Touched By Sin: A Dark Paranormal Romance (Sins of The Fallen Book 1)
Touched By Sin: Chapter 8

I flip another page in the book in front of me on Daemon’s bed and rub my face before blowing out a tired breath. “I can’t replace anything.”

Ronan, lying on his stomach, is on a mission after he picked up every single book he could replace on angels in the library. Now they’re stacked in a precarious pile next to him on the floor.

Daemon throws his book against the wall, leans back in his desk chair, and lets out a string of curse words. “I don’t like this!”

Ronan doesn’t look up from the page in front of him. “No, you don’t like not being in control.”

“Did you not fucking see her scratches?”

“I did. They were impossible to miss.”

Daemon sits forward with his elbows on his knees and rubs his face. “Fuck this shit.”

Blowing out a breath, I turn another page and scan my eyes over the drawings of angels with halos. “Have these authors ever met an angel?” I comment, closing the book. “Aurelia glows, but she doesn’t have a fucking halo over her head.”

“The fall was so long ago. How can we even know what’s true anymore?” Ronan asks, scratching his head while he reads over the page in front of him. Out of the three of us, he has the most patience.

“What I don’t get,” Daemon says, hands steepled and forming a point over his mouth, “is why she would leave Eden in the first place. She must have known she would never return, right? She can’t be that naive to think the gates would magically let her back inside after her first taste of darkness. Her odds of replaceing her way back in the first place were slim. Once you enter those woods…”

We fall silent, each lost in our own thoughts.

“I’m starving,” I comment, rubbing my tired eyes. “It’s been too long since we fed.”

“Think our little angel is up for watching? She’s curious about this world, right?” Daemon asks.

Ronan finally looks up, amusement shining in his dark eyes. “Do I think our little angel is up for watching you fuck and drain a human girl? No, I don’t—at all.”

He considers this.

“But it’s not like you care about her feelings, right?”

Daemon leans back, spreading his legs. “No, I fucking don’t.”

Liar.

“Okay, then,” Ronan replies, and it’s obvious by his tone of voice that he doesn’t believe Daemon for a second. We both know Daemon is lying to himself.

“Let’s go hunt.”

We follow him out into the hallway. Daemon lights up a cigarette, then walks ahead with determined steps to Aurelia’s bedroom. As he bangs on her door, he gives us a brief glance while taking a deep pull on the cigarette. Smoke leaks out past his lips before he sucks it back in and bangs on her door again, harder this time. “Open up, little angel!”

The door slowly creaks open, and her blue eyes widen as she takes us in—three testosterone-filled men with hungry eyes and aching fangs. After inching the door open, she slides out and sinks back against the mahogany wood.

“You’re coming with us,” Daemon orders, bringing the cigarette up to his mouth. Smoke curls in the air, and the flames from the torches on the walls flicker in her blue eyes.

“Where?”

“I wasn’t fucking asking.” Daemon crushes the cigarette under his boot. “Get moving.”

She yelps when he grasps her neck, forcing her to walk. He’s rough with her, more so than I’ve seen with any girl.

He likes her but won’t admit it.

Crossing the border to the human lands is something we’re so used to that we don’t bat an eyelid, but our little angel’s eyes are wide and curious as she takes in the back alley. Spinning in a circle, her skirt flares around her thighs. The fog is dense tonight; steam comes out of the sewers nearby, and it reeks of piss and garbage.

“Welcome to the city,” I drawl, walking ahead.

“Where are you going?” Her bare feet pad on the concrete. We should have made her put on her shoes, but it’s too late now. “The humans will see your wings.”

“Not true,” Ronan comments. “Humans only see what their minds are capable of perceiving. They live in a world where they’re taught from childhood that nothing exists outside of their scientific articles. What others tell them is ‘true,’ and it makes them blind to that which can’t be explained with logic. God could stare them in the face and they wouldn’t see him. Instead, they explain away his existence with some theory about how their brain interprets reality based on some traumatic event in their childhood, thus creating visions that aren’t real. They could walk past a shifter in the street and think it’s a weird-looking dog. If it transformed into its human shape, they’d blame what they saw on schizophrenia. Me and my brothers could fly in the sky, and they would explain it as some weird reflection of light.”

“You’re saying they won’t see your wings?”

“Not until they believe. And they won’t believe until their lives are in mortal danger. Then they’re ready to believe in almost anything to save their skin.”

She follows us out of the alley. The streets are almost empty at this hour of the night, except for groups of partygoers hanging around outside the bars. My little angel takes it all in, her bright, blue eyes shining with awe. She’s stunning beneath the soft glow of the streetlights.

We enter a nightclub, then weave through bodies until we reach a spacious dance floor. The walls pulse with the heavy beat of the music, and the air is thick with the smell of sweat and alcohol. Women in short dresses and high heels dance provocatively while men eye them up like meals.

“What are we doing here?” Angel shouts over the music.

Daemon already has his eyes set on someone—a girl with fiery hair and pale, freckled skin. The red dress she wears fits her like a second skin, conforming to her soft curves while she moves in time with the sultry beat. Daemon steps up behind the human girl, and Angel grits her jaw when he pulls her back against his chest. They move fluently together. Daemon works his magic right before our eyes, priming his prey and subduing her with his scent and strong hands.

Our little angel, driven by the instinct to protect her territory, tries to stride past. I pull her back, banding my arm around her waist. She can’t see it yet, but her primal desires are at the forefront, clouding her vision.

“Now is not the time. I can’t let you interrupt the hunt.”

Stiffening, she cranes her neck to look up at me. “What do you mean by that?”

It’s cute how naive she is sometimes. “Look,” I order, tipping my chin toward the scene in front of us. I can practically hear the little angel grind her teeth when Daemon buries his nose in the girl’s neck. She can’t see the bigger picture yet.

“Let me go,” she orders, extracting herself from my arm, and I stare after her as she storms off in the opposite direction.

“Should we follow after her?” Ronan asks.

“Leave her be. She needs us to get back.”

Ronan looks at me uncertainly. He’s the soft one in the group, and the thought of a true angel alone in the human world with so little knowledge of the dangers here is bound to pull on his heartstrings. The thoughts flee my head when Daemon snakes his hand beneath the woman’s skirt. We’ve hit the jackpot. We move in as one, following Daemon hot on his heels as he steers the girl outside into the back alley.

The light above the door is broken, and it’s dark except for the soft glow from a streetlight further down the passage, where it opens up to the main street. Daemon steers the girl deeper into the dark alley, away from the light. Hidden by the steam from a sewer, he corners her against the brick wall, hiking her skirt up above her waist.

A fragment of clarity enters her mind when she spots us behind him. Her eyes widen and she gasps, but Daemon muffles the sound with his hand. My fangs ache with the need to feast. Daemon, the fucker, knows this, but he takes his time, toying with his food like a cat with a mouse. He holds back, though.

Ronan notices it, too. The look he gives me is one of equal curiosity and confusion. So maybe Daemon won’t fuck her despite his threats to the little angel? This is the first time I’ve seen him shy away from an easy fuck before a feast.

“Fuck,” he growls, shoving her off when she reaches for his belt, then he releases a frustrated roar and says to Ronan on his way past, “You deal with her.”

It’s impossible to hold back my amused smirk while we watch Ronan lift the woman up against the wall and settle between her legs. Why are we doing this? Because the blood tastes sweeter after she has come. We could drain her without seducing her first, but it doesn’t offer the same high. All fallen angels know this.

“Pussy whipped, huh?” I tease.

Daemon snaps his head to me. “Fuck you. I’m not pussy whipped.”

“No? Is that why you’re not balls deep in her right now? Why you let Ronan do the dirty work?”

Daemon, who hates showing weakness, sucks on his teeth in annoyance. The very idea that a girl could control him like this makes his skin crawl. Ronan teases the girl, stroking her over her panties, but he doesn’t take it any further and his fingers never slip beneath the fabric. Daemon soon loses patience, shoving me forward. “Sort her out.”

Chuckling, I raise my hands. “Fine, I’ll do it since you motherfuckers became pussy whipped overnight.”

Ronan looks relieved when I take his place. How fucking difficult can it be to fuck this woman? They behave like it’s an enormous struggle to spread her legs and sink into her heat. But when I hook my fingers into her panties, I can’t do it. Something stops me. I try again, but my hand slides back out. What the hell? I palm her creamy neck, rest my forehead against hers, and summon the strength to do what’s needed. The woman’s long hair brushes against her flushed cheeks, and her plump lips look inviting enough that only a fool would turn down the opportunity to taste them. Turns out, I am that fool.

Daemon loses patience, shoving me out of the way. In one swift motion, he tears into her throat, growling when she cries out. It’s our cue to move in, too. We surge forward on silent feet. Falling to my knees, I sink my teeth into the femoral artery in her thigh while Ronan brings her wrist up to his lips. Her subdued struggle soon ends. She falls limp against the brick wall as her heart slows to a stop. We drain her of every last drop before stepping away, blending with the shadows. Her slumped body falls to the ground, and her lifeless eyes stare up at the dark sky.

Daemon, who is breathing hard, wipes his mouth. “We won’t talk about this again.”

“I think we should,” Ronan replies, toeing the girl’s thigh. “Why couldn’t any one of us fuck this girl?”

Confounded, I shake my head. “I thought I could, but then when I tried to slide her panties aside, something stopped me.”

A loud crash startles me, and I turn to see Daemon let loose on a trash can. He kicks it, not once, but three times.

“The angel is just a fucking girl,” he growls. “She’s not that fucking special.”

Ronan waits for him to calm down before speaking, “Then why didn’t you fuck the human?”

“Why didn’t you?” Daemon counters, his forehead coated in a thin layer of sweat. He wipes it off with the back of his hand, then stiffens. “Where the fuck is Angel?”

“Inside somewhere,” I say, sucking a bead of blood off my thumb from the corner of my lips.

Daemon walks back inside and we follow behind, coated in blood and death. It’s not the best idea to re-enter the bar after a feed. While the humans might struggle to see the wings, they’re no strangers to blood. They part like the sea when they spot us making a beeline for our angel across the dance floor, where she sits on a couch, straddling the lap of a human man. I don’t have a short fuse like Daemon, but fury still boils my blood. She’s a fucking brat when she wants to be. She knew we would replace her, and she made sure to lash out at Daemon the best way she knew how—by awakening his jealous side.

He seizes her arm, tearing her off the man. Angel falls on her ass and shoots back up to her feet, staring in disbelief and horror.

“Think you can fucking touch my girl?” Daemon growls at the unsuspecting stranger who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Before the man can respond, Daemon rips out his windpipe, and blood gushes from the wound. The sounds of gurgling, choking, and gasping make me smirk. Daemon is teaching the little angel a very important lesson: defy us, and someone has to pay the consequences.

After climbing off the man, Daemon throws the fleshy lump on the floor and then storms off without another word. Angel, with her wide eyes and stricken expression, has her hands pressed over her mouth, unable to believe what just happened. I have to admit that it was a bit extreme. I’ve never seen Daemon rip out a man’s trachea for flirting with his girl. That would require Daemon to care—something he has never done before.

Very interesting.

Angel storms out after him, uncaring about the shocked, crying humans. As soon as we step outside, she shoves Daemon’s back. “What was that back there?! What the actual fuck, Daemon? You killed that man!”

He whirls on her, his eyes flashing with lethal danger. Covered head to toe in blood, he looks like the devil himself. “I warned you what would happen if you so much as looked at another man. He deserved it. That fucker thought he was halfway in your panties.”

She shoves his chest hard, but he doesn’t budge. “You’re sick, Daemon! You’re fucking sick!”

“Guys, we need to leave unless we want to explain to your father why we ended up in human jail,” Ronan says. It’s meant as a joke, but he has a point. We’ve already created a mess. Sirens wail in the distance. We’ve never caused a scene like this before. Usually, the girls disappear into the silent night to be found by some poor homeless person. Our angel made a spectacle tonight with her little show that let loose the monster in Daemon.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” she growls when he bands his bloody arm around her waist and launches them into the air.

My wings spring out and I take off after them, soaring high above the rooftops. “Your father has quite the mess to sort out.”

Daemon barely acknowledges me, and poor Angel clings to him like a spider monkey, her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms circling his neck.

“Two dead bodies. Three flying angels,” chuckles Ronan on Daemon’s other side.

His dad will soon sort it out, but he might not be too happy.

We cross over to the underworld. The temperature immediately drops, and the night seems darker as we fly over the treetops.

Our little angel keeps arguing. “I can’t believe you did that. You’re such a psycho!”

If she’s not careful, he might drop her.