Page 92 of Guardian Angel
I swallowed, forgetting to be careful of my abused neck.
“But we have more pressing matters to talk about.” Dantalion’s smile slipped away, and he pinned me with an expression of such hatred I was surprised the look alone didn’t kill me. “How much did you tell your angel about the night you killed my son?”
“I told him everything.” Not that I’d had that much to tell. My information had been too limited to be useful.
Dantalion cursed. His hand lifted from my stomach, and the next second his palm connected with my bruised neck, pinning me to the wall.
Pain exploded through my throat. I met his eyes and knew without a shadow of a doubt that I wasn’t ever walking out of this warehouse. By the end of this sick game Dantalion was playing, I’d be dead.
“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” I gasped out.
He shook his head. “It is not your death I seek. It is your pain.”
The bitter tang of panic exploded at the back of my throat.
I’d been resigned to the idea that I would die. Between learning about the Nephilim law and the demon who had lured me onto a plane, it had only seemed like a matter of time. But there was a difference between knowing you’d be willing to die for someone you loved and the very real possibility that you were going to be tortured.
Dantalion smiled, drinking in my dread and fear. “Besides, killing you now would ruin my plans for your angel. He’d die too, and I wouldn’t get to see the moment he realized he’d failed to protect you.”
“What are you talking about?”
He laughed at my confusion. “No one told you?” He shook his head. “Angels are such arrogant idiots.”
“Told me what?” I was just desperate enough for answers to not care that he was enjoying this.
“That guardian-angel bond connects you. Your little angel’s life is tied to yours. You die, he dies. So you see, I can’t exactly kill you yet.” Dantalion’s fingers grasped my chin, digging in unnecessarily hard as he forced me to look up at him.
His eyes raked over my body, examining me from head to toe.
My gut churned with disgust, though I was pretty secure in the idea that he didn’t want to touch me like that.
When his eyes returned to mine, I knew we were done talking.
For half a second I stayed still. If I died, I’d take Nate with me. But if I didn’t fight, we’d both end up dying anyway.
I jerked out of Dantalion’s grasp, using my whole body to push his arm away and twisting to get out from my place between him and the wall.
I didn’t make it far.
Dantalion moved fast. One second there was a couple of feet of space between us, and the next his arm was snaking around my waist, pulling me back against his chest.
Another demon approached me. He looked more like the ones Dantalion usually sent to attack me—sunburn-colored skin, pointed ears, sharp-looking horns coming out of his forehead. Dantalion let go of me, and the other demon shoved me to the ground. All the air was knocked from my lungs as I hit the cement floor, but I managed to keep from banging my head. Nate had been right about the falling lessons being useful.
Hands pushed me onto my back, and the lesser demon climbed on top of me. He caught my wrists in his hands and dragged them above my head.
I’d been in this position many times before, but never with someone I didn’t trust. I’d never realized how truly vulnerable it was. I felt exposed and helpless.
I twisted, trying to throw him off, but it was useless. He was too heavy.
Over the demon grunt’s shoulder, I saw Dantalion looking down at me.
“Fighting is useless, sweetheart. But it does make this all the more entertaining.” He stalked around me, out of my line of vision.
I tilted my head back, trying to see what he was doing.
There was a click that sounded loud in the emptiness of the warehouse, and I felt cold metal against my wrists, securing my hands to the floor.
The demon pulled back, and I tested out the cuffs on my wrists. I could move my hands a grand total of an inch off the floor.