Her Demonic Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 5) Page 10

  He felt Taylor enter the living room but didn’t turn to acknowledge her. His gaze remained rooted on Erin.

  Einar removed the leather jacket and handed it to Veiron. He couldn’t hold it. It was bad enough seeing the blood on her, let alone feeling how much of the precious life giving liquid drenched his leather.

  He set it down on the small wooden coffee table between the two sofas.

  Einar picked up one of the knives off the table and cut away the bloodstained bandages around Erin’s chest. He hissed a ripe curse and Veiron joined him. The wounds looked worse in the light, deep gouges that were still seeping rivulets.

  Taylor rounded the back of the couch where Erin lay and frowned down at her.

  “Who is she? Someone you picked up at a bar and got a little too rough with?” Taylor shot him an accusatory glare.

  Veiron growled a warning. He was getting sick of people accusing him of hurting Erin when all he had done since meeting her was try to protect her.

  “It was Hell’s angels. I had it under control but one of them survived and went after her.” Veiron’s hands shook as Einar crouched next to Erin, closed his eyes and held his hands out above her injury. Pale golden light filtered down from the fallen angel’s palms.

  Veiron held his breath.

  This had to work.

  “How do you know her?”

  Veiron ignored the question.

  Einar huffed. “Can we save the interrogation for later, Taylor? I need to concentrate.”

  She pouted, went to the oak table, and began cleaning one of the guns.

  Veiron’s gaze followed every move that Einar made. He had never liked the former angel before but he loved the man now. He vowed never to call him Wingless again. At least not to his face. If he could pull this off, Veiron might just kiss him.

  Einar grunted and frowned. His hands wavered. Veiron’s nerves got the better of him. He moved around the sofa to the back and started pacing, taking agitated strides across the rugs on the wooden floor, trying to expel the sense of uselessness and tension from his tight body before he exploded.

  Taylor’s eyes followed him, burning with curiosity.

  Einar was right. Questions could come later and he would answer any they had. Right now, everyone needed to focus on Erin. Her life was on the line and it wasn’t the thought of facing Amelia and telling her that her sister was dead that had him silently praying that she would pull through. He couldn’t lose her.

  Veiron dug his fingers into his long red hair, tugging it loose from his ponytail.

  Erin looked so small and weak on Einar’s sofa, blood coating half of her torso and face. She had been so strong in Hell, soldiering on, bravely taking it all in her stride as he guided her to freedom. She had even stood up to him a few times and had looked close to taking Villandry on at the club. It had fooled him into believing that she really was strong, not the weak mortal she truly was.

  The slashes on her chest were slow to close. He watched them shrinking, willing each one shut and willing Erin to keep fighting and not give up, projecting that thought towards her in the hope she would sense how desperately he needed her to live.

  Eventually, the last wound closed, leaving only drying blood on her as evidence of what had happened. Einar sat back on his heels, pale and drained, his dark eyes full of fatigue but relief too.

  “Will she be alright?” Veiron couldn’t contain that question. Erin was still pale, her lips almost as white as her cheeks.

  “It will be a while before she comes around and then we shall know.” Einar clutched the arm of the sofa and pushed himself up onto his feet.

  “I need to keep her hidden,” Veiron said and felt Taylor’s gaze shift back to him. “I need her off the radar until she’s strong again.”

  “The entire house is protected by my power. The strongest enchantments I know. This place is a fortress against anything demonic or angelic. Whatever trouble you’ve stirred up, it won’t find you here.” Taylor set the gun down and came to stand next to the fireplace, close to Erin’s head. She looked down at her, a frown marring her face. “So who is she?”

  Veiron walked the length of the back of the antique sofa, leaned over and softly stroked Erin’s cheek. “She’s Amelia’s little sister.”

  “Her sister?” Einar’s eyes shot to him.

  Veiron nodded.

  “Did something come after her?” Einar sounded concerned now.

  “The Devil had her. The little fucker was using her as bait for Amelia. I went to Hell to get her back.” Veiron leaned one arm on the back of the couch, his strength leaving him now that he knew Erin would be safe. He had never felt so bone-deep tired before. “We had to exit in London rather than where we were meant to meet Amelia and Marcus. I need to hide Erin until I can get a message to them to tell them she’s safe and arrange a new meeting place.”

  “I can send Marcus a message. We’ve tested the distances and we can still communicate telepathically even when he’s thousands of miles away.”

  That was a relief. Veiron nodded his thanks.

  “We have a man who can arrange passports for you to travel on so you remain below the radar,” Taylor said and he was grateful that she had changed her mind and was willing to help him now.

  He nodded again, unable to find his voice as he stared down at Erin. His throat felt too tight. It was difficult to breathe past the knot in it let alone speak. He clung to what Einar had told him. She just needed some sleep now and then she would wake and he would see that she was fine.

  His back burned.

  Veiron gritted his teeth against the pain.

  “Are you all right?” Einar shot him a concerned look and Veiron swallowed and then shook his head. He collapsed against the back of the sofa, chin hitting the wooden frame and sending sharp knives stabbing across his skull.

  Einar was behind him in an instant, his hand hovering above Veiron’s back, above the long gash that cut down from his right shoulder to his left hip. “You should let me take a look at this for you.”

  Veiron shook his head again. “You’ve already used up so much strength healing Erin. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re still as stubborn as a mule.” Taylor grabbed his right arm and dragged him up onto his feet. She slung his arm around her shoulders and guided him to the other couch.

  Einar cleared the weapons off it and Veiron flopped down onto his front. He turned his head to his right, staring across the coffee table to Erin where she lay on her back on the other sofa, her bloodstained face soft with sleep.

  Veiron stretched his arm out towards her, resting it on the wooden table, wishing he could hold her hand and feel she was solid and whole, and would be all right. He focused on her as Einar set to work on his back.

  He wished Erin would wake. He needed to see those amber eyes of hers and see that she didn’t hate him. She had witnessed him in his true form. She knew what he was now.

  When she woke, would she still look at him with passion swamping her beautiful eyes or would they show him only pain and fear?

  CHAPTER 10

  Incredible warmth suffused every inch of Erin’s body, heating her right down to her marrow and leaving her feeling so relaxed that she didn’t want to move. She lay in silence, still and content, drifting between sleeping and waking. She wasn’t sure what she had expected to feel but this bone-melting heat certainly didn’t seem right to her.

  “Erin?” A deep voice laced with warmth and concern floated around her. She murmured her appreciation of that beautiful baritone and snuggled into the soft blanket covering her. The voice came again. “Erin?”

  Erin sighed and frowned. She didn’t want to wake but she didn’t know why. Something deep within her told her to remain asleep. Why didn’t she want to wake and see the handsome face that went with that delicious toe-curling voice?

  Images stuttered and flashed across her mind, a broken replay of a fight that she didn’t quite remember happ
ening but felt that she had been involved in.

  She burrowed deeper into the blanket.

  A warm palm cupped her cheek, fingers sliding along her jaw, teasing her awake.

  No. She didn’t want to go back. She wanted to hide here where everything still made sense and nothing could hurt her.

  It was too late though.

  The touch lured her up to wakefulness and she fluttered her eyes open. A fuzzy mess of colours greeted her and slowly came into focus, revealing an unfamiliar room and a man who could melt her with just a wicked smile.

  Veiron leaned over her, tangled threads of his scarlet hair caressing his cheeks and concern in his dark eyes.

  “Are you all right?” he said and she closed her eyes at the sound of his voice, savouring the effect it had on her.

  Erin nodded and heard other voices. She rolled her eyes back open and sought the owners of them. A man and a woman. They stood near her feet. She looked down the length of the black fleece blanket to them and then followed the line of her legs to her chest. Something burned there. Erin pushed the covers back, still groggy from sleep and finding it hard to move when she felt so relaxed.

  Her black top lay in tatters on one side. A flash of long dark valleys cutting through her flesh and blood spilling over her breast replaced the smooth clean skin she could see.

  What had happened?

  Erin looked up to ask Veiron and it all came sweeping back to her, crashing into her mind like an icy tidal wave. The demons had come for her and Veiron had fought them. One had got past him.

  She stared up at his face and it flickered, violently switching between how he looked now and how he had appeared the last time she had set eyes on him.

  Red eyes.

  Black skin.

  Dragon wings.

  He was one of them.

  Erin shook her head, her eyebrows furrowing as her heart set off at a pace. She scooted away from him on the sofa and fell over the arm of it, hitting the wooden floor hard. The heat of a fire blazed against her back. Veiron took a step towards her.

  She evaded his hand as it swung at her and dived to her left, tripped on the rug, and hit the floor again.

  “Get away from me.” She pushed up on her hands and made a break for it when Veiron rounded the end of the sofa nearest the fireplace. Her eyes shot wide when she spotted the woman with long black hair standing right in front of her and she tried to veer left. The tawny-haired man stood there blocking her path.

  “Erin,” he said, hands raised in a calming gesture.

  Erin backtracked like a startled animal and fell over the back of the sofa, bounced off the seat and hit the coffee table at a painful angle.

  She clutched her aching hip and looked up. A door. Freedom.

  “Erin, wait,” Veiron said and she threw a wild look over her shoulder at him. He was coming for her. She shoved the wooden table with all of her strength and he grunted when it slammed into his shins. Erin launched herself forwards.

  She had made it halfway to the door when Veiron grabbed her from behind and lifted her feet off the floor.

  Erin screamed at the top of her lungs and lashed out with her legs, aiming for anything. She managed to get one arm free and smashed her elbow into his stomach with as much force as she could manage. He grunted again but didn’t drop her.

  “She’s going to wake the neighbours,” the woman drawled.

  “Shut up,” Veiron snapped and Erin wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her or the woman, and didn’t care.

  She kept screaming until her throat burned.

  Veiron clamped a hand down over her mouth.

  Erin bit into his palm, brought her foot down hard on his knee, and slammed her elbow into his cheek.

  He dropped her.

  She hit the floor knees first, sending a painful jolt through her bones that didn’t slow her down. She ran for the door, bare feet burning with each step, bringing back the horrors of Hell and what Veiron’s kind had done to her there.

  Veiron reached the door before her and she ran straight into his arms.

  “Erin, calm down!” He grabbed her waist but she refused to give up.

  She rained blows down on his chest, pounding it as hard as she could, struggling the whole time. It had no effect, just as her punches hadn’t bothered the demons guarding her cell in Hell. Her throat closed, skin prickled, and heart raced. Images of burning rivers, black cragged spires, and endless darkness flashed across her eyes. The stench of sulphur choked her lungs. Tormented screams echoed in her ears.

  “I don’t want to go back to Hell! I won’t go back.” She punched him across the jaw, snapping his head to one side. He closed his eyes, the muscle in his cheek popped, and he frowned.

  Pissing him off was probably a bad move. She went back to smashing her fists against his hard chest, reddening his bare skin.

  Her punches grew weaker and her head spun, her stomach rebelling in time with it. Oh, she really didn’t feel too good. Her hands settled against his chest, his strong heart pounding against her palms. She trembled, limbs weak and muscles twitching, heart a timid thing behind her breastbone.

  Veiron gently cradled her, strong arms easily supporting her weight, and his chest heaved as he sighed.

  “When have I ever given you the impression that I was going to take you back to Hell?” There was hurt in his voice and in his eyes when she bravely met them and it tore at her. “I have done nothing but help you.”

  She couldn’t deny that. He huffed, carried her back across the room, and shoved her down onto the sofa.

  His hands didn’t leave her shoulders.

  He sat on the coffee table and stared at her.

  “I know what you are,” she said with a glare aimed at intimidating him but failing dismally judging by how irritated he looked.

  “No shit.” He rubbed his bare chest with one hand, keeping the other firmly on her shoulder.

  Her thoughts raced and collided and she had half a mind to tell him to get his hands off her. She couldn’t think straight while he was touching her, or looking at her, or even near her. She needed some space or her head was going to explode. Her mind and her heart were pulling her in two different directions and she felt close to snapping.

  “You’re one of them,” she whispered, unable to look him in the eye and see the pain her violent reaction to that had caused. Flipping out hadn’t been the smoothest move on her part but she hadn’t been able to stop herself. Everything she had been through had come flooding back and it had been too much for her to handle. Veiron probably thought she hated him now.

  Don’t hate me.

  He had told her those words just before he had gone off to fight the demonic angels.

  He had known she would see what he really was and he hadn’t wanted her to flip out, and she had done just that. She had gone all psycho on him and tried to run away from him, from Veiron, the man who had walked through Hell to save her from the Devil and his own kind. The man who had taken care of her as best he could and had exposed himself to his enemies by using his powers for her sake.

  Erin buried her head in her bare knees, clasped her hands over the back of her head, and cringed.

  “Are you at least a good one?” she murmured into her knees.

  Veiron’s grip on her shoulder loosened and she closed her eyes when he settled his hand over hers on the back of her head, his thumb stroking her interlinked fingers.

  “You already know the answer to that question in your heart, Erin.” The woman. She had a British accent, London born and bred, just like Erin. Her tone carried no warmth though. Erin’s reaction hadn’t only annoyed Veiron. It had irked this woman too.

  “Leave her alone, Taylor,” Veiron snapped and Erin felt a thousand times worse. He still defended her even after she had hurt him.

  The beautiful Taylor was right. She did know the answer to her question. Veiron was one of the good guys and she felt sick to her stomach that she had accused him of being anything else.

&nb
sp; “I’m sorry,” she whispered and long seconds ticked by in silence. She couldn’t blame him for not speaking to her, but perhaps she could make amends and explain her actions. “I panicked... just... everything hit me again and got muddled in my head... and it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have freaked out. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

  His hand stilled against hers and he squeezed them and sighed. “You don’t need to apologise, Erin. You’ve been through a lot. Freak out all you want. I won’t mind.”

  She didn’t believe that for a second. She had hurt his feelings and he deserved an apology from her, and if she couldn’t get him to accept it, he would always believe that she feared him.

  “Just take it easy when you do, you’re still healing.” The softness of his voice failed to cover the strained note in it. Erin slipped her hands off the back of her head and sat up. Veiron’s hand shifted to her cheek, his thumb sweeping across it as his dark eyes held hers. “You had me worried there for a moment.”

  His gaze dropped to her chest and his hand followed. Erin inhaled sharply when he stroked the top of her breast and looked down, seeing her flesh cut to ribbons and blood pouring from the wounds. Her heart missed a beat and then another, and then thumped hard against her ribs.

  “I thought I was going to die.” She blinked slowly to clear the tears rising in her eyes and the blood and wounds disappeared, leaving behind the reality of Veiron’s fingers gently caressing perfect skin. She raised her head again and looked into his eyes. “How?”

  “Einar healed you for me. There are some tricks I can’t perform,” he said, voice low and filled with regret. He frowned and then the darkness in his eyes lifted again and he settled his palm back against her cheek. “I should’ve done a better job of protecting you.”

  The heat in his eyes couldn’t mask the pain and Erin knew it wasn’t his fear of her dying or anger over his failure to protect her showing. He could pretend all he wanted, but his eyes betrayed his heart and told her that her reaction to discovering he was a demonic angel had deeply hurt him.

  She leaned into his palm, wishing she knew what to say to make it all better, and frowned as the room whirled again, spinning violently.