Her Avenging Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 7) (41 page)

Asmodeus dispatched two angels with one single thrust of his sword, skewering both of them, and a third with his shadows, wrapping them around the male’s neck and squeezing the life out of him.

Nevar attacked the next angel who stood between him and Lysia, a younger-looking fair-haired male who was gripping the hilt of his sword so tightly that it shook and his knuckles blazed white.

He sighed and put all of his strength into a swift right uppercut as he reached the male, landing a hard blow on his jaw and cheek and snapping his head backwards. The sword fell from the angel’s grip and he dropped, landing hard on top of a cell below Nevar, sprawled out but alive.

He really didn’t have the heart to kill newly reborn angels. It seemed cruel of Heaven to send them out to face him and his friends with zero training and experience. Lambs to the slaughter.

Nevar knocked another angel out with the hilt of his sword to the temple as the male dared to attempt an attack on him.

Asmodeus cut down three more of the angels and eyed the two unconscious ones below them. His right eyebrow lifted and he looked at Nevar.

Nevar turned his back on him. Asmodeus could point out that he had lost his mind later. He knew that an enemy was an enemy, but he preferred his enemies to at least know how to wield a sword.

He beat his black wings and sped over the remaining rings of cells. The door at the base of the tower came into view and he swooped towards it, Asmodeus following close behind him. The nearer he came to reaching the immense round white tower, the clearer he could feel Lysia.

He sent his weapons away, pressed his hand to his chest and landed in front of the black door.

“I am here.” He reached towards the door with his other hand, his palm facing it, but held back from touching it.

He needed to reach her. He needed to have her back in his arms and know that she was safe.

Was this how Asmodeus had felt when he had come to save Liora from the crystal chamber?

He looked across at the male in question as he allowed the darkness to recede from his body, leaving only his forearms and lower legs black. Asmodeus transformed back too, the inky shadows draining from his bloodstained skin.

When Asmodeus looked his way, he dropped his gaze, unable to look him in the eye when guilt churned his stomach, eating away at him like acid. He had made so many mistakes, and he wasn’t sure whether he could ever make amends, or if he would ever deserve the forgiveness of those he had hurt.

Asmodeus placed his hand on Nevar’s right shoulder and Nevar briefly closed his eyes, absorbing the silent comfort and forgiveness that his master offered him, and offering the same forgiveness to Asmodeus. They had both done terrible things to each other, but now they could move past those things and work together to create a better future.

The one they both wanted.

Veiron landed on Nevar’s other side and Marcus touched down shortly after him and strolled towards the black door.

The former guardian angel held his left hand out to it and the black slowly faded, revealing a dark interior.

Nevar slipped free of Asmodeus’s grip and entered the cell, wary of his surroundings in case someone attempted to kill him in the same manner he had tried to kill Asmodeus when he had been on the verge of rescuing Liora.

Lysia lay in the middle of the cold room, her black hair spilling like ribbons of ink across the white floor and her arms wrapped around her knees, tucking them against her stomach and chest. She looked too small and frail like that. Vulnerable.

He growled and held his hand out, focusing on her as he called a black robe. The soft material appeared on her bare body, covering her, stitched with silver embroidery of dragons around the lower third. A garment worthy of his beautiful destroyer.

Asmodeus entered behind him.

“We must move.”

Nevar nodded, stooped and scooped Lysia up into his arms. She settled against him, her weight in his arms, her warmth and her scent all a comfort to him, one that brought the reality of everything he had been through over the past few days crashing down on his shoulders. He trembled and tucked her closer to him, telling himself that she was safe now and they would never be apart again. He had no reason to fear.

He had fought for her and he had won her back.

No one would take her from him.

He turned and found himself facing a line of seven angels from different divisions. Not newly reborn. Not even from the normal ranks. These angels were the superior officers of Heaven.

Their power rose, buffeting him, but he held his ground, refusing to fall under the pressing weight of it. Marcus, Veiron and Asmodeus stood their ground outside the cell. Nevar moved to join them, each step draining him as he fought the incredible power of the angels.

He stopped in line with Asmodeus and Veiron, and stared at the seven angels. Marcus glared at one of them, a guardian angel with short sandy hair and cold dark eyes. Did they know each other?

The power they emitted weakened, the pressure on Nevar lessening.

Or was he growing stronger?

He looked down at Lysia where she lay unconscious in his arms. Shadows crawled up his biceps and under his armour, and spread over his thighs. His darker side. As it rose within him, the pressing weight of the seven angels grew weaker, until it no longer bothered him at all.

Asmodeus stepped forwards and tipped his head back, glaring down at the seven angels. Sweat dotted the brow of the one under Marcus’s scrutiny. Two more looked ready to fall to their knees.

Even in their injured and weakened states, seven of the strongest angels in Heaven were no match for them.

That knowledge filled him with strength and his power rose with it as his fear fell away. These angels were in no position to take Lysia from him. They would die if they dared to attempt it and they knew it. An angel from the division of death, in his black armour edged with gold, crashed to his knees and the man Marcus targeted with his power followed him. Pain etched deep lines on their faces as they pressed their hands into their knees and breathed hard.

Behind the seven angels, Apollyon landed on the flat top of the white hexagonal cells, his long black hair loose and flowing over his shoulders and his eyes swirling vivid blue. He furled his great obsidian wings against his back.

Amelia landed beside him, frowned at Marcus, and her eyes shone bright silver. She kicked off again, flying to him and slowly descending towards him. He turned his glare away from the single guardian angel he had targeted and raised his left hand to her. She slipped hers into it and drifted down into his arms.

Einar and Lukas hit the roof behind Apollyon hard and huffed as they walked to the edge of it behind the seven angels.

“I am so out of practice,” Einar grumbled and pressed his right hand to his bleeding side. “Who knew you could forget the tricks of fighting while flying in only a few years?”

Lukas shot him a smile and raised his hand. “I did. You’ll get the knack of it again.”

“Are these angels in your way?” Apollyon turned cold blue eyes on the seven.

Two more dropped to their knees and curled over to press their hands into the white ground as Apollyon’s power rose, pressing against them from behind.

“I do not think so, but we could ask them, Brother.” Asmodeus grinned wickedly, a cruel edge to his golden gaze as he raked it over the angels. “I feel I have not had enough exercise yet today.”

Apollyon looked inclined to agree to Asmodeus’s suggestion that they take on the seven angels. Nevar stepped forwards to capture their attention and remind them why they had come to Heaven, and that attacking the angels would only lead to more bad blood between their group and this realm. As much as he desired to deal more pain to Heaven, he didn’t want to provoke this realm into coming after Lysia.

He hoped to do the opposite.

“You have no right to take her.” The sandy-haired guardian angel tried to stand.

Marcus glared at him again and he grunted as he collapsed back onto his knees.

“You are mistaken.” Nevar stared down at the male. “You are the one who had no right to take her. She is not yours to keep. She is not Hell’s to keep. She is mine to keep. I am her master.”

The angel narrowed his dark eyes on Nevar. “You are not her master anymore. You cannot control her. She must be held here.”

Nevar dropped his gaze to Lysia’s soft face. “I will be her master again. We have a way to restore the bond. With it restored, and with the pledge of Heaven and Hell that they will not seek to provoke her into awakening again, she will no longer be a threat to this world. She will no longer be a pawn in your games.”

He slid his focus back to the angel and held Lysia closer to his chest.

“Heaven and Hell are the reason she was created and the reason she awakened… it was because of the war you waged with the demons that she awakened last time.” He stepped forwards to tower over the angel and held his gaze, forcing the male to look up at him. “And it was because of the four angels you created, princes of Hell who are now free in the mortal world, that she awakened this time. Heaven and Hell will no longer play with her life and torment her with her death.”

Nevar narrowed his eyes on the angel, his irises swirling violet as he unleashed more of his power, using it to warn the seven present that he would crush them if they tried to come after Lysia.

“It is time someone else was responsible for her, someone who loves her and will do all in their power to keep her safe from harm. I will ensure she never awakens again.” He reined in his power and the others followed suit, allowing the seven angels to regain their feet and smooth their ruffled feathers.

“In exchange for your compliance in this matter,” Apollyon said, drawing the attention of the seven around to him. He stood over them still, atop the cell opposite Nevar, his blue eyes swirling but his power gradually lessening back to the usual level he emitted. “We shall assist you in any way we can in capturing the four fallen angels. We will protect the mortal realm from them.”

Asmodeus nodded. “You have our word that we will aid your five angels in seeking out the four fallen and sending them back to Hell and my master before they can carry out their plans. He will put an end to them.”

The sandy-haired guardian angel bowed his head. “We will accept your terms. Our four angels have already gone in search of them.”

“Four?” Nevar frowned.

The male looked over his shoulder at him. “Lysander has been captured by the fallen. Our four will be able to sense him and may discover his location before anything happens, but the fallen will attempt to destroy his conduit in order to release his power and weaken his brothers.”

That didn’t sound good.

“What conduit?” Apollyon said, the fire in his blue eyes dying as he looked down at the seven angels. Their expressions turned grave and Apollyon’s followed them, his black eyebrows drawing down into a frown.

The guardian angel closed his eyes and lowered his head.

“The female linked to his soul.”

B
lack. It was everywhere.

A slash of red. Small at first. Growing. It flowed like a river, a stream running downwards.

Silence, and then a roar.

The sound startled her, so loud and vicious, and flooded with pain.

Agony that beat inside her.

Inside the river of blood that flowed over deepest black.

White. It pierced the red and severed the black. It glowed so brightly that it blinded her and she tried to reach out to touch it, but it shrank, sinking into the river of blood.

Into her.

She threw her head back and screamed out her agony as white flames ripped through her chest.

“Did it work?”

That voice swam around her in the darkness, a light ethereal sound that she tried to grasp but it slipped through her fingers and sank into the black. A second voice answered it, as soft and warm as the first, appearing as a delicate ribbon of purple that danced across the obsidian sky.

“I don’t know… I hope so.”

Silence. With more confidence.

“I think so.”

She reached for that voice too and the violet ribbon. It curled around her fingers, turned crimson, and dripped from them like blood, fat drops that shone and fell into the endless dark below her.

The pain lessened, drifted away with each drop that fell.

Colours emerged, startling orange and deepest red, splattered across black. Blue and gold followed them, and dusky earthen tones. White streaked across her vision and she reared back, fearing it.

It shimmered before her, twin spots on an inky canvas, crowned with silver-white.

The distorted figure came into view, slowly gaining form and sharpness.

“Did it work?”

A male this time, the deep timbre of his voice familiar and comforting.

Come back to me, Lysia.

The words echoed in her mind, shimmering brightly in flashes of violet as she stared at the figure forming before her. He stood with his hand outstretched towards her. Red with blood.

We have a way to restore the bond between us.

Great black wings beat the air, holding him before her, and black covered parts of him. Edged with violet.

We can be together again, and I swear to you, I will never leave you…

His form sharpened. Black horns. Silver-white hair. A flash of an image of her hand running through that hair. A sensation of savouring the silken feel of it beneath her fingers. A brief flood of warmth that poured into her weary soul.

Because…

His violet eyes held her transfixed, his heart shining in them, every emotion that his words relayed straight to hers.

I love you.

Love. A thousand flashes of images careened through her mind. All of this angel who hovered before her, his hand stained with his own blood, pressed against her beak. Not an enemy to be destroyed. An ally.

She pushed and reached for him too, fighting her body, willing it to move. She battled for a voice, a way of telling him the words that beat in her heart.