Voluptuous Vindication (12 page)

Sighing, she stood up. There was no help for it now. Rosa stepped into the room, a questioning expression on her gently-lined face. “Ah, you must be Mr. Bauer's house guest,” she said, stepping fully into the room. “Is he around?”

Sara shrugged, careful not to introduce herself. The housekeeper appeared to be harmless, and she didn't want to place an innocent mortal's life in danger. “He mentioned earlier he was stepping outside to chop wood, so he must be close by.”

She blushed, feeling guilty. “I'm sorry, I dozed off on the couch. I couldn't tell you how long ago that was.”

Rosa's body tensed, a big grin creasing her features. “Good. He'd only be in the way. We've been looking for you, Sara. You've led us on quite the merry chase, haven't you?”

Sara's eyes widened. Rosa's form began to dissolve, her frame stretching as her body grew. Pink lips turned black, her teeth shifting into long, deadly fangs.

Within seconds, the middle-aged form of the housekeeper was gone, replaced with a creature that could have only originated in the depths of Hell. Standing at least seven feet tall, his wide frame was massively built. His forehead was ridged, horns extending from the top of his skull. Most horrifying of all was his flesh. Instead of skin, the majority of his body was covered with impenetrable metal.

Backing up, Sara's mind raced as she desperately sought a way out. The being in front of her wasn't the average demon, not that she could have defeated one of them without her weapons. He was a Guardian of Hell, an elite fighter that was almost invincible. She hadn't seen one before, but every angel in existence knew of them. Finding one in this realm was unheard of.

He smiled as he watched her, enjoying the terror he could sense within her mortal frame. “Why do you want me?” She asked as her eyes flickered in each direction. Unless Ian happened to stroll in, the only way out was the glass behind her. It would hurt, and hurt bad, but the pain would be nothing compared to the pain a demon would joyfully inflict upon her.

Unsheathing a jagged-edge short sword from his side, he stepped forward. “Why do you want me?” He mocked, taking another step closer. “What is it with mortals always needing a reason why? I'll give you one, though. You're fixing to interfere with our plans in Las Vegas, and that's not going to happen. So be a good girl. Come over here, and let's get this over with.”

“You're lying,” she forced out through gritted teeth. “A sleaze bag like you would never end it quickly. Demons thrive on pain and torment, torturing a soul until there is nothing left.”

He laughed, the sound piercing her eardrums like sharp shards of glass. “You know us well,” he agreed, raising his sword. “But I prefer to do my playing in Hell. Don't worry, little angel. I'll soon have you down there, and the real games can began. I haven't had one of you before. I'm really going to enjoy this.”

His sword arm started to descend. Grabbing up the heavy vase beside her, Sara swung it as hard as she could in the direction of his face. Her aim was true, the vase shattering as it hit. Darting around him, she ran as quickly as she could.

Sara didn't get far. The demon grabbed the bun at the back of her head, his sharp talons tearing into scalp. Yanking her around like a rag doll, he picked her up and threw her into the wall.

Pain exploded through her body as she hit before landing on the floor. Coming to her feet, she moved fast, throwing anything at the demon her hands could come in contact with. “Ian,” Sara screamed loudly. “Ian, help me.”

The demon raised his sword. At the last second, Sara ducked, the sword embedding itself into the wall. Breathing harshly, she ran for the doorway.

“Ian,” she screamed, her throat raw. How far away was he? Already her mortal form was tiring. Sara wasn't sure how much longer she could hold out.

The demon stepped out into the hallway behind her, his eyes turning red. “Stop pissing me off,” he rasped out, his long legs quickly eating up the distance between them. “There's no place for you to run, little angel, no place to hide.”

Sara darted into the living room. During her illness, she'd spent days within the large room and had grown quite familiar with its contents. Running to the shelf, she picked up a vial, holding it next to her thigh as she flipped the lid up. Praying that her hunch was correct, she stood still as he walked up to her.

Raising his sword again, he growled out, “Martyring yourself for the cause? Smart choice. You would have never escaped us. Never.”

Sara remained calm, gripping the bottle in her sweaty palm. “Never say never,” she replied, throwing the contents in his face.

The demon screamed, slashing out blindly with his sword. Sara jumped back but not quickly enough. The razor sharp tip tore through the flesh of her thigh, making her cry out in pain.

Fighting to stay on her feet, she whirled, hobbling to the front door. The demon was still standing where she'd left him, tearing at his eyes. His supernatural body would heal quickly, though. Hers wouldn't.  She only had seconds to find Ian.

Pulling the door open, she stepped out into the coldness of the icy night.“Ian,” Sara yelled, her voice coming out in a scratchy whisper. Talking loudly was a wasted effort. Her vocal cords were strained beyond their natural limits.

The world beyond the front door was as beautiful as it was forbidding. Snow covered every surface, the driveway they'd drove in on only visible from the efforts of a snow plow. In another time, Sara would have been charmed. Now, the snow and ice only represented another obstacle standing in the way of her survival.

Behind her, the demon reached for his sword. “Ian,” she called again, running down the concrete steps. Her voice was hoarse and raw, coming and going as it was able. Already the extreme chill was affecting her body, the heated blood from her thigh cooling as soon as it ran out.

A powerful hand grabbed her from the side, pulling her close as he spun them back to the doorway. Crumpling against him, Sara was relieved to see the sword in his own hand as he cursed. “Shit, it's a Guardian,” he hissed, moving them toward the SUV.

He released her long enough to grab his key chain from his pocket. Moving to the passenger side, he urged her in before running around the front. Laying his sword down, he jumped in and started the motor, backing out quickly.

“What in the hell happened in there?” Ian growled out, reversing in a way the average person never could. It was pitch black out, the only lighting the small reverse lights at the rear of the vehicle. He moved in between the piles of snow easily before hitting the road and throwing it in gear.

“Buckle in,” he added tersely, flipping the headlights on bright. They tore off down the icy road.

“Your housekeeper,” Sara croaked out, each word harsh and painful. “She was the Guardian.”

Ian muttered an expletive, his fingers gripping the steering wheel. “She must have let him in,” he ground out, his attractive features stark and harsh in the lighting from the dashboard. “I hate that her mortal life had to end that way. Rosa was a good woman, or so I thought. None of us really knows what lies in the heart of another, though. There was an opening there, a way for him to take her over. Still, it was a terrible way for her life to end.”

His alert eyes scanned both sides of the road before moving to the rear and side mirrors. He gave her a quick once over, missing nothing. “How badly are you hurt?”

“I'll live,” Sara said simply, her throat to painful to elaborate. Her teeth chattered, her body cold.

He reached behind the seat, pulling out a folded blanket. “Wrap up in this.”

She took it from him and spread it across her lap. Bunching the edge up in one hand, she pressed it against the wound in her leg without saying a word. Their situation was too terse. He didn't need a new problem to worry about, not when he was trying to save their lives.

“Have you fought a Guardian before?”

Ian gave a quick shake of his head. “I've never even seen one before, but I know all about them. If he's in pursuit, that will change. I'll have to fight him, a Guardian never stops. He'll continue to pursue us until he's sent back to Hell, or gets what he wants. Since having you isn't an option, it looks like the body bag it is. I won't let him have you, Sara.”

His words comforted her as much as they upset her. Ian meant what he said, and he would do all he could to protect her. But she didn't want him hurt. She felt safer with this Endurer than she could ever recall being... And it was a good feeling.

Ian pulled his cell phone out, dialing a number and putting it on speakerphone. He was quiet as it rang, cursing in a low tone when it went to voice mail. At the beep, he said, “Arch, it's Ian as I'm sure you already know. A Guardian of Hell has just destroyed my mansion. The sooner you can call me back, the more likely you'll still catch me alive.”

He hung up, dropping the phone into the empty holder on the center console. “Leave it to Arch. You can never get him when you really need him.”

Sara looked out the window next to her. A light reflected from behind them in her side mirror. Leaning forward she studied it before turning to look. Two red eyes stared back at her.

She drew in a deep breath of horror. “He's here,” she rasped out, her heart racing. “He's behind us, about twenty feet back. Somehow, he's keeping up with us, but I don't see how. It's almost like he's attached the back, letting the SUV pull him along.”

“Damn,” Ian bit out, looking in the rear view mirror. He was quiet for a moment before sighing. “Well, this is it, then,” he added, his tone bland. “Should be interesting.”

Sara swallowed hard. The only thing standing between her and certain death was this man, but her well-being didn't matter to her as much as his did. The thought of him dying to protect her was unbearable. Without him, she wouldn't stand a chance, anyhow.

“Do you know how to drive, Sara?” He asked, casually.

“Yes, not great, but I do know how to do it.”

“Good,” he replied, his voice level. “At the top of the hill, I'm going to stop. When I do, I want you to climb over here and take off. Don't look back, just keep driving. You'll hit a town about ten minutes up the road. Pull into the truck stop, but don't park the vehicle away from the others. Find the busiest section and pull right in the middle of it.”

“No, Ian,” Sara cried out, shaking her head vehemently. “I can't leave you here.”

“You have no choice,” he hissed out, picking the cell phone up and laying it in her hand. “Having you here will just be a liability, keeping you within easy access for him to use you against me. Now, listen to me. Once you get parked, I want you to find the number for Arch on my phone. Keep dialing it until you get an answer. He'll know what to do from there. Arch won't fail you, even if I do.”

They started up the base of the long hill. She had just seconds left with this man, and it wasn't enough. In the brief time she'd known him, Ian had brought more to her life than she'd ever imagined having. He'd nursed her, protected her, and even desired her, things she'd never have experienced if she hadn't met him. Now he was risking his very existence, all to keep her safe. There were no words that would ever be enough.

“Ian,” she sobbed out, her spirit broken by the possibility of never seeing him again.

“Quiet, now,” Ian replied, pulling to a halt. He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. Then he put it in park and quickly hopped out, beckoning for her to climb over.

When she did, he pulled his sword. “Remember what I said, Sara. Keep driving and don't look back.”

Slamming the door before she could respond, he banged the top twice and yelled, “Go!”

Sobbing, Sara did the hardest thing she'd had to do in her thousands of years of existence. She pushed the accelerator down and left her Endurer behind.

Chapter 8

Sara pulled into the lot designated for cars, throwing the gear into park. Grabbing the cellphone, she selected Arch's name and waited as it rang. “Come on, Arch,” she whispered to herself.

He answered on the fourth ring. “Yes, Ian?” He asked, in a droll tone of voice.

“
Arch, it's Sara,” she rasped out painfully. “I need help.”

His voice changed immediately. “Where's Ian,” he barked out. “What's wrong with your voice?”

“A Guardian of Hell has him,” she replied, speaking past the thick lump of pain in her throat. “I don't know if he's dead or alive. He told me to come to this truck stop and call you.”

Arch was silent for a moment. Finally, he said, “Ian can't take on a Guardian by himself. I'm on my way. Next to the truck stop is a small motel, a throwback from the 1950's. Leave the SUV where you have it, but walk over and check in. They won't ask for ID and don't use your name. The clerk will give you room number eight. Stay in there until you hear back from me.”

“I don't,” Sara started to say, but Arch cut her off.

“Check the black duffel bag in the trunk. Ian was prepared.” He ended the call without another word.

Taking deep breaths to calm her nerves, Sara looked in the review mirror. She was a mess. Her face was cut and bruising heavily. It couldn't be helped. A motel that didn't ask for identification didn't sound like one that would be too concerned with getting in someone else's business, though. 

Turning the engine off, she got out. It was cold enough to steal her breath away, the blood on her leg turning cold fast. Limping to the back, she opened it. Arch was right, not that she would have doubted him. Unzipping the duffel bag, she found everything she could need, from a first-aid kit to a large amount of cash.

Zipping it back up, she grabbed the black hoodie laying next to it and slid it on. It ended well-beneath her thighs, covering the still-bleeding gash. Pulling it up over her head, she lifted the bag and slammed the door closed, carefully locking the vehicle behind her.

Spotting the motel, Sara walked to it slowly. Her leg throbbed, the icy lot making it difficult to navigate. Fear for Ian overwhelmed her. Blinking back her tears, she forced herself to keep moving. Reaching the door of the motel, she stopped to fortify herself before walking into the square shaped lobby.

Arch hadn't been kidding. The motel was a throwback from the 1950's. Instead of walls, it was closed in by glass on three sides. On the other side was a counter, with a mustached man sitting behind it. The lighting was dim, the inside only lit with candles and lanterns. Shivering, she let the glass door slam shut behind her.

He stared at her curiously before closing the magazine he'd been looking at. “You here for a room?”

“Yes, do you have vacancies?” Sara asked politely.

He snorted. “That's all we have are vacancies, thanks to the wonderfully epic storms we keep having.” Gesturing around him, he continued, “The power is out, though. We have some candles that you can use.”

“What about heat?”

“If you pay full price, I'll set you up with a kerosene heater. How long will you need the room?”

“Just for the night,” she replied, walking slowly to the counter and laying the black bag on it. “How much is it?”

“Fifty dollars, and the water is hot. Our tanks run off of gas, so you'll still be able to shower.”

Reaching into the bag, she was careful to keep the cash concealed. Nobody could be too careful in desperate times. Even the nicest of people sometimes harbored the darkest of secrets, especially when they were cold, hungry, and without heat or power.

He took the money and handed her a key. “Give me a second to grab the heater and lock up. I'll meet you outside.”

“Sure,” Sara replied, sliding the bag back on her shoulder. “What room number is it?”

“Eight,” he replied, pointing at the very end of the building. “It's the last one.”

Thanking him, Sara stepped outside. Grabbing the flashlight out of the bag, she turned it on and made her way down the sidewalk. The motel was old, small in the way that only those built in those times were. Finding her room, she stopped and unlocked it.

The interior was nearly as cold as the exterior. Lighting the two candles he'd given her, she stepped back out and saw the desk clerk making his way to her. He was carrying a kerosene heater and a plastic kerosene can.

“So are you here by yourself?” He asked cheerfully, walking past her to set his load on the floor. Picking the can up, he bent over the the heater. 

“No,” she replied hesitantly, wishing he'd hurry up. “I'm traveling with someone else. He'll be here in just a few minutes.”

He stood back up, shaking his can. “I grabbed the wrong one,” the clerk explained, smiling. “I'll be right back. I think I dropped the cap. Mind looking for it while I'm gone?”

Sighing, Sara bent over painfully to look for the misplaced cap, eager to send him on his way.

* * * * *

A bright flash of blue filled the vacant area behind the motel, disappearing nearly as quickly as it appeared. Two extremely large males made their way to the front. One of them had a slight limp to his stride, hidden so well it was nearly unnoticeable.

At the edge of the building, the one in front stopped. Arch held his hand up, motioning for silence. After a moment, he gestured for Ian to go around him.

Moving with a natural stealth, Ian stepped up onto the sidewalk. His senses were on full alert, his conditioned body disregarding his injuries. Something was up. Stepping to the doorway of room number eight, his puzzlement turned to anger.

Sara was on her knees on the floor, her back to the door. A human male crept up behind her, not realizing he was being watched. His arm was raised, a heavy flashlight in his hand. In a split second, Ian summed up the situation.

“You bastard,” Ian growled out, swinging the surprised male around to face him. He was angered beyond belief. “You simple, unimaginable bastard. Why don't you try using that flashlight on me?”

Sara turned her head and gasped. Arch stepped in behind him, watching it all silently. The mortal male just stared at him, his jaw slack. Ian grabbed his shirt, gripping it tightly as he pulled him out onto the sidewalk.

“I ought to kick your ass,” he roared, shaking him. “Who the hell do you think you are, hurting innocent women?”

“I wasn't,” the clerk finally answered, shaking. The flashlight fell to the ground. He was a bully, and he didn't like dealing with someone more powerful than he was.

“Don't you lie to me,” Ian hissed, his eyes narrowed. “I know what I saw, and I know what kind of game you were playing. You thought you'd hurt her, possibly even kill her, just for the contents of that bag.”

“No, man,” he replied, shaking his head in denial. “You got it all wrong.”

“He's got it all right,” Arch jumped in, his voice chilling. It was quite the switch from his usual droll tone of voice. Whatever he'd seen of the human male, it was bad. “You've done this before. Haven't you, Hugo?”

“How do you know my name?” Hugo gasped, his face paling as if he were about to pass out. Ian shook him again to keep him conscious.

“The how doesn't matter. I know everything about you, and it isn't pretty. You're asking the wrong question here,” Arch continued silkily. “You should be asking what the next few seconds will hold for you.”

Ian tightened his grip, his mind replaying the sight of the clerk standing over Sara with the heavy metal flashlight. One hard blow could have shattered her skull, possibly even killing her. If they'd been just a minute later. He pulled his large fist back, desperately needing to pummel his face in. 

Hugo read the deadly intent in his eyes. He started to sob, the noise grating on Ian's nerves. “I'm sorry, man. Business is slow, and I've got to eat, too.”

“That's not the way you go about keeping your belly full,” Ian roared back. “It's never okay to hurt those around you.”

His body trembled with rage, but killing the clerk wasn't the answer. He tossed Hugo into a snow pile. The sobbing human rolled over to stare up at him, his eyes filled with terror. “I'm letting you go, but realize this. I'll be watching you. If you hurt someone else, I'll know, and I'll be back to finish what I started.”

Hugo got up and ran back to the office.

Arch chuckled. “Well done. For a moment, I thought Hugo was going to be toast.”

Ian ignored him, looking for Sara. She stood in the doorway of the motel room, her arms wrapped around her body as she shivered from the cold. His black hoodie was zipped up around her curvy form, tight around the middle but hanging down low. Sara wore it well.

“I'm going to head out now,” Arch said, his voice uncomfortable. Ian barely heard him. His focus was on the blonde beauty standing in front of him, watching him with her large, expressive blue eyes.

A flash of light signaled Arch's departure, but neither one acknowledged it. Ian stalked forward, his eyes never leaving Sara's face. The events of the night had changed everything for him. He'd fought and nearly died for her. It was time to claim his victory prize.

Ian stopped only inches away. “Come here, Sara.”

She sobbed. Without hesitation, she ran into his opened arms. “Ian, I'm so glad you're alive.”

He scented blood. Pulling away, he looked down at her. “Where are you hurt?”

“It's nothing,” she replied, watching him. “We're both alive, and that's all that matters.” Then Sara did the most surprising thing of all. She pulled his face down to hers, pressing her lips against his.

Her tongue darted out, tracing the seam of his lips.
She was a fast learner.
He took control of the kiss, mastering it, the blood lust of the battle still pumping in his veins. Growling low in his throat, he tilted her head back, holding nothing back.

Bending at the knees, he picked her up, his forearm resting underneath the plump cheeks of her ass. Carrying her with one arm, he went into the room and kicked the door shut. Setting her down on the bed, he quickly locked the door and started the heater.

Sara hadn't moved from the spot he had left her. “It will be warm in a few minutes. I'm going to clean your wound. And then, I'm going to strip every bit of material from that sweet body of yours, and I'm going to take you, Sara.”

He turned away, walking into the bathroom to regain control. His hands trembled with restrained need as he turned on the hot water. Thankfully, his hunch had been correct. The water was hot, heated by gas instead of electricity.

Grabbing a large washcloth and wetting it, he returned to the room. “Stand up and show me where you're hurt.”

Pulling the hoodie off, she stood up and unzipped the jacket. Several cuts and bruises marred the pale perfection of her face. Ian pulled her glasses off and set them on the table. “That bastard at the house did this?”

Sara nodded, her cheeks turning pink. Gently, he cleaned her face. Once again, Ian was cast as caretaker. With Sara, it just felt natural. “Where else are you hurt?”

“My leg,” Sara replied, her voice raw.

“Show me,” Ian dared, holding his breath in anticipation.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she slowly pulled the ankle length skirt up to her thigh. Ian swallowed back a groan at the sight of her curvy, well-rounded legs. His cock hardened instantly as he made a vow.
The night wouldn't end without those long legs wrapped around his hips.

Dropping down to his knees in front of her, he couldn't resist sliding his hands up her legs. Starting at her ankles, he took his time. They were cold, instantly warming from the heat of his hands. “You have beautiful legs, Angel.”