Knight's Salvation (Knights of Hell Book 2)

by Sherilee Gray

  “Yes. I would love that.” His wings were tucked into his back, the tips sitting high above his shoulders. “But first, would you let me touch your wings?”

  To her surprise, he dipped his head. “Zenon? What’s wrong? If you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

  When he looked up, his cheeks were flushed. He looked embarrassed, shamed. “Why would you want to? They’re not…they’re not soft like the others’. Most find them…disgusting.”

  “They’re part of you. How could they be disgusting? I think they’re beautiful.” She stepped closer and reached up, running her palm down the outer edge. He sucked in a breath. “Can you feel that?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

  “No.” He frowned. “It feels good.”

  “Really?” He nodded, and she moved behind him, brushing her fingers down the center, along the inner curve. He shuddered and moaned softly. “They feel warm and so smooth.” She came back to his front and slid her arms around his waist. “Your wings are amazing, unique. Like you.”

  His gaze darkened. “Thank you.”

  “You don’t need to thank me. Not for doing something that gives you pleasure. Nothing makes me happier, Zenon. Nothing.”

  He cupped the side of her face, brushed his thumb across her jaw, and kissed her. And when she was almost dizzy from the way he worshipped her mouth, he scooped her up in his arms and took flight.

  She squealed in surprise, and he laughed, a wonderful carefree sound that warmed the center of her chest. “Hold tight,” he said against her ear. “I’m about to give you the ride of your life.”

  Later that night on patrol, Zenon stood on a rooftop in the middle of the city and struggled to stay focused.

  Mia had liked his wings.

  A shiver moved through him when he remembered the way it felt having her hands on them, when she slid her fingers over their leathery surface. Helena hated his wings. She thought they were ugly. Mia didn’t, though—she said they were beautiful. Were they? Fucked if he knew. He’d always hated that they were another thing that made him different. But after today, the way she’d looked at them and touched them, he was glad they were the way they were, that they were different. She wasn’t the first to touch them, but she was the first to put her hands on them to give him pleasure not pain.

  But then Mia had been giving him nothing but pleasure since she showed up.

  He missed her. He’d only been away from her for a matter of hours and already he missed her.

  He forced himself to focus back on the demon he’d been watching for the last ten minutes, when the guy turned suddenly and crossed the street, moving in Zenon’s direction. The demon ignored the honks, didn’t flinch or slow when several cars swerved, narrowly missing him. Nope, he kept coming like he was taking a damn Sunday stroll. When there was nothing but brick wall in front of him he stopped and looked up, right at Zenon, and waved.

  What the fuck?

  Shifting into his Kishi demon form, Zenon stepped off the side between two buildings, letting his wings catch the wind before he reached the alley floor below. He landed in a crouch, and the demon with a death wish appeared at the mouth of the alley a moment later.

  He met the other male’s glazed-eyed, vacant stare. “What do you want?”

  “I have a message for you, knight,” the demon said.

  This was way too close to home, too close to the compound and too close to Mia.

  Zenon moved in, Rocco at his side. The heavy steel door was closed, but that didn’t stop the low, muted beats thumping through the warehouse walls and echoing around the secluded lots.

  Zenon turned to Rocco. The knight’s face was cast in shadow, making him look sinister as fuck. “What the hell is this?”

  “Hope you’re wearing your dancing shoes, brother. Looks like we’re going to a rave,” Rocco said.

  He had no idea what a fucking rave was but he didn’t like the sound of it. “I don’t dance.”

  “No shit.” Rocco scanned the area around them. “You sure this is the place?”

  “I guess I could have the address wrong. The fucker was choking on his own blood when I asked him to repeat it.”

  Rocco snorted.

  Zenon hadn’t planned on killing the demon, but as soon as he’d delivered his message he’d gone for his blade. The guy had basically committed suicide, forced to try and fight Zenon against his will. Because no demon was stupid enough to take him or one of his brothers on alone.

  “I don’t sense any demons here.”

  “Me either.”

  They both knew this was some kind of setup, and had left Kryos and Lazarus back at the compound in case that had been the ultimate target.

  “Gunner and Chaos should’ve secured the rear exit by now. Let’s go.”

  Pulling their weapons, Zenon opened the door and they stepped inside.

  Bright flashing strobe lights blinded him immediately. He lifted his arm to shield his eyes. The room was submerged in darkness then bathed in fluorescent light at a speed that would make anyone dizzy. With each flash, he caught a glimpse of the packed warehouse. Humans filled the huge space, moving to the terrible music pumping through the room so loud he couldn’t hear anything else.

  Someone knocked into him. A human female grabbed onto his arm, mouth wide in a scream, silenced by the repetitive, blaring music. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her and blood bubbled up her throat, pouring down her chin. The female’s knees gave out and she fell to the floor.

  That’s when he saw the truth of what was happening around him. The humans weren’t dancing. They were being massacred. Each flash of light revealed people running, screaming. Blood was everywhere, coating the walls, the floor under his boots.

  Rocco grabbed his arm and his mouth moved rapidly, but Zenon couldn’t hear a word. They moved in, tried to help, to fight, but it was near impossible. Without the ability to sense the demons in the room, he didn’t know who to kill.

  Then suddenly it all stopped. The strobe stopped flashing and they were cast in utter darkness. The eerie silence lifted the hair on the back of his neck. Then the lights came on and Zenon got his first proper look at the carnage around him.

  Bodies littered the floor, not one human alive, and the demons that had slaughtered them stood motionless, unresponsive, coated in blood.

  Rocco cursed repeatedly while he searched in vain for survivors.

  Chaos and Gunner moved toward them from the other side of the room, stepping over what remained of the humans lured there, and met them in the middle.

  Gunner rubbed his hands over his whiskered jaw. “Message well and truly received.”

  Yeah, no one could miss it. These guys were powerful, organized…and fucked in the head.

  Rage hardened Chaos’s face, and ice shot from his intense, dark gaze. “How the fuck do we fight this when something or someone is blocking them? We need to find the source, discover who’s controlling them.”

  Zenon couldn’t agree more. “First things first. We need to clean this up.”

  “Burn it to the ground.” Chaos glanced at the still motionless demons dotted around the room. “Leave them inside.”

  Back at the compound, Rocco motioned Zenon to follow him into his bathroom and started pulling first aid supplies out of the cupboard. He’d taken a knife wound in the warehouse and hadn’t even noticed.

  “So what’s going on between you and Mia?” Rocco asked.

  They’d talked in circles after they’d left the warehouse and come up with nada. Everyone was stressed to shit, so he wasn’t surprised by Roc’s need for another line of conversation right then. But Mia sure as hell wasn’t it.

  Zenon looked at Rocco and cocked a brow.

  The other knight dropped his gaze and threaded a needle with surgical nylon like a pro. “You ever wonder what it’s like—the mating, I mean?”

  Yes. Far more than he should. He didn’t say that, though. Instead he shook his head.

&nb
sp; “Laz, Kryos, the way they describe it…the little they’ve shared, anyway.” He lifted his gaze to Zenon. “Fuck, it gives me goose bumps, makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. That’s just from hearing them talk about it. How can something be that good?”

  Zenon shook his head. “I’ve never heard them talk about it,” he admitted.

  Rocco’s brows shot up. “You know how it goes down, though, yeah?”

  Zenon shook his head again. He’d always avoided those conversations.

  Rocco started cleaning around the cut with an antiseptic wipe. “They say there’s this thread, or spark or a light, or whatever, but that you’ll know when you see it. That while you’re taking her, it appears. Only we can see it.” His voice had grown deeper. “All we have to do is reach for it, take hold. That’s what binds you to her and her to you.” He cleared his throat. “Laz, shit, not even Kryos could find the words to describe how it feels in that moment.” He looked up from what he was doing. “Sounds good, right?”

  It sounded better than good. And hearing what he would miss out on, what he couldn’t have, yeah, it hurt more than any damn knife wound.

  But he didn’t miss the look in Roc’s eyes, something he hadn’t seen before. And he didn’t think this line of conversation was just about him and Mia. “What’s going on? Is this about that waitress you can’t keep away from?”

  Rocco sucked in a breath then surprised Zenon by saying, “Yeah, actually.” He grinned. “She’s mine. She’s my mate.”

  Damn. That, he was not expecting. “She know?”

  “Not yet. Soon, though. She hasn’t come into her powers yet. Still, I felt her, felt that connection almost instantly. I didn’t know that could happen, but there’s no mistaking it.”

  “You gonna bring her in?”

  Rocco shook his head and dropped his gaze back to Zenon’s wound. “She’s hellsgate.”

  “Fuck.”

  “She has the Beast’s mark, like Eve did.”

  Zenon took in Rocco and didn’t miss the stress on his face. “What are you going to do?”

  Roc shook his head. “She’s safe for now. And I’m being careful, making sure none of Diemos’s minions are watching us. I just…I can’t risk bringing her in before she transitions and we’re mated, not after what happened with Eve, with our brothers.” He lifted his head, gaze meeting Zenon’s. “Right now, there’s no way for Diemos or any of his army to sense her, not before she gains her powers. And when that happens, I’ll be right there with her. They will not touch her.”

  Zenon dipped his chin. Eve was hellsgate, and before her and Laz mated things had gotten seriously fucked up. Roc had almost attacked Eve, and Zenon hadn’t been far behind him. Until Rocco mated his female there was the risk that could happen again.

  “You change your mind about Mia?” Rocco asked him.

  “No.”

  His course was set. Nothing could change that. He knew what he was doing with Mia was wrong and unbelievably selfish, but he couldn’t stop it, not yet.

  The other warriors knew Mia was staying with him, and more than likely assumed he’d changed his mind about making her his mate.

  He never wanted them to know the truth about him, what he did to survive. Even if they did know, nothing could be done. Not even Silas, a powerful angel, could save his ass.

  “Brace, brother, ’cause this shit’s gonna sting.” Roc pressed open the knife wound to the front of his shoulder then poured what felt like liquid fire into the four-inch gash.

  He jolted, gritted his teeth, dug his fingers into the sink behind him to stay upright, and with serious effort managed not to snarl.

  He usually took care of his own injuries, but the awkward position meant he had to ask for help. He hated asking for help. Their bodies healed on their own pretty fast, but a knife wound like his would take longer without a helping hand.

  Roc squeezed the sides together and got stitching. By the time he’d finished, Zen’s patience had dissolved, and though it wasn’t Rocco’s fault he got stuck with a knife, he was ready to knock the guy’s head off his shoulders.

  “You done?” The loss of blood had weakened him, used precious energy he didn’t have to spare. It was only a matter of time before the pain would swamp his limbs, before he was a living, breathing ball of agony.

  “Yes and you’re welcome.”

  Zenon grunted. “Yeah, thanks.”

  Roc finished taping him up and handed over his shirt. “You all right, man? You look kinda pale.”

  Zenon gave him a “well, duh” look then tucked his shirt in the back of his jeans. No way was he getting it back on tonight, and not just because of the five stitches Roc had decorated him with either. His skin burned, throbbed. The familiar sensation never got easier, no matter how many times it happened.

  He turned to Rocco before he walked out the door. “Good luck, man.”

  Rocco held his gaze. “You, too, brother.”

  By the time he got back to his apartment, it was two in the morning and he thanked God Mia wouldn’t be awake to see him like this again.

  He kicked off his boots and with shaking hands tugged the denim down his legs, unable to bear the rough fabric against his skin. He needed a shower, but there was no time for that now. He should sleep on the couch, but he needed to see her, to feel her by his side. He didn’t want to suffer this alone anymore. Even if she didn’t know it was happening.

  In the past when he’d pushed the time between his visits to Helena and it got really bad, there was always the thought in the back of his mind that maybe he’d left it too long, that maybe he wouldn’t come out of it this time. Sometimes the thought was a welcome one, but not tonight.

  The room was dark, but he could see her body silhouetted under the covers, could hear the slow measured sound of her breathing, a sound he’d grown accustomed to. Couldn’t fucking sleep without. She’d been with him little over a week, and in that week she’d burrowed so damn deep it was frightening. He knew when the time came he’d feel her absence like a missing limb, like a part of him had been ripped away.

  Pulling back the sheet as carefully as his trembling hands would allow, he climbed in beside her.

  Moments later, everything came crashing down around him. This time was bad, worse than usual. That bitch hadn’t given him jack shit, had held back again so he’d be forced to return to her sooner. That, along with the blood loss he’d suffered, was gonna make for a messy night.

  Then it all became too much and he concentrated on closing down his mind, trying to disengage from the rest of his body. He focused on Mia, on the sound of each subtle inhalation. Convinced himself that he could feel the heat from her body pressed against his, even though he knew he lay on the other side of the bed, far enough way so he wouldn’t wake her.

  He closed down his senses, focusing on one thing: getting through this—just one more time. Because this time Mia waited on the other side. Closing his eyes, he zoned out as best he could, letting wave after wave of agony take him away.

  When he was pulled from the darkness the first time, he was aware of the warmth surrounding him. Gentle heat seeped through his skin, crept into his limbs and began to ease the deep ache racking his body. He’d been cold, so very cold. He didn’t know how many hours had passed, but finally he felt like he could draw breath.

  Then he was sucked back under.

  When he came around the second time, it felt like he’d been asleep for years. His lids were heavy, his eyes scratchy. Opening them in that moment seemed impossible. But his muscles ached in a pleasant way, kind of like they did after a serious workout and a long hot shower. And then he heard her—Mia.

  Her voice was soft, close. She was talking to him. He couldn’t make out most of the words, but the tone was one you’d use on someone you cared about, someone important.

  Finally, his other senses followed, easing back to life. And oh God, she was pressed against him, her soft curves molded to his front, her arms wrapped around his wai
st. Her face was buried against his throat, and she murmured softly, causing her warm lips to brush against his skin. It tickled, making his scalp tingle.

  Yeah, it was pretty much the best moment of his entire life.

  During his time in Hell, or when he was with his mistress he disconnected, didn’t want to feel. Feeling anything was bad. But with Mia—shit, it was like his world had moved from black and white to vibrant color.

  Still out of it, he only managed to pick up the odd word she was saying. But what he did hear made his gut tighten and his heart seize. They were words no one had ever said to him before, words he never thought he would ever hear, not directed his way. Emotion swamped him with a strength he struggled to process. Mia was warming him, soothing him—taking care of him.

  Like he mattered.

  She cared about him. No one had ever cared about him, not like this.

  Shit, he was close to crying like a fucking pussy again.

  “You back with me?” she whispered against his ear.

  He shivered and tried to speak, but his voice came out nothing but a croak.

  “Shh, don’t try to talk yet.” She tightened her hold on him and he sucked in a breath to calm his shit down. Mia had twice seen him at his weakest, but no way would she see him sobbing because someone finally gave a fuck.

  He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m…I’m good.” The stuttering probably didn’t do much to convince her of that.

  “It happened again, didn’t it? Like last time?”

  “Yeah.”

  She lifted up, and he rolled to his back so she was looking down at him. She bit her lip when her gaze landed on the dressing covering the front of his shoulder. “You’re hurt.”

  “Just a scratch. It’ll be gone in a couple of days.”

  She nodded, trusting him to tell her the truth. That equally pleased him and made him feel like an asshole all at the same time. “Can you tell me why this keeps happening?”

  He owed her some kind of explanation, something after all she’d done for him. “I was born in Hell, Mia. Yeah, I’m made up of the same basic DNA as the others, but I’m still different…I’m more demon than angel.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “But that’s not even it. Something mutated when I was growing in that bitch who birthed me. Earth lacks something I need to survive. Over time the pain steadily grows worse until I’m forced to…” He struggled to find the right word. “…recharge. Then the cycle starts all over again.”