Hellbound Warrior: (Dark Warrior Alliance Book Five) (14 page)

Illianna snatched her hand from his clasp, angrily, “Now, listen to me. I can appreciate the fact that you have this belief in Fated Mates, but that’s not how it works for angels. I haven’t chosen him and I’m not going to. Not that I don’t appreciate all you’ve done for me, but I don’t see my future with a demon and I can’t allow you to help me on the belief that I will.”

“To know me is to love me, Luscious,” he murmured winking at her, “but I will do anything necessary to protect you, regardless. All I ask is that you don’t make a decision until you get to know me better. Besides, you haven’t even tried my
hey juice
yet.”

“We all know about Rhys’ infamous
hey juice
and how it has the females spreading their legs,” Kellen chuckled.

Unsure of Kellen’s comment, Rhys glanced at his angel and noticed how she narrowed her eyes in displeasure. He grinned, her jealousy giving him hope.

“The portal is to the east of here, not that far,” Kellen continued, oblivious to the effect of his words.

“Are you certain?” Rhys asked, curious where he’d received his information.

“Very certain. The female I fucked patrols the border and liked to talk so I used that to my advantage,” Kellen replied silkily, skirting to the east.

“That was convenient,” Illianna grumbled. She was clearly annoyed with Kellen and unable to curb it.

“The Goddess does what she can to help her subjects. It was no mistake I was led to that female, just like it wasn’t a coincidence that we entered that club and Rhys insisted on taking you with us,” Kellen explained.

“He’s right,” Dante added. “I have faith that the Goddess is actively working to help us every step of the way.”

“You guys really believe your Goddess is helping demons?” Illianna asked, surprise in her tone. Any further words died on her tongue as they approached the veil.

There was a dark, iridescent shimmer in the air where the icy rain suddenly ceased. They had reached the entrance to the Fourth Circle. Rhys wrapped an arm around Illianna as they passed through. Taking the four steps to the next circle was harder than walking through ankle-deep mud. But, the flames banished the cold of the Third Circle as they danced across their skin. The eerie sensation of his soul pulling away from his body was minimal, maybe from having his Fated Mate at his side, he couldn’t tell.

Once on the other side, the lack of icy rains or high winds was a huge relief. The weather in the Fourth Circle was temperate, if a bit hot. Rhys wasn’t entirely certain the heat wasn’t just a lack of the cold.

They were in a heavily-populated, suburban area with homes dotting clearly defined streets. What drew Rhys’ attention were the individuals jousting on the backs of hellhounds. That was a new one, he thought, as a loud roar split the night, rising above the noise of the crowd before two opponents rushed each other.

They met with a clash of lances against shields, resulting in exploding wood. A horned-demon shoved what remained of his lance through the chest of a large human. The male crumpled to the ground and the demon jumped from the hellhound’s back onto the porch of a nearby house, claiming it as his own.

The sight was primal and violent. It was as if they’d stepped back to medieval times, clear that you had to fight for anything you obtained in this circle. How many of those watching wouldn’t turn them in to get the big house down the street? With word out about Illianna, Rhys feared their predicament was about to get worse.

Illianna couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Creatures were savagely fighting to procure homes. She didn’t understand why they would be willing to kill rather than cooperate and share the homes. They were all in the same boat of being trapped in the Fourth Circle of Hell. What led people to act like this? She wondered if there was a shortage of homes. From her vantage point it didn’t seem as if that was the case.

It could be that the leader in this circle created a shortage, forcing this type of behavior. Whatever the reason, she couldn’t relate, and, for the first time, had no desire to stop and try to bring them happiness and joy. She preferred to focus on fostering relationships, not material belongings.

“Looks like any neighborhood on earth,” Kellen commented.

Rhys snorted, “Yeah, if you ignore the slobbering hellhounds and demons on their backs. That’s not something you see in Queen Anne. Well, not usually, anyway.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve had demons in Seattle,” Kellen acknowledged. “Damn, we never get that kind of action in Tennessee and we have the Cave of Cruachan in our backyard. We have skirm out the ass, but rarely anything more. Maybe a Fae, or two, and Azazel did come through once.”

“I hate that fucking Azazel. He’s a cockroach that keeps coming back. And Kadir opened a portal right in the middle of Seattle, allowing several lesser demons to come through. You’ll never hear us complain about being bored in our city,” Rhys stated.

“True that,” Dante echoed. “Somehow, I imagined more gems and bigger houses in this circle. But then, when you are driven by greed, value is relative. It’s a disgusting display for sure.”

Illianna hated everything about Hell, she thought, as she watched the man who had been impaled pull the lance free and crawl away. They were surrounded by chaos, making it difficult to weave around the crowd and avoid the guards. She was too preoccupied by the scene around her and having a hard time keeping up with their group.

A guard glanced at her sharply and she touched her head, hoping her lack of hair didn’t tip anyone off to who she was. The guard quickly signaled another and then another and she panicked when she realized they were pushing through the crowd toward her. Hurrying to Rhys’ side, she prayed this didn’t escalate into further violence.

Rhys pushed her behind his body and Dante took up next to him. Kellen positioned himself beside Dante, caging her in. They had formed a wall of muscle trying to protect her, but it was useless, they were outnumbered. There were a dozen heavily armed guards surrounding them, their swords and guns glinting in the low light.

Rhys tensed and reached to the sheath at the back of his waistband. When she saw his fingers curl around the hilt of his weapons, she placed her hand on his, stopping him. He looked over his shoulder at her and she shook her head. They would all be killed if he began fighting and she had no desire to die in the Underworld or see these men die defending her.

Rhys regarded her for another second before looking away. His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched while his hand stayed curled to the weapon under hers. Having that connection to him made her feel safe, despite the odds against them.

“Mammon has been expecting you. He wants the angel. Come with us,” one of the guards murmured.

“And, here I thought our lack of a reservation was going to be a problem,” Rhys quipped. “Mammon can’t have the angel, but please, lead the way, Jeeves.” Illianna couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped. She appreciated his sense of humor even though this wasn’t the best time for it. Laughter had been the one thing she had missed most during her captivity. As an angel of joy and happiness, humor and laughter were vital to her. That was another way Rhys made her feel alive again and it was exhilarating to reconnect with that lost part of her soul. Clearly, the guards didn’t agree with his humor as they shoved them through the crowd.

When one of the guards grabbed her arm, pulling her along, Rhys shouted for them to get their hands off her. She glanced back to see him being struck in the face with the butt of a gun. Panicking, she shook her head, silently pleading with him to keep his mouth shut. He was being injured because of her and she couldn’t stand it.

None of them went quietly. It wasn’t in their nature. They were warriors and would die fighting until their last breath. They pushed against the guards, protesting every step of the way. When they reached the end of the block, she was pushed up a set of steep stairs leading to a large mansion.

The house was the same dark stone as most buildings of the Underworld, but these were smooth, flat squares that made up the walls to the multi-story home. There were stained glass windows set at intervals in the facade. It was gaudy and ostentatious and couldn’t be more out of place in Hell.

The guard gripping her arm paused outside the large double doors and stopped. The doors were massive, larger than any she’d ever seen, making her wonder who or what lived there. Her pulse raced and she broke out in a sweat, contemplating what they were going to encounter. She was fairly certain she would be kept alive for the continued harvesting of her wings, but she hated the thought of Rhys or the others being hurt.

The doors opened and their group entered. Her draw dropped as they walked into the palace. It was even bigger on the inside, the ceiling easily five or six stories high, and everything in the vestibule gilded and shiny.

She didn’t have an opportunity to find the source of light in the house as they were forced down a long hall. She glanced back when she heard Rhys cursing. He was far worse for wear, sporting fresh bruises on his face and a bloody nose. She suffocated the urge to rush to his side and care for him for fear of more pain being inflicted upon him.

What was it about this demon that drew her to him? She didn’t believe what he’d said about them being fated for one another and carrying part of each other’s soul. Although, in hindsight, she had always felt as if something was missing from her life. She wouldn’t say it was part of her soul, per say, but it made her pause and consider the possibility.

She shoved those thoughts to the side as they were ushered into a large room, reminding her of a throne room found in Heaven. The oversized chair was big enough to seat two large adults and was gold-encrusted and jeweled, completely over-the-top grandiose. The walls in the room were painted gold, may have even been made of solid gold. And, she’d never seen such exquisite floors during her time in Hell. They were pristine ivory and practically glowed. The tapestries were in immaculate condition, portraying a large man standing over those he had defeated.

It was striking how clean the home was. In fact, there wasn’t a speck of dirt or cobweb anywhere in the place. She couldn’t see the kitchen, but whatever was being prepared smelled divine and made her stomach rumble with hunger.

“Well, hello, whom do we have here?” drawled a man, voice thick with phlegm. She swirled back toward the throne and froze at the sight before her. The man overtaking the large chair was positively deplorable. He easily weighed six hundred pounds and made her wonder how he had moved so swiftly and silently considering she hadn’t heard him enter the room.

In a moment’s panic, she considered fleeing. He looked like he couldn’t stand on his own, let alone chase after them, but she knew looks could be deceiving so she stayed rooted in place. His attire was as ostentatious as his home. He had on an elaborate crown and a gold robe that was encrusted with rubies down the lapels. It covered his entire body, even his feet. She thought she saw a white collar peeking from the top of his robe and prayed that was the case. If his robe fell open and he was naked, she would never be the same again. Would not be able to erase the image from her brain, ever.

A moment later, several nude women and men walked to the throne and draped themselves at his feet, worshipping him. Looking away from their subjugation, she concluded this must be the leader, Mammon.

Rhys canted his head, drawing her attention. He had that look on his face. She held her breath, uncertain of what he was going to say. “Good to make your acquaintance, Buddha. You’re looking large as ever. We were just passing through your illustrious circle. Our two-day funpass to the Underworld is nearly up so we are in a rush to fit it all in.”

“Fucking Rhys,” Dante breathed on an exhale, barely audible. Illianna wouldn’t have heard him if she wasn’t standing so close. He rolled his eyes and she knew she was accurate, few got Rhys’ sense of humor.

Mammon laughed, sending a rumble through the floor. “Ah, this must be Lemuel’s infamous son, Rhys. Your father told me about your peculiar sense of humor, as well as, your lovely angelic companion.”

Rhys growled and she didn’t miss his fists clenching at his sides. Illianna saw how difficult it was for him to hold back. “I’m not really here to talk about Pops. Like I said, our tickets are expiring soon and we need to be on our way. We’ll just take our leave. No need to show us out, I remember the way. Nice home, by the way.”

Mammon was on his feet in a split second, confirming what Illianna had assumed. The man’s size was deceiving. The light caught his crown and Illianna saw two small horns on the top of his head. She recalled the story of his fall from heaven and wondered what made this former angel choose riches and confinement to this circle over service and freedom.

*****

Mammon was one fat, ugly piece of shit. He had rolls upon rolls of fat and looked like he was wearing a tent. If he hadn’t seen him move, Rhys would have said that the male’s servants carried him everywhere. And, in truth, they might carry him everywhere, but Rhys couldn’t assume that meant he was an easy foe to beat.