Touched by Death: (Sins of The Fallen book 3)

“Daemon,” I whisper, shrouded in shadows and huddled in the dark corner. Time has ceased to exist in this dark, windowless room. Shaking and shivering, my tears have long since dried. Monstrous shadows dart for the corners, gleaming eyes watching me as the candles threaten to flicker out.

“I’m here.”

My heart gives a painful thump. “You found me.”

“I found you.” Heavy footsteps drag over the concrete floor, past the drain in the middle. The smell of midnight and dew accompanies the fingers that tip my chin up as he stops in front of me. “Did you miss me?”

“So much,” I answer, my voice croaky from lack of use.

The fingers slide down my jaw in a caress that starts out tender but soon turns rough when he grips it tightly and rams the back of my head into the wall. “What have I told you? I don’t want to hear his fucking name.”

Throbbing, agonizing pain explodes inside my skull, and I’m vaguely aware of the cold bite of steel against my cheek. Crouching down, he taps my lips with a knife. “I’m looking for a way to break your fire-bond with the heir. Once it’s severed, we’ll find a way to replace it with ours.”

“Please, let me go,” I whimper.

“They’re coming for you.” He shushes me when more tears fall. “Don’t worry, I have a plan. I won’t let them take you from me. We’ll be together with no barriers soon. I promise.”

His voice fades in and out, a distorted murmur that seems to whisper one second and scream the next. The world is an endless blur.

“Shh…” His mask warps and contorts as rough fingers brush my hair off my tear-streaked cheeks. I try to move away, only to cower when his palm connects with my face in a hard slap. “Don’t be ungrateful.”

Robe swaying around his pants-clad ankles, he rises to his feet and blends with the shadows. In the ensuing silence, the creak of a door whispers sweet nothings to the despair inside me. He’s gone. One by one, the candles flicker out, descending my world into complete blackness. Shrouded by the shadows, I listen to the call of the woods. They whisper my name, like a song on the wind. Haunting and eerie. A rustle of leaves in the midnight mist. Crooked, thin branches that snag in my hair. Pinecones and broken sticks beneath my bare feet.Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

As I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my head against the damp concrete wall, the chain rattles, reminding me of my prison.

“They’re coming for you.”

I let those words carry me away like the soothing notes of a lullaby.

AMENADIEL

As we exit through the door, we’re greeted by a high, ribbed, vaulted ceiling, stained-glass windows, and flying buttresses. Antique, English oak pews line each side of the church. Up ahead, a pulpit with intricate detailing draws the eye. Tall candles light up the space everywhere you look.

No sooner has the door shut behind us than Daemon scents the air and takes a left, weaving through the pews.

“A cathedral,” I say with a chuckle, my voice echoing in the vast space as I look around at the impressive building. When I spot Daemon halfway down the aisle, I do a double take. He’s sniffing the damn air, with his fangs on full display and near-black eyes. “I never took you for such a bloodhound.”

Ignoring me, he takes off toward the tall front doors. They creak open like unused, rusty hinges when he pushes down on the wrought-iron handles. Leaves blow across the floor, carried on a sudden chilly breeze that brings in the scent of midnight and fireflies.

Shrugging off the sensation of eyes following me, I stride down the aisle. A prickle ghosts my neck, and a bead of sweat trails a slow path between my shoulder blades and down my spine. Keeping my steps even, I emerge into the dark night. Daemon is turning in a slow circle between two weathered gravestones covered in ivy. “She’s close.”

I look around the dark graveyard, eyes scanning over the cherubs, shrubs, and tombstones. The silvery moon offers just enough light to see by, lending an ethereal, eerie air to the place. As I walk a few steps forward and turn to look up at the monstrous cathedral, a chill makes its way down my spine. Blinking up at the tall spires and fanged, winged gargoyles, I suppress a shudder.

“Why do you look so spooked, Grandpa?” Daemon taunts, the gravel crunching beneath his boots as he steps onto the narrow path.

With a dismissive scoff, I walk past him. “I’m not spooked.”

His heavy footsteps behind me sound on the gravel and then he’s there, walking beside me and annoying me with his broad and tall build. He’s a male angel in his prime. It’s easy to feel threatened. Even by my own flesh and blood.

“I meant what I said earlier; I won’t hesitate to challenge you for her.”

Of course he won’t. He’d fight to the death now that they’re bonded by fire. He might’ve before. His obsession runs deeper than he realizes.

“And I’d meet your challenge.”

He pulls me to a sudden stop, and I fight the urge to throw my head back with a frustrated growl. The last thing I need is a disagreement with my nephew while inside Aurelia’s mind. “What does that mean? Do you like her?”

Grinding my teeth, I look away toward the trees at the edge of the cemetery, where the tall branches sway in the breeze. But the bite in his tone soon draws my attention back to the fire that burns in his onyx eyes. “Let’s get one thing straight. This isn’t some sick family affair. I won’t share her with you.”

“I think you need to focus on that bloodhound nose of yours instead of picking a fight.”

He glares at me for a moment longer before scoffing and walking ahead. I let my gaze drift over his tense shoulders, noting all the ways he reminds me of my brother. They both have the same stubborn spirit. But where Lucifer is cruel and cold, Daemon is passionate and loyal.

I follow behind him, ignoring the prickle at the back of my neck. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hoots. “How confident are you that you’ll be able to locate her?”

“I’ll find her,” he says, his voice dark and low-pitched enough to stir my own inner demon.

A raven takes flight from a nearby gravestone as Daemon steers off the gravel path to cross the lawn. Wet leaves stick to my shoes, and pinecones sink deep into the soft grass. I decide to point out the obvious. “The shadows are hiding her from us.”

Daemon points to the other side of the lawn. Partly hidden behind the thick branches of a fir tree is a mausoleum with a great dome of white marble in the center. More vines crawl up its weathered wall to obscure it from curious wanderers. The intricate designs carved into the bronze door draw my eyes as we approach. “You think she’s in there?” I ask skeptically.

“I don’t think,” he drawls. “I know.”

The two life-sized angel sculptures on either side of the door seem to stare at us with empty, soulless eyes.

“Wait,” I rush out when Daemon strides ahead, driven by instinct, ready to barge inside the mausoleum without a second thought.

“We don’t know what’s in there. We need to be smart about this.”

With a scathing look in my direction, he shakes his head with disgust and strides ahead. “How did you have the fucking guts to exit Eden if you’re scared of your own shadow?”

“I’m not scared of my own shadow,” I argue, following behind him. “Don’t you feel it?”

He looks at me over his shoulder. “Feel what?”

“The eyes. We’re not alone.”

Slowing to a stop in front of the crypt, Daemon scans the tree line and the cathedral. His wings slowly unfold from his back, as black and threatening as the night. Mist swirls around his ankles when he peels his lips back into a fierce snarl, his senses on high alert. Meeting my gaze, he lets his fangs retreat before turning on his heel and entering the building. “Let’s find her.”

As we step through the large bronze door, the darkness inside swallows us whole. Daemon lights a flame that hovers in the space between us, casting a soft glow over the small, empty space.

Turning in a circle, I take in the paintings of fallen angels on the walls. Great battles between good and evil. The light and dark, engaged in an eternal dance. Two lovers circling each other, both wary and a little afraid. “Do you know what this is?” I ask Daemon.

He looks like he’s two seconds away from tearing someone to pieces. “She’s not here…”

“Look at this.”

He’s not listening. “Where the fuck is she?”

“Look at these paintings, Daemon.”

A frown mars his forehead when he seems to snap out of his own derailing thoughts. He walks up to me and lets his gaze roam over the wall. “What am I looking at?”

“These are her inner battles. Don’t you see?” I point to a sequence of paintings of a true angel at war with the darkness inside of herself. “I bet if we wait long enough, they’ll change before our eyes.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“We’re in Aurelia’s dream—her mind, if you will. Symbolism is everywhere. Why do you think we’re in a cemetery, of all places? Why do you think the town square is the first thing we see when enter through the veil?”

“Is that a trick question?”

With a shake of my head, I turn back to the wall. “This is where you’ll find the myriad of complex emotions that lie buried deeper than her conscious mind can reach.”

“Are you aware of what a boring old man you are?” he asks with enough frustration in his voice to make me chuckle. “She’s still missing, we’re stuck in her mind with no idea of where she is, and you think I give a shit about a bunch of paintings?”

Sliding my hands into my pockets, I lean closer to the wall and narrow my eyes as I study each painting in greater detail. “You said you sense her here, right?”

“Yes,” Daemon all but barks. “She’s fucking here. I know she is. But where the fuck is she?”

I jump back when Daemon throws a fireball at the floor like he can’t control the storm of emotions inside him. It shoots up. Untamed, vicious flames flicker wildly while he breathes like a provoked bull.

“Fuck,” he breathes out with a heavy sigh, dragging both hands down his face. “I’m going fucking insane.”

“It’s the fire-bond,” I point out, turning to face him. “Your need to reunite with her is as strong as your urge to breathe. When did you first bond?”

“I don’t know,” he replies, watching the flames. “I only realized how powerful she is back at the mansion when I trapped her inside a fire prison, and she drew my flames inside of herself.” Shaking his head, his jaw flexes. “I should have known then.” After a short pause, he admits, “I kind of did, but I wasn’t ready to accept it.”

We stand in silence for a short beat, both deep in our own thoughts. “Ronan knew,” Daemon says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “He tried to mention it to me, but I dismissed him.”

“It’s not something that happens to a lot of angels.”

He watches me across the flames, his face aglow as shadows flicker under his eyes. “Fire bonding to more than one angel is unheard of.”

“Yeah…” A smile slants my lips. When he turns back to the wall, I follow his line of sight. “But nothing is ever impossible.”

Daemon stays silent, leaning closer to the wall. As I approach, he reaches up and slides a finger through a long crack in the marble. “You think these are symbols of her subconscious mind? Her thoughts and feelings?”

“Something to that effect,” I reply with a soft shrug as I stop beside him.

His eyes find mine, and he drops his hand. “Everything here is her imagination, right?”

“Sure?”

“When you entered her dream.” He looks back at the wall. “It was essentially a creation of her mind. A stage, if you will.”

“Of course—a backdrop.”

“So, she’s here.”

Leaning with my shoulder against the wall and my hands in my pocket, I cross my ankles. “Never thought I’d say this, but go on.”

“Can you not feel her? She’s here. Trapped in the shadows.” His eyes cast around the small space, chasing the flickering shadows that dart from the bright flame on the floor. “We need to reach her somehow. This is her mind, and she led us right here.” He points frantically at the wall. “Symbolism. You said it yourself. She led us right to the center of her subconscious mind. What was it you said? Thoughts and feelings that are buried too deep for her conscious mind to reach?”

“Interesting.” My lips slowly kick up into a smile as I push off the wall.

“The shadows hide her from us.”

“Let’s go see if we can find some more clues.”

Daemon looks back at the wall as I make my way to the door and exit into the cool night air. A crow that’s seated on the mausoleum roof scrubs its wing with its beak before cawing loudly. All around, the wind rustles the leaves in the tall trees. I’m just about to turn around when my eyes snag on a flickering candle on a metal tray that’s placed on the first step of the cathedral. Despite the wind, it barely moves.

One look behind me confirms that Daemon is still intently studying the paintings. “Come have a look at this.”

DAEMON

“Just a second,” I call out, narrowing my eyes on the painting of Aurelia covered head to toe in blood. A knife that’s dripping blood is slipping from her fingers as the gates to Eden creak open. By her feet lies the corpse of a male angel with white wings. Death cloaks her, leading her forward into the night.

A sudden gust of wind causes the bronze doors to slam shut. I whirl around. The flames on the floor nearly flicker out, threatening to descend the space into complete blackness.

“Amenadiel?” I dart my gaze around the small space before slowly moving forward. Dry leaves crunch beneath my shoes. I cross the small space, drawing the fire back inside me with an outstretched hand. Curling my fingers around the handles, I push the doors open and do a double take when I’m greeted by complete blackness. Gone are the cemetery and the gravestones. The weeping angels and the cathedral with its creepy gargoyles and peaked spirals.

Taking a single step forward into a small room, I’m engulfed by the shadows. A soft whimper in the corner makes me pause. Beside me, four candles on a metal tray flicker to life, casting a soft glow over the room. At first, I’m too surprised by the small flames, that I don’t notice the rattle of a chain on the floor. Frowning, I let my gaze dance across the space until I spot the hunched, naked figure in the corner.

With her wings tied up, the thick rope wrapped around her raven feathers several times to keep them restrained, she looks so small and fragile. My heart stalls behind my ribs. The sharp sound of the chain that encircles her bony ankle hits me in the chest like a bullet wound, and I tear across the small space in four strides. Scooping her up in my arms, I tuck her head beneath my chin and hold her so fucking close, I worry I’ll break her already broken body. From what little I’ve seen so far, there’s a chance I’ll combust in flames. Emotions I never knew existed wrap around my thrashing heart like a coiled serpent. My blood boils while I try not to crush her to death. Through gritted teeth, I snarl, “Who the fuck hurt you?”

Aurelia’s small, trembling hands clutch me to her with a fierce grip, despite her fragile state. “You’re here.”

“Of course I’m fucking here,” I whisper, burying my nose in her hair. “I was always coming for you.”

Applying pressure to my chest, she creates space between us—space I need to eradicate as soon as fucking possible—and peers up at me through teary eyes. “Are you really here?”

“I’m here.” I cup her chin, noting each and every bruise and bite mark on her once-flawless skin. The fury inside me demands revenge. Painful fucking revenge. “You’re not gonna hurt me?”

Frowning, I stare into her eyes. “Hurt you?”

“He hurts me every time you appear in my dreams.”

“Fuck.” Leaning in, with her chin gripped tightly in my hand, I press my forehead to hers. “This isn’t a dream, little witch.” A breath puffs from my lips. “Well… It is, but it’s not. You need to wake up, little angel. You need to step out from the shadows and force Genesis to retreat.”

“You need to leave. Before he comes back. He’ll hurt you, Daemon.”

Gritting my teeth and letting go of her chin to fist her hair, I dive down to whisper against her cracked, trembling lips, “I won’t let him. Don’t worry.”

“He’s dangerous.”

Silencing her with a hard kiss, I curse myself for hurting her all over again. But then, when she climbs onto my lap, I grip her bruised hips and pull her closer. The chain scrapes against the floor, and the darkness inside me likes the thought of her chained and broken. It feeds on the pained whimpers that paint my biting kisses with desire and pleas for more.

Her arms slide around my neck, and she cries out when I reach down between our bodies and ram two fingers inside her cunt. The need to claim and hurt her is an insatiable beast that can’t be brought to heel. Sinking my teeth into her split bottom lip, I pull it away from her teeth while she rolls her hips in time with my hard thrusts.

“Daemon,” she cries out, tearing at the hair at the nape of my neck. I love the way her small body writhes and undulates. I love that I get to grab her by the throat and finger-fuck her until her sore little cunt gushes all over my hand.

“Such a dirty little angel,” I growl, taking in her bound wings, bruised and cut skin, and the pleading hunger in her eyes that begs me to erase the cruelty inflicted upon her with my own. “Take what you fucking need. And when you’ve come all over my fingers like a dirty little whore, you’re gonna wake up from this damn nightmare, fly back to me, and fuck my face until I’m drowning in you.”

“Daemon,” she moans again when I flick my thumb over her swollen clit. I want the damn thing in my mouth. I want her to grind it over my fucking lips until she comes so hard, her scream can be heard inside the gates of Eden.

“When I’m done fucking you, little witch, I’m gonna find whoever thought he could steal you from me, and I’m gonna peel the fucking skin off his bones. No one lays a finger on you and lives to see another day. No one hurts my angel.”

Her pussy clenches tight around my fingers, and a soft whimper—the kind that makes my dick ache—parts her lips.

“That’s it, little angel, fuck your devil’s fingers. Let me feel you squeeze me tight.” Ducking down, I bite her nipple hard enough to make her cry out in sharp pain mixed with depraved pleasure. Her cunt makes a mess, slick arousal dripping down her thighs and soaking through my jeans. She’s fucking divine, riding me like a little whore while the shadows that lurk nearby hiss at me like fanged monsters with glowing eyes. Throwing my free hand out, flames erupt in every corner, as I let my magic pour freely.

Slowly slithering across the walls, like mist on a forest floor, the hellfire devours the retreating darkness.

Throwing her head back, Aurelia grinds her pussy against my hand with deep, slow rolls of her hips.

My tongue eagerly laps up the beads of blood on her peaked nipples before I drag it across the bruised expanse of her chest to her other breast. Palming the soft flesh, I stare up at her from beneath my lashes while letting my fangs press into her skin. They tingle with the anticipation of marking her. I bite down, groaning loudly at the back of my throat when her warm blood fills my mouth. Instead of retreating, the monster inside me grows more restless. It wants me to flip her over onto her stomach, reach for the chain, wrap it around her throat, and fuck her hard from behind. The urge is so strong, I strike her breast again. But this time, it’s deep enough to cause an answering snarl to slip from her throat, clasped between my fingers.

Gripping her hip with my free hand, I guide her over my lap. Faster and harder. Her pulsing pussy squeezes me tight, and I continue to drink from her as she comes with a loud cry. Every muscle in her body tenses. With a final grind of her hips, her wings erupt from her back, breaking the bonds that held her.

As she comes down from her high, I watch my flames engulf the room. Cocooned in a protective bubble, we stare at each other. Her at my eyes, and me at the sheer fucking beauty in front of me.

I stroke her damp hair away from her cheek and trail my thumb over a faded bruise. “I found you, little angel. Now come back to me.”

As I skim my fingers over her lips, she begins to fade. I cling to her for as long as I can, but it’s not long enough. Nothing ever is.

Her soft whisper echoes long after she’s left me to put out the flames of my inferno. Long after my heart has stopped thrashing. And long after the weathered door appears to guide me home.

“I’ll come back to you, Daemon. I promise.”