Page 44 of Touched By Death

“Dammit, Daemon,” I growl, reaching behind me to crush the cigarette in the ashtray. When I turn back, his finger is on my lips in a bid to silence the tirade that’s threatening to spill from my lips, but like an avalanche, there’s no stopping it. “I love you, Daemon. We all love you. Don’t you get it? While you were trapped in the cellar, being subjected to God only knows what kind of torture, I was going out of my mind with worry. Ronan and Alaric were the only things that kept me from going after the angels hurting you. It was hell!” I point to my chest, tears wobbling in my eyes. “I was in hell.”

His thumb ghosts my cheekbone, drawing a rattling breath from my aching lungs.

“So I’m asking you, what happened, Daemon? What happened to break you like this?”

“My father happened,” he whispers, watching me intently. “He made me see the truth.”

“And what’s the fucking truth?” I all but shriek. “Tell me, Daemon. What the hell is it?”

His hand falls away, and he cuts his gaze to the window. Outside, the moon slips behind the clouds, snuffing out the stream of moonlight on the floor. “I’m not good enough for someone like her. I can’t protect her against danger.”

“Goddammit!” I jump off his lap and begin to pace, unable to keep the frustration inside any longer. “You are enough! Why can’t you fucking see that? She’s so fucking in love with you, and the only reason she’s pushing you away, pushing us all away, is because she’s scared. This is what your father wants. Are you gonna let him win?”

Daemon says nothing, and it angers me enough to collapse to my knees between his spread legs. Placing my hands on his muscular thighs, I stare up at him through stinging, blurry eyes. “Please, Daemon. Don’t let him win. You don’t want me. You don’t want this…” My voice breaks on the last note, and the pesky tears wobbling precariously on my lower lashes fall. I reach for his hand, stroking the veins on top of it with my thumb. “What did they do to you?”

A muscle clenches in his jaw as he stares down at me with empty eyes. But behind the void, something flares to life. I cling to it like a life raft, pushing up higher onto my knees. “Talk to me.”

“They tied my wings and fed me a potion that put out the fire in my soul. While I was unable to practice fire magic or move my wings, they beat me, cut me with knives, whipped me, and threatened to rape her if I wouldn’t let her go.”

Drawing in a horrified gasp, I stare at his face, noting every tic in his jaw, every flex of muscle. They emasculated him and stole his wings. His hellfire. They broke him down mentally over the course of a week. A proud male angel, like Daemon… I can’t even begin to imagine him tied up and whipped by lesser males with smaller wings while they taunted him with threats of fucking his female. Just the damn thought boils my blood. No wonder he shies away from Aurelia now. No wonder he feels incapable of protecting her. It’ll take time for him to find his pride again. To see that no one is more worthy of a fierce angel like her than him. I can’t imagine what he went through, and I know he’s holding back the true horrors of what they did to him.

“Daemon,” I whisper, and his gaze, swimming with regret and shame, slowly skates back from the window. “Don’t let your father win. We will figure it out. Together. We always do.” I implore him with my eyes to see the truth. “No one can protect the little witch better than you.” Waving a hand at the door where the others left a few minutes ago, I add, “Better than all of us. Together.”

His throat jumps on a swallow, and I press on. “I have never met a fiercer angel than you. I don’t know what they did to you down there, but I do know you, Daemon.” Reaching up, I place my palm flat on his chest, over his thudding heart. “You won’t let some pathetic, smaller-winged males break you down to the point where you let another man steal our angel from us. She’s ours. It’s time we get her back.”

“I couldn’t protect her.” His voice is weak and so fucking tortured that I want to claw my own heart out because his haunted gaze makes it hurt like nothing else. Instead, I reach up and cup his cheeks. “You know as well as I do that if they hadn’t tied your wings and fed you some bullshit potion to put out your flame, like some chicken shits afraid of their own shadows, you’d have roasted them with a flick of your fingers. Don’t let them steal your power, too.”

When he draws in a breath and nods softly, I feel like I’ve won the damn lottery. My smile slips free, and I throw myself at him, almost strangling him with my arms wrapped around the back of his neck. Nose buried in his neck, I don’t even attempt to hold the stinging tears back. “I fucking love you, Daemon. You’re my favorite person in the whole fucking world.”

“And you’re so fucking emotional, I don’t know if I should be scared or not.”

Laughter slips free from my lips. I hold him tighter, sniffling pathetically against his warm skin. “Promise me one thing.”

“Anything.” His arms slide around my waist, hugging me close.

“Don’t let your father win again.”

His warm breath shifts the hairs on the top of my head as he presses a soft kiss there. “Next time, I’ll kill him.”

Chapter Sixteen

DMITRIY

Pacing my bedroom, I chew on my thumbnail while debating my options. Flickering torches line the walls, chasing away the chill in the air, but I’m too agitated to feel its bite against my skin. If my father is right, which I suspect he is, we’re in trouble. I can’t just fly over to Daemon’s house and knock on the door. He won’t let me inside, for fucking starters. And if I do manage to make it past the threshold, he’ll scoff at me if I forward my father’s suspicion. “Fuck,” I grumble, pulling at the strands of my hair. “Think, Dmitriy, think.”

Daemon and I have never gotten on. Our rivalry was born the moment we entered this world, a twisted inheritance our fathers gifted us. But somehow, here we are, caring about the same girl.

Mr. Hawthorne, who teaches mind control in humans, once grumbled, “Females bring nothing but trouble,” on his way past my desk. At this moment, I’m inclined to agree.

She’s Daemon’s girl; I know that. Yet I can’t help these unwelcome emotions that have sprung up in me ever since she entered my world. I’ve tried to suppress them. Tried to ignore how my gaze wanders in her direction when she enters a room. At first, when I noticed my cousin’s piqued interest, I planned on using that to my advantage. I even let my father play his weird games, never questioning why he brought groups of humans to the house and let the angel slaughter them like livestock while we watched on in shock, horror, and morbid curiosity.

In my mind’s eye, I can still picture her hunched over a man, hand buried deep in his gut while his pained, choked grunt accompanied the blood that poured from his lips. The way his eyes had popped wide open when she pulled his innards out, as if she was a curious child, playing with oddities.

I knew then that something was wrong.

The door creaks open, and I come to a sudden stop when Aurelia—sorry, Genesis—walks inside. I’m instantly on alert, tracking her like a hawk while she peruses the books stacked on my desk. What if my father is wrong? What if it’s not some girl my uncle murdered? What if it’s actually her?

Hands fisted at my sides, I let my gaze wander over the expanse of her long neck when she moves her hair away to expose the smooth olive skin. She picks up a book, reads over the blurb, then puts it back down. Turning around, her brown eyes land on me, and she smiles.

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