Angel Betrayed (21 page)

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Authors: Cynthia Eden

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal, #General

BOOK: Angel Betrayed
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Sam climbed in the truck and tossed the gun out behind him. Bullets wouldn’t do him any good against Rogziel and his hound. “Despite what Az told you, I don’t kill every person I meet.” Just most of them. “You’re still breathing, aren’t you?” He grabbed the guy’s body and tossed him into the road. He’d wake up soon. The blow hadn’t been that hard.
She opened the passenger door and slid onto the cracked seat. “You’re saying that he was wrong?”
Sam gunned the engine. The truck just screeched. As getaway vehicles went, this one sucked. But beggars couldn’t be fucking choosy. “No.” Because he couldn’t lie to her. “I’m saying, sweetheart, that Az isn’t lily white when it comes to sin. His hands are dirty.”
“Dirtier than yours?”
He didn’t answer.
She just had to keep pushing.
If she wasn’t careful, he’d push back soon. Yes, he got it—she was furious that he’d used her as bait, but he hadn’t been given a lot of options.
The truck lurched forward. Dust spun in the air. Sam glanced in the rearview mirror. The old guy was already standing up, shaking his fists in the air, and screaming.
“I don’t think Az set those fires,” she told him, and it was the same verse she’d been singing—one that was royally pissing him off. Why did the woman keep defending his brother? “I think Rogziel did it,” she continued in a determined I-Know-The-Truth voice.
Ah, yes, let’s not forget the other fun player in their little game. Now just how had Rogziel been able to—
The bed of the truck suddenly sank to the ground, as if something very big had jumped onto the back. The vehicle swerved as Sam fought to control it. Cursing, he risked a glance over his shoulder, but he saw nothing.
But he could swear that, through the broken back window, he felt the hot stench of hell’s breath.
“Sam! Sam, what’s happening?”
Metal grated. The few bits of glass still on that back windshield broke away. “You tell me,” he shouted, but he knew what was happening.
He’d fallen for lying eyes. Innocence that he should have
known
was a trick for a demon. He lunged forward as far as he could and drove the gas pedal down to the ground as he deliberately jerked the steering wheel from the left to the right in an attempt to dislodge their new passenger.
Sam knew a hellhound had hitched a ride with them.
Sonofabitch.
A succubus shouldn’t be able to summon a hellhound.
Invisible claws ripped into his shoulder, and deep rivulets of blood sprayed into the air.
“
Sam!
What’s happening?” Terror and fear seemed to cloak Seline’s lying words.
He grabbed her hand and held tight even as he fought to steer with his left hand. “Call it off,” he demanded. Because he understood—finally—just what was going on. No wonder the hound hadn’t so much as scratched Seline’s skin . . . the beast couldn’t.
A hellhound could never hurt its master.
He risked a fast glance at her—even as claws raked him again—but he didn’t free her hand.
“Call it the fuck off.”
“Call what off?” She didn’t try to tug free. Her eyes were wide and scared—and black as night. “There’s nothing back there!”
Nothing that could be seen, not yet, but the beast’s claws and teeth could sure be felt.
“It’s your hound.” Why hadn’t he seen this before? He’d been so unconcerned with Seline’s “other” half. A hybrid . . . hell, he’d been so blind.
The hound hadn’t attacked her.
The beast had found them too fast, and there was only one way a hound could track this fast.
The hellhound had honed in on its master.
And the next words had to be said, because that last swipe of the beast’s claws had come too close to his neck. “Call it off . . . or you die.” If a hound’s master wouldn’t call the beast back, then the only way to stop a hellhound was to kill that master.
Without the master, the hound went back to hell instantly.
“What?”
Her hoarse whisper.
His hold tightened on her. He could hear the beast’s snarls now. Hungry growls. The hound wanted a soul to feed on. Too bad. His wasn’t on the menu. “Pull the beast back . . . or go to hell with the hound.”
Betrayed.
All of it had been a setup, and he’d been too blind to see the truth.
Lust had made him stupid.
The hound’s growls kept rumbling in his ears, and he had to dodge more swipes from those claws. The truck pushed forward faster,
faster,
and he felt razor-sharp teeth press into the back of his neck.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Now Seline was fighting to pull free of his grip. “Sam, you’re scaring me!”
She wasn’t going to call the beast back. Damn her. “The hellhound . . .” Those teeth clipped his throat. Fire burned along Sam’s flesh. “Send the beast back,
now!
” Another fast glance at her.
Her eyes were huge and filmed with the glimmer of tears.
Tears
. He’d never seen her cry. Fear had her face paling, and he knew she understood as she stared at the wounds spreading on his body. Those growls and snarls filled the truck as the hound gained strength from Sam’s blood.
“I-I can’t.” Her confession and she stopped trying to pull away from him. “I’m sorry . . .”
So was he. Power pumped through him. He had to do what was necessary for survival.
The truck thundered faster, its bald tires wobbling.
Faster, faster . . .
Those invisible teeth snapped at him again.
Sam slammed on the brakes. His chest rammed into the steering wheel, but those teeth—those damn sharp teeth—tore free of him. A giant gaping hole appeared in the windshield—a hole that had been made by the hound’s body. He could see the ghostly image of the beast struggling to take shape on the dirt road. The beast was bloody, and its hind legs were broken.
Seline slumped beside Sam. Her head had hit the windshield an instant before the beast had gone through and sent glass shattering, but she hadn’t been thrown from the truck.
Sam still had his hold on her wrist, and his grip was far more unbreakable than any seat belt ever could be.
Her eyes were closed. Blood trickled from the wound on her head, and he was pretty sure he’d dislocated her shoulder when he’d stopped her from flying out of the vehicle.
The hound’s ghostly image began to vanish. With Seline unconscious, the hound couldn’t marshal enough energy to focus and attack again.
Sam’s fingers curled around Seline’s limp hand. He glared at the disappearing beast. “Fuck you,” he snarled, and drove the truck right at the hound. Just as the front bumper reached the beast, its image completely melted away.
 
Her shoulder hurt. Seline felt the throbbing pain push through the cloaking darkness that surrounded her.
“We’ve got a big problem.” Sam’s angry voice.
She tensed and wondered why she couldn’t open her eyes.
“You’re sure she summoned him?” A voice she hadn’t heard before. Male. Deep. Not angry like Sam’s, more . . . measured.
She tried to lift her lashes. Not happening.
What’s wrong with me?
The last thing she remembered was being in that old, beat-up truck with Sam. He’d told her . . .
Call it off . . . or you die.
Then the world had stopped. No, not the world, that crappy pickup truck. Glass had exploded and a hound’s roaring cry had filled her ears.
Then, nothing.
“The minute she went out, the hellhound vanished. The beast didn’t hurt her, not even once, but it sure tried to take more than its pound of flesh from me.” Sam again. She could feel him, knew he was close.
Sam threatened to kill me.
The thought had rage building within her. She’d saved his butt, and he’d actually said he’d kill her?
She hadn’t even
seen
anything in the back of that pickup. Yeah, something had been there. Once the blood started flowing, there had been no denying that fact. But she hadn’t summoned anything. She didn’t even know how to do something like that.
As for killing her?
Kiss my ass, Fallen.
The way Seline figured it, their deal was now over.
And the fact that it felt like Sam had ripped her heart out? Well, she’d find a way to deal with that later. She was good at dealing with disappointment.
Shouldn’t have trusted him.
She knew better than to trust anyone.
Seline tried to talk, but only a moan slipped from her lips.
What happened to me?
“How long are you going to hold her under?” that other male voice asked again. No anger, no judgment. Just mild curiosity.
Then she understood what was happening. Sam had put her out of commission. Damn him. He’d used his powers to trap her inside her own body. A psychic shutdown. She’d heard of this happening before, but Seline had never thought it could happen to her.
Or that he’d be the one to do this to her.
Bastard.
Just when she’d started to care, to think that, maybe, she’d found a guy who understood her.
Can’t trust anyone in this world. Or the next.
Another weak moan slipped from her.
As soon as she could move again, he’d be hurting.
But the memory of that truck filled her mind. His blood had been everywhere. He’d been attacked, again and again, by something she couldn’t see.
Hellhound?
Talk about your living nightmare.
“She . . . looks familiar to me.” The other guy again. “Her nose, her cheeks . . .” A sharp inhalation. “I swear I’ve seen her before.”
“This hellhound . . .” And who the hell was talking now? A woman with a soft voice and the hint of the South drawling below the words. “Will it come back if she wakes up?”
I’m awake now!
Awake, but not able to open her eyes. Or talk. Or move at all. Freaking paralyzed.
Why had she thought that she could count on Sam? She knew the stories about him, the mile-long list of enemies that he had. But still she’d gone right in and thought he’d be different with her. Obviously, she was delusional.
“If she’s the hound’s master, she’ll be able to summon it from hell anytime, anywhere.” Sam’s voice was flat, but his fingertips were on her cheek, gently brushing back her hair. The light touch felt . . . strange. It should have felt wrong, but it didn’t. Just . . .
damn him.
“Doesn’t matter where or when, she has an attack dog at her beck and call,” Sam finished.
“A dog that can kill you and Keenan?” The woman asked, and even Seline heard the fear in the chick’s voice, particularly when she said, “Keenan.”
“No one’s killing me, Nicole,” the guy, had to be Keenan, promised.
Something creaked. Probably a floorboard. Which brought up a new question . . . where was she?
“The hound
can
kill you, though?” Nicole pushed. Her voice had risen with fear.
“A hellhound can kill anyone.” It was Sam who answered. “It doesn’t matter how strong the
Other
is, a hound can still drag ’em down to hell.”
“And
she
can summon one of these hounds?” Nicole demanded.
No, I can’t.
Could she?
“Yes.”
“Then why are we wasting time?” That southern accent got a little thicker. “Let’s kill her now.”
Oh, no, the chick just hadn’t said that.
Bad plan.
“Nicole.” Keenan’s calm voice.
Yeah, that’s right, pull back your guard dog.
“Just
touch
her, and the threat’s gone.” Nicole was talking fast. Seline really didn’t like this woman. “Sam, why haven’t you killed her yet? If you know she’s this dangerous then why is she still breathing?”
Sam touched Seline’s cheek again. She wanted to flinch away yet couldn’t move. But his touch didn’t kill. Didn’t hurt her at all. “Because I’m addicted,” he said, the words rumbling, low.
Not exactly a giant declaration of love there.
“She doesn’t look like an angel,” Nicole muttered.
If she could have, Seline would have laughed. She knew exactly what she looked like.
Sin.
She’d been told that often enough over the years—both by lovers who thought they were seducing her and by humans who thought she should be repenting.

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