Fury Unleashed

by N. J. Walters

  She was making him weak, but it was too late to change the situation. Better to accept it and find a way to minimize the damage.

  Kill her.

  The voice wouldn’t leave him alone. It was louder now, ever since he’d given up some of the remaining grace in his soul to heal her.

  There was no sound behind him, but he turned away from the window, sensing a change in the energy of the room.

  Morrigan was lying on the bed where she’d been the past three days and nights, her body as still as death.

  Her eyes were open.

  In two steps, he was beside her. Her eyes tracked his movement. “Morrigan.” She blinked twice. Something was still very wrong. “Can you move?”

  Panic filled her gaze.

  “It’s okay. You’re safe. We’ll figure this out.” We. Such a tiny word, but the implications were huge. He’d been alone for thousands upon thousands of years until she’d walked into his life.

  A bead of sweat trickled down her temple and disappeared into her vibrant hair. She swallowed, and her lips moved.

  Even though he didn’t need to, he leaned forward to hear her better. Just to be closer.

  “Wha…”

  “What happened?” She blinked in reply to his question. A lie would be easier, but he’d promised to always tell her the truth.

  “Do you remember the alley?”

  A frown marred her forehead. After a brief moment, her chin tipped the tiniest bit.

  “Do you want to sit up?” It was a ploy to put off the discussion a little longer. That wasn’t like him. He was blunt to a fault, didn’t care about anyone else’s feelings. And he still didn’t. Except with Morrigan. For some unfathomable reason, she mattered.

  When her eyes widened, he took that for a yes. He put his arm behind her and eased her into a seated position, stacking several pillows behind her. When there was no longer any reason to delay, he continued.

  “We fought demons. Lucifer stabbed you.” He lifted the dagger off the nightstand and held it so she could see it.

  She lowered her head and peered down at her chest.

  “You’re healed,” he assured her.

  She raised her eyebrows. As expressive as her features were, he wouldn’t fully relax until he heard her voice. “Can you talk yet?” The longer she was awake, the more mobility she seemed to have.

  Her lips moved, but no sound emerged. She swallowed and cleared her throat before trying again. “Yes.” It was a hoarse whisper, but it was her voice.

  Relief melted some of the knots in his shoulder muscles. “There was a fight. I retaliated, and one of my knives hit your sister. She’s dead.”

  He waited for her condemnation, waited for her to take back the love she’d offered. It had never really been his to begin with. It was nothing more than emotion, brought on by their situation. It wasn’t real.

  The emptiness in his chest, the ache in his soul, was very real. He buried it and ignored it. Eventually, it would go away, or he would get so used to it the pain would no longer bother him. It would become a part of him.

  A lone tear slipped from the corner of one of her eyes and slid down her cheek. That tiny drop of salty water was worse than any wound he’d ever been dealt in battle.

  Damn her for doing this to him. His fingers tightened on the knife. The blade began to glow. He should just kill her and put himself out of his misery. She was going back to Hell anyway. It was inevitable.

  “Maccus.” Her low voice whispering his name broke him away from the dark thoughts, ones that weren’t his own but remnants from whatever had been infused into the blade. With a mighty roar, he slammed the knife into the nightstand, snapping the blade off completely. Then he tossed the handle aside.

  “What have you done to me?” He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. There was no fear in her green eyes, only compassion and understanding.

  Hating himself and her, he jumped from the bed and paced. “It has to stop.” He paused at the end of the bed to glare at her. “Do you understand?”

  She closed her eyes and leaned back against the pillows. Panic blasted through him when she remained still.

  “Wake up,” he demanded, hurrying to her side. “Don’t you fucking dare close your eyes.” Fear was a living, breathing entity inside him.

  Hatred burned inside him. Damn Lucifer and Gabriel for getting him into this situation in the first place. Why hadn’t they all left him alone? He’d been fine. Living his life. Hurting only those who’d earned it. No threat to either Heaven or Hell.

  She pressed her hand against his face. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was stronger now. Whatever had been keeping her locked away in her own body for the past three days was loosening its grip.

  He buried his face in her shoulder and inhaled her sweet scent. “I killed your sister.” That fact had to be clear. No way could he allow her to touch him and then withdraw in anger later.

  “She killed herself.”

  Unable to believe what he was hearing, he sat back. There were tears in her eyes, but she appeared calm.

  “It was my knife,” he reminded her, ignoring the voice in his head telling him to shut the fuck up.

  “She’s the one who summoned Lucifer and started us all down this road to where we are now. I’m not sure if she regretted it at the end. Maybe Lucifer was somehow controlling or manipulating her.” She plucked at the blankets, averting her gaze. “It doesn’t really matter. The girl I knew was gone.”

  It was so tempting to believe her.

  “Maybe Kayley could have been saved, but I’m realistic enough to know better.” She closed her eyes and sighed. Before he could panic, she opened them again. “You were trying to hit Lucifer, not my sister.”

  He nodded, still waiting for her to sling accusations at him, to call him a murderer.

  “How long have I been out?”

  “Three days.” An eternity.

  “So long.” Lowering the blanket, she pressed her fingers where the wound had been. “There’s no sign at all.”

  He wished she’d cover up. Seeing her bare breasts made him want to climb on top of her and fuck her until she screamed his name in pleasure. His cock surged to life, the organ having been silent these past few days.

  She was alive and awake, and he wanted her.

  But she was still recovering. A bastard he might be, but not even he was bad enough to push her when she was recovering from near death. He shifted position on the bed, hoping she didn’t notice his erection.

  “It’s been quiet?”

  “Too quiet. They’re waiting to see if you die.”

  “How am I still alive?” The question was tentative.

  “You just are.” And he was damn grateful for it. “You want a shower?”

  “God, yes.” Her fervent answer almost made him smile. He yanked back the covers and lifted her into his arms, still not quite able to believe she’d forgiven him so easily. She’d given up her very soul for her sister. Was this just a ploy? Something to lull him into complacency so she could strike?

  He was past caring.

  Once they were in the bathroom, he gathered some towels while she used the facilities in relative privacy. Then he stripped off his clothes and helped her shower and brush her teeth.

  By the time she was clean, he was sporting an erection that was hard enough to drive nails, although he’d rather pound into her much sweeter and softer flesh.

  He carried her back to the bed. “I’ll get you something to wear.” Better for both of them if she covered up.

  “Stay.” She reached out and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, or at least as far as they could go. Her hands were strong, callused from wielding weapons and fighting.

  Something had been bothering him for quite some time. “You didn’t know your father?”

  The change of
subject startled her, and she pulled the covers over her before replying. Unconcerned about his own nudity, he sat beside her.

  “I told you—he left after my mom got pregnant with me.”

  “But he came back,” he reminded her. “And got pregnant with Kayley.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “You know why you could become a demon hunter, don’t you?”

  “Because I signed over my soul for a specified amount of time to Lucifer.” Her brow furrowed, and her lips turned down in a frown.

  She honestly had no idea. It was too late to backtrack now. Best to just get it done. “Only humans with demon blood can become demon hunters. Only they can be trained in Hell and then come back to live in the human realm and not go crazy eventually. That’s the reason demons have limited time on Earth. If they’re here too long, they get power hungry and go on killing sprees, which isn’t good for anyone.”

  She shook her head, her mouth open, jaw slack. “No. That’s impossible.”

  He pressed his hands on the mattress to keep from touching her. If he did, he wouldn’t be responsible for what happened. Best not to test his resolve.

  “Your father was a demon. It’s why he left and then came back. He would have been on leave from Hell with a limited amount of time. Some demons are drawn to a particular human, and the urge to procreate is overwhelming.”

  She was still shaking her head. “No. I won’t believe it. I’m not part demon. And neither was Kayley.” Horror filled her eyes. He longed to put her fears to rest, but that would be a lie.

  “Demon hunters are part human and part demon. It’s why Lucifer offered you the contract rather than just taking you straight to Hell in exchange for your sister’s life. It’s why Kayley was so easily led to the darkness.”

  “Stop it. Just stop it.” She put her hands over her ears and rocked back and forth.

  He’d been accused of being an unfeeling brute many times in his life. It had never bothered him. But right now, he was acutely aware of the accuracy of the claim. He hadn’t meant to be cruel, only to give her the truth.

  “Morrigan.” He reached out for her, but she pulled away, curling her knees to her chest as though to make herself smaller. She’d always been so brash and brave. Now she was broken.

  And it was his fault.

  He started to leave. She wouldn’t want him around now, but he couldn’t make himself abandon her.

  It was up to him to fix her. If he could heal her from a life-threatening wound, he could find a way to repair the emotional damage he’d done.

  Killing, he was good at. Ruthless, cold, calculating, and single-minded, he knew a thousand ways to dispatch a human, demon, or other paranormal.

  He had no idea how to comfort his demon hunter.

  She made no sound as she cried, but he could smell the salt from her tears, see the silent shaking of her shoulders.

  Unable to bear it any longer, he dragged her into his arms. As soon as he touched her, she began to struggle. “Let me go.”

  “No.” It was the one thing he could not, would not, do.

  She pounded her fists against his shoulders and back. “I’m not a demon. My sister wasn’t a demon. My mother would never have had sex with a demon.”

  That was the heart of it for her.

  “Demons are sly and can have quite pleasing forms. You know that. It was likely she had no idea what he truly was.” Again, it was a truth he could give her. “It’s why you always had more acute senses than most, are stronger than normal, why you never got sick. All that was enhanced when you became a hunter.”

  Her clenched fists beat down on his arms and shoulders, hammered at his chest. This woman knew how to fight, and her efforts were halfhearted at best. He barely felt the blows. No, it was her anguish that nearly brought him down.

  He pulled her closer and pushed her head against his shoulder. “You are not a demon. You have demon blood. That’s not at all the same thing. Unlike a demon, you have human blood, you have a choice, and you made it.”

  “To become a demon hunter.” Defeat was heavy in her voice.

  “No.” He tilted her back until he could see her face. “No,” he repeated. “You chose to protect your sister.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Morrigan was beyond exhausted, physically and mentally. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt any other way. There was so much for her to take in.

  All the fight went out of her, and she relaxed in Maccus’s arms, needing his strength to center her. The attack, then being unconscious and locked in a coma for days, had left her weak.

  Somehow, he’d healed her. His presence and persistence had brought her back from her own personal hell.

  She could remember now, all the details of the battle crystal clear—the blood and guts, the strain of her muscles as she’d fought, the grunts of pain from the demons, their cries of anguish as they fell beneath her blade. The knife that had slammed into her chest. Things got fuzzy after that.

  According to Maccus, he’d launched his knives at Lucifer and had hit her sister.

  He was too good a shot to miss his target.

  But Lucifer wouldn’t have hesitated to use Kayley as a shield.

  “My father was a demon.” Wrapping her head around that was almost impossible. Her father was just like the creatures she captured and sent back to Hell. Maybe she’d even hunted him. “Do you think I’ve met him?”

  “Doubtful.” His deep voice was a calming rumble against her cheek where it rested on his chest. “Lucifer wouldn’t want to risk you sensing something or allow the demon to form an attachment. The fact he went back twice to your mother shows he was more than physically attracted to her.”

  “You think so?” For some unknown reason, that made it seem a bit better.

  “Yes.” That was Maccus, using one word when it would do. He laid out the facts, never trying to convince her of anything.

  “God, I’m so tired.” She was heartsick. So much blood and destruction and death. For what? Power? From what she’d seen, power was little more than an illusion, a fleeting thing that either faded fast or was taken by someone else who wanted what you had. It was all so stupid and pointless.

  Tilting her head back, she looked up at the ruthless killer who’d saved her life and brought her back from the void beyond. “So, what happens now?” As much as she’d like to stay there with the covers pulled over her head, Lucifer wouldn’t allow things to rest as they were.

  Maccus brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. The gesture was both sweet and awkward. “You get strong. Then we go hunting.”

  It was always straightforward for him. If someone was trying to kill you, you killed them first. Except, she’d been sent to kill him, and she was still here.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  It no longer surprised her that he was so in tune with her moods. Nobody was as aware of their surroundings as Maccus. “Do you think Lucifer can use me to hurt you?”

  “No.” Quick and blunt, his assessment was reassuring. “If he could have, he would have already done so. He tried to make you kill me in the alleyway and failed.”

  That made her feel a bit better, but she still worried. “So, what will they do?” Because Gabriel was lurking out there as well.

  “What they do best—manipulate people to get them to do their dirty work.”

  That summed it up perfectly. Wasn’t she hunting demons? That certainly hadn’t been in her top hundred career choices growing up. Yet, here she was.

  The peace that now enveloped them was fleeting. Best to take advantage of it while they could. And wasn’t it convenient that they were in bed? A big, soft bed. And they were both naked, too. Seemed a shame not to take advantage of the situation.

  And there was no way for her not to notice his erection. Not when it was poking her in the side
.

  When she ran her fingers over his chest, he caught her hand and flattened it against his skin. “You need to rest.”

  “I’m not tired,” she assured him. “I’ve slept for three days.” His lips thinned at the reminder, drawing his mouth into a hard line. He was going to be stubborn.

  She turned and straddled his lap, so she faced him.

  “Morrigan,” he began, but she cut him off, not wanting to talk any longer. She leaned in and pressed her lips against his.

  The sound he made was a mix of pain and pleasure. He gripped her hips and yanked her forward until his erection pressed against her stomach. He was so hot and hard, so filled with life. It was what she needed. She’d been so close to death, so close to never having this again.

  And unlike a normal human, she didn’t need as much recovery time. Was she hungry? Yes. But touching Maccus, being with him, was more essential to her than any food could ever be. She needed it to heal her heart and soul.

  When he tilted his head to one side and deepened the kiss, she simply let go of all her worries and lost herself in his touch. They kissed, their lips and tongues teasing and retreating.

  She traced his bulging biceps, outlining the tattoos with her questing fingers, paying special attention to the throwing stars at his shoulders. One of them fell into her hand, making her laugh. Raising it to the light, she examined it closely. “It’s amazing.”

  “Thank you.” He inclined his head.

  “You made this?” It all suddenly made sense. “You made them all.”

  “Yes.” He slid his hands over her hips and waist before bringing them around to the front so he could cup her breasts. His large palms covered the mounds completely, and his fingers teased her taut nipples.

  “They’re all infused with your blood.” They had a part of him in them so that they could be a part of him. “That’s brilliant.” The throwing star disappeared from her hands, reappearing on his body.

  Keeping her hands busy, she skated them down his chest and wrapped one of them around his cock. It pulsed hard and hot against her palm.