When the flap of the thick canvas of the yurt was drawn aside, moonlight poured in accenting a full figure too sensual to bemale.
"Fifty seven," the silky voice said from the entrance, dropping the heavy flap and enshrining us both in darkness once again. "You killed fifty seven of my demons before they were able to subdue you."
I withheld the wince when my grin reopened the split in my lip. "Not my personal best but not too bad either, considering…" I jerked my head up to the irons still searing my skin.
A blast of fire lit a wooded pit to the right of us, sending a wash of light into the large yurt, the sudden brightness blinding, and I squinted through it to keep eyes on my newfound cousin—or enemy. It entirely depended on the choices she made from here on out.
Bright violet eyes regarded me for a brief moment before she sniffed and strolled past me towards several trunks lining the back side of the enclosure. Unlacing her linen top coated in ash and blood, she let it drop from her shoulders to the ground, revealing small pert breasts and smooth olive skin before stooping to open a chest. Donning a clean white shirt, similar to the one she just was wearing, she glanced up at me as she tied the laces. "And if there had been no irons?"
I sucked at my lip, tasting the sharp bite of my own blood on my tongue. Releasing it with a soft pop, my gaze bore into hers. "You would no longer have an army."
Her violet eyes sparkled, her soft red lips forming into a small smile before turning back around and stripping off her soiled pants and boots, a supple ass greeting me as she bent yet again to rummage through her trunk. "What is your name?"
Admittedly enjoying the view and her feminine curves, I answered simply. "Remnant."
"And how exactly do our dads know each other?" she called, her ass wiggling as she shifted through her clothing.
My brow rose, did she really think she could interrogate me by distracting me with her naked sex? "And your name is…?"
She snorted, rising up to hold up a pair of faded blue pants, sniffing at them, before turning them side to side. "I am called Avalon."
I nodded. "Our fathers…both deal in death. Shea is a the death god of Faerie. He sorts souls for the afterlife. Yours is a fallen angel that tortures souls that have been sent to Hell. It would seem their lands overlap each other."
Her long blonde hair fell over her shoulder as she half turned to look at me, shoving a foot into her clean pants. "Lucifer never bothered to torture souls, they torture themselves just fine enough, there’s a realm for everyone here.” Her grin flashed in the firelight. “Hell will do that to you if you're here long enough. Half those beasts you and your pet cat plowed through earlier today were once humans, powerful ones, whose souls were so warped they became what we call centurion demons." Shoving another leg into her pants, she turned back to me, shimmying her hips into the tight fitting clothing.
Emon would love that she called him a pet…but at least that told me she was still ignorant of shifters—and my daughter.
"Where is the dark angel now? Your father?"
Avalon's eyes bored into mine, brief pain passing in them as she fastened her pants. "Dead."
I tilted my head. "My condolences. I do hope he was a better father to you than mine to me."
Her expression grew wistful for a moment before she frowned. Waving her hand, a large cushioned chair suddenly appeared with a glass of a strong smelling spirit in her other. Settling into the chair, she crossed her legs, her bare feet with brightly painted red toes bounced as she regarded me, sipping her drink. "He was the best father actually…and then he was betrayed by his own inner circle. All because I begged him to protect a strange being I had never seen before. I wasn’t even eight summers, my birthday was the next day."
My mind raced, piecing her story together, my eyes widening slightly, “Your angel?”
Brows raising, “Yes,” she hissed. Taking another drink, she swallowed, licking her lips. “So you see, I don’t like it when strangers come to my lands uninvited because then I must decide what to do with them…and if I release you from those irons, just as Lucifer released my angel from its cage, what price will I pay this time?”
Suddenly, Riella was in the forefront of my mind—vulnerable and alone. My stomach clenched and my heart twisted in my chest, seeing Lucifer's daughter for what she really was. A child that had to grow up too soon, a young ruler that was bound to play the games of court, rules she was still learning so that she could one day break them and finally be free.
"I am sorry," I said sincerely. “Sorry that you were left alone. And so very sorry that you cannot trust without fear.”
She tilted her head for a moment, a lock of her blonde hair falling across her flawless face, showing the angel innocence that she hid well enough in the world outside this tent. "Those irons look like they hurt."
I shrugged, the hateful metal clinking. "You get used to them, but the smell of your flesh burning never truly leaves you."
She leaned forward, biting at her wet lip, considering me. "I believe we got off on the wrong foot."
I arched a brow, amused by her play at seduction. "Is that what you call this?"
It was her turn to shrug, leaning back in her chair. "Like you said, I have trust issues."
I snorted and twirled my wrist in the chains, my flesh sizzling for dramatic effect while the young queen’s eyes widened slightly. "Clearly. Speak then, make your deals demon, state what you want of me."
Recovering quickly, she took a sip from her glass, then swirled the contents thoughtfully. "You're not the first trespassers to come through here recently."
"Sounds like ayouproblem and I still did not hear a question," I said dryly.
