Magic and Alphas: A Paranormal Romance Collection, page 25
Once inside the cell, Michael snapped his fingers and her cuffs opened and clattered to the stones—In her fantasy, it mattered not that Michael was no sorcerer. The cursed chains broke at his command. With the utmost care, his touch loving, Michael wrapped Honor in a soft blanket to cover her modesty and scooped her into his embrace. Tears in her eyes, Honor buried her face in his chest and inhaled the glorious scent of sandalwood and male perfection. Then—
“Honor?”
Honor’s eyes flew open at the faint croak.
“Dante?”
“Aye. Something… something is wrong. I feel it.” He sounded panicked and Honor’s pulse skittered as Dante confirmed what she already concluded.
“I agree, but what?”
Honor imagined Dante shaking his head back and forth. “I do not know, but Balon…” Dante’s voice hitched. The dispirited sound brought with it a flood of grief. Its icy scales snaked around Honor’s chest and squeezed, making it difficult to breathe.
“Don’t…” Honor’s eyes burned. They would have teemed with moisture had she not been so deprived of drink.
“Honor, I’m sorry this happened to you.”
Dante’s sorrow nearly broke her. More than once Honor insisted none of this was the daemon’s fault. If anything, Dante should be cross with her. This was Honor’s fault. She was the one who obeyed Gabriel’s order to leave his chambers in the Hereafter when her soul demanded she stay. She fled the Hereafter when what she desired more than the next beat of her heart, was to sprint into Michael’s embrace. She was the one who visited Lust’s gardens without giving a thought as to who owned the luxurious estate. She was the one who failed to mask her presence whilst pouting like a child and feeling sorry for herself. And Honor was the one who fell prey to the King of Lust’s sinful compulsion and grew aroused whilst she should have fought harder to get out of the daemon’s mental and physical hold.
Even in death, nothing about her had changed. Honor remained the timid one. Unable to stand up for herself. Allowing her parents and sister to run roughshod all over her. A surge of anger filled Honor’s aching soul. Honor was sick and bloody tired of lacking in courage. Tired of bending to everyone else’s will instead of doing what her own heart desired. She never scraped up the nerve to tell her father she wouldn’t marry the incredibly dull and boring Henry. She never stood her ground and told her mother she had no interest in cooking and sewing and keeping house like a good little wife. She never let anyone know about her inexplicable, soul-deep feeling. A feeling she was destined for something more than being a housewife and mother to a man she didn’t love whilst remaining in their tiny village in the middle of nowhere.
And look where toeing the line and staying silent got her. If Honor weren’t frightened to the point of near paralysis and so exhausted even her hair hurt, she would have laughed. It appeared that in the end, she most certainly got her wish. Honor didn’t marry Henry, didn’t become a housewife or mother, and did in truth escape her isolated village. For her efforts, Honor’s reward was to spend the rest of her existence bound, tortured, and eventually raped by one of the most powerful and evil creatures on the Earthly plane.
Well done, that.
Mayhap Honor should have been more specific when relaying her daydreams and desires to the Fates back when she was still a naïve human girl. Quite the sense of humor, those Fates.
“We have to get out of here,” Dante said, breaking into Honor’s bout of self-flagellation.
“How? I cannot break the chains and neither can you.” Honor didn’t bother testing the restraints. She gave up on that a long time ago. All struggling did was cut her tender flesh, reopen the chaffed wounds on her raw skin, and further squashed the remaining spark of hope in her dull, defeated soul.
“Mayhap we can…” Dante paused. “You’re from the Hereafter, correct?”
“Aye…” Honor wondered where Dante thought to steer this conversation. Cursed chains were cursed chains. It mattered not the faction of immortal—or even human—bound by them. Only a sorcerer, and a powerful one at that, could open them unless the sorcerer created a cursed key. Like the one Lust possessed.
“I’ve heard tales over the years. Tales about immortals from the Hereafter.” Dante hesitated long enough that Honor opened her mouth to urge him on, when he continued. “I know not the verity behind the stories. In truth, mayhap they are just that, stories, but… it couldn’t hurt to try.”
“Tell me,” she said eagerly. Honor knew she shouldn’t allow it, but that teeny, tiny flicker of hope grew and glimmered faintly in the center of her shadowy life force. Under constant torture and humiliating captivity, the beautiful lilac color had been reduced to a dull, transparent replica of its former glory.
“The tale is long. I shall tell you the abridged version. In truth, the story dictates there are instances… when…” Honor waited on edge for Dante to get on with it. “When two immortals from the Hereafter share a special connection. It says they can somehow… I know it sounds mad, but it says they can send messages to each other… through their souls.”
Honor let Dante’s words sink in. Ridiculous as they were, that spark of hope surged. Honor would try anything to leave this awful place, no matter how impossible the idea.
“Tell me how.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know.” Dante’s voice continued to hitch, almost as if he couldn’t breathe properly.
That was the moment Honor realized the Daemon Prince was much worse off than she, physically at least. She knew not his mental condition, but his tone was that of despair, so Honor assumed the daemon to be in poor spirits. Dante not only sounded weak and injured, it seemed as if whilst Honor still clung to that fragment of a spark, the daemon had already given up hope. Even the fantastical story he relayed didn’t appear to lift his spirits.
He’s resigned himself to this fate.
“Mayhap I cannot see you, but I can still sense your aura, Watcher. Worry not for me. The answer is no, I no longer hold onto hope of rescue. Not like you. You are stronger than me. More worthy. Pure of spirit and kindhearted. That is what keeps you going. I am the Son of Lust, borne half evil, and deserve everything that has come to pass. I can only give you my vow. In truth, I shall get you out of here if it’s the last thing I do. For me, there is no hope. Even if I escape today, I shall forever be trapped in this life. My father will never release his hold over me—”
“But Michael is going to banish him. You said that would free you from his power,” Honor insisted, her voice rising despite the pain in her throat. “You cannot give up. I shan’t allow you to sacrifice yourself. Not for me.”
“Please,” Dante begged. The quiet entreaty shattered her heart. A single tear dripped from the corner of her eye and trickled toward her ear. “Allow me to do this for you. As penance for my father’s sins.”
Honor could only let out a choked sob as she asked, “What should I do to try this… soul speaking?”
“All I have is a theory. Remember when your life force and the Protector’s reached out for one another? That time in the chambers of the Guard of the Righteous?”
How can I forget?
Honor still didn’t know what happened that day, but it felt amazing. A barrage of pleasant sensations—security and love and arousal, surrounded her both body and soul. It was the single most intense moment she had shared with another being.
“H-how did you know?”
“It matters not how I know. Can mayhap you attempt it again? Reach for Michael’s life force?”
“I…” Can I? Honor thought not, but what would it hurt to try? “I can attempt it, but I know not how. It just… happened. I cannot guarantee success.”
“You owe me not your vow, Honor Ward. To try is all I can ask of you, and I ask for you, not me.”
“Great fates above,” Honor whispered, her breath catching. “You are truly a male of honor, Dante…” Honor’s face heated. “Apologies, I know not your surname.” How could she spend so much time speaking with the Daemon Prince, talking and telling stories of one another to pass the time, and not ask his full name? She recalled it being mentioned when the Tony introduced the daemon to Michael, but her memory failed to produce it.
“Vittorio. Dante Vittorio. Born in Italy a little over a century ago.” Honor swore she heard a touch of affection in Dante’s voice. Possibly fond memories of his true home?
“Then, allow me to repeat myself. You are a male of honor, Dante Vittorio. Whether or not we succeed, I shall never forget you.”
“Nor I you,” Dante responded. “Now, close your eyes, focus on your life force, and Fates willing, your Archangel will hear you.”
Honor did as instructed and closed her eyes. Focusing was one thing. Pushing her anemic life force outward, its hue dull and shine almost non-existent, and actually manage to influence the tiny trickle of energy was another matter altogether.
Chapter 16
Michael came down hard on Famine, bodily striking the Horseman in the back. The collision unseated Famine from his mount, its pale coat splattered with mud, and the two huge warriors tumbled to the ground whilst exchanging blows, rolling as each scrabbled for the upper hand. His combat with War ended when the Son of Envy slashed War’s steed across the leg and a furious War took chase to the offender.
“You bloody bastard,” Michael hissed as his ham-sized fist crashed into Famine’s jaw with a loud crack. “I shall see you dead for what you have done to my city.”
Red tinged Michael’s vision, rendering the inside of the barn an odd mix of black shadows with crimson highlights. Chunks of the wilting roof broke off under the barrage of rain and wind, pieces dropping to the ground. Everyone and everything inside the barn was soaked through and slick with mud, which made keeping his hold on the Horseman near impossible. Famine knew it, and twisted out of Michael’s grip. With one huge step, Famine threw a leg over his mount. A sharp kick to the horse’s flanks, and Michael was left wallowing in three inches of muck as Famine circled back around, intending to trample him into the ground beneath four deadly hooves.
Michael heard a loud shout and turned in time to see Donovan leap through the air and land on top of Famine. Out of nowhere, Joan attacked from the other side whilst Donovan clung to the Horseman’s back, a beefy arm wrapped tight around Famine’s neck. By the reddish blue hue of Famine’s snarling face, Donovan was choking the Horseman unconscious. The Guard was a skilled bunch and Michael trusted his warrior to incapacitate Famine before the horse could crush him.
Without warning, Michael gasped and stared down at his chest. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, yet the pain of an invisible knife drove through his front to protrude out Michael’s spine its blade slicing directly into the center of his life force. Michael fell to his knees and roared. His agonized cry caused Donovan to take his eyes off Famine for no more than a second, but it was enough for the Horseman to gulp down a lungful of air, crack his elbow in Donovan’s nose, and dislodge Donovan from the back of his mount. Donovan tumbled and the huge warrior nearly landed atop Joan, who rolled just in time to avoid being crushed.
The bastard, Famine, whirled his horse around and took off. Famine forgotten, Donovan and Joan rushed to Michael’s side as he clutched his chest and cried out again. Michael recognized this pain.
Loss.
Devastating loss, the likes of which Michael had experienced very few times in his long existence. Rare as it was, Michael understood what it meant and struggled not to weep. A member of his Guard had perished.
Torn with anguish, Michael pushed past the agony and climbed to his feet, ignoring Joan’s questions. A shadowy figure approached Donovan from behind. Before the enemy could strike, Donovan spun to block a blow from who appeared to be the King of Envy beneath a thick layer of mud. Michael searched through the heavy downpour until he spotted the one that killed his angel. Expression twisted with a mixture of grief and rage, Michael leapt into the air and came down on Death. Next to the Horseman, Death’s shadowy specter hovered over the body of Alwin, the youngest member of Michael’s Guard, intending to collect his soul.
Death laughed and wiped his swollen lip with the back of his hand. “Go ahead. Try to kill me.” The Horseman spat blood on the ground and smirked. “Not even you can destroy me, Protector.”
I can’t, but the Sword of Light can.
Michael lifted the sword as his life force pinged again. Only this time, it wasn’t anguish or despair. This was a small flutter, a tiny, barely-there sensation that tickled at his senses. Undeterred, Michael ignored his life force and slammed the heel of his hand in Death’s Adam’s apple. The Horseman’s eyes bulged as he choked and coughed, but the stubborn bastard remained on his feet.
Death swung and landed a blow to Michael’s solar plexus. The wind rushed out of his lungs and he staggered back a few steps. As he fought to draw breath, Michael’s life force flared bright, the strange prodding at the sphere growing more insistent. Even as the sensation intensified and Michael’s soul reacted to the intrusion, He never took his eyes off Death. When the smallest trace of lilac trickled into his own swirling blue core, Michael staggered.
Honor.
Standing less than five feet away, Death grinned and cocked his head. “Ahhh. Now I see. A little hello from your sweetheart?” Death licked his lips lasciviously and Michael bristled. “Fear not. When you’re gone, I’ll take very good care of the sexy little Watcher.” Death waggled his brows and that was it.
Fury like he’d never known exploded out of Michael. He roared and closed the distance in one leap. Hands out, Michael shoved Death to the ground and straddled the shocked Horseman, landing punch after punch on Death’s once-handsome face. Only when Michael satisfied the burning need for revenge on the evil creature beneath him, satisfied the desire to feel Death’s bones shatter under his fists, would Michael impale the piece of dung with his sword and send the bastard back to the infernum from which he came.
Under Michael’s vicious assault, blood poured from Death’s nose and mouth. Instead of fighting back or deflecting the blows, Death let out a hearty laugh, as if Michael’s punches were a lover’s caress instead of bone-crunching punches.
This isn’t working. I cannot stop Death in this manner. He fucking likes it, the sick bastard.
With Death prone and bleeding beneath him, Michael glanced around the barn. Dirt and blood covered immortals were scattered everywhere, feverishly fighting and shouting, yet Michael noticed that while most of the Kings were down and out, not a single Horseman appeared to be even the slightest bit fatigued.
Son of a djinn.
Death spoke true. The Guard would lose. The Horsemen will kill every single one of them until only Michael remained and then they’d take his life as well.
Inside Michael’s body, the lilac stream of energy flowed faster, entering his life force. The two colors combined, swirling in a stunning dance of souls. That’s when Michael heard it. Heard her. Honor. Begging. Pleading for Michael to come. To save her. The anguish when he felt his soulmate’s agony, witnessed images of her torture sent his mind spiraling into despair. Michael stifled a pained cry and his heart broke for his Watcher. His Honor.
He blinked and the images vanished. A torrent of rage and panic inundated Michael and suddenly Death mattered not.
I need the bloody wraith!
Both Dante and Jack said the wraith had a way to take the Horsemen down. After leaving the King of Wrath’s body, the wraith was supposed to locate a new host. Michael tamped down his irritation at yet another human soul displaced by the parasite. Once inside the new form, the wraith was to return and assist the Guard in battle. Yet not a single unfamiliar face stood out among the others. The wraith had not come back.
Michael’s distraction allowed Death a chance to gain the upper hand. By the time he reached for the Horseman, Death leapt onto his mammoth steed and stared down at Michael, another one of those infuriating smirks tugging at the corner of the Horseman’s smooth and unblemished lips.
Seconds ago, those lips were swollen and bloodied by my fists.
Fates, they heal so much faster than us.
There was much Michael didn’t know about this enemy. If the bastards hadn’t already opened so many seals, Michael would have taken more time to strategize, done more reconnaissance, and gained more knowledge about the enigmatic Horsemen. Instead, they forced his hand and Michael found himself rushing in blindly, putting his Guard in danger.
He should have known. After Death single-handedly dispatched both Michael and Donovan that day in the field, Michael should have used more caution. Fates, Alwin would be alive if Michael hadn’t been such an arrogant fool.
“Tsk, tsk,” Death clucked from atop his horse. Michael snarled and his body itched to pound the swollen bruises and sharp fractures back into the Horseman’s clear skin and chiseled bone structure. “So testy and angry all the time.”
“And I suppose you are the epitome of calm?” Michael spat. The urge to gut the male and string him up by his innards had Michael on the verge of losing his sanity. He was one taunt away from going feral.
“I know my own limits. What I can and cannot accomplish. Who I can and cannot defeat in battle. Something you, Protector, refuse to reflect upon and acknowledge about yourself. That little Watcher, though.” Death appeared to be reflecting upon something. “She calms you.”
The Horseman speaking of Honor sent Michael’s fury through the roof. “Fuck you. Don’t you dare talk about her.” Michael curled his fingers and prepared to launch at Death. He wouldn’t stop until one of them was dead, either Death or Michael. In the Hereafter, Michael gave his vow to the Fates he would protect the Earthly plane, even at the cost of his own life, and that was exactly what Michael would do.
But if you die, who will rescue Honor?
The thought nagged at the back of Michael’s mind, more so with her soul still calling out to his, begging him to come to her. But Michael knew that until he dispatched the pure evil packed inside the barn, he had no chance to safely rescue Honor. The only way to get to her was to defeat the vile dregs of immortality or at the very least, banish the King of Lust.
