He was turning, she thought with dread. From immortal to demon.
“Win,” he growled now, and there was another voice fused to his. One that was guttural, raw. Determined.
Shit. She knew that determination. No longer would he pull his punches or deflect Micah’s. Now he would fight to win.
He closed the distance and threw his meaty clubs around, a jackhammer of lethal purpose. Not once did he miss. Micah weakened further, wobbling on his feet, his eyes beginning to swell shut as his head whipped left then right, alternating as Defeat switched fists.
The fact that Micah had lasted this long was astonishing, proof of his own determination, but he wouldn’t last much longer. He couldn’t. Not at the rate Defeat was delivering blows, and not with the already ravaged condition of his body.
She had to risk hurting Micah, she decided. There was no other way. Which meant she had to put herself in front of him, probably take a few blows before she was able to strike. No problem there.
Better she die than him, even though he was now tainted. He was tainted, yes, but he wasn’t evil. That kiss … no, he wasn’t evil. And if she was killed this day, she would come back; she would remember him. Not the kiss, that had been too good, and all her favorite things were always wiped, but this fight. She would recall the blood, her fear … her despair. But if Micah died, he would be gone forever.
Haidee stiffened, preparing to jump, waiting for the perfect moment. A thought suddenly hit her and she hesitated. If Micah turned his sights on her or even struck her accidentally … Oh, God. If she died, she wouldn’t remember why he’d done so when she awakened, only that he had—and she would come back to kill him just as she planned to come back and kill the others. If he survived this, they would be enemies.
Defeat landed a particularly vicious blow to Micah’s side, causing him to wheeze.
Worth the risk, she decided in the next instant. He was teetering … falling …
At last Haidee jumped forward, hooked her arm around Micah’s waist and threw him with all her might. I’m sorry, baby. As he stumbled to his knees—away from the action—she used her momentum to spin and duck, swinging her right fist at Defeat’s groin. Contact. He doubled over, oxygen bursting from his bleeding lips. She used her other hand, the one clutching the fragment of glass, to slice across his stomach. No mercy.
As she straightened, she landed a hard right to his chin. His head jerked backward, and he grunted, blood and teeth spewing. She aimed the glass at his throat, but only managed to slash his shoulder as he pivoted.
His narrowed gaze landed on her. He could have hit her just then. He didn’t.
Firm hands suddenly gripped her waist from behind and tossed her. Through the air she soared, flailing for an anchor, wondering what the hell had just happened. The makeshift weapon flew from her clasp, then she was bouncing on the bed, realization setting in. Micah was aware enough to know who she was, aware enough to want her out of harm’s way. Sweet of him, but that wasn’t going to stop her. He’d done his part. Now she would do hers.
Before the bouncing stopped, she was throwing her legs over the side of the bed and straightening, once again intending to knock Micah out of way. Only, she saw that he had somehow tackled Defeat and now straddled the warrior’s prone body, punching … punching …
Between whaling fists, Defeat groaned and babbled.
“Lost … lost … no, gods, no … lost …”
For several moments, she could only blink, watch. Micah had done it. Despite his injuries, he’d won. Against an immortal. That’s my man.
Seriously? You’re going to victory lap now? Haidee forced herself into motion and rushed to Micah. She latched onto his surging elbow. He could have shrugged her away, batted her off, could have swung at her with his other arm, but he didn’t. He faced her. What she could see of his glowing red eyes locked on her, tormented, agonized.
Didn’t want to hurt him … couldn’t stop … couldn’t let him hurt you…. Why couldn’t I let him hurt you?
The words echoed in her mind. Didn’t want to hurt him. Why couldn’t I let him hurt you? Courtesy of the demon? Was the demon trying to convince him that he liked the Lords? Didn’t matter, she supposed. They’d deal with it. Later. Along with everything else.
“Come on. We don’t want to free his demon right now.” She tugged him to his feet, and God, he was heavy. “We have to leave before the others come.” They’d be pissed when they saw what had been done to their friend. She didn’t want Micah punished for that. And they would punish him. She had no doubt. Even though he was currently part of their group.
She ushered him to the doorway but had to pause there to wind her arm around his waist. He was stumbling, barely able to remain standing on his own.
“You can do this, baby. Come on.”
Where are … we … going?
“If we’re lucky, no one will be around and we’ll find a way outside.” Dragging him through the doorway left her shaking and ice-sweating. He was bleeding all over her, giving her more and more of his massive weight. How she maintained her grip, she didn’t know. What she did know after taking two steps to the right?
They weren’t lucky.
Her eyes widened as she stumbled to a halt, Micah moaning, nearly falling. She held tight. They were surrounded—but not by the demons she’d expected. Robed warriors filled the entire enclosure, wings of white and gold outstretched. Scowls lined every single one of their faces, but even still those faces were glorious, radiant. So beautiful … so majestic … dazzling her. She couldn’t look away. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t look away. Exquisite.
Angels. These men were angels.
Maybe she and Micah were lucky. Maybe Galen had sent reinforcements to rescue them.
“Help us,” she beseeched. “The demons captured us, and we’re trying to escape.”
A lovely dark-haired male stepped forward, hard gaze pinning her in place more forcefully than any of the others.
“We were told to wait out here.” His voice was just as thrilling as his face. A sensual breeze, an exotic caress. “We did so. We were told not to interfere with what happened inside the room. We did not. But now you have come to us. Now we interfere.”
Realization cut like a knife. The angels hadn’t been sent by Galen. They were helping the demons. Horror barely registered before Micah was ripped from her grip. She’d never seen the angels move, had been too riveted by the one in front of her, but losing her man snapped her from that lost, dreamy haze.
With a scream of outrage, she kicked the angel in the chest. He stumbled backward only a few steps. She spun, reaching for Micah. Her voice must have snapped him out of his pained, weakened stupor, because, as two angels dragged him down the hall, farther and farther away from her, he blinked open his swollen eyes.
When he spied the distance between them, he roared. Loud and long and ragged, but only she seemed to hear him. No one else paid him any attention, no one else cringed. As she elbowed her
