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

Fumbling in the dark for hours and grasping at the icy, damp concrete walls, had left me exhausted. No light reaches this place, and my eyes never get used to the dark, no matter how many hours pass.

I sit pressed against the damp wall with my legs drawn up to my chest, trembling like a leaf until I finally succumb to exhaustion. I wake sometime later when a cold touch to my cheek rouses me from my slumber.

Scrambling back like a startled mouse, I stare at the hooded figure in front of me, his face hidden behind a black mask. A single candle flickers in the corner, the light barely enough to see by. He cocks his head and seems to study me. As I frantically pull my skirt back down to hide my panties, panic seizes me when I realize my wings are tied together and a chain around my ankle secures me to an iron hook on the floor.

“What the fuck?” I blurt, the chain rattling as I fly forward to tug desperately at the clasp around my foot. “What the hell?”

When I attempt to conjure a flame to keep him away, nothing happens. My magic is gone.

I look back at my stalker, and he takes a single step closer as if to test my reaction. Not a second later, I bare my teeth with a feral hiss, and he pauses again. Intrigue oozes off of him like heat waves in summer. I wish he would say something. Utter a word. I need to hear his voice.

Another hiss slips from my lips in warning when he takes yet another step closer. My fingertips itch with the need to conjure a flame, but nothing happens, no matter how much I try. And with my wings tied tightly behind my back, I’m truly at his mercy.

Crouching down in front of me, he studies me for a long moment before tentatively reaching a gloved hand out and touching my ankle. Every muscle in my body seizes up, and a loud, animalistic, vicious growl climbs up my throat.

Fingers pausing, his dark eyes peer back at me from behind the mask. My lips twitch as I continue snarling with my teeth bared, like a feral animal he’s caught. When he slides that gloved hand higher, I kick out at him.

He’s faster, ripping his glove off and throwing a flame at me. He keeps it suspended midair, dangerously close to my exposed neck. The searing heat licks at my skin while he holds his hand out and smooths his other one over my ankle once more. Higher and higher, his gloved fingers travel, until the tips graze my upper thigh.

The snarl in my throat dies when he squeezes my leg. “Don’t fucking touch me,” I whisper viciously, cutting him down with my glare despite the fear that’s slowly drowning me.

Shutting my eyes against the heat at my neck—the necklace of flames he threatens to brand me with if I don’t behave—I wait for his gloved hand to slide higher. To take what he desires. But it never comes.

When I open my eyes, he’s still staring at me from behind that mask, seemingly riveted by my face. Just as fast, the flame dies out, and he darts away from me, hovering near the lone candle in the corner. His long robes graze the floor with every small shift, dragging across dirt and debris.

“Who are you?” I ask, though I know I won’t get an answer.

From a pocket in the robe, he pulls out a knife, and I let out a whimper as he takes slow steps closer. Rocks crunch beneath his leather boots, and the sound sends my heart ricocheting in my chest. Icy dread winds tightly around my throat. I try not to stare at the knife but when the sharp blade catches the glow of the candle, my eyes fall to it.

I scurry back when he’s halfway across the small space, panic skittering across every bone in my body. There’s no escape. It’s just a square room with a door that I can’t reach. There’s not even a fucking window. Nothing.

“Please, no,” I cry out, kicking out again and forcing him back a step before crawling away. The chain pulls taut, preventing my escape. Sobs climb up my throat, clawing at the tight canal, when the heavy thud of his footsteps sounds behind me.

Close. Too fucking close.

Crouching down behind me, his gloved hand encircles my throat from behind, and he dives down to breathe me in. I try not to cry. I try not to break. But when the cold mask brushes up against my neck, a sob wracks through my chest.

A rumble I recognize as a satisfied masculine sound dances across my skin, carrying top notes of curiosity and base notes of anticipation. Releasing my hair, he grips a small section and saws it off, the sharp blade cutting through the strands with ease.

As he rises to his feet, I hold my breath, not daring to slump with relief until his footsteps fade.

Please, leave.

At the sound of a familiar creak, I slowly look over my shoulder. No sooner have I scanned the room than a surprised gasp escapes my lips.

He’s gone.

DARIANA

I sneer at a passing angel that’s dressed in nothing but underwear as I enter the crowded living room. Like a fucking hawk, I seek out Daemon, who sits on the couch with equally scantily dressed girls on each thigh.

At the sight of my furious face, a groan has barely had time to slip from his lips by the time I’m standing in front of him with my hands on my hips and my most deadly glare directed at the girls. Much to his disappointment, or maybe relief, they rise to their feet and walk away. Days have passed since we last saw the little witch, and Daemon still hasn’t been able to fuck another female. It’s like she has the boys tied up by their fucking balls, and it’s starting to piss them the fuck off. The scathing look I pierce Daemon with doesn’t help either.

“For fuck’s sake. Out with it,” he mutters, slouched on the armchair with his shirt and jeans unbuttoned.

It’s the same story for Alaric and Ronan, who are spread out on the other couch, looking bored out of their minds while watching the dancing crowd of girls. They’re all pussy-whipped, miserable males.

“I never thought I’d say this, Daemon. But snap the fuck out of it!” To emphasize my point, I click my fingers in his face.

Wings spread out on either side of the armchair, he pushes himself up, slides an arm around the backs of my thighs, and pulls me on top of him. “Have you fucked anyone lately, Dari?”

“No, I sure as fuck haven’t. And if you think I’m touching you when you’re moping around like a fucking loser, you’re dead wrong.”

His chuckle rubs me the wrong way. I try to push off him, but he bands both arms around me. It’s awkward, to say the least, to lie sprawled on top of him like this, with my cheek pressed against his warm chest. “It’s the same for you, huh? Can’t fuck anyone but a certain little brat with a golden pussy? Screw that shit. I’m over it.”

“Yeah?” I ask, digging my nails into his chest and renewing my efforts to push up. “How’s that going? Have you dipped it in any wet holes lately?”

“Have I fuck,” he says with a snort, finally releasing me.

Jumping up, I brush my hair out of my eyes. “Instead of behaving like a fucking toddler who lost his blood source, why don’t you do something about it. Take her back.”

His head shakes, and I don’t miss how he avoids my gaze. “That’s a bad idea.”NôvelDrama.Org exclusive content.

Fed up with him and his lazy ass, I walk straight up to the nearest female, grab her by the hair, and haul her out. She kicks and screams like a fucking banshee.

When I return to the room, the other girls run for the door, not wishing to be subjected to the fury blazing in my eyes. To make sure they run fucking far away, I launch a fireball at their asses. “Stay the fuck away!” Breathing out a heavy sigh before plastering on a smile that’s not at all psychotic, I turn my attention to the pathetic boys I’ve been ladened with since birth. I point to Alaric and Ronan. “You and you. Go fetch the little angel. I’ve had enough of this. I’m hungry and need to dine on a wet pussy tonight. I don’t care if she’s growling or hurling insults at me. I want her tied to my bed by the night’s end. Got it?”

Ronan jumps up and salutes me, but Alaric takes his time, unfurling and rising to his feet like a lazy cat. As he stretches his arms overhead, his black T-shirt rides up to reveal a sliver of olive skin and a trail of dark hairs. “You’re starting to sound like Daemon.”

“Daemon is a whiny brat. At least I’m not letting my pride stop me from going after what I want.”

“You heard her,” Alaric says, stretching out his wings behind him before tucking them back in. “She doesn’t want us anymore.”

“Well, there are a lot of things we don’t want in life.” I point to the door, with a blood-red nail. “Go get her.”

“Bossy,” chuckles Ronan as he leaves.

With a quirked brow, I wait for Alaric to follow, but the annoying shit ruffles my hair first. “You’re cute when you’re wound up.”

I bat him off, teeth bared.

Laughter follows him out the door, and I wait until the front door slams shut before zeroing in on the alpha of the pack, who has lit a cigarette and sunk deeper into the cushions. As I watch, he brings it to his lips, takes a deep, slow drag, and lets his arm flop over the armrest. The prominent veins that paint a roadmap on the underside of his arm draw my attention for a brief second. Leather bracelets encircle his wrist, and two thick, silver rings adorn his fingers—one on his thumb and one on his middle finger. Everything about Daemon is sensual, from the way he moves, to the way he drawls his words in that deep, husky voice of his—almost as if he’s whispering filth in your ear.

But now, there’s something else that strikes the eye. Something I haven’t seen before. A vulnerability that shines through his hard exterior. I’m on a mission to chip away at it and find the gold hidden underneath.

Cigarette back between his lips, he watches me approach with a dark glint in his eyes that he reserves for his sexual encounters. If he thinks I have any intention of touching him tonight, he’s wrong.

I want to do something far worse.

I want to break through to him because, for whatever reason, he hides behind an impenetrable exterior.

Climbing onto his lap, I hike my skirt up and straddle his lap. The familiar sensation of his warm hands sliding a slow path up my thighs threatens to derail my thoughts. I snatch the cigarette from his lips and take a long, deep drag to calm my soul. I’m fretting, and I don’t know why.

“What happened to you, Daemon?”

The expression on his face never changes, but his hands’ journey falters on my thigh. It’s so quick I almost miss it. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” I blow the smoke at his face—because I’m a bitch, and he’s aggravatingly stubborn. “You’re my friend, Daemon. Possibly my best friend, and believe it or not, it hurts to see you like this.”

His sensuous lips pull up to the left in just the hint of a smirk. Stroking circles with his thumbs, he studies me for a long moment. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Dammit, Daemon,” I growl, reaching behind me to crush the cigarette in the ashtray. When I turn back, his finger is on my lips in a bid to silence the tirade that’s threatening to spill from my lips, but like an avalanche, there’s no stopping it. “I love you, Daemon. We all love you. Don’t you get it? While you were trapped in the cellar, being subjected to God only knows what kind of torture, I was going out of my mind with worry. Ronan and Alaric were the only things that kept me from going after the angels hurting you. It was hell!” I point to my chest, tears wobbling in my eyes. “I was in hell.”

His thumb ghosts my cheekbone, drawing a rattling breath from my aching lungs.

“So I’m asking you, what happened, Daemon? What happened to break you like this?”

“My father happened,” he whispers, watching me intently. “He made me see the truth.”

“And what’s the fucking truth?” I all but shriek. “Tell me, Daemon. What the hell is it?”

His hand falls away, and he cuts his gaze to the window. Outside, the moon slips behind the clouds, snuffing out the stream of moonlight on the floor. “I’m not good enough for someone like her. I can’t protect her against danger.”

“Goddammit!” I jump off his lap and begin to pace, unable to keep the frustration inside any longer. “You are enough! Why can’t you fucking see that? She’s so fucking in love with you, and the only reason she’s pushing you away, pushing us all away, is because she’s scared. This is what your father wants. Are you gonna let him win?”

Daemon says nothing, and it angers me enough to collapse to my knees between his spread legs. Placing my hands on his muscular thighs, I stare up at him through stinging, blurry eyes. “Please, Daemon. Don’t let him win. You don’t want me. You don’t want this…” My voice breaks on the last note, and the pesky tears wobbling precariously on my lower lashes fall. I reach for his hand, stroking the veins on top of it with my thumb. “What did they do to you?”

A muscle clenches in his jaw as he stares down at me with empty eyes. But behind the void, something flares to life. I cling to it like a life raft, pushing up higher onto my knees. “Talk to me.”

“They tied my wings and fed me a potion that put out the fire in my soul. While I was unable to practice fire magic or move my wings, they beat me, cut me with knives, whipped me, and threatened to rape her if I wouldn’t let her go.”

Drawing in a horrified gasp, I stare at his face, noting every tic in his jaw, every flex of muscle. They emasculated him and stole his wings. His hellfire. They broke him down mentally over the course of a week. A proud male angel, like Daemon… I can’t even begin to imagine him tied up and whipped by lesser males with smaller wings while they taunted him with threats of fucking his female. Just the damn thought boils my blood. No wonder he shies away from Aurelia now. No wonder he feels incapable of protecting her. It’ll take time for him to find his pride again. To see that no one is more worthy of a fierce angel like her than him. I can’t imagine what he went through, and I know he’s holding back the true horrors of what they did to him.

“Daemon,” I whisper, and his gaze, swimming with regret and shame, slowly skates back from the window. “Don’t let your father win. We will figure it out. Together. We always do.” I implore him with my eyes to see the truth. “No one can protect the little witch better than you.” Waving a hand at the door where the others left a few minutes ago, I add, “Better than all of us. Together.”

His throat jumps on a swallow, and I press on. “I have never met a fiercer angel than you. I don’t know what they did to you down there, but I do know you, Daemon.” Reaching up, I place my palm flat on his chest, over his thudding heart. “You won’t let some pathetic, smaller-winged males break you down to the point where you let another man steal our angel from us. She’s ours. It’s time we get her back.”

“I couldn’t protect her.” His voice is weak and so fucking tortured that I want to claw my own heart out because his haunted gaze makes it hurt like nothing else. Instead, I reach up and cup his cheeks. “You know as well as I do that if they hadn’t tied your wings and fed you some bullshit potion to put out your flame, like some chicken shits afraid of their own shadows, you’d have roasted them with a flick of your fingers. Don’t let them steal your power, too.”

When he draws in a breath and nods softly, I feel like I’ve won the damn lottery. My smile slips free, and I throw myself at him, almost strangling him with my arms wrapped around the back of his neck. Nose buried in his neck, I don’t even attempt to hold the stinging tears back. “I fucking love you, Daemon. You’re my favorite person in the whole fucking world.”

“And you’re so fucking emotional, I don’t know if I should be scared or not.”

Laughter slips free from my lips. I hold him tighter, sniffling pathetically against his warm skin. “Promise me one thing.”

“Anything.” His arms slide around my waist, hugging me close.

“Don’t let your father win again.”

His warm breath shifts the hairs on the top of my head as he presses a soft kiss there. “Next time, I’ll kill him.”