in horror. Everything around her seemed to move in slow motion. She realized too late that she was in striking distance and there was no way she could get back out of its reach in time. The demon grabbed her by the hair and yanked her hard. She fell onto Brent’s legs, and the impact knocked the wind from her lungs. Right then, she was struggling to take in a breath, let alone scream for help.

  She reached up and tried to loosen its grip, but her fingers slipped against blood and gore. It hissed in pain but didn’t let go, and dragged her through the door, hauling her to her feet. She sucked in a breath to scream, but the demon slapped its uninjured hand over her mouth, stifling the scream she was about to let loose.

  Still holding her tight, it began to vibrate. Its body shuddered and began to change, taking its Orthon form.

  No. Oh God, no.

  A gray claw was clasped around her wrist like a manacle, and it hauled her toward the mouth of the alleyway.

  She turned back to the open door of the club a few short feet away. Brent was struggling to stand, but he’d taken a serious blow, and collapsed to the ground again. She glanced up to the second-story windows. Lazarus was up there, but he might as well have been on the other side of the world.

  Eve tore at its gray flesh with her fingernails, fighting with everything she had. But no matter how hard she fought, she couldn’t break loose, couldn’t make a sound.

  The creature’s cold fingers pressed against her lips and she shook her head trying to free he
r mouth, but it held tight. She bit down as hard as she could, and the demon hissed, striking her across the face.

  Pain exploded through her head, her skin stinging from the long claws that had cut into her flesh. She ignored the pain and tried to pull free, to run.

  It caught her back up and started dragging her again.

  A long silver car pulled to a stop in front of her. The creature beside her shifted forms again and was back to looking like a human male.

  It yanked the door open, forced her inside, and closed her in. She grabbed for the handle and tugged at it, but it wouldn’t open no matter how hard she tried. The car began to ease from the curb.

  She cried out and pounded on the window as the club, and Lazarus, got farther and farther away.

  “You must be Eve,” a rough voice said.

  Eve spun around. She hadn’t even noticed anyone else in the car with her, too desperate to escape. A man sat beside her, and as he leaned forward, the sunlight streaming through the window highlighted his features. He was striking, chiseled, almost too good looking. Not as hard as Lazarus, but there was an unmistakable cruelty behind his unearthly coal-black eyes.

  Definitely not human.

  “What do you want with me?” she said, panic clear in her voice.

  “I’m Tobias,” he said. “You may have heard of me?” He grinned. “Nice to finally meet you.”

  He searched her face, for what she didn’t know, before he said, “I look forward to getting to know you a lot better.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell…but everything went black.

  Chapter 24

  Lazarus came awake with a start and automatically reached out, searching for Eve, only to find the sheet still warm from her body but the space beside him empty. He tensed then shook his head at his own behavior, forcing his muscles to relax.

  She couldn’t even go to the bathroom without him worrying…missing her.

  Shit, Lazarus had lain himself bare before her last night, and instead of turning her back on him, she’d embraced him, kissed him…loved him.

  Eve had opened herself to him while they’d made love, had given herself over so sweetly. Fighting the link that would bind them together forever had been so damn hard, but he had, because he wanted Eve to know exactly what was happening when they took it there. He wanted her to experience it with him, every moment.

  Now he just had to figure out how to ask her. Did he go the human route: romantic dinner? Eve had believed herself to be human for most of her life. Is that what she’d want? Should he get down on one knee and give her a piece of jewelry? Fucked if he knew, but he wanted it to be special.

  He rubbed his hands over his face and let out a shaky breath. He’d get down on his goddamn knees and beg her to accept him if he had to. After losing Scarlet, he’d believed he didn’t deserve happiness, that he deserved the pain of losing his own mate just like Tobias, and maybe that was still true, but in punishing himself he was hurting Eve as well.

  He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. She was all that mattered.

  She was everything.

  Screw romantic dinners and human traditions. As soon as she returned he’d ask her to be his. He would make her his.

  He lay there for several minutes more, getting impatient. His hearing was exceptional and he closed her eyes and used his senses to search her out. Nothing. Silence.

  Heavy, empty silence.

  Ripping the covers back, he practically flew out of bed.

  Something was wrong. He knew it, felt it.

  After yanking on his jeans, he pounded down the stairs to the bar, and nearly tripped over a couple of drinks sitting on one of the lower steps. He picked up one of the cans. Ice cold.

  She’d been down here, and something had disturbed her before she made it back to him.

  Brent stumbled into view, clutching his bleeding head. “I’m sorry, Laz. Jesus, I’m so sorry,” he gasped.

  “Eve,” he barked out.

  “Gone,” Brent choked.

  “No.” He shook his head. “Fuck that.” He grabbed the other male and shook the shit out of him. “Where is she? Where the fuck is she?”

  “They took her. They fucking took her.”

  The delivery entrance door hung open and Lazarus ran out into the alley. This couldn’t be happening. He instantly picked up the familiar lingering scent, the unmistakable stench of Orthon, foul and evil.

  A roar ripped from his throat, and he clung to the wall. It was either that or fall to his knees. He had failed her. She was in the hands of his enemy, at the mercy of beings that didn’t know the meaning of the word.

  Forcing oxygen back into his lungs, he tried to calm himself enough to think. He pushed through the door, pounded back up the stairs to their room, and strapped on his blades.

  He had to believe she would be okay; that he would get to her in time. Anything else was unacceptable. Tobias had taken Eve, an innocent in all this. The bastard wouldn’t care, too far gone for rational thought. Revenge was all Tobias cared about. He wanted to take Eve from him permanently.

  Rising panic took over. His demon wanted blood, screamed out for Eve, fought to take over Lazarus, but his rage helped fight his demon back. The bond, now stronger than ever, between him and Eve helped him keep control, the male desperate to find his mate.

  Brent was waiting for him when he came back down. “I’ve called the others.” He was leaning heavily on the doorframe.

  Laz didn’t answer, couldn’t even if he wanted to. He nodded and headed down to the alleyway. As soon as the cool air and the stench of garbage mixed with the lingering scent of Orthon hit him, he realized he had no fucking clue where to start. With her still wearing the amulet, he couldn’t track her, couldn’t sense her power.

  Not knowing what the fuck to do, he called for Silas. He called the fucker until his voice was raw. The angel never came.

  In the end, not knowing what else to do, Lazarus took to the skies, circling, desperate for anything, any sign of Eve or Tobias.

  He was standing on top of an apartment building, with no idea how much time had passed, when the sound of several pairs of boots hitting concrete had Lazarus looking up from the streets below.

  Gunner, Rocco, Zenon, and Chaos stood there, wings tucked into their backs, crowding the rooftop.

  “Fuck, Laz,” Rocco said, strain clear in his voice.

  Lazarus didn’t want sympathy. He wanted to find Eve.

  “You sure it was Tobias?” Gunner asked.

  Chaos stepped forward. “It had to be.”

  Lazarus shoved his fingers though his hair. “Where the fuck would he take her?”

  That’s when it sunk in: the real reason Silas chose not to fill him in on what Eve was, why he kept it a secret. He’d used her as bait. Diemos had felt her, too, when she came into her powers. Of course he did. The daughter of a handmaid, a way to release all the horrors of Hell on Earth, and a true escape for the demon after being unable to leave for centuries.

  The angel knew Diemos would send Tobias after Eve.

  Bringing him right to Lazarus. Making it easier for him to kill his brother.

  Well, Silas’s plan had fucking backfired, and Lazarus was going to end the fucker when he saw him next.

  “Do you have something with her scent on it?” Gunner said. “We can take it to Warrick.”

  Warrick was a friend of Gunner’s and a ranking hellhound in his pack. He was also one of the best trackers the hounds had.

  Lazarus went back to the club, to their room. The entire apartment was filled with her scent, sweet and delicate. He picked up her shirt, the one she’d been wearing last night, and he held it to his nose, breathing in deeply. His demon cried out, wanted to maim, to kill.

  For once they were in full accord.

  The hounds had set up in Linville, New Jersey, population 3007. Now they ran the place. People here thought they were just another motorcycle club. They had no clue about the monsters they had on their doorst
ep. The hounds owned the local bar and ran a garage out of the old factory they’d moved into when they liberated themselves from Hell.

  They hired themselves out as mercenaries. Loyal to no one. Lazarus didn’t blame them, not after the way they were treated by Diemos and his brethren.

  It took two hours to reach the clubhouse. Wing power cut the trip shorter, but coming here still meant losing time they didn’t have.

  The place was impressive. On the surface, it looked like what it was: a run-down factory, and with their patch painted on one of the outside walls, a motorcycle club. But inside, underground, there was a whole lot more.

  The pack was big, and that was made more obvious by the number of bikes lined up outside the main doors.

  Lazarus landed first, his brothers close behind. Gunner moved ahead, leading them toward the entrance of the clubhouse. A snarl came from behind them, so loud and deep it seemed to vibrate through their feet. Then another from the side.

  In moments, they were surrounded by the hounds. They were in their human forms, no claws or massive jaws on display, but that didn’t make the large males and several females any less dangerous.

  “We’re here to see Warrick,” Gunner said.

  One of the males broke away and moved closer. “You know better than to come here like this, Gunner,” he growled. “You use wings to breach our clubhouse without an invite, you get them torn off.”

  Zenon growled as well, his yellow eyes near glowing, fury radiating off him. “Fucking try it,” he rumbled.

  “Rein it in,” Chaos said to Zenon.

  “You know I have respect for the pack,” Gunner said. “But we need Warrick’s help and we’re running out of time.” He motioned to Lazarus. “His mate was taken by Diemos. We need to track her before it’s too late.”

  More growls and vicious curses rang out around them. They hated Diemos almost as much as the knights. After Lucifer was overthrown, leaving Diemos in charge, he had treated the hounds like shit, had used them, forced them to do a lot of things they sure as hell didn’t like, which was why they’d finally left as soon as they got the chance.