Touched by Darkness: (Sins of The Fallen Book 2)
Touched by Darkness: Chapter 18

“You’re a hard man to track down.”

Daemon looks over at us from his spot on the bed, where he sits with his eyes trained on the bathroom door like some crazy stalker. It doesn’t take a mastermind to figure out who’s in the bathroom.

Dariana rushes into the room, unbothered by the scene that greets us, and fawns over him. He merely tolerates it because he knows he has no other choice. Daemon has done a lot of stupid shit in his life, but this is the first time he has been stabbed.

“I told you we couldn’t trust her,” Dariana says tersely, inspecting his shoulder. The wound has healed.

Alaric steps in last, his eyes widening when he sees the carnage on the floor and walls. “What the fuck?”

Dariana looks up and stiffens, as though she were too focused on Daemon to see the state of the room.

“Seems we missed quite a party,” I quip, shutting the door after Alaric.

“The angel did this?” Dari asks.

Daemon nods, his elbows on his knees, his eyes still on the bathroom door.

Alaric steps over the torso and carefully begins to lower himself on the armchair, but then he changes his mind and chooses instead to stand up with arms crossed and feet planted. “Mind explaining to us what happened?”

A muscle tics in Daemon’s jaw as he drags his eyes away from the door when the shower switches off. “Someone broke into the room and stabbed me.”

Dariana snorts, Alaric looks skeptical, and I shift on my feet, not knowing what to believe.

“What do you mean, someone broke into the room?”

“She has a stalker.” Daemon looks at Dariana. “She told you once that someone chased her in the library.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think it was serious.”

“Well, considering I nearly died from rapid blood loss last night, I think it’s safe to say it’s serious,” Daemon drawls, looking back at the door.

We all exchange a look.

Dariana breaks the silence. “Has it occurred to you that she might have been behind it and that it could have been part of an elaborate plan between her and Amenadiel?”

“Of course it has,” Daemon replies, cutting her a glare.

“I think we need to discuss that.” Alaric gestures at the scattered body parts around the room.

“That’s the least of our problems if the angel works with Amenadiel,” Dariana says.

Alaric looks over at her and shakes his head as if he thinks she’s naive. “She’s losing control over the darkness. See that body on the floor?” He points at it again. “It could have been Daemon.”

Now Daemon snorts amusedly. “You don’t think I could handle her?”

“Were you in any shape to handle her last night?” Alaric barks.

I have to admit, it’s a good point. Daemon was weakening rapidly and was in no shape to defend himself. It’s lucky the angel got him help in time, or it wouldn’t have ended well.

“So we need to treat it as a murder attempt on the heir,” I tell them, but Daemon shakes his head.

“I don’t think they were after me. Whoever it was, stalks the little witch, not me.”

“Yet you’re the one who was stabbed, and she’s not.”

The look he gives me is anything but impressed, but then his attention gets diverted, like a rubber band that snaps back into place, when the angel enters the bedroom.

I have to admit, I’m staring, too. It’s impossible not to when the wet strands of her hair soak the straps of her dress that stretch tight around her tits. Her widened brown eyes look between us uncertainly.

Dariana is up on her feet and crossing her arms as she leers at the little witch. “Just admit that you’re working with Amenadiel.”

“Dari.” There’s an edge to Daemon’s voice, and Dariana stiffens slightly—the only sign she heard him.

However, she doesn’t back down, and her glower intensifies as if she wants to drill holes through the angel. “I don’t buy this bullshit you’re trying to sell.”

“Dari!” Daemon barks, shooting to his feet as his wings erupt behind him in a display of power. His eyes darken, swirling with the threat of violence, and Dariana reluctantly backs down.

“We can’t trust her,” she bites out, then throws one last lingering glare at the angel, who stands in the doorway like a deer caught in headlights.

The weight of Daemon’s scowl could incinerate a man on the spot, but Dari stands her ground, used to his anger. “I’m asking you to be careful.”

Before he can reply, and before anyone of us can say a thing, the little witch speaks up. “I’m not working with Amenadiel.”

“Care to explain this?” Alaric gestures around the room again.

Her throat jumps. “I…uh…I lost control.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Dari sneers, and this time when Daemon directs his scowl at her, she visibly shrinks back.

I pick up a piece of what looks to be a part of a leg and inspect it in the sunlight that streams through the window. “What can you remember from last night?”

By the sheer state of the room, my guess is not a lot, and she confirms as much when she tucks her damp hair behind her ear and wets her lips nervously.

“I don’t remember anything.”

“Nothing?”

A quick shake of her head. “I remember bringing the girl in here, and I remember Daemon on the bed…” She points at it. “He was bleeding profusely. I remember being scared.”

“What were you scared of?” Alaric asks, an intense look in his eyes, which is mirrored in Daemon’s as he tracks her movements.

“Myself, mainly… and Daemon dying.”

Seated on the bed, Dariana releases a soft, humorless laugh that tethers on a snort. It’s the kind of laugh that tells us she thinks the little witch is full of bullshit.

The angel ignores her. “I was scared I would hurt him.”

“Would you?” I ask, point blank, tossing the piece of the leg back down, and she meets my gaze.

Her eyes are uncertain and rimmed with tears, but then she grits her teeth and looks away. “You should take him home now that he’s healed.”

Daemon is up on his feet in an instant, faster than the eye can catch—a flurry of movement. “You’re coming with us.”

She slowly looks at him and crosses her arms to create a barrier between them as he steps over body parts to get to her. It could be poetic under different circumstances if it weren’t for the fact that Daemon looks as if he’s ready to choke her to death.

“You think I’ll leave you here when there’s a stalker on the loose?”

“My stalker is not your problem.”

No sooner have the words left her mouth, he grabs her by the throat. “Your stalker stabbed me, little witch. So yes, he is my problem, and now so are you.”

She bares her teeth. “Let go of me, Daemon.”

I watch their exchange closely, the way Daemon asserts himself over her. More importantly, his obsession with her. The stalker is an excuse. He wouldn’t let her leave, regardless. Not now that he has his eyes set on her.

Across the room, Alaric raises his eyebrows, as if to say do something, and I smirk back.

Dariana throws her arms up, interrupting their stare-down. “Can we just leave already?”

The little witch shoves Daemon off and tries to shoulder past, determined to walk away, but he grabs her hair and pulls her back.

My lips kick up in a smile at her futile struggle. She should stop fighting unless it’s her wish to catch his attention. If she were a pliant field mouse, Daemon would get bored within a day, so when she turns around and knees him in the balls, I can’t help but laugh.

She’s no field mouse.

She’s something much fiercer.

And it’s like crack cocaine to Daemon, who straightens up with thunder in his eyes and fisted hands at his sides. “You dare knee me in the fucking balls, little angel?”

She winces at the nickname, and I exchange another look with Alaric. She doesn’t like to be called “little angel.”

No, that’s not true.

It hurts her to be called that.

Very interesting.

“What are we gonna do about the mess in here?” I ask.

Daemon doesn’t look away from the defiant angel as he says, “Leave it. I’ll have someone clean it up.”

“Then let’s go,” Dariana barks, shouldering past me, her heels clicking on the creaky floorboards.

The angel glares at Daemon with her arms crossed over her chest for a brief second longer, then sets off walking. She’s barely made it more than two steps when Daemon picks her up as though she weighs nothing and hauls her over his shoulder. His hand comes down on her ass, making her yelp. “Stop defying me.”

As they walk out, Alaric sidles up next to me. “He’s too blinded by pussy. We need to keep an eye on her.”

“You on the same wavelength as Dari?”

“I don’t know… But I won’t allow us to be blindsided. Daemon nearly got himself killed.”

His words hang in the air—sickly, dark, and ominous.

The truth is, we know nothing about this girl.

And Daemon?

He’s thinking with his dick.

Alaric claps my shoulder, then walks out.

DARIANA

Daemon took the girl back to his place. She’s currently seated on the couch in the living room, right at the edge, as if she’s preparing to flee any second. The boys are spread out, watching her like a juicy meal or a puzzle to figure out. Maybe the mystery is what makes her so alluring.

I’m not so easily fooled. She charmed me at the beginning, but then Daemon was stabbed, and now I don’t trust her.

Though, I can’t stop staring.

So this is what the enemy looks like? Masquerading with dark wavy hair that cascades down her back, big doe eyes that scan the room’s occupants uncertainly, and the softest looking lips you’ve ever seen.

Soft, pillowy lips you can’t help imagining biting into and a hot mouth you want to fill up with your fingers.

If only to make her gag and choke.

My tongue slides over my freshly applied lipstick while I imagine myself dirtying her up a bit.

The thing about this girl is that she has an aura of innocence about her, but it’s a cruel, wicked deception. Especially after I’ve seen the evidence of the monster that resides behind those dark eyes. She’s the most dangerous predator. A carnivorous plant you should stay away from.

It makes sense why Amenadiel would utilize a girl like this angel. She’s deadly but embodies innocence and purity as though it’s a part of her, some forgotten artifact hidden deep within the corners of her soul.

And you ache to step into her shadows and wander deeper and deeper to discover her secrets and dust off their corners. But it’s a trap.

In order to dismantle it, we first need to figure out just how involved she is with Daemon’s uncle and how far he has dug his claws into her smooth skin. And there’s no better way to destroy an enemy than to entrap it.

With that thought in mind, I soften my glare, rise from my seat, and slowly walk up to her. She looks so innocent, so wary, and so fucking unsure that it calls to something inside me.

“Don’t break me further unless you’re willing to pick up the pieces.”

That’s exactly what I want to do. Break her into countless fragmented pieces and scatter them on the wind.

There will be no redemption.

“Dari…” There’s a warning in Daemon’s voice when I walk around the back of the couch and glide a single finger over her shoulders, from her left to her right.

I ignore him, far too entranced by the goosebumps erupting in the wake of my touch.

Grabbing a handful of her hair, I yank it and force her to expose the tanned column of her neck to the men in the room.

Unable to resist the pull to get lost in her, I lean down and breathe in the stench of deception and the far more dangerous scent of vanilla beans and morning mist.

She visibly shivers and attempts to turn her face in my direction, but I tighten my grip on her hair to keep her frozen while I drag my nose over the slender curve. “I can smell your secrets.”

“I don’t have any.”

I pull harder and sharper, forcing her to crane her neck at an awkward angle. “Bullshit!”

“I’m not lying.”

My chuckle is cruel, lacking warmth. “We’ll see about that.” I move around the couch and slow to a stop in front of her as my eyes slide down her body. “If you have nothing to hide, then take your clothes off.”

“Wha-at?”

“Strip.”

Her throat jumps, and she looks to the others for help, but her gaze soon returns to me when I snap my fingers.

“They won’t help you.”

Behind me, Daemon chuckles behind his closed fist, his elbow on the armrest. My own lips twitch in response.

“What’s it going to be? Do you admit to working with Amenadiel?”

“I’m not working with him. Besides, how will I prove anything by removing my clothes?”

When I stay silent with my arms crossed over my chest, her cheeks stain pink. She rips her dress off and tosses it on the floor.

The room holds its breath.

My eyes cut to Daemon for a brief second, then flick back to the angel as she lifts her hips off the couch to remove her panties.

Her defiant, fiery eyes hold mine the entire time, refusing to look away even for the briefest of seconds. Leaning forward, she holds her panties up in the air and treats me to a dark smile that’s anything but innocent. “Happy now?”

The silk panties fall on top of her discarded dress on the floor.

A million thoughts swirl in my head, but none of them register when my eyes dance over her supple breasts.

How is it possible to be so ethereal? Everything about her is perfection, from the way her dusky nipples harden the longer I stare, to the soft curve of her neck. But what truly steals my breath are her chocolate-brown eyes, framed by wispy lashes that brush her cheeks every time she blinks, and her plump, soft lips with their defined cupid’s bow.

“Do you like what you see?” she asks, sounding brave, but I don’t miss the slight quiver in her voice.

“I don’t know, do we?” I direct my question at the boys. “Do we like our little traitor naked and at our mercy?”

Daemon simply smirks, amused by the games I’m playing with the squirming little angel. He rises to his feet, stalks up to us, and collects her panties from the floor. I hold my breath as he puts them to his nose and breathes in her scent before tossing them back at her.

“Get dressed.”

My mouth falls open, and so does the angel’s.

“Daemon—” I start, but he cuts me off.

“As much as I want to eat her pretty little cunt until she screams my name, we have more important things to discuss.” He throws her the dress too, then retakes his seat and puts his ankle over his knee, looking the epitome of unaffected.

Both Alaric and Ronan chuckle.

Me? I’m not impressed in the slightest. I enjoyed toying with her until Daemon put a sudden stop to it. I feel like a sulking child as I turn around to sit down on the armrest of Daemon’s chair.

The angel dresses quickly, hiding that perfect body of hers.

“Why are you being stalked?” Daemon’s voice rings out in a deep rumble I feel down to my toes.

“How would I know that?” she asks, pulling the dress over her head and covering up her swollen tits.

“You must have some theories? Enemies?”

“I don’t,” she grinds out, looking as if she’s on the cusp of losing her cool with Daemon. “If I did, I wouldn’t be in this situation, would I?”

“Cut the attitude.” His tone is final.

Grinding her teeth, she tears her gaze away and looks in the opposite direction.

“Do you have any enemies? People with a vendetta against you?”

Her jaw clenches as he stays silent. It pisses Daemon off. Though he hides it well, I notice the subtle changes in his demeanor, because I’m so used to his body language.

It’s never a good sign when the sound of Daemon’s breathing falls below an audible range. He’s hot-headed by nature and not someone who likes to leash his annoyance or anger. Especially not where bratty girls are concerned.

“Answer me.”

She stiffens.

“Answer me, or I’ll make you regret it.”

“I don’t have any enemies. What enemies could I possibly have? I’m new here.” She looks at us then, and the glassy sheen to her big eyes makes me want to see real tears trailing down her cheeks. “The only people I know are you guys, your uncle, and Dmitriy. My circle of friends isn’t exactly big.”

“Or maybe someone wants to hurt Daemon through you?” Alaric speaks up while Ronan lights a cigarette.

“If that’s the case, then why did this person chase me in the library? Or that time in the woods? Daemon was nowhere around then.”

Alaric narrows his eyes. “Why did the person run away and leave you unharmed after stabbing Daemon?”

“How would I know?” She throws her hands up. “Have you seen Daemon? He’s scary as fuck.”

Daemon’s lips kick up in a smile, but he says nothing, content to witness her flounder.

“Tell us about the darkness,” Alaric demands. “How do you lose control?”

“I don’t know what to tell you…”

“Just start from the beginning.”

So that’s what she does.

She tells us everything.