Her Avenging Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 7)

by Felicity Heaton

  He groaned and banged the back of his head against the wall.

  She placed her hand behind his head to cushion it and stop him, and kissed down his neck.

  “I’m not forcing you… but if you want to feed, you can… just a sip.” She nicked his throat with her fang and licked the bead of blood that blossomed there. “It only takes a sip to strengthen our connection. See?”

  She wrapped her lips around the cut and gently sucked it, drawing a small amount from him. He shuddered and groaned, his hips thrusting frantically, driving him into her and sending tingly shivers blasting through her. Their connection deepened, growing stronger. It was in their blood. It had to be. She had never been sure how she was linked to him but she was now. They were connected through blood. It was the reason their bond grew stronger when she drank from his vein.

  “Lysia,” he whispered and clutched her closer. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She smiled against his throat, sensing the fear locked deep within his heart, glad that she could chase this one away for him, and the one he refused to voice.

  “It will feel good to me. You won’t spoil me with your bite, Nevar… you could never spoil me. I don’t care what you did in the past… what is happening between us is different. I want you to bite me… I want to make you stronger.”

  He groaned and pushed her back, away from his throat, and stared deep into her eyes. The myriad of emotions colliding in his made her stop moving on him and she cupped his cheeks in her palms. Her powerful warrior. He looked as if he was breaking inside. Why?

  “I don’t deserve this.” Those four words brought pain to the surface of his violet eyes and she shook her head to deny him.

  “I told you before. There has never been anyone more worthy of me than you, Nevar.”

  He closed his eyes and she cursed him. She wasn’t going to let him argue with her about this. He wanted to bite her and feed from her vein, and wanted to strengthen the connection between them. She wanted him to bite her and wanted to make him stronger.

  She wasn’t above using devious tactics to lure him into surrendering to her either.

  Lysia ran her hands upwards, over his cheekbones, and into his mussed silver-white hair. He frowned at her and opened his mouth as if to speak.

  It snapped shut on a groan as she feathered her fingertips over the two small horns protruding from just above his ears.

  When she stroked them harder, he grunted, growled, grabbed her hips and slammed into her, tearing a gasp from her.

  “Give me what I want,” she husked and his violet eyes shot open, zeroing in on hers. His firm lips parted to reveal his long fangs. She moaned and rocked on him, slowly rising off his length before shoving back down and taking him as deep as he could go. “Take what you want.”

  His violet gaze leaped to her throat and the cave swept past her in a blur as he twisted with her, taking her down onto the padded cushion, and she cried out as he sank his fangs into her throat. Exquisite pain arced down her shoulder and up over her head as his teeth sank deeper. He grasped her left shoulder in one hand and her hip in the other and drove home, thrusting wildly as he sucked down the first mouthful of her blood.

  Lysia threw her head back and moaned as she surrendered to him, hazy bliss running through her veins and threatening to take her far out of her mind. Out of her body.

  She tunnelled her fingers into his hair and held on to him as he drank from her, each pull on her blood sending fire shooting through her body that collided with the heat swirling in her tightening belly. She wriggled frantically, clenching him as he thrust into her, aching with a fierce need to find release before she completely lost her mind.

  He drew another mouthful of her blood that had her feeling as if it was all rushing through her veins to him and plunged into her, bringing their bodies back into contact, and she cried out as the tight knot in her stomach unravelled, sending heat flashing through her and her thighs tingling and quivering. Her core clenched him, the hot shivers rushing outwards from it as she trembled around him.

  He grunted into her neck and grasped her hip, digging his claws in, and thrust home. His cock throbbed, each pulse discordant to the quivering of her body, his hot seed flowing into her. He pulled his fangs from her throat and lapped at the wound, breathing hard against her moist skin.

  Lysia trembled from head to toe, feeling as if she was floating as bliss danced through her veins and the connection between her and Nevar grew stronger.

  He settled on top of her, kissing her throat and murmuring quiet things to her in the demon tongue, words she understood because she felt them in her heart too. What he felt was more than the result of their bond with each other. It ran deeper in his veins than blood. It consumed all of him as it consumed her and neither of them could live without it now.

  Neither of them could live without the other.

  Somehow, he had become a part of her, as vital as the organ thundering against her breast, trying to break free and leap to him, and she knew that she had become vital to him too.

  Lysia stroked his sweat-slicked back, her fingers trembling as much as he was beneath their touch, and cradled him to her, her gaze on the ceiling but her sight turned inwards towards her heart and the feelings growing inside it.

  Feelings she had never experienced before.

  One question echoed in her mind. One question she wasn’t brave enough to voice and hear his answer.

  Was this love?

  CHAPTER 21

  Lysia kissed down Nevar’s spine as he lay on his front on the dark padded mat in the cave, his handsome face softened in sleep. She stroked the tangled threads of his white-silver hair from his brow and studied his face, absorbing his masculine beauty. She hadn’t been able to sleep. The nightmares had returned and she had awoken in a cold sweat, afraid that the angels would find them and take her while she was vulnerable.

  With her other hand, she caressed the marks he had placed on her throat, and looked at the ones she had placed on his. They had exchanged blood after making love and she had told him her theory about their bond. He had agreed with her and also believed that their connection was somehow in their blood, and they were more than master and servant. He thought that they were more like partners, two halves of one whole, each tempering the other. She liked that theory, and the way he had looked at her as he had said it, with something akin to affection in his green eyes.

  She leaned over him again and traced the intricate swirls of the wings inked onto his back.

  They were large, covering both of his shoulders, including the vertical twin ridges of scar tissue where his wings hid. She could feel the magic in them, laced with great sorrow and regret. The two emotions were Nevar’s, carried on his back for eternity, woven into the spell. He hated himself for what he had done to the witch who had given him this spell.

  Lysia wished she could ease that pain for him, but all she could do was stand by his side and slowly show him that he was still the good man he wanted to be. He just couldn’t see it right now. He was too close to the events that had turned him against himself, his eyes clouded by the things he had done. It would change in time, the dark haze clearing to reveal that era of his life was over and he was stronger now. It would never happen again.

  He had come through the darkness and was determined to keep striding onwards into the light.

  Lysia pressed a long kiss to his left shoulder. Her warrior. He was beautiful in his desire to be good again, to be a man worthy of her and to right his wrongs.

  “Tickles,” he mumbled into the cushion and his silvery eyebrows met in a frown.

  His jade eyes slowly opened and sought her. She smiled and brushed her fingers across his back.

  “You were meant to be resting.” She drew away to give him more room and he rolled onto his back, gloriously naked and delicious.

  The sight of him had her heating inside and fire pooling in her belly.

  He stretched and his grin was wicked as he caught her staring
at his magnificent body, her eyes drifting over the honed muscles of his torso towards his hips.

  His black loincloth appeared before she could reach them and she frowned at him.

  He pushed himself up, yawned to reveal short canines instead of fangs, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

  “I was resting.” The deep raspy quality of his voice made her shiver. He sounded even more alluring and masculine than usual when roused from sleep.

  The corner of his sensual mouth quirked.

  Lysia blushed.

  “You could have at least woken me with a proper kiss.” He moved quicker than she could evade, sliding his hand around the nape of her neck and clutching it, pulling her into his arms and her lips against his.

  She gasped into his mouth as he kissed her, throwing fuel onto the fire he had already ignited in her belly. She caught hold of his shoulders and kissed him back, her lips dancing desperately across his, hungry for more.

  He broke away and smiled at her, one that had her heart fluttering in her chest. All the light in the world shone in his eyes and stole her troubles away. He seemed happy today. Because of what they had done or something else?

  She felt at peace in this place, with him, as if the future didn’t exist and they would always be like this. Together and happy. She wanted that more than anything, and the look in his eyes spoke to her soul and said she wasn’t alone in her desire. He wanted it too. He was happy because he was here with her.

  “Good morning,” he husked and rubbed the back of her neck, sending shivers sweeping down it to her shoulders, keeping her hunger for him at a low boil. “Or it might be evening. Never can tell in this fucking place.”

  “It’s morning.”

  He arched an eyebrow at that.

  She glanced away and then back at him. “I can tell. I’m not sure how.”

  “I never thought this place had a morning or evening… I just figured it was always the same. Perpetual night. Like Heaven is perpetual day.”

  She hadn’t known that. “I only know what I feel. It feels like morning. I sensed power awakening in the west.”

  “Power?” He frowned now. “You mean Asmodeus? We’re south of him.”

  She shook her head. “No. Immense power. The Devil. He keeps hours based on the mortal realm. Even in my captivity I knew when he woke, signalled by a sharp rise in his power within the fortress, and I sensed when he moved away from the area, and when he slept.”

  “That I definitely didn’t know. He sleeps?” The look on Nevar’s face told her that it had come as a shock to him.

  “Of course he sleeps.” She couldn’t understand why that seemed like such a strange concept to him.

  Nevar rested his back against the cave wall and stared out of the wide arched entrance off to his right. “But he’s an angel of Hell. Hell’s angels don’t need to sleep or eat in this realm.”

  She could see why he would have presumed such a thing. “He isn’t a Hell’s angel… or an angel of Hell. He’s a true fallen angel.”

  “True fallen?” Nevar looked back at her. “Isn’t that just a Hell’s angel?”

  “No.” She didn’t think it was anyway. “A Hell’s angel is pledged to the Devil, a minion under his control. No one controls the Devil. He is a power in this realm… I mean… he was cast out but not stripped of his corrupted powers or pledged to another master.”

  “Like Asmodeus.”

  She shook her head again. “Asmodeus is the Devil’s servant. You are Asmodeus’s servant. The Devil has no master.”

  “I get that,” Nevar said as his frown lifted. “So the bastard has to sleep… does he have to eat too?”

  She shrugged. “That I do not know. But I heard rumours once, many millennia ago, that—”

  A shiver bolted down her spine and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

  Nevar shot to his feet and his armour appeared, covering his shins, forearms, hips and chest. A black curved blade with a violet grip materialised in his right hand and he snagged her wrist with the other and pulled her up to him. Her shorts, top and sandals appeared on her body.

  “We’re not alone,” she whispered and her claws extended.

  He nodded. “Four of them.”

  The angels.

  She would know their signature anywhere after encountering them on the island and feeling their power encompassing her.

  “Stay here.” He dropped a kiss on her brow. “I will see what they want.”

  He released her and strode out of the cave. Lysia huffed and followed him, ignoring his order. She wasn’t going to let him face these four angels alone. He was stronger now because he had fed a little, but he hadn’t taken enough from her to restore all of his power.

  She looked off to her left, beyond Nevar to the small flat clearing beside the cave. The hill rose above it and on the peak stood the four angels, all staring down at her and Nevar.

  How had they found them?

  The one with the long white hair worn with the top half tied back from his face and the rest left to hang down his back stepped forwards. He unfurled his wings of purest snow and beat them, lifting off the mound. He spread them wide and glided down to the plain, landing a few metres away from Nevar.

  Nevar backed off a step, coming to shield her, and his black wings grew from his back. He was preparing for a battle.

  “What do you want?” Nevar growled and called another black blade to his free hand.

  The angel raised an eyebrow at it and then his ice blue eyes lifted back to Nevar’s face. He casually raised his left hand and the three other angels left their posts on the hill, coming to flank the male.

  Was he acting as their leader?

  The largest of the warriors, with his overlong pale hair and green eyes, landed off to the left of Mihail. The one with short red hair and golden eyes ringed with crimson landed at Mihail’s side, furling his scarlet wings against his back. The last one didn’t land. He hovered above the three, his black wings beating the hot air at her and his grey eyes locked on Nevar.

  Each wore a grim look that held darkness in it, a shadow of menace that she found strange in angels of Heaven.

  This close, with only a few metres separating them, she could make out that their black leather armour wasn’t identical. The engravings each angel bore were different, and inlaid with a colour that matched their wings and hair. She dragged her focus away from Mihail’s and the images of demons being defeated by men that were inlaid with dull white on it. This wasn’t the time to take her eyes off her enemy. These four angels had come here with a purpose and she wanted to know what it was, just as Nevar did.

  “I will not ask again. What do you want?” Nevar eyed each male in turn and she did the same, calculating their strengths and searching for any weaknesses.

  Mihail stepped forwards.

  Nevar stepped backwards, keeping the distance between them steady.

  The angel smiled. “I do not mean you harm.”

  Nevar laughed at that and Mihail’s eyes darkened.

  “Excuse me if I find that difficult to believe after our last encounter.” Nevar shifted his grip on his two blades and shuffled his feet further apart. “Where’s Lysander?”

  Lysia hadn’t failed to notice that he wasn’t present. Had the four angels not made it out of Hell after all? Asmodeus and Apollyon had said they were taken by the light, just as Lysander had been. What reason could they have for being here without him though? He had announced himself as their leader. What sort of leader allowed his men to go off on a mission without him?

  “Lysander is busy making preparations,” Mihail said.

  “Preparations for what?” Nevar’s question hung in the acrid heavy air between them.

  The angel didn’t look inclined to answer it.

  She frowned at the four angels, studying them hard while they gave Nevar their full attention.

  What sort of angels had such tattoos? Some of them were of dragons and beasts, and unholy things. Others were of
skeletons. Some were angelic symbols. Others written in the demon tongue. Some were glyphs, protective charms that were ancient and beautiful, from all different lands of the mortal world.

  And others still were in a language she now recognised as English.

  She stared hard at the letters that curved beneath the navel of the angel with the short red hair, spanning hip to hip, trying to understand them. Just as she deciphered the word they spelled, she felt his golden gaze slide her way. Her eyes darted up to meet his.

  His full lips tilted into a wicked smile and he stroked the letters that declared ‘VICTORY’, a suggestive glint in his eyes.

  Lysia looked away from him.

  These were not angels as she knew them.

  They had a wickedness about them, a shadow in their aura that spoke of a darker edge to their souls.

  “It has been decided that you will come with us,” Mihail said and, for a heartbeat, Lysia thought he was talking to her but his gaze was firmly fixed on Nevar. “Heaven desires to speak with you. It has an offer to lay on the table.”

  Nevar laughed again. “I do not think so. Heaven has nothing it can offer me.”

  The angel shifted a step closer, towering taller than Nevar. “It has much to offer you. Do you not desire things which only Heaven can give to you?”

  Mihail raked his cold gaze over Nevar’s black armour and then his body. It lingered on Nevar’s hands and he shook his head.

  “So much darkness,” Mihail said, his eyes on the black skin that covered Nevar’s arms to his elbows, and she felt Nevar falter, sensed his momentary slip in strength through their link before his grip on his swords tightened again and he stood a little straighter, tilting his chin up.

  The angel meant to play on his weaknesses, just as she had wanted to seek out and play on theirs. They were wicked indeed.

  “Do you long for it to be gone?” Mihail canted his head and smiled. “It can be gone. Heaven will grant that if you come with us. They only desire to speak with you as the creature’s master and find a way to avert the apocalypse she will bring about.”

  Nevar stared at the angel in silence, his jade gaze never leaving his, and Lysia could feel that he wanted to take the angel’s offer. She pressed her hand to her heart, to the mark beneath her skin. Heaven was offering Nevar a chance to purge some of the evil that lived inside him and part of her wanted him to take that offer, to seize that which he desired above all else, while another part silently begged him to refuse and stay with her.