I clenched my hands. “You asked what fun party games the bastards have been playing with me, but I want to know what they’ve been doing to you to have made you forget that fam is fam. And that means—”
“What?” Ash whispered, stiffening. His eyes were half-lidded, but he never took his intent stare off me. “You’re…” He swallowed, “…in Hogwarts the X-rated version but you can learn here. The Slytherins, who treat me as the class mascot, see you as a champion. Our retro punk angel is Mage Drake’s boy…” He reached as if to touch his collar but only hovered his fingers over the front of it, afraid to touch: it flared warningly, and he winced. “I’m the creature, not you. I wish that I could be more than that, and I was once. But I’ve played the pet before and I can do it now, if it means that you’re free.”
I rocked, light-headed, whilst static crackled up and down my skin, spitting to escape and blast the world for letting Ash believe that. “Fam means,” I replied, each word as sharp as a polished shank, “that I love you.”
Ash blinked at me.
Then I dived at him, howling with violet and black that blurred the kitchen to nothing but Ash, Ash, Ash…
I snatched him by the shoulders, tumbling him over, until we were yanked by the chains at our throats with mirrored yelps. Then I straddled him, licking down the line of his long neck, whilst he gasped and pushed his hips against mine. My steel nails shot out, gouging thin lines down Ash’s chest. He whined, arching into their touch, as I groaned at the intensity of the sensation: trembling shocks that radiated from their sensitive tips. I quaked, biting my lip at the overload. My wings burst to flames at the rush.
Then I lapped at the trails of crimson, shuddering at the bursts of rich power and longing.
Home.
Hell, Ash’s blood was home, and I hungered to drink every drop of him and live in his scarlet…
My eyes widened.
Ash’s dazed gaze focused, as if he’d caught my thought, then he slammed his lips against mine: hard and possessive. His fingers tangled in my hair, holding me still. Here was the dark solider of the Under World, who’d dominated the Devil’s Trident in a dance with death that’d paled even mine.
No one’s bastard pet.
When I ran my fingers through his feathers, he keened. Meant as a punishment to torment by Lucifer, Seducers were hypersensitive and kept on a constant edge because they couldn’t reach their own completion unless their wingtips were touched. Seducers were meant to be toys: to give pleasure and not receive.
Ash wasn’t Lucifer’s anymore, however, his pleasure was his own.
So, I didn’t tease, as I caressed along Ash’s wings. I burned to sear away the mages’ touch on him, the lonely days, and his doubts, as well as to prove my love, which tottered new born. His prick pulsed between our bodies like his obsidian wingtips. I crawled over him, stroking his right wingtip, before sucking it hard between my lips.
Ash’s back bowed, as he howled. Yet then he snatched my hand, sucking my claw into his mouth.
Hell, hell, hell…
Electrified, it was my turn to howl, as I closed my eyes, slamming my other fist, nails out, screeching across the slate. The winding coils from my gums to my wings built to a wailing crescendo, until finally nothing but black…
Groaning, I opened my eyes.
Back in the land of the living, Violet-hell?
What in the holy big ‘O’s, was that, J?
That was a Seducer’s big ‘O’, and there’s nothing holy about that slice of heaven. Your Geek Fang and his wand had a magical moment: he took you to heaven.
Death and sex in the same clever nail mods. Kudos to the Fangs.
If you were his food, the Seducer would be snacking on you. If you paint Eat Me on your arse, sooner or later some dick will take a bite.
Not Ash. I trust him. He’s earned that.
And all it took was the sacrifice of everything he had.
I winced, unable to banish the memory of Ash’s sisters in the Fire Catacombs being burned alive by Lucifer’s Light because I’d taught them to talk: How I’d been forced to watch their deaths alongside Ash, when all I’d been able to offer them had been hope.
And it’d been a lie.
Everything had been an illusion. What was real now?
The walls pressed against me: the humming louder and more oppressive.
I shifted up onto my side, huddling my arms around my knees.
Ash lounged against a stool, which was beside the table; he might as well have been smoking a cigarette. “So, that was an I love you shag?” His tone had lost its vulnerability and was back to teasing. “I’ve heard about those. Does that mean you haven’t…forgotten…that I love you?”
“You may have knocked me out but you haven’t screwed my memory.” I forced myself to ignore the shadows crowding from the walls and their warning whine that set my teeth on edge. “I’ll remember, as long as you don’t go forgetting that you’re fam. Why would you…?”
“Do you have to know?”
“You mean pretend?”
Ash raised his eyebrow. “We’re already collared, what more role play do you want?”
“I only want the truth.”
I hated the way that Ash’s gaze became blank. I knew the look — I’d worn it myself at Jerusalem Children’s Home to hide from my abusers. I’d seen it on Drake because of my mum, the Matriarch, who now violated as Marked Wing my father, Lucifer.
I never wanted Ash to look that way.
“The truth?” Ash tugged at the chain, and it clanked. “I’m yours to be used. So, use me.”
I stared at him, breathing hard. Then I shuffled over to him, even though he cringed back, stroking a wave of hair out of his eyes. He stiffened like I was going to pounce on him and use him like he’d offered. Instead, I leaned in, scenting the divine orange and clove aroma on his neck, before kissing him tenderly just under his ear.
He shivered.
“What this cult does to us, calls us, or convinces us to think… it doesn’t make us what we are. I’ll never use you. You’re my bloke: a funny, loyal, Stars Wars obsessed geek.” I played with his fingers. “And you’re also the dark Brigadier with freaking swag.”
Ash grinned. “That’s why you love me, monkey muffins.”
I arched my brow. “You want to go there? Because I’m sure that there’s a butter knife around here…”
I scanned the gloom of the kitchen: the hearth, soot-blackened chimney, trestle table that gleamed with knives… I dived for the table, just as Ash caught me around the middle with a whoop.
“What’s wrong, babe…?” Ash taunted.
“You’re going down. Where’s the garlic crusher…?” I spluttered with laughter, as Ash nibbled kisses along the chafed skin around my collar.
“Sorry.” Ash nibbled a final kiss, but his gleaming eyes didn’t look sorry. “If you can hold back from my cutesy name death, why have you been locked here in chains?”
I sighed. “Disobeyed.” Ash glanced up at me sharply. I knew that we were both remembering the searing heat and stink of the Fire Catacombs and his own disobedience against Lucifer. “You’re not the only one who can play the defiance card. Rahab’s not like my dad but he’s still a tyrant. You think I’m safe here? Then you’ve been drinking crazy juice because Rahab rules with punishment.”
“You can’t just rebel,” Ash’s voice had hardened to steel. ‘This isn’t the Under World, where anarchy is prized. You’ll be broken. And these aren’t kids playing at wizards but zealot cult soldiers. If you want to fight them…” He stared at me, questioningly. “Then you’ll have to toughen yourself to be like them or you’ll be the one who snaps. After everything we’ve sacrificed…” His breath hitched, and I bastard knew that he was thinking of his sisters’ tiny fingers raised to the viewing panel, whilst fire blasted through the furnace, just as I was. “…Don’t you want to take down the true Emperor behind Angel World?”
Hell, Ash knew me too well. How had he always b
een able to worm under my skin, digging at the parts that I’d thought hidden?
The shadows lapped at my mind, hungrily, as the walls ballooned closer.
I wrapped my wings around Ash, as I peeked around the kitchen. “I’m on it, bro,” I whispered. “I’m working undercover.”
Ash kissed me, urgent and hard. Startled, I tried to pull back, but he murmured against my lips, “Castle Drake is alive, Violet, like an evil Tardis. Mage Drake doesn’t need spies, when he’s everywhere at once. Whatever you’re planning…however you’re playing the Legion…keep it inside that beautiful brain of yours.”
The whining in the kitchen became a furious buzzing in my mind, threading hot magic through my brain as it quested…
“What about the pretty Commander, Rahab’s son? I’m in a brutal Hunger Games style contest with him. But if he knew—”
“He can’t. Unless you want to report on yourself to the Mage…? The angel grew up here; he’s no newbie to suffering. And we’ve all sacrificed for you.” Ash’s eyes were as hard as he’d told me I needed to become. Why did I forget that my family were each other’s ancient enemies and only reluctant allies because of me? Why would Ash care if Drake hurt? It was only me that it tore up inside. “Break the Ice Commander. Win the battle. Then we’ll be by your side to help win the war.”
I blinked away tears, holding Ash closer to hide them. “If this was Rebel…?”
Ash tensed but nodded. “If this was our Irish angel, he’d have already volunteered to be broken.”
Then why did I feel like I was being shattered? “My brother—”
“Isn’t you.” I started at Ash’s sudden intensity. “You can’t save everybody, and not everybody wants saving.”
“By the Phoenix, have you no honor?” Kunel’s nasal sneer broke across the gloom.
Startled, I peered up, as Kunel and Och, like the Blond-haired Avengers, marched clattering across the kitchen. The fire flared in the hearth, surging up until we were lit by its flames.
I cocked my head. “Nope, but I have a killer smile and sassy wit. Does that count?”
“Plus, a biteable arse,” Ash muttered.
“Oh,” I smirked up at Kunel, “and a biteable arse.”
Exploding mage: the cooks were going to have a hell of a mess to clear up in the morning.
Kunel’s blotchy face loomed closer. He snatched my chin. “You were chained here, apprentice, to teach you how low you could Fall, but instead you’ve reveled in your debasement, even touching the Fallen’s dirty whore.”
Black rose in roaring waves inside me at the way that Ash flinched at each word. I’d wanted to know why he’d changed: and with each venomous word I learned the truth.
At least, I thought so, until Kunel narrowed his eyes and commanded, ‘Down, creature.”
Suddenly, Ash scrambled back from me; his eyes widened. He juddered like he was being shocked throughout his entire body. His wings spread out in agony, and he whimpered.
I twisted to Kunel. “Bastard, stop.”
Kunel smiled but only tutted, before repeating, “Down, creature.”
This time, when he hesitated, Ash howled. Steam rose from his seared feathers; scarlet dribbled from the corner of his mouth.
The collar smoldered molten gold, as the skin beneath bubbled into blisters.
A bastard shock collar… No wonder the mages didn’t need anything else to mark Ash.
I snatched onto Kunel’s trousers, shaking them. “Please…”
Ash threw himself onto his front, prostrated before the angels. Slowly, his shaking stopped, and the steam settled.
“A Compulsion Collar punishes disobedience or even hesitation.” Kunel chortled. “Some days I think that the Brotherhood could be reformed so much more smoothly if we used these on apprentices.” Och didn’t join in Kunel’s laugher. He scrutinized me: his gaze was serious and inscrutable. “But they are useful in the interrogation and training of Fallen to teach them their place.”
I glared at Kunel. “You know the place of my boot? Your balls, bitch.”
“Time to stop talking now.” I eeped, as Och yanked the chain with a hiss of magic out of the metal ring, hauling me up and dangling me in front of him, until the collar choked me. I coughed, clawing at my throat. His icy stare met mine. “Somehow, you’ve tricked my brother; Zophia risked everything for you. Do you even know or care how you’ve destroyed him, creature?” When he shook the chain, I gurgled; my lungs ached, desperate for air. “He’s always had so little here. So, when I fought for the assignment on the Under World for him, it was his chance. And he threw it away for you. Yet you’re the traitor, are you not?”
Even as my vision grayed, I knew that I was missing something.
Traitor…? And how had I destroyed Mischief?
“Now your spark is also poisoning our dear Duma,” Kunel enthused, like the camp leader and not the prick who’d forced a sobbing Drake to crawl through the gauntlet. “If he wasn’t lit by your spark, he could return to the love of the Brotherhood. I must save our boys from you, cutting out your cancerous influence, if you don’t reform.”
At last, I understood how I’d destroyed both Mischief and Drake; I spluttered with the pain and aching truth of Och and Kunel’s insults. I’d stolen both my angel lovers’ chances with my Angelic Power, which incited loyalty.
Was I no better than either of my parents?
Better than a creature?
Should I be saving the Legion and the world from Rahab…or myself?
I sagged, as Och twisted the chain. The shadows swallowed me.
Suddenly, the kitchen pans began to rattle and clink. The fire roared. Kunel dropped me with a holler, whilst the room lurched to the side like it’d sneezed.
“Now you bring a vampire attack upon us,” Och hollered.
I blinked away the blackness, holding my hand to my bruised throat, as the walls shimmered and screeched.
Vampire attack…?
Ash reached for my hand, but with a sudden tilt, I was tossed to the other side of the kitchen, tumbling over the table and catching my hip with a sharp enough pain to bring me all the way to consciousness again.
Then I was falling through the wavering wall.
I became soft taffy, weaving through shadows, as I was dragged out of Castle Drake. Briny water burst down on my shoulders, thrusting my head beneath the waves of the Atlantic Ocean, until I was drowning.
7
Drowning smelled surprisingly like dropping into a barrel of fresh apples.
My lungs screamed, as I held my breath. I thrashed in the salty water that stung my nostrils, tumbling around in the black ocean.
Which way was the surface…?
I clamped closed my eyes against the panic, as I flailed desperately towards air, except there was nothing but water, water, water…and I couldn’t breathe.
Hell, I couldn’t breathe.
So, this was drowning?
I hadn’t even ticked off half the names on my List of Asses to Kick. I’d thought that I’d at least go out in a blaze of glory, rather than this cold death on the ocean bed.
Darkness shouldered in around me; my vision was shutting down.
I couldn’t hold my breath any longer. As soon as I opened my mouth, however, water would rush in, and I’d be dead…
Then wings cocooned me in the aroma of orchards, whilst lips caressed against mine, pressing open my mouth.
I shook my head. My pulse was like a living thing, pounding in my ears, but strong arms held me close, whilst magic skittered, sparking across the kiss. I inhaled, choking on the sudden oxygen. Then greedy for it, I twined my tongue with my angel rescuer, deepening the kiss and dragging more oxygen into my burning lungs.
Slowly, my mind calmed.
My awakening magic unwound itself from around my neck, ignited by the kiss and freed from my own personal terror of drowning. Then I clamped my wings around the angel — and now it was his turn to struggle — as I yanked him backwards through the blac
k.
Bastard dry land…
The thought burst through me, driving the magic, shadows, and the booming thud of the ancient powers deep inside.
Crash — I landed on a strip of coral rock, below a crumbling cliff and the steep face of the castle.
The wind whipped the ocean spray against me in stinging lashes. A drain sluiced water in and out of the castle’s wall.
The angel who’d breathed air into my lungs sprawled underneath me. Except, now that I’d opened my eyes, and my wings flamed us in a ghost violet light, I could see that his wings were dappled with gray, rather than violet.
A Shadow: an angel who was Falling, becoming a vampire because he’d been away too long from Angel World.
Hell, how had I forgotten the vampire attack…?
Yeah, that’s right: drowning.
I shoved the Shadow onto his front; he let out a shocked oomph.
“Hey, easy on the feathers, or I’ll have to ruffle your pretty ones right back,” Harahel pouted. “And since when was this a kinky nudist camp?”
I flushed, crossing my arms over my tits.
Harahel brushed his waist length brunet curls out of his eyes, before twisting them to squeeze out the water with his single hand, since his right hand was missing. In the Under World, it hadn’t mattered that he’d lost his limb in battle: he hadn’t been seen as an Imperfect. Instead, he’d been taken as Blood Lover by Misrule, one of the highest-ranking civilians, who’d run the rebellion to overthrow my dad.
Harahel’s ash harem pants, which in Angel World had denoted his Imperfect status, had been replaced with black leather trousers, a sheathed ivory dagger, and an army green Great Coat with bone buttons. I grinned to see him restored to the legendary soldier that he’d been before Angel World had reduced him to a librarian.
When I shivered, he slipped off his Great Coat, shrugging it over my shoulders; it smelled of him, like springtime. I burrowed into it, sniffing the collar. “Cheers, but what are you doing floundering around like a feathery fish? This is a mage wasp nest; they sting intruders to death.”
Rebel Angels: The Complete Series Page 83
