Chapter 15 Archer
Chapter fifteen
Archer
The fury that raced through me was nearly unstoppable.
How dare she? How fucking dare she?
Marching toward them, my shadows pouring off me in furious waves, I shouldered past Vine, my footsteps determined and my anger palpable.
“What the fuck are you doing out of your room?”
“What?” She had the audacity to act confused.
“You were so quick to get away from me earlier,” I snarled, ignoring Mal’s impatient growl. “Why are you here now, getting in the way?” When no one said anything I tried another approach, my anger overriding any sense I may have possessed.
At least I was calling it anger.
I refused to call it jealousy.
“Or perhaps there’s another answer, hmm?
” Casting a disgusted look at her, letting all of my disdain show on my face as I gazed to where she had plastered herself against Mal’s shirtless body, I added, “Is that how you thought you’d escape us?
Seduction?” Letting out a scandalized gasp, Delilah let go of Mal and stumbled backward, looking both affronted and hurt at the same time.
I would never admit to the way my own heart clenched in response to her visible pain.
“That’s not—we weren’t doing anything!” Shaking her head, she straightened her shoulders, her hurt fading as more anger took its place. “We were just talking when we heard the explosion. We came to help is all.”
“Help?” I scoffed, letting out a dark chuckle.
My brain knew what I was saying was pathetic, my accusations ridiculous.
But I needed to lash out, to hurt. My emotions were in control, and the panic that clawed at my chest when I saw Delilah touching another man was all I could see.
“What help could you possibly offer us? You’re nothing but a failed witch without a decent coven.
You’re not worth the time it would take to put you down. ”
“That’s enough,” Mal grumbled, putting a hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged him off.
“I may not have a coven,” Delilah said, her voice strong despite the tremble in her lower lip.
“But I have gotten the better of you twice since we’ve met, demon.
” She spat the word mockingly, and the fire inside me grew.
All around us my shadows writhed, sucking the light out of the hallway and shrouding us all in angry darkness.
“You can bet there won’t be a third time, witch.”
I reached for her, my hands coming up, ready to wrap themselves around her throat—to touch her. I needed to touch her—but before I could actually make contact, a jolt of pain shot through my entire body, stealing my breath and sending me staggering backward in shock.
“Holy Hell,” Vine muttered, his words barely registering as I gazed down at my hands in disbelief.
Slashed across my palms were twin burn marks, the skin blistered and red.
“Archer, I—” Delilah’s horrified words reeked of sincerity. “I didn’t mean to. I’ve never done that before. I don’t even know how I—”
“Enough.” Taking the pocket square out of my jacket, I shook it open and wrapped it around one hand, hissing at the pain that even the lightest contact created.
Fuck me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d suffered any kind of physical damage.
And certainly nothing that had come from a mere mortal witch.
Stuffing the other hand into my pocket to hide the evidence of the wound, I stared at her, watching as the shadow collar pulsed at her throat. It moved like an turbulent sea, frothing and writhing in agitation, a thing of menace for the first time.
It had protected her. I wasn’t truly going to hurt her—frighten her into telling the truth, maybe, but not hurt her—but that hadn’t mattered to the magic that I’d left resting against her delicate throat.
Rising up, the collar I’d placed around her neck to confine her had actually prevented me from harming her.
My own magic, used against me.
Was there nothing this witch wouldn’t twist to her own advantage?
“I don’t care how you did it,” I said, my words low, meant only for her ears. “But you can rest assured you will never get the opportunity to do it again.”
Turning from her pale, surprised face, I faced my men, all of whom were looking at me with varying degrees of shock.
“Gather your things. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”
“Where are we—” Delilah started, but my patience was completely shot.
“Either you get what you need or it will be left behind. It’s no loss to me either way.”
Shooting me another look filled with hurt and confusion, she darted down the hall and out of sight.
Back in the kitchen, I bypassed the espresso machine and headed straight to the wet bar, snatching up the first decanter I could reach and taking several deep swallows, ignoring the way the cool surface of the crystal soothed my aching palm.
Blowing out a breath, I scowled, wishing I had a cigarette; I would have given just about anything for a calming dose of nicotine, but I’d smoked my last one at Styx he was a man who was more than happy taking orders, but had no interest in giving them.
But judging by the disappointment in his gaze, that might not be true for much longer.
“As you wish, sir.” The honorific held no respect, and I clenched my jaw tightly to keep from showing how much that truly gutted me. This man was my friend—my brother in every sense of the word—and I was throwing my rank in his face like either of us thought it was important.
I was as disgusted with myself as he was.
“I’ll just get my things, then. We’ll be ready when you give the word.”
Turning his back on me, Corson walked slowly out of the kitchen, the tension in his shoulders proving that he was just as pissed off as I was. Too bad neither of us could do a damned thing about it.
Plucking my phone out of my pocket, I fired off some messages, arranging for some of the lesser demons in my service to deal with the mess that fucking bounty hunter had left of my house.
What was the point in having minions if you didn’t use them for mundane bullshit?
Well before the ten minutes were up, the four of them gathered in the kitchen, all looking different shades of sullen. None more so than Delilah, who stood, dressed once again in her cloak and refused to meet my gaze while she stroked her hand over the pouch that contained her hedgehog.
It also didn’t escape my notice that Mal stood nearby, positioning his body so that he not-so-subtly stood between her and I.
Fine then. I guess the lines had been drawn.
“Where to, boss?” Vine asked, his words stuffed with false levity.
“To do the job we were assigned to do. Asmodeus wants the three pieces of the Fallen Key found. We’ve managed to fumble the first,” I complained, sweeping my arm to one side and opening a shadow gate, the image of a softly lit fountain filling the space.
“Let’s hope the second is where it’s supposed to be, or there will be some serious hell to pay. ”