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  Lyra lifted her head and captured his lips, kissed him softly and hoped he would feel in it that desire touched her deeply, would have had her falling harder for him.

  But she was already in love with him.

  CHAPTER 15

  “You sure you don’t want my boots?” Grey looked down at Lyra’s feet, at the meagre protection his socks offered her.

  He had made her borrow his dirty pair too, so they formed a double layer on her feet, but it still wasn’t enough to satisfy him.

  “You sure you don’t want to stop asking me that?” she said, the smile curving the corners of her lips at odds with the sharp bite in her tone.

  He wanted to sigh.

  Not one of exasperation, but one of a strange sort of happiness.

  They had fallen into an easy camaraderie over the past day they had been marching south, the air between them clear at last, freeing them both from its oppressive weight. Gods, it felt good to have it all out there in the open, nothing hidden from her anymore, and to have her stay at his side.

  More than that, she stole kisses whenever he let her, and had held his hand for hours.

  She had even slept in his arms when they had taken shelter in a small cave at the base of one of the mountains, both of them needing rest.

  Grey hadn’t been able to sleep.

  The novelty of holding a female while she had been sleeping, of her trusting him to protect her when she was vulnerable, had kept him awake and watching her, absorbing how good it had felt in case it never happened again.

  Lyra nudged his hand with hers, knocking the backs of them together, and he looked down at her delicate little hand and then up into her eyes. They sparkled at him, tranquil tropical blue.

  Called to him.

  He could feel her, could feel the need as it steadily built inside her again.

  The desire.

  She wanted him again.

  Fuck, he wanted her every second of the day.

  She playfully tugged at his fingers, and he slowed to a halt and came to face her, giving in to her.

  He swiftly banded his right arm around her waist, lifted her as she squeaked, and seized her lips. She moaned, her hands coming down on his bare shoulders, nails pressing in as she clutched him tightly and stroked her tongue along the seam of his lips. He opened to her, groaned as she tangled her tongue with his and teased his fangs, sending a shiver down his spine.

  Sweet fucking gods, he would never get enough of this.

  He would never get enough of her.

  Her legs wrapped around his waist and he groaned again, this one strained as he cupped her backside and held her against him. Her shorts were loose enough that he could feel all of her natural curves beneath his fingers, together with her heat as it pressed against his stomach just above the waist of his trousers.

  He slowly lowered her, needing to feel that heat somewhere else.

  Somewhere that ached for her.

  “Grey,” she murmured against his lips as he settled her against his already rock hard length.

  He turned with her, broke away from her lips and scoured the desolate valley for a place where he could take her, somewhere they might have at least a little privacy.

  She tensed.

  His senses went on high alert and he swiftly looked up at her to check her. She stared off into the distance over his shoulder in the direction they had been heading.

  He looked there too.

  “What’s that?” She pointed, and he tracked her finger, following it to find what she had spotted.

  Something was there in the gloom.

  A long way away.

  He squinted, focused harder and let his animal side rise to the fore a little, enough that his vision sharpened and the world around him brightened, and he could see what she had.

  Lights.

  They were steady. Bright. White.

  These weren’t flaming torches.

  They were manmade.

  “You think it’s the ones you’re looking for?” Lyra whispered, as if they would be able to hear her from such a distance.

  Still, it paid to be cautious.

  His senses didn’t reveal anyone in the area other than him and Lyra, but he wasn’t going to risk it.

  “It’s possible,” he said in a low voice and lowered her to her feet. He looked back in the direction they had come, and then in the one they had been heading. They had been following the mountain range from the dragon village, and the Devil’s domain had been to their left the entire time, meaning they had certainly been heading in the right direction to cross paths with the mortals. “The dragons said they were a day’s march south-east, and that’s the course we’ve been taking to reach the portal.”

  “We should check it out.”

  He whipped around to face her. “No.”

  He wasn’t taking her anywhere near Archangel. If they saw her and realised what she was, well it didn’t bear thinking about. Talon had gone through hell at their hands and he was just a tiger, a common enough species of shifter. Archangel would go to town on a hellcat.

  Grey wanted to get her to the portal as soon as possible.

  He wanted to get her home, where she would be safe.

  She sidled closer to him, the feel of her near to him comforting him and soothing his fear of something happening to her.

  He glanced down at her, and his gaze caught on hers, on the worry that shone in it.

  “I don’t want you coming back to Hell, Grey,” she whispered, her dark eyebrows furrowing. “I know you will if you don’t find out what the humans are doing. You need to help your brother, and that need will bring you back to this realm.”

  He sighed, brushed the knuckles of his right hand across her cheek, and wanted to deny that to alleviate her worry, but he couldn’t lie to her.

  Her concern touched him, warmed his heart in a way he had never experienced before. He didn’t want her worrying about him, and he certainly didn’t want her demanding to come with him when he returned to Hell, so there was only one course of action open to him.

  “Fine. We’ll take a look as we’re passing.”

  Just a peek.

  Although he knew it wouldn’t be enough to assuage his own curiosity about what Archangel were doing in Hell. That curiosity had only grown since meeting the dragons and hearing that the squad he was looking for weren’t the only ones in Hell. There were others, and they were forcing fae to work the portals so they could come and go as they pleased.

  He kept his eyes locked on the lights in the distance to his left as they started walking again.

  He already wanted a closer look, and once he had that, he was going to want to rattle a few answers loose from one of the hunters, and maybe give them a little payback for what they had done to his pride, attacking it for no reason.

  He led Lyra up a path that looked as if it ran along the base of the mountain around twenty feet up from the valley floor. A good vantage point. He ushered her in front of him as the path narrowed, torn between having her take the lead where she would be vulnerable to any hunter that might be ahead of them, and having her bring up the rear where he couldn’t see her.

  He needed to see her, needed eyes on her at all times.

  She reached behind her, and he looked down at the hand she offered. He slipped his into it and clutched it tightly as he silently thanked her for picking up on his fear and his need to know she was safe and for helping him soothe them both.

  When they were in line with the hunter camp, Lyra stepped off the path and skidded silently down the slope. He followed her and ended up next to her behind a large boulder. She peered around it.

  Grey huffed.

  The hunters were on the other side of the valley, too far away for him to see what they were doing.

  He wanted to get a head count before he did anything, needed to know how many hunters he would be dealing with if he approached the camp and tried to get some answers about that damned door.

  He turned to Lyra
to say they should sneak closer for a better look.

  The scent of blood hit him.

  Shrieks and terrified screams shattered the silence.

  Grey snapped his head towards the hunter camp, the odour of blood growing thicker in the hot air as he tried to see what was happening.

  Who the fuck was killing all the mortals he had intended to interrogate?

  He could feel his chance slipping through his fingers as he studied the darkness ahead of him, searching it for a sign of what was attacking the mortals.

  Lyra leaped the rock and started sprinting towards the battle, keeping as low to the ground as possible to avoid detection.

  He growled and gave chase, his heart slamming against his ribs as his need to protect her screamed that she was going to hurl herself into the fray blind, with no plan and no clue as to what was happening.

  The remaining sensible part of him tried to rise above it and hammer home that she was only trying to get a closer look. He knew that. She was moving low, silent in the darkness. She wasn’t launching an assault.

  But his instinct to protect her was too strong, overruled sense and roared that she was going to fight and get herself hurt. Or worse.

  That had his stomach churning, heart racing and limbs trembling as he sprinted after her, scanning the distance ahead of her as the battle drew closer.

  What the hell was happening ahead of him?

  Had the mortals strayed too close to a dragon’s territory and were paying the price?

  He searched the dull golden sky.

  Surely a dragon would choose to decimate the mortals in its beast form though?

  The skies were clear.

  Lyra ground to a halt around sixty metres from the battle.

  Her fear flooded him.

  Everything slowed as she turned towards him, her long black hair splaying outwards and her blue eyes going impossibly wide.

  “Run!”

  Had she spotted the dragon he couldn’t see?

  He ignored her and ran towards her instead, reached his right arm out to her and willed her to run to him, his every instinct screaming at him to protect her.

  A burst of air battered him, a blast of black dust sweeping over him as the ground bucked and shook, and he quickly covered his face with his arms to protect his vision from the particles.

  What was out there?

  Unsettling silence fell.

  He lowered his hands from his face as the air cleared around him.

  Something drove hard into his gut, lifted his boots from the ground and sent him flying high into the air.

  The world zoomed away from him, pain arcing like lightning through his body, zinging along his bones. He growled and ripped his backpack off, gripped one of the straps between his teeth and shifted the moment the pain dulled enough to allow him to transform.

  He twisted and turned in the air as he came down, eyes darting as he swiftly charted the distance between him and the ground.

  This was going to hurt like a bitch.

  He flipped one last time and landed hard on all four paws, his bones taking the brunt of the impact, sending another blast of pain shooting through him, one that came close to forcing him to shift back into his human form.

  Thank fuck for feline bone structure and its ability to absorb impacts.

  He wasn’t sure he had ever been so grateful for it.

  He dropped his pack and kicked out of his clothes, freeing himself so he could fight.

  Grey lifted his head and snarled at the one who had tossed him as he prowled forwards.

  The male stared him down, towering close to seven feet tall, his powerful body encased in heavy black armour that mimicked the muscles beneath. A horned helmet flared from back from above his nose and wisps of long golden hair danced from beneath it, not fitting with his dark appearance.

  The crimson eyes that narrowed on Grey matched it perfectly though.

  Together with the undeniable aura of pure evil that hovered around the male.

  And his huge black feathered wings.

  Not a dragon.

  A fucking angel.

  A fallen one at that.

  He had come for Lyra.

  CHAPTER 16

  The fallen angel slowly turned to face Lyra. She stood her ground, refusing to reveal her fear to him. Black mist writhed over his obsidian armour as he moved, caressing it like a lover, and trailed from the long black claws of his gauntlets.

  His smile gained a cold edge. “You were difficult to find. I was beginning to think I would have to kill every slave I placed a tracker on before I found you.”

  He frowned as he looked at her wrists, his displeasure on seeing her shackles gone written in every line of his sculpted face.

  Behind him, Grey edged towards her, his white markings bright in the dim light. He circled the male and she did her best to keep the angel’s eyes on her, giving him time to close ranks with her.

  The fallen angel’s crimson gaze slid towards his right, towards Grey, and narrowed, a glow illuminating his elliptical pupils.

  “It would be wise of you not to interfere,” he drawled, his deep voice barren of feeling. “I am feeling a little testy after losing one hellcat and I will not be held responsible for how badly it will end for you if you stand in my way.”

  Grey bared his fangs in response to that, his blue eyes bright and pupils wide as he hunted the male. He slinked towards her, his head held low and his gaze never leaving the fallen angel. His long banded tail twitched, the only outward sign of his nerves.

  Fear that she could feel in him.

  Fear that pounded through her too.

  The fallen angel stared Grey down and then his scarlet eyes flicked to her, sending a shiver through her as a sickening sensation swept over her, a darkness that seemed to drain the light from her soul.

  “I will get enough gold from your sale to set me up for at least another century.”

  This time, she bared her fangs at him. Like hell. She wasn’t going to let him take her into captivity and sell her. She would die before that happened, and she would die a free hellcat.

  The fallen angel slid his gaze back to Grey. “I can cut you in on the deal. Just step aside and you can have ten percent of the coin I will make on her. Think of it as a finder’s fee.”

  Lyra’s heart kicked hard.

  Grey soothed it by baring his fangs on a hiss, his ears flattening as they flared backwards.

  And then he launched at the male.

  They clashed hard, but Grey was no match for the fallen angel. The male easily shook him before he could strike with his fangs, sending him sprawling across the black ground. Grey rolled onto his feet and attacked again, his claws not strong enough to break through the male’s heavy armour as he raked them down his leg.

  The fallen angel kicked him in the gut, lifting his paws from the earth, and Grey hissed and whimpered.

  Lyra snarled, stripped off her clothes and shifted, her bones aching as they grew and shrank, morphed into a new shape, and black fur sweeping over her skin. She hit the earth running as her twin tails whipped out from the base of her spine and blue flames erupted down their lengths and beneath her paws.

  The fallen angel looked her way.

  She roared and kicked off, leaped high into the air and sailed towards him.

  Rather than smacking her away as he had with Grey, the male tried to catch her. Shit. She twisted in the air, realising her mistake, and pressed her back paws hard into his chest. She kicked with all of her strength, springing free of his reach and knocking him backwards before he could capture her. She landed on the ground and the male grunted.

  Her head snapped around.

  Grey scrambled on the male’s back, claws raking over his shoulders, seeking purchase. He snarled and sank his fangs into the fallen angel’s black feathered wings, ripping a cry from the male’s lips.

  Inside, she grinned, a flicker of pride warming her heart.

  That was her warrior.

&nbs
p; He had found a weak spot.

  The fallen angel reached over his head, grabbed Grey by the scruff of his neck, and tossed him. He hit the dirt a few metres beyond Lyra, his pain echoing through her, and refused to remain down. He lumbered onto his feet and she took a step towards him as he shook his head and she saw the crimson staining the back of his neck.

  The angel had sunk claws into Grey.

  The scent of his blood hit her hard, ripped a cry from her throat and had her flames burning hotter, sweeping up her legs and spreading over her hind quarters.

  Fire blazed through her veins like an inferno too, pushing her to act, and she couldn’t deny it or the need to sink her fangs into the fallen angel and rip him to shreds.

  The bastard would pay for hurting her male.

  She leaped at the fallen angel, her roar echoing around the mountains and sending the blue fire fluttering outwards from her teeth.

  He raised his left arm to block her and she wrapped her jaws around it, hung on for dear life and bit down. His armour was solid, making her fangs ache, but she forced herself to bite harder, using all of her strength on the bastard.

  The metal gave beneath the pressure.

  Grey came out of nowhere, a ghost in the low light, and hit the male’s left wing hard, gripping it in his claws and fangs, dragging the male off balance. The fallen angel ripped her off him, but didn’t throw her aside. He dropped her at his feet and turned, reaching for Grey.

  It struck her that he didn’t want to hurt her.

  He didn’t want to damage the goods.

  As he twisted to reach Grey, he left his back exposed to her.

  Lyra growled and leaped on it just as he dislodged Grey and sent him tumbling hard and fast across the black dirt. His pain echoed through her, driving her on. She struck hard, sinking fangs into the angel’s right wing and tearing at it.

  “Fucking pest,” the male snarled and grabbed her, the sensation of darkness and danger he emanated rising, sparking a desire to run as far as she could from him.

  It was hard to ignore that instinct and to keep fighting him as he hauled her in front of him and held her there by the scruff of her neck as if she weighed nothing.

  Grey growled from behind her.