Nevar couldn’t miss the irony in that one. He had done the very same thing to Asmodeus, seeking his weakness and discovering it in Liora in order to punish him. He was as bad as these four males, and he could see the error of his ways now that it was too late to correct his mistakes.
Part of his heart refused to regret what he had done, because it had brought him Lysia, a woman he would do anything to protect.
“What do you want with Lysia?” he spat out, unable to keep the dark edge from his voice as he glared up at Astaroth. “Why do you need a weakness of hers?”
Astaroth shifted his right foot and Nevar refused to flinch away. This male could do whatever he wanted to him and he wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing his pain or his fear. The only thing he cared about now was Lysia and stopping their plans for her.
Astaroth furled his white wings against his back and ran his hands down their lengths, preening them. He took pride in those wings. They would be the first thing Nevar tore from him.
“We mean to awaken her.”
A chill went through Nevar and he looked from Astaroth to the other two who had come to stand behind him, flanking him.
They meant to kill him in front of her.
“Why lure her here?” Darkness stirred within him, trickling through his veins right now but he knew it would soon become a flood that surged, obliterating everything in its path, and he would welcome it when it came. He would do whatever it took to protect Lysia from these fiends. “Why didn’t you just kill me when you came to take me away?”
He cursed himself for falling for that one, but each of the four were a perfect replica of the angels he had met on the island. Or perhaps those angels were a perfect replica of these ones. Nevar’s gut said that the Devil hadn’t created these angels, not as he had Asmodeus. These had been made by Heaven and cast out by that realm, and replaced by better versions.
It would explain Astaroth’s problem with hearing the name Mihail, and why these four seemed bent on awakening the destroyer. They wanted Heaven and Hell to pay for what it had done. He could understand that, could even sympathise a little, but he wasn’t about to step back and let them carry out their plans.
Astaroth’s eyes turned as frigid as the coldest depths of Antarctica and the combined power of all four angels pressed down on Nevar, turning his stomach and crushing his bones, reminding him that he was no match for them and wouldn’t be even if he was at full strength.
“There is another part to the plan.” Astaroth’s lips curved into a wicked smile. “We required your friends to attempt to take you back, drawing the attention of our brethren.”
Brethren?
The four angels he had met on the island?
“Why?” he said.
“It is none of your concern.” Astaroth signalled to Samael and the black-haired angel stepped off Nevar’s back and hauled him back onto his knees. “You will be dead soon and returned to Heaven, as we promised. You will forget everything and you will awaken to a different world, one where Heaven and Hell are no longer the only controlling powers.”
Nevar barked out a laugh.
Astaroth’s face darkened.
“It has been a while since Heaven and Hell were the only controlling powers.” Nevar tipped his head back and narrowed his green gaze on Astaroth. “It has long been acknowledged by both realms that the group I have become a part of are a third power, and one neither realm dares to underestimate.”
The white-haired angel glared down at him, fire beginning to break through the ice in his eyes, turning them bright gold.
Nevar held his gaze. “Lysia will not come alone… and those who come with her have enough power to defeat you.”
The big pale-haired one smirked. “You did not mention your fate.”
Nevar shifted his focus to him, feeling the edges of his irises beginning to turn violet with the darkness rising within him, pouring through his muscles now, crushing the pain and leaving him numb to it.
“My fate is what it is.” Nevar twisted his arms, slowly flexing his muscles to see whether he was strong enough to break the chains that bound him yet and trying not to draw attention to what he was doing. “I cannot change that. As I am now, I’m not powerful enough to defeat you alone, and you will not give me a chance to fight you fairly.”
All four of them shook their heads.
Nevar smiled.
“Do you mind if I try anyway?”
Darkness exploded over his skin, turning it inky midnight, and his black claws thickened and lengthened into talons. His black wings burst from his back, tearing through the chains that bound his arms. The silver links scattered, filling the shocked silence as they bounced across the basalt.
Nevar beat his broad wings and shot into the air. The light from the lava river below caught their feathers, reflecting back as a purple sheen. His horns curled, his skull aching as they emerged, flaring back from behind his ears and darkening to black. He snarled, his lips peeling back off his teeth as they all sharpened and his lower canines lengthened to match his fangs.
Astaroth was the first to regain his composure, calling a white blade to his right hand.
Nevar materialised both of his black curved swords in his hands and beat his wings, holding himself in the acrid hot air above the four angels.
He canted his head, narrowing his swirling violet gaze on Astaroth.
“What are you?” The white-haired angel growled that question through clenched teeth and signalled to the other three.
“You would have to ask my master that, but I do not think the King of Demons would grant you an audience, let alone an answer.” Nevar pinned his wings back and swooped down on Astaroth.
“King of Demons? There is no king here. Only us princes.” The male swung the glowing white blade at him but he was too slow, his actions sluggish compared with the speed at which Nevar could move when he was in this state.
Nevar landed his right boot on Astaroth’s shoulder and grasped his left wing, sinking his talons deep through the white feathers and into muscle and bone.
Astaroth roared.
Nevar grinned. “I do not think such an impure being should have such pure wings.”
He pressed down with his foot and pulled back with his hands at the same time, yanking on the offending wing.
There was another roar and Samael was coming at him, his twin black spears a blur as they shot towards Nevar. Nevar flashed his fangs and kicked off Astaroth, driving the angel into the path of his comrade’s blow.
Samael’s left spear nicked the angel’s white wing where Nevar had gripped it and Astaroth turned on him with an unholy growl, his face twisted in dark lines as his power rose, all of it directed at Samael.
The black-haired angel grunted and stumbled backwards, his grey eyes blazing silver as he struggled to get his twin spears up in front of him to block the assault.
So easy to taunt and drive them against each other.
Nevar laughed.
It was short-lived.
Leviathan barrelled into him like a bullet, sending them both careening upwards. Nevar sent his blades away and wrestled with him, fighting for dominance as the angel beat his crimson wings, taking them higher. The red-haired angel slammed his left fist into Nevar’s kidney, sending pain splintering across his stomach and ricocheting down his thigh. The male growled and struck again, harder this time, and Nevar grunted and doubled over in the air, barely managing to keep beating his wings to combat Leviathan as he drove them upwards.
He sucked down a hard, painful breath and grappled with the angel, managing to catch his fist as he tried to land another blow.
Nevar twisted it hard, contorting Leviathan’s arm. The male let out a roar of pain and grabbed hold of Nevar’s hair, bunching it into his fist and yanking on it. Nevar grinned and kept twisting, intent on breaking the male’s arm.
His eyes widened as he sensed the power behind him.
He snarled and slammed his fist into Leviathan’s ja
w, driving it hard enough to crack the bone and loosen the angel’s grip on him. Nevar brought his legs up between them, pressed them into Leviathan’s stomach, and kicked hard, propelling him back to the ground at tremendous speed.
Nevar twisted in the air a split-second later, barely evading the sickle-shaped blades of the pale-haired angel, and beat his wings, shooting beneath him.
The big angel grunted and pursued him. Nevar used his speed to his advantage, slowly gaining distance between them, and called his black swords back to his hands.
“Ramiel,” Leviathan hollered and the pale-haired angel broke away.
Nevar looked over his shoulder and watched him go, his gaze narrowing.
And flew straight into Astaroth.
The blow came out of nowhere, connecting hard with the underside of Nevar’s jaw and snapping his head back, rattling his brain in his skull. Nevar flew upwards, trying to shake it off and stop his mind from spinning. He growled as his vision finally stopped splintering and found himself face-to-face with Astaroth.
The angel hovered a few metres above Nevar, looking down on him.
Nevar clutched his blades.
Astaroth spread his bloodstained wings and swept his white sword in a swift arc. A curve of light hung in the air, forming the path of the blade, and then it shot towards Nevar at sonic speed.
He tried to dodge it, furiously beating his black wings, but it grew as it approached, spanning more than a hundred feet. It caught his ankles and sent him spinning through the air, and knocked his swords from his hands. They tumbled through the air, plummeting towards the black valley, and disappeared as he sent them away. He spread his wings, stopping his descent, and unleashed more of his power, calling on all of it. His blades materialised in his hands. His talons grew longer, curved around their violet grips, and he turned dark purple eyes on Astaroth.
If he could defeat the angel, the others were bound to fall back. He could be with Lysia again.
He was no match for these angels.
There was only one thing he could do.
He could die here, before she could arrive and witness his execution. He had promised to return to her, and he wanted to keep that promise, but he wouldn’t do it at the cost of her seeing him die and awakening as the Great Destroyer. She wanted a normal life, one without pain and suffering, and he wanted to give that to her.
Even if he couldn’t share it with her.
It was time he took responsibility and corrected his mistakes.
He beat his wings and shot towards Astaroth, his swords at the ready. The angel sent another arc of light at him and he rolled to avoid it and flapped his wings again, gaining speed.
He sent one blade away and clutched the remaining one with both hands, and lowered it to his side. The distance between him and the white-haired angel closed.
Nevar roared and swept his blade up in an arc, pouring every ounce of his strength into the blow so it would deal damage even if Astaroth blocked it.
The angel did as he predicted, his white blade clashing with the black of Nevar’s, and Nevar kept beating his wings, driving the angel back through the air with him. He snarled and clashed with Astaroth again, slowly increasing the distance between him and the others, separating them.
Astaroth was the most predictable out of the four. Unlike the others, he preferred to face his enemies alone rather than as part of a team, and it would be his undoing. One-on-one, Nevar was strong enough to deal damage to the angel. Not kill him. No. He was weakening with every second, his strength slipping as the wounds he had already sustained began to drain him again.
But he could provoke Astaroth into killing him.
He could drive the male into a rage where he would deal the final blow that would send Nevar back to Heaven before Lysia arrived, sparing her the pain of witnessing his death.
He would find a way to remember her, just as Veiron had remembered Erin.
He pressed his hand to his chest and swore it on the mark beneath his black armour.
Astaroth lashed out at him, cutting across Nevar’s black wings. Pain tore through him, the agony so intense that it blinded him for a few seconds, sending him plummeting towards the ground. He ground his teeth and fought through the pain as he beat his wings, each flap sending fresh agony blazing through their bones.
He growled and barrelled into Astaroth, his shoulder striking the angel hard in his stomach between the pieces of his armour.
Nevar sank his talons into the male’s side and tore through his flesh. The angel roared and smacked him on the side of his head with the hilt of his sword, sending his head spinning violently again. Nevar repaid him by sinking his fangs into the wound he had created above his hip and taking a great gulp of his blood before the male managed to knock him away.
Power flowed through him, a hazy warmth that left him feeling numb again, immune to the pain of his injuries.
Astaroth growled at him, baring his own fangs, and clutched his side. “You will pay for that.”
Nevar wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and grinned. “Make me.”
Astaroth’s blade glowed brighter and white flames licked along the length of it. He beat his white wings and shot towards Nevar, diving through the hot thick air at him.
Nevar remained where he was, waiting. Welcoming.
Fury blazed in Astaroth’s gold-edged-blue eyes, anger that was etched on his face as he sneered and laced his power. The angel drew his blade upwards, holding it in both hands above his head, and roared as he brought it down, aimed directly at Nevar’s head.
Nevar closed his eyes.
He would find a way back to Lysia.
He swore it.
She would never be alone again.
“Astaroth.” Samael’s deep voice boomed from below them. “She comes.”
Nevar’s eyes shot open and Astaroth stopped above him, his blade mere millimetres from dealing the killing blow he had desired.
The white-haired angel’s lips twisted into a cruel smile.
Despair went through Nevar and he turned, afraid of what he would see.
His eyes locked with Lysia’s where she flew towards him beside Asmodeus, her leathery wings desperately beating the air as she reached for him.
Nevar reached for her, his heart slamming against his ribs.
His violet eyes widened.
White-hot pain blazed through his chest.
CHAPTER 25
“No!” Lysia reached for Nevar as the white blade sank into his chest and punched through his black armour, a stream of light beaming from its tip and cutting through the darkness of Hell.
Asmodeus roared beside her, his pain palpable, beating within his power as it rose and his horns emerged, his black hair fluttering back to reveal them. His golden eyes swirled into purple and shadows streamed over his hands as his nails became long deadly talons.
Her own claws underwent a similar transformation as she raced to reach Nevar, determined to prove to herself that it wasn’t too late to save him.
The white-haired angel slowly turned his head towards her, his cold smile stoking the fury blazing in her heart.
She screamed and threw her hands towards him, blasting him away from Nevar with her telekinesis. The sword pulled free of Nevar’s chest and blood burst from the wound, falling in a thick tangled ribbon from beneath his black breastplate as he hung in the air.
His head fell back and he dropped, his black wings fluttering upwards as the air battered him.
Lysia dove after him, tears blurring her vision briefly before they flowed across her temples, the speed of her flight driving them into her black hair.
The red-haired and black-haired angels flew into her path, blocking her way to Nevar.
She growled at them through her fangs and threw both of her hands forwards, slamming telekinetic blasts into both of them and thrusting them out of her way.
Asmodeus’s black hand snapped around her wrist and he yanked her sideways just as a gleaming white blade slash
ed through the air where she had been.
The white-haired angel sneered at her, his gold-rimmed icy eyes filled with all the darkness of Hell.
She cursed him in her tongue, damning him, and left him to Asmodeus as she broke away from the angel and flew towards Nevar.
He was gone.
Pain burned like an ember in her chest that sparked an inferno.
She threw her head back and cried out her agony as the mark on her chest emerged, blazing bright purple and searing her. Her entire body shook as violent waves of pain pulsed through her, flowing outwards from the mark, and she pressed both hands to it.
The pain suddenly disappeared.
Her connection to him disappeared with it, leaving a void behind, a cold empty abyss within her that he had filled. She screamed and darkness poured in to fill the void he had left behind, a swirling black maelstrom of hatred and rage, a deep hunger for vengeance.
A world that would take him from her so cruelly was not a world worth saving.
She turned on the angels where they fought Asmodeus. He wore the same form as Nevar had done, his skin the colour of midnight and his vicious talons long and beautiful as he battled the angels, fury and sorrow shining in his violet eyes and radiating through his power.
She beat her wings as they began to grow, stretching wider. Her black hair fluttered against the breeze from her leathery wings and swept upwards, streaming back from her head and twisting into six long ribbons. A swirling black mist of rage and pain consumed her, threatening to take her over and devour her.
Her heart ached, briefly chasing back the change coming over her and halting it.
She didn’t want to destroy this world or the people she had come to see as her friends.
Beneath her hands, the violet mark stuttered and faded.
Rage swallowed her again, the surge of darkness too strong for her to contain as the seal broke.
Asmodeus paused and looked back at her, and she reached for him, tears blurring her vision.
“Tell them I am sorry… I never wanted this.”
He beat his black wings and flew towards her, shaking his head as his violet eyes implored her to fight. She couldn’t stop the change coming over her. She didn’t have a choice.
Her Avenging Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 7) Page 26
