Read Online The Fallen 03 - Warrior by Kristina Douglas - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kristina Douglas
Ads: Link
stronger.”
“She’s a temporary inconvenience, for you all as well as me,” he shot back. There was a shocked silence at his callous words. In truth, his deliberate cruelty shocked even him, but he wasn’t about to show it. “There isn’t time for this,” he went on, trying to sound reasonable. “If the Armies of Heaven are going to attack in one month, we need to spend every spare moment training.”
“I don’t know why you’re arguing,” Raziel said. “There was a time when you shagged anything female.”
“They didn’t die afterward,” he snapped.
His words were cold. As cold as the ice he could feel forming inside him. He didn’t even know her. He was a warrior, used to death. She’d lived almost twenty-five pampered years, which was better than many people got.
Azazel rose, taking his wife’s hand. “If there’s no changing your mind, I guess we’re done here.”
“We’re done,” Raziel said. He glanced at Martha. “Unless there’s anything else?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Not now.”
Michael wanted to throttle her, but it wasn’t her fault, and in fact he’d always liked Martha. Thomas, her husband, had been one of his best warriors, and she’d taken his death with dignified grief.
None of this was anyone’s fault, and he needed to take a step back and look at it rationally, as one more battle to be fought in the war against Uriel and the Armies of Heaven. Battles were his life—one more was nothing.
He wasn’t going to do it. But there was a quiet little voice inside, a wicked, insidious one: You know this is what you want. You have the perfect excuse, and this way there won’t be any long-term repercussions. You can have her, and then she’ll go away. And you know you want her. You’ve wanted her since you first set eyes on her. Wanted her, when you’ve been impervious to every other woman you’ve seen for eons.
And her blood. He could smell it dancing through her veins, and for the first time he understood the obsession that drove the bonded couples. He’d refused to bond, refused to take blood from anyone but the Source. He could deny Uriel that triumph.
The girl—no, she was a woman, despite the untried aura about her. She called to him.
He would not listen to that voice. He knew women, and she was afraid of him and desperate notto show it. If he took her, then her death was assured. If he left her alone, there was room for hope.
But the fate of the world hung on this. Could he afford to ignore his duty?
It wouldn’t come to that. He’d figure out some way. In the meantime, he was going to do what he did best—push his body to a state of exhaustion in training, and not think about anything else.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
W HEN I AWOKE, THE SUN WAS sending wide shafts of light across the floor of my bedroom, and I sat up, panicked, disoriented. It took me only a moment to remember where I was. I’d traded one prison for another, and looking out the glass doors to the glinting ocean beyond, I didn’t regret my choice.
I pushed out of the comfortable bed, amazed that I’d apparently slept through the night, and quickly made it in military fashion as Pedersen had always insisted. Pedersen. He was dead, by my hands, and I should feel something, anything. All my life he’d been my tormentor and enemy, yet I felt no satisfaction at his death. No sorrow either. I just felt . . . odd. It was as if he were an enemy soldier and I was in the midst of a war. I’d had nochoice. I wasn’t going to waste time lamenting that necessity.
I showered quickly and dressed in the loose white clothes in the closet. To my astonishment, there were bras in my size, as well as lacy underwear. The clothes were utilitarian, a variation on a martial arts gi, but the underwear was pretty, feminine, almost decadent. There was even a delicate negligee, clearly made for a more romantic bride than I was.
I actually liked the wicked underwear. It was my secret, a part of me that I
“She’s a temporary inconvenience, for you all as well as me,” he shot back. There was a shocked silence at his callous words. In truth, his deliberate cruelty shocked even him, but he wasn’t about to show it. “There isn’t time for this,” he went on, trying to sound reasonable. “If the Armies of Heaven are going to attack in one month, we need to spend every spare moment training.”
“I don’t know why you’re arguing,” Raziel said. “There was a time when you shagged anything female.”
“They didn’t die afterward,” he snapped.
His words were cold. As cold as the ice he could feel forming inside him. He didn’t even know her. He was a warrior, used to death. She’d lived almost twenty-five pampered years, which was better than many people got.
Azazel rose, taking his wife’s hand. “If there’s no changing your mind, I guess we’re done here.”
“We’re done,” Raziel said. He glanced at Martha. “Unless there’s anything else?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Not now.”
Michael wanted to throttle her, but it wasn’t her fault, and in fact he’d always liked Martha. Thomas, her husband, had been one of his best warriors, and she’d taken his death with dignified grief.
None of this was anyone’s fault, and he needed to take a step back and look at it rationally, as one more battle to be fought in the war against Uriel and the Armies of Heaven. Battles were his life—one more was nothing.
He wasn’t going to do it. But there was a quiet little voice inside, a wicked, insidious one: You know this is what you want. You have the perfect excuse, and this way there won’t be any long-term repercussions. You can have her, and then she’ll go away. And you know you want her. You’ve wanted her since you first set eyes on her. Wanted her, when you’ve been impervious to every other woman you’ve seen for eons.
And her blood. He could smell it dancing through her veins, and for the first time he understood the obsession that drove the bonded couples. He’d refused to bond, refused to take blood from anyone but the Source. He could deny Uriel that triumph.
The girl—no, she was a woman, despite the untried aura about her. She called to him.
He would not listen to that voice. He knew women, and she was afraid of him and desperate notto show it. If he took her, then her death was assured. If he left her alone, there was room for hope.
But the fate of the world hung on this. Could he afford to ignore his duty?
It wouldn’t come to that. He’d figure out some way. In the meantime, he was going to do what he did best—push his body to a state of exhaustion in training, and not think about anything else.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
W HEN I AWOKE, THE SUN WAS sending wide shafts of light across the floor of my bedroom, and I sat up, panicked, disoriented. It took me only a moment to remember where I was. I’d traded one prison for another, and looking out the glass doors to the glinting ocean beyond, I didn’t regret my choice.
I pushed out of the comfortable bed, amazed that I’d apparently slept through the night, and quickly made it in military fashion as Pedersen had always insisted. Pedersen. He was dead, by my hands, and I should feel something, anything. All my life he’d been my tormentor and enemy, yet I felt no satisfaction at his death. No sorrow either. I just felt . . . odd. It was as if he were an enemy soldier and I was in the midst of a war. I’d had nochoice. I wasn’t going to waste time lamenting that necessity.
I showered quickly and dressed in the loose white clothes in the closet. To my astonishment, there were bras in my size, as well as lacy underwear. The clothes were utilitarian, a variation on a martial arts gi, but the underwear was pretty, feminine, almost decadent. There was even a delicate negligee, clearly made for a more romantic bride than I was.
I actually liked the wicked underwear. It was my secret, a part of me that I
Similar Books
