Savage Bond (The Fallen) (15 page)

Maybe he should have been all poetry at being handed the possibility of a dream, but this wasn't going to be pretty. He didn't know the exact mechanics, but he'd seen the vid. Hard and rough, the Change took a Fallen apart from the inside out and reassembled him. He just hoped it was fast, because trouble was closing in on them even faster.

The unmistakable sound of something large and heavy struck the roof overhead. The roof held. Temporarily. Even she had to see that their shelter couldn't withstand that kind of strike for long. Sure enough, the blow repeated and a shower of dust and debris rained down on them, accompanied by the sharp crack of too-old wood splitting.

"They've found us." She pointed the gun at the ceiling, then back at the door. As if she wasn't sure which direction trouble would come from.

"Keep that gun up," he gritted out through his teeth when she lowered the weapon at the sound of his groan. 

She ignored his instructions. "You're hurting." She pushed against his side, taking his weight as he staggered from the second blast of pain radiating through him.

Another heavy blow shook their refuge.
God. Damn. It.

His lips peeled back with a snarl. "Gun. Up." She didn't go unprotected.

She braced him, braced the gun. "I've got it," she snarled right back.

Pride flooded him. God, she was fierce and that was a beautiful thing.
She
was beautiful, inside and out. He'd wanted this because he wanted to get her out of here. More than a promise to a bond mate. He needed to do this for her and he would. Whatever it took, he got her over that wall and back home.

He sucked air in desperately as a third wave of pain hit. Head down, teeth bared, he panted through the agony. The skin on his back tightened, the white ropes of scars where Michael had ripped away his wings forced open as the new wings began pushing through the old skin, reaching for the surface.

Faster
.

Each rough inhale brought with it the familiar, unwelcome scent. The metallic tang of the rogues. Coming for Ria. "We have to get out of here," he bit out. "The rogues are coming, Ria. We need to be ready for them. Don't let them pin you down inside."

She smoothed a hand over his shoulder. That gentle touch undid him. "You can't go anywhere, Vkhin." He didn't have to see to know she had that stubborn look in her eyes. She'd made up her mind, picked her course. "This is insane. You're hurting."

He was, but pain had never kept him from doing what he had to do. He wasn't failing now, not when Ria's life was at stake.

"Go," he growled, leaning heavily on her until she stumbled towards the door. Another heavy blow shook the building and she staggered, fighting to keep on her feet.

"Serve you right if I shoot you," she grumbled.

He took a step forward and the tip of his new wings slammed through his back, tearing through the scarred skin of his back. Each violent wrench split him a little further open, until he threw back his head, gritting his teeth. The bones of his shoulders and ribs broke and reformed, flowing into an alien shape. He couldn't, wouldn't, scream when the enemy was so close but the rush of sensations was too fast and hard. Everything was coming back to him. He'd been prepared for the pain, but not for the emotions.

Sliding the safety back on, Ria dropped to the dusty floor beside him. "You don't have to do this alone," she said. He'd planned to, though. He'd been determined to do this alone. He didn't know how the Change worked, but having her here, with him, felt right. It sure as hell felt better. Her hands pulled his head down into her lap, one stroking his forehead, the other palming his gun. Anyone came through that door, she had the leverage she needed to blow their goddamned heads off.

He'd never been proud of anyone before, not since the Fall. Now, he was proud of Ria Morgan. She'd been thrown into his dark and violent world and she was holding her head up. Holding her own. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, but the pain was coming back now, faster and harder than before and all he could do was hold on.

Her voice was whispering something to him and he wished he could hear the words, but pain was a red tide washing over him. Instead, he pressed his face against her leg, savoring the soft, vulnerable warmth of her thigh beneath his cheek. Sucking a breath in, he rode out the pain as her scent hit him hard.  This was for her.

This was so right.

Bone cracked loudly, the sharp sound ricocheting off the walls of their decaying refuge. This was it. He focused on everything he felt for his Ria, because he had to keep her safe and this was the only way to do it.

His wings erupted through the passage they'd carved in his back.

"Oh, my God, Vkhin." Her thigh tensed beneath him, shock pushing through her. "You did it."

The pain receded and he lifted his head. Twelve feet long, his wings covered the  floor, lush, dark feathers covering the finely curved arches. He felt stronger than before, the weakness draining from him as suddenly as it had hit. He stretched, savoring the pull of his muscles. His wings weren't there for pretty. They were weapons.

Muscled strength designed to send him driving through the open sky after his prey, to make him bigger, stronger. Faster. He opened them hard and fast, because now he had what he needed to get her out of here. Loss and savage, fierce gladness filled him. Now he could keep her safe—so he could lose her again.

Pushing rapidly to his feet, he furled his wings tight against his body, let the feathers disappear back into his skin. If she looked, he knew she'd see the dark outline of his wings tattooed against his back, waiting for the moment he summoned them.

The roof shook, hairline fractures appearing in the plastered ceiling. He held out a hand to her. "Come on."

She didn't hesitate, gave him her hand and let him pull her to her feet.

"Alright," she said. "Where are we going?"

"Out," he said. The need to take care of her burned through him. "It's time to go home."

Chapter Nine

Shit hit the fan before Vkhin even cleared the lodge door. There was no time to fly out as the rogues came in hard, palming weapons and rushing their exit point. Ria looked up, because maybe she believed there was still a chance backup came riding to the rescue, but the sky was blue—and empty. Still not a chopper in sight, so she and Vkhin were clearly on their own here.

The full court press meant Vkhin wasn't getting his wings open to take her up and out, either. There just wasn't enough room to spread those wings of his. No, the rogues just keep moving forward, trying to pin them or drive them back inside the building. She had a bad feeling about that option.

"You ready for this?" Vkhin didn't look at her, but his whole body screamed anticipation. A fight was coming and he just couldn't wait. She opened her mouth to answer—although she didn't know what to tell him—but then grabbed his shoulder as dust kicked up beneath a pair of powerful wings downstroking their way onto the battlefield.

The rogue who landed between them and the pack was just more bad news. He was as large and as dark as his soldiers, but anger and rage had twisted his features into a dark mimicry of the beautiful angel he must once have been. He drew in his crimson wings as he landed, the snap of the membranes closing sharply final. Those wings were the color of blood, the sharp warning crimson of a shepherd's moon.

That one was clearly the most insane of a bad lot.

 "Fallen." The rogue's voice sounded like splintered wood, rough and broken. She didn't want to know what kind of shit life had handed out to make him sound that way.

Vkhin's cold eyes burned into the other angel. "Hazor. Leave us."

"Can't do that. It's too late for this one." Hazor flicked a finger at Ria. "She shouldn't have come here, shouldn't have poked her nose in our business."

 "And?" Vkhin sounded icy, bored.

 "Hand her over, Fallen. You do that, you go right on your way. My fight isn't with you." The pack crowded closer behind their leader, their faces twisted with avarice and rage as they stared past Vkhin and right at her. God. This wasn't going to end well.

One of the rogues slipped closer, his wings trailing on the ground. "She's pretty, Hazor."

"Tasty," the third hissed.

"And she has something of ours," Hazor pointed out. "So you tell me, Fallen, if we're doing this the easy way."

 "Easy for who?" she asked, slipping her hand around the gun's handle. She knew bullets alone wouldn't be enough to save her here, but the cool metal was comforting. A potent reminder that she could do something here, even if that something didn't work.

Hazor ignored her, speaking directly to Vkhin as if she didn't exist. Didn't matter. "Give us the female and the vidstick. That's all we need and we'll be off."

She wondered for a long moment if Vkhin could, would make that trade. Would he have, if they hadn't bonded? The delicate black markings twining around her wrists confirmed his commitment, but she didn't want to sit back and watch. Not this time.

"I can't do that." Vkhin's blades came out as he refused the other's offer and his wings unfurled from the tattoo on his back. Ready to fight. Ready to uphold his end of their bargain.

The rogue angel shook his head mockingly. "Can't or won't, mate?"

His companion sneered. "Look at his wrists. Look at hers. They've bonded. They're soul mates." Whispers filled the air like rain hitting leaves. Sibilant. Shocked.

"What does that mean?" she muttered. "Soul mate?"

Vkhin's hand tucked her behind him. "Don't move. I'm going to kill them and then I'm going to take you home."

He was keeping secrets from her
. It was far too late to start second-guessing herself. She'd made a decision to trust him when she'd decided to lay down next to him and do a little bonding of her own.

Hazor was more than happy to clue her in. "Soul mate means you're his one and only, darling. You're the needle in the haystack the archangel put here on this Earth for your mate to find.  He finds you, he gets himself a free pass. The little matter of his Fall? All forgiven and forgotten and he gets himself back his wings."

Those dark wings of his flowed around her, long, lethal curves with deceptively soft feathers. Was she just a means to an end for Vkhin? He was ruthless. But was he that heartless?

Vkhin didn't move. "She's more than just a pair of wings."

So fuck it. She took a step forward, putting herself alongside him. She wouldn't hide behind him. Either she stood next to him—or she didn't.

Hazor smiled slowly. "If she's a bloody soul mate, we'll just have to kill you first, Fallen."

Hazor and his pack died today. Vkhin ignored the rage pounding through his veins because anger got a warrior killed on the battlefield more times than not. That fury was still there, though, beating at him as he eyed his oncoming.  His bond with Ria Morgan was something special. He wouldn't let them defile it.

Inhale. Exhale.

Find the ice cold center in his heart where he was all lethal killer. He planted his boots, rocking back on his heels as readied himself for the attack. When her arm brushed against his, though, the rage threatened to come right back up from the hole where he'd shoved it.
No one threatened his female.

He'd kill these and have enough time to get her over the wall. With the wings, that was possible. Quick weapons check said he was good for the moment. He had blades strapped to his forearms and thighs, plus a handful of throwing stars. And the shotgun in its scabbard on his back.

He'd start with the shotgun.

Beside him, Ria had her chin up, facing forward. Determination was written all over her beautiful, stubborn face.

"You need to know something," he said. Bracing the stock against his shoulder, he sighted down the barrel and took aim. Fired. One down.

"You're packing enough ammo to take them all down?" she said hopefully.

"Two things."  No time to reload, so he pulled and threw, the first of his blades arcing through the air with deadly intent. "First, since we're soul mates, you don't die until or unless I do." While his target hit the ground, he pumped the gun hard, the spent shell finding ground as the next up hit the empty chamber.