Beauty Awakened (Angels of the Dark) (13 page)

Heart pounding, she rounded on him. The action left her dizzy, but she managed to remain on her feet.

He was so close he had only to reach out to pinch a lock of her hair between his too-thin fingers. “I told everyone I planned to fire you tonight. Tomorrow, if the cops come knocking on my door, I’ll let them know you offered me your body to stay on, and of course, in a moment of weakness, I succumbed. And oh, the sick things you let me do to you. Afterward, though, you were still fired. Horrible of me? Yes. But deserving of your malicious lies about rape?” He tsked under his tongue. “No.”

Rape. The word echoed hollowly in her mind.
This
was why her instincts had wanted her to run, she realized, not because he’d planned to fire her. Why, why, why hadn’t she listened?

“N-no one will believe you.”

“Won’t they?” He inched ever closer to her. “I know what I’m planning to do, but even I believe me. See, you told me you fell at the hospital and banged your head. I’m guessing you have bruises from that. What’s a few more? How will anyone be able to tell the difference?”

The doctors would be able to tell the difference. And she was sure the authorities would be able to tell the difference...but what did that matter right now? By the time they discovered the truth, his awful deed would already have been done.

The fear magnified, opening welcoming arms to panic.
Can’t yield to it.

Must fight.
Nicola swung out a fist, intending to punch him in the nose and buy herself a few minutes to find a weapon, but he jumped out of the way, avoiding contact. Before she could swipe out another fist, he kicked out his leg and knocked her ankles together. She jetted backward, her skull hitting the door. A sharp pain wrung a gasp from her, even as pinpricks of light dotted her vision, and she slid to the concrete floor.

Another concussion?
she wondered distantly.

Grinning all the wider, Mr. Ritter bent over her. “I put a camera in the women’s bathroom, you know. Your panties have always been my favorite.”

His image swam, blurring with that of the monkey. The creature was once again preparing to pee. Somehow, she managed to find the strength to turn her head and bite Mr. Ritter’s ankle.

Howling, he ripped from her hold. Blood instantly coated her tongue. Good. She’d taken a hunk of skin and muscle.

Temples throbbing, she pulled herself up and spit whatever was in her mouth at the monkey, causing him to lurch away. “I won’t let you do this.”

“You won’t be able to stop me.” He leaped on her, shoving her back down, staying on his knees to straddle her waist. The monkey laughed and pointed at her, just as his friends had done earlier.

“No!” she screamed, bucking to dislodge him. Failing. “No! Stop!” She punched and punched at him, nailing him in the shoulder, the chest and the side, but weak as she was he was able to withstand the abuse and eventually catch...her...wrists....

“Gotcha.”

And he did. He had her, and worked quickly to tie her arms over her head and latch her to the door. Though she could barely draw in a breath, though her heart was fluttering painfully and her vision was dimming, she contorted her body to kick at him. He soon had her legs corralled and her ankles tied to his desk, leaving her stretched out, open to attack.

Tears beaded in her eyes. She’d lost, she realized. As easily as that, she’d lost. And—no, no, no—she was going to pass out. Any moment now, she would fade, utterly vulnerable, even more helpless.

“Now, now,” he said. “I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself. There’s no reason for you to be upset.”

“I said no!” she gritted out.

“And I said oh, baby, yes.” He began unbuttoning his shirt.

This wasn’t happening. Was it? This couldn’t be happening. Could it? Her boss, a man she had known for three years, had not just threatened her, bound her with his necktie and rope. He wasn’t stripping. And she wasn’t fighting for every breath, holding on to her state of awareness with every fiber of her being.

“The things I’m going to do to you...” He discarded the cotton with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Please, don’t do this,” she pleaded.

He ignored her words, looking her over. “I’ll be very careful with your clothes, so that there’s no sign of a struggle.” He reached down, tugged her shirt and bra over her breasts, baring her to his view, and licked his lips. “Well, well. I never expected you to be so pretty here.”

The tears cascaded down her cheeks, burning. “Please.” The room was growing darker by the second.

“Hmmm, I do like when you beg.” He unsnapped the waist of her jeans, slowly lowered the zipper.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered, fighting sobs. Darkness...so much darkness...

“Because I want to. Because I can.” She heard the slide of
his
zipper.

A ferocious bellow suddenly ripped through the entire room, scraping at her ears. Mr. Ritter stiffened—just before his weight was thrown off her.

Boom!

Nicola blinked, light returning. She saw her boss across the room, plaster and dust forming a cloud around him.

“I grant you battle rights to the demon,” a familiar voice snapped, and then Koldo was leaning over her, cutting her loose, righting her clothing. His big, strong hands were gentle, comforting. “But the human is mine.”

He was here.

He had saved her.

The sobs finally battled their way free, and she threw her arms around his neck, holding him as tightly as she possibly could.

“Are you all right?” he asked in a soft voice.

She tried to reply, but she was choking, gasping, and couldn’t work out a single word.

He lifted her against his chest, anchoring her with one hand and righting the chair she’d vacated with the other. He placed her in the seat and tried to straighten, but she maintained her grip.

He knelt in front of her and cupped her cheeks, forcing her to face him. “What was done to you, Nicola?”

Somehow, she found her voice. “He...he...tried to...was going to...”

A hard gleam in his eyes as he said, “But he didn’t?”

“Not yet.”

“I know you gave me rights, but I will bow to your desires. What would you prefer I do?” an unfamiliar male asked. “Capture or destroy?”

“Destroy,” Koldo replied, and with the word, whatever tether he had on his control must have snapped. He straightened, every inch of him vibrating with aggression, and stomped over to Mr. Ritter.

One punch. Two. Three. Four. There were no pauses. No stopping to issue a taunt. Koldo simply unloaded, his fists pounding into her boss’s face. Blood sprayed in every direction. The sound of breaking bone echoed.

The brutality of the act stunned her. She’d never seen such focused rage.

Her gaze slid in the other, unfamiliar man’s direction. He was the same size as Koldo, and sweet mercy, he was beautiful. So blond and tan and, wow, he had some big baby blues. But what truly snagged her attention were the huge, feathery wings arching over his shoulders and swooping all the way to the floor.

He was...an angel?

I grant you battle rights to the demon,
Koldo had said.

Angels fought demons. Right? So...yes, he had to be an angel.

The winged male picked up speed as he chased the monkey—the demon—through the room, his image blurring. He swung two menacing swords, papers floating from the desk to the ground. Files scattered, and furniture was toppled over. Finally, though, his blades slicked through the monkey’s fur—right across his throat. The head separated from the body, and both toppled to the ground. Black mist rose from the pieces...pieces now sizzling, burning to ash.

Ash that danced through the air, curling up, up and away.

He tossed the blood-soaked swords behind him, and as they vanished, frowned at Koldo. “Hey, that’s enough,” he said.

But Koldo continued.

Mr. Ritter was too busy dying to weigh in with his opinion.

The winged male threw his arms around Koldo’s middle, trapping him against his chest. Koldo jerked free and spun, his expression cold and menacing, his teeth longer and sharper than she’d ever seen them. He clearly intended to bite the other man, perhaps even to rip his head off.

Somehow, he caught himself in time. Just before contact, he shut his mouth. But he was moving too quickly to stop altogether, and his cheek slammed into the other guy’s chin, sending him stumbling backward. When the blond straightened, the two faced each other.

“You can’t kill him,” the blond snarled. “I did us both a favor.”

There was something about his voice...something that caused Nicola to flinch. A purity she’d never before heard. A compulsion to believe him, whatever he said.

“I know,” Koldo spat. “But I can hurt him.”

“You’ve done that.”

“Not enough.”

Otherworldly blue eyes narrowed with determined calculation. “Fine. You finish with the male, and risk ruining us all, and I’ll take care of the female.”

A second later, Koldo was standing in front of her, yet he’d never taken a step. His heat quickly enveloped her, and his comforting scent followed suit. “You won’t touch her.”

The blond nodded as though disappointed, but he couldn’t hide the twitching of his lips. Clearly, he was now amused.

He leaned down and wrapped his big hand around Mr. Ritter’s neck and lifted him off the floor. Her boss was unconscious, his face nothing but blood and pulp. His eyes were swollen shut, his nose flattened against his cheek, and his lip slit in multiple places.

“What are his crimes?” the blond asked her.

Koldo reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, offering comfort.

“He videos girls going to the bathroom,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her middle. At least she could cross
concussion
off the list. Her eyesight was fine, her stomach calming. “He tied me up. He touched me. He was going to... Was happy about...”

A growl erupted from Koldo. Those too-sharp teeth were once again bared. His nostrils flared with his every breath, and his muscles knotted, seeming to expand. “You will give him to me and walk away, Thane.”

“Hardly,” the male—Thane—retorted. “I told you. You’ve done enough. I’ll take him to the human authorities.”

Nicola studied Koldo more intently. He might skirt the edge of savage right now, but his image was her lifeline to sanity. He wore a long, white robe, just like the other guy, but there were no wings stretching from his back.

He couldn’t be an angel, then. So...what was he? And why wasn’t he covered in Mr. Ritter’s blood? There wasn’t a single crimson speck on him.

“I can’t allow you to break Zacharel’s golden rule,” Thane added.

“I will
gladly
break the rule,” he snarled, every word edging closer to murderous.

“Koldo,” Nicola whispered. She didn’t want him in trouble over this.

Instantly the warrior spun back to face her, flickers of concern in his golden eyes. “Yes?”

“I want to go home. Will you...please open...the door?” Her chin began another round of trembling, not from tears, not this time, but from cold. Despite the warrior’s heat, ice was crystallizing in her veins, shock giving way to a heavy realization. After this, her life would never again be the same.

“He somehow locked the office from the inside,” she added, “and I couldn’t get the door to budge.”

Rage contorted his features, but his voice was tender as he said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

“Please, don’t be—” She pressed her lips together, and her heart skipped a beat as she remembered the words she’d offered to Mr. Ritter....
Please, don’t
do this
.... Yet he had spurned her. Laughed.

“I’ll take you home,” Koldo replied, and she almost slumped over with a new tide of relief.

“Thank you.”

“Find the proof of the cameras,” Koldo told Thane, “and make sure the authorities learn of his crimes.
All
of his crimes. If he isn’t locked up by morning, make no mistake, I’ll return and finish what I started.”

“Of course. By the way,” the other male said, “Zacharel just spoke inside my head.”

Koldo nodded stiffly. “Mine, too.”

“So you know we’re free of each other.”

“And that the girl is now my charge. Yes.”

She was?

“Makes sense,” Thane said. “You know when she’s in trouble.”

He did?

Koldo popped his jaw.

“Until the next battle, warrior.” Thane spread his wings and catapulted through the air with Mr. Ritter clutched at his side.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

H
IS
CHARGE
,
K
OLDO
THOUGHT
. Nicola’s actions were now his. If she killed a human, he would be held accountable. If a demon killed her, it would be as if he had delivered the deathblow himself.

Their lives were now irrevocably tied together.

As Koldo’s commander, Zacharel had the authority to place someone, anyone, in Koldo’s care. Just as Germanus had the authority to place Koldo in Zacharel’s care. But why had Zacharel done this to him? What could the Elite warrior possibly hope to gain?

Whatever the answers, Koldo would have to question Zacharel later. Right now, he wanted the shell-shocked Nicola tucked safely away. And he
reeeally
needed to rein in his temper.

As gently as possible, he tugged the trembling Nicola to her feet and into his arms. “Close your eyes.” He could flash whatever he held, and was thus able to take her home with only a thought. One moment they were in the office, the next they were in the center of her living room.

His arms fell from around her, and she stumbled backward. When she righted, her gaze caught on the familiar surroundings of her living room and her jaw dropped.

“I’m home. But how did... We never took a step and...only a second passed!”

“It’s called a flash. It’s what I’ve done every time I’ve arrived and left you. This time, I brought you with me.”

Her hand fluttered to her neck. “Where I’m from, flashing means exposing your naked body to someone.”

He wouldn’t touch that statement. Not after everything she’d been through today. “But we aren’t from the same place, are we?”

“I—I guess not.”

He’d been here before, but still he looked around, taking in details he’d previously ignored. The house was small and on the verge of collapse, but it was clean. The walls were yellowed with age and peeling, but scraped. Where the carpet had been ripped out, the floor was stained to blend.

The dwelling would never be worthy of her.

He should move her into one of his homes.

Yes, he thought. He’d never invited anyone to one of his homes, though some of the warriors had invited themselves, yet he suddenly longed to flash Nicola to the beach house or the ranch by the volcano, to surround her with velvets, silks and luxuries of every kind.

If she protested, he could remind her of their bargain. For however long he deemed necessary, she was to do what he said, when he said it, with no argument. But...

He wanted her agreement.

“Sit down. I’ll make tea.”

“You’re staying?” she squeaked.

Was the squeak a sign of relief? Or disappointment?

“I’m staying.”
Just try to get rid of me. See what happens.

She gulped, nodded.

He didn’t like how pale and shaky she was, and though he hated to walk away from her, even for a second, he did just that. In the kitchen, he searched until he found the required items. She had one pot, one pan and two of everything else. There were a few boxed dinners, a few cans of soup, but very little else. How long had she been living like this?

Too long, he decided.

He had to fix the pilot light in order to boil the water, but soon had a steaming cup of chamomile tea in her hands. She rested on the couch, her legs tucked under her and a blanket draped around her shoulders. Some of the color had already returned to her cheeks, and the more forceful of her trembles had subsided.

“Thank you,” she said, proper and polite and so adorable his chest ached.

“You’re welcome. Drink while I check on Laila.”

“I checked on her before I sat down,” she admitted.

He should have guessed. “And how is she?”

“Well. She’s sleeping.” After blowing on the surface of the liquid, Nicola sipped from the cup. “In fact, that’s all she’s been doing lately. Is that normal?”

“Yes.” Her body was playing catch-up with her spirit. “Don’t worry. She won’t spend all of her remaining time in bed.”

Nicola flinched at the reference to the ever-ticking clock. “But if she’s better now, why can’t she stay that way?”

He heard the longing in her tone and knew this was the perfect time to introduce her to the spirit world around her.

Koldo crouched in front of her. Several curling locks of hair had escaped the confinement of her ponytail and now tumbled at her temples, framing her face. Dark bruises marred the tender flesh under her eyes, and her lips were swollen. Had she chewed them in fear? Or had she been struck?

Calm.
“You’ll cease working for the grocery store. Understand?” It wasn’t what he’d planned to say, but the words escaped anyway.

“Well, duh. I already quit.” The waspish statement failed to hide the flood of vulnerability and humiliation suddenly consuming her features. “I’ll need to find another job as soon as possible, though.”

“No.” He wanted the first fruits of her time and energy, not what was leftover.

“But, Koldo, I have to—”

He cut her off, saying, “Recover. Yes.”

Nicola’s gaze lowered. “I shouldn’t have to recover. I knew better than to go back there with him. I had a feeling I should run.”

Her spirit had picked up on things the mind could not and had tried to warn her. “Why did you disregard the feeling?”

“I convinced myself he only meant to fire me, and I wanted a chance to talk him out of it.”

A mistake so many made.

A mistake
Koldo
had often made.

“Why did this happen to me?” she asked softly.

Because she’d gotten a taste of hope and happiness, the demons had sought to squash the beautiful emotions before they could bloom into spiritual weapons. “The world is populated by beings with free will, and free will allows for absolute good...and absolute evil.”

She nodded as he spoke. “Evil. Yes. There was a demon in the room. The other warrior said so.”

“Yes. Demons seek the destruction of mankind.”

“Why?”

“Because they despise the Most High, and He loves you. They cannot strike at Him any other way, so they destroy what He wants kept safe.”

“Why?” she asked again, then blushed. “Sorry. I sound like a four-year-old child. Who is the Most High? Why does He want me—us—kept safe?”

Rather than answer her just yet, he said, “Have you figured out what I am?”

She peeked at him through the thick shield of her lashes. “Well, I know your friend is an angel.”

“But not me?”

“You don’t have wings.”

She had meant no insult. He knew that. She had merely stated a fact. He knew that, too. And yet still a razor seemed to scrape against his chest. “I’m going to remove the top portion of my robe. Not to harm you, or tempt you—” if such a thing were even possible “—but to prove what I am. All right?”

“A-all right.”

He stood and, suddenly trembling, tugged the robe from his shoulders, then turned to reveal the scars and tattoos on his back.

She gasped with...disgust?

“Oh, Koldo. You’re so beautiful.”

No, not disgust. Wonder.

How could that be? Wings were prized, not pale imitations. Yet still he’d spent six days having the back of his body inked, all but his spine colored by images of feathers and down.

By the time he’d had it done, his regenerative powers had been activated, and ambrosia had had to be added to the ink to ensure the colors remained vibrant. Ambrosia, what his mother used to add to her wine. Ambrosia, the flowers he’d picked for her.

Ambrosia, a drug for immortals.

Cornelia had hated her life with her unwanted son so much she’d drugged herself to endure it.

“You were injured,” Nicola said, seeing the scars beneath the tattoos. “How?”

“Torture.”

“Oh, Koldo. I’m so sorry.”

He wasn’t sure how to reply. He only knew he longed for her to stand, to reach out, to ghost her fingertips over the raised tissue.

But she didn’t. And that was probably for the best.

Probably? No. Definitely. He was unsure of his reaction.

She said, “You’re an angel, too, then?”

He shrugged back into his robe and slowly turned to face her. She’d set the teacup on the table beside her, the steam rising, curling around her, creating a dreamlike haze.

Must be near her.

Any other time, he might have fought the urge. But after what she’d just been through, he allowed himself to return to the couch and crouch between her legs. “I’m like the angels in many ways, yes, but I’m not an angel. I’m a Sent One.”

“A Sent One,” she parroted. “What does that mean?”

“I’ll explain as best I can, but I must start from the beginning.”

She nodded, eager. “Please do.”

Here goes.
He hoped she was ready. “Long ago, the most beautiful of all the cherubim was Lucifer, and he was given charge over one-third of the Most High’s angels. One day, he entertained a glimmer of pride...then another...and another and another, until he was nursing his self-importance as a babe at a mother’s breast.”

“I know that word.
Cherubim,
” she said, her brow furrowed. “
Cherub
is the singular version, right? An actual kind of angel. And the Most High is your leader, I’m guessing.”

“Right on both counts.”

“But I thought cherubs were small, like toddlers. And okay, I’m just going to say it—don’t they wear diapers?”

“Lucifer is taller than I am, but I do like the image of him in a diaper.”

Her jaw dropped, but she managed to breathe out, “Wow. Anyone taller than you must be... I mean...uh, I like your height. It’s just right.”

A wonderful recovery,
he thought as he continued his story. “Ultimately, Lucifer became so convinced of his own power that he decided to exalt his throne above the Most High’s. He gathered the angels under his charge, convincing them they would have a better life under his reign. Together, they attacked. The Most High defeated and denounced the treacherous angels, tossing them out of the heavens.”

She reached out, as if she meant to toy with the beads in his beard. Just before contact, she froze. Her hand dropped to her lap. “Were you part of the battle, helping the Most High?”

He hated that she’d changed her mind about touching him—and hated that he hated. “No. I wasn’t yet born.”

“Wait. Angels are born?”

“No. They were created.”

“But... Oh, I remember,” she said with the half grin he so admired. “You aren’t an angel.”

She was beginning to understand.

“So, what happened after the bad guys got spanked?”

“Back then, the earth was different than the place you know it to be, and home to another race of beings. And no, they weren’t human. Lucifer was so angry with the Most High, he infected these beings with his evil. They became so vile, the earth was destroyed—but the beings survived in the core, in hell, because nothing of the spirit can die. Not in the sense you know the word, at least.”

Her eyes widened as he spoke.

“Time passed. The Most High re-created and repopulated the world, this time with humans, and it was a veritable paradise. And to answer your earlier question, He loves your people and wants you kept safe because He created you. He created you because He longed for fellowship. You were to be His beloved children, to rule the earth as kings.”

He paused, waiting for her reaction.

She nodded to encourage him to continue.

“Lucifer decided there was no better time for a counterattack and, through trickery and deceit, stole the reins of control of the earth. The humans began to seek fellowship with
him,
cutting the Most High from their lives.” Hope had seemed lost.

Once again she reached out. This time, she was so distracted by his story that she failed to catch herself. Her fingertips glided over his jaw.

At the moment of contact, he sucked in a breath. It felt so right. So perfect. No wonder humans touched each other whenever they had the chance. A handshake. A pat on the shoulder. A hug. Each action offered comfort. He leaned into her, seeking something deeper, more intimate.

How many years had he yearned for something like this? Dreamed of it? Once, as a child, he’d even cried for it. And now, here it was. Offered freely.

Never stop,
he thought.

“I’m so sorry,” she gasped out, and dropped her arm. “I didn’t mean to maul you.”

That gentle caress was considered mauling? What did she think
he’d
done to
her?
he wondered, a bit sick to his stomach.

“I liked it.” Koldo took her hand in his as tenderly as possible and brought it back to his face. Bit by bit, Nicola relaxed—and so did he. Soon, she was stroking his beard of her own accord, mesmerized by her actions. He had to swallow a purr of approval.

“What happened next?” she asked.

“Lucifer and his fallen angels introduced sickness, suffering, poverty and even physical death to the world. As for the beings living in the earth’s core, they were disembodied, desperately seeking a host. Some came to the surface, searching. They are the creatures you know as demons.”

A shudder of revulsion rocked her. “They all sound terrible.”

“They are.” More so than she realized. “For a while, the fallen angels lived among the humans, called themselves gods, stalked the land at their leisure and tormented whomever they desired. Some even mated with your females, and the offspring became known as the Nephilim. They were horrible creatures filled with hate and driven by greed. They were giants, savages, brutal and...” How to explain? “Different cultures have given them different names.”

“In mythology,” she said, her eyes widening.

“Exactly. Greek, Titan. Egyptian. Norse. Any, all. The fallen angels were punished for contaminating the human race, and chained beneath hell, where they couldn’t be freed by their comrades. The Nephilim were wiped out—at least for a little while.”

Her arms wrapped around her middle, severing contact, and her tremors intensified again. Not to the same degree as at the grocery store, but enough to hurry him along.

As he tucked the blanket more firmly around her shoulders, he said, “There are also demons in hell, there to torment the spirits cast there. They refer to themselves as high lords and minions, but they have many different names, many different ranks. Some prefer to stay here.”