Her Demonic Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 5) (5 page)

Erin envied Amelia for having him in her life.

“I want to keep moving.” She started off without him, following the winding path that was surrounded by black jagged rocks and bleached bones and stretched into an equally dark and bleak distance.

Erin was beginning to hate black.

The man easily caught up with her in a few long-legged strides and fell into step beside her, his broadsword strapped to his back again. He cut an imposing figure as he strolled along beside her, his air casual yet throwing off a lethal don’t-even-try-it vibe.

She wanted to give him the silent treatment but it had been days since she had spoken to someone and he was currently her mind and heart’s favourite subject. She wanted the goods on this man, every juicy bit of them.

“So... were you a captive here once too and that’s why you know your way around?” That question hung in the air between them.

His lip curled, revealing a flash of straight white teeth, and he frowned.

Clearly, he was still pissed at her for touching him. Well, sorry. She couldn’t have stopped herself if she had tried. She still wouldn’t be able to if she so much as glanced at the scars that he had evidently tattooed around, as though they were central to the design.

He was silent a few seconds longer and then looked down at her out of the corner of his eye and smiled.

Erin walked on a few paces, towards a long sloping drop into a valley below. She glanced down, seeing that the path she was on turned a corner ahead and continued close to a hundred feet below her.

He finally spoke. “You could say that I’m local.”

That unnerved her, especially when coupled with the bright crimson that flared in his dark irises, a corona surrounding his narrowed pupils.

Erin stepped away from him, backing towards the edge where it was rocky and the stones were loose underfoot. Her gaze darted down to the path far below her. Her footing was poor where she was but she didn’t want to be near him until she was sure it was safe. She would sooner risk falling than being within his reach.

He frowned at her and then at her feet, and held his hand out to her. “Come away from the edge.”

Erin shook her head.

If he was something terrible, then she was going to hit the slope, slide down to the path below and make a break for it. She would probably cut her bare legs up but it was better than being tortured by a demon. Had he only rescued her so he could toy with her and hurt her? Was this just another trick after all?

Her sister would never associate with something demonic and evil.

“Do you work for the Devil?” Erin shuffled backwards. His dark eyes flicked to her feet and then back to her eyes, and he stretched his hand closer to her, an impatient and concerned expression on his face. The Devil could change his appearance. This man had a voice that could melt her and so had the Devil. They were one and the same. “Are you the Devil?”

He laughed. “Hell, no. I’m not that evil. Do I look like I go around getting manicures between torture sessions?” He sighed and smiled at her. “I swear to you, Erin. I’m not here to hurt you... and I will keep you safe. Trust me?”

“No, I don’t trust you. I don’t even know you... you say you’re local but you don’t work for the bastard who held me captive, and you expect me to believe that shit?” She edged further away from him and he frowned, his eyes narrowing and expression switching to one of irritation. Anger flared in his eyes.

He growled, low and vicious, and the flecks of red in his eyes brightened. “I expect you to believe it because it’s the truth. I hate the bastard who kidnapped you, and would like nothing more than a chance at separating his head from his body. I’m risking my neck to save you and you dare accuse me of being the one loathsome creature I despise above all others?”

Erin backed off another step as he advanced one, until the balls of her feet hit the slope. Her heart thumped out a hard rhythm against her breastbone and blood rushed through her ears. His gaze locked on hers, challenging her to accuse him again, to voice any belief she still had that he was unworthy of her trust. She trembled and stared up into his eyes, searching them for a sign that he was lying to her.

His anger seemed genuine, born of hatred for a man that she too despised and disgust at being compared with him. He couldn’t blame her for being cautious though, surely? After everything she had been through, it was only natural for her to think everyone in this horrible place was out to get her, and he had admitted that he was a local.

The man backed off at last, the anger in his eyes melting away together with the red, leaving his irises dark. He sighed, his shoulders heaving with it, grimaced and rubbed a hand over his face.

“What am I supposed to say to make you believe me?” he whispered and met her gaze again. “Tell me that, Erin. I’ve trekked through Hell to find you, have fought and killed to reach you, have carried you and tended to you. I’ve risked my life to save you. Doesn’t that make me worthy of a little trust? You think I want to be here?”

No, she didn’t. He had mentioned more than once that he was risking everything by being in Hell, by saving her, and she felt terrible for doubting him.

He held his hand out to her again. “I swear to you, Erin, that I mean you no harm and I am here purely to rescue you and reunite you with your sister. Will you trust me to do that? Can you trust me?”

Erin’s better judgement said not to but she slipped her trembling right hand into his and stepped away from the edge. She looked up into his eyes. They glowed red around the edges again and in the centre too, highlighting his wide pupils. His gaze locked with hers and rocked her with a jolt that reached her soul.

“What’s your name?” she whispered, captivated by his eyes and lost in them. They had more power over her than the Devil’s had. She wanted to stare into their flaming depths for all eternity.

“Veiron,” he husked, his warm breath caressing her face, and Erin’s senses came alive, lighting up like an electrical storm. His masculine scent of dirt, aftershave and fresh sweat filled her nostrils. The warmth of his hand clasping hers heated her right down to her bones. The sound of his voice made her blood burn to hear him speak again. Her gaze delighted in discovering every tiny fleck of fire in his dark irises. The only sense left was one that cried out for a taste of him.

She might be losing her mind, but she knew without a doubt that she wanted this man regardless of what he was.

He was the most dangerous man she had ever met and he belonged to her sister, but there was something about him, something sensual and powerful, deadly and alluring, that she couldn’t resist. He had the smile of a demon, the body of a god, and the tenderness of an angel when he let his guard down.

Her captivity had been a nightmare.

But travelling through Hell with this man at her side was going to be a worse form of torture.

CHAPTER 4

T
he last time Erin had spoken to him, it had been to point out that he jingled with each step and that, because he was apparently a guy who could move with stealth, it didn’t suit him. She had fallen quiet after he had touched the leather thong he tied his scarlet hair up with and told her that it was a gift from a lover, and that the two small bells attached to each end were there to ward off evil. A protection charm.

A short time after that, she had trodden on a sharp rock and had sworn at him and swatted his hand away when he had tried to help her and offered to carry her again. She had turned her nose up and hobbled on defiantly.

That had been hours ago.

Veiron wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve her wrath, but she was dishing it out like there was no tomorrow.

He walked a few paces behind her, close enough that he could easily intervene should anyone dare attack her and could touch her shoulder to direct her whenever she took a wrong turn, which happened often when she was in the lead.

Erin was nothing like he had expected her to be. He had pictured her looking like her sister, with silver-grey eyes and full breasts, and the sort of attitude that said she was in command and everyone had better fall in line or suffer the consequences.

The willowy woman storming ahead of him looked little like the one he had left in the jungle just a few days ago. She had the most incredible amber eyes, an impish nose and sensual soft full lips, curves in all the best places, and small firm breasts that promised to fill his hands quite nicely. Not a trace of make-up touched her face and she didn’t need it to enhance her natural beauty. Even with the smudges of dirt and the faint bruises, she was breathtaking and he was finding it hard to keep his eyes off her.

The lilac streak down the right side of her sleek black bob said that when she got out of Hell and got herself dressed, it would be in clothes similar to those he preferred.

No pretty colourful summer dresses and cute pumps for this woman.

She would go for all black and utter rebellion to match her hair and that sassy attitude of hers. When he had finally found her cell, having almost freed the wrong woman, something he would be having words with Amelia about later since she had failed to adequately describe her sister, and had opened the door, she had faced him with defiance in her eyes that had almost masked the underlying fear. She had asked whether he was there to kill her and the set of her jaw and tilt of her chin proclaimed that if he was, she was damn well going to fight him. Layers of filth, some bruises, and dark circles beneath her eyes spoke of what she had been through during her captivity but he still couldn’t believe that she had survived the one thing that would have had most people on their knees.

He had almost choked when she had told him the Devil himself had come to see her.

The bastard normally stayed closer to the centre of the pit, safe in his fortress, only venturing out when bored to torture any poor soul that happened to pass by.

Erin had fire in her all right. Not the uptight and I’m-the-boss sort that Amelia had. No, Erin’s attitude was all defiance and fight, strength and determination to survive.

When Veiron had called her weak, she had looked as though she had come close to slapping him. He couldn’t imagine the hell she had given the Devil. The man had a tendency to try to bargain and Erin didn’t look like the sort his bargaining would work on. He hoped the bastard had come away smarting and with his pride thoroughly dented.

Veiron smiled and checked himself when his gaze slid down Erin’s spine to her backside, the black tank and shorts combo almost doing him in. He wished he had been the one who had taken her from her bed. He had heard the rumours while travelling through Hell to free her. The Devil had sent one of Veiron’s kind to retrieve her in the dead of night. Mercy, he would have had a hard time carrying out that command. Take her from her bed and bring her down to the Devil? Hell, he would have just taken her.

He looked off to his right, using his senses to track her instead and shoving aside thoughts of bedding her. The area they were passing through was quiet enough but they were coming up on a rough one inhabited by countless lower forms of demon that had a taste for human flesh. He would have to keep Erin close to mask her mortal scent with his own immortal and demonic one.

Erin grumbled and hopped a few paces. She raised her right foot, catching it in her hands and bending forwards so she could see the sole. Veiron cocked his head to one side, appreciating her graceful form, and then told himself that as soon as Erin was safe, he was leaving. He had only agreed to come for her because Amelia had gone all weepy on him and Marcus had given him a black look that promised pain if he refused her request to save her little sister. Once Erin was back in her arms, he would resume his pursuit of the one thing that had kept his cold heart warm these past few centuries in Hell.

Revenge.

As an angel, he had lived by the same creed as the rest. The mission was what mattered. He had never felt any allegiance to those words until recent years. Now the mission was all he could think about. It was all he dreamed about. Hunger for vengeance lived in his veins, keeping his heart pumping and his feet moving forwards.

It wouldn’t be satisfied until he had the Devil’s head on a spike and had shaken Heaven to its foundations.

Until that moment of victory was his, Veiron wouldn’t rest.

And he certainly wouldn’t get involved with a mortal female. As tempting as she was, he wasn’t what she needed in her life. He could never give her what she needed and she would be a complication that he couldn’t afford. A weakness. A need to protect her had been steadily building inside him since he had opened her cell door and set eyes on her. That need included protecting her from himself. She had been through enough in the past few weeks. As soon as she was with Amelia, he was gone, out of there. Danger followed him everywhere, constant and unrelenting, and he wasn’t about to drag a mortal female into his life and into the path of that.

Erin might think she was strong, but in his world, she was weak. A kitten. A baby. She wouldn’t last five seconds against the lowest form of demon in this realm, let alone the beasts that hunted him on a nightly basis.

She would become a pawn, something they could use to distract and weaken him, and that was something he didn’t wish on anyone.

No. The sooner Erin was out of his life, the better it was for everyone involved.

His back shivered, the scars where his wings hid tingling with the memory of that soft sweep of her fingers.

She had just had to touch him, hadn’t she? He had noticed from the moment he had stormed into her cell that Erin was as forward about being forward as he had ever seen. Hell, she was so far ahead of forward that forward looked chaste and innocent. The heat of her gaze on him had been hard enough to handle but when she had dared to run her hand down his bare back, he had felt her touch as a fifty thousand volt shock.

His wings had pushed for freedom and it had taken every ounce of his considerable willpower to convince them it would be a bad idea. Very bad. One tiny crimson feather emerging from his back would be enough to send a warning straight through Hell to his former boss, alerting him to Veiron’s exact location in his domain.