Demon Loved Demon Loved (Darkest Flames #2) - Katie May Page 0,34

weapon. Instead, he merely stalks forward with a wide grin on his face.

“Welcome!” He extends his arms on either side of himself, that damn smile never leaving.

I slide my gaze, barely perceptibly, over to Raz, and he gives me a subtle nod. Akor grins manically from beside him, and Van bobs his head once in silent agreement.

As the winged fuckers begin to advance, we attack.

Van throws his head back with a roar, hitting the golden angel’s nose. At the same time, Akor unleashes his pain magic on the golden man, who immediately falls to the ground with an anguished scream.

“Owww!” the golden man bellows. “That fucking hurt!”

“That’s why we’re here, shit face,” a different angel interjects from where he’s running forward, prepared to fight.

The angels are here…because they want to get hurt? How does that make any—

Ohhhh. Understanding dawns with the force of a wrecking ball.

Like demon murders, angel flocks can only be severely hurt, injured, or killed if their Center is present.

Which means that the angels are here for theirs.

Raz jumps into the fray, daggers swinging wildly, and Akor laughs like a complete mad man as he swipes the katana sword at the rapidly approaching angels, creating a swooping arc that causes them to stumble back a step.

Raz lifts a hand, and a shadowy figure in a cloak appears out of thin air and swoops towards one of the angels. It looks like a dementor from Harry Potter is sucking out the angel’s soul. Akor follows the illusion up with some nasty, knee-popping pain that makes the angel crumple to the ground, shouting, “Cheaters!”

I immediately fold my large body over Katrina’s, backing us both up until we’re near the vehicle. Before she can protest, I all but throw her inside the passenger seat, slamming the door shut. I can hear her pounding on the window, demanding to be let out so she can help, but I ignore her. It’s my duty to protect her at all costs.

I stand protectively in front of the car, daring anyone to even think about coming closer. Honestly, I’d like to see them try. Maybe it makes me cocky and overconfident. Maybe it makes me a sadistic prick.

But I want to see these angels bleed for what they’ve done to my murder.

That’s the only reason we brought Katrina with us in the first place—because we know these ugly fuckers have nothing on us. It’s not even going to be a good, brutal brawl, like the kind I grew up with in the vengeance rings, where battles could last for days and every player tried to up the stakes. Unlike angels, we don’t have to fight fair, which is evident when Akor jabs his knee into one of the angels’ dicks, his pink head thrown back in deranged laughter as the angel gives a pitiful, high-pitched yelp.

“Okay, enough!” The white-haired angel—and obviously the leader of his flock—claps his hands together once, and a piercing boom resonates through the air, almost as if the sky itself has cracked open. It’s louder than thunder, louder than anything I’ve ever fucking heard before, and pain splinters through my scalp as I fall to my knees. My head feels like a gong that’s been rung, and I have to fight the urge to vomit as I look around at my murder.

In front of me, Raz and Van collapse to the ground as well, their hands over their ears as pain etches itself onto their faces. Only Akor remains standing, expression scrunched together, as he wobbles forward with his sword extended, the pain fueling him, his eyes turning an eerie red.

But is it enough? Is our fury enough? I’ve never fought an angel with such a power. For the second time in my existence, I see my life flash before my eyes. The last time it flashed before my eyes, I lost my tongue. And suddenly, I’m utterly terrified about our ability to win this battle.

I lift my hand from the dirt, about to call on my magic, when the powerful angel speaks.

“Can’t we all behave like adults?” the white-haired man asks calmly, fixing his cufflinks as though he didn’t just down us all in an instant. His musical voice saps the tiny reserve of strength I had left.

My body sags forward, too weak to even manage a sitting position. Only the most powerful of angels are able to wield what demons call the “sonic boom.” In reality, it’s a pitch only demons can hear, sent straight from Heaven itself.

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