Читать книгу Brimstone Prince - Barbara Hancock J. - Страница 16

Chapter 8

It wasn’t safe for her to travel alone. She couldn’t fight off an army of Rogues with her father’s blade. She wasn’t sure how much sleep they’d managed between them, but they were up before dawn to meet at the car as they’d planned. Grim had disappeared. She blinked at shadows to determine if the hellhound was lurking near his master, but couldn’t decide if her gooseflesh was in response to the cool morning air or the beast’s stare.

“We should separate and meet at the river, but I don’t want to leave you on your own and Grim won’t cooperate,” Michael said.

Lily wouldn’t have been keen to travel alone with the hellhound anyway.

“I’ll think cold thoughts,” she promised, knowing it was a lie.

“Will you?” Michael challenged. He had placed his guitar in the back seat and he braced his hands against the top of the car on the driver’s side. Lily stood in the open door of the passenger side and met his gaze over the dusty roof. Something in his narrowed eyes spoke of tension and she dropped her eyes, but that only led her to look at his white-knuckled grip.

“Maybe you’re the one that needs to chill?” Lily suggested.

“I’m working on it. Trust me,” Michael said. He pushed away from the car and got behind the wheel in one fast, fluid motion. Lily swallowed. If this was him working on tamping down his Brimstone burn, she couldn’t imagine him letting go. Couldn’t, but did for several long moments as she tried to remember how to get into the car like a woman who wasn’t lost in thoughts that could get her killed.

Only the sudden thought that the daemon king had known exactly what he was doing when he’d thrown them together spurred her to take a deep breath and get into the car. He wanted them harried and hounded by Rogues. He wanted them drawn together. He wanted them to crave the forbidden fruit while they went for the wings.

A mantle fit for a future king.

She’d wondered what Ezekiel’s entire scheme entailed and maybe she was beginning to have an inkling of an answer. It was in the flush on her skin as she sat too close to Michael in the enclosed space. It was in the deep breath she took as she buckled her seat belt, already craving the scent of his skin, warmed from the outside by sun and from the inside by his fire.

Ezekiel was an Ancient One. He’d fallen from heaven to rule in hell. He’d battled Rogues for centuries. But he was a complex being with many facets all tilted toward strengthening his kingdom.

Michael’s reluctance as the prince and heir of the throne was well-known, but Ezekiel was determined that he would be a king. Ezekiel had ruled alone for too long. He might want more for his beloved Elizabeth’s grandson.

The idea of her royal guardian as a nearly immortal and unpredictable matchmaker caused panic to rise up in her chest.

“Hang on,” Michael said. “The sooner we get to the wings the better.”

Her body was pressed against the buttery leather by their momentum as the Firebird sped from the hotel parking lot. Her head grew light and her palms pressed against her hollow belly as her stomach dropped. Michael drove down the Arizona highway with a hound of hell literally at his bumper urging him on.

But would her task be over once they retrieved Lucifer’s wings? She was afraid that leading Michael to heaven was only the beginning of her torment.

Ezekiel had said the palace had been built for her. She was used to the temporal tricks and treats of the hell dimension, where time was amorphous and seemingly unrelated to time on earth. The palace had seemed ancient and always. Built long before she’d been born.