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

Dariana exits the classroom, looking spooked enough that I straighten up and push off the locker. She’s so spooked, in fact, that she doesn’t notice me as she hurries past.

Intrigued, I look back at the closed door.

I followed them here, but not once did I expect the little witch to get beneath Dari’s skin. That’s almost an impossible task in itself. Dariana has a hard shell.

As I make the decision to investigate, my phone rings inside my jeans pocket.

Fucking typical.

Dragging my eyes away from the door, I slide my cell out and tap into the screen.

It’s my father.

“Son,” his deep voice says in my ear as soon as the call connects.

“Father.” My voice is as curt as his. It’s no secret we have a strained relationship.

“I’ll be away for a few more days.”

No surprise there. My father is rarely home.

I stay silent, staring intently at the door.

Why is she still in there?

“Any news on the home front?”

“There’s a new girl at school who claims she escaped Eden.”

My father stays silent for a beat, and I revel in the knowledge that I took him by surprise. Very few things catch Lucifer off guard. He has eyes everywhere.

“She escaped Eden?”

“That’s what she claims.” I wait for a beat, then add, “But that’s not all, Father. Guess who she lives with? Who supposedly helped her escape Eden?

“Who?”

“Uncle.”

The thick silence that follows is only broken by rowdy laughter down the next hallway.

“It’s a safe assumption that your uncle is up to something. We need to play him at his own game.”

I wet my lips. “What do you want me to do?”

“Neutralize the threat.”

My lips pull back into a dark smile, and I push off the locker, then stalk toward the closed door. “Already on it.”

“Seduce the girl and dig out her secrets by any means possible. I trust you with this.”

The line goes dead.

“Pleasure to talk to you too, Dad,” I quip, typing out a quick text to Ronan and Alaric, then shove the phone back into my jeans pocket.

He’s always a joy on the phone, barking orders and treating me as if I’m another one of his minions instead of the heir to his kingdom. But for once, I am more than willing to play the role of the perfect son and make my father proud.

He wants me to fuck this girl, gain her trust, and leave her broken. I can think of worse things.

I push down on the handle, open the door, and step inside.

As soon as it clicks shut behind me, I hear her soft sniffles.

The little witch is crying in a heap on the floor, looking wretched and delicious.

I don’t normally care much for crying girls and their theatrics, but I love the tears on her cheeks. I love it even more when she flies to her feet and flares her wings, as if my mere presence threatens her.

I tsk. “You shouldn’t spread your wings in a plain act of defiance in front of a male who’s more powerful than you. It triggers his instinct to possess, dominate, and conquer.”

She tracks my every move.

Smart girl.

“Unless you want him to chase you like an animal and fuck your every hole while you scream and cry.”

“Fuck you, Daemon,” she bites out, sweet talking my cock.

It stirs in my jeans, straining against the denim.

The door opens behind me, and Ronan and Alaric step through with matching smirks and hellfire in their mischievous eyes. They stalk closer, their heavy footsteps slapping against the floor as their muscles shift, bulge, and strain inside their T-shirts.

“Don’t you just love her tears?” I ask them, leaning back against a desk and lighting a cigarette. “Dariana primed her for us.”

They take in her quivering breaths, flared wings, and the red mist slowly clouding her vision.

Blowing out a cloud of smoke, I shake my head. “Fight the darkness, little witch. Don’t let it consume you.”

It recedes slightly but then returns when I push off the desk. I walk over with slow steps and tower over her while smoking my cigarette, as if I have all the time in the world. I take my time studying her while the smoke curls in the air between us.

She’s breathing hard, provoked and uncertain, and her hands fist rhythmically at her sides.

Crushing the cigarette beneath my boot, I cup her chin and bring her brown eyes to mine. “We’ll give you a head start this time, but know this: we will catch you.” I lean in and brush my lips against her ear as I whisper, “Run.”

She doesn’t hesitate.

She doesn’t stop to gauge if I’m playing tricks on her or not.

She bolts, running for the door.

Taunting the slumbering monster inside me with her raven hair as it flies behind her.

“You let her get away,” Ronan says, turning back to me with a question in his eyes.

My head shakes no, and I dig my packet of cigarettes back out of my pocket, then bang it on my palm. I light one up, squinting at the others through the curling smoke. “I’m offering her the illusion that she can escape us.”

Ronan’s lips spread into a Cheshire Cat grin, and Alaric chuckles deeply, amused by the promise of a hunt in my eyes.

“How far do we take it when we catch her?” Alaric asks, snatching my cigarette off me and placing it between his lips.

I frown, annoyed with him for having the balls to steal it in the first place. If it were anyone else, I’d slaughter them for disrespecting me like that. “As far as it takes to split her open and spill her secrets.”

“What do we do about Dariana?” Ronan asks, checking his phone.

“She’ll dust herself off and come back stronger.”

I grow antsy, my knee jiggling with the urge to chase her.

Alaric is barely down to the filter when I blow out a breath and set off, unable to contain the restless energy.

“Let’s catch us a little rabbit.”

RONAN

I fucking love it when Daemon gets in this mood. It rarely happens that he gives in to his lesser nature and lets a girl toy with him like this. Because, let’s be realistic, while Daemon believes he’s toying with her by chasing her down like an animal, it’s the other way around. He’s allowing himself to lose control around her, something Daemon rarely does. In fact, I don’t think she’s aware that he’s entrusting her with his monster.

We leave the classroom, and Daemon stops for a brief second to scan the corridor, his mind turning over. Did she take a right or a left? Like a greyhound, he sniffs the air, then turns left, moving with determined but silent, lithe steps.

He’s a big guy, but tracking has always been his specialty.

We emerge into the large open lobby, and Daemon makes a beeline for the stairs.

“Don’t you think she escaped outside?”

“She’s hiding upstairs,” is his response.

I exchange a look with Alaric, who simply shrugs and follows him up the grand staircase. I follow behind too, but unlike them, I’m distracted by a group of girls descending the steps. They giggle as they pass us, and I offer them a wink.

“Hurry the fuck up!” Alaric growls, smacking the back of my head.

Daemon is already at the top, a man on a mission to divide and conquer—or maybe just conquer, in this case.

His attention is zeroed in on the new girl, and his hunger won’t be satiated until he has caught his prize. All the other beautiful girls here fade in comparison to the defiant angel with large-as-sin wings and a bratty attitude.

She’s the cure for his boredom and the festering disease inside him that’s slowly sucking the joy out of Daemon’s existence.

I can’t remember the last time I saw him so engaged.

That’s the sole reason I follow him upstairs instead of letting the girls in their tiny dresses entice me to cause a little mayhem.

Now I’m indulging in a different kind of mayhem.

The kind that starts with a ‘T,’ ends with an ‘E,’ and spells out ‘Trouble.’

Because that’s what the new girl is. Big fucking trouble that will see us strung up by our balls if we’re not careful.

We take a right at the top of the stairs, and I frown as we pass the large sculptures that line the hallway.

“There’s a reason I rarely visit the art wing,” I tell them while eyeing up a grotesque statue of an angel with a deer’s head. Soulless empty eyes follow me as an icy shiver runs down my back.

“Scared the statues will come alive and feed on your soul?” Alaric teases.

I do a double take at the next statue of a fallen angel with stumps for wings. “Not at all. I just don’t see how any of this”—I gesture around the empty hallway—“is considered art?”

“The artsy girls are unhinged,” Alaric agrees, “but they’re also damn good in bed.”

Daemon throws us a stern look over his shoulder, a silent command to shut up.

I hold my hands up placatingly.

We stop outside a shut door, and a slow smirk lifts Daemon’s lips as he pushes down on the handle, careful not to make it creak as it opens to a large open space. This used to be one of the dance studios before they moved that part of the section to the left wing. Now it’s used for carving sculptures. And like a scene out of my worst nightmare, the room is littered with them.

Countless stone sculptures with empty eye sockets and pulled-down smiles, sharp saber teeth and crooked claws, twisted limbs and silenced screams.

Daemon walks softly, avoiding the pieces of gritty rock on the floor. His footsteps can barely be heard over the breeze whipping through the sheer, black curtains.

The room is dark except for the beams of silvery moonlight on the floor. It’s barely enough light to see by, but that doesn’t stop Daemon as he stops and sniffs the air again.

His eyes zero in on one of the dark corners, where a bunch of crates are stacked hazardously. The smile that unfurls on his lips is villainous and sadistic and carries the promise of pain. “Found you, little witch,” he whispers darkly as he sets off toward her hiding place.

Alaric walks back to block off the only escape route—the door.

She’s trapped now, locked in this dark room with three tormentors hellbent on destroying her.

I sidestep another sculpture, baring my teeth at its face that resembles one of the gargoyles on the roof of this building. Who the fuck creates this shit?

“If you come out, I promise I won’t hurt you, little witch.” Daemon’s voice drips with insincerity and claps against the walls like a thunder strike. “I’ll take it easy on you.”

Amused, I press my lips together to stop myself from laughing. He’s taunting her for sport.

“I can hear your heartbeat, little witch. It races like that of a frightened rabbit in the presence of a fox.”

One more silent step closer. “But you weren’t lucky enough to attract the fox, sweetheart. No, you caught the attention of a pack of wolves instead. Hungry wolves.”

To frighten her and lure her out of her hiding spot, he kicks a nearby crate out of the way, and it collides with a sculpture. Broken pieces of wood lie scattered on the floor in its wake, but there’s no sign of the little witch.

Daemon stiffens as his eyes narrow.

And for one brief second, he stares at the darkness. It stares back with bated breath, waiting for the fragile silence to splinter.

Shooting his hand out, the crates erupt in an inferno of flames. Still, there’s no sign of the little witch. I look away from the burning destruction, and my gaze lands on the open windows. The dancing curtains.

Daemon’s eyes follow my line of vision, and his body turns measuredly, like an apex predator zeroing in on his prey.

This is the moment it dawns on me that Daemon will never stop. He’ll hunt her to the ends of the earth until he’s balls deep in her cunt and savagely claiming her.

She has caught the attention of his monster, and it’s now stretching its hind legs and shaking out its fur.

What I’m witnessing now is the birth of an obsession.

Walking over to the window, Daemon throws it open all the way and jumps up on the window ledge. He escapes into the night, briefly disturbing the beam of moonlight on the floor as his wings erupt.

Our little witch better run.

“Come on,” Alaric drawls near the entrance when I use my powers to put out the fire. The air is thick with smoke as I finally weave my way through the creepy sculptures that should be thrown off a cliff.

“Don’t you want to follow him?” I ask.

Don’t you want to be part of the hunt?

Alaric walks out with his hands in his pocket, his shoulders relaxed. “The hunt is more down Daemon’s alley. He loves that shit, and while I don’t mind it, my hunt looks different from his.”

I don’t even have to guess where we’re going. Alaric is an intellectual man who likes to try to understand things. He’ll leave the chasing to Daemon while he drags me along to the library to dig through every single aisle for any information he can find to shed light on the situation. Because, ultimately, I have more patience than Daemon and the two of them combined.

“Where are you two heading?” Dariana’s tall heels click on the marble flooring as she chases after us.

“Where did you come from?” I ask her, descending the grand staircase.

Pointing a finger in the direction of the left wing, she says, “Dance lesson, but it was canceled.”

“You dance?”

The look she gives me is anything but impressed.

“Since when?” Alaric asks, echoing my thoughts.

“I love that you pay so much attention to me. This friendship is so one-sided.”

“I don’t care for the animosity in your voice,” I drawl as we walk down the last few steps and set off in the direction of the library.

She ignores me, choosing instead to focus her attention on Alaric. “Where are we going? I sense a mission in the air.”

“We’re going to dig up some information on angels.”

“And timelines,” I add.

Dariana comes to a sudden stop, and Alaric’s frown matches mine as we turn to look at her.

“I think she’s telling the truth.”

I blink uncomprehendingly. “What?”

“I think she told us the truth yesterday.”

My eyebrows fly up.

It’s not like Dari to trust blindly, and the look in her eyes leaves no room for questions; she believes the angel’s story.

“What makes you say that?” Alaric asks carefully.

Dariana looks between us, seeming uncertain, but then she sets her jaw, her mind made up. “I could see it in her eyes.”

“You could see what in her eyes?”

Dari readjusts the bag on her shoulder. “The truth. She wasn’t lying.”

“So you’re saying she knew us in a different timeline?” Alaric sounds as skeptical as I feel, but unlike me, he’s considering the possibility of such a statement.

Me? I can’t wrap my mind around it.

“I don’t know what I believe,” Dariana concedes, “but she was scared of me.”

I snort. “Everyone is scared of you.”

“You don’t get it.” She follows after me when I set off walking. “She wasn’t scared of me like that. It was almost as if…”

I pull to a stop outside the library doors and blow out a tired sigh while Alaric studies her intently. “As if what?”

Dari hesitates. “As if she’s in love with me.”

This time I laugh, throwing open the library doors. “She can’t be in love with you; she doesn’t know you.”

“That’s exactly it. The way she looked at me… it was as if she knew me.”

“Let’s just see what we can find first,” Alaric breathes out, entering the library, and we follow behind.

“This notion of yours is crazy,” I tell Dari, keeping my voice low.

“Is it? Is it really? We all know Amenadiel is crazy. Would it really surprise you if he went to these far-reaching lengths to topple Lucifer?”

Alaric disappears down one of the aisles as I turn and rub a hand down my face. “Amenadiel is crazy. I’ll admit that, but he’s not crazy enough to chase the crown in more timelines than one.”

“That’s not what the little witch said, though.” Alaric’s voice drifts over to us.

After exchanging a look, we follow after him.

“What did she say then?” Dari inquires while Alaric pulls out a book.

Dissatisfied, he puts it back and continues perusing the spines. “She never actually said she found herself in a different timeline. She simply said she wants to believe it’s a different timeline, so the experience she had—the connection with each of us—is still out there, somewhere. What she did, in fact, say is that we don’t remember her anymore.”

“So?”

“So, what we’re looking at is time travel.”

“Time travel?” I huff a disbelieving laugh as I stare at his neck. “Do you hear yourself?”

Alaric straightens and turns around, leaning back against the shelf. “It’s no weirder than separate timelines. Instead of calling it time travel, since that would suggest the white-winged version of her is about to stroll down the hallways any day now, let’s think of it… Let’s say we go back ten minutes in time, right? Like a videotape that you rewind. You with me?”

“Not really,” I say at the same time Dari says, “Sure.”

“It’s like that. She rewound time, which in turn erased the events that occurred.”

“I’m so confused,” I admit.

“Why? If someone came along with a remote control and rewound time until we’re all back upstairs, setting fire to crates, did this conversation right now happen?”

“Duh. Yes.”

“No. Not to us, it wouldn’t have.”

“You need to get laid. Use that enormous brain of yours for better purposes than the vile act of thinking.” I throw my hands up. “Let’s just find the information we need and leave.

Dariana pats my shoulder as she walks past me to help Alaric hunt. “It’s okay, sweetie. It’ll all make sense to you soon enough.”