Her Demonic Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 5) (13 page)

Veiron stretched his arm out towards her, resting it on the wooden table, wishing he could hold her hand and feel she was solid and whole, and would be all right. He focused on her as Einar set to work on his back.

He wished Erin would wake. He needed to see those amber eyes of hers and see that she didn’t hate him. She had witnessed him in his true form. She knew what he was now.

When she woke, would she still look at him with passion swamping her beautiful eyes or would they show him only pain and fear?

CHAPTER 10

I
ncredible warmth suffused every inch of Erin’s body, heating her right down to her marrow and leaving her feeling so relaxed that she didn’t want to move. She lay in silence, still and content, drifting between sleeping and waking. She wasn’t sure what she had expected to feel but this bone-melting heat certainly didn’t seem right to her.

“Erin?” A deep voice laced with warmth and concern floated around her. She murmured her appreciation of that beautiful baritone and snuggled into the soft blanket covering her. The voice came again. “Erin?”

Erin sighed and frowned. She didn’t want to wake but she didn’t know why. Something deep within her told her to remain asleep. Why didn’t she want to wake and see the handsome face that went with that delicious toe-curling voice?

Images stuttered and flashed across her mind, a broken replay of a fight that she didn’t quite remember happening but felt that she had been involved in.

She burrowed deeper into the blanket.

A warm palm cupped her cheek, fingers sliding along her jaw, teasing her awake.

No. She didn’t want to go back. She wanted to hide here where everything still made sense and nothing could hurt her.

It was too late though.

The touch lured her up to wakefulness and she fluttered her eyes open. A fuzzy mess of colours greeted her and slowly came into focus, revealing an unfamiliar room and a man who could melt her with just a wicked smile.

Veiron leaned over her, tangled threads of his scarlet hair caressing his cheeks and concern in his dark eyes.

“Are you all right?” he said and she closed her eyes at the sound of his voice, savouring the effect it had on her.

Erin nodded and heard other voices. She rolled her eyes back open and sought the owners of them. A man and a woman. They stood near her feet. She looked down the length of the black fleece blanket to them and then followed the line of her legs to her chest. Something burned there. Erin pushed the covers back, still groggy from sleep and finding it hard to move when she felt so relaxed.

Her black top lay in tatters on one side. A flash of long dark valleys cutting through her flesh and blood spilling over her breast replaced the smooth clean skin she could see.

What had happened?

Erin looked up to ask Veiron and it all came sweeping back to her, crashing into her mind like an icy tidal wave. The demons had come for her and Veiron had fought them. One had got past him.

She stared up at his face and it flickered, violently switching between how he looked now and how he had appeared the last time she had set eyes on him.

Red eyes.

Black skin.

Dragon wings.

He was one of them.

Erin shook her head, her eyebrows furrowing as her heart set off at a pace. She scooted away from him on the sofa and fell over the arm of it, hitting the wooden floor hard. The heat of a fire blazed against her back. Veiron took a step towards her.

She evaded his hand as it swung at her and dived to her left, tripped on the rug, and hit the floor again.

“Get away from me.” She pushed up on her hands and made a break for it when Veiron rounded the end of the sofa nearest the fireplace. Her eyes shot wide when she spotted the woman with long black hair standing right in front of her and she tried to veer left. The tawny-haired man stood there blocking her path.

“Erin,” he said, hands raised in a calming gesture.

Erin backtracked like a startled animal and fell over the back of the sofa, bounced off the seat and hit the coffee table at a painful angle.

She clutched her aching hip and looked up. A door. Freedom.

“Erin, wait,” Veiron said and she threw a wild look over her shoulder at him. He was coming for her. She shoved the wooden table with all of her strength and he grunted when it slammed into his shins. Erin launched herself forwards.

She had made it halfway to the door when Veiron grabbed her from behind and lifted her feet off the floor.

Erin screamed at the top of her lungs and lashed out with her legs, aiming for anything. She managed to get one arm free and smashed her elbow into his stomach with as much force as she could manage. He grunted again but didn’t drop her.

“She’s going to wake the neighbours,” the woman drawled.

“Shut up,” Veiron snapped and Erin wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her or the woman, and didn’t care.

She kept screaming until her throat burned.

Veiron clamped a hand down over her mouth.

Erin bit into his palm, brought her foot down hard on his knee, and slammed her elbow into his cheek.

He dropped her.

She hit the floor knees first, sending a painful jolt through her bones that didn’t slow her down. She ran for the door, bare feet burning with each step, bringing back the horrors of Hell and what Veiron’s kind had done to her there.

Veiron reached the door before her and she ran straight into his arms.

“Erin, calm down!” He grabbed her waist but she refused to give up.

She rained blows down on his chest, pounding it as hard as she could, struggling the whole time. It had no effect, just as her punches hadn’t bothered the demons guarding her cell in Hell. Her throat closed, skin prickled, and heart raced. Images of burning rivers, black cragged spires, and endless darkness flashed across her eyes. The stench of sulphur choked her lungs. Tormented screams echoed in her ears.

“I don’t want to go back to Hell! I won’t go back.” She punched him across the jaw, snapping his head to one side. He closed his eyes, the muscle in his cheek popped, and he frowned.

Pissing him off was probably a bad move. She went back to smashing her fists against his hard chest, reddening his bare skin.

Her punches grew weaker and her head spun, her stomach rebelling in time with it. Oh, she really didn’t feel too good. Her hands settled against his chest, his strong heart pounding against her palms. She trembled, limbs weak and muscles twitching, heart a timid thing behind her breastbone.

Veiron gently cradled her, strong arms easily supporting her weight, and his chest heaved as he sighed.

“When have I ever given you the impression that I was going to take you back to Hell?” There was hurt in his voice and in his eyes when she bravely met them and it tore at her. “I have done nothing but help you.”

She couldn’t deny that. He huffed, carried her back across the room, and shoved her down onto the sofa.

His hands didn’t leave her shoulders.

He sat on the coffee table and stared at her.

“I know what you are,” she said with a glare aimed at intimidating him but failing dismally judging by how irritated he looked.

“No shit.” He rubbed his bare chest with one hand, keeping the other firmly on her shoulder.

Her thoughts raced and collided and she had half a mind to tell him to get his hands off her. She couldn’t think straight while he was touching her, or looking at her, or even near her. She needed some space or her head was going to explode. Her mind and her heart were pulling her in two different directions and she felt close to snapping.

“You’re one of them,” she whispered, unable to look him in the eye and see the pain her violent reaction to that had caused. Flipping out hadn’t been the smoothest move on her part but she hadn’t been able to stop herself. Everything she had been through had come flooding back and it had been too much for her to handle. Veiron probably thought she hated him now.

Don’t hate me.

He had told her those words just before he had gone off to fight the demonic angels.

He had known she would see what he really was and he hadn’t wanted her to flip out, and she had done just that. She had gone all psycho on him and tried to run away from him, from Veiron, the man who had walked through Hell to save her from the Devil and his own kind. The man who had taken care of her as best he could and had exposed himself to his enemies by using his powers for her sake.

Erin buried her head in her bare knees, clasped her hands over the back of her head, and cringed.

“Are you at least a good one?” she murmured into her knees.

Veiron’s grip on her shoulder loosened and she closed her eyes when he settled his hand over hers on the back of her head, his thumb stroking her interlinked fingers.

“You already know the answer to that question in your heart, Erin.” The woman. She had a British accent, London born and bred, just like Erin. Her tone carried no warmth though. Erin’s reaction hadn’t only annoyed Veiron. It had irked this woman too.

“Leave her alone, Taylor,” Veiron snapped and Erin felt a thousand times worse. He still defended her even after she had hurt him.

The beautiful Taylor was right. She did know the answer to her question. Veiron was one of the good guys and she felt sick to her stomach that she had accused him of being anything else.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and long seconds ticked by in silence. She couldn’t blame him for not speaking to her, but perhaps she could make amends and explain her actions. “I panicked... just... everything hit me again and got muddled in my head... and it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have freaked out. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

His hand stilled against hers and he squeezed them and sighed. “You don’t need to apologise, Erin. You’ve been through a lot. Freak out all you want. I won’t mind.”

She didn’t believe that for a second. She had hurt his feelings and he deserved an apology from her, and if she couldn’t get him to accept it, he would always believe that she feared him.

“Just take it easy when you do, you’re still healing.” The softness of his voice failed to cover the strained note in it. Erin slipped her hands off the back of her head and sat up. Veiron’s hand shifted to her cheek, his thumb sweeping across it as his dark eyes held hers. “You had me worried there for a moment.”

His gaze dropped to her chest and his hand followed. Erin inhaled sharply when he stroked the top of her breast and looked down, seeing her flesh cut to ribbons and blood pouring from the wounds. Her heart missed a beat and then another, and then thumped hard against her ribs.

“I thought I was going to die.” She blinked slowly to clear the tears rising in her eyes and the blood and wounds disappeared, leaving behind the reality of Veiron’s fingers gently caressing perfect skin. She raised her head again and looked into his eyes. “How?”

“Einar healed you for me. There are some tricks I can’t perform,” he said, voice low and filled with regret. He frowned and then the darkness in his eyes lifted again and he settled his palm back against her cheek. “I should’ve done a better job of protecting you.”

The heat in his eyes couldn’t mask the pain and Erin knew it wasn’t his fear of her dying or anger over his failure to protect her showing. He could pretend all he wanted, but his eyes betrayed his heart and told her that her reaction to discovering he was a demonic angel had deeply hurt him.

She leaned into his palm, wishing she knew what to say to make it all better, and frowned as the room whirled again, spinning violently.

“Are you feeling ill?” The other man this time. His concern surprised her and she slowly looked across at him, causing Veiron’s hand to fall from her face.

Rich brown eyes met hers, golden flakes in them shining in the firelight. He was as large as Veiron, thickly muscled and handsome too, wearing a black t-shirt and dark blue jeans. The man crouched beside her and touched her forehead.

There was strange heat in his touch that sent a hazy warm feeling flowing into her mind.

Erin closed her eyes and sighed, feeling infinitely better. This man’s touch was like a drug, a painkiller that pharmaceutical companies would kill to have.

“The healing is holding but you are tired. You need more rest,” he said and she nodded absently.

No, not rest. What she really needed was Veiron to accept her apology and then some answers rapidly followed by a shower.

“That’s enough, Wingless,” Veiron snarled and the man’s hand disappeared from her forehead.

Erin opened her eyes to see Veiron’s fingers locked tightly around the man’s wrist and his face a mask of darkness, a red glow around his irises.

The man he had called Wingless snapped his hand free of Veiron’s grip and held his glare. The gold in his eyes brightened and swirled. “If you want our protection, you had best start reining in that mouth of yours, Demon.”

“Boys,” Taylor said and shoved Veiron to one side. She sat where he had been on the coffee table, directly in front of Erin, and her red lips curved into a smile that would have had most men’s hearts thumping.

Erin glanced at Veiron.

He was watching Taylor.

What made the tight hot feeling in the centre of Erin’s chest worse was that when she looked back at Taylor, the woman was giving Veiron a look that left Erin feeling horribly like the two of them were or had been more than friends.

Veiron moved off to stand with his back to the fireplace. The flames cast his shadow over Taylor and Erin’s legs.

“I’m Taylor, and this is Einar.” Taylor intimated the man now sitting next to Erin on the fancy sofa, the one Veiron had called Wingless. “And this is our home.”

“And what are you?”

Taylor frowned at her. Erin didn’t apologise for the bluntness of her tone. Veiron jingled and Erin glanced at him out the corner of her eye, not missing the look he was giving Taylor as he toyed with the thong in his hair.

So this was the lover that had cared about him enough to give him a protection charm?

But the woman was clearly with the man beside her.

As if reading her thoughts, Taylor reached over and touched Einar’s hand where it rested on his knee, and looked into his eyes with blue ones that conveyed the depth of her love.