Break: Angels and Demons Read online

  “I don’t have to,” she murmured. “It’s probably bulletproof, reinforced with wire and other things common human citizens such as I have yet to hear of.”

  “Accurate as always.” He matched her quiet tone. “Now go into the bathroom and take your shower. I’ll be back in—” He was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing. “Excellent.” He brought the phone to his ear after glancing at the screen. “What did you find?” he asked, moving to the other side of the room to sit on the edge of the bed. She stood stock-still, hoping to overhear the conversation, but the volume was too low to make out any clear words. He caught her eye and made an imperious motion towards the bathroom.

  She hesitated. Had it just been her imagination, or did she hear murmuring that sounded similar to her name?

  He moved the phone away from his mouth. She saw instantly that his fangs had elongated. “If you don’t get in there right now, I’m going to take it as an invitation to join you.”

  She obeyed as quickly as possible, slamming the bathroom door hard on the oh-so-masculine chuckle that followed tauntingly.

  By the time she stepped out of the shower, she was not only bloodstain free, but apparently alone with nothing more than a towel. She had no desire to put back on her smelly, soiled clothing, but she felt helpless enough without being naked.

  As lovely as the water had felt, it had hardly relaxed her or stopped her brain going a hundred miles per hour. There was no way she could escape, given that everyone in the building was on full alert. If only she were an angel or demon herself…then she could burst out of this house barely breaking a sweat, just like her favorite action-flick heroines.

  She looked around the room, hoping to see something had changed since the last time she’d looked around—a sign for a hidden escape route, a phone or even a clock to check what time it was. All she saw was a bowl of steaming soup and a few slices of brown bread on the handsome dresser next to the bed. Next to it was a pile of clothes. Never one to turn her nose up at either, she dipped a piece of bread in the soup and stuffed it in her mouth as she wiggled into the man’s shirt, socks and sweatpants. The top nearly swallowed her and the waistband of the pants had to be rolled up three times before it stayed, but the thick woolen socks were heaven-sent.

  Heaven-sent. She dipped more pieces of bread in the soup and ate them slowly. She’d tried to pray for help before, when the demons had first confronted her and dragged her off, but she’d heard no response. How angry she’d been, that the angels hadn’t even bothered to save her brother. Perhaps she wasn’t going through the pearly white gates given the way she’d lived her life, but to not even help a seven-year-old?

  It was worth a try. Just one more. Feeling foolish, she got to her knees, folded her hands and closed her eyes. “Dear…well, dear whoever’s up there,” she began hesitantly. “I know You probably get a lot of questions, given how the demons escaping from Hell has really thrown the entire planet into chaos, but if You can just get me out of here, I promise that I’ll handle the rest on my own and that I’ll save him. So, if You could do this for my brother…”

  There was a long, awkward period of silence. She cracked open an eyelid, hoping to see something, but all that faced her was an empty room with a half-eaten bowl of soup. “Damn you all!” Layla exploded in anger and was getting to her feet when a sharp explosion of light enveloped the room, sending her back down to her knees. Half-blinded, ears ringing, she sat there motionless. Voices yelled in the distance and heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs. The door burst open a moment later and Marc, along with other men she didn’t recognize, ran in with guns drawn. Layla moved out of the way and then made a soft sound of shock.

  She was…glowing.

  Chapter Five

  “Where the hell did she go?” Marc bellowed. His gun swept around, pointed at her and moved away. Face contorted with rage, he didn’t seem to see her at all. Nor did his men. “Fucking air demons!”

  “But it was white, not blue. Only the angels have white light,” one of his men protested.

  “There’s no way she’s in league with the angels,” Marc snapped back. “I’ll notify Gethin. Call every man we have. We need to find her and bring her back in.”

  She sat there, too scared to move. Several men ran off as the rest ripped through the room, turning over the mattress and canvassing the bathroom. The glow on her skin, one that had hurt her eyes before, seemed the slightest bit…dimmer. She felt her adrenaline spike up. Clearly an angel had answered her prayer and was protecting her from detection. But how long would it last? Once the glow was gone, was that it? Given how fast it seemed to be diminishing, she had to move and fast.

  Carefully getting to her feet, she quietly made her way out the room, hugging the wall as more men ran past her uttering guttural commands into phones and yelling curses mostly directed at her. She made it down the stairs and out the front door without triggering any alarms. Could they hear her? Her breathing quickened and her limping steps sounded overly loud to her ears despite the socks.

  The driveway extended past gates opening to let out cars, and she aimed for it, knowing it was her only chance to get out of the compound. The road that lay outside the gates was deserted. It would be most prudent to cut through the woods parallel to the road. She could hitchhike once she became visible again. Gritting her teeth against the pain in her ankle, she marched off towards the line of trees bordering the road. As she plodded through the trees, finding a nice walking stick on the way, Layla sent a reverent and heartfelt thank you towards the night sky.

  What had started off as a shiver had developed into a full-blown, bone-deep tremor. She couldn’t feel her lips, but given the way her teeth were chattering she was lucky she hadn’t bitten them to the point of bleeding yet.

  Her skin had long stopped glowing, and the only roads she could find were devoid of cars. Humans stayed home at night nowadays.

  She wondered where she was. Surely she should have seen a sign by now indicating what area she was in? The first house she’d buzzed for help after escaping was apparently empty. The second too. She rang, she pounded, she screamed and she begged. No one opened the door. Wary of the demons that were no doubt widening their perimeter with every minute she remained free, she opted to walk parallel to the road. No doubt Gethin knew of her escape. From how far away could he hear her heartbeat? From how far away could he smell her? Fear drove her farther and farther away from the highway, and now she was lost in the woods with nothing but damp sweatpants and sweater, soaked socks, a walking stick and a persistent, freezing drizzle to keep her company.

  But she couldn’t have walked that far, she reasoned. So if she walked at this extreme angle here, she would be able to…

  “Get a grip, Layla,” she told herself firmly. The hair stood up on her arms as if someone was watching her. Nervously, she looked around, but all she could see through the falling water were the dark, gloomy trunks of trees that seemed to hem her in from all sides. There were no strange sounds when she held her breath, just the pitter-patter of rain, a steady rustle of wind through leaves and her own harsh breathing when her lungs strained past the breaking point. Was it her imagination or was her blood racing more than it should be?

  She forced herself to continue walking. One step, lean on stick, limp. One step, lean on stick, limp. One foot in front of another, head down, trudge on. She repeated this mantra, first whenever the mood struck her, then in her head constantly and finally out loud to distract her from her growing paranoia. At this point such suspicions were natural, and the stress clearly caused her to make irrational diagnostics about her surroundings. This scene was straight out of a slasher flick. Indeed, she was hunted by paranormal beings, but that didn’t mean she was currently being stalked.

  Then again, she hadn’t survived as long as she had by ignoring her gut feeling.

  Let’s see. Hair standing on end? Check. Itchy feeling between shoulder blades? Yes. Elevated heartbeat? Not too uncommon by now, but yes. Goose bu
mps and nervous chills? She was getting pretty damn cold by now and her ankle was aching something fierce, but still, they were there, sweeping across her forearms and snaking down her spine.

  A small flicker caught her eye and she spun around, raising her stick in front of her like it was a sword. Nothing. She stayed frozen, not even blinking, trying to take in the dark foliage around her, poised to flee at the slightest movement. Nothing moved.

  Something crackled behind her and she moved too quickly to face the newest threat. Without the support of the makeshift cane, she stumbled on the uneven ground and wasn’t able to catch herself as she fell hard on her rear end. There was nothing there, but she just sat there, gazing at the endless forest around her without actually taking anything in as despair began to eclipse rational thinking.

  She had to face reality. Layla was terrified she’d waited too long. She was stuck in an endless forest with cold rain. Morning was hours away. She had no real weapon, no cash and no phone. She was injured, hopelessly outnumbered and couldn’t find help, let alone the way back to the lesser evil she had to deal with. As much as it made her limbs feel leaden and lungs constrict, the only thing she could do for Nathanial at this point was to trust that Gethin would not be quite like the other demons. Perhaps if she could convince him that she could help him get revenge on the air demons somehow, he would promise to take care of Nathanial.

  “Angel?” She queried softly, but she knew, just knew, that whatever had been with her for that brief second in Gethin’s house was long gone. She needed to find a new way to keep going. But she couldn’t. Not alone. She couldn’t keep going, facing the entire world by herself.

  “You won, Gethin,” she said out loud, nearly gagging on the words. Louder, she screamed out, “You won! I’ll come back. I’ll stay with you. I can’t go anywhere else.” With what felt like a Herculean effort, she dragged herself to her knees, then to her feet. She’d walked in a fairly straight line, she thought. Perhaps if she tried walking back, she would find the road.

  She turned around and felt her heart nearly stop.

  Gethin stood there, black shirt plastered to his chest and hair in wet, curling tendrils, looking broader and stronger than the tree trunks he must have been hiding behind all this time. Her muscles tensed and adrenaline flooded her. Despite the pain in her ankle, she knew she’d be able to make a good run for it. But even as she took steps back, he didn’t move a muscle. His eyes were calm. Both of them knew she wasn’t escaping again.

  “Nathanial’s protected.”

  The words literally brought her to her knees and a sob rose in her throat. “Nathanial?”

  He walked towards her, his pace unhurried. “Nathanial Alderman. Age seven. Birthday is next Wednesday. Nearly nine years ago your father traveled through the tiny town of Agnes, California. Nine months later, Nathanial Alderman was born, with no father listed on the birth certificate. Five years later you made a purchase on your credit card at a gas station near there. You did it again two months later. By then you must have learned he was indeed your brother. You probably use cash ever since then to avoid your transactions being tracked. You’ve worked for some pretty shady people in your past.”

  “I couldn’t risk anyone using him as leverage against me.” The words were hardly more than a soft sigh. “The couple who adopted him created a beautiful home for him. I could never forgive myself if I broke it.”

  “How’d the air demons find out about him?”

  Shame coiled unpleasantly. “I…I check up on him. Around twice a year. Just to make sure he’s being treated well, that he seems healthy and happy. It’s a big enough town that I just play tourist. The air demons must have been tracking me as a potential spy, and… Well, let’s just say that besides the hair, we could have passed as twins. I thought I was so smart with my secret, and walked back into my apartment to find a score of air demons waiting for me.”

  He crouched next to her, a rough hand pushing hair out of her face. “Did your mother tell you about a half-brother?”

  “Once. She was drunk. I went through so many dead ends before I tracked down who I believe is the right child,” she whispered. “But until there’s a blood test, I can’t even know for sure if he’s my brother. How ironic is that? I’m going through hell for someone I’ve never hugged, never spoken to, someone who might not even be related to me. Does he have a bodyguard? Did you warn his parents? Is he frightened?”

  He shook his head. “If he were older I would have spoken to him of the dangers he faces. But for now he has several rotating teams of blood demons constantly watching over him. We can hear the heartbeat of anyone approaching. We’ll take care of him. I might be a demon, Layla, but—” his eyes darkened with chilling intensity, “—I am no child-killer. If you can only trust one thing I say, remember this—not all angels are good, and not all demons are bad either. In this war everyone is right. That’s what creates war, after all. The demons are right to be furious at facing eternity in Hell with no chance of forgiveness. The angels are incensed at our freedom as we’re just a bunch of sadistic, cursed bastards. And the humans are angry too, helpless and angry that they cannot see either side unless we will it. Except for a few like you who our sensory blocks don’t work on at all.” His hands radiated heat as they caressed her cheeks, her neck, her cold arms.

  “How did you get out?” she asked. “I watch the angels and avoid the demons, but no one speaks of how you escaped. You speak of everything but that.”

  “I will never endanger your life by telling you secrets no human should ever know,” he murmured with finality. “Though perhaps you are too deep in this already to be left in the dark. But you shall sicken if we do not get you warm soon. Will you protest if I carry you to my car?”

  “Is it far?” she asked.

  His eyes glinted with a sudden devilish mirth, and those lovely, firm lips turned upwards at the corners. “You would’ve never found that first road you were trying to walk parallel to. But there is an active highway about five minutes away in the direction you were already heading in.”

  She spluttered wordlessly for a moment, before tensions and terror dissolved into hysterical laughter. It had downgraded to hiccups by the time they reached the road. He put her down by a car parked twenty feet away. He pulled a heavy woolen blanket out of the trunk and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Before this gets too wet, strip out of those clothes.”

  She gaped at him for a moment. “No.”

  His eyes seemed to glow crimson for a brief moment. She shivered.

  “I still could strangle you for escaping out of my house like that. You will explain everything to me once we get to a location where my men don’t curse your name yet. Third one in two days. Biggest pain-in-the-ass human I’ve ever had the ill fortune to deal with. Are all human women like this? Get into the backseat and take off those wet clothes. Now. If you get sick I sure as hell won’t play nursemaid. I’m taking you to my loft, and if you happen to destroy it somehow trying to escape again, I will kill you.”

  It was more his lack of desire for her to get sick than the threat of strangulation that persuaded her to strip down and surround herself with the blanket. Gethin got into the front seat and pulled smoothly away from the curb. The flannel was wonderfully warm against her chilled skin. The sound of her chattering teeth filled the interior of the car.

  The initial warmth only lasted so long. The chill began to spread again, and her nose began to run. Miserably, she looked around for tissues, but found none. “Gethin, I need tissues pronto.”

  His irritated glare clashed with hers in the rearview mirror. “I don’t have tissues. Use your shirt.”

  “That’s disgusting,” she muttered, but recognized it as the next best available thing and did so as discreetly as possible. She wrapped the blanket around herself tightly. “Can you turn up the heat?”

  “It’s up all the way.”

  “It’s freezing!” she protested, but regretted her words a moment later when, with an
ill-disguised curse, he jerked the steering wheel to the right to pull over sharply on the gravel. With a lithe twist of his body, Gethin maneuvered his way into the backseat with her.

  “You’re wet too,” she warned breathlessly. His scent was all around now, dark and masculine, and she could see fangs protruding just a bit more than usual. His shirt was more damp than soaked by now, but there was no missing how the thin linen cloth clung to the dense muscles of his chest, the curve of his biceps. His eyes were darker, dark enough that the scarlet color could probably be mistaken for an odd brown should someone observe from far away. And there was no mistaking what burned in his eyes, what made his fangs slowly, elegantly elongate as her heart raced. Fear and desire were hand in hand when it came to Gethin, but she was finally going to let desire take control with no intentions of reining it back in.

  “Are you going to bite me?”

  He cupped her cheek in his palm and lifted it up and to the left, exposing the long, delicate line of her neck. His thumb brushed against her wildly fluttering pulse. “Scared? You should be,” he rasped. “But first things first.” He brought her face towards him, sliding two fingers between her parted lips. She hesitated for the briefest moment and then dragged her tongue across the slightly rough skin on his fingertips before snapping her teeth in a decidedly ungentle bite. His breath whooshed from his lungs with something akin to a snarl as he leaned over her and kissed her. His tongue entwined with hers, drawing out goose bumps of an entirely different nature.

  He was slowly pushing her down until her back was against the car seats even as she arched her upper body towards his in an effort to press every inch of her aching body flush against his. The muscles, the sheer immovable, impenetrable wall of his body weighed on hers in such a wicked, erotic way that she wrapped her arms around his back and grabbed fistfuls of the material to drag him closer.