Page 3 of Wings of Darkness (Daughter of the Seven Circles #2)

Chapter

Three

LUCILLE

G rogginess weighed down my eyes as I blinked into a canopy of red and black fabric.

I twisted to the right, tracing a line of deep red pillows that ended at a trio of floor-length, gothic windows.

Pale light spilled through their decorative panes, casting shadows across the floor.

A popping sound pulled my attention to a small fire flickering in a stone hearth.

I sat up.

Where was I?

Scooting over to the edge of the bed, I pushed off my blankets. A loose camisole fell over my chest, ending at a pair of tiny black shorts. I froze at the sight of the giant pink scars. They ran from the hem of my bottoms down my thighs, their stitched edges overlapping.

Who healed me ?

I stood. Vertigo hit. I shot my arm out to steady myself and knocked over a water glass on the end table.

“Lucy? Are you awake?”

“Oliver?”

He stepped into the large bedroom. But he wasn’t alone.

“What is that Soulhound doing here?”

Oliver approached. “She lives here.”

As I met the beastie’s deep, golden gaze, a blanket of safety enveloped me.

Going off instinct, I held out my hand. The beastie came bounding over, head-butting my palm with her wet nose and pushing me back into the bed.

“Huh, I expected a panic attack over her, not whatever”—he gestured to us—“this weirdness is. Do you know this Soulhound?”

“We’ve met.”

“Oh.” Oliver sank onto the bed. “She’s sweet.” He ran his hands through her shadow fur. “Aren’t you, Rune?”

Rune scooted away from him and plopped down beside me, leaning into my side.

Heavenly Hell, she weighed a lot.

I smirked. “We met when I tried to escape Aspen and Brock.” But the more I thought about it—the size of her, the ebony fur, the way she pushed into my touch—I wondered if that really was the first time I saw her.

“Right, well, if you weren’t all broken and weak, I’d guarantee she’d be snuggled next to me and not you.”

I rolled my eyes, then took in Oliver. Usually, his hair lay like a messy mop atop his head. But now it stuck up in every direction. He’d been stress-scrubbing—a lot.

“Oliver.” My attention drifted to the intricately carved door near the crackling fireplace. “Last time I saw you, I knocked you out while you were under the influence of Magda, and now you’re here, wherever here is. What have I missed?”

“You’ve been mostly unconscious and healing for a week. And…”

“And?”

Oliver ran a hand through his chaotic hair. “We’re stuck in Hell for the foreseeable future.”

“What?”

He sighed. “After Hell’s general rescued us and your mom, I met the king. He told me it’d be at least another year before the gates opened again. Another year before he could help rescue my sister in exchange for returning you and your mom. So we’re stuck here.”

“No.” There had to be a punchline.

Oliver ran his hands up his face. “We are. One more damned year to add to the ninety-five.”

“No!” I wanted to stand and pace, to shriek, to—to do something! Aspen needed me.

“Trust me, I get it. I’ve done my screaming and might’ve destroyed a few things in the rooms I’m staying in.”

“There has to be a way out!”

I couldn’t let Lilith control Aspen for one more day—let alone another year—and Oliver deserved a chance to find his sister. She was all he had. He never talked about the angel who fathered him—only her. Thinking about his family reminded me of my own.

“You said my mom’s here?” Dark wood trim framed the painted gothic roses blooming in reds and blacks on the walls. “Where is here, exactly?”

Oliver flopped onto his back, pulling me down with him. “She is, but I’m not sure where. You’ll have to ask the king. We’re in his castle.”

I stilled. “We’re in my father’s castle?”

We were in Hell, like my mom’s prophecy predicted, in the home of a male I’d only met through conversations in my head. A male with an authority complex, a cunning disposition, and little tolerance for my snark.

“The King of Hell is your father?”

I slowly nodded, but couldn’t think about the male who sired me. Not yet. Not after Oliver’s bombshell.

“You’re the Princess of Hell.”

Heavenly Shit. “Yep.”

“How could you have kept that from me?” he accused.

I shot him a dry look.

“Right. Stupid question.”

“A year, Oliver?” Disbelief rang in my tone.

He sighed again. “I know. But I guess Hell’s been having issues. The gates used to open for a few minutes every day, releasing and gaining souls. Now it’s a lot less—if ever.”

“Is it all that bad? What soul wants to end up in Hell?” I muttered .

“Probably no one. But when I kill Marcus, I hope he ends up here.”

“Yeah, I can think of a few people I want to send to Hell too.”

We lay in silence, both lost in our thoughts, when Rune jumped onto the bed. She lay across the pillows and attacked my cheek with her tongue.

“Okay, okay!” I pushed her large head away.

Oliver snorted. “She sure does like you.” Then he sat up. “Oh, fuck-a-duck.”

“What?” I groaned. We didn’t need any other earth-shattering reveals at the moment. I needed to find clothes, my mom, and a loophole to this new cage.

“Rune’s eyes are glowing.”

“So?”

His face scrunched in puzzlement. “So, it has something to do with him—her angel counterpart. I read something about Soulhound bonds years ago. They’re connected somehow, like he can see through her eyes. And maybe more. I don’t remember.”

“And her counterpart is?”

Someone knocked—not on the door wide open to the bedroom, but on another, hidden beyond the wall.

“The oh-so-scrumdiliumcious male who rescued you and lives down the hall from us, and is the?—”

A male walked into the room.

A sinfully hot male—in a slam-you-up-against-a-wall-and-satisfy-all-your-needs kind of way.

His black button-up hugged every bulging muscle, sleeves rolled to reveal tattooed arms inked in black that curled into the open V of his shirt and wrapped around his neck.

A clean fade sharpened his dark hair, longer on top, neat at the sides.

And when he moved, the gold accents on his sleeves caught the light—mirroring the burn in his golden eyes.

“Him,” Oliver whispered in my ear. “The General of Hell.”

Shit.

The general’s eyes flashed with shadows. Not flame—shadows. What the hell was he?

He snapped his fingers, and Rune jumped down, placing herself at his side.

“Leave her bed, Nephilim.” The same shadows that flickered in his eyes swirled around his inked neck, flowing past his button-up to wrap around his tensing arms and sheath his hands.

“Oliver can be wherever he wants to be,” I said in his defense.

The general blinked and raised his chin. A shadow whipped out from his hand and snaked around Oliver’s bicep, yanking him off my bed. He stumbled as the general forced him away from me.

“Who the hell do you think you are, barging in here and manhandling him?” I stood and reached for Oliver. Immediately, the room swayed, and my legs wobbled. Before I could fall, another shadow flew toward me—along with Oliver and a large, whimpering Soulhound.

Rune crashed into Oliver, sending him careening into my side. I grunted and tensed for the impact of the hardwood floor. But it never came.

The shadows that flew toward us cushioned our fall and slowly lowered us to the ground.

“You okay, Lucy?” Oliver mumbled .

Rune pressed her wet nose into my cheek, and I gave her a small glare. She didn’t mean to slam Oliver into me and knock us down. She just seemed to have no idea how big she actually was.

“Yeah. You?”

“Well, I got a faceful of your bony shoulder, and I’m pretty sure Rune bruised my side, but I’m fine,” he said, lifting his head to give me a goofy wink before flopping it back into my neck with a groan.

“ Leave , Nephilim.” Shadows overtook the unique gold of the general’s eyes, turning them into dark, fathomless pits. “She needs to change and eat. Her father wants to meet with her in a couple of hours.”

Oh, goodie. Another controlling, powerful asshat.

“And I was just getting comfortable too.” Oliver sighed, untangling his legs from mine.

The general’s expression narrowed. Two shadows shot out and snaked around Oliver’s arms, forcing him to his feet.

His emerald eyes flashed with fire before settling to irritation.

I sat up, meeting the general’s gaze with a defiant stare—for Oliver’s sake—but as much as I wanted to snap at him, I forced myself to hold back.

Mainly because this was the male I needed to convince to help me, and we were already off to a disastrously bad start.

“Go, Oliver. I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?” A rebellious smile twitched at the corner of his lips. Oliver would try his damndest to stay if I asked.

We had come a long way in our friendship.

“Yes, I’ll explain later. ”

His smile flattened, understanding I had something serious to talk about—something he probably wouldn’t agree with. But the part about rescuing his sister would pique his interest.

“Alright. I’ll be back later, then.” Oliver turned, eyeing the general up and down as he left. The general took no notice of him, his drilling, dark stare directed only at me.

Wonderful.

I pushed to my feet, and his shadows helped to hold me up. Part of me wanted to tell him to get off me, but I couldn’t stand without him. Lying unconscious in a bed for a week left me shaky and unstable. It also explained the ache in my stomach.

But I could do without the angry staring contest as I climbed back into bed. Well, angry for him. I’d shoved all my glares into a locked box, and keeping it shut took strength. Especially when his expression said I wasn’t worth his time or energy.

“So, I guess thanks for saving me twice now. And saving my mom.”

It was a pathetic attempt at gratitude, but I couldn’t muster anything more, especially with the awkward tension thick in the air.

His eyes returned to their luminous gold. “Twice?”

“Yeah…” I tilted my head. “You and that female woke me up?”

I’d been so close to giving in to the Void when Marcus held me prisoner and poisoned me for Michael.

But the general’s voice—and the powerful emotion that bellowed out of him—woke me up.

He’d acted like he knew me. But now, it looked like he not only didn’t know me, but despised being in my presence.

Maybe I got it wrong. Maybe it wasn’t his voice .

“I’ve been here in Hell for the past ten years. Last week, when I rescued you, was my first time out.”

That didn’t add up. Was he lying to me? If he didn’t rescue me from my poisoned mind, then who did?

“Okay. Well, thanks….” I prompted for his name.

He crossed his large arms. “You can call me General or General Ronen. Your choice.”

“What’s your first name?”

“Ronen. But you’re not allowed to call me that without my title.”

Oh, Heavenly Hell. He wasn’t going to make any of this easy on me.

“That’s not your last name?” I gritted out.

“Angels and demons don’t have last names. That’s purely a human quality. You’d know that if you grew up around us.”

And with that oh-so-pleasant but pointed comment nudging me to tap into my Infernus and chuck an icicle at his head, I said, “Get out of my room.”

I didn’t have to tolerate his disrespect or the disdain pressed into his lips. Sure, I needed to play nice—and I would—but I had no energy for that right now.

His shadows swallowed his eyes, and his nostrils flared. Aspen wasn’t the only one who showed his anger through the power in his eyes. But from the pressure behind my own, I had a feeling they weren’t alone.

“I may be weak right now, General. But that won’t stop me from freezing your ass if you don’t listen. ”

It was all bluster. The mere thought of pulling at my power made me want to pass out. But he didn’t know that.

“Your father wants to meet with you in a few hours.”

No shit. It’s not like he didn’t just mention that.

“Out.”

I needed a second to gather myself and take in Oliver’s information. I needed to process the fact that I was in my father’s lands. I was the Princess of Hell. I was a born angel. And the person whose help I needed already hated me.

“Please,” I pushed out through clenched teeth.

“Be ready.” He gave me one last punishing stare, then left.

Rune sat in the doorway, panning between me and the general with her glowing golden eyes.

“Beastie, I’m not sure what the glowing entails, but if the general is watching through you, I’d prefer if you cut it out.”

Rune’s eyes returned to their normal hue, and I slumped back, feeling weak.

I patted my bed, and Rune jumped up, curling into my warmth without hesitation. My body sank into the sheets, but my mind… that was a different story.

Overwhelming thoughts circled with a vengeance, pressing down on my chest with each pass.

I didn’t expect to wake in my father’s castle.

The very thought of that term made my stomach twist. I knew he wasn’t Michael, but that didn’t change the fact that Michael tainted that word—and practically every other endearment regarding a father figure—with every line he carved into my body since I was five.

And the king wouldn’t be any better.

My mother kept me hidden from him for a reason.

She always thought he’d kill me.