Her Angel: Eternal Warriors Romance Series Complete Series Box Set (Books 1-5)

by Felicity Heaton

  One worthy of the beautiful woman standing before him.

  CHAPTER 10

  Lysia didn’t like the way the others were looking at her now and how they held themselves at a distance. Only Nevar remained close by her side. It had comforted her at first, but over the hours that had passed since the angels had left the island, she had begun to feel differently about his presence because of his behaviour.

  She had studied his reactions to the group as they had posed questions and she had answered them, and he had relayed her answers to them in a language that they could understand.

  He acted strangely whenever he had to speak with the King of Demons, who had returned from Hell with his twin, Apollyon, declaring that Heaven had reclaimed the four angels just as everything had been going in the Devil’s favour.

  He also acted strangely whenever he had to speak with the Devil’s daughter, Erin.

  The female in question eyed her closely, a sharp edge to her golden irises.

  “She doesn’t look like the beast we saw on the chamber door,” the black-haired woman said and gently rocked her son in her arms.

  The father, an enormous red-haired brute that she had discovered was formerly a Hell’s angel, cooed over her shoulder at the boy and tickled his cheek, his other arm slung possessively around the waist of his female.

  It was a protective stance, and Nevar didn’t seem to like it. His gaze kept falling to the large hand softly gripping Erin’s hip through her black dress and it darkened whenever it did.

  Why?

  Lysia had a terrible feeling she knew the answer to that question but pretended that she was wrong. He didn’t harbour feelings for the Devil’s daughter.

  “Why don’t you look like the beast?” Erin said to her and she looked away, casting her eyes down at the white sand and scrunching it between her toes.

  “We have been through this. She does not remember,” Nevar replied for her, a biting edge to his tone that he seemed to immediately regret. His voice softened. “I mean… ask her something else. It is pointless going in circles like this.”

  Lysia risked lifting her eyes to his face and wished that she hadn’t when she caught him looking at Erin with a gentleness in his eyes that she had never seen before.

  A dark urge rose within her and she squashed it, knowing that she couldn’t obey it. She had tried to leave the group twice already, and both times Nevar had guided her back to them, his grip on her wrist unrelenting. Each time the others had looked at her with more suspicion.

  Did they think she meant them harm?

  She supposed she couldn’t blame them if they did. Lysander had revealed the truth she had wanted to remain hidden, locked inside her and unknown to even her. Before he had announced it, she had known she had done terrible things and had been aware of the battle that had taken place and that angels had brought her down, but she hadn’t known exactly what she was.

  It had come as a shock to her too.

  She had believed herself a monster, but hadn’t been prepared for just what sort of monster she truly was—a creature that would destroy the world.

  She didn’t want to destroy this world.

  She looked around the island at the verdant green of the palm trees, the crisp white of the sand, and the clear jewel blue of the sea. It gently lapped at the shore, a steady rhythm that she found soothing. She breathed in time with it, soaking up everything about this place.

  Including the people here.

  They looked upon her with wary and cold eyes at times, but they were still trying to help her. They had been kind and had protected her from the angels. She didn’t want to end their lives. She wanted to see them live long and happy ones, together as they were now.

  “You said angels struck you down. Were you a beast at the time or woman?” Apollyon said, his blue eyes holding hers, cold and clinical.

  The male was a born leader and seemed to be the one everyone turned to whenever they were unsure of how to proceed. Even Erin would turn to him for guidance.

  Erin who Nevar was staring at again, a flicker of warmth in his jade eyes and tenderness in his heart. She could feel it in hers and it sickened her, filling her mind with dark things that tormented her.

  Lysia closed her eyes and shut him out, focusing on what Apollyon had asked her and seeking the answer.

  She bit down on her tongue when a sharp hot lance pierced her skull above her right eye, trying to hide her pain from everyone as they stared at her in silence. The weight of their expectation pressed down on her and she pushed past the agony searing her mind and searched deeper, trying to grasp hold of the elusive answer for them. If she could answer them, perhaps they would trust her and she could stay in this peaceful place with them. She would be safe from the angels here—both those of Heaven and those of Hell. If she could give these people reason to believe in her, then they would protect her as they had before.

  She reached deeper, stretching for it now, seeing shadowy images of the battle in her head.

  Another hot bolt of lightning struck her mind and she couldn’t stop herself from crying out and clutching her forehead.

  “Enough.” It was Asmodeus’s deep voice that broke the silence and shattered her attempt to find an answer.

  She opened her eyes and blinked them to clear the tears away, and found him standing before her, his golden eyes dark but not with malice or intent. He placed his hand on her right shoulder.

  “Do not push yourself,” he said and she wished it had been Nevar who had intervened and had spoken those words to her.

  But Nevar was too busy looking at Erin again, that strange glimmer of hope mixed with guilt back in his heart.

  Lysia’s claws extended and she turned her back on him and the group, struggling for control. What was wrong with her? She didn’t understand what was happening to her or why she was unable to stop herself from feeling angry towards Erin when the woman had done nothing wrong.

  She feared that if she remained with the group much longer that she would end up harming the woman and that would turn the entire group against her.

  Shadowy memories surged into her mind, a flood of them that swept her away, distorted and fragmented and impossible to see.

  She could feel them though.

  She could remember a sensation that everyone was against her.

  That she was alone.

  Her heart clenched, gripped in icy claws, and she breathed harder, trying to combat the crushing fear that seized hold of her and refused to let her go.

  She could remember feeling alone, and that had terrified her.

  She never wanted to feel that way again.

  “Lysia?” Nevar said and she jerked away from him when he reached for her arm. His hand fell to his side and he was silent for long seconds before he sighed. “Take a break. Go to the water or something.”

  She closed her eyes on hearing that.

  He wanted her to go away.

  He hadn’t offered to go with her, to escort her in case the angels returned and keep her safe.

  He wanted her to go alone.

  She wrapped her arms around herself and curled her wings around herself too. She didn’t want to be alone. She had a horrible feeling she had been alone ever since the angels had defeated her. Nevar had spoken of her being dormant, but she wasn’t sure that she had been in a sleep state, not as everyone thought it to be anyway, a peaceful darkness where she wasn’t aware of anything.

  “Who were the angels with Lysander?” Einar asked, his voice as deep and smooth as a calm ocean.

  She had hated the tawny-haired angel when she had first met him, but now she liked him the most out of all the angels. He was kind and gentle, and had been the only one who hadn’t looked at her with ice in his deep brown eyes. He hadn’t changed from the way he had been when they had first met, and had been the one to tell everyone to give her a minute to rest when they had first started questioning her. He had enforced several breaks in questioning since then, giving her a moment to re
cover.

  “I knew of their existence. They were created after me. There was a rumour among the other angels at the time that they were the second incarnation. I remember that no matter how many times I am reborn.” Apollyon’s voice gained a cold edge as he spoke. “I do not know what happened to the first incarnation. I was given the duty of training Lysander after he had been reborn around two millennia ago.”

  “Did you know what his true purpose was?” Marcus said.

  “I was informed, but did not link him with the angels we met today until Lukas came to me.”

  “Lukas?” Marcus’s voice took on an incredulous note and Lysia couldn’t stop herself from turning back to face the group. The look on his face matched his tone and his pale blue eyes searched Apollyon’s darker ones. “What does he have to do with anything?”

  Apollyon looked upwards, to the endless blue sky. “Lukas was responsible for the training of the former mediator… the one we know as Mihail. Lukas came to me when he discovered the angel was different and he wanted to know more. I warned him to leave it be… to not ask questions and train the male as instructed.”

  Marcus’s expression darkened.

  “Two millennia ago… you argued with Lukas then. I remember it. The whole sky turned black. Shortly after that, Lukas died in a battle in the mortal world.” Marcus’s blue eyes widened and the silver in them swirled brighter. “Heaven killed him off and reset him because he found out about Mihail’s true purpose.”

  Apollyon’s handsome face turned grim and his power rose, as dark as midnight and edged with a hunger for violence that shocked her. Asmodeus truly had been born of this male, of everything dark and malevolent he held within him.

  “I did not realise that at the time.” Apollyon ran a hand over his long black hair, smoothing his ponytail, as if that action would also smooth his anger away. “But yes, I believe they reset him in order to keep knowledge of their angels of the apocalypse hidden from others. Even the angels themselves were unaware of their true purpose.”

  “Until someone woke her.” Veiron looked towards Lysia and she stood her ground, refusing to let the large male intimidate her. His dark eyes slid across to Nevar. “I hope to the Devil your rehab is going swimmingly and you’ve got your shit together now… because I have a feeling you might need to step up to the plate and stop the whole world from going to Hell in a hand-basket.”

  Nevar turned on the scarlet-haired Hell’s angel with a snarl, his eyes flashing violet, and she felt his pain beating within her, sharp and fierce. It was destroying him.

  She reached out to him and he instantly turned on her instead and smacked her hand away, the force of his blow sending a thousand hot needles stabbing up her arm from her wrist to her elbow. She recoiled and clutched her arm to her chest, her eyebrows furrowing as she gritted her teeth against the pain.

  Asmodeus was there before she could blink, shoving Nevar in his black breastplate and pushing him away from her.

  Nevar bared his fangs at his master and the skin around his violet eyes turned black.

  Asmodeus rose to his full height. “Calm down and consider what you just did, or I will calm you down.”

  Nevar’s purple eyes flickered to her and widened. He blinked, shock written across every line of his handsome face, and his gaze slowly fell to her wrist where she still held it to her chest.

  He shook his head and a bolt of fear struck her heart.

  He was going to leave her.

  CHAPTER 11

  Nevar wrestled with the dark urges running rampant through him, flooding his mouth with saliva as his fangs itched to taste blood. Whether it was the blood of his enemies or his own, he didn’t care. He craved the coppery tang on his tongue. Hungered for the sweet flow of it down his throat.

  With the rising need for blood came a rising need for the violence that would spill that precious liquid.

  He faced off against Asmodeus, anger curling through his veins and eating away at them like hot acid as the male stood in a protective stance between him and Lysia.

  The darker part of his heart told him to leave her with Asmodeus and the others. He didn’t care that he had awoken her and was her master. He wasn’t fit for that role. It would be better for everyone involved if he turned his back on her right now and left her with this motley band of warriors. They would know what to do and would no doubt save the day, triumphing over anything and everything that stood in their way and protecting the world.

  They could deal with Lysia and take care of her for him.

  He had just proven that he was not the person for that job.

  He had struck her.

  “Clearly the rehab isn’t going well,” someone muttered, just within range of his sensitive hearing.

  Nevar cursed them and the way they spoke about him in front of Lysia, and cursed Asmodeus for protecting her.

  His master believed him capable of hurting her.

  Nevar wasn’t sure what to believe.

  He had struck without thinking, only meaning to stop her from touching him when he was losing himself to the darkness. He hadn’t meant to hit her with such force that it would hurt her.

  He had sworn to protect her and had been incapable of protecting her from himself. What hope was there for him? The only hope for her was him leaving her with these people, with his master. He could have laughed at that had his heart not felt as if it was breaking apart in his chest, ripped into pieces by the knowledge that the man he had cursed to Hell and believed to be pure evil was more capable of taking care of Lysia than he was.

  He was the evil one now.

  Asmodeus had good in him and more of it shone through his dark exterior every day.

  The more of it that Nevar saw, the less he felt there was any left in him. He had become more evil than his master, more wretched and despicable, quick to violence and forever hungry to spill blood.

  What hope indeed?

  Lysia would see it too in time. She would come to realise that he was no good for her and that these other men were far more capable of protecting her, far more powerful than he could ever be, and far more good than he could dare hope to become.

  He growled at his despairing thoughts, a manifestation of the weakness living within him now. Perhaps he had always been this weak but had refused to see it. He had clung to his duty like a fool, even after Asmodeus had forced the contract between them. He had clutched it to him as if it could redeem him.

  As if Erin would ever desire him as her protector when she had a man far more capable of that role.

  She had a whole family who were more capable than he was and had protected her countless times already.

  He looked across at her and snarled a black curse when he saw the pity colouring her amber irises. She thought him weak too, a wretched creature without hope.

  Veiron shifted in front of her. “We going to have a problem, Nevar?”

  He wanted to shake his head and vow he would never harm Erin, but hadn’t he vowed the same thing to Lysia?

  Asmodeus offered his bare forearm. “Feed.”

  Nevar’s stomach clenched, coaxing him into taking his master’s blood. He was starving, out of his mind with hunger, but he forced himself to shake his head at the same time as he cursed himself for refusing the one thing that could help him claw back his sanity.

  He wouldn’t take Asmodeus’s blood in front of everyone, with them staring at him, as if he was an animal. What would they think of him then? They would see how truly wretched he had become. These people who had known him before he had fallen so far. These people who had seen him at his best and now saw him at his worst, but couldn’t see how hard he fought to pull himself out of the abyss and find some solid ground again, a balance between the good and evil within him.

  They would never see it.

  They would always view him with suspicion and lack trust in him.

  He shoved Asmodeus away from him, snarled at everyone as they stared, and unleashed his black wings and took off with
a single hard beat of them.

  Come back. Asmodeus spoke in his head and Nevar shut him out, refusing to return.

  He kept flying, heading high into the darkening sky, needing the cold air in his lungs and the space from everyone. He wasn’t strong enough right now to deal with everything. He was drowning and there was no hope of saving himself, and he couldn’t bear how the others had been looking at him. He despised them for it.

  The further he flew, the calmer he felt, until he could breathe again and the dark urges began to subside. He had to keep flying. He felt sure that if he could just keep flying away from everything that he could escape what he had done and the expectations everyone had placed on him, setting him up to fail.

  He couldn’t do this.

  His heart clenched.

  But he couldn’t bring himself to leave Lysia behind either.

  He halted in the cool night air, beating his broad black wings to keep him steady, and looked down at the island far below him, watching everyone around the bright glow of the fire. He felt certain they were talking about him, filling Lysia’s head with poisonous words and making her believe he was weak and evil, and no good for her.

  Which he was, but he couldn’t bear the thought of her believing that about him.

  He couldn’t bear the thought that the others might do such a thing either.

  He didn’t belong in the group and had proven himself unworthy of a position within it more than once, but a small piece of his heart wanted them to welcome him, rather than look upon him with distrust and hold him at a distance.

  He hovered in the cool air, breathing deep of it, fighting the darkness beginning to rise inside him again, born of his emotions this time. The ferocity of his need to protect Lysia warred with his need to leave and gain some space, seeking a place where he could rediscover his strength. She would be safe on the island, but that thought only made the darkness rise swifter and grow blacker, flooding him with a terrible urge to attack every male who would dare to protect her in his stead.