Fallen Angel (Hqn) (3 page)

Christ, this girl was really getting to him.

Finally, it was too much. He lifted his hand, touched the tip of one finger to her face. Warmth washed over him, his groin tightened.

God, like some kind of pervert!

One of her monitors beeped and he yanked his hand back. He looked into her face, watched as her eyes fluttered, then opened. Unbelievable. Eyes that were all cloudless blue summer skies. That innocent. That clear and sweet. She was looking right at him. His heart lurched.

She moved her lips, but for a long moment nothing came out. Lips lush and cherry-pink, despite her condition. Finally she whispered, “Save me.”

His heart hammered. Broke wide-open. He leaned in, looking into her eyes, willing her to see him, hear him. “Anything. Anything for you.”

He meant it. And that scared the hell out of him. This girl scared the hell out of him. Because she was the first person in six years he’d felt anything for.

“Who are you?” he asked her, his voice low, almost as though he were asking himself. But her eyes had closed again. He wasn’t even certain she’d really spoken to him, or if he’d imagined it, a combination of exhaustion and shock. He was surprised he was even still capable of being shocked. He sure as hell wasn’t capable of feeling much else anymore, other than resentment, anger.

But looking down at the pale figure with the beautiful face, he knew that was a lie. It was more than anger surging through his veins. Beneath the anger, the shock, was a deep need to protect this girl, this stranger. To avenge her.

He would find out who had done this to her. No matter what it took.

CHAPTER TWO

S
HE
COULD
SEE
C
ERBERUS
’
S
HEAD
, enormous and black as midnight. He was just out of reach, over the next dune of windswept sand. She followed him, running as fast as she could, so fast grains of sand kicked up onto the small of her back, the back of her thighs, stinging her bare skin. But he was faster.

Was he leading her to the Gates? Did this mean she wasn’t rejected, after all?

She’d been to the Gates before, or nearly there. She had seen them from a distance, anyway, black and shining against the smoky red sky that never seemed to end. But they were always just out of reach, just like their guardian.

He was running, faster and faster, and she was breathless, trying to keep up as he led her into a dark cove, the rocky peaks towering above her on either side. The sand narrowed to a small pathway, twisting and turning so that she couldn’t see what was ahead or behind her, other than the flash of black fur she followed after.

Her heart was burning, her legs pumping, her lungs on fire as she ran. And suddenly she knew she was lost, that he was gone. That she’d failed again.

Her chest ached with sorrow. With a purely physical pain she didn’t understand. She stopped, turning around and around, but everywhere was rocks and sand and emptiness. Panic shook her, making her dizzy.

The sky was fading from red to gray, the rocks disappearing in the mist. Light shone through. She peered into the shadows. Someone was there.

Not Asmodeus. Not Cerberus.

He had a hard, kind face. Beautiful in its own way. Not the sharp perfection that was her demon lover. More…real. And she found her racing pulse calming.

There was something about his eyes…they were a pure, dazzling blue. And fierce with…what? She sensed no anger from him there, not toward her, at least. But he burned, this man.

Her mind was blurring, and she forced herself to stay with him, to focus. He reached out, and her pulse raced as he touched her face. The gentlest of touches, making her body warm all over.

She had never before been touched by a man. Had never seen one other than Asmodeus, and he wasn’t really a man at all.

Her body ached. It was the pure and lovely ache of desire beneath the wrenching pain that was building, until she could barely breathe through it.

He was fading again. She wanted to hang on to him.
Needed
to. This was what she’d chosen. But she felt too weak, too tired, to hold on. She couldn’t do it. Not alone.

She tried to tell him, but the words wouldn’t come out.

Save me.

She tried again, but her lips refused to move. She was going numb all over: her body, her mind. She felt an odd sinking sensation, as though she was being pulled into the very center of the earth.

She didn’t want to do it, but she called on the only one who was familiar to her.

“Asmodeus!”

“I am here.”

Relief flooded through her at the sound of his voice. Then his heat enveloped her and she saw the golden glow that often preceded him. Just a clear, gleaming light that seemed to come from his hair and his body, cut through only by the burning, bottomless black of his eyes. More beautiful and deadly than a snake.

“Asmodeus, where am I?”

“You are here, with me.” His voice was a deep, soothing echo, one she could never quite catch. But it wrapped around her like a full-body caress.

“But…I remember choosing.”

“Yes. You chose.”

“Yet here you are anyway. With me again.”

“My loyalty is astounding.”

She hung her head, her hair falling around her face, covering her naked breasts. “More so than my own. There are reasons why I’ve been rejected by the Dark God.”

She looked up, and the demon nodded, his black gaze on hers.

“Is this to be my punishment?”

“Being with me is a punishment? I have guided you, taught you. Loved you.”

“No, I…I meant to be in this nowhere place. To feel such pain.”

“I am with you. As always.”

“Asmodeus…”

She was full of sadness. Full of fear.

“I would comfort you, little one. I would put my arms around you. But you are untouchable.”

“Even now? Now that my body is no longer sacred?”

“I did not say your body was not still sacred, still consecrated.”

“Yet you cannot touch me.”

His voice was low, seductive. “I would touch you in the way I always have.”

“Yes, Asmodeus.”

She took a step toward him, absorbing the fiery heat of his body, the hard shell gleaming with desire, his dark golden cock rising.

“Tell me what you desire, my beauty.”

“To be touched,” she answered, as she so often had.

“I will tell you how I would touch you, how you would touch me.”

“Yes…”

Already her sex was plumping, filling, her breasts aching.

The demon’s hand began a slow stroking motion, up his rigid shaft, down again. He was pure beauty, her demon lover. His skin was like polished gold, impossibly smooth. And his hair was pale, pale silk, the long strands floating weightlessly about his broad shoulders, his perfect face. But at this moment, nothing was more beautiful to her than his hand on his cock, the flawless instrument of pleasure that was ever denied her. His long fingers brushed at the swollen head, and her mouth watered.

“I would put my lips there, Asmodeus, and taste you,” she told him while the heat built in her system, scorching her with need.

“Yes. And I would wrap my hands in your long hair, wrap it around and around my fist, holding you tight, pushing my flesh down your lovely throat.”

“And you would be sweet on my tongue…”

“Show me how I would touch you while you sucked me, beauty.”

“Oh…”

Her hands went to her breasts, teasing the nipples. They went hard as two stones immediately. But she needed more. With one hand she parted the lips of her sex, looked up at Asmodeus as pleasure seeped into her system, warming her all over.

“The perfect pearl,” the demon told her. “I would taste you, as well.” His tongue darted out, the luscious pink tip running over his full lips. “I would drink from you, my tongue pushing into you, suckling you. You would grow hard in my mouth.”

“Yes…”

She used her other hand to tease at her entrance, to tug on her clitoris. She watched as he stroked his thick member, the head growing darker, like burnished copper. With his other hand he smoothed his fingertips over one of his dark, bronze nipples.

“You would put your lovely mouth on me here,” he continued. “And here.” He arched his hips into his fisted hand.

“I want you, Asmodeus.”

“As always, my beauty.” He pumped into his fist, faster and faster. His eyes burned like the darkest coal, brighter with his pleasure. “Spread your pretty thighs for me, little one. Press onto that needy nub of flesh, rub at the entrance to your tight, virgin center with your fingers. Yes. Beautiful.”

She did as he told her, her fingers teasing, pushing in the slightest bit, then slipping out again. With her other hand she circled her clitoris, hard and aching and needing release.

Their hips arched together, into the cool air that separated them, and always would. And as the demon’s gaze burned red, then blue with fire, his roar reverberated in her body as he came. The roaring made her tremble inside, with need, with fear. Like some deep, unearthly vibration, bringing her closer to the edge.

Asmodeus was still roaring, his voice hurting her ears, her head. The ache grew, fanned out, enveloping her. But this was no sharp stab of desire, no exquisite release. It was pain and pain and pain. Drowning her.

She gasped, her hands going to her head, trying to hold it still in the screaming light blinding her eyes, numbing her mind. She couldn’t see, didn’t know where she was.

Was Asmodeus still with her? She didn’t know.

The light pierced, and behind it was a veil of shadows. She blinked, and saw
his
face once more.

Her stranger who was not a stranger. He blinked at her, his blue eyes fringed in dark lashes. She felt the strength in his face. The concern.

She tried to focus on him, but the pain was too much. She couldn’t bear it. She closed her eyes, called out for Asmodeus in the dark.

The pain faded, and Asmodeus was with her once more. His skin shone golden in the enveloping blackness, like some sort of guiding light.

“Asmodeus. I saw someone. A man.”

The demon’s dark brows drew together, his mouth going tight. “Would you choose him over me?”

“Who is he?”

His voice burned with a simmering fury. “I am the one who comes when you call, am I not?”

“Yes. Of course. But he was here…or somewhere. And I think he is…my protector, somehow.”

“Ha!”

“Please, Asmodeus. Won’t you give me some answer?”

“Do you not love the Dark One?”

“Of course!” she said, fiercely, but knew in her heart some of the fierceness was to cover the lie.

“We must all suffer for love,” the demon said. “You chose to suffer.”

“I did not know that was what I was choosing.”

“You chose to turn your back on the Dark One. You chose to turn your back on me.”

She couldn’t answer him. His fiery gaze burned into her.

“Is it too late to change my mind? To choose differently?”

He shook his head, and faded away, leaving her alone among the rocky cliffs once more, the light fading with him, until all was dark as night once more. Pain gripped her, terrible pain. Cool steel touched her skin, cut into it. She bled. She wanted to call out for him, Asmodeus, but her mouth wouldn’t work. Her
head
wouldn’t work. She was blind, unable to move, unable to scream.

Was this what she had condemned herself to? This empty place, with nothing but her own failure, her guilt, the endless and abiding love she had been raised for unanswered? That was the worst part of all. Her mind worried over that, until the physical pain surged, her lungs pressing down on her, filling, taking her under like a heavy tide she couldn’t resist.

* * *

F
OUR
DAYS
. A
ND
FOUR
LONG
nights, listening to the quiet beeping of her monitors. Waiting for her to wake up. And the whole time Declan had been certain she was in there, that she would wake up and be whole.

Or, as whole as someone who’d been through the weird shit she had could be.

Stephen had warned him she might never wake up. Or that she could wake up with nerve damage, brain damage. Still, Declan couldn’t argue away the impossible hope he’d been hanging on to after that first night with her here, in the stifling, sterile white and linoleum and illness of the hospital. As silent and still as she’d been, he felt some strange connection to her.

You’ve been living alone too long. Starting to lose it… .

Maybe. Or maybe there was something special about this girl. This young woman.

He hadn’t for a moment been unaware that she was a woman. Even now, with her life hanging by a thread, he was aware of the curve of her lush breasts beneath the white sheet. The beauty of her face under the tubes and bandages. From his seat in the big, beige, vinyl chair the nurses had brought in for him the second night, he watched the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, moving with the rhythm of the machines that were keeping her alive.

She’s in there somewhere, my fallen angel. If only I can find her.

Find her? He didn’t even know what he meant by that. Giving himself too much credit. As if there was anything he could do to pull her out of wherever her mind was. So why was he so convinced he could? That staying with her every moment was so damn crucial?

God, he was tired. Tired and apparently delusional.

He rubbed at the stubble he’d allowed to grow on his chin, his cheeks. He hadn’t been willing to take enough time away from her bedside to do more than grab a quick shower, check on Liam, who was safe and cared for at his father’s place.

His father.

They’d hardly spoken since his mother died. He’d avoided the house, had only seen Oran when they’d inevitably run into each other in their small town. His father called every now and then, but it had been less the past year or two. The old man had finally had to give up, he guessed, in light of his son’s constant rebuffs. Or maybe part of it was that he knew damn well Declan wouldn’t like that Oran had a new girlfriend. Well, not so new anymore. But a hell of a lot newer than the woman he’d been married to for almost twenty-five years.

It had been harder and harder not to think of his mom. Not to remember her in a room in this same hospital, pale and suffering, swollen from the chemo and the aftereffects of her surgeries, her dark hair gone. She’d been sick for over a year, but round after round of chemo hadn’t allowed it to ever grow back. It had bothered her. She hadn’t complained, but he’d caught her once, standing in front of the vanity mirror in her bedroom at home, smoothing her hand over her bald head, tears in her eyes. He hadn’t said anything. He’d wanted to allow her the dignity of privacy with her grief.

That was right after they’d learned that more chemo wasn’t going to help. Right before she’d signed the DNR order.

“Damn it,” he muttered, rising from the chair to look out the window, trying to ignore the way his gut still twisted up whenever he remembered what she’d gone through. His own helplessness to do anything about it. To help her.

Calm down.

The morning was heavy with fog, as it was year-round on this part of the Northern California coast. Beyond the rows of cars in the parking lot he could see the trees, dense and dark green against the gray-and-blue skyline.

His mother had loved the fog, which was one reason he’d had to escape after she was gone. There was a span of years when he couldn’t stand to see it: the fog, the ancient redwoods, the wet and the green of the Mendocino coastline. All the things she’d loved so much. He’d joined the military to get as far away as possible. And he had. He’d gone to the other end of the goddamn earth.