“I have matching shin and arm guards. But yes, in order to fight, you must play the part of a female warrior.”
“A female warrior would be protected from head to toe, not revealing so much…skin.”
Nadya smiled, looking very much like a wicked witch, though I knew she was not—at least not to me. “These are demon fighting pits, not the battlefield. You’ll be fighting like any true warrior for your life, but you are merely entertainment for the rabble. And the rabble decides if you’re good enough to go on and fight in Lisabette’s pit. Therefore, you must be enticing with more than your blades.”
I took the gear, which was heavier than it looked, and lay it out on the bed, wondering if this would work. We still didn’t have a plan for how we were going to get out of Lisabette’s castle once we were in.
“Don’t worry, Anya.” She strolled into the adjoining bathroom to the bedchamber I’d shared with Dommiel the night before. “You’re an angel. You’ll be very enticing to the mob.”
Hearing the faucet turn on, I followed her. She sat on the edge of a large porcelain tub with claw feet, working the faucets.
“And that’s enough?” I asked. “Being an angel?”
She nodded and stood to open a cabinet to reveal a bottle of oils with hand-marked labels. Nadya appeared almost delicate in her stunning, fair beauty but her all-knowing eyes would make most enemies beware. There was something in her direct gaze that was almost predatory, like a wild cat who would surely claw if cornered.
“Oh, yes. Lisabette loves angels.” She said the last with menace and a bit of sorrow.
“You saw Uriel when he was there. Did you ever speak to him?”
She shook her head and traced her index finger along the row, then plucked the fourth one and turned, meeting my gaze.
“No. I never spoke to him. But I saw him. And he saw me.”
She unstopped the cork and poured some into the bath. A lovely sweet and spicy scent wafted into the air.
“What do you mean, he saw you?”
“He was—how shall I say—under Lisabette’s spell, her dark essence. He was not always in his own mind. One day, I saw him and what Lisabette was doing and I just couldn’t—”
She shook her head vehemently, recorking the bottle and returning it to its shelf, the glass tinkling together.
“Please,” I begged. “You must tell me. I need to prepare myself for what I’ll find when I get there.”
She faced me, her hands clasped like a lady before her. “She was beating him, which she so often did.”
I swallowed the bile climbing up my throat.
“It was one of her devices to entertain her courtiers. He’d been…abused already that day, and I could tell he was slipping into unconsciousness, so I stopped it.”
Shocked, I asked in bewilderment, “You stood up to Lisabette?”
“Oh, no. That would’ve been suicide.” She shook her head, her glossy platinum hair sliding with the movement. “I set fire to the feast in the neighboring dining room.” She gave me that wicked smile again, mixed with a little pride. “While they were running around, I unchained him and helped him to his bedchamber. To give him rest for a while. As I walked from the room, I heard his graveled voice say ‘thank you.’”
Nadya’s crystalline eyes swam with tears. “It struck me to the heart, you see. I’d done next to nothing. And there was little more that I could do except watch his destruction from afar. Like all the others.”
She inhaled deeply and turned back to sit on the edge of the tub, turning off the faucet with the tub filled.
“That’s when I knew I couldn’t stay there anymore. I had to find a way out. And so I did.”
“This demon Skaal helped you? And Axel?”
“Yes.”
“Why were you there in the first place? You don’t seem the kind of witch to be in the lair of one like Lisabette.”
Her eyes flicked to mine, hiding her emotion behind her serene expression. “That’s a long story, Anya. And one I’m rather not willing to tell.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No need for apology. You must know that it wasn’t even your friendship to Axel that persuaded me. It was the fact that you’re going in there to free that archangel.”
Her gaze glazed over a second.
“Uriel. His name is Uriel.”
“Uriel,” she whispered before turning her tranquil smile on me. “Well, you should bathe in this. My fire lily oil will settle your mind and give you ferocity for the fight.”
I stared at the seemingly harmless bathwater, the amber-colored oil having tinted the water. Nadya laughed.
“Don’t worry. There’s no black magic in it. Just the oils from the petals of fire lily, amaryllis, and Alpine poppy mixed with the first snowflakes of winter and infused with an old incantation.” She winked. “But a good one.”
“Thank you.”
I started to disrobe as she exited the room, then she popped back in, her hand on the doorframe.
“I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but in order for Dommiel to pass as your owner you’ll have to take his essence inside you.”
My pulse pounded ahead. “What?”
“You’ll need evidence.” She pointed to her eye. “They’ll need to see his essence in your eyes and that you’re truly his servant. It’s the only way they’ll allow him to go with you to Lisabette’s lair. Otherwise, if you were a free agent, an angel who deserted her kind, there’d be no need of him.” She angled her head and pursed her brow sympathetically. “Only a slave needs a slave master to sell his wares.”
With that, she left and closed the door behind her. I finished disrobing and sunk into the perfumed bath, praying that her magic in this oil would indeed steady my nerves. For now I had to prove how much I trusted Dommiel. I must allow him control of my mind and body.
As I sunk into the bath, I hissed in with a twinge of pain deep inside my chest, close to my heart. A darkness swept over me, then a flash of Simian’s smiling face, his sinister laugh, his whispered words, Ticktock, ticktock.
“No.”
I sank beneath the water, immersing myself completely, letting the sensation of Nadya’s soul-soothing balm sweep over me. I couldn’t allow Simian’s poison to take hold now. We were so close, too close to saving Uriel. Then he could save me from this dark fate.
I burst out of the water, wiping the excess from my face, and sank back down to my chin, relishing the steamy salve seeping into my skin.
“Not yet,” I pleaded to no one. To myself. Willing the prince’s poison away from my vital organ, the one I’d already willingly given to Dommiel. Though he didn’t know it.
“Please, not yet.”
…
I thought Dommiel’s jaw was going to pop out of joint he was clamping down so hard. With an exasperated sigh, I planted my hands on my bare hips.
“It’s not that bad.”
He arched a brow, his arms crossed and a severe scowl creasing his forehead with angry lines. “It’s horrifying.”
“Horrifying?”
I gazed down. The silver breastplate completely covered my chest down to my rib cage where it cut off abruptly, leaving my midriff bare. Sure, the breastplate was designed to be anatomically correct with far too much detail, including erect nipples, but at least it was soundly protective of my vitals. The shiny lycra boy shorts and the thigh-high boots in the same material were like a second skin. I wore no harnesses or sheaths as my “master” would need to be holding my weapons in his possession when I wasn’t in the ring.
To pretend that didn’t make me uneasy would’ve been a lie. I hated having to be beholden to anyone, even Dommiel. But this was for Uriel. This was for the salvation of my own soul. I’d do anything if it led us to the rightful end.
“Truth be told,” interrupted Nadya, holding a gray wolf-fur cape in her arms. “She’s covering much more skin than most of the warriors.”
Dommiel angled a murderous gl
ower on Nadya, who appeared unruffled by it. She rolled her eyes and walked over to me, handing over the fur cape, tossing her comments over her shoulder.
“If you are to attract the right kind of attention to get you both into Lisabette’s castle, then this is what she wears.”
I clasped on the fur, thankful for the coverage and the warmth.
“You mean the attention of those I’d-fuck-a-goat-if-she-wore-leather-or-lycra demon dogs?”
His voice was more growl than words. I bit back a smile, because his nasty attitude had everything to do with hating this plan of me going into the pit instead of him. His possessive hackles rose quite a bit.
“Yes,” said Nadya, sweetly. “Now let’s go. No time to waste. Leave your cell phones here. You want nothing they can take and use to find who your contacts might be.”
She marched for the door, but Dommiel didn’t move. I walked up to him, knowing that vicious glare wasn’t for me but for the demons who’d be lusting after me soon enough. I unfolded his arms and burrowed close with my arms around his waist, marveling that our short relationship had permitted me such intimacies. His power and strength were real. Sound and deadly. Yet, it would never be aimed at me, only my enemies, and that gave me unique pleasure.
I pressed a kiss on the underside of his jaw, since he refused to look down at me.
“Dommiel. This is a means to an end. So we can finish this journey.”
His arms at his sides, he didn’t try to hold me. “And then what?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll go back to Maximus’s army?”
I didn’t miss the bitterness in the way he spoke the general’s name.
“You do hate that archangel, don’t you?”
He let out an exasperated breath. “Tell me you won’t fight with him, Anya. Go anywhere else. Be Uriel’s personal messenger. Go back to saving orphans, if you must. Just don’t go back to him.”
This struck such a personal chord. I’d thought his hatred for Maximus stemmed from him leading the largest army for Elysium. It was definitely something more.
“I won’t go back to Maximus.”
Finally, he looked down at me, cupping my face with that intense worshipful gaze.
“You’ll go back to Uriel?”
“No.” I pressed up on my toes and whispered against his lips the way he loved to do to me. “I’ll go wherever you go.”
He covered my mouth with his, stroking with the savage passion he seemed to keep barely in check. Without breaking away, he backed me up toward the closed door, flattening me against the wall, sliding a heavy thigh between my legs. I moaned, but he broke the kiss and scanned my brow, my cheeks, my lips, then back to my eyes, sharpening with fierce possession.
“Win this fight, Anya. Win it not just for Uriel. Win it for—”
He cut himself off, omitting the last word I was sure would be us. Dommiel was not the kind of demon to admit he needed anyone else. He’d nearly confessed it, but clamped his jaw tight, all manner of dark and light emotions warring behind his black eye, no longer bearing the mark of his beast. Nevertheless, there was an us. Whether he admitted it aloud or not.
“Yes,” I promised him, licking my lips for my throat had suddenly turned to sand. “I’ll win.”
He crashed his mouth to mine, kissing me senseless, trying to tell me what he couldn’t in words. Things like, don’t die and I need you, were embedded in that kiss. He stroked his real hand down my neck, then lower. Stopping on my metal breast, he parted from me, panting and scowling down where his hand lay.
“Hell. I’m going to lose my goddamn mind with those horny-as-fuck demons watching you.”
“Your part as my master gives you permission to punch anyone harassing your merchandise.”
His grip tightened, his fingers lacing into my hair on the side of my head. He brushed his thumb beneath my bottom lip, into the indention he loved so well.
“True.” His scowl mutated into a look of concern. “There’s something else Nadya said we must do.”
Knowing what was coming, I allayed his fears before they morphed into something ugly. “Yes. I know. You’ll need to give me your essence”—I swallowed hard—“so they see evidence in my eyes. That I’m under your control.”
My voice was steady, but my words were cold. Stilted. There was nothing more fearful for a child of Elysium than to be in possession of a high demon. Humans willingly gave themselves all the time. There was protection and power in serving a dark lord. For me, it was like turning traitor. That’s when it hit me—why the haunting look in his midnight gaze searched mine for fear, cracks in my cool facade. He worried I’d feel the weight he felt, of being an outcast. But, this was only an act. And there was something I knew straight to my bones.
I trusted Dommiel. He would never hurt me.
“Yes.” I offered a small smile, lifting my hands to lace at his nape. “It’s okay. I know you wouldn’t abuse your power with me.” I pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I trust you.”
He shook his head as in disbelief. “Anya, baby. What am I going to do with you?”
“We’ve had this conversation before.” I arched a brow. “Right now, I’m going to kick some demon ass. Demoness, actually. But first, you’re going to breathe into me your essence.”
My pulse tripped faster at the very idea. This time, it was not because of any kind of fear, but out of exhilaration. The idea that he could have complete control of me from the inside out stirred some base need. Why did I feel so compelled to submit to him? He made me want to spread out before him, naked and bare, and let him have his way with me. Even now, as we were about to march into the most dangerous demon den yet.
His hand slid around my nape, his thumb caressing up my jaw. A glint of ruby pierced his eye as he gazed at my mouth.
“Open for me, Anya.”
There was so much more to this command. If I resisted the way I was resisting Simian’s essence, my otherworld strength could keep it from taking hold of me. But to breathe it in as if it were my own, to accept, to yield. To surrender my will would allow him inside at once.
I parted my lips as he muttered the old words, to garner service from a willing servant. Within seconds, the raven-black plume of mist wove from his mouth and into mine. I flinched at the jarring coolness, sliding down my throat like smoky ice. He continued whispering the incantation against my lips, feeding me the innate part of him. With every inhalation of his breath, my body awakened to his presence. Sliding into my veins, my blood, my muscles and bones, he wove into every part of me, stirring my allegiance, capturing my will and cradling it in that cool chalice. His signature stamping upon my body and spirit was a pool of moonlight, a scattering of stars, a perfect moment of midnight mystery.
Finally complete, he held me in his arms, watching me with the intensity that I’d come to crave, searching me for my reaction. I smiled, even with tears blurring my vision.
“You’re shaking.” His voice was gruff. “Does it…irritate you? Pain you?”
I laughed, knowing I sounded a little mad. “Quite the opposite.”
Clearing my throat of the raspy residue of what was unmistakably a dangerous kind of desire coursing through my body. A desire that bordered on self-destruction. For I didn’t just like the feeling of him inside me. I loved it. It was terrifying.
“I believe I’m in danger of being quite addicted to the sensation of you being inside of me.”
His metal fingers slid softly over the small of my back, caressing the bare patch of skin beneath the armor.
“Well, then.”
He took note of my eyes, surely showing the signs of his possession.
“We’re even.”
He nipped my bottom lip with his sharpened fang, his monster having risen to the surface. Then licked the spot on a feral groan.
“Because I’m well past addicted to being inside you.”
He pressed the point home with a not-so-subtle grind of his groin against me.
Smiling, I ran my knuckles along his scruffy chin, back and forth. His eye slipped closed a moment too long, like a cat being petted to sleep.
“I’m not really what you’d call a damsel in distress.”
“I hate fucking damsels. Always in such distress. Who wants a high-maintenance girl like that?”
His usual joking tenor had returned, easing the tension for what we were up against next.
“You prefer a girl with less…needs?”
“That depends on the needs. I’m hoping she will have lots and lots of sexual needs. Those, I can tend to all night long.”
“Yes. As I am aware. You’ve proven this already.”
His caressing fingers on my back slid farther down to cup my cheek and pull me against him.
“I’ll prove it again.”
Sounding far too breathless and not at all lighthearted, I replied, “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Then let’s get this fucking show on the road so we can get it over with.”
With that, we were out the door and joined Nadya, waiting patiently just beyond the lantern light, the three of us sifting to Moscow where I was to battle and kill my first demoness.
Chapter Twenty
Dommiel
Standing in the back room of Odin Shans, hard music vibrating through the walls, I leaned against the closed steel door and stared down Skaal. Anya had removed her fur cape for his inspection, and he’d circled her—fucking twice—nodding his head in approval. I wanted to twist his head off and toss it against the stone wall.
“She’ll please.” He touched the steel wing guards molded along the shaft and arch of her wing, then he snapped his head up sharply to Nadya. “She’ll definitely please them.”
His icy gaze swiveled to me. He bore the countenance of a battle-hard warrior, his features angular, blade sharp. Only thing is, his angelic roots were clear as day in the perfect set of his jaw and eyes, the slant of his cheekbones. A high demon, for sure.
“Nice touch with the wing guards. That’ll bring their attention to her wings, give them a good show.”
Darkest Heart Page 18
