The Demon Within (19 page)

Completely exasperated, Caly was ready to smack him. “Why didn’t you say that sooner?” She took a step away from him to cover the way her fingers shook at the near miss.

“We have only one shot.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes and down his haggard face. Weariness slumped his shoulders, and Caly resisted the urge to comfort him. He gazed up at her with stark eyes. “Frankly, I never heard of any who’d succeeded. The only way to destroy the medallion itself would be if the owner took matters into his own hands. It would be suicide for them.”

“Then what can we do?” She hated to be helpless, hated not knowing a way to break free of this death sentence.

“To activate the weapons, they need a certain type of person to control the power. An unclaimed wielder. The longer we retain the key, the more time we buy ourselves while they hunt for it. They can’t start their search for the wielders without it.”

Everything clicked into place. “My group was targeted and sent to the temple, not only to wake them, but because they think one of us can unlock the key. They attacked the warehouse looking for this.”

“That would be my guess.” Ruman shrugged as if he hadn’t just revealed that everything she’d worked so hard to protect would be destroyed. Even if she got rid of the medallion, they’d still come for her people.

“I’ve never had a chance to talk to any of the angels who rebelled, so I’m not sure how the process works. Their sins went to a higher source.”

That piece of information sidetracked her. “Angels sin?” For some reason the thought amused her, and she couldn’t help smile.

Ruman didn’t return her humor. “How do you think we got into this mess in the first place?”

He sounded so disgruntled, Caly had to turn away and hide her grin.

“Although it cost you almost everyone to retrieve the medallion, you and your team managed a task few could accomplish.” He looked down at his palm and slowly flipped over the key. A name blazed on the back. “Azazel.”

It took a moment to register where she’d heard that name before. “He was one of the leaders of the Fallen.” But something about the name eluded her. “Is he the owner of the keys?”

“Azazel created thirteen medallions, issuing them to angels with the capability for war. He had a soft spot for humans, which limits the number of potential owners.” Ruman sat against the edge of the desk, his posture not as upright and proud.

“So we wait.” The answer did not satisfy her. An idea teased at the back of her mind, so dangerous she almost dismissed it. But she couldn’t sit here and wait for her people to be murdered. She whirled and advanced on him. He must not have liked the expression for he held up his hands and backed away.

“I have a plan.”

Chapter Fourteen

“I
cannot believe you talked me into this asinine scheme,” Ruman grumbled under his breath, but he knew if he’d refused, she would’ve found a way to confront Azazel in his desert prison without him and that scared the bejesus out of him.

He would’ve tried to appeal to her reasonable side, caution her about the dangers, but she didn’t possess an iota of self-preservation when her friend’s lives were threatened. He gazed at her seated next to him on the red-eye, and his gut clenched. Nothing could happen to her. “It’s a suicide mission.”

Caly smiled wickedly and shrugged. “What do you care? It’ll bring you one step closer to saving my life and gaining your freedom.”

What she said was true, but that didn’t take away the lead weight in his stomach. If anything, it sank deeper and sprouted roots. He wouldn’t allow her to die. The thought had him sweating.

That’s how messed up his assignment had become. She should be like any other person he had guarded in the past, but she had to do things the hard way.

This assignment mattered.

Her life mattered.

And to top things off, he was reduced to travel by plane. Travel didn’t bother him, but traveling in this contraption was just unnatural. Thankfully, Henry decided to stay with the troop and monitor the activity in town. The buffoon’s broad hints of something underhanded taking place between Caly and himself preyed on his nerves. It wouldn’t be long before he decked the idiot.

The plane bucked and the seatbelt sign flashed. Ruman looked at the latch secured across his lap and pulled the belt tighter. Flimsy polyester. Who did the manufacturers think they were fooling? The spindly strap couldn’t hold a child, much less an adult in place.

A low, sexy chuckle prickled along his skin, curled around his senses and called to him like a siren. He fell under her spell without a whimper of protest. Head still lowered, he slanted a glance at the witch.

“You didn’t have to travel with me. You manage amazingly well by…unconventional means.”

Subtlety wasn’t her strong suit, but at least her words were cryptic enough so others wouldn’t understand. “Although I don’t enjoy riding in a tin can with wings,” he cast a derisive look around, “traveling alone is unacceptable.”

A snort escaped, and she raised an arm to indicate the fellow passengers. “Hardly alone. There are at least two hundred other people on board.”

“My job is to protect you—”

“I don’t need your protection.” She lowered her voice and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “I have managed quite well on my own and I don’t need anyone, let alone
you
, to tell me how to go about it.” She unbuckled her belt and rose.

The warmth of her breath, the smoky sound of her voice distracted him, almost allowing her to escape. He snatched her wrist before she took a step, taking pleasure in the simple touch. He nodded to the front of the cabin. “The sign says to remain seated.”

He cursed himself for his weakness to her. If he couldn’t stifle his emotions, he’d end up putting her in danger. She’d play him the first chance she got, just like all the other humans he’d met. The only way he knew how to counter her was to keep her near him at all times.

But the proximity was the problem. The attraction between them grew the longer they remained together. He feared they’d both suffer for it before the mission was complete.

“Is there a problem?” A flight attendant stood in the aisle, a polite smile in place.

Before Ruman could speak, Caly stepped forward, breaking his hold.

“I’m feeling unwell and need to use the restroom.”

The petite blonde hesitated before she nodded, “There are a few empty seats in coach by the bathrooms.”

Ruman watched as Caly walked away, furious but unwilling to make a scene. He touched his seatbelt to follow when the plane jerked. He hastily tightened the strap. It wasn’t like she could go far.

“Don’t worry. It’s only a little turbulence.” For the next four hours, he heard Caly’s laughter drift from the back of the plane. The husky sound tightened the band of muscles of his shoulders. He would’ve given chase, but the blonde had him trapped. Every time he attempted retrieve Caly, she came back again like a rash.

He could lie and say he needed to make up with his girlfriend, but that would mean crossing the metal framing between first class and coach. It would weaken him and leave Caly vulnerable. It was hard enough to sit in the tin can. Getting on and off drained him more than he wanted to admit. Even now, the metal seeped into him like slow poison. Moving around would be torture.

The little twit knew she was beyond his reach. He was tempted to do it anyway to see how she reacted, but teaching her a lesson wasn’t worth the cost of her life.

Neck craned, he caught a glimpse of Caly’s cinnamon brown hair only infrequently. Not often enough to suit him. Through the parted curtain, he saw a man reach across the aisle and touch her arm. Fury ripped through him at the man’s audacity. As Caly turned, he waited for her to blast the man.

Instead, she smiled. When she leaned closer, the curtain between the compartments closed. The blonde continued to babble to him every time she passed, but Ruman didn’t hear anything above the pounding fury of his blood.

Pain radiated from his hands, and he glanced down to see the heavy plastic of the armrest ooze between his fingers. All to prevent himself from ripping the guy’s head off. Breathing the tin-tasting recycled air did nothing to soothe his nerves.

By conscious effort, he loosened his hold, idly contemplating crossing the barrier between the two classes, almost wishing for the pain just to be able to smash the man to smithereens. Physical agony would distract him from the violent emotions that roared inside him.

No one touched Caly except for him. Especially not some unwashed, skinny human. The only thing preventing him was the thought of her wandering around alone while he recuperated. Somehow, he didn’t think she would remain where he put her.

* * *

“Enjoy your stay.”

The stewardess who’d remained at Ruman’s side the whole trip waved and winked at him. Really, you’d think she’d have more to do then cater to one passenger. Every time Caly stood to return to her seat, the woman would be there offering Ruman a pillow or blanket. It sickened her to watch some other woman touch him. On the fourth round, Caly knew she couldn’t stomach being seated next to him, watching him romance another woman. Every time a roguish smile came to Ruman’s lips, she wanted to rip out his throat.

The man had enough blankets and pillows to start his own harem. The ass professed to accompany her on the trip to keep her safe. Instead, he sat in first class, flirting the whole way across the Atlantic.

She’d thought when the dirt bag with bad breath reached for her, he’d come to her rescue. The college kids with him were determined to have a good time, and she was the entertainment. She nearly crushed his hand when he tried to touch her. That shut them up for a while until they grew a pair of balls between the three of them and tried flirting again.

And he’d been too busy with
her
to even spot the potential for trouble. Caly admitted she could’ve excused herself and returned to her seat, but she needed a little breathing room past the attraction that had her twisted up in knots.

But apparently the attraction wasn’t as mutual as she’d thought. No doubt if she searched his pockets, she’d find the blonde’s number.

It was better this way she told herself, but the reassurance felt hollow.

At the terminal, she claimed her weapons, more than ready to leave this place. Arms laden, she walked to the exit, eager to feel the early pre-dawn air on her flesh, purposely ignoring Ruman as he sulked a pace behind her.

Only to come to a stop at the exit. She tightened her lips then shifted her bundles to reach for the door. She’d bet he’d open the door for the blonde.

“Need help?” His query held no inflection of any kind.

Her muscles quivered under the strain of the bags. She cast a narrow look at him and bit back a snarl. “No, thanks. I think I have it now.” At his answering shrug, she barely resisted the urge to slap him upside the head.

While they waited for a taxi, she let go of her burdens. Sitting on her large weapon case, she studied the man next to her. Since the plane, his attitude had changed from overprotective to the complete opposite. She resisted the urge to check her pulse to make sure she hadn’t dropped dead. She hated to admit it, but she preferred the fire to this indifference.