Touched by Death: (Sins of The Fallen book 3)

“Look at you, son. Pathetic and weak.”

My father’s words sound muted, drowned out by the loud ringing in my ears. I’ve long since lost feeling in my wrists. My eyes are almost swollen shut, and a roadmap of lashings covers my sore back. I’ve been deprived of blood to stop me from healing. But most of all, I’ve been starved of her.

“I’ve never been so disappointed,” he drawls, hands clasped behind his back as he circles me. “You’re weak. So fucking weak!”

The chains rattle overhead when my father stops in front of me and grips my chin. His eyes fly over my face, and he shoves me away as though I disgust him.

“All of this because of a girl.” The poison in his voice pricks like the thorns of a rose bush, its venom burning inside my veins. He walks over to the desk by the wall and peruses the selection of tools. With his back to me, he trails his fingers over a small vial with a bitter liquid that, when ingested, stops the victim from using their fire magic. I’ve been drip-fed it over the last week.

All it takes is a single drop to incapacitate you for days. When he picks it up, I begin to thrash.

“I hear it’s painful when it puts out the flames in your soul.” Walking up to me, he tosses the vial up in the air and catches it. “Have you learned your lesson?”

My head slumps; the fight has gone. I nod.

“Good.” Lucifer pockets the vial. “What is she?”

“She’s no one.” The words burn a path through my vocal cords.

“Why would she want someone as weak and pathetic as you?”

“I’m no one.”

“That’s right,” Lucifer agrees, looking down at me. “You’re an embarrassment of a son.” With a tip of his chin to the guard at the door, he orders him to release me.C0ntent © 2024 (N/ô)velDrama.Org.

Rough hands undo the chains around my wrists, causing me to collapse to the floor in a heap. Barely able to hold my head upright, my wings droop on the dirty, blood-caked ground.

As Lucifer walks up to me and yanks my head up with a tight grip on my hair, his muddy boots pin my feathers to the stone floor. If I weren’t so weak, I’d challenge him for the degrading act. But this is Lucifer, the most powerful angel around, and I just so happened to be born with the curse of being his heir.

“Disrespect me again, son, and I won’t take it so easy on you.”

His footsteps retreat, and I’m hauled to my feet by the guard, who drags me out of the dark room and into the brightly lit hallway. I squint against the light, my head pounding from the blows I’ve endured. Tossing me to the hard ground, he walks off without another word, leaving me to lick my wounds. I release a pained groan and roll over onto my back. Everything hurts. Even my bones fucking ache.

I eventually manage to climb to my feet and make my way to my room. Collapsing onto the bed, I black out.

“We need to fucking kill Lucifer,” Dariana snarls, waking me with her high-pitched voice as she paces the room. The mattress dips, and her soft fingers brush up against the bruising on my cheek. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

With my arms beneath my pillow, I burrow deeper, escaping her ghosting touch. “How did you know my father let me go?”

“A little bird sang. We left class as soon as we got word.”

“Great,” I mutter, too exhausted to say much else.

“You’re healing, but slowly.” The mattress shifts again and then she returns with a balm. “Shift onto your back.”

I do as she says, wincing at the throbbing pain. My ribs are on fire.

Unscrewing the lid and applying cream to a sore cut near my eyebrow, she keeps talking. I let the soothing tone of her voice dull some of the ache.

Ronan sits at the end of the bed, staring out at the blackness outside the window, his shoulders slumped. Alaric watches me from his spot near the door, where he leans against the wall.

“You had us so worried.” Dari’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I brush her off before slowly scooting up in bed, trying my damn hardest not to let on how much pain I’m in.

My pride hurts more than anything.

“I’m fine,” I reply. “My father felt the need to teach me a lesson, is all.”

“Is all?”

I don’t care much for the note of sympathy in her voice. Rubbing at my tired eyes, I ask, “What did I miss while I was otherwise occupied.”

“I hate how you make light of the situation,” she hisses, screwing the lid back on. With a sigh, she looks to Alaric, and I stiffen at the unspoken words flowing between them.

“What was that?”

“What do you mean?” Alaric asks, his eyes skating to mine.

“That look you shared just now.”

“There was no look.”

Narrowing my gaze, I move to leave the bed, but Dari stops me with a hand on my shoulder. “We kept an eye on her while you were gone.”

Relief washes over me, and I sink back against the pillows. “The stalker?”

“Hasn’t made an appearance.”

“That’s good.”

Ronan speaks up, his eyes finding mine over his shoulder. “Dmitriy has been all over her, and she won’t talk to us.”

As my heart clenches in my chest, I look away and grit my teeth. “He’ll keep her safe.”

A thick and heavy silence descends on the room. So heavy, in fact, it’s suffocating.

Dariana coughs, or maybe she scoffs. “Excuse me? Did I hear you right? Did you say Dmitriy will keep her safe?”

At my shoulder shrug, her jaw drops. She jumps to her feet. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Dari,” Alaric says, a note of warning in his voice.

She shoots him a glare to end all glares, then pins me with her probing gaze. “Dmitriy will keep her safe?”

My jaw pulses. “That’s what I said.”

She blinks at me, then seems to shake her head as if to clear it of thoughts. “What the hell happened to you down there in the cellar? The Daemon I know would never let Dmitriy win.”

“Win? Dari…” I throw my hands out. “Look at me. With a click of his fingers, my father had me thrown into one of his cellars downstairs and tortured by his guards for God knows how fucking long. I can’t keep her safe.”

She stares at me some more, her brown eyes flying over my face, before storming over to the door and yanking it open. Alaric looks over at me as she strides out and slams it shut, but no sooner has she left than she barges right back in and points an accusing finger at me.

“You, Daemon, forget one very important thing. You’re not the only one who’s in love with the angel. We all are. So fuck you if you think I’ll let Dmitriy sink his claws into her just because your father had your fucking balls removed.”

Laughing mockingly, I slide my feet out from beneath the blanket and stand up. Firelight flickers on the wall, and a wicker basket with logs sits propped up against the fireplace—for show, more than anything. Killing the distance between us, I tower over her. Even now, I can’t stop the urge to flex my authority. “You soon changed your tune.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she glares up at me with enough attitude to induce an eye twitch.

“You didn’t want anything to do with her.”

“I didn’t trust her, Daemon.”

Shaking my head, I shoulder past her on my way to the drawers. Candles line the top. Hanging off one in the middle is a pair of lace panties.

Aurelia’s panties.

My heart twinges. I yank the top drawer open and pull out clean clothes. After placing them at the foot of the bed, I make a beeline for the bathroom. Dari dashes in front of me before I can escape inside.

“What if he fucks her?”

Staring off to the side, I grind my teeth so hard, I’m bound to induce a headache.

“She’ll have his scent all over her.”

I count to ten in my head, but she keeps aiming those bullets at my heart like a skilled assassin.

“She’ll come on his cock and moan his name.”

With my hands on her shoulders, I shift her out of the way and barge past her.

“I can’t believe you’re not gonna get her back,” she shouts through the door, slamming her small palm against it.

“You’re no one.”

“You’re weak. You’re so fucking weak!”

My father’s voice taunts me as I turn on the shower and strip out of my ruined, blood-stained clothes. Steam fills the room, fogging my reflection in the mirror in front of me. Dari continues banging on the door and shouting profanities at me. For a girl who couldn’t stand the little angel a few weeks ago, she certainly changed her mind.

Stepping into the shower and bracing my hand on the tiled wall, I hang my head. Water pours from my nose in a steady stream as I scrub at my neck. The thought of Aurelia and Dmitriy won’t leave my fucking mind. By the time I reach for the soap, I’m assaulted by images of him fucking her. Cursing Dari for putting those thoughts in my head, I lather up and scrub my hair vigorously. Nothing short of violence can save me now.

What about the stalker? Dari said there had been no sighting, but why would the stalker give up? Unless they’re biding their time, watching her silently from the shadows.

Anger quickens my blood. I toss the soap at the wall, watching it bounce to the shower floor and settle near the drain. The thought of a stalker that’s obsessed with the angel, my angel, pisses me the fuck off. Does he imagine himself touching her? Hurting her? What the fuck does he want with her?

“You think she wants a male angel as weak and pathetic as you? Look at you, son. Strung up like a weakling with your wings tied behind your back.”

The memory slams into me with such vicious intensity that I stumble back and grab my head.

“You think she wants a male angel as weak and pathetic as you?”

“Fuck you,” I snarl, breathing harshly. “Get out of my fucking head.”

As my heart rate begins to settle back into a healthy rhythm, I shut the water off. I step out of the shower and reach for one of the towels on the towel rack. After scrubbing my hair and body, I exit the bathroom and get dressed. Ronan is where I left him, seated at the end of my bed with his phone in his hand. Dari stops her pacing when the door clicks shut behind me.

Alaric toys with a yoyo—a red one this time. Up and down, it slides. “Dari has a point.”

“About what?” I feign confusion, walking over to the mirror that’s mounted to my door. My hair stands in all directions. While I attempt to wrangle it into submission by running my fingers through it, Alaric pockets his yoyo and says, “We’re all in love with her.”

I scoff, not even sparing him a glance as I straighten up.

“I mean it, Daemon.” His voice drops, becoming more serious. “I’m not letting her go.”

“Neither am I,” Ronan mutters, typing out a text on his phone before looking up at me. “I don’t care that you’re the one in charge. Aurelia is ours, not Dmitriy’s.”

At his admission, my shoulders slump. My father’s words come back to taunt me, but I force them back down. “She knows about the betrothal. Did you not see the look in her eyes? Because I sure as fuck did. She won’t take us back.”

Releasing a disgusted sound, Dari opens her mouth to retort, but Ronan shoots her a look, then rises to his feet. His tall build rivals mine, but his eyes are softer. “What happened down there, Daemon?”

Steeling my jaw, I block the memories that threaten to bubble to the surface.

“This isn’t you, man. The Daemon I know doesn’t take no for an answer.” His hand comes down on my shoulder. I try to shrug him off, but he tightens his grip and jostles me. “The Daemon I know—my friend—would make her submit. What is it you always say? This is Hell. We take what we want, remember?”

“Well, I don’t want her.”

His fingers twitch on my shoulder, and he releases a surprised laugh, which soon deepens until it grates on my damn nerves. “You can lie to yourself all you fucking want, but I see right through you.” Dropping his hand, he gestures to the others. “We see right through you.” His eyes soften, forcing me to avert my gaze. “Beneath that hard exterior hides the real you, Daemon. You’re crazy about this girl. Maybe you don’t like it, but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s got you by your balls.”

“Maybe it’s not about me.” Meeting his gaze, I shrug. “My father proved one thing this week.”

“Yeah? What’s that? Besides the fact that he’s a psychopath.”

I wet my lips and shove my hands in my pockets to stop myself from fidgeting. “I can’t protect her. I’m weak.” With another shrug of my shoulders, I try to sidestep him, but he’s faster, his brows furrowing.

“What are you saying, Daemon?”

A headache is forming. “How long did my father keep me locked down there, stealing my powers and ordering his guard to torture me?”

When Ronan stays silent, I continue, “Aurelia could have been attacked in that time. The stalker could have gotten to her. Where was I to protect her? To keep her safe?”

“We’re a team,” he says, the confusion in his eyes clearing. “You can’t keep her safe by yourself. Fuck that! She’s ours, and we protect her together.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” I’m over this conversation. “My future is not in my hands. I have no fucking control over it.” Gesturing to Dariana, I say to Ronan, “It won’t be long until I marry Dari, and what then? What happens to the little angel when I have a wife? Is she going to stand on the sidelines and watch us get married?”

“Ronan and I will look after her,” Alaric speaks up, his lips twitching, but I can’t see the funny side of it. Not now.

With a shake of my head, I leave the room. “It’s over.”

They follow me into the hallway, and Dari’s voice stops me in my tracks. “I never took you for a scaredy-cat, Daemon. I must say I’m disappointed.”

Without looking back, I continue down the hallway, shoulders tense. My slumped wings drag over the floor, collecting dust and debris, but I barely notice. I know my friends want me to fight for the little witch. I was going to tell her about my father’s plans. But every time I had her to myself, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’m not marrying Dari. I refuse to let my father dictate my future like that. But sometimes, like today, I don’t see another way out.