The Darkest Passion (Lords of the Underworld #5)(88)
Author: Gena Showalter

“Demon!”

“Stop him!”

He hid his wings—or tried to. Once again they were too mangled to fit into their slots. No matter. He strode toward the repositioned rug just as Hunters reached the doorway. A bullet cut through his back, but he didn’t slow. He simply spun as he walked, withdrawing a gun from his underarm sheath and firing, sending several men ducking for cover.

A reprieve. He threw back the thick, colorful mat.

“Bastard!” Another bullet whizzed behind him and slammed into his side.

He returned fire.

Amid the new gunshots, he heard his friends pounding into the building. Soon there were grunts and screams. Shattering glass. No time to rejoice. Yet another bullet hit him, this one in his thigh, dropping him to his knees.

“Some help,” he gritted into his earpiece. He continued to fire, sending the Hunters back into hiding. He couldn’t hold them off much longer. The gun’s clip was—empty. Shit. He tossed the now-useless piece to the floor.

Punish. More. More!

“Almost there,” Strider panted as the shooting started up again.

Aeron withdrew a second gun just as his friend arrived. Within moments, bodies were falling forward, motionless, then Strider was peeking inside. Blood splattered his face, but his eyes were gleaming brightly and a smile kicked up the corners of his lips.

“Get everyone out,” Aeron told him. “It’s about to blow.”

Strider nodded and was off, shouting warnings to their fellow warriors.

Aeron jerked at the latch on the tunnel door; it held. Though his arm was throbbing, trembling, he squeezed his weapon’s trigger over and over until the metal splintered apart.

“Now!” Strider’s shout echoed through their earpieces.

Aeron didn’t allow himself to wallow in the pain he felt—pain that would soon intensify. He didn’t allow himself to acknowledge the drugging lethargy even then working through his bloodstream. Courtesy of the Hunters’ poison, he was sure. He simply grabbed a grenade from the pouch at his waist and pulled the pin with his teeth.

He tossed open the door—multiple guns fired at him simultaneously, hitting, hitting, peppering his body with holes—and, pushing himself into the air with what strength remained in his legs, he dropped the grenade.

Wrath uttered another of those joyful laughs. Punish!

Boom!

The ensuing blast of air sent him crashing through the roof. When he stilled, he grabbed another grenade, pulled the pin, and dropped it through the void he’d created.

Boom!

Wood and glass shards soared in every direction, cutting him further, knocking him off course. Still he persevered. His wings were now so broken they barely flapped, but he managed to work himself higher. At a safe distance, he stopped. Hovering, though, proved impossible.

As he fell, he swept his gaze around the surrounding area. Plumes of black smoke shielded the building. But through them, he could see crackling gold flames licking their way toward the sky.

None of the humans could have survived this kind of carnage. He, however, was unwilling to leave anything to chance. He withdrew the third grenade and as he closed in on the building, he dropped it.

Boom!

Once again, he was shot upward. The new flames made contact, singeing his skin. He twisted midair, letting his back take the brunt of the damage before twisting again, changing direction and finally falling and hitting the ground where he’d first waited with Strider.

His friend was already there. “I could kiss you,” was the first thing the warrior said. “Even though you look like shit.”

Aeron would have laughed, but he’d inhaled smoke and his throat was raw and swollen. He was barely breathing. His eyes teared from the burn, and he didn’t have the strength to swipe the drops away.

“I’m sure you want a report,” Strider added, helping him to his feet. “William managed to cut the throats of the guys who cut his guts. Paris took a bullet to the stomach, and Reyes got hammered in the kneecap. They aren’t faring so well, so Maddox and Amun are helping them home. Exactly where you need to be. Lucien’s gonna remain behind to escort the dead souls to hell, and Sabin’s gonna stay with him just in case he has to leave his body behind. Or there are survivors. If the tunnel is deep enough, those who ran could have been protected from the blast. And you know how Stefano likes to run.”

Dizziness swept through him, mild at first, then raging, flooding, and if it weren’t for Strider’s arm snaking his waist, he would have fallen. Worse, darkness was descending.

“They used poisoned bullets, definitely,” Strider said, mirroring his earlier thoughts. “Like the one that almost killed you. How’d you survive? What did you do? We should have asked before, but with everything else going on…”

Aeron’s thoughts fragmented, but he knew there was something he needed to tell his friend. Something vital. Something about life and death. Yes. That was it. Life! “Men…shot…die…need…water,” he managed.

“I don’t understand.”

Shit, shit, shit. If he passed out before he explained what was needed, his friends would suffer. They might die before he awakened or Olivia explained. “River. Drink.”

“You’re thirsty?”

“Water. Men. Must. Drink. Water. Life.”

“Aeron, I don’t understand,” Strider said, his frustration clear. “The men who were shot need water? How will water save them?”

“Water life. Only need…little. Olivia. Olivia…know.” And then the darkness dragged him under completely.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

OLIVIA PACED the confines of Aeron’s bedroom. Legion was still sleeping, but she’d been moaning the past hour so Olivia knew she would awaken at any moment. And wouldn’t that just be a treat?

—can’t give up, Temptation—Lucifer—was saying. He’d been jabbering for hours. You must win Aeron.Allowing a prince of darkness to win, as well. Never. That was something she’d fought against her entire life. Victory was all that truly mattered, even at the expense of her own happiness. And that’s exactly what the price was. Her happiness.

He needs you.

“Quiet.”

He’ll be miserable without you.

“And he’ll deserve every bit of that misery.” Holy Deity, who was she becoming? That kind of attitude wouldn’t serve her well in the heavens. Yes, angels were tolerant and patient, as she’d told Aeron, but that didn’t mean they had to like who she’d become.