by RS Black
She bit down with teeth that weren’t quite sharp enough to break through cleanly. He sucked in a sharp breath, holding her head steady against him. It wasn’t painful. In fact, the experience sent a jolt of adrenaline through him, making his heart pump faster and harder.
She came up only a moment later, but already he could see color returning to her skin. See it beginning to gleam again. A thin trail of blood coursed down the side of her lip.
He cleaned it up with his free thumb.
“Your wound,” she whispered, tracing her finger along the outer edge of his frayed skin.
“Will heal.” He started to bring his hand back to his side when she grabbed it again.
At first he thought she wanted to feed more, but instead she nuzzled his palm and gently licked at the wound. He shuddered and his thighs stiffened as desire raced a mad course through his veins. With one final brush of her lips she eased back, the wound was sealed, and the flesh was smooth once more.
“I will get you out of here,” he grunted.
“Why, because instinct tells you to? Rion, please tell me it’s all a lie. Please tell me it’s not true. That you don’t really recognize me as your mate.”
“Then I won’t. But you will leave here tonight.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I won’t. I can’t.”
“You have to.”
“I’m not strong enough yet.” She cupped his cheek. “But I vow to you that I will leave tomorrow.”
His lashes fluttered and finally he could breathe. It didn’t matter what came tomorrow, the torments he’d be forced to pay, and he would pay them. She’d leave on his watch. But she needed to go and never come back.
They left that sanctuary in silence.
And each step back into the pit of Hell made him feel more and more helpless, but also more and more sure that he was making the right choice. Her mark faded so fast that soon they’d all know who she was.
Her truth could not be revealed. They could never know who she really was. If they did, and they ever captured her again, they’d keep her chained so deep beneath the earth she’d never leave again.
Keaton would never stop then.
For years his one desire had been to control a warrior of the Hyperion race. Arabella would never be safe from him again. Her safety came only from their continued ignorance.
He sat her down gently on the bed, his gaze speaking words he could no longer freely say.
She didn’t move, simply stared back at him. Her eyes so lovely, so huge in her birdlike face. It did not seem possible that this fragile woman could be the deadly lethal creature he knew her kind to really be.
A fat tear rolled steadily down her cheek as she said, “Shifter, you put your faith in the wrong people.”
Walking back down the hall toward chow, Orion couldn’t shake the feeling that behind her words of caution lingered a threat.
There was nothing she could do for him now. His fate would be sealed the moment it was revealed that he’d helped her escape. But his course was set.
Instinct alone guided him now.
Tomorrow, this would all be over.
~*~
One day later
The time had come for Arabella to make her move. He would never forgive her. Closing her eyes, she smiled as the warmth of him flowed through her.
Orion’s taste was pure. His essence divine.
Know your own darkness. Only then can you learn the darkness of others...
Azzazale was right. As always.
Arabella stood before the window, staring at the sky. Her desires torn in two. Desire for her people, her skies. And desire for a beast who’d shown her not only kindness, but his soul.
She forged a path tonight she could never undo.
In an hour, the President of the United States of America would walk past her door. Would peer inside and smile coldly as the prize her most valued General had squirreled away from the rest of the world sat meek and lowly before her.
The Triad wanted a warrior. An angel to use to do their bidding. Her race was more akin to the harpy of Greek lore, but it mattered not to the Triad. Because perception was reality.
The Triad was run by demons. Three of the Seven deadly sins—Envy, Lust, and Wrath—they didn’t work for the government of the United States, they weren’t loyal to the people or the constitution—those were all such pretty lies.
They cared nothing for such trivialities. Their end goal, their only truth, was their release from Hell. Since the moment of their banishment and imprisonment they’d done nothing but conspire for their release. Lying to humans, monsters, even themselves.
Only those in the upper reaches of the Triad really knew the truth, what all the scheming was for; the Triad wanted the Hyperion so that they owned an army of angels to do their bidding.
It’s why when she was sent here she’d hidden her warrior status with the rune. But the mark was fading fast, and Orion’s blood was helping her to check the wildness, but only a little.
A very little.
She tipped her head back, the light of the moon bathing her face. She only had to hang on for a few minutes more and then she could unleash it. She could do what she’d been sent to do.
Orion had played his role to perfection. Her unwitting accomplice. Instrumental in getting her moved to this floor in the compound. A floor which it was deemed safe for the President to tour. In feeding her just enough blood to unleash the predator inside, giving her the strength she needed for the final battle that lay ahead.
But he’d also given her more. The truth of his people. Why the shifters, who were formidable foes, fought as they did. Aligning themselves with the devils. Their allegiance only so because of their need to protect what they loved most.
Family.
All she would have to do to weaken the beast that was the Triad was to expose that truth to her people. And unlike the Triad, the Hyperion wouldn’t bother to blackmail or coerce the shifters into an alliance the way the Triad had; her people would simply strike at the demon lords’ hearts.
The Hyperion would eradicate the Ozark pack, and all other packs even suspected to be like them.
Orion’s pack couldn’t be the only one as it was. There had to be others. In one fell swoop, they could weaken the Triad to such an extent that they could possibly set this eternal war back several decades as the ruling demon lords of Hell lost what’d taken them eons to build.
She could be her people’s savior.
But not just for her people.
She could be the savior of thousands, millions. It would be a blow to the heart of the dragon, one they might possibly never recover from.
And it would all start tonight. With the assassination of the President. She would do her duty, return to her people, and betray the only one within these walls who’d shown her true kindness.
Azzazale would scoff at her for this weakness. What was one to millions, he would say.
Furious, she turned aside, slapping her palm on her desk, bending over and breathing heavily.
They all believed her to be so weak. And yes, she was. But not for long. The mark had faded this morning. She licked her sharpened canines. Soon blood would spill down her throat.
Soon she’d return to her people.
The nightmare ended.
Arabella shuffled over to the edge of her bed. The mattress squeaked when she sat, the echo of it ringing in her ears as she stared at nothing.
Lost in a trancelike state, she never realized how much time had passed, until she heard the footsteps headed down the hall.
They would kill Orion. They would know what’d happened, and they would kill him.
Her hunger grew sharp, more visceral, even as the choking bile of betrayal wedged itself in her throat.
The lock in the door turned and she glanced up in time to see them. Her room filled with twelve bodies.
In front stood the President. Her hair was swept back in a graceful blond bun. A pencil skirt fell to just
below her knees. Her hands were clasped in front of her.
She was the epitome of grace and power, looking at the creature that was Arabella with ruthless eyes. Strong in her conviction of Bella’s weakness, and her guards strength. Just behind her stood Keaton, wearing a small, cold smile.
She could read the victory in his eyes. The pride of ownership.
Behind them, in unerringly straight lines, stood the guards. Guns holstered, they gazed at her with their cruel, unflinching gazes.
Except for one.
Orion stood among them. And she knew he knew. Knew how she would escape. What she would do. He would try to help. She also read that in his eyes. In his body language. The way his fingers hovered close to the butt of his pistol more than the others.
He awaited her move.
But Orion was wrong. Because he thought she’d swoop in for Keaton. He knew of her hatred, knew she wanted him to die.
Her mission tonight was simple. Assassinate the President and leave. Her orders had been very clear.
But he would die. Anyone who survived tonight without a grievous enough wound would die for conspiring to murder. All that she thought in less than a minute.
“As you can see”—Keaton lifted his hand—“this bird is little more than a useless serf, but we’ve hope that by studying her further, we can unlock the secrets of the warrior and perhaps, with a little genetic modifications, create an army to make the world tremble.”
The President smirked. “You would talk like this in front of her?”
Keaton sniffed. “She is nothing more than a human with wings. She is powerless to stop this. Aren’t you, little bird?”
Arabella stood. The beast inside her was alive. She was a warrior. She was a monster.
“Madam President,” she spoke, “it is good to see you after all this time. I thought this day would never come.”
“What?” Fear glittered immediately in her eyes and she took a step back, the shifters all gathered round, forming a tight band.
Orion pulled out his weapon. But he wasn’t pointing it at Arabella. He still didn’t know.
Arabella locked it down.
The emotion. The need. The pain. She wrapped chains around it and threw it into the bottomless abyss of darkness, a place where she didn’t think, didn’t grieve, didn’t worry.
She was a warrior and it was time to fight.
With a roar, she rushed the guards, moving like a streak as she cut between the bodies and ripped the President from their protection. She sank her fangs into the woman’s neck and ripped her throat out.
Bullets sprayed then.
But it was too late.
Arabella had feasted on the blood of her enemy. Until the blood was out of her system, she was invincible.
She tossed the President aside, then grabbed Keaton, who tried to escape, and savagely attacked his neck, doing to him what she’d done to the President.
Bullets flew in every direction, spraying her in the face, the abdomen, the chest, bleeding her. But she wouldn’t die. It hurt like a mother, but she wouldn’t die, nor would she grow weak. Not while she continued to feast on them.
One after another, she killed, tearing off heads, as it was the only way to kill a turned shifter.
The compound went on lockdown. Lights flashed and noises blared over the loudspeakers, commanding all able-bodied guards to come. Soon her floor would be overrun and as powerful as she was, sheer numbers could take her down.
Orion gazed at her with huge eyes, shaking his head as she advanced on him.
He never pleaded for his life, or begged her to stop. Never reminded her of the conversation they’d had yesterday.
She snapped her wings open, hiding them from view of the cameras, and leaned into his ear to whisper, “I am truly more sorry than you will ever know, Rion.”
She traced her knuckle down his cheek and flinched when she felt the wetness of a tear, his tear, mingle with the blood of her foes on her hand.
“Know that I do this now to protect you as you protected me. I will not let you die, and I will not betray your pack. They will be safe, Rion, as you soon will be.”
Then with a cry, she grabbed his hand and pulled.
He howled as she tore it off. Blood spurted hot onto her face as he slid to the floor.
He’d die in less than ten minutes with a wound that severe if they didn’t get him to medical immediately. She dropped to her knees, framing his face. So many words were heavy on her tongue, but none of them came out. She didn’t want to leave him like this, bleeding out, with the possibility of his death hovering so closely.
But there was no choice, no more options. She’d done all she could to ensure his survival.
High on the blood of her enemies, Arabella turned and punched through her window, jumped out and, with a war cry, sailed into the night and back for home.
The mission complete.
About RS Black
RS Black is the pen name for a NY Times and USA Today bestselling author. She’s written the Night series because she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the summer carnival she worked for as a high school senior that she swore was inhabited by much more than just regular carnies. She’s got an active imagination that she loves to share with the world. If you’d like to know more about her books, make sure to sign up for her Newsletter! Or, if you’d like to talk shop with her and a bunch of other really cool people, come hang out with her in her private little spot on the web, the Harem. If none of those suit you and you just want to drop her a quick note you can write to her at [email protected]
