Touched by Darkness: (Sins of The Fallen Book 2)

We stay locked in a stare-down until I release a defeated sigh and step back. What options do I have but to tell them the truth? But even if I tell him the truth, he won’t believe me.

None of them will.

The truth is too far-fetched, too crazy, and too out there.

“I can’t tell you the truth,” I whisper quietly.

“You can’t, or you won’t.”

“I can’t.” There’s a bite to my tone now. “I can’t explain it to you because it doesn’t even make sense to me.”

Dariana snorts with disgust, and Alaric narrows his eyes on me, as if he’s hunting for more than the truth.

“You have no choice but to try, little witch.”

My attention returns to Daemon, who watches me from beneath his dark lashes. His gaze lacks the affection it once held, and it hurts so much to be the subject of his cold indifference that I avert my gaze and stare at my reflection in the window behind him. The wind whips through the trees, causing a branch to slam against the glass rhythmically. I choose to focus on it instead of the tense silence in the room.

“I don’t think you understand, little witch. Either you tell us the truth, or we hurt you. Now, I suggest you sing like a lark.”

My teeth grind together as I meet his unrelenting, detached gaze. “The simple fact that you’re willing to hurt me is why I’ll keep the truth to myself.”

The old Daemon would have never hurt me. Even as I think it, I know I’m lying to myself. The old Daemon hurt me time and time again to get beneath my skin so he could peer inside me.

But not like this. He wanted me in his own twisted way.

Daemon rises from his seat and kills the distance between us in three steps. That’s all it takes before he’s in front of me, engulfing me with his dark presence that whispers to mine. His punishing fingers dig into my chin, commanding my attention. Fighting is futile, so I don’t even try as I meet his dark gaze and allow him to pull me further into his darkness.

“I’ll tell you a story, Daemon. There once was an angel with blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and wings as white as God’s eternal light. The little angel wandered Eden aimlessly, restless and curious about the world outside the shimmering golden gates. For years, she fought the desire to let her inquisitive mind lead her into trouble until, one day, she found herself in front of the gates. As if they had waited for her, they creaked open, and the angel snuck out.

She hesitated at the tree line, staring up at the tall, spindly trees that resembled demons with fangs and talons. Inside her, a little voice urged her to go back, to stay clear of the darkness calling out her name and urging her closer. But against her better judgment, she entered the forest, and it swallowed her whole.” I wrench free from his grip and pin him with my steady gaze. “Three male angels, with wings black as night, found the angel wandering through the trees and decided to take her back to Hell.

Once there, they corrupted her soul beyond repair, toyed with her, and stole her heart. They dipped her wings in ink and tattooed themselves on the tapestry that made up her very essence. Her very soul. More importantly, they stole her from God. But an enemy had them in his sight. A terrifying, dangerous, and vengeful enemy, who entered the angel’s mind, threatening her life.

She defeated the enemy and found herself back inside Eden, but the sun’s warming rays and the scent and colors of the wildflowers no longer held the same appeal. The angel found herself longing for the twinkling stars in the night sky, the owl that hooted in the distance, and raven feathers, as dark and smoky as the ones sprouting beneath the downy white feathers of her own wings. The enemy still lived inside her mind, entrapped until her dying breath.” I dig my finger into my temple. “Haunting her every nightmare, taunting her with the darkness that was growing inside her like a festering disease until she could no longer deny the call of the woods that traveled on the warm breeze to tease her hair. So she struck a deal with the enemy. A deal to set her free.” I lower my hand and step back, my throat clogged with emotion. “When she returned to Hell, now a fully fledged fallen angel, she found herself in a different timeline. One in which her tormentors had never met her. Never touched her. Never loved her. One in which she was a stranger.

And the truth she saw in their eyes slayed her. While she stared at them with longing and love, they looked back at her with cold detachment… indifference… And somewhere, in some distant timeline, those same three boys still love her. She knows it deep down, despite her enemy telling her that the timeline no longer exists, that it was somehow erased by her mind. But love, once it touches you, never dies. The universe—God—couldn’t be so cruel as to erase her from their minds so completely, yet keep them engraved on hers like the markings of a tombstone.” My eyes prick with tears, but I walk away before they can fall, refusing to subject myself anymore to this pain. If they want to hurt me, then so be it.

Much to my relief, they don’t follow me outside into the silent night. I let my tears fall freely while I walk down the gravel path that leads through the tall trees. The wind whistles through the crooked branches, and the rustle of leaves in the canopy overhead soothes my aching soul.

I have so many unanswered questions.

When Lucifer walked out of Eden, he wasn’t alone.

I am.

And I feel so lost.

The loss of light inside me echoes loudly, and I don’t yet know how to control the darkness slowly filling up the empty void that used to house the blinding rays.

Hell darkens my soul like an eclipse.

Leaving behind a trail of destruction in its wake.

Maddening hunger.

Blood lust.

Aching fangs and a red mist that crawls along the forest floor like tendrils of smoke.

My thoughts scatter when I look up and spot the hooded figure in front of me. The same hooded figure that chased me in the library.

I step back, and he steps forward.

“What do you want?” My voice trembles as my gaze slides down to the knife in his hand. The curved blade reflects the moonlight when he cocks his head and lifts his finger to his shadowed lips.

Fear sinks its talons into me and steals my breath, my voice, my ability to think rationally. One minute, I’m staring at the hooded figure, and the next, my feet move, and I bolt through the trees.

Branches catch in my hair, tearing it out at the roots, and grab for my arms, cutting through flesh like curved, sharp nails. I don’t stop running. My heart thunders in my chest, my thighs burn, and my heavy feet pound the soft moss. A whimper escapes me when I feel hands reach for me from behind.

I dart to the left, stumbling over a fallen branch, but manage to right myself at the last minute. As I whirl around, my breaths gust out of me in the cool night air. There’s no sign of my pursuer.

The night is silent, eerily so.

I suck in a breath and hold it, then yelp when a stick snaps nearby. My gaze darts around almost frantically. I can’t pinpoint the sound of footsteps. They seem to come from my left, my right, behind me, and everywhere all at once.

“What do you want?” I scream, then spin around when a branch snaps back into place to my right.

Silence descends once more, pressing in from all angles and stealing the last bit of my breath. I don’t dare move.

I’m hunted like a rabbit by a snarling wolf—no, a fox. Where a wolf is vicious, a fox is cunning. Always three steps ahead.

A hand clamps over my mouth from behind and pulls me into their hooded body, making me yelp, but the frightened sound dies in my chest when the sharp blade digs into my throat. The stinging pain has me panting through my nose as blood seeps to the surface and slides down between my breasts.

Quick, shallow breaths waft over my ear, and for a moment in time—a brief moment filled with fear, panic, and regrets—I let my eyes fall shut. I don’t want to die. Not here, and not like this.

Flames flicker at my fingertips, tingling my skin, but before I can wrangle my fear enough to let the flames grow, the person behind me is gone as if they were never there.

I whirl around, my hair sticking to the tears on my cheeks and the trail of blood on my chest. The silent night stares back at me, intruded upon by the hooting owl in the distance.

ALARIC

Daemon joins me at the bar, where I lean with my elbows on the sticky surface while eyeing up the human behind the counter.

“Her?” He sounds incredulous. “Why not some easier prey?”

“Who said I want easy?”

Daemon snorts, then gestures for her to pour him a beer. We don’t consume human food and drinks for sustenance, but we can still enjoy alcohol like the pathetic humans crowding this bar.

Ronan joins us, his hair disheveled and his shirt creased.

I eye the lipstick mark on his collar. “We’ve been here less than ten minutes and you’ve already fucked a human?”

He slaps the bar to catch the barmaid’s attention, then says to me, “Ten minutes? Are you on drugs? I take a lot fucking longer to finish than ten minutes.”

“I don’t understand why you fuck humans if you’re not gonna feed on them,” Daemon drawls, raising the pint of beer to his lips. “They’re mediocre in bed, at best.”

“But it’s so much fun to make them bounce on my cock and watch the sheer fucking surprise on their faces. Human men don’t have half the stamina of angels.”

“They can’t be all that fucking bad since our female angels still fuck them as part of the hunt.” There’s an edge to Daemon’s voice that makes me look over at him with an intrigued frown.

He meets my gaze, lowers the glass from his mouth, and wipes the froth off his lips. “What?”

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That comment?”

“What comment?” Daemon downs the last of his beer before gesturing for a refill.

“The one about female angels fucking human men as part of the hunt?”

Daemon accepts the glass of beer, ignoring me as he gulps it like it’s soda.

“I bet he smarts because the little witch fucked the human man before killing him in cold blood and tearing into him like a wrapped Christmas present.”

My eyes fly to Ronan, and then it dawns on me. Daemon is jealous.

I laugh before I can stop myself. “Seriously, Daemon? That’s what you’re thinking about right now? The little witch fucking a human?”

His dark eyes slowly slide to me, so slowly it’s a miracle a century hasn’t passed before the full weight of his dark gaze lands on my face. “And your point is?”

My shoulders rise and fall in a careless shrug. “Just that I have never seen you jealous before.”

“I’m not fucking jealous.”

Another pint of beer is placed in front of him, as if the lady behind the bar can sense the tension that radiates off him like heat waves in summer.

He barely spares her a glance.

Ronan speaks up. “I bet the human she killed loved it when she sucked his dick. I don’t care how scared he was; I bet she sucked him down like he was her favorite meal, and he probably choked to death on his own saliva.”

The glass in Daemon’s hand shatters, and I jump back when the cold beer pours everywhere.

“Not jealous, huh?” Ronan looks far too fucking amused.

“I can’t believe you’re jealous because of a dead human man.” I flap my wet T-shirt.

“He’s fucking lucky he’s dead, or what she did to him would look like child’s play in comparison.”

Ronan and I stare after Daemon as he walks over to the dance floor in search of an easy meal.

“Well,” I start, “I didn’t see that curveball coming.”

“Are you kidding me?” chuckles Ronan. “I saw it coming a mile away when she first gave him attitude.”

I consider his words while leaning back against the counter with my arms crossed over my chest.

Two girls wearing minuscule dresses, with fake tits and pouty lips, throw us flirty glances. Ronan entertains their advances by buying them a round of drinks.

Me? I’m watching Daemon finger a girl in plain sight on the dance floor as if he carries a personal vendetta against the human. It wouldn’t surprise me if he drains her blood for everyone here to see, too.

I should probably intervene before I have to clean up another mess, but more pressing thoughts steal my attention. “What do you think of the little witch’s story?”

Ronan, who has planted himself between the girls, looks up, his eyes bright and amused. “I think we should take these girls somewhere and fuck their tits.”

I frown, dragging my eyes away from Daemon and the human girl. “What?”

The horndog has his hand down each girl’s dress, fondling their breasts.

“Can you focus for a moment?”

He pulls a face that makes the girls laugh, then he reluctantly looks over at me.

“Do you think the little witch was talking about herself? That she has somehow… I don’t know…”

“The timeline shit?”

“Yeah.” I pick up my glass of beer and let the sparkling bubbles cool my insides.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything so ridiculous in my life.”

“She seemed sincere.”

“She just wants to fuck us.” He’s back to playing with the girls’ tits.

With a frown, I tip the glass back and drink the last remnants of beer before slamming the glass down and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “If she wanted to fuck us, she would just ask us to fuck her.”

“Well, if it’s not sex she wants, then she’s planning something with Amenadiel.”

Now that sounds more likely, but I still can’t stop mulling her story over in my head. If she was, in fact, telling the truth, then that means she’s met us before. She mentioned falling in love with us.

My brain loves a good puzzle, and this is the ultimate challenge for me to piece together. But there are pieces missing to complete it.

“We’re going about this all wrong,” I muse. “We should befriend her and get her to trust us.”

I can’t see any other way to dig the truth out of her, and it’s quickly becoming abundantly clear that I crave more information.

“Dariana is on it.”

My head shakes as I slide the empty glass away. “That’s not enough. We need her to trust us, too.”

“Can’t you just fucking relax for a minute? I’m starving, and these fine young ladies want us to do bad things to them in the dark alleyway outside.” He cups their chins. “Isn’t that right, ladies?”

We came here to hunt, and the willing prey is gazing up at us with stars in their eyes, but blood is the last thing on my mind. For once, my brain is talking my dick off the ledge. Even so, I know we need to feed. It’s been a while since we visited the human world and I need this as much as my brothers.

I follow them across the dance floor, weaving through bodies, past Daemon, who is still fingering the human with punishing thrusts, and outside into the cold and dark night.

Ronan is straight in there, fucking one girl hard against the brick wall while the other strokes my slack cock through my jeans.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?” Ronan asks me, the girl bouncing off his dick with loud shrieks. He slaps her bobbing tits, then kneads them. “Or do I need to prep them both? Not that I complain. More pussy for me.”

My hand flies up and tangles in the girl’s long, curly hair. I wrench her away and toss her aside, in no fucking mood to let her touch me. Ronan’s laughter rings out in the night as Daemon walks out through the door, shoving his human in front of him while looking as if he wants to strangle her.

What the hell is happening? I’ve never hesitated to fuck a woman before as part of the hunt. And Daemon? He fingered her on the dance floor, but he didn’t take it further.

Pigs fly.

“What?” he growls when I continue staring at him, and my gaze slides to the whimpering woman by his side. The only thing preventing her from running away is his iron-tight grip on her arm.

“Nothing,” I reply with a shrug. It’s not like I have a leg to stand on when I haven’t made a move to touch my own meal.

Daemon casts a glance at Ronan, who is now fucking the girl on all fours on the cold and gritty ground. He sniffs, and then his eyes slide to mine. It’s so brief that I almost miss it.

Daemon strikes, sinking his teeth into the human’s neck. I take that as my cue to let my beast out to play.