Beauty Awakened (Angels of the Dark #2)(38)
Author: Gena Showalter

Soon, that would change. If he continued along this path, it would soon seep through his pores, leaving a bright glow on whatever he wished, a gold only those in the spirit realm would be able to see. It would be a warning to demons. Touch what’s mine, and suffer.

Had her sister not interrupted…

Well, he wouldn’t think about that now. He flashed to Nicola’s home, landing in the backyard. His mother had enough food and water to last a week. He wouldn’t abandon her that long, but he would give her another few days to herself. How many times had she left him in the palace, taking the servants with her? Countless. At six years old, he’d had to hunt and kill his own food to survive. She deserved this abandonment and more.

And he wouldn’t feel guilty for the way he was treating her. He wouldn’t!

He searched the yard for any sign of thieves—either human or demon—and thankfully found none. As he walked past the bedroom window, a crack in the curtains allowed him a peek inside. He paused.

Nicola and Laila were sitting on the bed. Both females had their hair wound into a thick bun, and green goop covering their faces. They were talking and laughing and painting each other’s toenails. They paused every few minutes to pick up a pillow and smack each other.

The males he’d overhead throughout the years had been right, then. Every time two human females got together, they had a pillow fight.

Such a circumstance had never before intrigued him. Now his attention remained riveted on Nicola. She was as relaxed and happy as he needed her to be. And she was utterly enchanting. The storm had settled in her eyes, leaving a bright morning light. A perfect, cloudless sky.

He’d held her tiny waist in his hands. He’d come close to fisting her hair. To taking everything she was willing to give. Perhaps he would one day. How would she react, though? As eagerly as she had tonight? Or would a little time and thought convince her of the truth—that she deserved someone better?

The rattle of a snake’s tail reverberated behind him, claiming his attention. A sulfur-scented waft of smoke filled his nose.

Dread pricked at Koldo as he spun and drew a sword of fire. Two serp demons had closed in on him, one at the left, one at the right, and sank their fangs into his thighs. In less than a blink, an undiluted surge of venom shot through his system, valiantly attempting to weaken him.

You’ll have to do better than that.

He released his sword, causing the weapon to disappear, and latched on to the creatures.

“Your father sssaysss hello,” one hissed.

“And goodbye,” the other laughed.

Koldo tied the two together and tossed them to the ground. They were long and thick, like snakes, with gnarled antlers growing from their heads, glowing red eyes and fur interspaced throughout their scales. There wasn’t a more hideous creature. Their bodies writhed as they fought to escape each other—and thereby him.

Too late. He reclaimed his sword long enough to slice, slice, removing both of their heads. Then he stood there, dumbfounded.

His father had said hello?

His father had said goodbye?

Serp demons were his father’s allies, yes, but Nox couldn’t have ordered an attack. He was dead. Koldo was sure of it.

They had to have lied. Demons always lied. Perhaps they’d hoped to distract him. Because…why? They had friends nearby?

And sure enough, they did. As he straightened, two other serps flew from the shadows. The two were followed by another. And another. And another. Each converged on him.

The creatures had been following him, he realized. They had known where he would come, had left no tracks and had waited for the perfect moment to act.

Koldo grabbed as many writhing bodies as possible and tossed them into the grass. Once, twice, three times. Yet all the while still more came at him, biting him, shooting more venom inside him.

He formed the sword of fire. Hisses erupted at the first flare of light, and the vile creatures backed away from him. He stepped forward, prepared to give chase…only to stop. His knees collapsed, his legs no longer able to support his weight. He watched, horrified, as the demons slithered toward the house.

They would attack Nicola and her sister, and the girls, weak as they were, would crumble.

Can’t let that happen. Koldo summoned every ounce of his strength and labored to his feet. He’d never used his ability to send his thoughts into the mind of one of his fellow soldiers. He hated the idea of mental contact, a link, someone able to breach the barriers in his mind, as Zacharel often did, and perhaps read his innermost musings. But, to protect Nicola…

Need…help, he projected to a specific warrior.

He expected a thousand questions. Instead, the reply was simple. Where are you?

He rattled off Nicola’s address, even as he struck out, flaming two demons to ash. Others crawled up the bricks, some branching left, some branching right, others going straight up. Koldo flashed one way, then the other, then to the roof, always striking out with his weapon.

“Whoohooo!” a familiar voice suddenly exclaimed. “Daddy’s here, and it’s spanking time.”

Axel landed in the front yard, his wings snapping against his back. He ran forward, drew his sword of fire and hacked, hacked, hacked at the enemy. Demons darted away from him, but he followed, spinning and striking, not allowing a single enemy to escape. He moved up, he moved down, he moved all around…all around… The world was spinning, spinning, spinning so quickly, Koldo thought. Faster and faster.

Panting, weakening still, he flashed to just behind Axel and fell to his knees. He would guard the warrior’s back.

“Dude! I thought you needed help scoring a chick,” Axel said, patting him on the shoulder and nearly drilling him neck-deep into the grass. “I think that was the last of ’em but I’ll do a double check around the perimeter.”

Or just wait here. He ached terribly.

He heard footsteps. Whistling.

Hours later, or perhaps minutes, Axel returned and loomed over his prone form—I must have tumbled the rest of the way to the ground—his electric blues glowing with a strange, otherworldly light. “You stalking Chesticles or something? ’Cause, dude, this is totally her house.”

“No, and don’t call her that.” His throat was swelling, and he could barely force out the words.

“My bad. I didn’t realize you’d staked an official claim.”

She was his charge, but had he staked a claim, even though he had yet to cover her with essentia? Maybe. He despised the idea of another male thinking about her, looking at her, or touching her.