The Devil's Angel: A Paranormal Vampire Romance Novel (Devil Series Book 2)

by Raven Steele

A second later, a diablo with patchy white hair snagged Lucien’s arm, but Lucien shoved him away. He turned to go up the stairs, but two other diablos pulled him back. Others soon joined in, tugging him in different directions as if they might rip him apart. There was no organization, no communication between them, only chaos. One bit his leg; the teeth were sharp and sunk to his calf. He would’ve kicked it away, but he’d been too busy fighting two others who were trying to gouge his eyes out with long human-like claws.

  The diablos weren’t strong, but their numbers made their strength ferocious. Lucien rolled over, forcing several of them to lose their grip. He stood and kicked at a few more as they circled him. Before they could complete it, Lucien darted for the stairs and disappeared.

  That night, so many years ago, he hadn’t been prepared for battle. Tonight, however, he would destroy them all.

  Chapter 10

  Lucien charged down the steps, a dagger in one hand, another in his boot, and a pistol behind his back. When he reached the bottom, at least two dozen diablos turned to look at him. One by one, they all stood.

  “Go back to hell,” Lucien growled.

  He tossed the dagger first, almost severing a diablo’s head. He whipped the gun from behind his back and pulled the trigger again and again. Bullets tore through flesh, spraying the walls with blood and shards of bone. Bodies of the undead collapsed into each other, blood oozing in rivers across pale white skin.

  Lucien managed to squeeze off another round of bullets before he was finally attacked. A fully changed diablo shoved Lucien hard, making him stumble to the ground. A nearby, partially changed diablo scrambled up his legs. Lucien kicked it hard in the face with the heel of his boot; the bones in the creature’s face collapsed under the force.

  From behind him, cold, damp hands gripped the underside of his jaw and pulled up as if attempting to rip off his head. Lucien grunted, flexing his jaw muscles tight, then stretched up and found the skull of the beast. Digging his fingers into its balding scalp, Lucien twisted hard until its neck bones made a series of pops. The creature fell limp, nearly collapsing on top of him.

  Without warning, Lucien’s legs were jerked forward by two diablos, each one gripping an ankle tightly. They dragged him toward the back of the room where there was nothing but darkness. Lucien clawed at the concrete ground, trying to stop their momentum, but when that didn’t work, he leaned up and slipped the other dagger from his boot.

  In a lightning-quick movement, he sliced off one of the hands around his foot. It fell to Lucien’s side, the fingers writhing like a worm cut in half. With his right leg now free, he kicked at the arm of the other diablo, snapping it in two.

  Lucien jumped to his feet just as something hard smashed against his head, temporarily stunning him. With stars in his eyes, he turned around to face his attacker. A diablo held a two-by-four in both hands. He swung at Lucien’s head again.

  Lucien raised his arm and stopped the board inches from striking his face. With his other hand, he tightened his fist and smashed it against the monster. The diablo barely flinched. When that didn’t work, Lucien kicked him hard in the gut with more effective results. The diablo fell backwards and dropped the board.

  As Lucien reached for it, he spotted a glimmer of silver at its top. A bent over nail. In one fluid motion, he straightened it, and then in an upswing, smashed the board into the side of the diablo’s head. The creature’s limp body crashed into the wall behind him, shattering several of the cinder blocks. The noise excited a primal extinct within Lucien, and he grinned wildly.

  Air poured into Lucien’s lungs, filling him with newfound energy. He sprinted around the room, using his bare hands to kill as many as he could. The feel of their bones breaking beneath his fingers reminded him of his own evil tendencies. He was no different from them. Demons from hell.

  Diablos retreated to the back of the room and into the darkness. Lucien pursued them cautiously, especially when he realized the room was filling with an unnatural fog, forcing him to rely on his other senses.

  Not far off, metal scraping against metal echoed throughout the room. Lucien moved faster, ignoring the blinding smoke until he reached a closed metal door. He tried to open it, but it was locked from the other side.

  Beyond the door, diablos scurried away to some secret destination. Lucien punched and kicked at the door, letting out the last of his rage. The door sustained many dents, but didn’t yield to his demands.

  He slumped to the ground in the darkness, exhausted, but at least he felt better. Eve had made him out to be something he wasn’t, made him begin to feel things he shouldn’t. Ever. But this killing spree had reminded him of what he was—a monster.

  After several minutes, Lucien left the diablos’ hole in the ground and returned to the hotel, no longer angry but frustrated. He must make Eve fear him. She knew what he was and was still unafraid. This knowledge made him nauseated. Someone as beautiful and good as Eve should never be near the likes of him.

  As the hours passed, and he thought more of Eve, he wondered again if he’d met her before. That would explain how she knew him, and why she seemed so familiar. It wasn’t her appearance he recognized, but the way she spoke and the graceful movements of her hands. Even the way her lips turned up, one side slightly higher than the other, was familiar.

  And then he remembered.

  He had met her; at least, he thought he had. It was almost two years ago in Coast City, and the woman there had been a witch, a powerful and evil one. Lucien hated witches. They were often cruel and narcissistic. But that woman he’d met in the park wasn’t the Eve he knew today. That woman had had dark hair, and there had been no light in her eyes, only darkness and an unquenchable hunger for power. They couldn’t have been the same woman. A relative perhaps?

  Maybe that explained why Eve had sought him out, to get revenge for some cousin he’d insulted. Unlikely, but why else then?

  No matter. He knew what had to be done.

  He moaned and dropped into his chair. Why was Eve so foolish? Didn’t she know he could snap her like a twig if he wanted? He didn’t want to hurt her, but he knew if he didn’t sufficiently instill fear in her, then she may continue her dangerous game. If not with him, then maybe with another vampire. Lucien had to end this.

  Shortly before Eve was to return, Lucien perched in the tree across from her house. He was colder than usual, and yet he was perspiring, a rare occurrence. There could only be one reason for this: he was about to crush the most beautiful thing to ever come into his life.

  Chapter 11

  Just as she’d promised, Eve arrived promptly at 8:00 p.m. She walked inside her house, leaving the door open behind her. Lucien knew this was meant for him. The act of her assuming he’d rush to her flamed his anger, so he decided to make her wait.

  After some time, he finally entered her home and found her in the kitchen. She stood across the room from him, eyes steady, hands at her side. He didn’t wait for her to speak. He couldn’t bear it.

  Before he could second-guess himself, he stormed over and shoved Eve hard against a wall a few feet behind her. She crumpled to the floor; dust from the broken drywall puffed into the air.

  “No one plays games with me,” he growled.

  Eve struggled to stand, one hand pushing her upward, the other steadying herself against the dented wall. Her eyes slowly met his, but Lucien didn’t see what he wanted within that gaze. She was not afraid.

  He appeared before her in a blink of an eye. “I’ll make you fear me.”

  Lucien reached for a nearby table and flipped it upwards. It crashed into the ceiling, splintering into a hundred pieces, then fell to the floor along with the glass light fixture.

  Continuing with the destruction, he raised his balled fists and smashed them on top of the kitchen counter. Bits of shattered granite flew in all directions. Lucien took hold of the metal sink and ripped it free. He tossed it across the room. It crashed right through the wall and into the living room. The sound
was deafening.

  He risked a glance at Eve, hoping she’d be frightened, but still she revealed nothing. Maybe a hint of sadness. There was still one thing left he could do that would get results. The thought sickened him, but it had to be done. It was for her own good.

  Lucien pressed her hands to the wall and forced his lips upon hers, nearly crushing her. It was not a passionate kiss, but one made to intimidate and scare. He waited for her to push him away, knee him in the groin, anything! But when that response never came, he pushed even harder, needing her to not only fear him, but hate him, too.

  With surprising strength, she forced her arms away from his grip, but instead of decking him, she wrapped them around his neck and kissed him back just as fiercely.

  Lucien’s head spun, and he stumbled away, utterly and completely defeated.

  The silence in the room was crushing, devastating. He’d prefer death to this. He didn’t dare look at her, couldn’t bear to see the expression on her face.

  Eve slowly moved to the kitchen table in obvious pain. When she reached it, she collapsed into the only unscathed chair.

  Inwardly, Lucien moaned. What have I done?

  “Lucien,” Eve whispered. “I will never fear you.”

  He slumped to the floor, unable to speak, unable to think. He could feel her staring at him for what felt like an eternity. The weight of her gaze paralyzed him. How could she stand to look at him?

  “You must be hungry,” she finally said and stood carefully, her body swaying as if she were dizzy.

  “No, please,” he begged.

  She waited a moment before sitting back down, then asked, “Did you do anything fun while I was away?”

  The ridiculousness of the question made him look at her, something he regretted instantly. On the right side of her temple was a deep gash, a cut she must’ve sustained by one of the many fragments of debris that had been flying across the room, thanks to him. A granite shard most likely.

  Despite her injuries, Eve smiled kindly. He couldn’t return it. How could he? Instead, he stood, taking with him a dishtowel that had been fallen from its crushed drawer. In one swift motion, he gently scooped up Eve, and before she could take her next breath, he was upstairs in her room lying her down in bed.

  Lucien smoothed her hair back, trying not to react to the way she felt beneath his fingertips, and firmly pressed the towel to the bloodied wound on her head.

  “One day I will beg for your forgiveness,” he said.

  “I will never ask for it.”

  He knelt down by the side of her bed. “Don’t talk, just rest.”

  Eve eyes fluttered closed and soon her breathing became steady.

  Lucien watched her for a long time, memorizing every part of her face, the little details he hadn’t noticed before. Like the tiny freckle just above the right side of her lips or how her right eyebrow arched slightly higher than the other. His gaze wandered to her long, slender fingers. He reached out as if to touch them but stopped himself. That isn’t why he came here. He may not frighten her, but he sure as hell couldn’t get close to her.

  Instead, he sat near her, enjoying what little of her he could, while she slept. But after almost an hour, he grew worried. Maybe she was hurt worse than he thought. Time to take her to the hospital.

  With a lump in his throat, he leaned over to wake her but froze instead. The cut on her temple had entirely healed. Only dried blood remained stuck against her skin. How was that possible?

  He searched her face for an answer. She wasn’t a vampire, but she couldn’t be human either. Possibly a witch, but she was asleep, so couldn’t have performed a spell to heal herself. Regardless of what she was, he grew increasingly concerned when she didn’t wake up even after he tried to rouse her.

  “Eve?”

  Her eyes moved back and forth beneath her eyelids. Lucien lifted his hand to caress her cheek but hesitated. He’d never done something that tenderly before. Would he even know how?

  Slowly, as if she might crumble beneath his touch, he gently brushed her porcelain skin with his thumb. Air caught in his lungs when it tingled. He withdrew his hand, unable to find meaning in the strange phenomenon.

  Without touching her, he leaned in closer until his cheek almost touched hers. He kept his lips close, breathing softly in and out. She smelled of lilacs in the springtime. In a quiet voice, he said, “Wake up, Eve.”

  If he turned his head, even a little, his lips would touch her skin. His body yearned to do just that, but it was hardly the time. It would never be the time, he clarified in his mind and leaned away.

  Eve moaned, a pleasant sound that warmed Lucien’s blood. Her eyes opened.

  Lucien quickly retreated to the other side of the room where moonlight pouring in from the open window wouldn’t reach him. He did not want Eve to see him in the light.

  She spotted him in the shadows. “You’re still here.”

  “I wanted to make sure you would be okay.” Lucien involuntarily stepped toward the door. He shouldn’t be here.

  Eve sat up, her eyes widening. “Please, don’t go.”

  He placed his hand on the doorframe, secretly trying to keep his legs beneath him. “I don’t know who you are or how you found me, but you shouldn’t have.”

  “Stay with me, just for a little while.” Her eyes pooled with tears. “Please?”

  Lucien wanted answers, wanted to know who she was, but he couldn’t bring himself to remain in her presence any longer. “I’m sorry — for hurting you.”

  “You will hurt me more if you leave.”

  He clenched his jaw tight and glanced at Eve one last time. Before she could stop him, he disappeared.

  Chapter 12

  Lucien drove fast, ignoring any speed limits, through the scarce traffic of Seattle. The sun wasn’t up yet and wouldn’t be for another two hours. He twisted his fingers tightly around the steering wheel and pressed on the accelerator even more.

  Normally his mind was clear, but he couldn’t put a coherent thought together to save his life. He needed advice, and there was only one person he trusted to give it.

  Scott Peterson’s three-story colonial-style home didn’t fit in with the other affluent homes in the ritzy Laurelhurst neighborhood. It was white with tall pillars in front; on the second balcony hung a long, scooped American banner flag. This was another reason he liked Scott: he didn’t care about what others thought of him.

  Lucien was about to knock on the front door but stopped when he realized the early hour. He removed his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Scott’s number. From somewhere within the house, a phone rang.

  A groggy Scott answered. “Yes?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “No, in person.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes. I’m standing outside your front door.” Something crashed to the floor.

  “I’ll be right down.”

  It was only a short moment before Scott opened the door. He greeted Lucien in blue striped pajamas, hair that had been hastily smoothed back, and thick glasses. He pushed them further up his nose and said, “This is a surprise. Come in.”

  Scott led Lucien to a study and turned on a fire. It sputtered and spit until its flames entirely filled a wide stone hearth.

  “Would you like some tea?” Scott offered.

  “No.”

  Scott touched his head as if remembering. “Right. I forgot. What brings you here this late hour?”

  “I need advice.”

  Scott lowered himself into a chair near the fire. “Does this have anything to do with your questions about the Deific?”

  “Yes, specifically the woman, Eve Andrews. There’s something different about her.”

  “You think she’s different?”

  Lucien placed his hands upon the marble mantle and stared down into the fire. “I know that sounds crazy, but there’s something wrong with her.”

  “Why do you care?”

 
; Lucien flexed his jaw and shook his head slowly. He lowered his arms and turned around. “That’s what I’ve been asking myself. I can’t get her out of my head. She’s all I think about.”

  Scott eyed him thoughtfully. “You’re in love.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m incapable of love. Besides I don’t even know who she is.”

  “I was in love with my wife the moment I laid eyes on her. It was as if my soul recognized hers.”

  “Seeing as how I don’t have a soul, that’s not a consideration.”

  “How do you know you don’t?”

  Lucien frowned. “Must I remind you?”

  “If you don’t have a soul, why are you good?”

  Lucien visibly jerked. “I’m not good.”

  “Well, you’re not bad. I’ve put bad men behind bars for over thirty years. I know evil when I see it.”

  Lucien moved to the window and paced in front of it. Holding still wasn’t an option anymore. He had too much heated energy burning through him.

  “Have you spoken to the woman to see what she wants?” Scott asked.

  “She begged me to stay tonight. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t stand to be near her.”

  “Why?”

  “She was too intense.” He glanced back at him. “Does that make sense?”

  “No. Why are you making this so complicated?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. Up until a year ago, my life was predictable.”

  “What happened a year ago?”

  He shook his head, trying to think how best to explain what had happened. His gaze shifted to the fireplace. “A light came into my life, something I couldn’t see or touch, but I could feel it as sure as I can feel the heat from those flames. And it’s been growing.”

  Scott tilted his head. “It sounds like hope.”

  “But I don’t hope. There is no hope for someone like me.”

  “Apparently there is. Seize it, Lucien. Take hold and never let it go.”