Through Flame and Blade

Ch. 25 Dangers of Lust

*Logan

The pain of being burned by her wings while he held her was nothing compared to the pain of knowing she wanted him because Hell was infecting her with lust. He did what he had to do, though. They had a deal. He had to get her out, so she could help him find a safe hiding place in the midlands.

He would bring her with him, then.

If he started to enjoy her, and give in to his own lust now, he had no idea if he could stop. But once they made it out of here, she would remember who he truly was—the Wing Cutter—and she would be rid of him as soon as her end of the bargain was done. Fuck.

He wasn't an idiot. Hell played tricks on the mind and heart, and it was wreaking havoc with Chiara. So far, everything she did was to survive or because Hell tricked her. She would never want him when she was free.

No angel would ever freely choose a demon.

This pain—worse than being burned—was becoming unbearable.

Keeping to the edges of the hall and the shadows near the columns, he strode forward, trusting Chiara to follow.

He shouldn't have been so naïve.

Not five minutes after skirting the lighted tables and raucous crowds around the many gambling and buffet tables, he reached behind him to warn Chiara of guards nearby.

His hand met with empty air.

"Blast me to the aether, where the fuck is she?" he muttered, glancing back.

There, the tips of her wings were trailing on the floor in the middle of the hall, heading towards the great tables covered with platters of food, and the brighter lights. He jogged back to get her.

She startled at his touch, hands coming up defensively.

"It's me. What are you do—" His voice broke. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Pure rage swamped him. He spun, ready for the kill.

Who the fuck touched his angel? He was going to destroy every fucking demon in the hall, by pulling out their intest—

"I can't remember the taste of fruit," she said.

He unclenched his fists. "What do you mean?"

She pointed at a table that practically dipped in the middle it was laden so heavily with delectable dishes, including bowls of shining fruit—berries, apples, pears, dripping tropical fruits cut in half and more.

"The fruit," she said. "I can taste ash and copper, but I can't remember the taste of fruit."

He groaned.

The halls were deadly dangerous in their own way, just less obviously than the secret tunnels and hidden passages. She didn't need the food, she would survive without it, but she'd been a prisoner for months, and it was one of the ways Dirk, Lucius, and Zeigfel tortured her.

"Chiara." He clenched his fists again. "If I get you some of the fruit, will you stay here? Then, we'll keep going. We have to get through the hall without this turning into another fight."

She nodded. "And a glass of water. Clean water."

He wished Lucius wasn't dead so he could kill him himself, slowly. Painfully. Clean water.

What would his torture be in heaven? Would they let him rinse the blood from his mouth at the day's end? Tears sparkled in her eyes, but she nodded, and a smile lit her mouth.

Fine. He would steal fruit for that smile—he would raise an army and invade an orchard surrounded by the forces of Heaven for that smile.

He glanced about, then squared his shoulders. He belonged here. With his proudest, most casual swagger, he strode into the light and made his way to the table where three human females approached him instantly, promising good times and other delectable things to eat...