Touch of the Angel (Demons of Infernum, #3) (9 page)

“Everyone has a choice.” Dagan kicked his shoes off and placed his feet on top of the coffee table. “I would rather die than be forced to kill woman after woman.”

Yeah, him too, but... “She’s different from us. She has to kill to survive.”

Taeg plunked his empty glass down. “No she doesn’t. She could get all the energy she needs from an incubus and nobody would have to die. That’s what a lot of the sex demons on this world do.”

He couldn’t argue with that logic, and that sucked. Ronin headed toward the bar in one corner of the room and poured himself a whiskey, taking a deep swallow before he spoke again. “So what now?”

They all turned to Keegan who, as eldest, called the shots. Some of the time, at any rate.

“We don’t know much more than when we started,” Keegan said. “We’ll need to do some research, see if we can figure out what Asmodeus might be doing with this energy he takes in. Tomorrow night we’ll watch his townhouse. Maybe we can get some ideas about how to get through that shield.”

“And the succubus?” Dagan asked.

“We’ll turn her in to the Council.”

“No.” The hoarse word escaped Ronin’s mouth before he’d even realized it.

Taeg groaned. “Come on, bro. Think with your
big
head here. She’s trouble. Especially for you. Have you forgotten that doing the mattress mambo with her will
kill
you?”

“It’s not that.” He tried to keep the emotion of out of his voice. “We don’t yet know how important she is to Asmodeus. Maybe we’ll be able to use her to capture him.”

“Huh.” Taeg rubbed his scruffy chin. “Much as I hate to admit it, you’ve got a point there.”

“That doesn’t mean she has to stay free.” Dagan crossed his arms behind his head. “We can turn her in to the Council and get her back later if we need to.”

Ronin glowered at Dagan.
Shut up
. To Keegan he said, “You know the Council and all its bureaucratic bullshit. Remember what they did, or rather
didn’t
do, when we were trying to stop Mammon?”

After the Council had learned that their father Mammon planned to take over Earth by raising an army of the undead, they’d sent Keegan and his brothers to stop him by any means necessary. Even if it meant destroying the key to the zombie resurrection spell, a mortal woman who had the power to raise them from their graves. As it happened, Keegan had fallen in love with her instead. In the end they’d managed to take Mammon down and turn him in to the Council, and Brynn had used her power over the zombies to negotiate their move to this dimension.

“Remember how they ordered you to kill Brynn?”

That was a low blow, and Keegan’s wince told Ronin it had made its mark. Though Keegan had never considered destroying Brynn once he’d fallen for her, he had dealt with a lot of guilt over his inability to keep his pledge to the Council. It made Ronin feel like an asshat to use that horrible memory against his brother, but nothing he’d said was a lie.

“We still don’t know the full extent of Amara’s role in all this,” Ronin said. “If she’s an innocent pawn, it would be pretty shitty of us to turn her over without ensuring she gets a fair trial.”

From the way Keegan’s shoulders hunched over, Ronin knew he’d made his point. “On top of that, Keeg, do you really want to trust that they’ll give her back when we need her?”

Keegan sighed. “Another good point. So where do we keep her?”

Dagan let out a chuckle. “Let me guess. In your bed.”

“Ha, funny. We’ll keep her here. We can take turns guarding her,” he added, lest they think he had other designs on Amara.

Keegan gave a defeated shake of his head. “If we’re not turning her in right away, I don’t see any other option.”

“Well, this should be a barrel of laughs.” Taeg stomped over to the bar and grabbed a beer out of the mini-fridge. “Can’t wait ’til this job is over.”

Chapter Seven

Daybreak was almost upon them, and Amara had yet to bring him Lucio’s essence. She should have returned by now. Knowing the consequences, would she dare fail him yet again?

Asmodeus gritted his teeth and stalked from his main chamber to the balcony that lined a good portion of the third floor. At times he didn’t know why he bothered with Amara. She was the strongest-willed of his six succubi, often finding ways to thwart his authority. Beyond annoying, she was. He would have destroyed her long ago, but she was still useful. Given her willful streak, he hadn’t trusted assigning the bounty hunters to her, but she’d been good at collecting backup men. Just in case he couldn’t retrieve the brothers’ essences in time.

The dark elf Asmodeus had assigned to Amara was a perfect specimen. Powerful. Successful. A good find. Not the brothers Belpheg had ordered him to get, but a close second, one he hoped he wouldn’t need. Amara should have been able to seduce Lucio.

So where was she?

His succubi were the best of their kind. Intelligent. Beautiful. Capable of luring in countless prey. None more so than Amara. He loved them all, the way any master should love his prized pets. And if they disobeyed...the punishment was always severe.

The first few tendrils of light snaked up along the horizon, like coils of lightning shooting off the neighboring rooftops. Almost daybreak, and still no sign of her. He stroked the gold band around his wrist, the one linking him to each of his succubi. Where was she?

With a muttered curse, he pushed off the iron railing and walked inside. He left his opulent chamber and wound his way through the quiet hall, with its walls painted in terra-cotta that matched the exterior. Then he stepped down the curved staircase to the second level.

The door to one of the rooms opened and a bare-chested Gofrey stumbled out. He rubbed his bleary eyes. “Master, is there something I can do for you?”

“I’ll let you know.” Asmodeus swept past him without another word. He rounded a corner, entering the wing where his succubi slumbered, and passed Amara’s empty room. Solara’s chamber was next to hers, and he threw the door open. Even though it banged against the wall, she didn’t wake. She lay in the bed under sapphire silk sheets with her long, dark hair splayed across the pillows. She’d discarded her dress on the floor next to the bed, and as the dark shadows under her eyes attested, she’d only recently arrived from her evening’s escapades.

Did the stupid whore even know Amara hadn’t returned?

He stopped at the side of the bed and tore off the sheet.

“What the—” She sat up with a start, and he wound a hand around her hair, yanking back on it so her startled eyes could meet his.

“Where. Is. She?”

A glimmer of fear sparked in her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Amara. She hasn’t returned from her mission.”

“She hasn’t?” When she glanced toward the heavy curtains, a hint of concern replaced the fear on her face. “I have no idea where she is.”

Was the bitch lying?

Asmodeus jerked on her hair, forcing her to her feet. Her full, bare breasts bounced as she rose. Even though it had been less than an hour since he’d slaked his lust with one of the other succubi, and though he was still shaken from his last meeting with Belpheg, the sight of them awakened his interest. Solara had always been a beautiful woman—almost as beautiful as Amara. Even though she was twice Amara’s age, she only appeared a few years older. She had sex demon biology to thank for that. Outward appearances of aging ceased around the age of thirty.

Being in Solara’s presence reminded Asmodeus how much he cared for her. In his own way. Too bad that wasn’t enough for her. Why couldn’t she accept what he was prepared to offer her? Loyalty, faithfulness, undying love: none of those things she insisted on really mattered. All that mattered was power. And he had the power in this relationship.

His lips curved into a sneer. “Perhaps she’s tired of being your self-appointed protector and has simply decided to run away.”

“She would never do that,” Solara replied, bristling. “Besides, it’s not as if you would let her go, is it?”

The hint of despair that colored her final words brought a chuckle to his lips. “No. She’s my best whore. And I have you to thank for that, don’t I?”

Her mouth tightened but she didn’t reply. What could she say? She couldn’t deny it.

When her chest rose and fell on her next breath, he let his gaze drift down to her breasts. “You’d better hope she returns soon. Because you know what will happen if she doesn’t.”

Solara glared at him even as her body responded to his allure. “Fuck you.”

“You begged me to do that once,” he reminded her. “As I recall, you would have killed for my touch.”

When her eyes closed and her limbs softened, he allowed the fingers of his free hand to nestle through the short curls between her thighs, finding her bud and stroking it. Hmm...it had been quite some time since he’d had her, and she’d always been an enthusiastic lay.

Solara made a growling sound deep in her throat and shoved his hand away, breaking free of his grip. “Don’t
touch
me. That was part of your agreement.”

“Indeed.” Fighting back the burst of anger her words elicited, he adjusted his erection through his slacks. “Don’t forget, she made an agreement, too. And if she’s broken her pact, mine falls as well.”

She said nothing in response, only glared at him, her chest heaving.

Asmodeus leaned in toward her, whispering into her ear. “I may have agreed not to touch you, for the time being at least, but I will never let you go, Solara. You are mine. From the moment you slid that band on your wrist, you belonged to me. I
always
keep what’s mine.”

He turned his back on her and headed for the door.

“What are you going to do?” she called.

Asmodeus didn’t bother to respond.

It would take some time, but with the band, the one she could never remove without his consent, it was possible to track her. If Amara had betrayed him, if she thought to run away when he needed her most, then both she and Solara would pay dearly.

This was one distraction he couldn’t afford, not if he was to appease Belpheg.

While part of Asmodeus wished he could tell the dark fae to go to hell, he knew he never would. Thanks to Belpheg, he no longer suffered hallucinations or the irrational fear that he would be hunted down the way he’d been in the past. The dark fae had had given him power he’d never dreamed of.

He would do anything to keep it.

§

Tiny rays of sunlight filtered in from the thick wall-to-wall shades Ronin had drawn over the windows before he’d left her in his room. Amara would like to blame her inability to sleep on that, but she couldn’t.

Staying here wasn’t an option. Not when that meant subjecting Solara to Asmodeus’s whim. He’d probably hold off a day or two, but he’d hurt her again, and not merely physical pain. Worse than that—he knew how to wound her heart. As strong as Solara liked to pretend she was, Amara knew she wouldn’t be able to survive another heartbreak. And if Amara didn’t return at all...

He would kill her. She knew that without a shadow of a doubt.

Her eyes flickered over the modern, dark-wood computer desk directly across from the bed and her thoughts traveled to Ronin, who’d retreated to sleep in the living room. That he’d survived their encounter made her far happier than it ought to. If only she could be the coldhearted killing machine she’d agreed to be. But seeing him interact with his brothers had worn down her defenses. Their love for each other was so obvious, so true. He had family who cared about him. Who worried about him.

When had she ever truly felt loved or cared about? She couldn’t remember.

Surely Ronin had fallen asleep by now. If there ever was a time to try to escape, this was it. She’d have to deal with Asmodeus’s anger over her failure to hook Lucio, but that was better than the alternative. The fact that she might not feel loved didn’t mean she couldn’t love in return. Solara needed her. Not only that, but she had to face the truth—staying here, with Ronin, was far too dangerous. She would like to think she could control herself this time, but in her weakened state she might grow ravenous. Might unknowingly attack him like she did that night at Opiate. After all, she hadn’t fed the night before. Less than one more week without sustenance and she’d die.

Living with the belief she’d killed such a good, decent man had been painful. She couldn’t bear it if she killed Ronin for real this time. Or what if she became crazed with hunger and attacked one of his brothers? With her allure on full blast, she could be very hard to resist.

No
. She couldn’t stay.

Amara slid off the bed, careful not to make any sound that Ronin could pick up. After grabbing her heels, she held them in her hand and crept toward the door. Thank goodness for his brother’s frantic break-in earlier. Now she didn’t have to worry about turning the doorknob. She tucked her fingers into the hole and held her breath while slowly—very slowly—pulling the door open. When it gave only the slightest creak, she breathed a sigh of relief.

The low hum of a fan that sounded like it came from the living room cut into the relative silence. The urge to see Ronin one final time was almost overwhelming, considering she might never get to do so again. Sure, he would eventually apprehend Asmodeus, but no telling where she’d be by then. Maybe Asmodeus would kill her for failing this time
.

Amara fought back the longing to seek out Ronin. It would be too risky to step directly into the room he occupied. He might still be half awake, or he might hear her slightest movement and rouse from his sleep. So instead, she tiptoed down the long hall, bypassing the entrance to the living room, and headed into the foyer.

There it was—the front door. The very object that signaled both her escape...and her return to hell.

Good-bye, Ronin. Be safe.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her fingers around the dead bolt.

§

An entire flock of sheep could have paraded through Ronin’s living room and he still wouldn’t have slept. Good to see Dagan didn’t have that same problem. He’d volunteered to stay in the living room with Ronin to help “guard” Amara—i.e., babysit his ass as if he were a rebellious child who couldn’t be trusted. Only problem was, Dagan had dozed off first, the byproduct of too many consecutive nights of drinking, sex, and not enough shut-eye. He’d sprawled out on one of the overstuffed chairs next to the couch and had propped his bare feet up on the coffee table. Now, when he shifted his position, his mouth fell open on a snore that Ronin could barely hear over the whirring of the ceiling fan.

Ronin crossed his arms behind his head and thought about Amara, like he’d done a zillion times in the past hour. What were the odds of finding her in the home of his latest assignment? His feelings were too conflicted to even process. There was anger at what she’d allowed herself to become—nothing more than an object to lure men to their deaths. Sure, some would say she was well-suited to that purpose, but sex demons didn’t
have
to kill. His incubus friend Cresso was proof of that.

On top of that, there was something inside her, some sort of light that drew him. And it was more than succubus allure. Something about
her
specifically.

A whisper of a sound made his muscles tense. He sat up slowly, careful to avoid making any noise. The sound didn’t repeat, but his senses were on high alert. Amara’s musky fragrance was closer now than before, and it instantly made him rock-hard. He rose and untangled the thin sheet from around his legs. A blast of cool air from the ceiling fan hit his bare chest.

He stepped around the coffee table with the practiced grace of his angel heritage, careful not to wake Dagan. He made his way out of the living room...then froze.

Son of a bitch.
Amara stood at the front door, her long, delicate fingers closing over the lock. She was trying to
escape
? Really? She must know they’d track her back to Asmodeus. What was so important that she wanted to leave?

Ronin was upon her before she could register his presence. One hand clamped over her mouth while the other wound around her body, underneath her breasts. She tensed and he pulled her tight to his front, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Going somewhere?”

He didn’t want Dagan to wake up and witness her attempted escape, so he turned and led her toward his room. To give Amara credit, she didn’t try to struggle against him. Guess she knew that was futile. No fucking way he was letting her go.

Only once he’d made it back to his bedroom and closed the door did he release her. He kept his voice low. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

A brief flare of anger lit her eyes. “I told you I can’t stay here.”

“I don’t recall giving you an option.”

The shoes she held in one hand dropped to the floor with a thump. “You can’t keep me here against my will.”

Was she serious? “Yes I can. I’m a Detainor for the Council. Would you rather I turned you in to them directly?”

All her fight seemed to leave her in a rush. She padded over to the side of the bed and sat, her back slumped. She didn’t seem to notice that the movement practically pushed her breasts out of the top of her skimpy dress. “You don’t understand.”

Hell, he didn’t like to see her so sad and defeated. Not when he didn’t know why. He followed her to the bed and sat at her side, trying not to notice how sexy her bare toes were with their bright red nail polish, or how deliciously inviting she smelled. “So tell me.”

“I have to go back to him.”

Her words ignited a burst of fury within him. She didn’t actually care for that monster, did she? Maybe she loved him. Maybe that’s what she’d meant when she said he owned her.

“There’s nothing left for you there. It might not be today or even next week, but we will catch Asmodeus. He’ll be imprisoned, at the very least.”

“No.” She shook her head. “You’re wrong about that.”