Nemesis: Paranormal Angel Romance (Realm of Flame and Shadow Book 2)

by Christina Phillips

  Azrael

  Finally, Rowan looked at him, her eyes dark with a passion he couldn’t mistake. Or was this another trick of hers, an attempt to fool him once again? The way she’d fooled him for the last two weeks?

  Curse the gods. He knew what she was. What she had done. And he still couldn’t trust his own judgement when it came to her.

  He had to break free from her dark enchantment. The future of humanity was at stake.

  “Archangel.” Her voice was unbearably husky. A mockery of every sexy, evocative whisper she’d ever shared with him. “I despise you.”

  Not nearly as much as he despised himself. “The feeling is mutual.”

  She hooked her ankles together, crushing their bodies even closer. He slid his hand over her delectable ass, the skin smooth and silken and deliciously curved. Her breath teased his jaw, a delicate echo of something that had never existed, and his searching fingers delved between her spread thighs.

  The sensation was exquisite. It was an agony. Sex had never been so fucking messed up before. Her back arched, propelling her forward and he matched her frenzied thrusts, no longer caring that she knew how desperately he needed this.

  Needed her.

  The thought whipped through his mind, insubstantial, unimportant. All that mattered was this wild, savage coupling and the primal imperative to possess and conquer. The harsh gasps of arousal and the glazed expression in her bewitching eyes enslaved him, as the last tattered remnants of his control disintegrated.

  With a guttural roar he pumped into her. Hard, furious, uninhibited. His seed filled her and despite having done this countless times in the past, it was exhilarating, astonishing. Because it was the first time he’d come, unprotected, inside Rowan.

  Panting, he rested his forehead against hers, relishing the shudders that rocked her body and quivered through her as climax claimed her.

  But as his frenzied heartbeat slowed, and frantic breathing calmed, the memories crawled back into his mind. And with them came crippling self-disgust at his weakness when it came to her.

  He ignored the insidious whisper to remain where he was, to savor the aftermath. One last fuck was all he’d wanted. That didn’t include feigned tenderness or insincere affection. Gritting his teeth against the inexplicable urge to ignore this sordid reality, he pulled out of her, and the air was frigid after the wet heat of her body.

  She loosened her grip around his hips and staggered as her boots hit the floor. He freed her wrists and she slid to an inelegant heap at his feet.

  It was where she belonged.

  He shoved his semi-aroused cock back into his pants. He’d taken what he’d wanted from Rowan. She was no use to him now. But instead of liquefying her brain or breaking her neck he continued to glare at her, mesmerized.

  She shuffled back until she hit the wall, her hair disheveled, looking vulnerable and fragile.

  Looking as if she had just been unforgivably used.

  He fisted his hands. She had been used. The way she had used him. They were even, and all that remained was for him to eliminate her for having dared to cross him.

  Their gazes clashed. There was no hint of fear in her eyes at her impending fate. Only a faint, unmistakable glimmer of contempt.

  Did she have no intention of begging for her life, of attempting to engage his nonexistent sympathy?

  “Goodbye, dhampir.” His voice was cold, at odds with the inferno blazing through his chest and scorching his blood. She didn’t move and when he invaded her with a brutal telepathic blast, a fleeting expression of shock crossed her face before she slumped to the floor.

  He exhaled a measured breath and with great difficulty tore his gaze from her. He’d intended to kill her. He should have killed her. But all he’d done was knock her out.

  Even now, she corrupted his reason.

  With a savage curse in the language of the ancients he crouched and shoved her scattered belongings back into her bag, pausing only to search her wallet. It contained a birth certificate in the name of Abigail Smith. One of her aliases? His jaw tensed.

  He slung the bag over his shoulder before picking up the phial from the bed and placing it into his shirt pocket. Then he turned back to her.

  If he couldn’t destroy her, a fitting punishment would be to wipe her mind and dump her some place where she’d be found by a member of the Enclave. He bent down and scooped her into his arms. For a moment he stared, entranced, at her face. She looked so damned innocent. So damned human.

  He was still ensnared by her. The sooner he got rid of her the better.

  He’d drop her outside the Enclave’s HQ in Grosvenor Square. He’d never have to see her again. She would have no idea what had happened, and the members of the Enclave would never imagine that he, an archangel, had returned their spy to them.

  But he made no move to wipe her memories. Even unconscious she emanated a lethal lure from her damned DNA. It was outrageous that a vampire could create something that could screw with his senses and yet the evidence was in his arms.

  Destroy her now. The demand hammered through his brain, but he was powerless to move. He’d once called her an enchantress, but he’d never imagined how close to the twisted truth he’d been.

  The doorknob twisted, a slow, stealthy maneuver, and it smashed him back to the present. Were Rowan’s accomplices at the door, ready to investigate why she hadn’t yet completed her mission?

  It saved him a trip to Grosvenor Square. He’d leave her here for them to find. What fate awaited a dhampir who had failed her master’s orders?

  Not my problem.

  The doorknob twisted back. They’d obviously expected it to be unlocked. Unwilling, he once again swept his gaze over Rowan’s face.

  There was no line in the sand and he and a dhampir would never be on the same side even if there was. Yet the compulsion to protect her from the wrath of Sakarbaal polluted his reason. As though, despite everything, the line had been drawn millennia ago and he and Rowan stood against the rest of the world.

  It reeked of madness. He knew it. Could taste it.

  Leave her on the fucking bed.

  Instinctively, his grip tightened. A faint click echoed through the room, as the lock was picked.

  Don’t do it.

  But he ignored the voice of reason, because there was no way he’d leave her behind to be found by Sakarbaal’s minions.

  As the door inched open, he teleported, with Rowan still in his arms. To an uncivilized planet hidden in a backwater of Andromeda III.

  Chapter 23

  Rowan

  Rowan stirred, but the pounding in her brain didn’t ease. She forced open one eye. A pale glow illuminated the room, which had massive sofas arranged around a long, low, coffee table. She blinked, trying to clear her vision. Wherever she was, it definitely wasn’t the bedroom at the inn. Gingerly she sat up and the world lurched.

  Had Azrael knocked her out? She didn’t remember him hitting her. In any case, although her head hurt like hell, it was all internal.

  Psychic.

  A shiver chased over her arms at the implications. The important thing was she was still alive.

  Directly ahead, through vast glass doors, a breathtaking panorama of mountains was backlit by the rising sun. The sky was a delicate, rose pink and the scene was so beautiful, so tranquil, that she simply gazed, transfixed.

  She wasn’t in London anymore. Where had he taken her? How long had she been unconscious?

  Her bag was at the end of the sofa and she dragged it towards her. It didn’t look like anything was missing, although she was sure he’d gone through everything. She found her phone and peered at the time.

  She’d been out of it for less than two hours. How far could an archangel go in two hours? Had he flown?

  Her mind flooded with the image of his incredible wings. She’d never imagined anything could be so hauntingly exquisite. Had he really taken her in his arms and soared into the heavens? Had she really been carried by the wings
of an archangel?

  Regret squeezed her heart that she couldn’t remember any of it.

  Get real. Why would she want to? He’d knocked her out and abducted her.

  Focus. It didn’t matter how she’d got here. What mattered was finding out where here was.

  Although her phone appeared to be unharmed, the GPS was dead. Frustrated, she glanced through the wall of glass to the magnificent mountains and tried to place them. Maybe this was his own private island. If so, it was unlikely any inhabitants would be willing to help her get back to civilization.

  But that was a secondary problem. First, she had to escape from Azrael himself.

  For a treacherous second his smile filled her mind, before she sucked in a sharp breath and pushed the image aside. It was nothing but a lie. Their time together had meant nothing to him.

  How wrong she’d been about everything.

  Be careful what you wish for.

  So many times she’d dreamed of making love with him without using any protection. Well, love had nothing to do with it, but the sex had been mind-blowing. But unlike her foolish dreams, it had been the final death knell.

  Slinging her bag over her shoulder she pushed herself from the sofa and gritted her teeth against the pain that rolled through her skull like a noxious wave. At least she didn’t have to worry about pregnancy. Dhampirs were sterile. Until now that fact had always gnawed into her soul. The knowledge that it was one more thing that set her apart. One more thing she’d never be able to experience.

  But now—now she was glad. Relieved. Because she was getting out of this and she was going to start a new life. And the last thing she needed was the fear of conceiving Azrael’s offspring.

  What chance would a child with such a crazy mixed up heritage have?

  Unbidden, the image of a black-haired baby floated through her mind. Dark eyes, flecked with gold, gazed up at her in total trust. Innocence, in a world of foul corruption.

  It will never happen. And now wasn’t the time to mourn for a future that had never had a chance of existing. Now was the time to focus on survival.

  She made her way across the waxed timber floor to the open plan kitchen. The entire place seemed to be open plan, with a wide veranda that wrapped around the property. Only one room at the far end had a door, and even that was flung open as if Azrael had no issues with privacy.

  Heart pounding in tandem with her head, she edged inside. It was his bedroom, a magnificent chamber decorated in gold and black, with a vibrant tapestry on one wall and luxurious furnishings that complemented the massive bed. Clearly here was an archangel who appreciated the finer things in life.

  Had he really left her alone? It was a tempting notion but how likely was it? She crossed the huge room and entered an equally spacious bathroom. Well, wherever he was she was going to take advantage of the reprieve and scrub her body clean of his touch, his scent.

  It was a shame she couldn’t do the same thing to her heart.

  She emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, dressed in jeans and tee-shirt that she’d packed in her bag the previous day. Her plans to escape the Enclave and start a new life as Abigail Smith had suffered a setback, but until Azrael terminated her, she still had a chance.

  Why hasn’t he killed me already?

  It wasn’t because he harbored any feelings for her. She couldn’t afford to indulge that fantasy for even a second. The only reason she was still alive was because he had other plans for her. And none of them involved a happily ever after.

  She had to be prepared, if her escape failed. If by some twist of fate she ended up back at the Enclave, she had a perfect excuse for failing in her mission. Azrael had discovered who she really was and abducted her. While Sakarbaal might not consider that a good enough reason and destroy her anyway, there was always the possibility she could get away with it.

  The only problem was if the Enclave probed into her private financial affairs and discovered she’d cleaned out her bank accounts yesterday in preparation for her new life. That would be hard to explain away.

  So would the six months’ supply of amber acid she’d stashed in her car. And that was another reason why she needed to get back to London as soon as possible. It was one thing taking off under her assumed name, but she wouldn’t last long without her meds.

  She paused in the center of his bedroom and absorbed the silence of the dwelling. There was no trace of vampires in the air. And although he’d been able to approach her without her being aware of it, she was certain he wasn’t around.

  Slowly she pivoted on her boot heels and looked at a wide door next to the wall tapestry. It probably led to a dressing room. She had no interest in seeing his wardrobe and yet she made her way towards it.

  For a moment she hesitated, but the compulsion to push open the door hammered through her blood. It wasn’t locked and swung open with ease.

  Mesmerized, she stared at the treasures before her. Beautiful, deadly weapons lined the walls. But this was no blockbuster movie gun cache. Azrael’s collection showcased antique swords and daggers from long dead civilizations, but they looked in pristine condition. Fascinated she moved closer and ran the tip of her finger over the blade of a sword whose origin she didn’t recognize.

  Finally, she’d got a break. With weapons, she stood a chance of defending herself against whoever guarded his retreat. Swiftly she weighed up her options and ended up taking a hunting knife and a rondel dagger that would have done a knight proud in the Middle Ages. And then she went over to the glittering crown jewel. An elegant katana displayed on the far wall.

  Awe feathered along her spine as she picked it up. Katanas were her weapon of choice and this one was a beauty. It was almost like a lucky sign.

  Back in his kitchen she raided his cupboards but found nothing edible. The only bottles he appeared to have were filled with a colorless liquid she assumed was some kind of archangelic alcohol.

  Tough. With perverse pleasure she emptied the lot down the sink, before filling them with water and wedging them in her bag.

  She pulled out her phone and checked the time. Twenty minutes had passed since she’d first woken up. It was time to leave.

  There were no guards.

  And he hadn’t taken her to Europe. Not only was the timing all wrong for sunrise, but it was far too hot for the middle of March, although it was an oddly comforting heat with a welcome breeze. The profuse birdlife was brightly colored with breathtaking plumage, but she didn’t recognize any of the species.

  She didn’t recognize any of the plant life, either.

  Azrael obviously had a technologically advanced method of transportation. It wasn’t anything to worry about. Maybe he’d taken her as far as Australia.

  It still didn’t explain why she couldn’t pick up a satellite signal.

  Except this didn’t look anything like Australia. It didn’t look like anything on Earth at all, but rather a magnificent fantasy landscape where everything was more vibrant, extraordinary and enchanting.

  Or maybe she was suffering delusions from the aftereffects of abduction and lack of food. She glanced over her shoulder. The villa she’d just left was halfway up a mountain, which gave it spectacular views of the surrounding area, including the lush valley below. As far as she could see there were no paths beating a track to the front door. It looked like nothing had been disturbed for decades—centuries, even.

  No matter how carefully she wound her way through the wild tangle of greenery, she might just as well leave signs on the trees for him to follow. She needed to find a river to throw him off her trail.

  But first she needed to decide what direction to take. She checked her phone compass and frowned at the magnetic interference. Something was wrong. It was pointing due west, but she was heading in the direction of the rising sun.

  Frustrated, she shoved her phone back in her pocket and drew the katana. It was sacrilege, but she’d use it to plow her way through and make her journey easier. Let him think she was cl
ueless. A couple of hours later, she finally hit a river and she waded in and then turned and faced the way she’d come.

  With a bit of luck, the archangel would assume she’d kept on going in the same direction. It might buy her a bit more time.

  Night came unusually early. She refused to consider what that might mean and concentrated on finishing her meal. While she’d learned the basics of hunting and trapping, life in London as a vampire slayer and assassin hadn’t exactly honed her skills in that direction. Still, she’d finally caught something and although she wasn’t sure what exactly it was, at least after she’d cooked it on her smokeless campfire it was edible.

  It wasn’t cold but shivers wracked her body, a prelude of the night to come. She finished another bottle of water and tried to ignore the slow burn in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with the food she’d just eaten.

  Seven years ago, it had taken two days before the chills had started, and another thirty-six hours before the acidic flames had eaten her gut. This time the withdrawal symptoms had started mere hours after she should have taken her last shot of amber acid.

  She hugged her knees, her back wedged against a cluster of rocks that provided some shelter from the unknown. She’d been so sure she had at least a couple of days before her body began to fall apart. But what did it matter? Did she really think she’d find a way off this fantasy paradise? She’d walked non-stop and had found no trace of human life. What were the chances that, beyond the next mountain, she’d come across civilization?

  But what other choice did she have? Crawl back to Azrael and submit to whatever perverse future he had in mind for her?

  Shadows lengthened, darkened, then contracted and became more defined. Something was inherently wrong with the night and shivers of presentiment scudded over her arms. With a sense of dread inevitability, she looked up at the star-studded night sky. She didn’t recognize any of the constellations but that was no surprise. Because dominating the clear, pollution free heavens were a pair of huge, luminous moons.