Avenged by an Angel (Eternal Mates Paranormal Romance Series Book 16) Page 7

With his last breath if it came to it.

  CHAPTER 7

  Mundane didn’t cover the last two weeks. His superiors had berated him for his tardiness and handed him three thick files to study, all of them strong demons associated with the one he had killed in Shanghai.

  It had turned out they weren’t as powerful as expected, though.

  The three had died too easily, the fights not satisfying him in the slightest. Granted, the last one had got a lucky blow in and had reopened the wound in his side. Which meant he had that demon to thank for his current predicament.

  A week off.

  Things were looking up.

  He was meant to be resting, but he wasn’t going to squander the time he had been given.

  His elbow ached as he leaned on it, his head propped up on his palm on the long white oak desk in the centre of the library in Echelon headquarters. He flicked the yellowing pages of the thick tome opened in front of him, one of twenty he had plucked from the shelves today, and scanned the scrawl that passed as the penmanship of the angel who had written the account, seeking any mention of dragons hidden among the fading ink.

  So far, the knowledge of dragons he had gained from spending the past two days poring over scrolls, books, and parchments boiled down to nothing.

  He had learned a lot about various species of demons, though, some of which could prove useful in completing his other mission to bring Sable in so she could serve the Echelon.

  He flipped to the next page and sighed as he skimmed it. The prose was more flowery than a cottage garden in England. It offered little information about demons, let alone dragons.

  The only information he had found on them had been in translated versions of older texts, ones ancient enough that dragons had still roamed the mortal world when they had been written in old angelic, a language no one had spoken in millennia. They were of little use to him. He needed to know how Hell had affected the dragons and where they had made their home in that dark realm.

  He closed the book, shoved it aside, and dragged another in front of him.

  He had to keep reading. He had to do something.

  Because he felt as if he was going to go out of his mind as he struggled against the gnawing hunger to hunt that goaded him into setting foot in a realm where he would be stripped of his powers.

  He couldn’t go rushing in there without a clue about the location of the dragon lands, and certainly couldn’t risk going there without knowing what effect it would have on him.

  But the itch to go there was growing stronger every day.

  White feathers obscured the corner of his vision.

  He gritted his teeth and waited.

  He didn’t have to wait long.

  “You are quieter and more distant than usual, Fourth Commander.” The teasing note in the male’s voice didn’t stop his mood from darkening as it always did whenever he heard his title now.

  It echoed in his mind in Emelia’s voice, each word hurled at him like an insult.

  Because he didn’t have a name.

  His vision swam out of focus as his mind leaped on the chance to conjure an image of her, with that pretty pink stain on her cheeks. What had caused it? He had wondered that often over the last few weeks. She had blushed. Why? Because of something he had done?

  “Do you think he hears me?” A hand appeared in view now, palm pressing against the desk beside his book as the male leaned back and twisted towards him, evidently seeking the answer from the other angel in the room.

  “Probably,” the Second Commander grunted, clearly not interested in playing whatever game the Third Commander had in mind.

  Tease the Fourth Commander never ended well.

  “For a male two hundred years my senior, you act like a fledgling at times,” he muttered and brushed the male’s hand away when he went to turn the page for him.

  “What are you reading? You are always in here reading… I had always thought you a bit of a dull angel, but I had never considered you bookish.” The Third Commander made another attempt to turn the page.

  He grabbed the male’s wrist, locked it tight in his grip and barely bit back the growl as he pushed the Third Commander’s hand away.

  “You’re lucky he didn’t bite you.” The Second Commander chortled as he moved to one of the windows that overlooked the sprawling white city.

  This was the downside to having time off.

  His comrades moved Heaven and Earth to irritate him whenever he was around. They were worse than their superiors, had teased him from the moment those angels had dared to make the first joke about his temperament when he had been but two hundred years old and had entered the service of the Echelon.

  He took his eyes off the Third Commander’s hand for only a second, but it was enough for the male to flip his book closed. The heavy cover slammed shut and he sighed, leaned back in the chair, and tipped his head up to stare at the ceiling, seeking the strength to stop himself from throttling the male.

  The last time he had done that, the First Commander had been forced to haul him off the brunet.

  “Come out with us.” The Third Commander hopped up to sit on the table beside him. “Stop being so boring.”

  He slid his gaze down over the male, from the wild tips of his short chestnut hair to the form-fitting white and gold tunic he wore and his tight trousers, and riding boots. An outfit that was only meant to be worn during special occasions.

  “I did not realise there was to be a celebration today.” He looked across the desk to the Second Commander where he stood in front of one of the towering bookcases and found the raven-haired male wearing the same uniform.

  The Second Commander’s aqua eyes darted to the floor and then the window to his left.

  “There is not.” The First Commander didn’t even spare them all a glance as he strode through the library with purpose, a book tucked against his broad chest as he shoved the fingers of his free hand through his neat white hair, preening it back in a way that screamed of frustration.

  Which meant the Second and Third Commanders were at it again.

  “I thought you were reprimanded last time you did this?” He looked from one to the other as the library door closed behind the First Commander.

  He couldn’t blame the male for leaving. It was either that or he had to report his subordinates, and the male preferred not to get his own men into trouble. His normal modus operandi was getting them out of trouble once they got themselves in it.

  The Third Commander shrugged. “It was hardly a reprimand. More like a tap on the wrist.”

  As far as he knew, they had both been banned from the city for three weeks and told that if they were seen in the vicinity of females for the following three weeks that they would be locked away for six months.

  “Wear your off-duty clothes if you intend to go into the city to seek females.” He leaned his elbow on the desk again and pulled the book back to himself, flipped it open and flicked through the pages until he found the one where he had been.

  “But the females love the dress uniforms.”

  He couldn’t really argue with that. Many females in the city sought to breed with the Echelon, believing that bearing their offspring would elevate them within angel society and bring them power, especially if that child was born with a faint echo of the mark he bore on his right wrist. An Echelon in full regalia was an alluring prospect, always drawing gazes and often more than a few attempts to garner their attention.

  The way the Third and Second Commanders abused it was making the Echelon appear as if they were seeking to bed a female whenever they wore it.

  It was a disgrace to his noble order.

  “Come with us.” The Third Commander poked him in the shoulder.

  The one that was still healing from one of the demons attempting to wrench it out of its socket.

  He turned a glare on the male’s finger and the Third Commander quickly removed it.

  “We know you are off duty. You look tense. You need a littl
e time down in the city.” The male attempted to close the book again.

  He slapped the Third Commander’s hand away and glared up at him.

  “Leave it,” the Second Commander said, and he was a breath away from thanking him when the male added, “What is it you’re so fascinated with researching anyway? I’ve never seen you reading battle reports before.”

  “I am not researching.” He was researching. They just didn’t need to know it.

  Neither the Second nor Third Commander looked as if they believed him. He wanted them gone, which meant he needed to find a good excuse, one that they wouldn’t be able to see through or poke holes in.

  “I am trying to discover whether any Echelon have brought a half-breed Echelon in before. I am to make another attempt to bring the female, Sable, into the fold.” Which was true, but he had no intention of rushing to carry out that mission.

  Slaying the dragon took priority.

  “Imagine that… A female Echelon.”

  He wasn’t surprised when he looked up and found a wicked shimmer to the Third Commander’s golden eyes.

  “A female Echelon mated to a demon king. Imagine that instead.” He pushed the book aside and grabbed a new one.

  “He’d hang you by your entrails.” The Second Commander chuckled.

  “I could take him.” The Third Commander looked as if he believed that.

  He shook his head at that but didn’t take his eyes from the page. “He is powerful, knows we are vulnerable to the demon language, and has taken her to Hell. The Second Commander is correct. The demon would hang you by your entrails.”

  “So how do you plan to get your hands on her?” The Third Commander slid off his perch and leaned over him, peering at the book spread in front of him. “Certainly not by reading about… What does that even say?”

  He wasn’t sure. The angel who had written this account had worse handwriting than the last one.

  “Something about a…” He squinted at the page. “I believe it says… nymph.”

  “Are you reading dirty books?” The Third Commander playfully shoved at his shoulder, earning himself a growl as pain flared in it to chase along his nerves down his arm and his back. “You definitely need to bed a female if you are reading second-hand accounts about nymphs.”

  He rolled his eyes closed and prayed for the strength to stop himself from throttling the male again. “I am not interested in any female you have to offer.”

  “Ah.” There was a decidedly gleeful and triumphant note to that simple sound, one that had him grimacing as he realised why. “So you are interested in a female, just not one I can give you.”

  “Is it the half-breed? Because the demon would probably hang you by your entrails.” The Second Commander sounded as amused as he looked when he turned a glare on him. His pale blue eyes were bright with humour that rubbed him the wrong way.

  Why did everyone think it was alright to tease and poke fun where he was concerned?

  “No, it is not… I have no interest in that female.” He should have chosen his words more wisely, because the Second Commander exchanged a look with the Third.

  “He definitely has a female in mind.”

  “No, I do not. Will you both just leave me in peace?” He tried to return his focus to the book.

  The Third Commander ripped it away from the text. “Is it that healer angel?”

  He lifted his head and arched his right eyebrow as he looked up at the male. “The healer?”

  Why would they think he was interested in her?

  “I mean… I get it. She is pretty.” The Third Commander clapped a hand down on his bad shoulder, again, and grinned as he leaned closer. “Have you slept with her?”

  He huffed and batted the male’s arm away.

  That infuriating grin remained. “You act like it would be reprehensible to do such a thing. I sleep with my healer sometimes. He does too.”

  He jerked his chin towards the Second Commander.

  The male didn’t deny it.

  They slept with the females sent to heal them?

  “I thought everyone slept with them from time to time. You have slept with her. Come on, admit it.” The Third Commander looked as if he was going to poke his shoulder again and then thought the better of it. He waggled an eyebrow instead. “I have seen her once or twice, leaving your apartment, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright. You definitely paid her back a little for her services.”

  He slammed the book, stood so fast the chair shot backwards, toppling to land with a loud bang on the floor, and turned on the male.

  “I do not, and will not ever, sleep with my healer.” He ground each word out slowly, making sure the male heard them and got the message.

  He wasn’t interested in the female.

  He pivoted on his heel and stormed towards the exit, because he was getting nowhere and the males wouldn’t leave him alone if he remained.

  “She will be upset to hear that,” the Third Commander muttered as the door closed behind him.

  He paid the male no heed as he strode along the corridor, his boots loud on the white marble floor. Anger swirled, heating his blood, tearing at his control. He growled as he ploughed his fingers through his black hair and tugged it back. He was wasting time. Reading the accounts was pointless. There was only one way of learning the knowledge he needed in order to track the dragon down swiftly and without endangering himself too much.

  Emelia.

  He needed to see her again, and not only because she could tell him the things he couldn’t find in the books. He needed to see her again because he needed her to soothe him as she had last time, giving him the strength to resist the constant, pressing need to go to Hell.

  Or he was going to do something reckless.

  Like rushing in where angels were meant to fear to tread.

  CHAPTER 8

  Emelia grunted as she heaved backwards, her grip slipping on the thick root despite the gloves she wore. She gritted her teeth until they hurt and strained harder. When that didn’t succeed in pulling the tangle of roots free from the earth, she wriggled it side to side, up and down, anything to jimmy the damned thing free.

  It still didn’t give.

  She huffed and surrendered, breathing hard as she released the twisted root of the sapling that had decided to make itself at home in the centre of the lawn. It wasn’t the only one. This was only the first birch she had decided to tackle. She was beginning to wonder whether a copse of them might look attractive in the sprawling green.

  Which was another painful task awaiting her, but one she might actually relish.

  The lawn had become overgrown since she had last visited the old manor in the Cambridgeshire countryside. The grass stood over a foot tall, had reached its natural maximum height in the five years since she had stepped foot on the property.

  It was going to take a strimmer first and then a mower, or possibly a damned tractor to get the grass back to a semblance of what it had looked like when she had been a child.

  She looked off to her right, at the elegant sandstone Georgian manor.

  Back when she’d had a family.

  She dragged her gaze away from the building, not wanting to see the sad state it was in because of her neglect, and sighed as she stared down at the unholy mess she had made in the lawn while trying to dig up the first sapling.

  It had seemed like a good place to start at first. Now she regretted it. She couldn’t leave it as it was, with the stub of a trunk poking up at a jaunty angle and the winding roots sticking into the air. Maybe if she dug around the other side of it, she could wriggle it free, or chop enough of the major roots to pull it out of the ground.

  She swiped the back of her glove across her sweat-dampened brow and grimaced as gritty dirt ground against her forehead.

  A huff burst from her lips as she lowered her hand and looked at her filthy gloves. Fantastic. Well, at least it was only her at the mansion. No one would see the mess she was making of herself.


  Electricity charged the air.

  She whirled on her heel to face the mansion and then the trees that surrounded the entire garden. As her gaze panned across the empty tiered circular fountain in the centre of the cross junction of the two paved paths that intersected the overgrown formal garden, it caught on a spark of blue-white light.

  That arc grew, snapping and twisting, spreading until it was unmistakable.

  He was coming.

  Just as that thought crossed her mind, the light blazed so bright it blinded her and thunder rolled across the land. She raised her arm to shield her eyes and flinched away, keeping them shut until the light had faded.

  Keeping them shut long after then.

  Awareness washed over her, his familiar power that charged the air chasing over her skin and shortening her breaths as she fought for calm and control.

  She no longer feared that he would hurt her.

  Now she feared him for another reason.

  Because she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  She slowly lowered her arm and opened her eyes, fixing them on him.

  She had even dreamed of him.

  His bright silver gaze traversed his surroundings, a critical and assessing edge to it. Her gaze traversed him, leisurely roaming over the sculpted planes of his face and his firm mouth, down to his broad shoulders. Her pulse accelerated as she found a tight navy T-shirt hugging his chiselled chest. The morning light accented every honed muscle of it, playing across it in a way she had imagined her fingers doing.

  She shut down that line of thought as adrenaline spiked, her heart pounding for another reason, and forced her eyes away from him.

  Panic closed her throat and she fought it, didn’t want it to overcome her, not now, not when she had been doing so well recently.

  “You are not where I expected to find you.” His warm baritone rolled over her, as smooth as whisky, smoky and decadent.

  When she had wrangled her fears back under control and found the courage to look at him again, he was staring at her forehead.

  “Shit,” she muttered and quickly rubbed her brow with her bare arm, trying to clean the dirt off. “I was gardening.”