Page 113 of Trust the Fall

“She’s fine, Lucifer. She’s a better fighter than all of us,” Zeke says from my side. “Don’t let her see your concern. She’s liable to fight you.”

I snicker, because he isn’t wrong. My girl is fierce and proud.

Stalking back toward the fight, feeling rejuvenated, I take out three low demons as I go, not so much as sparing them a glance as my blade tears through tendons.

I need to get to her. Not to protect, but to bask in the energy she brings.

My head lifts and my breath hitches. My heart stumbles and I damn near drop my blade and run to her.

Victoria.

She’s across the room, her sword in hand, slicing through a vampire’s chest, kicking out and slamming the blade in further. When he falls, she steps on his shoulder, pulling the sword from the demon in time for cleanup to occur.

She is fantastic.

The black leather clings to her body in a way that almost makes my primal need to throw her over my shoulders and drag her out of here take over.

I begin to clear a path of demons, making my way to her side. Her gaze lifts and our eyes connect. The hunger radiates out across the room, and I’ll be damned if I allow her to leave my side ever again.

She’s the oxygen I breathe. The light that shines even in the darkness of this place. My soul’s counterpart. My entire reason for existing. There is no doubt that she owns my heart.

The next war fought will be against Heaven if they decide to take her away.

I shouldn’t think those thoughts so soon after God’s help, but I can’t lie. I will go to war for her. She will be my queen.

My heart thumps loudly as I continue my trek toward her. The grin she wears tells me she sees just how much I want her. Even in the middle of a battle, my need for her can’t be eclipsed.

Victoria’s beautiful smile morphs into something like terror and my eyes narrow in response. Her hand shoots out, pointing at something or someone behind me.

My back bends just in time for a large battle ax to sail across the air where my head had just been. I fall to my knees, twisting my sword around to swipe at the feet of my assailant. He jumps, escaping my attack.

I look up into Bumalin’s wolfish face and rage takes over.

This Judas won’t meet his end by my sword or magic. No, I’ll make him suffer for his treachery.

My arm raises, sword in hand, just in time to thwart another blow from Bumalin’s ax. Even on my knees at a disadvantage, I’m able to push back while standing to my feet.

“Let’s make this fight fair, Bumalin,” I growl.

He throws back his head and howls, calling upon his nearby wolf-demons to join his side.

“Fucking coward. Need your lackeys to defeat one man?” I laugh arrogantly. “You’d never make it on the throne of Hell.”

He bares his pointed yellow teeth and I laugh in his face. He doesn’t scare me. There are worse things hidden in the bowels of Hell. If anything, this wolf’s appearance looks like a stage prop from a human horror flick.

Pathetic.

Our weapons clash against each other, and sparks fly at the friction caused. The weight of the sword grows heavier with every hard knock against Bumalin’s ax. That doesn’t matter, though. I’ve fought in longer, harder battles and have always come out on top. This time won’t be any different. It can’t be. There’s too much at stake.

I jab into his thick side, driving my elbow deep into his ribs. He howls in pain and is momentarily distracted. I use the second to kick my leg out and trip him.

He falls backward, and to ensure he hits the ground, I sail my foot into his stomach.

The thud of his head hitting the rock-hard ground is sickening.

I’m raising my sword above my head to end his life when my eyes catch on the sight of Nolda and a small entourage heading off toward the throne room.

Shit.