Chapter Nine
Dommiel
Axel had his second and third in command on either side of his candy for the night—a redhead and a brunette.
“Gustav. Wolfrick.”
No matter their casual attire of ripped jeans and black T-shirts, I knew they kept ether-laced daggers in their boots and wide belts. Just like I did. My old friend was well protected with these two. I remembered how they looked the first time I’d seen them among a horde of Visigoths, swinging iron blades like the fierce barbarians they were. Even now, after all this time under the reign of Axel, who’d turned them demon, they held the same aura of wild heathens. I half expected Wolfrick to yank out his battle-ax and bare his teeth, though him playing the guitar in their band looked about the same.
“Hey, bruder.” Wolfrick grinned, his permanently extended canines protruding. “Didn’t know you were still alive.” His gaze switched to Anya. “Hallo, meine Liebe.” He winked, crooning huskily.
“She’s not your honey, Wolfrick.” I cast him an annoyed but menacing glare.
Gustav laughed. “Ya. Heard that dickhead King Henry had you dragged to Erebus to be eaten slowly in the dragon pit.”
“That prick wishes.” I grunted. “He’s got a better chance at finding his way into Elysium than he does finding me.”
They all laughed at that, then I aimed the next at Axel. “We need to talk. Alone.”
Axel’s half smile disappeared. He squeezed the redhead on his left closer, whispering in her ear before nuzzling her cheek. Then he did the same to the brunette on his right. In unison, they lifted off the sofa and pranced past us toward the stairwell, both eyeing Anya at my side.
Axel stood. “Guys, why don’t you go get warmed up?”
Not only were they his personal bodyguards, but also his guitarist and drummer in Metallkopf.
Metalhead in English.
“Stick around, Dom.” Wolfrick stood, the chain belt at his waist jingling, his heavy boots echoing on the stone floor as he walked on. “We’ve got a killer set coming up.”
I nodded without verbal agreement, no intention of staying longer than necessary.
Once they were down the stairs, Axel leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Tell me why the fuck you’d show up here. Have you lost your goddamn mind?”
I took a seat on the sofa opposite him, settling the chain attached to Anya between us. She sat as well. Axel followed her movements.
Rather than address her, he pierced me with that brotherly stare. “Verdammte Scheiße,” he swore in his colorfully obscene German. “King Henry is out to drag you down below for good. Any one of those assholes down there who recognizes you could summon a prince here. Or their hunters.”
I stifled a laugh. Ironic that angel hunters were now hunting me, the notorious demon lord who dared to stand against his betters.
“We won’t be here long enough.”
Axel’s gaze slid to Anya before he offered his hand. “Forgive him, lovely. He has no manners. You are?”
She paused for a moment, then extended her hand into his. “Anya.”
“Anya,” Axel drawled slowly. “Du bist wunderschön.” Then he shifted back to me. “How the hell did you get her?”
He told her she was very beautiful in his smooth, charming way. Axel never needed essence to lure women into his lap. They just fell there at the hypnotic pull he seemed to have. He’d retained some of his charm over the years, whereas I’d become harder, more arrogant, more jaded. I was more than pleased to see that Anya had no reaction to his charms. A simple nod at the compliment, but then her protest made my spine stiffen.
“We aren’t together…like you think.”
“It’s not as it appears,” I clarified in more growl than words. “The collar is for show. For safety.”
“I got that. But that doesn’t explain the tension between you two sexing up my VIP section.” He grinned at Anya. “You should take care of that, love.”
I couldn’t agree more. That time, she didn’t protest. A satisfied purr hummed in my chest, but he was right. We needed to get what we came for and get out of here.
“I need to know everything you know about the witch Lisabette. The one bound to Prince Vladek.”
His expression sobered again, twisting into a scowl, his dark eyes flaring red.
“Why the fuck do you need to know about her?”
“The less you’re involved, the better.”
Leaning back against the sofa, he spread his inked arms across the back, the stem of a red rose wrapped around the barrel of a revolver on his biceps most prominent. The tribute to his favorite rock band. “She’s a nasty, vicious bitch. You don’t want to mess with her.”
“I have no plans of messing with her. Just taking back something she stole.”
Axel shook his head. “Bro. You’ll get your ass dragged to hell in a heartbeat.”
“Not if you give me good intel.”
Wolfrick tuned his guitar onstage. Axel stood and pulled the bandana from his head, combing a hand through his long hair. He paced to the edge of the balcony, twisted, and paced back.
“You’ll go anyway,” he accused. “Won’t you?”
“Of course I will.” I shrugged. “You know me.”
“Fine.” He heaved a sigh. “She’s Vladek’s number one concubine in his witch harem. He’s given her extensive powers of his own. Well beyond sifting. She can conjure her own essence and has even created one demon spawn of her own. Two hellhounds.”
“Wait. She’s a lower demon. Witches can’t create their own spawn.”
“Lisabette can. She’s powerful in black magic. Beyond any witch alive.”
“Do you know her exact location? Does she live in Vladek’s palace?”
“No. But nearby. She has a palace of her own across the Russian border in Estonia,” he sneered.
“How do we get in?” asked Anya.
Axel stared at her a second. “Getting in isn’t the problem. It’s getting out.” He glanced back toward the stage as Gustav drummed a quick beat to warm up. “The only way out may be to pay her price. And she doesn’t care for jewels or drakuls or any shit like that. She enjoys power. And living playthings.”
Anya made a small sound of distress. She must be thinking of her archangel. An unwanted emotion flared in my chest, clawing like a monster. A green-eyed one. I ignored it.
“I’m going to send you to someone who knows her up close and personal. Tell her Axel sent you. She’ll give you all the information you need.”
I stood as Axel placed his palm to my forehead, pressing a specific location into my memory. Our age-old blood vow made it easy to transfer information and images through touch. When our world shattered and war erupted in Elysium millennia ago, he was the one who stayed and fought at my side. He was the one who’d kept me from falling too far into the darkness when the one I’d loved most had cut me deep.
When he dropped his hand to my shoulder, he said, “Her name is Nadya.” He gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Take care, bruder. Some dangerous demons are after you.”
“I know.”
Then he leaned even closer. “Take the angel soon. Looks like she’d be worth the burn.” He clapped my shoulder with a laugh and jogged toward the stairwell.
The bastard knew me too well. Knew I was planning her seduction. But there would be pain for us both if we wanted the pleasure. The clash of our powers, dark and light, when I connected on that base level would sting like fuck. Or so I was told. And yet I wanted to bury my cock inside her anyway. Wanted to feel the agony of it burn through me.
Anya stood from the sofa, holding the excess weight of her chain. “You are blood brothers.”
I walked to the balcony edge, pulled a brimstone cigarette from my case, lit it, while watching Axel leap onto the stage to a roar of applause from the throng below.
“Not like you think. We share a blood bond by choice.”
She moved to my side, watching their final tune-up as Axel grabbed a microphone.
“You seem very close. You knew each other before the Fall?”
This was a line of questioning I didn’t want to follow. Memories best kept buried deep. But I blew out a stream of gold-gray smoke and answered anyway. “Before.”
Her gaze was on me. She sensed the tension rolling off me. I didn’t want to remember, but something compelled me to tell Anya more. To give her more of me.
“Axel saved me when someone I trusted most betrayed me before the Fall.” I snorted with disgust. “And you know the rest of that story. Hell. Fire. Blood.”
The damnation of our souls.
With a slow riff on the electric guitar, the crowd roared, then simmered as the room darkened and a spotlight shone down on Axel. His eyes closed, he began singing one of his favorites. My poor friend truly was stuck in the eighties. Scorpion’s slow, sensual melody “I’m Still Loving You” reverberated with the hypnotic power of his voice.
“His real name is Gavreel,” I admitted, pointing with my hand holding the cigarette.
Her gaze was still on me. “He gave up his real name. But you did not.” She put her hand on my forearm. “Why did you keep yours?”
Her violet-blue eyes glowed in the semi-dark. “I’ve never wanted to be someone else.” Gripping her chain near the collar, I moved into her space. “And I won’t let anyone take from me what’s mine.”
Sultry words about fighting for love and breaking down walls for a woman filtered in the heady, sex-laced air. I didn’t have to drop my gaze below to see couples grinding, some fucking on the dance floor to Axel’s love song.
Without releasing my gaze, she said, “Your friend is a romantic.”
“Indeed. A sad, sentimental fool.”
“To believe in love makes him a fool?”
“Love doesn’t exist.”
A frown marred her porcelain face. I eased myself in front of her, my back to the balcony, my legs bracketing either side of hers.
“It does exist,” she whispered, still allowing me to maneuver my body close to hers.
Gripping her hip with my metal hand, I slid two fingers under the hem of her fitted shirt, finding skin. Never more had I appreciated Bone’s special gifts, having infused sensory technology with her magic in the metal. I tugged on the chain with my other hand, pulling her closer, focusing on the dilation of her pupils, the quickening of her pulse, and her unconsciously parted lips.
“Stop dreaming, angel,” I murmured low and deep. “The world has already gone to hell. Angels and demons fight for themselves. No one else. That bullshit called love exists in fairy tales and movies. Not in real life. And definitely not in our fucked-up world.”
“I don’t believe that.”
She sounded close to panic. Because of what I said or because of my intimacy, I wasn’t sure. Either way, my instinct was to soothe her.
“Shhh.” I eased closer, desperation clawing in my gut. “Open your mouth and inhale what I’m giving to you.”
She frowned but then I took a deep drag of the cigarette and leaned down, hovering so close I could feel the heat from her parted lips. Hard rock vibrated the whole goddamn place, but all I could see or feel was this angel’s face and the magnetic pull jolting me toward her with the force of a polar catastrophe.
Holding her gaze, an expectant tension drawing tight, I blew in a soft, steady stream of smoke. The violet in her eyes swamped with black, dilating with the sensual sweep of brimstone. And perhaps my nearness.
Reeling from the heady high I knew she experienced, a virgin to demon-laced stimulants, she gasped. The sweet and sexual sound punching me in the gut. She was most definitely a virgin in every way, making me want to be her first at everything. She licked her lips, completely unaware what the swift flick of her pink tongue across her lips did to me.
“Your innocence is so fucking hot.”
Sliding my metal fingers higher to her waist, I growled at the electric current rippling from her. I tugged slowly on the chain. Her hands came up to my chest, stopping me.
“Dommiel. I don’t understand what this is, why I, it feels—”
“Let me tell you, then.” I dropped the chain and slid my fingers around her nape, my thumb brushing her jaw. “I burn for you, angel.” Sweeping closer, I whispered, “And by the look on your face and the speeding of your pulse, you burn for me, too.”
Axel crooned the chorus, his haunting voice reverberating off the rafters.
She didn’t shake her head, but the panicked look didn’t leave her. “This can’t be true.”
“Oh, it is.” Sliding my metal hand to the small of her bare back, I pressed her against me, her pelvis wedged between my parted legs. My dick was so hard for her. A heavy groan rumbled up my throat.
“Your demon is looking at me.”
Fuck, I knew that. My canines were so sharp, they’d prick her tongue if she slipped it inside once I’d gotten my mouth on hers. Dropping the cigarette, I crushed it out.
“He’s always looking at you. Always wanting you.” Sliding my thumb to her chin, I put gentle pressure, opening her mouth. “Tell me no, Anya.” With a silky slide of my tongue along her lower lip, I lifted away again. “Tell me no. Or I’m going to taste you again.”
Eyes glinting with the flash of lights on the stage, she curled her fingers over my shoulder under my jacket and closed the distance, murmuring two beautiful words before she pressed her lips to mine. “I can’t.”
A triumphant groan vibrated in my chest when I glided my tongue inside. Silky heat. Sweet moan. Fucking perfect. A fierce impulse clenched me in an iron grip, a frightening need to hold tight. To invade, to possess, to never let go. I cupped her beautiful ass and pulled her against me, refusing to acknowledge that this vicious desperation was more than lust. Grinding my aching cock against her, my own panic eased as her body became pliant against mine. Submitting to me.
She gasped, but I swallowed her little cry before she could get away, invading her honey-sweet mouth that was made for sin. Not heaven.
“Fucking wunderschön is right,” I ground against her swollen lips. “Give me more, Anya.”
I pressed in again, cupping her skull beneath her silken hair, needing to keep her still, needing to dominate. Then she rocked her hips forward and I was lost to everything but her. The pounding of the drums in that slow serenade of a bygone era vibrated through me as I held on to this angel like a fucking lifeline, plundering her mouth with violent need.
I’d kissed thousands of women. Fucked even more. This was nothing new. Why did it feel that way? More than her playing for the wrong team, she was delicious beyond compare to all the latex-wearing, kink-loving, on-their-knees-worshipping women I’d had in my immortal life. This sweet-eyed, blade-wielding, tight-bodied goddess had me wanting to fall to my own knees, to beg, to worship. Anything just to taste—
“More.” I nipped her lip with a fang, drawing a pearl of blood. Licking it clean, I soothed with gentler strokes and nips. For fuck’s sake, she whimpered and welcomed it. I was going to lose my goddamn mind.
The tempo of the drum beat faltered, then stopped altogether. Axel’s voice died away. The familiar sound of screams and snarls tore us apart.
Anya leaped back, both of us peering below as demons on the perimeter raced toward an unseen enemy in the massive foyer below us.
Without a word, I launched toward the stairwell, glancing back to find Anya leaping over the balcony railing, her wings beating the air as she lowered into the melee. Still, I beat her to the entrance, which was already a battleground, black blood of demons splattering the steel columns and concrete walls alongside the dark red of angels.
“What the fuck?”
Two demons I didn’t recognize dressed in the same black leather garb as their allies, stood at the door, helping angel warriors cross the threshold of the wards. In the parking lot beyond, steel clanged against steel and bullets flew, the air sparking with electricity. A black storm roared its arrival. The telltale sign of angels and demons in battle.
Anya, with the collar still attached, the chain tucked into her belt, flew straight out the open double doors.
“Shit!”
Racing after her, I sped out into mayhem. A raging wind roared over the din of gunshot and sword fight. The black-winged warriors of Maximus’s army rained hell down on the demons with their claymore swords they wielded easily with one hand. The sorry bastards were fighting nobly, the old hand-to-hand combat still in play. But demons had found better, more lethal weapons—ether-laced bullets and blades.
Lightning crackled a purple streak across the sky. Its mate, a crash of thunder, shook the stone buildings, amplifying the supernatural energy pulsing in the air.
Cocytus, one of the five Soul Collectors of the underworld shrieked with a piercing cry like a banshee over the moor. Known as the River of Lamentation and Soul-eater of Woe, she cursed every soul she ate to experience unending grief in the bowels of her body, their souls descending into a dimension worse than hell. Hovering up and down in the air like a spider waiting to stick and devour its prey, her ghastly pale face and glittering black eyes moved this way and that. With an ear-splitting screech, she descended on a fallen demon, shoveling him up into her gaping maw with skeletal hands—flesh, guts, bones, and all.
Scanning the bedlam, noting several black-winged angels among the band of heavenly warriors, I sought out the only one that mattered. The one with blue wings.
Spotting Anya, my heart stopped. A bald-headed demon had a grip on the end of her chain—which only I could remove. He jerked it forward, pulling her to her knees. His fucking minions circled her just out of reach of the daggers she held in both hands.
Rage, white-hot, burned through my blood. Cocytus would have more filth to feast upon. Stalking forward in long strides, my target in sight, my beast clawed his way to the top, bellowing one word from his cold black heart.
Death.