His Seductive Target (Afterlife, #2)

by Nichole Severn

  “No.” His vision darkened around the edges. The pain returned full force and urged him into an effortless sleep and possible death. It blossomed until he couldn’t think of anything other than relief. Stone rushed up to meet one full side of his body as he buckled. He was going into shock. He could barely track the Deceiver across his vision. “You...can’t have...her.”

  The Deceiver crouched beside him. Pristine tailor-made shoes reflected the fires burning around them. He wiped his neck with the back of his hand. No blood. No wound. Nothing to suggest he’d done a damn thing to protect the only person that’d mattered to him in his existence. An evil smile overtook the demon’s features. “I already do.”

  Nika.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The slide of the cardboard box across her desk spread coldness through her.

  Ten years on the force. Three of that as Detective. And for what?

  The weight of a few officers’ gazes settled between her shoulder blades. Nika dropped two granola bars, a dozen pens, and a single notepad with notes from prior cases into the box. Her sad little items barely covered the bottom of the box, let alone filled it. A laugh bubbled from between her lips. Grayson had called her granola bar sad and little back at the cabin.

  She locked her jaw tight. Damn it. She didn’t want to go there.

  She’d promised herself once she made it back to the cabin and drove down the mountain with her duffle bag, she wouldn’t look back. Mentally or physically. What a stupid promise. She stared down into the box, but really didn’t see the remnants of her career peppering the inside. Her hands wrung the handles carved into the side.

  Two days. Countless showers to get the memory of him out of her head, but she could still smell him on her, in her. The phantom weight of his touch climbed up her belly and between her breasts. A rough exhale rushed from her lungs, but his woodsy scent refused to leave. As though he’d become a part of her. Which was stupid. Because she hadn’t fallen for him. How could she fall for someone she didn’t even know? Couldn’t trust? Besides, he was the one who walked away. Well, vanished was more like it. No explanation. No excuses as to why he’d lied to her about who he really was. But she hadn’t exactly given him a chance either. Her fingers tingled—numb—from her clutch on the box, but not because she regretted her reaction back in that clearing. She pried her stiff grip from the cardboard and pressed both hands flat against her desk. Grayson had never hurt her. Even as the beast, he’d protected her first and foremost. But she couldn’t trust him again. Demons lied. They killed. It was their nature.

  “It’s about time, Russo.” Lieutenant Turner, all six feet of dark, sweat-slicked skin, sauntered forward in her peripheral vision. Tightness spread across her shoulder blades as she straightened. His light brown suit and white, stained dress shirt shifted around his massive form. He could’ve at least ironed out the wrinkles, the lazy bastard. “How long have I been telling you I wouldn’t let you back on the force? You finally came to your senses.”

  “Guess so, Lieutenant. You got what you wanted. I’m packing up the last of my stuff.” She dropped a pad of sticky notes into the box, the thump of paper and cardboard exceptionally loud in her head. The pressure of her peers watching her and Turner pooled anxiety in her gut. She didn’t have any reason to stick around, but couldn’t force her feet to move. Her gaze landed on Reynolds’s desk, now clean. No knickknacks. No files. NYPD had found his body. Her attention swiveled over Turner’s shoulder, to the morgue. Dr. Anderson stood at the top of the stairs, wide eyes locked on her. Had she done the autopsy yet? The coroner spun on her three-inch heels and headed down into her realm. Did she even remember what happened to the last victim who’d been killed by a demon? Nika swallowed back the bile working up her throat. She understood why Grayson had destroyed the evidence. The compulsion. Wouldn’t change a damn thing though. Demons would keep filling that morgue with bodies and she’d…what? What could she do to stop them?

  “Too bad about your partner, Russo,” Turner said. “Maybe the next time you decide to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, you won’t get the people you care about involved.”

  Nika snapped her attention to Turner. “What did you say?”

  His eyes flashed red and her heart dropped into her stomach. A smile distorted his features as he came in close. He leveraged his weight against the edge of her desk, his hand an inch from hers. A light hint of sulfur singed her lungs and clenched her insides. “You dragged Reynolds into this mess when you ignored my order not to investigate your sister’s murder. His blood is on your hands. I only hope your latest conquest survives your stubbornness.”

  Air caught in her throat. Grayson.

  “You’re a demon.” Son of a bitch. She should’ve known the asshole was one of them. Rage pierced through the confused and clouded thoughts of the last few days. She spun to face him and clamped both hands on his shoulders. Shoving with everything she had, she slammed Turner into the row of filing cabinets behind him. The jolt rocked through her. Papers floated down around them as she stared up into those red eyes. Uniforms from around the precinct closed in, but she didn’t give a damn. They could lock her up if they wanted, but she’d be gone before they had a chance to book her. Being a cop paid off in more ways than one. “If you lay a hand on Grayson, I swear to God I’ll spend the rest of my life making you pay—”

  “It’s not me you have to worry about, Russo.” He smiled down at her, hands resting at his sides. “Word is, my master’s making him pay for his deceit in the worst kind of ways. Because of you.”

  Her fingers clenched in Turner’s wrinkled jacket. No. Grayson, damn it. What had he been thinking going back to the Underworld? The dead bounty hunters in her apartment had sent the message loud and clear. The Deceiver wanted his head as much as he wanted hers. Unless… Her lips parted with a sharp inhale. Unless he’d turned himself over in hopes of saving her. Her stomach churned. Knowing Grayson, that sounded about right.

  “You’ll never get out of this.” Turner lowered his voice. “You’re surrounded. Your only option is surrender. Let me take you to the Deceiver and I won’t give the order to have your ass arrested for assaulting an officer. Save yourself the trip to Sing Sing, mortal.”

  “Haven’t you heard why your boss wants me dead?” She dug her fingernails into his shoulder and focused the rage-filled torrent inside into her hands. She locked her attention on those red eyes and fully gave herself to the power that coursed through her veins. Her shoulder wound burned hotter and hotter, but she didn’t let go. Heat and energy ate through his suit and connected with skin. Tendrils of smoke slid down her throat. “Because I have the power to destroy him. What do you think I can do to you? Now tell me how to get down there.”

  Turner snapped his eyes shut against the pain she inflicted into his shoulder, teeth bared. “You can’t. No one can. Not even me. The Deceiver has the whole Underworld shut down.”

  “And you wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Fine.” She dropped her hand as his back slid down the file cabinets. She collected the box from her desk and faced the uniforms—her coworkers and friends—as Turner collected himself from the floor. He wouldn’t have her arrested. Not if he wanted to live. “Well, it was nice working with all of you. Maybe we can do a barbeque or something.”

  Nobody answered. She nodded then headed toward the exit, box between her hands. She probably wouldn’t see an invite to the precinct picnic anytime soon, let alone a private barbeque, but it was a nice fantasy. Didn’t matter. She wouldn’t see any of the men or women she’d trusted with her life back in that room again. Too dangerous to keep a social life while on the hunt for demons.

  Smog and the smell of garbage assaulted her nostrils as Nika stepped through the main doors. She’d parked her SUV right in front in case she needed a fast get away. In reality, collecting her stuff had gone better than planned. She loaded her box into the back passenger seat and started the vehicle.
Time to get to work.

  She’d never hunted an angel before, let alone an Arch-angel, but she’d tracked an Arch-demon. There couldn’t be that much of a difference. The same skills she’d drilled into her head from her years as a detective still applied. She pulled into traffic and headed toward her apartment. The Arch-angel that’d tried removing Isabel’s infection from her shoulder had helped Grayson once. She had to believe Sorren would do it again. She breathed through the burning in her shoulder. God only knew what the Deceiver was doing to him. “You better be alive, damn it. Because it’ll be a lot harder if I have to drag you out of there.”

  Her gut clenched at the thought. No, he wasn’t dead. She’d know. Wasn’t that how love worked? She strengthened her hold around the steering wheel. What did she know about love? She’d fallen for a demon. “You’re such an idiot,” she said to herself.

  “Do you really love him?” a male voice asked from the passenger seat.

  “Holy shit!” Panic exploded as she jerked the steering wheel to the left. Car horns blared as she directed the SUV into oncoming traffic. With another quick pull, she steered back into her lane and slammed on the breaks. Her upper body shifted forward with the momentum then slammed into her seat. “What the hell!”

  Sorren’s green eyes glimmered with something along the lines of humor, but she found his amusement far from comforting. She’d been a cop for too long. “You were looking for me. I made your job easier. A ‘thank you’ would be nice.”

  “You can’t just appear out of thin air like that. I could’ve gotten us killed.” She fought to control her racing heartbeat. Oxygen struggled through her constricted larynx. Her fingers ached from her hold around the steering wheel.

  “It’ll take a lot more than that to kill either of us.” The humor spread across his features and she returned a weak smile with force. “I have to say, I’m a little surprised you called for me and that’s after having witnessed a demon ask for the Father’s help.”

  Grayson had asked for interference on her behalf. She rested the crown of her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. Now wasn’t the time for regret. Everything she’d said to him— thought of him—had been wrong. He sure as hell didn’t act like a demon. Cars honked behind her, but there was plenty enough room to go around this time of day. She opened her eyes and centered on Sorren. “You know, most cops don’t believe in God. Too much violence. With each case, we question what kind of creator would let something like that happen to one of his creations. That was why I was such a good detective. I didn’t let things like that get in the way of my cases.”

  “But you did with Rachel’s murder,” he said.

  Yes. And so much more.

  Nika swallowed hard, almost losing the determination fueling her need to find Grayson as the Arch-angel’s gaze collided with hers. “This isn’t just a homicide case I can solve anymore. So yeah, I have to question everything I thought was true and what I thought was myth. There are angels and demons, and—”

  “And love.” The sympathy in Sorren’s eyes bored through the protection she’d built when it came to the demon that’d betrayed her. How easily he’d brought Grayson to her mind when all she wanted to do was forget they’d ever met.

  No, that wasn’t true. He’d brought her to life like no adrenaline rush, suspect chase, or collar could. He’d forced her feel after she’d shut herself off from the world and her family. But how could she have fallen for something so like the monster that’d killed her sister? “Grayson’s a demon. He outright admitted he only came into my life because I was one of his targets. I can’t love him.” But she did. Completely. Willingly. She’d given herself to him without question and lost a piece of herself when he’d left. That hole in her defenses undid her now. As though her body craved to repair the damage that’d been done, she’d called on an Arch-angel to get her into Hell. For what? To be hurt again?

  “Then why am I here, Veranika?” Sorren asked.

  “I was just asking myself the same thing.” Countless times she’d confronted an armed suspect without backup and fallen into the same shock seconds before her instincts had kicked in. His penetrating study let her know he’d detect the lie forming on the tip of her tongue, but life had already been cut short for the two people she’d considered the most important. She couldn’t lie to him, couldn’t lie to herself anymore. There wasn’t time. No matter how hard she’d tried to convince herself otherwise, she’d fallen for a demon, the one she feared the most. “No matter what I think of him, Grayson doesn’t deserve to die because he didn’t hand me over to the Deceiver. I need to get him out of there. You can help me get in.”

  “You realize you’re asking me to break the rules. Angels aren’t allowed in the Underworld and demons are banished from setting foot in Heaven. It’s been the only way we’ve kept the peace as long as we have after the Great War above.” The sorrow etched into his soul emerged through those bright green eyes. “Even if it’s something we don’t agree with.”

  “I don’t care. He’s sacrificed enough to keep me out of the Deceiver’s hands and I’m not leaving him there to die.” She tightened her hold around the steering wheel again, but didn’t lift her foot from the brake. “You do what you have to, but all I need is for you to show me how to get there. Then you can go back to whatever it is Arch-angels do.”

  “Tell me something first.” Unnatural green eyes studied her features, as though searching for a chink in her armor. Nika let him. She had nothing left to hide, nothing left to lose. “Are you really willing to risk your life for one of the most feared demons in existence? Even if it means you don’t end up together in the end?”

  “Isn’t that the definition of love?” she asked without hesitation.

  Sorren’s lips parted. His expression crumbled as though she’d reminded him of something he’d lost. She’d only experienced such defeat one other time in her life and her heart dropped into her stomach. The last look in Grayson’s eyes resembled the Arch-angel’s and her stomach flipped.

  “Yes, it is.” Sorren faced the front of the car and closed his eyes, body relaxing. Seconds passed in dead silence. Even the blaring car horns and tire screeches from the line behind her took a sabbatical. Then a low hum reverberated through her bones. Starting in her feet, it vibrated up her legs and into her heart like a tuning fork. Blistering fire developed sweat across her brow and down her throat. Crests of power brushed against her senses, the overload of energy almost too much to handle. “What are you doing?”

  She didn’t miss the hint of fear coating her words.

  Coming out of his momentary trance, the Arch-angel wrapped his grip around her arm as the SUV shook around them. Or was it the entire block? Did it matter? “Changing your mind already?”

  “No.” She shook her head then connected with his gaze. Confidence shot through her, from where, she had no idea. But she wouldn’t leave Grayson to suffer alone. She needed him. The realization surged courage throughout her system. “If we die and I don’t get a chance to thank you, I’m saying it now.”

  “It’ll be okay.” Sorren curled his lips at the edges into a smile. “Just don’t let go of my hand. No matter what.”

  “Okay.” She gripped his hand tighter and took a deep, cleansing breath. Her stomach shot into her throat as the SUV, and New York City, vanished.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Hot wind beat against her skin. The sky was so red Nika had to blink several times to force her vision to adjust. Fires consumed everything in their paths in the distance, contributing to the crimson cloud cover as well as the water welling in her lower lids. Every building within sight had crumbled to nothing but bricks and mortar. Parked cars rusted alongside the road. She recognized this part of the New York City, but, at the same time, didn’t. The reality she recognized had been destroyed in this world.

  She tip-toed her way through the combination of debris and bodies that littered the road leading to the Deceiver’s massive fortress ahead. Thousands of them. As
though their skin had melted from the intense temperatures that tunneled through her clothing, these creatures had become unrecognizable as human. Thin as skeletons, yet solid.

  She dug her nails into her palm. Had Sorren already recovered Grayson? They’d split up almost the second they’d arrived in this crimson wasteland. Not enough time to come up with a better plan than for him to locate her demon and for her to serve as the distraction. She stepped over another sleeping demon. God only knew if she could even get to the throne room in one piece.

  A giant structure, the only building in Hell not modeled after the mortal world, lay ahead in the middle of the city. Sharp angles flew upward and formed buttresses, spires, and walls. Stained glass windows reflected the fiery sky. Like a cancer cell consuming its host. Black brick gleamed from the reflections of the fires nearby and pure fear flooded her system. She’d never seen something so beautiful and terrifying at the same time. Struggling with the enormity, she stared up into the juncture where the clouds met the construction.

  Had to keep going. Her erratic heartbeat thumped in rhythm to her steps. The doubt that clawed its way up her throat wouldn’t get to her. She’d been in worse situations. Though none of them this personal. But Grayson had risked his life for her and she’d return the favor. No matter how far she had to go. The scent of rot worked down into her system as she stopped short of the massive set of wooden doors. She took cover behind a turned over, rusted out sedan and crouched low. Six steps led to a platform that supported two demonic creatures. Guards. Their talons gleamed red as though permanently soaked in blood. Larger than Isabel’s true nature, they stood well over six feet with bone and armor covering their black hides. Each scoured their surroundings then inhaled deeply. She dug her fingernails into the hood of the car and swallowed hard.

  “Mortal,” the guards hissed in unison.

  So much for the element of surprise. Then again, her mission had been to distract the Deceiver while Sorren pulled Grayson out. She could do that.