Wounded Angel (The Earth Angels) - By Stacy Gail Page 0,78
becoming solid once more as he landed lightly, holding Ella against him so that her feet barely touched the ground.
“For a cripple, you’re not half-bad as the angel of vengeance’s descendant. Bravo.” Dantalion’s voice hissed from the smarmy curve of Charles Rainier’s mouth. He turned and licked Ella’s cheek; she gagged and squirmed in revulsion. “Even without wings, you represent that thuggish progenitor of yours surprisingly well. Worse yet, your irritating habit of uncovering things that are hidden has been my biggest concern since I embarked on my journey to create a new hell. Lucky for me you made the monumental mistake of bringing your pet monkey with you tonight. Thanks for that. I would have lost my place in this realm otherwise.”
Nate couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. His safety, his life, stopping Dantalion—none of it mattered if he lost Ella. “Don’t. Hurt. Her.”
“Ah, but her hurt and her pain and her unbelievable psychic terror gives me just enough strength to stay in this world long enough to make you beg for death.” The demon’s borrowed face split into a smile of unmitigated glee. “Don’t you get that this is how I work?”
“He might not, but I think I do.”
The sound of Ella’s voice froze them both into place.
* * *
Ella wasn’t an idiot, and she’d been here before; she knew what the last few moments of life looked like. She’d suspected she was done for from the moment Dantalion sped toward her in that impossibly fast, not-human way of moving. Then, when he went airborne, the inevitability of her death was as inescapable as Dantalion. But she wasn’t about to allow this wretched thing target Nate without putting up some kind of fight. If it took what little life she had left, then so be it. To protect the one person she loved and trusted without reservation, it was well worth the sacrifice.
The odious thing wearing the face of Charles Rainier went unnaturally still. Apparently even demons could look like a deer in the headlights. But why? What was he afraid of? Certainly not her.
“Don’t.” The warning rippled with a wealth of promised agony, and inside the primitive part of her curled into a shivering ball. But beneath the demon’s dire tone was a shrieking sort of alarm that her skittering mind latched onto with all its might. “I don’t want to kill you, my little human power source. Don’t make me do it.”
Before she could stop it, a frenzied flash of Stockholm Syndrome reared its ugly head. He’ll be nice and spare your life if you just don’t cause any trouble...
Oh, how she knew that voice. That was the voice of the scared victim looking to her tormentor, of all people, for hope and mercy. It was the voice of the powerless. The helpless. God, she hated that voice. If she never wanted to be at the mercy of another, she wouldn’t wait for mercy to be given. She would act, and she would have no regrets of the outcome.
“When we send you back to hell, do me a favor and thank Charles Rainier for me.” Twisting around in the demon’s grip, she looked into the face of her nightmare and made herself smile. “He taught me an important lesson, Dantalion. I have to fight for what’s important, because it sure as hell won’t be given to me by the likes of him, or you.”
“And what’s important to you now, you hairless monkey? Your life? Your next breath?” The hand around her neck squeezed for just a moment, and she felt something grind together in her throat. “Your next frail heartbeat?”
“Him.” She could only mouth the word before she cut Dantalion out of her vision and focused on Nate, and suddenly all was quiet inside. Dantalion’s grip loosened perceptibly, and crystal-clear understanding whispered like a miracle through her. “My fear and pain is the only thing holding you in this existence after that ass-whooping he gave you, am I right? Too bad for you, I’m done feeding you negative energy.”
His roar sounded like fingernails on a blackboard. “You can’t do anything to stop it, you arrogant little ant. I’m a demon and you’re—”
“Capable of love.” She let go of all the self-protective defenses, the insecurities that held her back, and simply allowed herself to feel. Nate, and everything he’d brought into her solitary world, was the greatest gift she’d ever been given. By simply existing, he was a never-ending source of happiness, of trust and unquestioning acceptance of who