Her Demonic Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 5) (11 page)

Erin was his.

Erin was not his.

She was just a mission. As soon as he got her safely to her sister, he was gone. Goodbye. Sayonara. Have a great life. Erin was a complication that he didn’t need. She made him weak when he needed to be strong and keep a level head. He hadn’t spent the past few centuries plotting his revenge only to throw it away now that he was so close to seeing all his plans come to fruition.

“I went out with him a few years ago. It wasn’t my greatest hour. I dumped him after he hit on my sister and friends at my twenty-seventh birthday night out.”

He felt her shrug, as though it was nothing, but he heard the truth in her heart and the glimmer of her emotions that he could sense. The man had hurt her. He had betrayed her trust and her love.

Veiron wanted to kill him.

He kept his face turned away from Erin so she couldn’t see the change as it came over him, turning his eyes red and teeth crimson and sharp.

“We need to get off the street,” he said but it came out as more of a snarl and Erin’s hand tensed in his. He cleared his throat, reined his anger in, and tried to sound more normal. “I know a place where we might find sanctuary.”

Veiron stopped and looked down at Erin’s feet and her bare legs. She was shivering again and it wasn’t out of fear this time. The night was cold against his chest and back too. Sharing body heat sounded like a reasonable way of keeping warm.

“Come on,” he said and crouched with his back to her.

Erin climbed up onto him, her soft body pressing into his back and her thighs against his hips. Devil, she did feel good right there, snuggled close to him. She settled her arms on his shoulders as he straightened, his hands under her thighs, supporting her.

Veiron blew out his breath at the feel of her fingers sweeping across his shoulders and then down them. They paused and he kept walking, concentrating on the action to purge his desire to absorb the warmth and softness of her caress. If he didn’t focus, his wings were likely to erupt from his back and knock her flying.

Not the way he wanted her to see them for the first time.

Her fingers drifted over his biceps and then followed the sweeping curves of his tattoos to his back. She held onto him with her left hand and traced the tattoo on his right shoulder blade with her other one.

“They’re very beautiful,” she whispered, voice soft but not from her concentrating on his tattoos and being absorbed in following the design with her fingers.

There was desire in that voice, hunger in her tone that made him wonder if she was thinking about running something other than her fingers over his back.

Just the thought of her sweeping her tongue over his tattoos had him hardening painfully in his tight black jeans.

“Thank you,” he uttered, distracted by his thoughts and how good she felt against him.

He fought the urge to turn down the next dark alley, drag her around to his front, pin her to the wall and scratch the itch he had for her.

If he could just scratch that itch, that dark hunger to know her taste and her body, he was sure that he could get her out of his mind and get it back on his real mission.  

Wasn’t going to happen.

Veiron plodded on, hands burning where they touched her bare legs so close to her bottom, mind racing as she continued to swirl her fingers around every curl and along every spike of his tattooed right shoulder.

A shiver raced across his back and it had nothing to do with Erin’s touch this time.

“Hold on,” he said.

Time to run again.

He pounded the pavement with Erin clutching his shoulders, her rapid pulse thumping in his mind, whispering her fear to him.

“How many?” He felt her twist, knew she was looking back.

“Just three.”

He liked the way she said that. Just three. Like three Hell’s angels were nothing for them. They could handle such a paltry number.

He could, but with Erin around, he would be distracted, concerned that she might end up dragged into the fight somehow and injured.

“Veiron... they’re flying.”

That was just cheating.

Two could play at that game.

Veiron stopped, pulled Erin around so she was against his front, and started running again.

His wings burst from his back, he ran up the back of a parked car, boots denting the trunk and roof, and launched himself into the air.

Erin gasped.

Cold night air swept through his crimson feathers as he beat his wings, carrying them higher into the alley.

“You have wings. How do you have wings? You said you didn’t have wings!”

“No, you thought I didn’t have wings.” Veiron flapped them harder. Stay red. Please stay red. When his mood was degenerating as rapidly into anger and violence as it was now, it was normally impossible to keep the feathers on his wings. “This really isn’t the time for this argument.”

Erin mercifully remained quiet.

Veiron’s red gaze darted around, searching for the right direction. If he could get Erin to Taylor’s, he might be able to set her down and tell her to ring the bell and ask Wingless for help while he drew the Hell’s angels away.

He spotted the small square near Taylor and Wingless’s home and shot towards it. The enemy were gaining on him.

“How close?” he said over the noise of the wind.

Erin shivered against him, her body freezing under his hands. “Too close. They’re practically on us.”

“Fuck.” Veiron dived, heading back to street level, and beat his wings, desperate to put some distance between them and their pursuers. Erin tensed in his arms and buried her face against his throat. He levelled off but didn’t slow down. “Listen. I’m going to put you down and draw them away.”

“No.” She threw her arms around his neck and locked her legs around his hips. “No. I don’t want you to ditch me.”

“Stubborn,” he growled and tried to prise her off him but she did the most marvellous impression of a limpet he had ever seen. He couldn’t shift her without using more of his strength and he wouldn’t risk hurting her by doing so. “Fine. Change of plans. I’ll set us both down. You hide behind one of the parked cars on the street and I’ll fight the bad guys.”

“Liar.” She snarled the word at him. “You’re going to ditch me.”

He was. He didn’t have time to argue about it either.

Veiron hit the ground running, furled his crimson wings against his back, and peeled her off him. She tried to hold on but relented when she looked over his shoulder. They were closer now. He could feel them.

Her feet hit the pavement next to a parked black four-wheel-drive vehicle. It was tall enough to conceal her while he fought their three enemies. Erin reached over behind her with both hands and tried to pull the sword out of the scabbard.

“What are you doing?” he said and she grunted, her face screwing up in frustration. She managed to get the sword up several inches but then a flaw in her plan showed itself. Her arms weren’t long enough to draw the sword.

“You need this so you can fight.”

Veiron smiled, drew the sword for her, and handed it to her. She frowned at it and then up into his eyes.

“A mortal sword will be of no use to me in this fight... and I have already revealed myself to them. I might as well use a weapon I favour.” He held his right hand out beside him and a black staff materialised in his hand.

Red patterns decorated the short black rod and red curved blades appeared at each end. The staff itself was only the length of his forearm as it was now, the blades equally as long, but he could increase the length of the rod if he needed more room in the fight.

“Stay here.” Veiron touched her dirty cheek. She didn’t look at him. She was staring at his hand and the spear he grasped as though he had just performed the most amazing magic trick.

Hey presto.

She should see some of the other things he could do.

Veiron beat his wings and flew over the square.

The Hell’s angels appeared and split up as soon as they spotted him, one diving off to his left, the second to his right, and the third heading straight for him.

All three of them were in their true form, making them larger than he was, huge black-skinned beasts with dragon-like wings. The yellow streetlamps reflected off their obsidian armour, draining the colour from the scarlet edging on their breastplates, greaves and the vambraces that protected their forearms.

He wished he could call his own armour but Erin was watching him from the shadow of the Range Rover and if she saw his armour, she would realise that he was like these creatures.

Veiron held the short staff of his double-ended spear in both hands and slashed at the first demonic angel as he lunged at Veiron with his black sword. Veiron knocked the blade aside and snarled as he sliced across the angel’s thick black arm. The angel roared at him and attacked again, quicker this time, and Veiron struggled to counter each strike that drove him backwards through the air. His senses blared a second before a blade cut down his back, narrowly missing his wings.

He cried out and Erin shouted his name.

Foolish woman.

One of the angels turned her way and zipped towards her.

Like hell Veiron was letting him near her.

Veiron beat his wings and shot after the demonic angel, the cold air buffeting him. He extended the staff of his weapon and swung with it, catching the man hard in the waist and sending him careening through the air. The angel crashed into a parked car up the street, the sound of the impact echoing around the Georgian townhouses lining the square and the shockwave sending the alarm of every vehicle in the area shrieking.

Veiron hit the pavement, took two strides, and grabbed Erin around her waist. She gasped and he kicked off, shooting into the air again with a single strong flap of his crimson wings.

The sword fell from her hands and hit the pavement with a clang.

Veiron scoured the area for a safe place for her. The two conscious angels chased him, their leathery wings creating eerie noises amongst the wailing car alarms. There was another square up ahead. The one he had hoped to reach without incident. He couldn’t fight there. It was too close to where he wanted to take Erin once they had lost their tail.

They needed somewhere else.

Veiron held his hand out in front of him and a bright fiery portal appeared. He shot through it, holding Erin close to his chest, and came out near the broad black swath of the River Thames.

He set Erin down on the pavement under a pedestrian bridge next to the river.

“Stay in the shadows.” Veiron went to leave and then came back to her. He laid his hand on her cheek, feeling her shaking, and looked deep into her eyes. “Don’t hate me.”

Before she could ask why, he ran a few paces and took off again, using his wings to carry himself high into the air where she hopefully wouldn’t see what he was about to become.

He couldn’t fight the demonic angels off as he was. His true appearance unleashed his full strength and power. He needed that if he was going to protect Erin.

The first demonic angel appeared through a vicious orange streak in the sky, scanned the darkness, and spotted him. The second tore a rip in the world a few hundred yards further away. Just the two of them.

Maybe he wouldn’t need to go nuclear after all.

Veiron beat his scarlet wings and caught the second angel unawares, cutting him across the neck and then following through by twisting his double-ended blade and slicing down his back. The blade caught the male’s left wing, tearing through the leathery membrane, and he shrieked and plummeted into the river. A bright orange glow lit the water as it boiled, telling Veiron that the angel had returned to Hell to heal.

That left him with one.

Veiron grinned and turned to face the remaining demonic angel.

Erin screamed.

CHAPTER 9

V
eiron’s gaze snapped down and his heart stilled, sharp claws squeezing it tightly. The angel he had tossed into the car was back and had Erin in a chokehold from behind. She yanked on his thick arm with both of her hands, gasping for air, her amber eyes wild with panic and fear that Veiron could feel in his blood. The large black demonic man clawed across her arm and chest, cutting deep into her flesh.

Veiron saw red.

He flung his arms back and roared. His skin darkened to black and his form changed, limbs growing and muscles expanding. The red dripped from his wings, revealing black feathers beneath that fell away in clumps, exposing the leathery membrane of his real wings.

Obsidian armour appeared on his huge body, encasing his chest and back at first. His black loincloth followed next, replacing his ruined jeans. His boots disappeared and black and red ones took their place. His greaves appeared, the crimson-edged jet plates protecting his shins. Finally, his vambraces melted into existence on his forearms.

The blades of his spear glowed red.

Veiron launched forwards, grasped his blade with both hands, and attacked the angel nearest to him. He dodged the strike of the man’s black sword, shoved one blade into his stomach, and flipped himself over his back. The red-hot blade of Veiron’s spear sliced out of the angel’s gut and Veiron landed on his wings. The Hell’s angel dropped from the sky with Veiron on his back. Veiron snarled and plunged the other blade of his spear through the man’s back, and then kicked off, leaving him to hit the pavement with such force that it formed a crater and a plume of dust rose into the air.

He snarled and shot towards the angel still attacking Erin. The smell of her blood assaulted his senses and he lost control.

Veiron landed hard, shaking the ground, sprinted at the angel and punched straight through the back plate of his obsidian armour. The man shrieked and released Erin. She dropped to the floor in a heap.

Veiron lifted the man, his hand closing around his spine, and slammed him hard into the wall of the bridge. He smashed him against it again, causing shards of brick and dust to rain down on the pavement, and then again. The angel struggled and writhed, clawing at him and trying to beat him away with his wings.