Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
R ook gave an extravagant bow before me as his hand offered up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, à la demon cum style. He’d cut it into the shape of male genitalia with ‘ congrats on taming Sy’s cock ’ written on the outside curve of the fine China he served it on. Given the dark color of the substance used to write the message, I was certain Rook used his spunk.
I sat there at the kitchen’s center island wearing one of Atlas’s burgundy tees that I had tossed on before coming downstairs. My body swam in it, fitting more like a dress than a shirt.
I giggled, accepted Rook’s thoughtful offering, and set it down on the counter in front of me.
Sylas walked into the kitchen wearing a fresh pair of jeans and pulling his shirt down over his head before heading to the fridge. As he pulled out a bottle of water, Rook retrieved a second sandwich and set it down next to mine.
With a cheeky grin, Rook looked over at Sy. “Mate, don’t feel left out. I made you one, too.”
The sandwich he offered up to Sy was much like mine. However, it appeared to be cut out in the shape of a cunt. The message sprawled across the top of the plate was less congratulatory in nature and more blunt—‘ fucking finally. ’
Atlas leaned against the counter, stifling a laugh at the cross look on Sy’s face when he stepped up to the center island.
A quiet mumbling came from Sy as he shook his head.
“Jesus Christ, there is something wrong with you,” he said before taking a long swig from the chilled water bottle he had just gotten out of the fridge.
Immediately, I began chowing down on what was on my plate while my archangel returned to his typical brusque self, even if subdued slightly.
With a glimmer of affection in his grey eyes, Atlas warmly smiled at me.
“You know, angel, I never saw this coming,” he said with amusement.
My eyes met his as I raised both brows.
“Never saw what coming?” I grinned at him, intrigued by his statement.
He leaned over as his hand came underneath my chin, tilting my head back slightly so I stared up at him. Lightly, his lips brushed over mine as he spoke against them. “Seeing you open yourself up to more than just me. Allowing yourself to be cherished by each of us in the way you deserve. It was my greatest fear after I was taken from you on St. Cassius that you’d never find your balance and happiness.”
After a gentle kiss to my lips, his tongue flicked out and licked the corner of my mouth where there was a smudge of the sandwich’s filling.
“Aye, I’m incredibly proud of you, love,” Rook stated with a sense of pride in his words.
Then, we all looked over at Sylas. He stood there looking back at us with a stoic expression before clearing his throat as the other two gave him expectant looks.
Setting his water down on the counter, he lightly wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and gently tugged me toward him as he pressed a kiss to the top of my head.
“You’ll always have us, Kin.” His breath was warm against my scalp as he spoke.
I sat there wondering if this was where I was meant to be, surrounded by my guardian, Heaven’s warrior, and an eccentric trickster. A sensation filled me that I wasn’t sure I had ever felt, not in this capacity.
Breaking the tender moment, Rook’s phone sounded with Warrant’s “Cherry Pie” blaring from the front pocket of his jeans.
Retrieving the device from the confines of his pants, he placed it to his ear. “‘ello, Rookamus speaking.” His voice sounded overly professional like he was addressing the President of the United States.
Several mhmms and uh-huhs later, he finished with, “Be there in a doodlywink.”
So much for sounding strictly professional.
I raised a curious brow at him once he pocketed his phone. “Running off?”
He came around the center island and grabbed half of Sy’s untouched sandwich before pecking a kiss onto my lips.
“Admir has news from his bloodsucking minions on our dastardly leaping lizard. I’ll return soon, hopefully with useful information.”
Nodding at Rook, I smiled sweetly. “Be careful.”
“You’re looking at the master of vigilance,” he boldly claimed with a wink before he was gone in an instant.
Drawing in a deep breath, I stretched my arms above my head, shifting my hips from one side to the other while letting out a silent yawn.
Between my physically intense session with Sy and my belly full of Rook’s special sandwich, there was a sleepy and content smile across my face.
“I think I’m going to go take a nap for a little while,” I told them both as I slid out of my seat.
“Go get some rest, I need to get dinner started on the fire outside,” Atlas encouraged me.
Looking at Atlas, Sy spoke up. “I’ll give you a hand.”
On his way past me, toward Atlas, it seemed he was willing to give me a hand as well. He patted my ass before grabbing a firm handful of it, reminding me of how he had left it deliciously sensitive from the ministrations of his belt.
I groaned appreciatively at the memory and saw a proud smirk pass over Sy’s face.
Soon after, we all went our separate ways, with the guys heading out into the backyard and me heading up to my bedroom.
To my surprise, the cream and white sheets on my bed were freshly made. Sylas must have made a point to smooth them out after I had gone downstairs earlier. He and his damn affinity for keeping things neat and structured.
Crawling into bed, I slid under the sheets, drawing the warmth of the blankets up under my arms. As I lay there, I was lulled to sleep with a little bit of each of my men surrounding me—Atlas’s shirt, the scent of Sy on my sheets, and Rook’s sandwich keeping me sated.
The faint glow of embers illuminated the darkness in the distance. Approaching the flickering orange lights, I found myself surrounded by the deceased. The victims of my St. Cassius massacre. Years of discarded human pets. Every single one of my house managers named Christina I had hired and subsequently fired.
Hiking up a steep hill, the grass and earth under my feet were soaked in the blood of the fallen.
Looking up at the top of the hill, I saw a shadow of a man. Before I reached the top, I looked down, and two familiar bodies lay at my feet.
Rook’s body was strewn over a boulder, with a large gaping wound in the center of his chest. His hazel eyes were lifeless and dull with death.
Next to my demon lover was Atlas, lying there on his stomach. His long, dark blonde locks were a tangled mess of blood and dirt. My guardian angel was gravely still with a similarly sized wound as Rook but in the center of his back.
“They’re gone,” the male voice of the figure on the crest of the hill said to me. There was a hint of sadness in his words but a bristling of rage in his body.
I was close enough now to see that the man’s back was to me. Driven to see his identity despite the darkness surrounding us, I continued my forward steps.
Once I was within arm’s length, I extended my hand to touch his shoulder. Before my fingertips could make contact, he turned to face me.
“Sylas,” I whispered the name of the archangel now staring me down.
His hand reached out and cupped the side of my face. “You did this.” The feel of his hand against my skin felt cold and unsettling. It was nothing like the touch of the man I knew.
Suddenly, there was a heavy weight in my palm. I looked down to see my Divinity Sword in my grasp, the blade dripping with the blood of all those I had killed.
“I know I did,” I stated simply.
Taking a deep breath, there was the faint scent of burnt flowers. The bitterness of the air filled my lungs just as it had done at St. Cassius many lifetimes ago.
I raised my sword in front of me, watching as the sticky lines of crimson slowly rolled down the metal.
“Give them my love,” my words were distant and cold, almost like someone else spoke them. Then, like a puppet being a slave to the pull of its strings, I drove my sword clean through Sy’s gut. The sharp edges sank into his flesh and through bone with ease.
A guttural groan emitted from him as he doubled over on my weapon before he started choking on his suffering.
Retracting my sword from his body smoothly, I watched as he dropped to his knees before me.
The Devil’s voice echoed all around me, “Forever.”
Sylas looked at me as his hands clutched onto his fatal wound, the blood pouring out through his fingers. His pained eyes met mine, and he gasped out his final words, “Salvation will only come through the awakening of your holy redemption.”
The trance of the dream broke, prompting my eyes to open. I found myself lying on my side, tucked into the comfort of my bed.
As the grogginess dissipated from my brain, I noticed a foreign object resting on the pillow in front of my face. Focusing my vision, I realized it was a rose that had been burned, leaving it shrunken and frail.
I pushed myself upright and took in the startling sight all around me. It wasn’t just a single burnt rose, but there were dozens scattered all over my bed. Their crisp and delicate state left black smudges against the otherwise unmarked bedding.
My heart raced to the call of panic’s erratic rhythm. Frantically, I looked all around my bed, and it wasn’t just the scorched roses there. With a trembling hand, I picked up one of what looked like a hundred Polaroids. The square photos littered my bed like an obscene scrapbook.
The first picture was one of me inside a coffee house. I dropped it and quickly selected the next, that one depicting me getting into my car at the mall. The next? I was getting my mail. The speed with which I began looking at every photo within my reach increased. Every single photo was of me and only me.
Then, there was one that raised every hair on the back of my neck. It was of me during my nap that I had just woken from. Surrounded by all the smoldered blossoms and other Polaroids.
If that wasn’t horrific enough, the angle of the snapshot drew my attention to the chilling message written across my headboard. The photo fell from my fingertips and fluttered down onto my comforter as I spun around to see my headboard myself.
On my knees, my eyes widened in disbelief at the sight before me. The message appeared to be written in soot. The writing may have been crudely smudged across the padded material at the head of my bed, but its message was unequivocally clear:
forever my angel
All my thoughts caved in on themselves. My inner sanctum had been breached while I was helplessly unaware. Every picture that surrounded me had been taken without me knowing, going back months, years even. The remnants of the ruined flowers harshly assaulted the air I breathed. The memory of flowers lit ablaze during my killing spree in pursuit of destroying Nicodemus came rushing to the forefront of my mind.
My body shook as my emotions swelled up in protest at what had taken place. Every sane fiber in me was ready to snap like a piece of dental floss attempting to lift a Baby Grand.
And snap, it did.