Jegudiel (Deadly Virtues 2)

The ground was hard and rough beneath his body, but he relished the feel against his skin. He carefully moved his legs away from his torso. They stretched, and he moaned at the ache—as if he hadn’t stretched in years, as if he’d been stuffed into a box, chained shut, with no one returning to free him.

He paused. He searched for the monster’s presence inside him, the ghost that was an eternal shadow behind him, a constant dark whisperer in his ears. But there was nothing.

No, that wasn’t true. He felt its presence, its soul existing, surviving, at peace. But it was no longer separate to his.

It was him.

Diel’s chest suddenly felt light, without the constant burden of being split into two severed parts.

It had always been him. Them. Both. Conjoined twin souls occupying one body. Brothers in arms at the beginning, enemies for a time … now one complete force of nature.

Diel sat up, breathless with excitement, feeling as though he’d just been reconditioned as a man, upgraded, repaired … finally found after years lost in an abyss. Like an automatic download from the ether, memories from both monster and man filled his head. But they were no longer separate memories, of two distinct personalities swapping back and forth like the constant flicking of a switch. He realized that the memories and experiences had been made and lived by them both. And the memories rained down on him like blanket bombs. He felt rage and fury and disgust and pain as he recalled being under the Brethren’s control as a child. He felt happiness and freedom from the nights the collar was turned off and he made the kills.

And he felt the fatefulness of both the Fallen’s kinship and brotherhood and meeting the Coven and—

Noa.

He stilled, heat swelling his muscles, and he slowly rolled his neck. No collar. No motherfucking collar to inhibit his movements. Because of her. Because of—

Noa.

He recalled long pink hair and a palm touching his cheek, warmth shining in brown eyes. He felt her soft-skinned throat under his hand as he lifted her against the wall. And he felt the heavy attraction to her that blazed inside of him. He remembered seeing the sinful side of her too. The darkness that swirled in her pupils, like a mating call to the wicked that lived in him. His pulse raced faster and faster, a song building to a dramatic, drum-crashing climax.

Hello, pretty monster …

That voice. That fucking sweet, addictive voice calling to him, accepting all parts of him. He could smell her as if she were right before him. Lavender and sweet musk. Skin as soft as silk, hair a soft pink veil.

She had freed man and monster from their mutual prisons. She had reunited them, made him see that that they were never different entities. Instead, they had been one soul cleaved apart by the fucked-up men in red dog collars.

Because of her, they were finally whole.

Turning where he sat, Diel spotted Noa still standing near the fire. Energy surged through his body. He jumped to his feet and swung to face her. Sweat dripped from his body, droplets trickling down his taut chest, over the Brethren brand that connected them both. His breathing was quick, and his cock jerked in his jeans at just the sight of her standing before him like an offering.

She was fucking beautiful.

Diel’s feet were anchored to the ground. Noa watched him closely, then after raking her eyes up and down his body, she met his gaze once again. A smile formed on her full red lips. “Welcome back, pretty monster.” Her smile grew wider.

Her pretty monster. He was her fucking pretty monster.

That was all it took for Diel to charge. He rushed across the room, the new weightless feeling inside him making it akin to flying. In seconds he had Noa in his arms and pressed, once again, against the folly’s jagged wall. But this time it wasn’t to kill her or wrap his hand around her throat. There was no murderous intent within him anymore, at least not toward her.

Noa’s warmth breath fanned across his face. He closed his eyes and breathed in her intoxicating scent. As he opened them, it was like seeing her face for the first time. And it was as stunning as a church’s stained-glass window. Every part of her was complex and enslaving.

Noa’s eyes weren’t simply brown. They were ochre, the color of a fall leaf on a low-hanging branch, clutching on to its final days of life. Her skin was milky white, as if she’d been carved from marble. A batch of freckles were scattered across her nose like spilled cinnamon on a baker’s countertop. And her hair … Diel moved his head closer and pressed the soft strands against his cheek. Vibrant. She looked celestial, like she was not of this world.