Knight's Salvation (Knights of Hell Book 2)

by Sherilee Gray

The room was small, windowless, and the walls—she reached out and pushed on the one closest to her—were padded. Alarm bells fired through her and her gaze shot to James who was already in the room. “Why the hell am I in a padded cell?”

  The door clicked shut behind her and she spun around. Chaos stood, arms crossed, blocking the exit with his massive body. “Sometimes during training, things go…where we least expect. It’s for your own protection.”

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but what are you doing here? I thought James was in charge of my training?”

  He grinned. She guessed in an effort to put her at ease, but it looked more feral than comforting. “Until we learn what our demi can do, I like to be in here as well. Things have on occasion gone wrong. I hear your power source is fire?”

  “Yes.”

  He shrugged his big shoulders. “I’m here so you don’t barbecue James.”

  Oh God.

  “Oh.” She felt her face heat to scalding proportions. “I’ll try not to, ah…do that.”

  “I’d appreciate it,” James drawled then clapped his hands. “Okay, enough talk. Let’s get started. Mia, come to the center of the room.”

  Mia did as he asked, and he moved up behind her. Chaos started to circle around her, she guessed preparing for the worst. She swallowed hard. James’s hands came down on her shoulders and he squeezed gently. It felt nice, reassuring. “Roc told me you could call up your power pretty easily.”

  “Yes.” The heat from James’s palms had seeped through the thin fabric of her T-shirt and she calmed further.

  “Can you do that for me now?”

  She nodded and let that tight, volatile energy build in her chest. It always felt so much bigger than the delicate-looking flames she called forth, which was another reason she’d decided to come to the compound.

  She felt her power slither across her shoulders and travel down her arms. Warmth tingled through her veins to the tips of her fingers. Heated wind began to swirl around her, sending her hair flying, and she looked down at the small flames that licked from the tips of her fingers.

  “Jesus, that wind’s hot.” But James didn’t leave her. He stayed right where he was. “That’s good, Mia. The pressure in your chest, is it gone?”

  She turned to face him. “How did you…”

  “I told you. No matter how different our powers are, all manifest in a similar way.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Well, has it gone?”

  “No. It’s hard to describe, but the pressure keeps building and I can’t—” Mia gasped, unable to keep it up much longer. James exchanged a look with Chaos. The pressure tightened further behind her ribs, stealing her breath.

  “It’s okay, Mia. Just let it go.”

  “I can’t… I…”

  “Close your eyes,” James said against her ear. “Envision that ball of energy in your chest. Imagine it being released, the relief. Let it fly, Mia.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and tears of pain and frustration burned behind her lids, sliding down her cheeks. “No. No, I can’t. It’s too hard. It hurts too much.”

  James tightened his hold on her. “It’s okay. Ease up now. Call it back.”

  She sagged back against him as the pressure dissipated, and gave him all her weight, too exhausted to be embarrassed about it. The only thing stopping her from falling to the floor was the arm he slid around her waist to hold her up. She felt drained, like all her energy had burned up with it. She’d never pushed herself that hard where her power was concerned—had been too afraid to. Now her chest throbbed from the effort.

  When she opened her eyes, she sucked in a sharp breath. The bright yellow gaze that had haunted her through her mostly sleepless night blazed through the window in the door across the room. Zenon’s gaze was fixed on the arm around her ribs, holding her upright, and when James leaned in closer and asked if she was all right, the long fangs she’d glimpsed the night before slowly extended to almost halfway down his chin.

  She couldn’t speak, couldn’t form a coherent sentence right then if her life depended on it. His gaze moved up, caught hers. He flinched and reared back like she’d slapped him. Then he was gone.

  “Mia? You okay?”

  “I…I think so.” She straightened and tried to pull herself together then turned to face the males in the room. “So what do you think?”

  James gave her a half smile. “I think we have some work to do, but we’ll get there.”

  “Does this happen very often?”

  He exchanged another one of those looks with Chaos. “Sometimes.”

  What was that supposed to mean? And why didn’t any of this make her feel the slightest bit better? Chaya had promised these guys could help her. Now she just felt more confused and unsure than before.

  “We’ll try again in the morning,” Chaos said as he walked to the door. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.” Then he left, shutting the door behind him.

  Telling her not to worry made her worry even more. She looked back at James. “What does this all mean?”

  “That your power is stronger than we first thought, and that you made the right decision coming here.” He must have seen the concern on her face because his eyes softened and he placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed lightly. “We will get your power to its full potential. We just have to work out what triggers it.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “If we don’t find out what you’re capable of, we can’t train you to control it either. And until we do that, you’re pretty much a ticking time bomb.”

  “Great.” Her sister had told her some of the horror stories. Untrained demi accidentally killing innocent people, and of course the story of how demi-demons were first discovered by the angels thousands of years ago, when a single demi-demon, new to his powers, wiped out his entire village.

  A small smile tugged at James’s lips, and Mia couldn’t help notice again what a good-looking guy he was. “Better here than the grocery store or the mall, or some other place full of people, yeah?”

  “Point taken.”

  His gaze lingered, dropped to her lips then moved back up. Was he going to kiss her? This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To start her life. A life that was never going to be normal but could be good if she’d only let go and try. James was a great guy, and he already knew what she was, knew all the crazy baggage that spending time with her would bring. It wasn’t crazy to him.

  A pair of intense yellow eyes flittered through her mind, and she pushed them back out. That line of thought was pointless and frightening.

  “Can I…can I kiss you?” he finally said.

  She nodded.

  When James leaned in, she stayed where she was and ignored her instincts to pull back when his lips came down on hers. They were soft, warm. He deepened the kiss, and again she let him.

  It was brief, and it was—all wrong. So wrong her entire body jarred at the intrusion. Everything in her rebelled against it. She couldn’t help it; as soon as he lifted his head she stumbled back several steps.

  He looked at her and frowned. “I’m sorry. I just thought that maybe…”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. It’s not you, it’s—”

  “Don’t finish that sentence. I don’t think my ego could take it.” He winced. “Look, I like you, a lot. But if you need more time, I get that. I don’t want to rush you.”

  She released the breath she’d been holding. It came out shaky. He smiled at her and she offered up a weak one in response. Given the way her body seized up at his touch, she didn’t think it was time she needed, but she didn’t have the heart to tell him. Something was wrong with her. Yes, she was a virgin, but she’d been kissed before, and by guys not nearly as hot as James. He was perfectly lovely, handsome, and she’d reacted like he was a hideous monster.

  Another thing to ask Chaya when she called her later. Perhaps it had to do with gaining her power? Those kinds of questions should be direc
ted at your trainers, but she didn’t think it was a good idea to ask the guy in question why kissing him had made her want to gag.

  So instead she said her goodbyes and headed back to her room.

  And on the way, she ignored the urge to seek out the owner of a pair of terrifying yellow eyes.

  Zenon had spent an entire day and night trying to scrub the image of James and Mia from his mind. Nothing was working.

  Why did he care?

  The music pounded through the large workout room, but it wasn’t loud enough. He jumped off the treadmill and turned it up. He could still think, and he didn’t want to think. He wanted to sweat, to work Mia—a female he had no business thinking about—from his mind.

  After toweling the sweat from his bare chest, he yanked his hair back, tied it away from his face, and went to the free weights. He grabbed some dumbbells and started a set of lateral raises. Halfway through his second set the volume was turned way down. Already pissed, he spun around snarling, in no mood for company.

  Mia stood wide-eyed by the stereo. “S-sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

  His gut tightened at the sight of her. Her lush, curvy body was highlighted by her workout clothes. He could easily see how round her hips were, how her waist cinched in. Her glossy red hair was pulled back high on her head, enhancing her wide blue eyes and full pink lips.

  Another image of James, his arms across her belly, hand resting on her hip, forced its way into his mind, and another snarl slipped past his lips.

  Mia jumped. “I-I can come back later. I’m, ah—”

  “I’m just about finished,” he lied.

  He could sense her fear, could see the mad flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat. So why wasn’t she running in the other direction?

  Instead, she hovered by the door, blocking his exit. Shit. It was pathetic, but he didn’t want to get too close to her. He didn’t like the feelings she stirred in him. The test on his control. It made him confused, and being confused made him angry. She made him long for something he couldn’t name, didn’t understand.

  Trapped, he turned his back on her and carried on with his set, waiting for her to move so he could get the hell out of there.

  He could see her reflection in the wall mirrors. She’d moved to one of the machines and started a set of lat pull-downs. She was doing it all wrong and if she carried on that way she’d injure herself. He scowled at her reflection. Why should he care if she hurt herself?

  He tried to ignore her.

  But it was damn near impossible, especially when her scent filled the room. He clenched his jaw, grinding his molars when she started pulling the bar down behind her head.

  He couldn’t stand by and say nothing.

  Fuck.

  He replaced his dumbbells on the stand and said without looking back, “You need to keep your forearms vertical.”

  “Oh.” She bit her lip. “Like this?”

  He shook his head. “Bar to the front, not behind your head.”

  “Could you…could you show me?”

  No. I’m too much of a fucking pussy to come anywhere near you.

  But he couldn’t say that without her thinking he was crazier than she already did. Reluctantly, he moved closer. Still, he refused to touch her and kept a good distance between them. “Your grip should be wider than your shoulders. Lean back slightly so the middle of your chest is directly under the cable pulley. Keep your back straight then breathe in and pull the bar toward the middle of your chest.”

  He gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to look at her chest, but he couldn’t avoid it.

  She tried again. “Like this?”

  She wasn’t getting it. “Hop up.”

  Mia climbed off the machine and stood to the side. Zenon straddled the seat and adjusted the kneepads to accommodate his far larger thighs. When he looked up, the tight feeling in his guts knotted into a rock-hard ball. Her expressive eyes were trained on his chest then traveled over his shoulders and arms.

  What did she think when she looked at him? Was she disgusted by all the tattoos, the scars?

  Why the fuck do I care?

  Her gaze moved up, skimmed his throat that was completely inked, right up to his jaw then over to the brand on his right cheek, and lingered there. He realized his hair was still back and he had to resist the urge to pull the tie out and cover his face. Anger rose so suddenly he had to grit his teeth against it. He knew that a lot of people were offended by the way he looked, but he didn’t appreciate being stared at like a fucking sideshow freak.

  “You get a good enough look?”

  Her gaze darted up to his. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just…” He rose and took a step back, needing the distance between them. “You look so much younger than the others.”

  What the hell? That’s why she was staring at him? He didn’t know what to say to that and dropped his gaze to the floor. He knew this close, looking into his eyes would frighten her, and though that had been his goal, right then it didn’t sit well with him.

  Pussy.

  “And your body.” He heard her swallow. “You’re a work of art. All those tattoos. They’re beautiful.”

  He kept his head down, couldn’t bring himself to look up. And fuck, he felt his face heat. She thought something about him was beautiful?

  “Yeah?” His voice sounded raw to his own ears.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He’d seen her and Eve on the control room balcony the night before and had purposely gone to her after Eve left. He’d wanted to scare her, to let her see what he was. A monster. Because from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d been drawn to her. So he’d landed on that balcony to wash away the ridiculous fantasies that had filled his mind, fantasies he hadn’t allowed himself to have since he was young and full of hope that someday he’d be free. That someday someone might actually give a shit about him.

  That day had never come, would never come.

  He would never be like Kryos and Lazarus, or any of the others. He couldn’t go after what he wanted, when he wanted. So he’d scared her to confirm what he already knew. She wasn’t for him. Could never be. He’d foolishly thought that would make it easy to stop thinking about her, to stay away from her.

  He was wrong.

  Instead of running, she’d recognized him almost straight away, even in his Kishi demon form, and after her initial shock, instead of backing off she’d approached him. He’d been shocked, so shocked he’d fled like a fucking coward.

  “The ones on your forearms, what are they?”

  He looked at them, anywhere but her. “All knights are born with them. They say what we are. Where we come from.”

  He felt rather than saw her take a step closer and he fought not to retreat, barely managing to hold his ground.

  “What about the tattoos on your neck? Were you born with those, too?”

  He shook his head. “Got them when I was fourteen.” The words slipped from him without thought. He’d never told anyone that before. What he hadn’t told her was that up until then he’d worn a collar. When it was removed, he’d been permanently scarred from it cutting repeatedly into his skin, from years of being dragged around by a chain. He’d hated looking at the scars and had gotten another one of the slaves, known for his talent with the needle, to cover them.

  “Fourteen? You were so young. That must’ve been painful.”

  He shrugged then braced for the questions he knew were coming next. The ink didn’t completely cover the scars, and this close she would see the marks in his skin beneath the design.

  But she didn’t push, and instead asked, “And what about the design on your chest? The colors are beautiful. It must’ve taken hours.”

  He nodded, his throat too tight to speak. She took another step closer and this time he did take a step back. His back connected with the wall, stopping him from retreating farther. Shit.

  “But I think the one covering your back is my favorite,” she said, getti
ng closer still.

  With her standing so near, he couldn’t remember his own name, let alone what was inked on his back. Zenon’s demon stirred as his panic at her nearness took hold. He wasn’t afraid of Mia. He was terrified. The way she made him feel just being in the same room, he’d never felt anything like it before.

  But what terrified him most was what he might do if his control slipped.

  Unlike the other knights who fought with the demon side of their DNA battling for control, that part of Zenon, that dark part of himself, had been a place of safety, a place to retreat to when things had gotten bad. It had always been that way.

  When Tobias had succumbed to his demon, abandoning them, it screwed with all of them. During that time of unbalance, all their demons had gone crazy, even his. He didn’t like being at odds with that part of himself. It felt wrong, unnatural.

  And as Mia moved closer, his demon began to struggle, fighting to come to the surface, to stop whatever was making Zenon react this way—to protect him. It was hard, but he maintained control—until Mia moved even closer.

  Her gaze dropped to his abs, to the slave markings covering the right side. “And this one?” She raised her hand and he sucked in a breath when her fingers brushed over his heated skin, gentle, cautious. “What does this mean?”

  He went into sensation overload, and his momentary loss of concentration allowed his demon to rush forth. He knew the color had bled from his eyes and they were now a dull, black nothingness when hers widened in alarm. He was aware of everything but was unable to stop what happened next. With a snarl born of confusion, of fear, his demon shoved her away. Mia stumbled back then tripped over the machine behind her, glancing the side of her head before falling to the floor.

  His demon retreated immediately and in a way he’d never felt before, until Zenon almost couldn’t feel its presence anymore. Mia lay clutching her head, looking up at him in a way that took his self-loathing to a whole new level. She was afraid, angry. She swiped at her eyes, and he realized with utter horror that she was crying.

  He didn’t know what to do, what to say. Couldn’t process the flurry of emotions flooding him. So he went with the one he was familiar with. Anger. “People can’t…they don’t touch me,” he growled.