As an angel trained to fight the forces of demons, Chiara knew to not let them take her alive, but she never expected to survive her first battle. Trapped in the depths of hell and tortured, only one thing is keeping her alive - the demon kept priso...
The thrill of battle sang in Logan's blood, muscles, and bone. There was no going back now. Kill or be killed.
He didn't hesitate. He didn't falter.
His battle, this time, was for his angel. He would keep her after all, he decided as he slashed his way through the press of angry demons and humans who thought they stood a chance against him.
The Dark Flame cut them down.
Yes, he would keep her entirely for himself and never give her back to the world—
—and fuck.
The Hall of Envy in his head. He was like a new-spawn creeping into the halls for the first time, seeking the pleasure offered there, falling straight into its trap of letting the sins control him, instead of him controlling them.
Greed, wrath, lust—those three made him start a fight, when his plan had been to work his way quickly, and quietly, to the end of this hall. Sloth, gluttony, pride, and envy didn't have their claws in him, yet. Well, maybe pride.
A particularly skilled opponent slowed him. The demon fought with a wicked broadsword, killing those standing too close as he swung for Logan's head. Logan leaned back to let the blade pass over him, then lunged low with his short sword. He didn't have the reach. The other demon side-stepped, easy, and slashed again.
Fuck it. Logan grabbed another opponent to throw in the way, and took off running.
Nope. Pride wouldn't slow him down—he didn't have fucking time for a duel. His enemy hollered a battle cry, filled with wrath to see Logan escaping.
The whole situation was ridiculous by this point. The demons fighting him now didn't even know why they were fighting. The noise of the music and darkness had covered the initial confrontation and Chiara had passed over their heads unseen.
They wanted blood and he was a target.
He barreled through bodies like ball knocking over pins. The doors appeared through the darkness and flashing strobe lights—he was close. But the crowd was thick here and he was attracting too much attention. He shoved. He pushed. He cut and stabbed, taking weapons from enemies and killing them with them.
Chiara stood at the edge of the huge doors, the golden light from the next hall falling on her in a soft halo.
She was beautiful—his angel. The scum here couldn't have her. No one else would ever have her.
"Go, go!" he shouted.
She disappeared behind the doors. He dropped his head, took a knife deep in his thigh, gritted his teeth and shoved forward.
He ripped the blade free and plunged it into the neck of a demon in his way. Roaring, he broke through the last knot of opponents. The path was clear.
He sprinted, ignoring every pain-ridden cut and broken bone.
Heal, he hissed to his body. Come on. You've been through worse. Heal!
He reached the doors and darted through the narrow opening. Chiara was on the other side, wild eyed.
"Sword!" Without waiting for her to answer or give it to him, he grabbed the sword from her hand and shoved the doors closed, then blocked the handles by lying the sword horizontally on top of them. It would not hold long, it was barely balanced on the handles.
He braced a shoulder against the wood and Chiara copied him on the other door.
"This isn't a plan," she hissed. "The sword—my sword you stole from me—won't keep them out."
"I know," he said.
At the same instant, the doors shuddered, but held. They were pushing on the other side.
There was nothing nearby in this hall—Gluttony—to help them. Plush red carpet, huge columns, and soft lights were the only things in reach.
Further off, the gamblers were too absorbed with the games and food at their casino tables to have noticed the commotion at this end of the hall. A hundred enraged demons were about to burst in on them, though, all screaming for blood, and when that happened, he and Chiara would be in the middle.
This wasn't good.
If only Chiara had done as he told her....
"This is your fault," she hissed, contradicting his unspoken opinion. "I told you we would never make it through the middle of the crowds in the halls. We barely got through one and there are six more to go."
"The halls are better than anything else Hell can throw at you."
The doors groaned and jumped, the sword clattered against the steel handles, as demons shoved from the other side.
Sweat made his skin slick and stung in his eyes. He huffed for air, every muscle straining to hold the doors.
"Admit you were wrong!" Chiara said through gritted teeth. "Admit it!"
"You know what went wrong? You fell prey to the one of the seven deadlies."
"Never."
"Pride, Chiara," he said, grunting against the weight of the door. "Pride snuck up and got you, didn't it? You just had to show them what an amazing warrior you are instead of listening to me."
"Warrior and demon killer is who I am." She kicked at the floor, tearing holes in the carpet, trying to keep the door closed.
He put his hands on both doors to help her. Something was banging against the wood on the other side. A table?
"Damn it," she whispered. "Do you demons keep battering rams in the dance-clubs for emergencies? And as for sin, you said the last hall was envy. Why would pride get me?"
"That's the way the halls fuck with you. They lure you into one, or more, of the seven deadlies, and before you know it, you are fucked."
"What hall is this?" she asked, obviously faltering under the strain. One of her heels snapped off from the pressure.
They weren't going to be able to hold much longer. He grunted. "Gluttony."
"What's your plan, then? Food fight?"
"You are hilarious," he hissed.
"Why did you say I'm your prize? It isn't true."
"Greed made me say it." He twisted to face her. "I want you for myself."
Greed still made him want her more than anything else he'd ever known or desired. Candlelight licked her rich brown hair and pale skin with gold, her wings were iridescent grey behind her, still marked with the passionate sin of their kiss. He did that to her, marked her with his desire.
He struggled to keep breathing enough air in her presence, as she was drowning him simply by being near.
There were no chains to stop him.
No rules or whips to keep him from touching her.
*** Thank you for reading - as promised at the beginning, this is a slow burn, but things are about to heat up... Hit the star if you enjoyed! ***
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