Page 10 of Consorting With The Enemy

Marchand threw up his hands in frustration. Gabriel didn’t seem to be swayed by his older brother’s arguments, though. “How could Ari, the Dark Lord’s youngest son, be strong enough to destroy him? It shouldn’t be possible, but it happened.” He pointed a finger at Nic to shush him and added, “And we have more than Ari’s word for it. Julian and Valen were able to confirm the information with their sources.”

“Ourdark, nefarioussources,” Julian said irritably.

“Gabriel’s correct,” I added. “There should be no way Ari could pull something like that off. With every child the Dark Lord produces, the bloodline thins, making them weaker. Ari is the youngest. There are six demons in front of him.” I searched my mind, traveling through centuries of memories, and tried to come up with an explanation, but there wasn’t one to be had.

“There’s more,” Gabriel said, his voice growing more excited. “Exploding his way out of the demon trap? That shouldn’t be possible, either. That trap was formed by Gaudet magic and should have been unbreakable. Add the fact that there were three of us binding the trap…well, frankly, it would be impossible.”

Nic fell back onto the couch. “Only a Gaudet can break a Gaudet spell, and even that isn’t easily achieved.” He looked up at Gabriel and shook his head. “What are we missing?”

Marchand grinned and said, “A relative, it sounds like. He has to have Gaudet blood.”

Nic scoffed. “Absolutely not. We’d know about another Gaudet. Our family is very tight—our heritage is something we know and are proud of. There’s absolutely no way another Gaudet could exist without us knowing it.” He snarled his nose. “You are also implying that a Gaudet lady bedded down with the darkest demon of all. That simply wouldn’t have happened.”

Thibeau, who usually remained quiet, said, “I bedded down with you.” With the exception of Nic, whose face was blazing red, everyone burst out laughing at Thibeau’s joke.

Trying to defuse Nic’s growing frustration, I interrupted and asked, “How far back does your information go on your family history, Nic?” I wasn’t sure why or if it was important that Ari might have Gaudet blood in him, but I also wasn’t sure that it wasn’t themostimportant thing. There had to be some logical excuse for Ari’s capabilities. Gaudet blood mixed with demon blood could very well be the answer. The very idea of it, though, was inconceivable.

“Centuries, of course”.

“Well, the Dark Lord was created before the earth was,” I argued. “Which makes Ari fucking old, Nic—possibly too old for Gaudet manuscripts.”

“Again, I tell you it isn’t possible. Our bloodline is the purest among the witches,” Nic continued to argue. “It’s simply unthinkable to believe there would be a demon in our heritage.”

I could sit and listen to Nic beat on his chest or try to find Ari. Hands down—hunting Ari won. If my lover had indeed destroyed the Dark Lord, his brothers, especially Tantrumonious, wouldn’t waste any time finding their errant brother and imposing demonic justice…especially because the bastards had to be frightened of Ari’s abilities. Julian and Valen were absolutely correct—the underworld was certainly in disarray. Each brother trying to gain control. Each brother trying to destroy Ari.

Tantrumonious had sent over twenty demons after Ari this morning. As soon as he learned of the failure, he’d send twice that many. Fuck, if hadn’t assumed the throne yet, he could even come himself. I couldn’t leave him to fight the battle alone…to die alone.

“I’m going after Ariel,” I told the group. “If you all find a way to destroy an army of demons, come to us. If not, stay away and protect yourselves.” My eyes fell to my nephew. “Better yet, just stay away. Keep one another safe.”

Chapter Five

Ariel

Two weeks had passed since I’d slipped from Az’s warm grasp. The days and nights had passed hiding from demons and then fighting them when they found me. I’d expected larger armies from my eldest brother, so I assumed he must be toying with me—weakening me with each attack. It wouldn’t be long now. My left wing was ripped and healing much slower than usual. Of course, it had been nearly ripped from my body, so there was that.

I would have probably given up long before now if it wasn’t for the Az curse—I wanted him and couldn’t stop. Sure, I wasn’t his first, second, or third choice, but I tried to tell myself I was surely ranked somewhere in the top thousand. To be honest, I was pretty damn good in bed. He might hate my demonic status but had to love my bedroom antics.

From my perch on theTorre Eurosky, the tallest building in Rome, I looked down at the landscape surrounding me. I’d often felt a call to New Orleans, for reasons I couldn’t begin to explain or understand, but I guessed it would hold a special spot in my heart, because it would be the last place we’d been together.

I smiled as I thought of Marchand, Az’s lavender fluff of a nephew. The kid had plenty of spunk, but a softness that the underworld would have ripped to shreds within hours. Other than my few times with Azazel, saving Marchand was the only other act in my existence that I could be proud of. I’d lived many centuries and never met anyone quite like him—he seemed to find the good in everyone, even me.

I gazed down at what they called the eternal city of Rome. It was beautiful, but nothing like it had been when Az and I had first met centuries ago. It was busier. Louder. Rome made me feel closer to him, so that’s where I’d spent most of my days when I wasn’t trapped in the underworld or doing my father’s bidding.

Memories washed through me, as they always did when I pined for what we’d had but could never have again. My father had sent me to Rome to cause mayhem. The Angel Master had sent Azazel to offer all support to the new ruler of Rome, Ancus Marcius. Since the man’s first official act as ruler was to reinforce that all public ceremonies of religion were upheld and ordered Pontifex Maximus to copy all texts to ensure nothing was done improperly, my father felt the need to at least stir the pot, so to say.

So, stirring the sin pot was what I’d been doing when I’d first met the angel Azazel, not yet fallen and the most gorgeous heavenly creature I’d ever encountered. It had been late into the night, nothing but a few torches lighting the way, and I’d just accidentally met two men who worked closely with Pontifex Maximus. My goal had been to plant the thought into their minds that the man needed to be murdered by them when Az had caused an instant change in my priorities.

I’d noticed him in the shadows, his gray eyes watching my every move. In the beginning, or at least at that moment, I hadn’t identified him as a heavenly creature…just a supernatural creature that I had to have. When he grown bored watching me, he’d turned away and walked down an alley I knew to be dark, abandoned, and with the exit being the same as the entrance. In other words, he wouldn’t be able to escape me. With the two men and my father’s demands forgotten, I followed him. Little did I know that after that night, I would always follow him.

Like I’d known it would be, the alley was dark and deserted. Since darkness didn’t weaken my eyesight, I watched as he slowly made his way toward the stone walls that would trap him. Moving just as slow, mostly so I could enjoy the view, I’d trailed behind him, not at all afraid or worried. Why would I be? I was one of the deadliest creatures to walk the earth.

I’d been so busy gloating over my supernatural strengths and imagining how hard I was going to fuck him, I didn’t even notice that I’d reached the end of the alley…alone. Confused, I looked around, my eyes searching for any corners where he might have found a place to hide.

Gone. Puff. Just like that. There was nothing left of him except his sensual smell. Disappointment flooded my system seconds before I felt myself being lifted off the ground. Strong arms wrapped around my waist, holding me pinned against his hard muscles, as huge, magnificently beautiful and impressive white wings launched us through the air. Within seconds, we were high above the inhabited areas of Rome and headed toward a magically guarded place known as the Pits—where supernatural battles were to be fought.

An angel. A motherfucking angel. Just my luck that I’d stumble upon the one creature that equaled my powers…or exceeded them. I should have caught his scent—there should have been a warning. Instead of a warning, I’d gotten a hard-on for him.

He landed in the middle of the pit, but instead of flinging me across the barren land, he simply sat me on the ground and gave me a shove away from him. Since away from him was the opposite of what I wanted, my wings, inky black and just as deadly, unfurled when I turned to face him.

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