Heart racing, she asked the question she feared. “Can you help us find him?”
After a moment, the goddess nodded. “You saved my life and freed me. I owe you a life debt.”
The water began to swirl around them. It moved faster and faster. A tornado of water rushed at them and then it pulled back. Surcy, the Goddess of the Ocean, and the glaring merman stared at one another, lying on the ocean floor in the myths of the swirling water tornado. The goddess reached down and plucked a seashell off of the sandy bottom. She held it to her lips, and wisps of blue magic moved from her to the seashell. When she was done, she offered it to Surcy.
Surcy crawled across the ground, took the seashell, and looked at the goddess in confusion.
“It will reveal its secrets to you, but be ready to act when it does.”
Tears stung her eyes for reasons she couldn’t explain. “Thank you.”
The goddess smiled. “Hold your breath.”
“My breath?”
The tornado of water came crashing down on her. She had a moment of panic as she was tumbled through the water at an impossible speed, and then she was dumped out onto the beach.
Breathing hard, she opened her hand and stared down at the shell.
Tristan was beside her in an instant. “Where were you?” He roared. “I couldn’t find you!”
She looked up at him. “The goddess gave me a gift.”
“A gift?”
She held out the shell.
He frowned. “You risked your life for that?”
She climbed to her feet, legs shaking, and hurried to Daniel’s side. “It’ll tell us how to find Mark, but first, we need to take Daniel home.”
Tristan said nothing, but he took Daniel’s limp hand, and then hers. They teleported, the world shimmering around them. When they arrived at their home, Tristan carried Daniel to his bed, while Surcy stripped off her sandy, wet clothes, changed, and pulled on new boots.
By the time she returned to the living room, Tristan was already waiting.
“Ready?”
He nodded.
Lifting the shell to her ear, she closed her eyes and waited.
Nothing happened.
She shook the shell, listened again, and still, nothing happened.
“It’s not working.”
Tristan frowned. “Mermaid gifts are never simple.”
She stared at the shell in her hand. “What can we do?”
He exhaled noisily, sounding annoyed. “I have an idea.”
Chapter Nine
Surcy and Tristan stood at the front of the small sailing boat that he had procured. She didn’t know where it came from, but she didn’t care. Mark’s life was at stake.
Tristan moved with certainty as he took them from the dock and sailed them out into the middle of the cove. There, he dropped anchor and went to stand at her side.
“Try listening to it now.”
“I tried the whole way,” she insisted, but she tried again.
Still nothing.
“Drop it in the sea.”
She whirled toward him. “If this doesn’t work, we’ve lost our only way of finding him.”
“Drop it,” he said, his tone unforgiving.
She felt sick as she stretched her hand out over the water. It took her a long second to open her fingers, but with a deep breath, she turned her hand over.
The shell dropped as if in slow motion, but when it hit the water, a wave boomed out. The waves rose, and suddenly, their ship was flying over the ocean like a child’s toy. She clung to the edge of the ship, but her fingers began to slip. Tristan was immediately there, pulling her against him, and holding onto the railing as if it was the easiest thing in the world.
The water struck them wildly, powerfully, and still, the gargoyle held her.
Time passed. Her face rested against his chest and she breathed in the earthy scent that belonged to the gargoyle. Her eyes closed. For a minute, with the water spinning around them and the boat soaring over the waves, she felt lost in a dream. In Tristan’s arms, nothing scared her. She felt safe and protected.
And this feels so natural.
How many times had his arms held her, times that she still didn’t remember? How many times had he protected her? He stayed with her, beside her, through each day, even though she couldn’t open up to him.
This big, strong man needed more from her. All three of her demons did. She’d thought she couldn’t give it to them when she wasn’t sure about their cause, the angels, or the true nature of demons. She had thought she couldn’t connect with them because she wasn’t sure who she was anymore, and because she didn’t remember her past.
But maybe, instead, she needed to focus on creating a new connection with them. New memories. New moments.
Lifting her head, she whispered his name.
He looked down at her. His dark hair was soaking wet. His skin glistened with water, and yet, his mismatched eyes latched onto hers as if there was nothing else in the world but them.
Reaching up, she touched his cheek. She wanted to kiss him, but she didn’t. She just clung to him and touched his face, memorizing every line.
“What do you ask of me?” he murmured, his voice barely audible above the rushing water.
“Just... just a chance to try again.”
His eyes widened, and very slowly, he nodded.
A slight smile teased his lips. “I would like that very much.”
When the waves calmed, they struck land. The ship pitched, and if it weren’t for Tristan’s strong grip, they would have gone flying into the water. Instead, they clung to each other, panting.
The ship righted itself. The waves calmed, and the ocean grew still around them.
They moved to the other side of the ship and stared at the little island. There was nothing on it except a lonely looking building made of dark stone.
“You think that’s where he is?”
Tristan nodded. “I think so.” Turning, she took a deep breath. It’s okay. You can handle this. “Will you fly us over to it?”
His gaze locked onto hers. “Are you sure? We can teleport.”
“I can handle it.” Lifting her hands, she wrapped them around his neck.
He transformed in an instant, his flesh turning to cold stone beneath her touch, and his stone wings sprouting from his back. When he lifted them into the air, she felt the wind on her face. Flashes of herself soaring through the air came to her, and she felt herself trembling. Memories came back, of her wings being torn from her back, of the wounds that ached for too long.
When they landed on the island, he put her down.
She stumbled away from him and threw up. Dropping to her knees, tears slid down her cheeks. She didn’t understand why she was reacting like this. It wasn’t like her life had been easy. It made no sense.
Tristan sat down on the sand beside her and stroked her back, avoiding her scars.
Wiping her mouth, she turned to him, feeling ashamed. “I’m sorry.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “In my previous life, I was a gargoyle created to defend my town. For many, many years, I came to life only when I was needed, but the time between attacks grew longer and longer, and I remained a creature of stone for too long. When I was needed again, I didn’t expect to die. I didn’t believe one of my kind could be killed.
I thought whatever I faced would be easy. I’d fought vampires, werewolves, cruel humans, armies... many, many battles. When I was reborn in the demon realm, I was afraid. I have never feared the dark like that before. But it was endless. And the screaming...” He paused, shaking his head. “That’s why I still don’t like the dark. There are times when I forget what it was like, and then something will remind me. I find my heart beating fast, and my skin dampened with sweat.”
She smiled at him. “So, you’re telling me this is perfectly normal?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Or we are both unusual.”
Sighing, she looked back at
the little building. “Well, I’d better pull myself together and find Mark.”
He stood and held out his hand.
She shook her head, knowing she needed a minute to clear her thoughts. Rising and going to the water, she washed her face and hands. That seemed to help. She still felt embarrassed, but a little better. Ready to kick some angel ass.
I feel the way I do after Daniel and I have sex. As if my emotions and senses aren’t as muted. I feel charged with energy. Almost overloaded.
Weird...
Clenching her hands, her focus returned. And something else. A feeling she hadn’t experienced much since becoming an angel... that she could remember. Rage rolled through her. These angels had stolen Mark. The goddess said he wouldn’t last the night.
How dare they!
“Come on,” she said, calling her soul-blade to her hand.
“Surcy?”
“I’m going to teach those fucking angels a lesson.”
Tristan pulled his blade from his back with a hiss. “This is a plan I like.”
As they started through the palm trees and plants, a horrible scream echoed through the air. Birds launched into the sky, and the very trees seemed to shake.
But the effect on the surroundings was nothing compared to what that sound did to Surcy. She recognized Mark’s voice. She’d know it anywhere, and his scream was one of horrible pain.
She started running. She didn’t care if she was going straight into danger. No one hurt her demon. No one!
Chapter Ten
Surcy and Tristan ran until they pushed through the growth that hid the building from view. When they drew closer, they slowed and crept to the front.
The door in the front of the building was partially ajar. She and Tristan stood on either side of the door, made eye contact and he nodded. She pushed the door all the way open and launched inside.
Inside, she discovered one big room, dark except for light that streamed from a skylight in the center. On the floor, bathed in the sun’s light, Mark lay bleeding. Surrounded by angels who towered over him.
The angels’ laughter came to her, and she saw red. Angels were supposed to protect the innocent from demons. That’s what she’d been told. So far, she’d seen things that made her question who was actually good and evil. Something inside her changed in that moment. She felt it, like puzzle pieces sliding into place.
She no longer had wings. She no longer obeyed Caine.
The angels were her enemies now. There was no question. And her job? Her job was to protect the men who loved her for reasons she didn’t understand.
She entered the room like a ghost. Moving behind Frink, she sliced his head from his neck before he could react. The angels turned to her in shock. Another head went flying.
And then, the battle began in earnest.
Their soul-blades flared to life. One blade crashed against hers. Another clashed against Tristan’s.
She kicked the angel in the chest, then knocked his blade from his grip. “So, you think hurting a defenseless man is fun?”
The angel’s eyes widened, and he glanced behind him to where his blade was out of reach.
She knew he was about to teleport. Striking out, he tried to leap out of the way, but she sliced his chest. He took another step back. But she wouldn’t give him the second he needed to concentrate enough to teleport. Instead, she launched an attack.
He dove, jumped, and tried to avoid her blows. She was hell-bent on causing him pain. Not killing him. Making him suffer.
When he fell to his knees, his arms bleeding, his stomach bleeding, he looked up at her with pleading eyes. “Mercy,” he whispered.
“Did you show Mark mercy?”
His acceptance was there in his face.
She raised her sword, and sliced his head off. It hit the ground, and then, silence stretched around her. Strange and oddly tense
Turning, she saw that Tristan had killed his angel. He was watching her, his expression unreadable. Whether the other angels had died or teleported away, she didn’t know. Nor did she care. As long as they were gone.
Sending her soul-blade away, she ran to Mark.
A sob grew in her throat. His injuries were bad... bad enough that he might not survive.
Reaching out, she touched his face. His eyes flashed open, and the pain within them was heartbreaking.
“Kill me,” he whispered.
Her heart pounded in her chest. “You don’t mean that.”
“Please.”
She tore her gaze from him to Tristan. “Touch me. I’m getting us out of here.”
Tristan knelt and placed a hand on her arm, obeying. She teleported them, and forced herself to erase their path so the other angels couldn’t find them. It was harder. And by the time they appeared in her room, she was breathing hard.
“Help me get him in the shower and then you take care of Daniel.”
Tristan plucked Mark out of her arms like he was a child and brought him to the shower, laying him down. Looking back at her, she could see for a moment his fear and anguish. “Take care of him.”
“I will,” she whispered.
And then, the big man left.
Shedding her bloody clothes, she entered the shower, turning on the water. Mark hissed and thrashed, but she tried to shield him as much as she could while the water heated up. Then, carefully, she tore his clothes off and set them outside the shower.
The wounds that covered him were stomach-churning. The slices, careful and painful, covered every inch of his body.
“Fucking angels,” she hissed.
“Kill me,” he begged, his eyes squeezed shut, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“No,” she whispered, lying beside him on the massive floor of the shower, she watched as the blood washed from him, coloring the water.
He shook under her touch, but she stroked him slowly. She knew some angels were capable of healing. Of taking away pain, but she wasn’t sure how. The only thing she could do was stay with him as his body worked to knit itself back together. She prayed he would fall asleep soon. He’d heal faster if he could.
But the druid didn’t sleep. He pleaded in a soft, pained voice for her to end his life.
She held him in the water, pretending tears weren’t running down her face.
When he finally passed out, she began to sob. No one should hurt like this. No one should beg for death. Certainly not her sweet Mark.
Never him.
Even when the water grew cold, she lay with him, watching his wounds in fear. They would heal. They had to heal. Only cutting his head off would kill him. Right?
She found herself unsure as she realized that not a single wound was closing. They remained open, bleeding, more than a body should be able to endure.
Swallowing, she pressed her forehead against his, begging him to be okay. With a soft touch, she rubbed her lips against his.
Should her heart really ache this much? Should she really feel this frightened?
Am I falling in love with him?
She thought of her demons. There was still so much she didn’t understand about them. So many mysteries surrounding them. Yet, she felt something powerful for them, something that hurt for her to think about.
When she lightly kissed him again, she felt the strangest tingle pass between them. Mark shifted and groaned beneath her, not in pleasure exactly, but not in pain.
Curious, she kissed him again and again. The feeling only intensified.
When she looked down at his wounds, they’d stopped bleeding. Staring, she watched in silent wonder as they slowly began to knit back together.
Is it my kiss? Is it helping him? She wasn’t sure if it was some magic she didn’t understand, or the strength of their bond, but hours passed, and Mark’s body was no longer a sea of wounds, but scars.
When Tristan came some time later, his gaze ran over them, lying together naked.
“Is Daniel okay?”
Tristan nodded. “He’s still asl
eep, but his wound looks good.”
She looked down at Mark’s pale face. “Should we get him into bed?”
“That would be wise.”
Turning off the water, they did their best to dry him, then she dried herself.
Laying him down in her bed, she touched his chest. “I think I’m going to sleep in here with him.”
“He would like that.”
It took her hours to fall asleep, but when she did, she didn’t wake in the night drenched in sweat. Imagining Caine in her room, burning her mind. She awoke in the morning, a slight breeze moving the white curtains where her balcony doors stood open.
When she sat up slightly and looked at Mark, he was awake. His gaze met hers.
Tears stung the corners of her eyes. “You’re okay.”
He said nothing.
“I’m sorry. I know you were hurting. I know you wanted me to... you wanted me to—“
He reached up, his hands digging into the back of her hair, and pulled her down to him.
Their kiss was earth-shattering, a power that moved through her and him. His lips were strong, aggressive. And when his tongue dove into hers, she moaned.
This man knew how to kiss. He knew how to shatter her thoughts with his touch.
When his hand slid down her neck, trailing along the sensitive skin of her throat, and then caressed her breasts, she arched into his touch. Within seconds, his fingers brushed her nipples, and she gasped. He played with her tips as his kiss grew more intense.
With her head swimming, she pulled back. “You’re hurt.”
“Then, I guess you’ll have to be gentle,” he growled.
Her gaze met his. This was the demon. Not the gentle man or the druid, but the demon who wanted to claim what was his.
But what if she hurt him?
As if in answer, his hand moved from her breasts, sliding over her belly.
She tensed as he stroked her womanhood, and then one finger moved inside of her. He stroked her slowly, sending her nerves exploding in little bursts. When he moved into her opening, she spread her legs wider, whimpering.
Her eyes closed, and she arched against him. Her release was so close, building like something powerful.
Rebel Lies: An Angel Reverse Harem Romance (Mates of the Realms: Immortals Book 2) Page 5