“Do you trust me?”
Hazel silently backs away until she is out of sight. I’m sure she’ll hiss about our lovey-dovey moment ruining her plans to gut some Deviants the first chance she gets.
The last time Angel asked me this, I didn’t have to think before saying no, but now, the circumstances are different. I am different, and so is our bond. He has given me things I didn’t think were in my cards. A roof over my head, friends who have my back and comfort I didn’t know I was worth.
So, there’s only one correct answer. “I think I do.”
Shrugging lamely, I force my eyes to track the patterns on the tile below me, not wanting to witness his disappointment, but all I get is silence. When I hesitantly peak at Anxo, he has an excited smile he can barely suppress. Those dimples on display once again prove that I need to stop expecting the worst from people, from Anxo.
Pushing the door open, Angel has more spring in his steps than one should have before facing Deviants. He steps into the cold night with Hazel and me following close by.
Conjuring his bow out of thin the air Angel stays a step ahead of me and in the line of target. I can’t get over how magical it is summoning a weapon and not having to carry it on you at all times. Since Seiji is not officially a Horseman, he still has to disguise his whips as a jeweled belt looped over his waist, but anything is better than not having a signature weapon at all.
The Death ring is loyal to Papa, considering he is the Grim Reaper, so I can’t summon the scythe and raise hell like I prefer.
Hazel and Grace also carry weapons on them. Grace because her Divine is no help in such situations, and Hazel because that deranged woman loves getting her hands dirty even when she can melt someone’s brain with one tune.My kind of woman.
I like getting in the face of my enemies; watching the light leave their eyes as I slowly strip them of their souls. It’s strangely satisfying. Since I don’t have a weapon, I use my hands to carve a path through the hoard of rabid Deviants, burning their souls to ashes and hoping I’ll forget their screeching wails by the end of the night.
Deviants can’t hold or conjure a weapon, but that doesn’t make them harmless. Every touch from a cursed soul makes your insides shudder with dark magic. When a melting hand lands on my shoulder, I thank the countless nights of torture that made my body used to this uncomfortable burn. Grabbing the deviant by his throat, I squeeze until his head rolls off his decaying body.
With my hands now covered in melting flesh and goo, I regret not asking Hazel for a dagger.
A deviant dropped to my feet with a deep gash on his neck, distracting me from fighting my share to gape at my mate.
I was worried their numbers would overpower us, but Anxo is dropping Deviants like flies. He is fast and elegant, his movements are so effortless one would think he’s taking a lazy stroll in a park.
A wicked laugh from behind me breaks my trance, reminding me I’m not here to cheer Angel but rather to put some of my anger and frustrations to use.
“Ah, there’s my favorite prisoner!” The bigger tool steps forward with his mini tools, i.e., Deviants guarding him, waiting for their master to saygo fetch.
I should’ve known it was him. This particular warlock loves a good villain monologue, andof course, he wants one in the middle of me tearing his brainless soldiers apart.
The world might believe Visha is the most powerful witch to exist and her coven is stronger than most, but I know how rotten her ranks are on the inside. Other than a few dozen dark magic wielders, Visha heavily relies on Deviants and her elite warriors to walk through hell to keep her hands clean and image cleaner.
On occasion, Visha invited warlocks from other covens to come to use her prisoners as stress relievers, andDavidhere was a frequent visitor.
“Not you again,” throwing my head back, I groan loudly.
“Thought you could get away that easily, huh? Afraid I will drag you back?” He gloats about his strength and power, but I can’t help but snort at the assumption.
I legit ugly snort, and the sound resonates in the dead of night. On the other side of the empty area, Anxo chuckles in between knocking warlocks with his bow.
This guy is five feet tall with a six-month pregnant-looking belly sticking out, andI amsupposed to be afraid ofhim. Now that I think about it, I think his anger may stem from when I stabbed his cousindown therethat one time.Good old days.
“Honestly, dickvid? You should-”
“David!”Dickvidexclaims furiously. This guy should do some yoga. I’ve heard it’s good for anger management.
“Yeah-yeah, same thing… Hey, how’s the wife? Left you for that ugly face yet?” I don’t understand how they all have womenstaying with them. I don’t see one good thing, not externally anddefinitelynot internally.
“You will never make it out of this alive! The queen has plans for you when she gets you back becauseshe will, your kind will…” Dickvid is red in the face—sneering at me as he continues his oh-so- evil monologue. And it’s not just me; even his warriors behind him look bored.
“Sorry, dickvid, I don’t speak stupid. Didn’t go to school, you know, with your peoplekidnapping meand whatnot?”
Andthatsnapped his restraint. Roaring like a pig suffering from constipation, he charges at me along with his minions. Flicking his wrists, David rains sharp thorns on me from the bushes behind him. Bending at the last second, I avoid most except the one that tears the sleeve of my pretty dress. Okay, now I’mmad.
Surrounded by Deviants and warlocks after months of safety is not as adventurous as I thought it would be. Being around them brings all kinds of tidbits from my past that I struggle to hide every day.
