The Redemption Series

by Melynda Price

  “You promise?” he growled, his black brow arching sardonically. The wicked grin tugging at his top lip made him appear fearsomely dangerous, and oh hell, even she had to admit it, stunningly sexy in an I-just-might-devour-you-after-I-make-love-to-you sort of way. Poor Rebecca…

  “Niall!” the woman chided, sounding properly offended.

  He chuckled darkly. “All right, all right... The Seer is correct. We don’t sleep. But we can, however, reach a state of total exhaustion where our bodies enter a form of stasis. We’re nigh impossible to rouse until our energy is restored. We eat and drink for pleasure only. Our nutritional demands—our strength—comes from supernatural power. It’s dangerous to become this depleted because, well, as you can see, we’re vulnerable to attack. But essentially, you did break him. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”

  “When?”

  Niall scowled. “How would I know? Probably sometime between, ‘Don’t stop, don’t stop’… and ‘Oh, Liam!’”

  “Niall!” Rebecca gasped, sounding completely scandalized.

  Damn, Olivia hated this angel. Was it a sin to loathe one of God’s creatures?—because she held zero affection for this brute. “Ass…” she grumbled under her breath. “When will he be ‘fine’?” Olivia clarified through clenched teeth, struggling to reign in her temper, refusing to let him get the better of her.

  “Oh,” he said, feigning ignorance, “that... It depends.” He shrugged negligently. “Twenty-four, thirty-six hours…”

  Great—two, maybe three more days of living under the same roof with this snarky angel? Just fucking fantastic...

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-four hours came and went, yet Liam showed no signs of life beyond the slow beat of his heart and the shallow breaths that barely raised his chest. And she checked—often. Not only in concern for him, as she was seriously starting to doubt Niall’s word, but she was going stir-crazy, confining herself to her room each evening to avoid any more unwelcomed run-ins with the dark angel.

  The days passed quickly enough. After a few good meals, her strength had quickly returned. Aside from being a bit off from time to time, which was nothing a cup of ginger tea couldn’t fix, for the most part she felt pretty normal. Each day, she and Rebecca worked in the garden together, tending the orchard and taking their lunch on the balcony. She’d become genuinely fond of the woman and enjoyed the opportunity to get to know her better.

  Niall stayed away during the day, busy helping Henry with whatever it was they did. Each evening just before supper, he returned to the house, where they would all take their final meal and then he and Rebecca would spend the evening together.

  She’d yet to ask the woman what she saw in the rogue angel—honestly, the curiosity was killing her, but she and Rebecca were not yet so comfortable in their friendship where one could ask the burning question: “What on earth are you thinking?”

  There was no denying Niall was a war-hardened male with a droll sense of humor who seemed to think mincing words was a waste of time, and tact an unnecessary hindrance. Just because he couldn’t lie, did not mean he needed to speak the truth so freely. His mere presence exuded power and authority that made him—well…dangerous. And Olivia had no doubt he was that. But for some unknown reason, Rebecca loved him—deeply. And though it was near impossible to imagine Niall capable of returning such emotions, she had no doubt that he loved her as well.

  Pacing the path from the balcony to the door for what must have been the one-hundredth time, Olivia stopped, once again, beside the bed and attempted to rouse Liam. Unsuccessful and restlessly irritable, she left the room in lieu of an evening stroll. Unsure of where Niall and Rebecca were, and out of respect for their privacy, she quietly slipped down the stairs and out the back door.

  The moonlight illuminated the path leading around the back of the house and down to the orchard. Standing at the edge of the porch, she tipped her head back, staring into the clear, star-filled sky. She hoped and prayed that after everything they’d been through, she and Liam could finally find the happiness they deserved together. Or would the universe continue to conspire against them?

  Heaving a heavy-hearted sigh, she descended the steps and crossed the driveway. Deep in thought, she walked along the path without seeing, placing one unhurried foot in front of the other. She was nearly past the stables when the clatter of chains, accompanied by a horse’s whinnied cry, echoed from the stalls.

  For a brief moment, she considered returning to the house and getting Niall, but she didn’t want to disturb him and Rebecca if it turned out to be nothing. Curling her fingers around the cool metal ring, she pulled. The door rattled against its hinges but did not budge. The noise she made seemed to incite the pounding inside, and the thrashing of chains renewed her efforts to check on the distressed animal. With another shoulder-jarring yank, the door budged loose, and with both hands tightly gripping the handle, Olivia stepped back, pulling it open.

  Moonlight spilled into the doorway, providing a soft glow down the walkway. Stalls lined both sides of the path, stretching far into the darkness. As Olivia stepped inside, the horse blew a powerful blast of breath from its lungs, a snort that seemed to belay more warning than distress. A chill of unease shivered up her spine and she almost turned back, when the thrash of chains started up again. The horse was clearly caught, perhaps injured and suffering, for all the racket it caused.

  She grabbed the lantern off the hook by the door and turned the dial. Light bloomed from the glass canister as she stretched her arm out in front of her, attempting to forecast light down the long aisle. She stepped forward hesitantly, past the first set of empty stalls. The thrashing stopped. The wheeze from the horse’s puffed exhales belayed its mounting fatigue.

  “Shh….” she whispered softly, attempting to soothe the poor beast. “It’s all right.”

  A startled jolt and the brisk rustle of chains sounded from the back stall shrouded in darkness—then silence. Passing the second set of stalls, she held her lantern high, checking for the other horses. Steel bars ran floor to ceiling, caging all four sides—not the warm, inviting wood-paneled cozies she’d expected to find.

  As she continued on, the only sound breaking the silence was the soft scuff of her shoes against the hard-packed earth. The horse’s breaths ceased their laborious panting, as if waiting in silence for its approaching savior. She just hoped when she got there, the animal wouldn’t be too far caught up for her to help free it.

  Stepping into view of the next stall, she held the light high and swung her arm to the right—empty. She swung it to the left and a startled gasp caught in her throat. The lantern fell from her grasp and shattered on the hard-packed earth, extinguishing the little light, leaving her in total darkness.

  Before Olivia could leap back, the beast lunged, chains clashing at their tether. A scream ripped from her lungs. The shrill cry abruptly cut off as a claw-tipped hand grabbed her by the throat and yanked her forward. She crashed against the cell, cheek slamming into the unforgiving metal. Her breasts crushed against the bars so tight, she couldn’t draw breath to scream.

  She closed her eyes against the blast of hot, sulfurous breath as the creature bellowed in her face. Her stomach lurched as she reached up, clawing at the hand, trying to break free of the unrelenting grip choking off her air. It tightened with her struggles, nails digging into her flesh. She knew the beast was toying with her, savoring the thrill of slowly choking the life out of her.

  Olivia’s heart thundered inside her chest, pounding in her ears until all else was nothing but a distant echo. The pressure in her eyes was excruciating, her vision blurring. Suddenly, a bright light blinded her. A snarl echoed in the distance an instant before she was jerked back a scant breath from the bars. She drew the slightest gasp of air when, without warning, the flash of blackened steel swiped in front of her face, a faint breeze brushing her nose, and then she was free.

  A horrendous roar filled the air as a jet of hot, black liquid splat
tered Olivia’s throat and pumped against her chest. Burning pain seared her skin. She would have screamed, but all sound was trapped in her throat by the demon’s hand still clutching her throat. She fell back, hitting the ground with a thump that would have knocked the air from her lungs had she any to spare.

  Despite the fact that the hand was now severed from its owner, the grip did not ease, nor did the incessant wailing of the beast cease. Olivia reached up, struggling to pry the hand free, unable to draw breath into her air-starved lungs.

  Forcing her eyes to focus through the haze of darkness quickly encroaching, she looked up, meeting the steely gaze of the menacing angel hovering over her. A nasty curse ripped from the warrior’s throat as he sheathed his sword and knelt beside her. Niall briskly knocked her hands aside and, gripping the beast’s severed hand, pried it loose with little effort, tossing the offending extremity aside as if it were nothing more than a useless piece of trash.

  The thing bounced a few times before skidding into the dirt, claw-tipped fingers flexing and curling, nails scraping into the ground as the gruesome hand found leverage and slowly inched away like some sick version of the Addams Family. Bile surged up the back of her throat as she desperately fought back the urge to vomit. Seemingly unfazed by the horror show, Niall stood, walked over to the creeping hand, and stomped his heel into it as if he were squishing a troublesome spider.

  The bones crunched beneath his booted foot, fingers shooting straight out before lifelessly falling to the ground. With a final grinding twist for good measure, Niall marched back toward her, barely casting a glance at the keening beast crouched in the corner of the cell, gripping its wrist to stanch the inky flow of blood pooling at its feet.

  The dark angel bent over and gripped Olivia beneath the arms as one might do to lift a small child. Hiking her to her feet, he kept his hold on her, testing her ability to sustain her weight. Good thing he did, because her legs were not cooperating. Olivia’s knees buckled as she fought against the urge to retch—the pain searing into her throat and chest was nearly unbearable.

  Niall lifted her again, giving her an impatient hike as if he expected her to help him out by standing on her own two feet. “What in the devil were you thinking, woman? Pray tell, you are either the most precocious female I’ve ever met, or the most suicidal. Either way, I pity Liam the pox of inheriting you.” It was just like that insensitive ass to stand here bellowing at her when she’d nearly met her end mere minutes ago.

  She was too shaken to fight back, too terrified to stand there and defend herself. Truthfully, she was in too much pain to have clear presence of thought. As tears burned her eyes, she stammered, “I thought… I thought your horse was injured. I was only trying to help.”

  “’Twas a ploy. You think I wouldn’t know if my destrier was ailing? Clearly, you cannot tell the difference between a cry for help and a warning to stay away. ”

  Clearly… “Sorry. I don’t speak horse.”

  Her cheeks burned with embarrassment at his snort of agreement. Taking firm hold of her chin, he none-too-gently angled her cheek to the light that he alone seemed to be powering. A ripe curse ripped from his grim mouth. “A fine time I’m going to have explaining this to Liam,” he grouched. Those emotionless, violet eyes roved over her face, down her neck, and to her blood-splattered chest. She wasn’t so arrogant as to think, for even a moment, that he eyed her with any sentiment of lust. Whether out of respect for Liam, or love for Rebecca, there was nothing in this warrior’s dispassionate gaze beyond a cold, calculating assessment of her injuries.

  Dropping his hand, he kept the other gripped on her bicep and escorted her out of the barn. As Niall marched her up to the house, the door slammed behind them, followed by the scrape of the metal latch sliding home.

  She took two steps to one of his long, purposeful strides. Each time she faltered, he gave her arm an impatient tug. “Slow down,” she complained breathlessly as he verily dragged her along behind him.

  “Hasten your feet, woman. Core blood cannot remain on your flesh very long.”

  As they entered the foyer, Rebecca took one look at her and gasped. “Oh Laurd, what in heavens happened to you?”

  Olivia wasn’t sure if she was referring to the throbbing bruise on her face, or the inky blood splattered across her neck and chest. The sticky liquid had seeped into her shirt and was burning her breasts with a sharp sting of acid’s bite.

  “It’s Core blood. She was in the stable.”

  The angel’s accusatory grumble sparked her defensiveness. “Again, I was worried for your horse,” she snapped, fighting back tears. Why did this angel insist on making her feel like a helpless child? Probably because this was the second time he’d saved her in nearly as many days, she conceded a bit begrudgingly.

  His gruff snort was an unspoken well-we-can-all-see-how-well-that-worked-out. “Given the choice between you or my steed against that Correan, my bet is on Jesse.”

  She wanted to stand there and argue with the unappreciative hard-ass, but each second that passed, the burning became more intense. The rotten scent of sulfur mixed with burned flesh made her stomach turn. Before she could utter a rebuttal, Niall turned his hard gaze on Rebecca. The immediate softening of his violet stare didn’t go unnoticed, and Olivia wondered at the woman who could tame this war-hardened warrior.

  “Take her to the loo and see that the Correan’s blood is thoroughly removed.”

  Rebecca gave him a curt nod, her vibrant curls bouncing as she rushed forward, taking Olivia’s arm and ushering her down the hall. They passed the white column arches separating the living room and study, not stopping until they reached the last room on the right at the end of the hallway. Guiding her inside, Rebecca kicked the door closed with her foot and instructed, “Take your clothes off.”

  The urgency in her friend’s voice stayed any reluctance to balk at the lack of privacy. Besides, the pain was excruciating, and she wanted nothing more than to shed these violence-ridden clothes.

  Rebecca rushed to the tub, cranking both faucet handles inward. Water blasted into the claw-footed bathtub, and she squirted something into the water. Bubbles foamed and the light scent of gardenias filled the room, competing with the stench of death covering her.

  Turning to Olivia, Rebecca began helping her strip off her clothes, as if she wasn’t moving fast enough. After shedding her panties, the last article of clothing she wanted to part with, Rebecca nudged her into the tub while grabbing a jar of salve from the medicine cabinet and handing it to her. “Here, this will help get the blood off.”

  Olivia took it, twisting off the lid as she mumbled her thanks. Rebecca scooped her clothes off the floor and hurried to the door. “There’s a robe in the closet, feel free to use it. If you need help—”

  “I’m fine. Thank you,” she interrupted, cutting short the offer, more than capable of bathing herself and anxious to rid her body of this demon’s filth in private.

  “Just call. I’ll be listening for you.”

  With that parting comment, Rebecca closed the door behind her and Olivia dove her hand into the jar of gritty salve that smelled of blessed rosemary. Coating her neck and chest, she began scrubbing her flesh, grinding her teeth against the searing pain of her scorched skin.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Rebecca had a hot cup of chamomile tea waiting for her when she came out of the bathroom. Olivia accepted the thoughtful gesture on her way to her room, doubtful there was any tea strong enough to help her sleep this night. Before climbing into bed, she lit the night candle at her bedside, going through the motions of preparing for bed, all the while knowing it would be of futile use.

  Plagued with uncertainty and doubt, she exhaled a heavy sigh and sat on the edge of the bed. Slipping under the covers, she turned to face Liam, her mighty angelic warrior who in this “stasis” still appeared breathtakingly masculine but unsettlingly vulnerable. It scared her to think of what could have happened had this occurred outside of Landaketa, w
hat Haden would have done if he’d followed her and discovered Liam like this. Would he have given her warrior the same measure of mercy Liam had shown him at her request? Doubtful.

  The mere thought of Haden left an unsettling knot of dread in her gut. It was so easy to pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist here. Was Haden even now searching for her?—hunting for the stone he believed would ensure his vengeance? It wouldn’t be long before the hunter became the hunted. There was no doubt in her mind Liam would uphold his vow to deliver the Nephilim to the High Court as promised. She told herself that what came of Haden wasn’t her concern, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t worried about the retribution he’d surely face at the hands of the elders. Nor was she comfortable with the idea of Liam returning to the same court that had incarcerated him. What if they tried to imprison him again? What if he didn’t return to her?

  Her heavy sigh mirrored the weight smothering her heart. She turned toward him and reached out to gently brush his hair from his face and whispered, “What will become of us, huh? What kind of a future will we have? How can I let you walk away from everything you are? And yet I would rather die than let you go again.” Leaning forward, she brushed her lips against his. “I wish I were stronger.”

  Settling in, she laid her un-bruised cheek against his chest and draped her arm over his stomach. Listening to the steady beat of his heart, the slow rhythmic draw of his breaths, she traced her fingers over the large scar on his side, remembering the story of how he got the wound that nearly took his life. Such a proud, fearless warrior, her angel…

  Olivia woke to teasing kisses trailing down her neck, across her collarbone, following the path of exposed skin as Liam tugged her robe open, baring her shoulder…her breast. In her haze of sleepy bliss, a surrendering moan escaped her parted lips, and was answered by a low throaty growl. Although her mind remained dull from sleep, her body swiftly awakened—hypersensitive and responsive to Liam’s gentle, insistent touch.