Only You (UnHallowed Series Book 3)

by Tmonique Stephens

  Gideon moved faster than she could track. Next thing she knew, her back was against the bars, and his palm was against her lips, sealing her words inside her mouth. A simultaneous chop to the throat and knee to the groin had Amaya free and Gideon on his knees. He dropped to the side and rolled before she could follow through. He shook off his pain and rushed to his feet in time to deflect her spinning back kick from his head to his chest.

  She hit him center mass and sent him flying into the stone wall, fracturing the surface. This time, he wasn’t so fast gaining his footing. She grabbed his head and smashed it into the wall. Once. Twice. On the third go around, he swept her feet out from beneath her and pinned her shoulders.

  Amaya head butted him. Both groaned from the impact. Gideon wobbled and his hands relaxed on her shoulders. For the first time, she felt for her weapons. Her palms remained empty. They were gone.

  She punched his ribs, but couldn’t put real power behind the blows. The fucker still flinched and doubled his efforts to pin her down. Head still ringing from the head butt, she smashed her head into his again.

  Everything went gray, then faded to black for a few costly seconds. Gideon hooked her under the arms and dragged her across the floor. With her brains scrambled, she couldn’t stop him. She was at his mercy and knew he had none.

  He tossed her against the bars, further rattling her brain. She flopped into an awkward, twisted position. Arms, legs, and wings, all of her seemed to be at odd angles.

  “I killed Braile,” he threw back his head and roared, then sent a fist into the wall.

  Three words, and each stabbed Amaya’s heart. She wasn’t immobile, though both legs and arms tingled, strangely weak. She straightened to return blood flow to her limbs in preparation for her next attack.

  “Because he asked me too,” Gideon’s voice lost its edge and cracked at the end. His head hung and he choked back something close to a sob.

  Warmth spread in the center of her chest, sort of an internal glow she couldn’t deny. Her ears twitched, sending a cascading ripple through her blood. For the first time since he opened his mouth, she heard the truth in Gideon’s words. The grace in her veins recognized the truth. A cry ripped from her throat before she blocked it. “Why?” she whispered. “I need to understand.” Why the ultimate sacrifice, and why did he abandon her?

  Gideon scrubbed a hand over his face, then mumbled, “To close the Cruor. He sacrificed himself to close the portal to Hell.”

  “And for that you killed him?”

  He raked his fingers through his hair and dropped to his haunches in front of her. “The last drop of an archangel’s blood has to be willingly given. Willingly! It is the only way to close the portal. It can’t be stolen, and the archangel can’t facilitate their death. It’s a catch-22 with no workaround. I’d thought Braile had put the idea to bed, then he attacked.” His eyes took on a glazed, faraway look. “I tried to stop, but he kept pushing. I was furious, knew what he was doing, but I was locked in the heat of battle.” His shoulders slumped, curled in as he dropped his head. “I won and finished him off with slits to his wrists and neck.”

  Her head whipped back and forth, flinging tears left and right. “You didn’t win, Gideon. He let you beat him.”

  His vertebrae creaked with each nod. “You think I don’t know this? All of a sudden, the Chancellor of the Celestial Army makes a rookie move and lets me beneath his guard. I’m not an idiot,” he ended on a hiss, his head raising, their gazes clashing.

  “No, you’re just a murderer.” The memory of the night filled her head in brutal detail—the battle, the bleeding out, and Braile’s acceptance. In the end, he tried to absolve Gideon, so that he wouldn’t suffer from his actions, but he waited too long and the power of speech failed him.

  She dragged her arm across her damp cheeks and blinked away the rest of the tears. “Braile forgave you. He wanted you to know that before he died,” she bit out, and was annoyed at the instant relief in her soul as if Braile approved of her telling Gideon.

  Gideon paced like a caged animal wanting to strike. A part of her wanted to comfort him because that’s what Braile had wanted in his final moments. The rest of her wanted to get as far away as possible.

  Concern on his face, instead of fury, Gideon whispered harshly, “I know you don’t trust me, don’t want to hear anything I have to say, but this is im—” his head cocked to the side and his nostrils flared.

  Panic seized her because she knew the scent he’d caught and knew the memory it would trigger. His head jerked back and forth, tracking the scent until it brought his stunned gaze to her. She lunged to her feet, prepared to do anything to protect her secret. Between one blink and the next, he was in her face and had pinned her shoulders to the bars, crushing her wings. He moved just as fast, just as deliberate as the rest of the UnHallowed. The bastard had been toying with her, holding back. Why?

  He leaned forward, buried his nose in her hair, and sniffed. “I smell Braile on you. Why?” he murmured so low, she had to read his lips. Gideon’s nostrils flared and his chest expanded slowly. His gaze dropped to her healing knuckles and the drying blood on her forearm. “Not possible,” he said again, though with less conviction.

  “Oh, it’s more than poss—”

  He slapped a hand over her mouth. Palpable fear flowed from him, causing a shiver to run down her spine and goosebumps to pop on her arms.

  “Not possible,” he mouthed and again, inhaled deeply. “How?” he mouthed as crimson swallowed his cerulean irises and tears pooled.

  She slapped at the hand still covering her mouth. Gideon shook his head and dipped his head close to hers. He angled her head so his lips were right at her ear. “Miracle or magic, don’t let him know.”

  Now, she clawed at his hand to demand he tell her who was he talking about. What did he mean?

  “We need her alive and all her parts in working order, Gideon. That’s what we agreed upon.”

  Immediately, Gideon released her and stepped away, his features wiped clean of emotion.

  Amaya took her time. She made a slow turn and peered through the bars at the Demoni Lord waiting on the other side.

  Chapter Three

  “I did it! I did it!” Taige couldn’t stop chanting. He kept a vice grip on the four by four Cruor, while Aiden controlled the dimensional pocket. His future and his fortune lay in his hands, which was almost as satisfying as besting Malphas. Taige wouldn’t soon forget the fury on his former master’s face when he wrested the Cruor away from all who sought it.

  Oh, this victory was to be savored, relished, and recycled in his memory as he sipped aged whiskey and dined on the marrow of an unfortunate human.

  “You didn’t get the angel.” Aiden burst Taige’s celebratory bubble.

  Let me have my moment. Taige tried to return to his happy place and couldn’t. Now all he could see was the angel slipping through his fingers. A setback he chose not to remember until necessity demanded, which was not right now!

  He suffered a slow, drawn out breath and studied the question with an objectivity he didn’t quite feel. How had she achieved it? Not slipping through his grasp, but transforming into an angel? She was very human when last he saw her hooked up to machines in a hospital bed. And almost dead after he’d drained her blood. Dead people didn’t punch with enough force to crack his jaw. He stroked the bruise on his chin.

  The dimensional pocket faded, leaving them at their destination north of the city, in an industrial complex. Taige rested the Cruor next to a rusted beam Swiss-cheesed with holes. The abandoned factory wasn’t cozy. It leaked and was infested with rats, but it was home—temporarily.

  “What was an angel doing there? I thought I removed the Celestial Army from the playing field.” Aiden tapped his chin. “Could the Celestial Order have rebounded so quickly from such a crippling blow?”

  Taige wasn’t sure what to address first: Aiden’s superior belief of his abilities, or the return of the Celestial Order. He chose the
former because Aiden needed to understand the hierarchy of their relationship and Taige didn’t know the answer to the latter.

  Taige allowed his vocal cords to thicken, dropping his voice five octaves so his true, guttural tone could be heard. “I removed the Celestial Army, you acted on my orders, is that clear?” Regardless of it being a lie. He had no idea what Aiden had planned.

  Aiden ducked his head and stammered an apology, like a good lackey. He offered his vein in the traditional way a Spaun showed deference and fealty to a superior. Taige ignored the proffered wrist and turned his attention inward. Her hair and coloring were the same, also her features, yet… “I’m not sure that was an angel. She was celestial, but that was the human I drained.”

  “Are you certain?”

  Again, Aiden had forgotten his place. Nostrils flaring, his demon alter ego stretched under his skin. “Never question me.”

  Aiden ducked his head again. “Forgive me. I just don’t see how it’s possible. You said she was a hybrid, a halfling.”

  “She is.” Was. “And now she is something else. Something changed her. Made her more powerful.” Gave her wings!

  Aiden walked over to the Cruor. His hand hovered over the surface. Just when Taige thought Aiden would touch it, he dropped his hand to his side and moved on to the grace shimmering in a pail next to the pedestal the Cruor rested upon. “What if this grace isn’t strong enough?”

  If the grace isn’t strong enough, then the Cruor stayed closed. No Demoni Lords. Their masters remained trapped in Hell. Suddenly, that wasn’t such a horrible prospect. The blood bond he gave his true master waited this long. A few more centuries shouldn’t matter. Taige eyed Aiden. The Spaun was so eager to please and so eager to free his Lord. Could be a problem.

  Taige shrugged. “Then we go shopping for more.”

  Aiden clapped and jumped up and down. “Ooohh! Grocery shopping! This time, I get to drain her, pretty please.”

  Chapter Four

  Amaya locked her knees, slowed her racing heart, and forced herself to breathe slow and easy as she focused on Malphas. At the same time, she tracked Gideon coming up on her right, within striking distance.

  Gideon was the greater threat, yet she didn’t take her eyes off Malphas. A tactical error, yes. However, even though she shared a cage with a traitor she had to kill, Malphas was the true danger. After all, he had masterminded the entire thing: the ambush, her imprisonment, and the traitor’s presence.

  His cognac, free of red, gaze skimmed her body with a languid, practiced stroll. She felt it, actually felt his gaze on her skin. The effect made her want to take a paring knife to her own flesh.

  Amaya hid her revulsion and gripped the bars. She leaned in until her cheeks touched the cold iron. “What now?”

  A smile split Malphas’s arresting face. He wasn’t handsome, not in the classic sense. His forehead was a little too broad, his eyes a tad too sunken, lips a bit too thin. Not that it mattered. At six seven and carrying enough muscle mass to bench press an F-150, more than a few ladies would give him a waiver on his shortcomings. He wore his suit with an easy grace she hadn’t seen on many. Then again, she hadn’t met many billionaires. Until recently, her world consisted of working a nine to five, a seventeen-year-old Camry, and a studio apartment. And that was just the daytime hours. At night, Darklings had occupied her time.

  “Now.” He stepped closer, yet still out of arms reach. “We negotiate.”

  That was the last thing she expected out of his mouth. She wasn’t currently in a position of power, so what could he possibly want to negotiate with her? The answer had a laugh escaping as she cocked her head to the side and said, “No.”

  His brow lowered, making his eyes pitted wells where dead things lived, yet his lips stretched into a tight grin.

  Next to her, Gideon murmured, “You haven’t heard the terms.”

  She gave a careless shrug. “Mr. Big Baller doesn’t need my money. He may even truly want to screw me, though I doubt it.”

  “Oh, I would love to have you beneath me, on top of me, beside me, whatever position you desire as long as your legs are spread and your core is wet.” Malphas’s sultry voice washed over her and touched every nerve. Amateur night compared to Tahariél, who was the master at making a woman cream from just his voice.

  Never gonna happen. “There’s only one thing I have that he doesn’t—the UnHallowed.” She spared a glance at Gideon. “I bet they saw you, Bane and the others, saw you with your new bestie and now you can’t go home ‘cause you’d be gutted and mounted. Whatever value you had to Malphas is null and void.” She pointed a finger in his face. “So you betrayed your brothers for nothing, you piece of shit.”

  His lips peeled back in a snarl and his hands balled into fists. Amaya ignored him and turned her attention back to Malphas. Without warning, the bars retracted into the ground.

  She stepped free and kept both men in her sights. Every instinct ordered her to attack but Gideon rushed to the cell housing the woman. Sprawled on the rocky floor, the female didn’t react as he reached through the bars and captured her limp hand. The UnHallowed had other interests that didn’t involve Amaya. Right now, she was on the lowest rung of his totem pole.

  An image of Bane falling, burning, choked her. Had he survived? She shied away from the alternative. He couldn’t be dead. Not him. Please, not him.

  “An angel that curses and associates with the UnHallowed. Saying you’re unique doesn’t do you justice. Please, tell me your name.”

  He had to have heard Bane shout it as he was pitched into the sun. Fear stabbed her as she relived that horrid moment.

  “I won’t hurt you,” Malphas soothed. “You have my promise.” He touched the center of his chest as if something pulsed within.

  So he can sense my fear, and thought it was about him. “Good to know,” she said in response to his promise and her thoughts. “Amaya.” She left off the surname because angels didn’t have one, and she had enough sense to know Malphas needed to believe she was always a celestial being, not newly transformed from recycled grace.

  Amusement danced over Malphas’s face as if he’d scored a goal. “You’re correct. I need your assistance with the UnHallowed.”

  “In exchange for?” There wasn’t a drop of altruism in the Demoni Lord. He was in this situation for himself, not world peace.

  “Walk with me.” The wall behind him shifted, then retracted showing a tunnel. He started down the path without waiting for an answer.

  Amaya paused and threw a glance at Gideon, who hadn’t moved from his position. She couldn’t catch his murmured words but felt the love in the timbre of his voice and desperation leeching out of him. He loved the woman. Whatever treachery he’d done, he did for her and not for Malphas.

  What she wouldn’t give to have that kind of love. Received and given. Her last image of Bane’s anguished face seared her. His outstretched arms, reaching for her, as hers did for him.

  Malphas cleared his throat, drawing attention back to him. “Gideon will be along shortly, for now, it’s just you and I having a nice talk.”

  She followed, the light at the end of the tunnel, a beacon drawing her forth, though his height and width blocked most of it. No moss on the walls, no lichen clinging, no steady dripping of water, the usual things that plagued caves. It was a clean, cool, rodent free abode.

  The ground tilted upward, the air heating as she ascended. A breeze lifted the hair off her brow, caressed her forehead, and ruffled her wings. She caught the scent of the ocean, clean and salty and sweet. Her feet picked up speed when the light turned out to be the sun, not some artificial source. A sudden bout of claustrophobia closed her throat, shriveled her skin. She wanted to push past Malphas and rush to the surface. Instead, she forced herself to follow at a sedate pace.

  The sound of water breaking against a rocky shoreline caught her attention. Malphas glanced back at her as if her anxiety prodded him to move faster. A knowing smirk twisted his lips, adding
to his cockiness. That smirk must’ve dropped a ton of panties, and he was confident hers would be next. She kept her snort to herself.

  The tunnel widened and spit her out onto a wide ledge. She walked out to the edge and inhaled sharply at the black sandy beach in a secluded clove five hundred feet below.

  Amaya had never been to the ocean. She’d never been out of Detroit, until the Vegas trip. What Happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas. Did that apply to staging an attack on a high-rise hotel? Her wings unfurled and each feather was caressed. The sensation was almost orgasmic. “Where am I?”

  “Iceland. No point not telling you since you are no longer my prisoner.”

  Great! She was on the other side of the world with the grace of an archangel in her veins, wings on her back as her feet hung over a ledge. The only thing that would’ve made this moment perfect was—she shut down her train of thought. No use pining for what she didn’t have.

  She had to get back to America. Vegas or Danville? She quickly decided on the latter. No one would stay at the site of his or her defeat. Regrouping would be a priority; Danville would be the place to go.

  “You are the most beautiful being I’ve ever beheld,” he spoke low, on purpose she surmised.

  “Cut the shit and get to the negotiating. You’re boring me.” She kept her eyes on the choppy water and the horizon, hoping to keep him off her game.

  “No seduction? Flirtation?” A pained sigh came from him and a tsk. “I am the type who finds foreplay in every facet of my life. I must tell you, your bluntness is very arousing.” He ended on a husky note.

  Amaya turned her face into the wind. Her wings ached to expand and take to the sky. “There is nothing keeping me from opening my wings and flying away. Do not waste my time.”

  He sighed again and dragged a hand through his brownish blond hair. “As you wish. Taige, the Spaun you fought on the rooftop, has the Cruor. Worse, ten of my staff, all Spaun, are missing.”