“I’m sorry,” he blurted, tracing a finger over her cheek. “I didn’t mean to make you so sad. Please, don’t cry.”
Frantically shaking her head, she leaned against his chest and hid her face. “No,” she replied. “It’s okay. Just sometimes, thoughts of him catch me off guard, and I have to reset. It was sweet, Mal. I think he would have liked you once he got to know you. I know he would. Look, I’m going to go to the bathroom and splash some water on my face. Take a quick breather. Why don’t you see if you can learn anything about Bennett?” She squeezed his arm and hurried off before he could answer.
Briefly, he thought of going after her, but Bennett placed a companionable hand on his shoulder. “You really care about her a lot, don’t you?”
Not trusting his voice, Malachi simply nodded in response before clearing his throat.
“That’s good. Real good. Girl needs someone to look after her.”
Malachi snorted. “I’m under no delusions that woman can’t look after herself, and I’m not too proud to admit she could probably kick my ass.”
Bursting into deep booming laughter, Bennett clapped him hard on the back. “Alright, Evan. Dammit, I like you. You’re right, she’s more than physically capable. But her heart needs to be watched over. She’s always been so stubborn and determined to prove she’s capable of anything and everything. Her daddy’s death hit her a lot harder than she’s willing to admit. So be good to her, but give her some space for a minute.”
“Wise words,” Malachi murmured. “How’d you get so smart? Is there a Mrs. Bennett who teaches you these things? I may need some lessons.”
Chuckling, Bennett smirked. “Nah. I mean, there was. Twice. Both of ‘em divorced me. Takes a different kind of woman to be a cop’s partner. Long hours, unpredictable nights, cases you can’t leave at the office sometimes. It’s hard. And with Chuck, you have the added bonus of that dog of hers. Malachi. Man, that is a damn fine officer in his own right.”
Chest puffing with pride, Malachi was about to thank the man for the compliment when he felt a burst of panic wash over him. Dizziness assaulted his body, and a blast of angelic grace slammed him against the table.Kelly!He screamed in his head.
Out loud, Malachi claimed he was running to the restroom but barreled out the back door instead, following the smell of grace and fear like a shark scenting blood in water. An unearthly roar ripped from his throat as his eyes quickly absorbed the scene.
Chuck lay on the ground, clutching her arm, blood and angelic grace leaking in equal proportions. She was glaring and shouting threats at the man who stood over her, holding a forsaken blade in one hand, a gun in the other. Both weapons were trained on her steadily. Madness swirled in his eyes as he glared at her with undisguised fervor for the perceived right in what he was about to do.
At Malachi’s roar, the man looming over Chuck jerked his head up and stared at him in shock. “Stay out of this, man, you don’t know what she is! She needs to die!”
Snarling, as his skin began to ripple and roil uncontrollably with his irritation, Malachi clenched his jaws together tightly. His teeth elongated into fangs, and his eyes glowed with Hellfire. “What she is…” he hissed, his voice deepening until the timbre resembled an erupting volcano, “ismine.She belongs to me. What you should be more worried about is whatIam.” An evil chuckle bounced off the brick walls enclosing the small space. It rattled across the surface of the old, crumbling mortar, sending sandy particles dancing with fear into the night. The sound was followed by loud cracking as Malachi’s bones snapped and reformed. A bit dramatic? Abso-fucking-lutely. But he wanted to scare the soul right out of the man’s body.
His skin darkened to a deep swirling dusky gray, similar to that of the sky before an impending storm. Ebony horns that glistened in the streetlight spiraled from his head as they tapered to razor-sharp points reaching for the faint moonlight above them. A roiling fog of sickly green mist swept around his body as it grew upwards, his height expanding to a little over nine feet. Massive feathery wings, black as a raven, sprouted from his back and spread behind him, blocking the feeble light and throwing their tableau into further shadows.
Reaching the final stage of his true demon form, Malachi roared again. This time, fire shot from his hands, scorching the man’s fingers, forcing him to drop the gun. “You will release that blade and step back. I’m giving you this one warning only, then I’ll end you. Itwillbe messy, and Iwillenjoy it.” An echoing growl emanated from deep in his throat, rattling the nearby dumpsters, punctuating his fury with their metallic shivers. He didn’t dare look at Chuck; he couldn’t bear to see the disgust on her face at his monstrous form.
An unhinged laugh from the man echoed throughout the alley. “You’re a demon? And you’reprotecting her?”he demanded incredulously. “We’reworking toward the same goal!” he shouted, tightly gripping his hair with his free hand. “This doesn’t make sense! All her kind must die! Why would you stop me?”
Shrugging his massive shoulders, Malachi grinned obnoxiously, showing all his fangs. “Dibs,” he replied casually. Leaning down, he studied the man closely. He was an average nobody—sandy hair, pale washed-out skin, like he’d been inside too long, and faded blue eyes the color of worn-out denim. Ultimately, he was utterly forgettable. Someone you passed on the street and promptly forgot. Slumped shoulders, frumpy clothes the color of mud, and ratty shoes with one lace untied. Hardly the portrait of a crazed zealot, hellbent on destroying the host of Heaven.
But there was no mistaking the burning determination in his gaze. He truly believed Chuck to be an enemy and that she deserved to die. Too bad for him, his belief was wrong.
Snorting, Malachi whipped his claws out fast as a snake and wrapped them around the man’s ankles. Snatching him into the air, he dangled the attacker upside down and peered into his eyes again. “So, this is the part where you drop that blade.” A wordless denial from the inverted man, made Malachi growl and shake him like a rag doll. The metallic clang as the sword hit the asphalt below drew a satisfied hum from his throat. “There we go, now you’re being more reasonable.” He bobbed his chin encouragingly.
“Put me down! Let me go!” the man screamed, terror causing his voice to crack and shake now.
“No, I think I’ll turn you into a chew toy for my friend Reena. She’s a little bit psycho and needs to taste human flesh before she becomes a fully-fledged Hellhound.” Malachi raised his arm up and down a few times, bouncing the man like a yo-yo, chuckling as the captive screamed.The smell of his fear was delicious. “Hey, do you think you’re gonna piss yourself? It makes this a lot more fun,” he confided wistfully.
A soft hand on his leg drew his attention to Chuck, standing beside him. He blinked, suddenly highly aware that she was seeing the real him. Waiting for her to shudder and withdraw, or maybe scream and run, he held his breath.
“Put him down, Mal, let me arrest him. We need to know if he killed my father,” came her soft admonishment.
Startled, he exhaled on a heavy gust before he slowly lowered the man to the ground and placed one massive taloned foot on top of him, pinning him in place. “Yeah, if that’s what you want,” he mumbled. “I was kidding about the Hellhound thing. Reena’s too small to be a real one.” He shrugged apologetically, waiting for her next reaction.
“This is your true demon form, isn’t it?” came her quiet, but not timid question. Her voice was steady and low.
Nodding reluctantly, he stared at his toes, watching her attacker squirm, trying to get away.
“Bend down so I can see you better,” she instructed, her tone brooking no argument.
Perplexed now, he slowly crouched, sitting back on his heels so his eyes were level with hers. He held perfectly still as she studied his body. Reaching up tentatively, she traced her fingers over one of his horns, marveling at the complexity of the swirling spire. She ran her fingers through his hair, still black like his human form, but trailing down almost to his waist. Squatting as he was, it nearly brushed the concrete beneath him. A smile crept over her lips as she wrapped his hair around her wrist, then let it fall like a curtain around him. He finally smirked at that. He knew she was obsessed with his hair, but she hadn’t finished her study of him yet.
Finished with her perusal of his front, she began a slow, torturous circuit around him. Standing behind him now, she made an inquisitive hum, which he understood was her asking permission to touch his wings. “Yes,” came his quiet reply. Soft fingers traced the scarred patterns on his back before they finally tangled in the feathers and stroked them. He shuddered and moaned at the touch, overcome by how sensitive they were.
