by Rue Volley
"I had a good job,” the man continued. “But the medical bills have eaten me alive. Now I’m stealing and begging for every penny I can scratch out of the dirt.”
"I'm sure your meth addiction doesn't help." Hale was done with this. He grabbed the guy by the shirt collar and smashed the back of his head against the coin machine. The metal bent and quarters spilled out onto the ground around their feet. His body slumped backward and his limbs went limp. Warm blood leaked from his cracked skull. Hale smirked. At least the asshole had finally shut up.
Hale gave the man’s head a quick twist to the left and felt a sharp crack. He allowed the body to fall then squatted to twist the wedding band from his finger. Pinching it between thumb and forefinger, he whispered the words that would send it and the man’s soul to his master.
Without another thought for the dead man, Hale sauntered toward the bar. It was black as tar out here in the boonies. With the lights burned out, no one would notice the man’s body until dawn or later.
Surprisingly, the bar was hopping for such a nowhere locale. Several big rigs were parked off to one the side. An old truck, four cars, and a minivan were out front. A smile twisted his lips. New fodder to play with, excellent.
A demon's purpose is to bring chaos and destruction wherever he goes. Hale had no problem with that. As the door swung open, he inHaled the scent of beer, pretzels and a plethora of human emotion. Just below it, something else caught his attention. Something that was too good to be true and he'd only believe it when he saw it for himself.
Hale kept to the shadows as he made his way through the small bar’s crowd. Some college kids were playing pool. As he passed, he bumped shoulders with one of the tallest boys. The guy’s chipper mood suddenly became malevolent. It was like he didn’t even notice Hale though. Instead, he glared at one of his comrades and gave him a shove. What had been jovial teasing only moments before Hale’s arrival became demeaning and callous.
The boys shoved one another until finally the smaller one had enough. A girl screamed and a punch was thrown. Someone’s beer bottle shattered. The tall guy fell backward and landed on his butt. His hands cupped his nose as torrents of blood gushed past his fingers. The smaller guy grabbed his girlfriend and rushed out of the bar.
Hale’s spirits lifted as the negative energy this created fed into him and renewed his magical energies. Already the other patrons were being affected as well. Some were arguing in the corner about the price of drinks while the others were just tucked in over their beer seething over their bad day. Some sank into a deep depression. All were behaving as he wished.
Flipping his hood down, Hale sauntered over and parked himself at the bar. He watched his handiwork in the mirror behind the shelved bottles for a moment before muttering, “Where’s the bartender? I need a drink.”
The college boy with the broken nose stumbled past. He was drunk as shit and crying now. His girlfriend trailed after him, babbling incoherently while the other kids continued to push and shove one another in an argument. One of the truckers had pissed himself and a few of the barflies were laughing at him. Grabbing the crotch of his overalls, he hurried toward the bathroom. The haggy women laughed anew at his embarrassment.
“Fuck this.” Halehopped over the bar then grabbed a bottle ofFortaleza Blanco from the shelf. Next, he selected a chilled shot glass from the cooler beneath the bar. He splashed a little tequila inside then threw the first one back. A growl of unabashed pleasure rumbled up his throat.
Pouring himself another, he watched in satisfaction as another fight broke out next to the jukebox. Some guy who looked vaguely like Santa Claus on a three day meth bender slammed another dude against the glass and a crack ran down the middle of the glass front. Some shitty country song stuttered to life and caused an outcry amongst those who were just watching.
“What are you doing?” A woman’s voice accompanied by the rattle of bottles sounded behind him.
Hale downed the shot of tequila then glanced over his shoulder. The breath caught in his throat, accompanied by the after burn from the liquor. So this little scrap of a woman was what had set his alarm bells off?
She was one of the fallen. His kind's sworn enemy, for fuck's sake. They'd practically hunted the fallen to near extinction, just for sport and to keep them from interfering with demonic business in the mortal realm. Even though the fallen weren't angels anymore, they still took it upon themselves to step in and protect the mortals where demons are involved. They couldn't leave well enough alone and allow his kind to have fun with the chattel.
Really, he had no idea why they even bothered. They were beyond divine intervention. These inferior beings, these humans, scratched and wallowed in the dirt. They fornicated and fought with each other, they were simply beyond help.
The master had told him once that in the very early days, angels had tried to protect these miniscule beings. They tried to protect mankind from the greater evils like his master, higher demons and the devil. Angels had rained down from heaven like great winged birds with swords of fury, but in the end it all was for naught. Mankind had proven undeserving of that protection and they were left to continue scratching, wallowing and fornicating. This suited Hale just fine.
Something smacked his shoulder, bringing him back to the here and now. Angry blue eyes and flushed cheeks reminded him that he’d overstepped the boundaries in this woman’s bar.
She was nothing like he’d imagined the bartender of the Devil's Den to be. Instead of some burnt out barfly or a toothless hillbilly, she was gorgeous. She certainly didn’t belong in this small town or a dive bar. A pole perhaps or maybe his bed… Hale realized he was staring, but didn’t give two fucks.
Her heart-shaped face was turned toward him and her eyes were squinted in anger. They were the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Dark hair was pulled into a low ponytail, but several tendrils had escaped and hung around her face. This woman's frame was small, but she had curves in all the right places. The tight jeans she wore hugged her hips and showed just the top of her belly button. Her tank top was tight and her tits strained against the material. She didn't have big breasts like he normally liked, but he wouldn't complain about the full B's she was rocking. The push-up bra she wore was doing its job really well, thank you very much.
“Your kind isn’t welcome here.” She sat the box down hard, rattling the bottles and sending a swirl of dust up into the air.
He blinked. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”
She stood her ground. “You heard me. Get out of my bar."
"It's open to the public."
"I have the right to refuse service to anyone," she said as she leaned across the bar then yanked the bottle out of his hand. Her gaze never left his. "You're causing trouble."
Hale pursed his lips. "If I don't leave?"
Her fingers curled around a push dagger that was hidden in her waistband. The blade was twisted and appeared to be made of a mixture of copper and iron. "I'll make you."
"Yeah?" he gripped her wrist then hauled her over the bar until she was on the other side with him. Pulling her against his body, he shoved a thigh between her knees and gave her no room to maneuver. "How do you plan on doing that, little one?"
She attempted to stab at him anyway and ended up nicking his bicep and cutting her finger in the process. She hissed in pain as the dagger fell from her hand.
"Let go of me!" She pushed against his chest, leaving a crimson smear across his t-shirt.
This woman, this fallen angel, smelled divine. Her blood sang to his senses. Her flesh promised to not only be fragrant, but sweet. Her hair smelled faintly of vanilla and it made him want to bury his nose in it as he drove his cock deep within her.
Something must have flared within his eyes because the little angel gasped and tried to pull away. He held her tighter and took a handful of her hair in one hand. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open to protest. Before she could say anything, he turned to the rowdy bar behind him.
&n
bsp; "Get out!" he roared.
The crowd immediately dropped everything. People looked dazed as they shuffled out the door and into the packed dirt parking lot. He paid them little mind as he turned back to the woman he held captive.
He studied the hand she'd cut and found blood droplets were still trickling down her fingers. She tried to pull away again, but he shoved her against the bar. One of the stools fell over and she whimpered just a little. His blood was scalding hot right now, practically boiling beneath the skin. His cock strained against the zipper of his jeans, begging to be let out. Hale knew this pretty little play toy thought he was going to rape her. The fact was, he could, if he wanted to. But he preferred to play a different way. It was so much more fun to make them give it for free. To mind fuck them, and twist them around your fingers until they were useless little scraps of nothing. Until they had absolutely nothing left to offer. Use them up until they were completely useless, even to themselves.
Maintaining eye contact, he brought her hand to his lips. Hell, he wasn't even restraining her now. His tongue flicked out to taste the blood gathered on her fingertips before sucking them into his mouth. Her eyes fluttered shut as his tongue lashed at her skin. His gaze never left her face.
In just that brief taste, he knew so much about her.
Hale released her and took a step backward. Her eyes opened and she stumbled.
Using his forefinger, he tipped her chin up and smirked. "I'll be back for you, Cera."
He turned and within seconds was gone.
Chapter Three
Hale stepped over the steaming carcass he’d just disposed of. So what if he’d collected the soul a few days early? His master wouldn’t complain about an early payment. In fact, he’d be delighted. It was almost as if he was collecting interest.
Not only did the ugly bastard stink, but he was a notorious pedophile who liked to torture his victims with acid. Hell, he was actually doing this realm a favor by getting rid of Pedo Pete. Grimacing, Hale cast one last look at the gelatinous pile of liquefied flesh and bone that the man’s body had melted into before leaving Pete’s apartment in Austin. It had taken a while, but he’d finally managed to burn the bastard.
A little over two hours later, he found himself sitting outside the Devil’s Den. He’d ridden all over the place looking for marks, anxious to settle his master’s score. Only two remained on his arm now and he was thirsty as hell. It was well past last call and there was only one light on downstairs. Yeah, he needed a drink, but there was something else that had drawn him here. Something far more intoxicating than tequila or beer.
The door banged behind him to announce his presence. “Hello, fallen angel.”
Her head jerked up and her eyes widened. She was at least three or four steps away from the bar. Her gaze slanted in that direction and Hale understood she was calculating how quickly she’d be able to reach a weapon.
He stepped closer, capturing the wrist that held the broom. It fell from her fingers and sent a swirl of dust twirling across the floor. His other hand caught her waist. "I told you I’d be back.”
Cera attempted to jerk loose, but his grip was too tight. He yanked her against his body. “Do you like playing with danger, little girl?”
“Let me go!” she growled through clenched teeth.
If Hale wasn’t careful, he might throw her to the ground and have his fill of her—repeatedly. Her breasts were smashed flat against his chest as his arm tightened around her waist. Even through her thin shirt, he could feel her hard nipples grinding against his chest.
"I don’t think you want me to let you go, Cera.” He walked her backward toward the wall behind the bar. “In fact, I think you want me to do some very wicked things to you.”
She tried to push him away, but he held on too tightly. Her body shook in anger and maybe something more. Just for shits and gigs, he released her wrist and allowed her the tiniest bit of room to maneuver. That was a mistake, because her hip brushed against his swollen cock. He’d thought it couldn’t get any stiffer, but he’d been wrong.
“You’re such a pig.” Her cheeks were flushed and she looked a bit surprised.
“And what does that make you?” he asked with a smirk. “Heaven’s whore? Is that why you were kicked out? You fell in love.” He said the word as if it left a nasty taste in his mouth.
Cera’s body went rigid. She turned her face away, but he saw the hurt anger flash in her eyes.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
Her blue eyes were filled with unshed tears as she stared at his chest. Voice shaking, she said, “He lied. He said I tricked him, that I was tainted with immorality.”
“You fell in love with one of your angelic brethren, but he didn't feel the same way. You were punished, weren’t you?” Hale kissed her cheek, allowing her salty tears to moisten his lips.
She stood incredibly still and said nothing.
“They stripped you of your wings and threw you down here into the mortal coil. Nothing happened to your lover though, did it?” He pushed her against the wall just behind the bar. One of his thighs wedged between her knees. “Which I think is complete bullshit, by the way.”
“You saw that in my blood, didn’t you?” It wasn’t really a question.
"I did.” His tongue flicked out to taste her bottom lip. Hale wasn’t really holding her captive anymore. "Tell me how they took your wings, Cera. Did they tear them away with their bare hands or shear them with a sword?"
Fat tears rolled down her cheeks as her gaze met his. For a moment, he thought she wasn't going to say anything at all. When she did speak, he was deeply disappointed. "Please let me go."
Exercising less control than he should, Hale pressed his erection against her hip. Cera’s breath caught in her throat and her gaze swept upward toward his. He leaned dangerously close, allowing his breath to caress her ear. "I want you, Cera.”
Cera brought her hands up. Instead of shoving him backward, her fingers curled around the collar of his jacket. Her blue eyes blazed with an intense resolve. “Never going to happen, demon.”
Hale leaned in close until their lips were only inches from each other. “It will.”
"You'll have to kill me." Crooked like claws, Cera's fingers slashed at his throat and face.
He caught both wrists in one hand then pinned her arms over her head. Hale shoved her against the wall and smiled. "Fuck you, kill you, I'll do whatever I want with you, Cera. You're mine now."
Releasing her wrists, he gave her a hard look of warning. His hand trailed down the length of her arm, over her shoulder, and up the curve of her neck to cup her face. He wanted to shove her against the wall and have his way with her, but somehow he managed to control himself. Gently pushing her against the cool wall, he caged her with his arms. "Heaven's abandoned you."
Hale knew he was risking a lot getting this close to her. She could knee him or try to scratch his eyes out again. Right now, he didn’t care. Leaning forward, he kissed her lips. They were as soft and succulent as he’d dreamed they’d be—and there had been many dreams since the first time he’d wandered into the Devil’s Den. Every time he’d closed his eyes, she’d been there doing wicked, very un-angelic things to him.
Grasping a handful of her hair, he tipped her head back and claimed her mouth. The first kiss was tentative, but when her mouth opened to him, he took it as invitation. Fingers tangled in her silken hair while the other hand stroked fingers down the center of her chest. Cera’s breath caught and her hands tightened on the collar of his jacket.
“You don’t understand,” she whispered as she broke the kiss. “They’re watching.”
“Watching?” Hale asked with a raise of his brow. One of his hands slid over the curve of her breast then played with the edge of her t-shirt. His nimble fingers trailed beneath the fabric of her bra to tease her bare flesh. If they were watching, he’d damn well give them something to see.
Cera’s eyes fluttered shut and her cheeks were stained red. "I m
ust atone for my sins. There's still a chance…”
Hale drew back with a snarl and jerked her around to face the wall. He tore her thin t-shirt in half and allowed it to fall from her shoulders. Cera tried to scramble away from him but he pressed her against the wood panels. “They hacked your fucking wings off. Why would you want to go back to them and their fucked up world?”
She hung her head and the first few tears fell in silence as she braced herself against the wall. "It's all I know."
"Maybe it's time you learned something new." He traced a finger across one of the silvery white scars that marred her back. Hale realized he was scowling, that there was some kind of strange feeling bubbling beneath the surface of the carnal lust Cera had triggered within him. He tamped it down, preferring to remain hard and hollow. He had no time for sentiment or emotion. After all, he planned on killing the fallen one after he was done using her.
Cera flinched as if his touch had scalded the skin. Her head jerked up to stare at him over her shoulder. In answer, he smirked then lowered his mouth to the opposite scar. Dragging his tongue over the jagged flesh, he watched her face for a reaction.
She moaned and pressed her forehead against the wall. Her voice was a mere whisper. "Please."
Running a hand over her hip, Hale brushed his fingers beneath the hem of her skirt. As his hand slid downward, he leaned close and whispered in her ear. "Hale."
"What?"
"My name. I want you to remember it." His tongue danced over the scar on her right shoulder and he was rewarded with another shudder of pleasure. Scraping his teeth over her sensitive flesh, he wanted to lick, suck, and devour every part of her. Her little moans were almost too much for him to take so he moved his hand lower, needing to feel her warmth. His fingers dipped downward to brush against the seam of her sex. He found her slick with arousal.
Hale's balls clenched with need. As he moved his middle finger against Cera's clit, her ass pushed against his cock and left him in agony. Trying hard to distract himself from throwing her to the dusty floor and having his way with her, he slipped one long finger inside her channel. He groaned against her neck. "You're so wet and tight."
