His fingers twitched at his sides, the urge to call his blade to him and hunt her down growing stronger inside him, almost overwhelming him before he wrestled it back under control, tamping it down enough that he remained where he was.
His heavy white armour clanked with each rough stride that carried him across the grass.
He flexed his fingers again as his gaze settled on the rose garden, and his lips twisted in a cold smile as a hunger to go there and tear it all down surged through him. Images played across his mind, a vision of him ripping every rosebush from the ground, destroying that place Emelia held dear.
Because she wasn’t here.
She had to pay for that.
He caught himself as he pivoted towards the walled garden, froze as cold swept through him as he realised the path of his thoughts and how much pain it would cause Emelia if he followed that urge that beckoned him with promises of relief and retribution.
Retribution?
He had no reason to desire such a thing where Emelia was concerned.
She had done nothing wrong.
He growled again and shoved his fingers through his black hair, clawing it back with both hands. He clamped his palms down against his skull and squeezed as his growl turned pained, a hollow sound that bore every drop of the frustration and confusion welling up inside him.
What was wrong with him?
He had seen Emelia only yesterday. It should have been enough to calm him, to give him the focus he needed. But when he had teleported into Hell, the effect she had on him had instantly dissipated, replaced by degrees with other feelings.
Rage.
Despair.
A hunger to kill any who strayed into his path.
Wolf sank to his knees on the grass, breathing hard as he continued to fight those emotions, to overcome them and rein them in to regain control over himself.
That urge had only grown in strength as he had scouted the dragon realm, charting several small villages nestled among valleys surrounded by high, dangerous black peaks. Several caves had been visible, opening on ledges high on the sides of the mountains. He had wanted to investigate them, but had managed to focus on taking stock of the entire area, aware that landing at the entrance of what was likely the home of a dragon might be seen as an act of aggression.
Although, apparently, entering one of the villages to politely inquire about any green dragons was an act of aggression too. The dragons had turned on him, and he had been forced to teleport to avoid a fight he knew he would lose. It had been difficult, a struggle when he had wanted to fight, had craved the violence the dragons had promised as they had closed in on him. For a brief moment, he had imagined the battle, and had found it glorious.
He still found it glorious.
He had left Hell three hours ago, but still the effects lingered, had him close to losing himself to the dark needs that burned in his veins.
Hunt. Kill. Destroy.
He could return to Hell and fulfil those needs.
Or he could venture somewhere else, somewhere less dangerous, where he would be strong enough to win any fights he started.
He slowly turned his head, his eyes unerringly fixing in the direction of a place where he could sate those needs.
A fae town.
He was swift to lose himself in the images that built in his mind, a glorious vision of mayhem and destruction, blood-soaked and beautiful. How many demons lived in a fae town? One hundred? Two hundred?
A shiver wracked him at the thought of slaying two hundred demons, a ripple of pleasure chasing down his spine that had him pushing to his feet and spreading his wings, aching with a need to fulfil that vision.
He paused as he twisted towards the fae town.
His eyes dropped to his left wing.
To the tiny cluster of black feathers nestled close to his side.
A sign he had been sinning.
He didn’t recall committing a sin.
Was Hell corrupting him to the point where he was in danger of falling?
His strength bled from him as the answer to that question hit him, rocking his world on its axis.
Yes.
It was slowly but surely destroying him.
His mood was testament to that. The black needs and darkness he could normally keep under control were slipping their leash more often, and during his last trip to Hell, he had come close to fighting everyone who had failed to provide him with useful information. He had wanted to kill them.
Those dark urges weren’t born of the fact he felt he wasn’t making progress with his mission to avenge Emelia.
They were born of the fact Hell was tainting him.
Turning him.
“Wolf?” Emelia’s soft voice cut into his thoughts, and he whirled to face her, shock tearing through him as he found her standing close to him.
He hadn’t sensed her.
Her eyes dropped to his left wing.
He quickly furled it against his back, but the sorrow that danced across her delicate features said he had been too late.
She had seen his black feathers.
“What do they mean?” she whispered, her eyes leaping up to meet his before they darted back to his wing.
“Nothing,” he bit out more harshly than intended, and she flinched away, recoiling from him.
He growled and reached for her, wanting to pull her back to him, needing her close because she was already calming him, soothing the sharper edges of his temper.
She curled into herself, closing her leather jacket over her loose black T-shirt and frowning at him. “It’s because you keep going to Hell, isn’t it? You know what sort of angel has black wings? A fallen one.”
“That is not happening to me.” He tried to say it with conviction, but the look she gave him said she had seen the doubts and fears he held locked within his heart.
“It is.” She shook her head, her dark eyebrows furrowing as she looked up at him. “I don’t want this, Wolf. I don’t want you to ruin your life. It isn’t worth it!”
She meant that. He could read it in her. She honestly believed what he was doing wasn’t worth it. If he found the dragon and killed him, wouldn’t she be happy?
Of course she would be happy. So why was she denying him, trying to make out that what he was doing was pointless, a waste of both their times, when he knew it would please her?
His mood darkened, and he couldn’t stop his voice from darkening with it. “I think it is. I think you are worth it.”
Her expression shifted, delicate features softening as the anger he had sensed in her faded, giving way to emotions that put sorrow back in her eyes.
She solemnly shook her head, her green eyes pleading him as she lowered her arms to her side and took a step towards him. “Never go there again. Let it go.”
He stared at her in silence, the darkness inside him writhing like a living being as he considered what she was asking, growing stronger with each passing second.
“I cannot,” he husked and curled his fingers into tight fists beside his hips. “What that bastard did to you is unforgivable. I will not rest until I have punished him for it… until he is dead, Emelia. I will do this for you… I must.”
Because the alternative was just as unacceptable as the fact the dragon was still breathing.
She lowered her head and whispered, “It won’t change what happened. It won’t take it away.”
“I know.” His right hand itched at his side, the need to lift it and cup her pale cheek, to comfort her so powerful that it was difficult to deny it, even when he was aware his touch would frighten her. “I wish I could do that for you, but your mind is too strong… your memories too painful.”
She slowly raised her head and her eyes locked with his again, the emotions that swam in them mingling together to make them unreadable. “You want to make them go away for me?”
He nodded.
“Maybe there is a way… no… never mind.” An emotion he could decipher danced across her eyes
.
Fear.
What was it she was considering that had her suddenly afraid?
“Tell me the way, Emelia.” He forced himself to remain where he was, even when the need to step closer to her drove him to surrender to it. “I would do anything to help you. Whatever it takes.”
“Whatever it takes?” She searched his eyes and he nodded again.
Shock flashed through him when she suddenly took hold of his right hand, followed by a surge of heat that set his blood on fire. A thousand desires sprang to life inside him, clamouring to be the one he gave in to, but he held them all in check.
Because she was trembling.
Her hand shook against his as she slowly raised it, bringing his up with hers, and he tensed as she brought it to her face. His breath hitched in his throat, lungs squeezing tight and heart hammering a fast beat against his breast as she gently unfurled his fingers and placed his palm against her cheek.
Wolf stilled.
He could feel how difficult this was for her, could see it in her eyes as the fear he had sensed in her collided with panic and her shaking worsened.
The emotions colouring her eyes had them shifting, though, her pupils dilating to devour the rich green of her irises as she leaned into his touch.
The heat that stirred in him blazed into an inferno, had him aching to brush his palm across her cheek and feel the softness of it, the warmth that turned it a pretty shade of rose.
When she calmed, her emotions levelling out, he risked it.
Smoothed his palm against her cheek.
Her eyes slipped shut.
Shot wide open as her panic spiked right back up.
She hurled his hand away from her and stumbled back a step, her breathing laboured and eyes wild as she stared at him.
“I would never hurt you, Emelia,” he whispered, meaning every word, feeling the strength of them in his heart. To hurt her would be to hurt himself. “Never.”
She looked as if she needed to believe that, wanted to believe it, but couldn’t.
Because of the dragon.
His mood blackened in an instant, the air around him darkening and chilling as rage roared to the fore, the need to destroy the dragon blazing so fiercely in his blood that he couldn’t contain it. He growled and focused on his hand as he imagined killing the male. A slow death. He would make the bastard suffer for what he had done to Emelia. He would draw out the pain, would torment him, let him heal his wounds only to inflict new ones. He would take pleasure in watching the male bleed, in seeing his fear as he begged for mercy only to be offered none.
He would tear the male to pieces, from the inside out, breaking his mind before he broke his body.
He sank into the darkness that swirled around him, chilled his insides and clouded his mind.
His sword materialised in his hand and he gripped it hard, a smile stretching his lips as he shifted his focus to Hell.
He snarled as shadows wrapped around him, climbing his limbs like vines, and spread his wings as he surrendered to the hunger for violence, bloodshed and death that called to him.
He would find the dragon and he would kill it.
Soft warmth pressed against his cold cheeks and light shone before him, so bright it blinded him.
“Let it go!” A voice reached through the darkness, drove it back as it struggled to keep its hold on him, the tendrils of shadow desperately trying to twine around his armour.
A face materialised, the most beautiful he had ever beheld, her eyes swimming with concern and warmer emotions, ones that tugged at his heart and pulled it up from the black abyss.
“Wolf,” she whispered, a name that meant something to him.
His name.
“Let it go.”
He looked down at the shadows, at the darkness that still clung to him and was trying to twine around her now.
No.
He couldn’t let it touch her.
He lifted his eyes to meet hers and fell into them. He would never let the darkness reach her. She was his light.
The air around him warmed and he warmed too as he realised she was touching him, her small hands framing his face, steady against him. No panic touched her features now. Only fear. Not fear of him, but fear for him.
“Emelia,” he croaked, aware of how close he had been to the abyss, that the darkness had almost pulled him under this time.
He didn’t need to look to know there were more black feathers in his wings. He could feel the corruption, a black stain on his soul that would never be erased, would only continue to fester and spread until he completed his mission.
Only killing the dragon could free him from the darkness now.
He stared down into Emelia’s green eyes, memorising every paler fleck in them, and all the feelings they revealed to him as the darkness surrounding them both faded. There was love in her eyes, and it stole his breath.
The need to kiss her was strong, almost overwhelming, but he somehow managed to hold it back, to remain where he was, savouring the feel of her hands on him and all the feelings she was showing to him.
She wasn’t ready for him to kiss her. Not yet. This was only another step forwards by her, but it was an important one. He could see how it affected her as she gazed at her hands, seeming surprised by how easily she touched him now and that it hadn’t shaken her.
His focus lowered to her lips, his mind fixing on what they would feel like against his. Soft. Yielding to his. Intoxicating. Just the thought of kissing her was a drug that had him hazy, hot all over and losing awareness of anything but her.
He needed to do something to unleash all the energy boiling inside him, the raw hunger and need, or he was going to surrender to that ache to kiss her, even when he knew it would only drive her away.
Something made an abrupt jangling noise.
His gaze whipped towards the source of it.
A pale blue bag sat on the grass a short distance away.
“Crap,” Emelia muttered and hurried over to it, unzipped it and fished out a phone.
She glared at the screen.
“What is wrong?” He inched closer to her as she glanced at him and then returned her gaze to the phone.
Her fingers danced over the screen that highlighted her face and the furrow in her brow. She shook her head, but he could feel she was drawing away from him. Whatever message she had received, it had rattled her.
“Emelia, what is it?” He ventured another step closer and she finally looked at him.
“My superior. He wants me to come in for a meeting.” She huffed and scrubbed a hand over her face, suddenly looking tired. “I was just in London, dammit. He couldn’t message me then?”
What had Emelia been doing in London?
He pushed his curiosity aside and tried to get a look at the screen of her phone. She pressed a button and it went dark before he could read the message she had received. He only caught the name.
Mark.
She pocketed her phone and loosed a long sigh. “I should go.”
“You should rest,” he countered but she wasn’t paying attention, was too busy gathering her things and looking for something else on the grass.
He spotted what she wanted and was tempted to hide them, but no good would come of that. If her superior was anything like his, she would get into trouble for ignoring the summons. As much as he wanted to spend more time with her, he couldn’t be so callous. He wouldn’t enjoy the time with her anyway, not if she was fretting about missing the meeting.
So he stooped and picked up the keys that lay discarded on the lawn a few feet from her bag.
He held them out to her and she hit him with a dazzling smile.
“Thanks.” Her fingers brushed his as she took the keys and she stilled, her skin lingering against his as her eyes slowly lifted to meet his again.
That need to kiss her stirred inside him, growing stronger again, rousing other desires, ones that had him thankful he was wearing his armour so she couldn’t see the
effect she had on him.
“I should go,” she whispered, voice as distant as the world around him as he stared down into her eyes.
She didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to go either.
But she had to, and so did he.
Because if he stayed here any longer, he would end up kissing her.
CHAPTER 20
Emelia couldn’t get her mind off Wolf. She had felt sure he was going to kiss her, and some secret part of her had been willing him to do it, even when the rest of her had screamed they were going too fast again.
But then he had bid her goodnight and had teleported out of her life, leaving her standing on the lawn aching for his kiss.
Would his kiss be gentle, a bare brush of his lips over hers that would send thrill after thrill chasing through her?
Or would his kiss be firm, a hard meeting of mouths that would ignite her blood?
She lost track of her surroundings as she imagined a mixture of both, a gentle exploration that would lead to a hard kiss that would have her toes curling in her boots.
She marvelled at how she felt only a deep ache in her belly at the thought of that happening, at how badly she wanted him to come to her right now and kiss her. It didn’t frighten her now, although the thought of him taking that next step had panicked her at the time. Now she wanted it. Needed it with a ferocity that startled her.
Someone cleared their throat.
She zoned back into the world and offered Mark an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I was in London last night and had only just got back to Cambridge when you messaged me.”
“Unwinding with friends?” He offered a smile that reached his grey eyes as he leaned his backside against the large oak desk in the centre of his office.
She nodded. “I have to admit the time off has done me good.”
“You look better for it.” Mark folded his arms across his chest, causing his dark grey tailored suit to tighten across his shoulders and biceps, and then uncrossed them and planted his hands against the desk on either side of his hips. “If you’re not ready to come back to work yet, that’s fine. I just wanted to speak with you about a matter I think you’ll be pleased to hear about.”
Avenged by an Angel Page 18
