by Erin Snihur
Darius answers for them and my heart aches as he speaks my name with cold indifference, “They are my friends, Elara." He points to the leader, “Ezekiel." The woman, “Dina." The large man who is leaning against my wall in the back, “Gideon." And finally ends on the mysterious man in sunglasses who asked me that odd question, “Pascal.”
I nod to all of them, nervous by the looks I receive in return. They all seem to hate me or just really enjoy glaring. I thought angels were supposed to be cheerful and friendly? Kneeling down to pick up the bigger shards of the broken vase, I gently gather as much of the broken vase as I can before standing once more to full height.
“What seems to be the problem?" I ask, thankful my voice doesn’t waver and reveal the fact that I am holding in the pain of seeing Darius acting so indifferent and harsh.
Pascal interrupts again before Darius can, “The sword. It is missing.”
All eyes seem to level on me, even Pascal’s. Though I cannot see the direction of his gaze through the dark-tinted sunglasses, I feel it. It is as if his gaze is inside of me, searching. For what I had no idea. Then, his words begin to sink in.
“You think I took the sword? How? After I was stabbed by Tarnin and nearly died?" I am flabbergasted. Stomping over to a plastic bag I left on my coffee table, I dump the pieces of broken vase into it and spin around, hands on my hips as I glare at Darius.
“It is a lot of power for one to wield. Very appealing to those that have been powerless in life." Pascal murmurs. His words burned my ears.
“You are welcome to it. I don’t need a sword with magical powers to help me live my life." Glaring at Pascal and then at Darius who just stands there allowing his friend to darken my character.
I stare Darius in the eye as I send him a beseeching look, pleading with him to believe me, “You know me, Darius. I would never steal the Flaming Sword.”
“I know that, but the sword is still missing and we’ve been tasked to find it or else face the consequences." Darius’ face shows everything. His anger, despair and a twinkle of what I hoped was the love he feels for me.
“What consequences?" I ask, not sure if I even wanted to know the answer. My stomach curdles with dread as Darius exchanges a glance with Ezekiel. The silent leader nods back and signals for the others to depart.
“Let’s give them a minute,” Ezekiel’s gruff voice mutters as he exits my tiny apartment.
As they all shuffle out, Pascal is the only one who exchanges a look with me. It is almost like he doesn’t truly wish to leave and wants to continue his questioning.
Darius follows until the last of his friends are out the door and slowly slides the door closed. The click of the lock sends me on edge and I brace myself. Darius slowly turns back to face me; his eyes never leave my face as his long legs bring him towering over me. I’d always felt small next to him. Cherished. Now I wasn’t sure what I should be feeling.
Without thinking I place my hand on his chest and feel his muscles tense beneath my hand as I do. “Tell me, Darius.”
Darius’ dark eyes gaze deep into my own. There seemed to be a war brewing in his mind. He’s fighting something. But what?
Finally, he lets out a sigh and hangs his head. His forehead brushes against my own. I instinctively raise mine up higher, bumping my nose against his own. I don’t stop him as his strong arms wrap around me and pull me into his embrace. He even smells the same. Smokey and manly. My angel.
As he holds me, our bodies melt together in warmth. His face buries into my hair, resting below my ear at my neck. His muffled words break my heart as he speaks.
“I just need to hold you for a few minutes."
Brushing his lips against my neck, I let out a breathy gasp at the tingling sensations that dart through my body at the faintest touch. My body hums awake at the contact and inwardly, I am flipping over backwards and forwards. This is the Darius I know and love.
As I move to wrap my arms around his neck, Darius quickly pulls back and I find myself pressed up against the wall with my hands locked above my head. Darius is breathing heavily, as if he had just run a hundred miles. As I stare into his eyes, I find the desire overflowing from his gaze.
“Perhaps longer than a few minutes,” I whisper to Darius teasingly.
His familiar smirk quickly fills his face as he leans in and our lips meet for the first time in six months. The kiss isn't slow or tentative. It is passionate and burning, building with anticipation for so much more.
With my hands locked above my head, Darius slowly slides his free hand down my body to cup my bottom with a possessive squeeze. Pulling away from my hungry lips, much to my whimpering displeasure, Darius orders through his harsh breathing.
“Bedroom."
That one word is enough for me to practically melt out of my panties. I feel like I am on fire when his lips inevitably found mine again. His hands are no longer all over me and instead are practically dragging me in the direction of my bedroom. How he knew where my bedroom is doesn’t seem to matter in this moment.
All the care and gentleness of our first time seems to be decades in the past and in its place, we are practically fighting each other to get our clothes off. My bedroom door kicks open easily enough. The next thing I know I am lying on the bed gazing into the eyes of the man I loved and almost died for. It is like a dream. One I never want to wake up from.
Watching him pull off his shirt, I try to memorize everything about his movements. Who knew how long we had. His aroused face morphs into that of pain as I push myself up to run my hands over his chest.
The bulge in his pants was obvious and clearly painful. Darius sucks in a harsh breath as my fingers lightly brush against his ribs. His chest is just as I remembered it. He seems leaner somehow, like he hasn’t been eating properly.
“Let me help,” I whisper and slowly my hands delve lower, where his jeans hang off his hips. With the pop of the button and a quick push, which prompted a hiss from Darius’ clenched teeth, he was free. I smirked up at him and gently placed a kiss near his belly button.
“No briefs?”
Clasping my face in his hands, Darius smiles down at me adorably. “I was in a rush to see you."
With that, I quickly run one of my hands up his now naked thigh and cup his hard, warm length, earning another hiss from his lips, this time out of desire.
“You’re playing with fire, Elara." His whispered words cause my lips to form into a coquettish grin as I open my eyes and stare up at him.
“Burn me, Darius," I whisper, my hand now wrapped around his hard length as I squeeze him teasingly.
The hours seem to slip away as our bodies became one in a tangled-up mess of pure bliss. Though my body is sore, it is a pleasurable soreness that has me turning to nestle closer to Darius’ warm form. I never want to sleep without him by my side again.
It isn’t until hours later that I saw them. The scars that littered Darius’ back as he rose from the bed and untangled himself from me. They were jagged and red. Clearly recent or perhaps they weren’t healing properly.
I didn’t say anything at first; but when he returns from my bathroom, the concern and confusion was evident on my face.
“Darius? Your back?" It is all I can say to stop my voice from shaking and the tears from flowing. Someone had hurt him.
As he returns to bed, I notice he still winces and shifts to lay on his stomach. With a nod of his head, Darius allows me to gently lay my hand near his lower back. The wounds were warm and I shudder at the pain he must be experiencing.
“Who did this to you, Darius?” I whisper.
He didn’t answer right away and instead took my hands in his and kisses them softly, “It matters not, Little Moon. I will take any punishment to ensure your safety and well-being.”
My heart leaps at his words and sinks all at the same time as my eyes catch sight of the jagged wounds.
“Can’t you heal faster? Why were you punished in the first place?” I ask as Darius slowly shakes h
is head in response.
“I must heal the old-fashion way. You are worth any pain, Elara. Let us not ruin our time alone with talk of such things."
Before I can speak any further, he pulls me back into the bed. His lips meet mine and hushes the sounds of my protest. Soon we are once again cocooned against each other.
I never want this to end.
3
Elara
What the heck is that noise?
I growl to myself and sit up in bed. As I do, I brush the hair out of my face and watch as Darius is already pulling on his dark jeans. His scarred back stops me, but the sound of someone banging on my front door is enough to focus me on the task at hand.
“Who could that even be?” I grumble.
I grab my housecoat and glance at the clock. Six in the morning flashes brightly at me. Great, we’ve managed to completely lose track of time.
“I believe you have a visitor. Does he always visit this early in the morning or have you been that lonely without me that you’ve resorted to being his plaything once again?” Darius’ words are like a stake to the heart and I am about to protest when a loud shout from the front door sounds.
“Elara! Open up! I know you’re in there!” My blood freezes at the cause of the loud pounding.
Hudson.
My ex-boyfriend, who cheated and lied to me for who knows how long is pounding his fist on my front door. Hudson had been planning on taking all of my money when I died in that coma. When I had awoken, he’d been furious that I’d just brushed him off like the cockroach that he was.
One problem at a time, Elara.
Turning to Darius who looked furious at the interruption, I winced as I held up my hands to stop him from leaving the room.
“Let me handle him and for the record I haven’t slept with anyone since…well, you know.”
I blush as I recall our first time in the InBetween. The pounding door startles me and I put my hands on Darius’ chest to stop his movement. He is so warm; and as I stare at his muscled chest further, I can faintly make out scratches left behind from my nails.
Real classy, Elara.
“Stay.” I order and rush down the hallway.
All the while, Darius grumbles out a sarcastic “woof” in my direction. At the end of the hall, I shoot him a teasing glare before disappearing down my front hallway.
Pulling my housecoat tighter around me, I grimace at the thought of facing Hudson, especially with Darius here. How he had gotten into the building, or even found out where my new apartment was, was beyond me. Peeking through the peephole, I groan at the sight of the man I once envisioned spending the rest of my life with.
Hudson is completely unrecognizable to the man who dreamed of one day being the most successful attorney in the country. His face is pale, almost sickly, his eyes are sunken in and he has definitely lost some weight. Even Hudson’s hair, which had once glowed bright, is now greasy and seems to be thinning in some places. I should have been jumping for joy at the sight of him, after what he had done to me, but all I feel is pity for the shell of the man I’d once called family.
I yell through the door, not stupid enough to open it, “Hudson, you need to leave. If you don’t, I’m calling the police.”
I watch through the peephole, gaging his reaction. I hadn’t expected his eyes to darken at the sound of my voice or his gaze to look directly into the peephole. Jumping back from the door in surprise, I watch as my door knob turns; and I’m immediately thankful that Darius locked it the night before.
“Open the door, Elara. We need to talk. Now!” Hudson snarls through the door as he begins to twist and pull on the doorknob. Before I can respond, I hear the telltale signs of the door creaking under the pressure. Backing away, I grow pale at the sight of my door beginning to move and bend under his weight.
Impossible.
Rushing into my kitchen, I grab my phone and start to call for the police. Before I can even press the first digit, a loud crash sounds from the main hallway and splintering wood flies past the kitchen door. An uncontrollable scream erupts from my throat. I pray a neighbor nearby heard and will call the cops.
Hudson’s pale form strides through the main hallway and turns to stand in the doorway of my kitchen. His once handsome face is now sneering in disgust down at me. My skin goosebumps in awareness as I stare, wide-eyed at his now pitch-black eyes.
Something’s wrong, a voice whispers in the back of my head.
Hudson’s fists are clenched and before he can take another step toward me, Darius appears behind him. I only catch a glimpse of the shiny vase in Darius’ hand before he is swinging it in the air and smashing it over Hudson’s head. Wincing in shock, I watch as Hudson’s pitch-black eyes roll into the back of his head.
Hudson’s body drops in an instant to the ground and I let out a squeak of surprise as Darius chucks what’s left of the vase in his hand on the floor. Darius pauses to give Hudson’s body a kick and when Hudson doesn’t respond, he turns his gaze to me.
“Are you hurt?”
I can’t breathe. I’m in shock. The current love of my life just smashed my ex-lover over the head with a vase. This is the kind of stuff you see happen in movies or books.
Damn it, Elara, the man you love is an angel! Anything’s possible!
When Darius asks me again, all I can do is shake my head in response. He swiftly pulls out a cellphone from his pocket and I stare in shock as he begins to make a call. As if this whole situation is perfectly normal.
You need space, the voice in my head whispers.
Agilely, I step around Hudson’s unconscious body and make my way into my main hallway. I gasp in shock at what was left of my front door. A quarter of the top of the wooden door is barely hanging on from the hinges. Wood is littered on the floor, but no one emerges from the surrounding apartments to investigate.
How had my neighbors not heard that?
My racing thoughts are distracted when I hear Darius’ conversation on the cellphone.
“He’s neutralized. You can move in now. Keep things silent.”
I wait and listen quietly as Darius whispers something more in his angelic language and hangs up the phone. As he is slipping his phone into his pocket, Darius’ hands extend to take my hand. I meet his hands and allow him to pull me from the main hallway. As he is sitting me on the couch, everything begins to sink in.
Darius is back. The Flaming Sword is missing. We slept together. Hudson is here. He’s unconscious on my kitchen floor.
Inwardly, I’m cringing as I spare a glance towards my kitchen, half-expecting Hudson to pop right back up and continue yelling.
“Are you sure you’re not hurt? Did any of the splinters cut you?” Darius murmurs as his hands run over me, checking me for injury, I suppose. I shake my head and clasp my fingers together tightly to keep them from shaking.
“We need to call 911,” I finally manage to say and attempt to stand, but Darius pulls me back to sit and shakes his head in my direction.
“We can’t, Elara.”
Before he can elaborate any further, his group of friends appear in my destroyed doorway. The muscle, Gideon, enters first and whistles as he takes in the destruction. Dina enters next sneering at Hudson’s unconscious form before making her way toward us, followed by a serious looking Ezekiel and a calm, faced Pascal. Amazingly, Pascal requires no assistance making his way through the wreckage of my home.
“Wow. He really did a number on your door, huh?” Gideon mutters in awe.
Without missing a beat, the large angel enters my kitchen and proceeds to drag Hudson’s unconscious body toward my dining room table. As Gideon drops Hudson into a chair, I watch as he too sneers in disgust at Hudson’s unconscious form, though his blue eyes are wary.
Finally, pleased with Hudson’s seating arrangement, Gideon shoots Dina a serious glance and orders, “Chains, Dina.”
I watch in shock as Dina steps away from us, as graceful of an angel that she is and pulls iron chains o
ut of her bookbag. The tiny woman doesn’t even look alarmed as both she and Gideon begin to weave the chains around Hudson.
As I try to peer closer to the chains, I notice they have runes etched into them, like the Flaming Swords blade. I stand, shrugging Darius’ hands off of me as Dina and Gideon finish restraining Hudson to the chair.
“Are those really necessary? I’m sure Hudson’s just drunk or something. The police can handle him...”
My words trail off as all eyes shift to meet mine and then Darius before returning to me. I grow nervous under their gaze as Darius clasps my shoulders and turns me to face him. His face is serious, but his eyes are filled with pity.
“They are necessary, Elara. That isn’t Hudson. He’s been possessed by a demon.” Darius pauses and allows those words to sink in as I stare up at him, utterly confused. My gaze shifts to the others and they all stare back, equally serious. Darius would never lie about this, would he?
He’s telling the truth. You saw the darkness in Hudson’s eyes yourself, the little voice in my head whispers to me.
Clutching my head with one hand, I pull myself away from Darius to pace the room. My eyes never leave Hudson’s unconscious form, still clad in the rune chains.
“So, let me get this straight. My ex-boyfriend has been possessed by a demon and what, he wants to kill me or something?” I yell, completely convinced I’ve gone insane.
Ezekiel sighs, much like a parent who has grown disappointed with his child, “Did you not tell her anything last night or were you too busy engaging in relations?”
Ezekiel sneers the word relations in my direction and I wince at the power I feel emanating from him. He’s angry, either at the situation or me. Maybe both.
His harsh words cause me to blush as I pull the housecoat tighter, finally aware that I’m completely naked underneath. Darius, sensing my unease, moves to stand in front of me, effectively shielding me from everyone’s gaze.
“Watch your tongue, Ezekiel, I have no qualms about cutting it from your mouth,” Darius threatens, earning a glare from Ezekiel.
