Page 28 of Fallen Angels

I never asked to be reborn to this fucked up world and Morrigan has been anything but nurturing. Damn her and her fucking bidding. I will protect Eilish simply because I care forher. She’s as lost as I am, and no one understands her the way I do.

That, and I must admit, at least to myself, that the blood in her veins is like a drug—the most addictive aphrodisiac. And yes, I can think of far worse things to do than feel my cock pushing into her slick passage. I will protect her because Ichooseto protect her. Not because the Midnight Fucking Queen demands it of me.

In my opinion, there are too many players on a board that’s ready to implode on itself.

Yet here I am, once again placing myself in direct danger so the others can live to fight another day. Who would have thought I had such a big heart?

I look over my shoulder and curse when I see the multitude of soldiers gaining on me. My zombie soldiers will only be able to protect me for so long. And without my potions and with my decreased strength, this little coup d'état won’t last long.

I move faster, tapping into what little power still remains in me from Eilish’s blood. I need to drink her again—her blood provides a form of unequaled sustenance.

I make my way through the palace and end up in the kitchen—a place for which I’m wholly unprepared as vampires and culinary locations are not close bedfellows.

There must be a servant’s entrance nearby?I ask myself.

I scan the room, in search of a way out, but find something even better—bottles, flasks, and vials of random liquids and powders. I quickly read off the titles of some of them:Potion of Healing, Vetter’s Acid, Sprig of Mandrake, Holy Water, Lich Oil... There are enough chemicals here to create a nice little explosion to aid me in my escape.

Gripping theVetter’s Acid, theHoly Waterand theLich Oil, I grab a nearby wooden dish and dump the contents of each vial into the bowl. Instantly, the chemicals begin to fight one anotherand the result is a purplish mist that would choke the breath from me if I possessed a respiratory system.

I turn the oven on as high as possible—heat will be central to the success of this concoction. Then I tear the curtains from the barred windows and douse them in the bowl before shoving them into the stove. The smell is quite atrocious.

The sound of boots reaches my ears once again. I have little time. And, damn me, but the oven certainly takes its time heating. As time is a luxury I can ill afford, I focus on the white cotton fabric of the curtains. Then I summon my shadows, hoping I still have enough strength left to work my magic.

“Burning hands,” I whisper.

I glance down to see my fingers alight with flames. I simply reach over to the curtain and touch it. It ignites instantly in flames of blue and white. I dampen my magic, watching as the fire consuming my fingers recedes into the white of my flesh.

I crouch down in the corner of the room as the flames of the curtains dance forth, their tendrils of fire searching the wall and the ceiling. I hold my hands up, towards the fire, and move my fingers across the air in front of my face. The flames respond by moving in the same direction. It won’t be long now.

By the time Variant’s forces enter the kitchen, the fire is in full rage, consuming the entire wall and fanning out across the hallway to a row of cabinets. The men are momentarily stunned but then immediately begin coughing and sputtering, owing to the noxious fumes that are both blinding and confusing.

With a smile, I turn for the door that leads away from the kitchen. I take a sharp left and find the servant’s quarters, slipping through the door unseen. I open the door leading away from the servant’s area and stand still, attempting to discern the magical wards that are no doubt in attendance, but I feel nothing.

I open the door and glance through the newly darkening dusk sky and to the armed soldiers standing between me and certain escape. I wrap myself in shadows and using the expert speed of my race, I catch them unaware, ending their lives before they even realize their lives were threatened.

Aside from an accidental stab wound to my upper arm, owing to an overshot on my part, I am quite pleased with myself. I hurry towards the rear of the palace, hoping the rest of my motley crew has been able to make their own escape.

When I turn the corner of the building, being careful to stick to the shadows, I see a reflection of satiny material.

Eilish.

She stands beside the stone of a garden shed, hidden by the shadows of the night. And I see the others just behind her. As I watch, Dragan reaches a protective arm around her middle and pulls her into him, reprimanding her about being too visible. He doesn’t drop his arm but presses her against him.

Anger burns in my stomach and I’m momentarily surprised by my reaction. Ordinarily, I am not a jealous man. Perhaps this jealousy is owing to the fact that I’m willing to share Eilish, but Dragan is not.

Bad deal for him because he’ll have to share her. I’m a man accustomed to getting what he wants, and I am far from finished with Eilish. If he wants her, and she wants him, he will have to come to terms with the fact that she also belongs to me.

I make my move and join them behind the shed. Eilish sees me immediately and her face lights up with a broad smile. She separates herself from Dragan, much to his irritation, and comes right for me. I catch her in my arms and lift her, twirling her around in a circle just to piss Dragan off more than he already is.

“You’re bleeding?” Eilish whispers when she pulls away from me and glances down at the blood staining the naked skin of her collarbone.

“Minor mishap,” I assure her.

She giggles and the sound causes Dragan’s jaw to tighten. Good. Bastard gargoyle.

“Where to now?” Cambion asks as he appears from the dark shadows.

“There’s a portal in the forest that will take us out of the clouds and back to the Fae realm,” Dragan responds.

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