Her Avenging Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 7) (9 page)

He was losing, slowly and surely, his body faltering despite his efforts to remain strong and his deep desire to withstand this assault and shield her.

Lysia shoved the fingers of her free hand into her long black hair, clutching her head, and something snapped inside her.

“Leave him alone!” Her entire body jerked as her power blasted from her of its own will, too much for her to contain in her weakened state.

The shockwave tore through the room, sending not only the furniture but the occupants flying. It hit the centre of her focus with the most force, tossing Asmodeus hard across the room and into the wall. His impact created a crater, splintering the coloured wall and knocking several of the paintings down.

Only Nevar remained unaffected, held within the circle of her power, safe from harm.

Just as she had wanted him to be.

She breathed harder, struggling to regain control.

Nevar turned to face her, causing her hand on his back to slip to his waist and settle on his warm bare skin. He gently clasped her upper arms and rubbed his thumbs across her flesh, eliciting warm shivers that danced across her skin.

“Look at me,” he whispered and she lifted her head, releasing it as she brought her eyes up to meet his. “You’re making my chivalry thing a little difficult when you keep showing me up by flashing killer moves… but… I appreciate the back up, even if it is a little emasculating.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that. Was he angry with her because she had used her power to protect him or was he teasing her?

“Are you good now?” His violet eyes followed his fingers as he lifted his right hand and brushed her black hair behind her ear.

“I do not think I was ever good.” A smile trembled on her lips and he smirked.

“That makes two of us, but you know what I meant.”

She did, and she didn’t think he had never been good, because there was still good within him, a light that he couldn’t see through all the darkness. She wanted to guide him back to that light.

“I am in control,” she said, and realised that she was. She had regained control the moment he had touched her and she had seen that he was unharmed.

He nodded in approval and stroked his fingers down the curve of her jaw, his gaze still following them, distant yet focused.

“We need to find a way to help you remember,” he murmured and she was no longer sure she wanted to remember what had happened to her or anything else she might have forgotten.

She had more power than she had realised, a terrible force locked within her that she had little control over, and she feared if she discovered the true depth of it, that it would overwhelm her.

Nevar’s fingers slipped from her face and she grew aware of the gazes fixed on her and the wariness of their owners.

Even the King of Demons was looking at her differently, with more respect in his golden eyes. The touch of malice remained though, directed at her. He thought her dangerous and a threat to those he loved.

She would prove him wrong about that.

Lysia stepped out from Nevar’s shadow and faced Asmodeus. “I swear to you, King of Demons, that I shall not harm anyone on the isle, but in return you must swear you will not harm Nevar.”

One black eyebrow shot up and then he sighed. “Why you desire to protect him is beyond me. If you knew the things he had done, if you knew the truth about him, you would think differently of him.”

Lysia held his gaze, unflinching even when it narrowed on her, filled with darkness and cruelty. He meant to make her feel differently about his servant, but his words had only made her feel closer to him.

Because if the people knew of the things she had done, if they knew the truth about her, they would think differently of her too.

They would think her a monster.

They would rise up to strike her down.

N
evar kept hold of Lysia’s hand as they stepped out of Asmodeus’s swirling black portal and onto the white sand of the tropical island. The heat hit him hard and he squinted against the early morning light, cursing the sun. Lysia gasped and her grip on his hand tightened. He looked across his shoulder at her to find her staring at the sand.

Her wide hazel eyes darted up to his and then swept across the island, taking in the turquoise water of the curved bay to their right and then the leafy green canopy of the forest that filled the centre of the island to their left.

She went to move off and he held her firm, keeping her in place beside him. He wasn’t sure how the others would react to them bringing a stranger to this place of sanctuary. Asmodeus had warned that he had been greeted with violence when he had first dared to come here, and he’d had Apollyon with him at the time. Apollyon was adored by the entire group, except for Asmodeus, who had a love-hate relationship with his doppelganger.

Einar and Taylor went on ahead, crossing the white sand to the fire pit where the others waited. Einar had contacted Marcus through telepathy, a gift all angels of Heaven shared and Einar had retained even though he was currently without wings, and his fallen status was pending investigation. The jury was still out on whether Taylor should be counted as demon or human. If the verdict came back human, then Einar could have his wings and status restored. Nevar wasn’t sure the angel would desire to serve Heaven again, after everything he had witnessed since falling.

Marcus had sent a message back that they would allow them to visit the island, but that Einar and Taylor had to meet with them first and explain what was happening.

Nevar waited, watching them interacting with the group, hoping they wouldn’t turn them away and would be able to take Lysia in. Asmodeus had made it clear that they needed to continue their mission as soon as Lysia was settled on the island and they had informed the others that the Great Destroyer had awoken.

“I will retrieve Liora,” Asmodeus said and threw his right hand forwards. The air there darkened and black ribbons formed, shifting slowly at first but gaining speed, gradually beginning to spin together into a vortex.

When it was large enough, his wretched master cast him a look that he couldn’t fail to understand and then stepped through the portal. It closed behind him.

Nevar would do as ordered. He would ensure that the female didn’t harm anyone on the island, keeping her promise. Despite the fact these people didn’t trust him, part of him cared about them, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise.

He kept his eyes on Lysia, avoiding looking at the group as another figure emerged from one of the small huts built beneath the towering palms.

He felt the weight of her gaze on him and closed his eyes, steeling himself against it and the darkness that swirled through him in response, filling his mind with a replay of every terrible thing he had done. He tried to shut out the images but they only came faster, a rapid succession of bloodshed, violence, sex, and death. Every transgression he had committed.

Every demon bitch he had fucked before killing, chasing a high that had damned him to darkness.

He released Lysia’s hand and turned his back on her, struggling to breathe as it all overwhelmed him and afraid he would taint her with his impurity, passing all of his black sins on to her somehow.

“Nevar?” she whispered, her voice a soft soothing melody that reached out to him, bathing him in warmth that chased the chill from his skin. “You are unwell again.”

He nodded and dug his fingers into his white hair, hanging his head in shame. He hated her seeing him like this, a weak and despicable creature. A mess. A man destroyed by his own stupid actions and his own weak nature.

Her warm fingers caressed the bare strip of skin between the back plate of his armour and his hip pieces, stroking across his spine as she moved around him. They drifted over his hip, stealing all of his focus without him knowing it, drawing it all to her and away from himself.

She floated into view, an ethereal thing, more fantasy than reality to him. Her head tilted, causing the sleek fall of her black hair to clear her shoulder as she dipped lower, bringing her face into his field of vision. Her hazel eyes found his and she smiled, her rosy lips curving sweetly. There was no curiosity in her gaze this time. No distance held between them. She wasn’t looking at him from afar, studying him as if he were nothing more than a stranger to her, one with an affliction that interested her.

She was looking at him as if he meant something and she desired to help him.

As if she knew her touch was black magic and stole his suffering away.

She lifted her hands to his face and cupped both cheeks. “Tell me what plagues you.”

He shook his head. He would never tell her such dreadful things. Asmodeus had been right. If she knew his bloody history, she would view him with different eyes, ones devoid of the light he was coming to crave seeing in them.

Her smile faltered but she rallied. “I only want to help you.”

He knew that but he still couldn’t bring himself to confess his sins to her.

“Erin.” A deep male voice boomed across the island, a note of warning in the low growl.

“I want to see her,” a lighter female voice replied and his heart jerked in his chest and he shot back, away from Lysia, and swiftly turned to face the owner of it.

Erin strode across the white sand, her black summer dress fluttering around her thighs and her bare feet eating up the distance between them. Her short black bob bounced with every determined stride, the red stripe down the right hand side shining brightly in the morning light.

Her formidable husband followed her, the ex-Hell’s angel growling as his eyes blazed gold edged with crimson, a sign he was on the verge of unleashing his other side and his anger on the world. His long legs gave him an advantage over Erin, carrying him faster across the sand, but it wasn’t quick enough for the angel’s liking. He beat crimson wings, the sudden blast of wind sending sand in all directions and tousling his overlong scarlet hair, and closed the distance between him and Erin.

Erin disappeared and reappeared further ahead of him.

“Goddammit, Sweetheart, will you give it a rest?” the immense male growled and beat his wings again, catching up with her.

Erin smiled wickedly, clearly enjoying annoying her husband, and her amber gaze met Nevar’s.

He shrank back and cast his gaze down at his boots.

She huffed and only stopped walking when she was practically toe-to-toe with him. “Are you still refusing to look at me?”

He closed his eyes.

“You don’t even want to see the baby?”

That gave him pause. He hadn’t seen the child yet, had thought he wouldn’t be welcome near it. She wanted him to meet the tiny babe?

She trusted him near it?

He opened his eyes and sought the answer in hers. She smiled at him and looked to her left.

Veiron stood there, towering several inches taller than Nevar, his broad chest bare and his thickly muscled arms held closed over it. Nevar frowned. Not closed over it. Closed protectively over a black swathed bundle.

The bundle wriggled.

“You know he gives me hell when you teleport,” Veiron grumbled and gently rocked the bundle.

His son.

Nevar swallowed hard.

The Devil’s grandson.

“Play nice,” Veiron said and Nevar wasn’t sure whether the angel was speaking to him or the baby as he uncurled his arms, revealing a chubby little face.

The black cloth fell away from the baby’s head, so he could see the boy’s thick black hair and tiny dark horns.

“Thankfully, Dante didn’t have those when he decided to say hi to the world.” Erin lovingly stroked the small horns, still beaming.

The baby wriggled and opened his eyes. Golden irises swirled brightly, flecked with black.

Nevar tried to stop himself from saying it but his mouth overrode his brain. “He looks like Asmodeus.”

Veiron scowled at him. “He’s my kid, and there’s proof of it.”

Nevar hadn’t been suggesting that Erin had produced the child with Asmodeus’s help but the similarities between the two were striking. Dante had horns.

Veiron carefully shifted the squirming boy in his arms, lifting him by his armpits. The black blanket fell down, revealing the proof Veiron had mentioned.

Tiny clusters of puffy red feathers on the baby’s shoulders.

“Aren’t they to die for?” Erin brushed her fingers over them and the boy giggled, kicking his legs and bouncing up and down. “He loves it, just like his daddy does.”

Nevar nodded dumbly, astounded by the little miracle of life. It was Erin’s DNA that had allowed her to have a child with Veiron. As the Devil’s daughter, she shared her father’s powers, including the ability to make life even when her mate, Veiron, was an angel and therefore sterile.

Veiron grinned at his son, lifting him higher into the air. “She loves your wings right now, Little Fella, but she will hate them when you start using them. We can all imagine the trouble you’re gonna be.”

Nevar had to agree with that. The thought of a child, too young to know the dangers of the world, having wings that could carry him high into the air or out over the sea, sent a shudder through him.

Erin was his ward and when he had discovered she was pregnant, he had extended his protection to her son.

“I think we can handle him between the thirteen of us,” Erin said, still smiling.

“Thirteen?” Nevar frowned at that.

She nodded. “Veiron, me… Amelia and Marcus of course… and Apollyon and Serenity come all the time now. Plus Einar and Taylor when they can make it to the island with a little lift, and Lukas and Annelie are due to visit any day now. Even Liora visits and I think Asmodeus is a sucker for punishment or something because he insists on bringing her and gets himself into trouble with my father every time.”

“That’s twelve.” Nevar looked at the boy. “Does Dante make thirteen?”

How could the boy look after himself?

“You’re lucky number thirteen.” Veiron bounced Dante in his arms, grinning like a madman at the infant, eliciting a high squeal from him and more wriggling.