Page 6 of Heir of Broken Souls (HOBF #3)

Chapter 6

Delilah

I wake with a start. Sweat glides down the nape of my neck.

Placing a shaking hand over my rapidly beating heart, I note that my chest burns with a fiery passion for the air that was stolen from it. And by the razor-sharp feel of my throat, I don’t doubt that what awoke me was not the sudden end of the dream but my own scream.

A shadow flies through the bedroom door to my left, and then gentle hands are cupping my cheeks and holding me close.

“What is it?” His eyes take on a manic glint as they search every inch of my body for injuries, his soul meeting me in my mind. When he pulls up short the gleam of fear recedes a fraction. “Was it the nightmare again?”

My eyes close on their own accord, my body shuddering at the reminder of the nightmares that have plagued me since that night. “No, and I can’t believe I’m saying this but…I wish it was the nightmare.”

Knox rears back. “What could be worse?”

Catching my breath, I allow my mind to try and process all I saw and felt. The whiplash of emotions throughout the dream felt so real, almost like it was a true place I could visit.

“I don’t know where to begin,” I answer honestly.

Knox cocks his head, his hands sliding from my cheeks down to my neck, gliding along the sensitive base, over my shoulders, and down my arms until they finally rest upon my hands. “Can I see?” he asks gently.

With a simple nod, his eyes glaze over.

Conjuring up the dream, it plays in my mind’s eye and instead of feeling everything I did while in it, I focus on Knox, drinking in my fill of him, this distraction allowing me to take in everything that he tries to hide. The day’s worth of stubble on his sharp jaw to the deep bags under his eyes from his many sleepless nights. The color that’s faded from his usual sun-kissed skin. The many crinkles in his pants and rumples in his white shirt.

When was the last time he changed?

Knox rips his hands away with a sharp gasp, his eyes widening. “It can’t be. That’s impossible. They…they no longer exist.”

My heartbeat crashes violently against my rib cage as I drink in the horror stretched across his face. “What?”

“Have you been in the library recently?”

“No.” Shaking my head, I rise on my knees—needing to move. “Knox, what is it? You’re scaring me.”

He’s suddenly off the bed and standing at my side. With a click of his fingers, my robe from the bathroom appears. Wrapping it around myself, I take a shot in the dark and guess. “You don’t think that was a dream?”

“I know it wasn’t.”

The certainty of his answer rocks me.

He takes my hand in his, and I’m shocked to feel the tip of his fingers as cold as ice. Where was he before I woke?

Knox pulls me down the corridor, his steps light as we pass the guest room Axel is still asleep in on our way to the stairs. At first, I’m unsure where he’s taking me until he opens the double doors to his library with a flourish.

Dropping my hand, he stops before a large oil painting that’s housed in the middle of one of the walls of bookshelves. Stories, from all over the world and centuries past, are housed within their confines, surrounding the magnificent work of art.

The art that has Knox’s hands hanging limply at his sides as he stares at it in awe.

Ever so slowly, I turn to scrutinize the painting that has him so enthralled. Seven magical beings are depicted on it, a couple of them lounging on furniture, some staring at items in their hands lovingly, while others are adorned head to toe in armor and appear ready for a battle.

It isn’t their beauty that has snagged my attention, although it is something to behold. But their faces, the colors?—

One figure stands off to the side, their clothing as dark as a demon hound’s leathery skin contradicting the soft luminescent skin of their face. It’s the one that inflicted the torturous pain I felt in my dream. But it couldn’t be, if everything here is so accurate to what I saw.

I gasp. “It was a vision.”

Usually, I know how they feel by now but I haven’t had one since it showed me the end of Aloriah—Peter and another mysterious robed figure torching our world into ash. “This felt different, though. Like…a memory.”

Knox’s eyes assess me, then snag on the painting above my shoulder. “They died centuries ago. That would be impossible.”

“Then why do you look so afraid?” I ask, noting the fear taking its course.

His Adam’s apple rises and falls as he swallows. “Because archangels, as powerful as they are, were thought to be extinct.”

With a soft frown, I admit, “I’m not following.”

Knox tips his chin at the oil painting. “The archangels were celestial warriors. They did not belong to this world. No one knows how they stumbled upon our lands but when they did, they came bearing gifts, ones that were entirely unique to them.”

“They had their own magic system? Just the seven of them?”

“Supposedly, according to them. But you have to keep in mind they were the only archangels to grace these lands. We have never in our history encountered another creature with similar gifts to theirs. We had nothing to compare it to and in that case…”

“No way of knowing if they were lying,” I whisper as I study the oil painting that so greatly captures the very essence of what I saw. “That still doesn’t answer my question.”

“In the last battle they fought, we were told that they would be gone forever, with no trace left. That whatever part of them died within these lands would stay that way.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, I ask, “What are you saying, Knox?”

“That I have a hard time believing you were sent a vision of the seven archangels when they told us their souls would vanish for eternity. I think the archangels are still alive, and I think your vision wasn’t of them but from them.”

With every word from his lips comes the heady sensation of dread. So much so my body sways, my head growing faint with fog. “Why would they lie? Why leave us vulnerable to Peter? You said they were— are celestial warriors. Why abandon these lands if they knew what was coming?”

Knox takes a seat on the edge of the brown leather sofa in the library, rubbing a frustrated hand through his disheveled raven-black hair. “When they died, it was after conquering a battle between pure elemental magic and dark demonic magic. Perhaps they left thinking that was the end. They might not have even known of Peter.” He shrugs, his eyes fixated on the oil painting. “It was so long ago it would be hard to find anyone who lived during that time. All we know now are the legends of the archangels and what they did for us.” His eyes narrow on something behind me. “I think the question to ask is why they are sending you this vision instead of coming back and helping us destroy him.”

I conjure up the memory, the seven archangels standing poised on those podiums. “What language were they speaking in?”

Knox shrugs. “Their language, I presume. It’s not one I’ve heard before.”

“Would we be able to translate it? After all, there has to be a reason behind it. All my visions have had one. And this one, as complicated as it is, feels the most dire.”

Knox rises to his full height, splaying a palm over my lower back. “I’ll have Harlow look into it.”

“What about her current leads?”

“She’s too prideful to announce this to the court, especially Lenox as of late, but she allowed me into her thoughts.” He lets out a deep sigh, one that gives way to the exhaustion wreaking havoc on his body and mind. “She has nothing to go off of.”

I snort without humor. “We certainly set her up to fail. Find the true face of our enemy ,” I mock. “Gods, we were foolish to think we could find the knowledge to destroy him.”

“We will uncover his true identity one day, Angel.”

“Not before he kills us all.”

Knox stiffens, but he doesn’t disagree. A small part of him must believe it too.

As the silence grows, so does a single word in my mind.

“Are we sure it wasn’t a memory?”

Knox’s palm draws lazy circles along my skin, his touch a soothing balm.

“I don’t see how it could be. If anything, this might feel different because it isn’t exactly a vision but perhaps…a meeting.”

“A meeting?” I frown.

“In your dream space.”

Pulling back my head I peer up at my mate. “Are you saying that the seven archangels to be presumed dead…visited me in my dreams?”

“At this point, I think anything is possible.”

A weighted pause falls across the room.

Turning in his arms, Knox’s touch leaves goosebumps along my skin through the thin material of my silk robe. “Where were you before I woke?” I ask, changing the subject to try and catch him off guard.

Knox plops his chin on top my head. “Nowhere important.”

“Don’t play coy with me,” I say sternly, detecting his lie.

His body freezes for a moment before he expels a large breath. “I was in my study looking over the plans again,” he answers quietly.

“Why not wake me? I would have gone over them with you.”

That also doesn’t explain the frozen tips of his fingers. I lock my gaze on his as his cheeks flush, tinting a shade of pink I so rarely see.

“Knox?” I urge, trying to coax the truth out of him.

He swallows thickly, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I knew you would want to join me if you woke and saw me. I need you to be fully rested for tomorrow—this morning,” he corrects.

Taking a deep pull of air, I count to ten.

One.

He means well.

Two.

He doesn’t mean to be overbearing.

Three.

It’s the fear driving his actions.

Four.

I need to allow him time to grieve before he can settle down.

Five.

He doesn’t want to lose me.

Six.

“Is the counting working?” he asks. I hold up my finger.

Seven. Eight.

How about now, Angel? he teases on the bridge of our minds.

Not the time, Knox , I say along the bridge, the counting doing nothing.

Nine. Ten.

When my eyes open again, it’s to the sight of Knox grinning down at me with a certain mischievous twinkle. The sight warms something within my heart, making it beat for another reason other than frustration.

“Why can I not look over the plans with you?” I ask as calmly as I can.

Guilt flashes across his features, there and gone in an instant, but not quickly enough.

“Why?” I demand again.

“Because they were contingency plans?—”

“No!” I snap, stepping out of his arms.

The flash of hurt that flies across his face, as if I caused him physical harm, strikes my heart. I would do anything to take that look off his face…but that’s how we got here. I was lenient in the days after our tragedy. I allowed him to protect me so fiercely he may as well have wrapped me in padding. Now he’s having a hard time stepping out of his fearful mentality.

“No contingency plans, Knox. You will not send me away the moment fighting breaks out. I am one of the fiercest?—”

“He is no longer playing by any rules, Delilah. He is stopping at nothing to kill you. You , Delilah!” he suddenly blurts, his chest heaving from his outburst.

“You will not sacrifice yourself for me.” I take a menacing step forward, my eyes alighting with golden flames, my power rising before I can stop it. I shove my finger into his chest. “I forbid it.”

His eyes narrow into slits. “You do not control me.”

“And you do not control me .” I jam my finger into his chest again. “We are a partnership. If you go down, so do I. Do not make me exist in a world where you do not.”

Knox engulfs my hand in his palm, his warmth flooding my veins in an instant. His stubbornness flickers, wavering, as his lips that were just a moment before flattened in a grimace twitch.

I scowl. “What is so damn funny?”

“We both want to sacrifice ourselves for the other and yet here you are, yelling at because I’m overbearing.”

I scoff. “You are overbearing!”

“Have you heard yourself lately? If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought you were the ruler of the Essence Court.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” His brows shoot into his hairline. “I thought we were partners ,” he teases, drawing the word out. “Queen Delilah suits you well, Angel.”

“Now that is another conversation entirely and you’re derailing the discussion, again.”

Knox pulls me to his chest, wrapping both arms around my waist and trapping me against him. “What conversation?”

“That’s not cute.”

“Wasn’t trying to be. You came up with that idea all on your own.”

Rolling my eyes, I wrap my arms around his neck. “Promise me, no more contingency plans.”

“I’ll do no such thing.”

Sighing deeply, I drop my head to his chest. “What am I going to do with you?”

His lips brush along the shell of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “That, my angel, is a wonderful question, one of which I have a thousand answers to, but you could start by kissing me.”

I begin counting to ten for another reason entirely. My mind may know that he’s distracting me from a discussion we desperately need to have, but my body is happy with the direction he’s trying to pull me in. All it feels is the warmth of his skin against mine. The thin layer of silk separating us. The deep husky drawl of his voice. My body wants Knox and I’ve never been very good at denying it from him.

I lift my face tentatively, finding all-consuming heat in his eyes that drop to my parted lips. “On one condition.”

His tongue peeks out, sliding along his lower lip. “And what is your condition?”

“No more secrets, please.”

“So long as you put your life before mine.”

My heart plummets. “I will never , so long as I breathe, ever put myself before your life. Don’t ask me such a ridiculous thing again.”

I turn away, stepping out of his embrace, burning with anger that he would ask such a thing, but he grabs my wrist and pulls, spinning me into his warm chest again. As soon as I am in his arms, his lips are smashing against mine.

Knox kisses me with such fierce abandon and passion I can’t help but moan into his touch. My lips part for him as we pour all of our frustrations from the passing weeks of danger into the kiss.

Because it’s Knox, and no matter how infuriating he is, I would put up with anything to be with him. Even if he makes plans with Aurora behind my back to whisk me away at the first sign of danger.

Because I have a plan of my own if things go south.

One that involves Zephlyn.