*Logan
Moments after jumping in the river, Logan cursed himself. Chiara's weight dragged them both further down, water stronger than him. He fought and kicked, but couldn't make sense of up or down with the frothing, raging river. It held them, it tossed them, it carried them where it wanted.
He needed air. Chiara struggled on his back, digging nails into his skin. She was drowning, while he helplessly raged.
Without warning, the water flipped them around and slammed them into something, Chiara taking the brunt of the blow. The instant later, she went limp.
She let go and he lost her to the water's darkness.
Adrenaline shot along his muscles. He swam in the last direction he felt her, reaching, searching.
Fucking Hell.
He was the Dark Flame, born nearly a thousand years ago and the deadliest warrior among his kind—he wasn't going to fucking drown or let the river take his angel.
His hand locked around her wrist. He tugged. His arm went around her waist. He kicked upwards.
Then they burst free of the water's iron grip. Logan pulled them both onto dry ground. Hacking coughs wracked him. Water came up from his lungs and stomach to spill on the ground. He took a scorching breath of air. Coughed. Another gasp. He couldn't get enough air.
But worse, Chiara wasn't moving. She wasn't coughing or breathing.
"Chiara!" His voice was gravel from his ragged throat, commanding her to wake up, but she was limp and blue. Her wings jutted out at horrifying angles on the rocky ground beneath her.
If there a time to save her with a power beyond his own, it was now. He reached for his belt, patting frantically.
His hand closed around the flask.
What saints had been watching her from above to ensure he still had Lucius's tiny canister strapped to his waist after the trials of five halls and countless fights?
Could those saints truly see into the darkest depths of Hell to help one of their own?
He didn't know, but he was grateful. He twisted the top off with his teeth, careful not to tip it and lose the precious contents.
There had to be at least one drop. One.
Please. If you are watching....
He fisted her hair, tilting her head back. Her jaw dropped slack, lips purple, skin sickly white. He tipped the metal container at the edge of her mouth.
There had to be at least one—
He shook the flask. In the dungeon she had been on the brink of death, body destroyed by Lucius's blows. But she came back from Death's hold. There had to be one drop of—
A crystal clear drop fell from the bottle into her mouth. The same moment, she stiffened, a desperate inhalation lifting her chest.
She blinked up at him and cupped his head to draw him down for a kiss.
She swiped at the seam of his lips, searching to deepen the kiss. His arms tightened around her. Their tongues touched, velvet on velvet.
The Fountain's water is life for angelic kind, as well as humans, but not for demons. He hissed in pain as a burning, scraping sensation spread through his mouth, down his throat, searing through his chest, but he didn't end the kiss. He didn't care how much it hurt him, so long as it meant she was alive.
Her wings cracked, bones popping back into place. He felt her brace for the onslaught of knitting bones under his kiss, but she didn't let go. Indeed, she kissed him deeper, melding her body flush to his.
The poison of the Fountain's water spread along his veins, spiking in his muscles and setting nerves on fire. His gut twisted.
He ignored it. He would heal. This was his realm and Hell took care of her own.
But fuck. Two drops would have spelled his death.
She relaxed suddenly on an exhale. She was whole. Her wings glowed softly despite the grey and rainbow flashes of the feathers. He dropped his forehead to hers.
"Chiara," he whispered. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For almost drowning you. I thought, for a moment there, I thought..."
"I'm still here."
"I should have found another way." He helped her stand on shaking legs.
She brushed his cheek, eyes locked on his. "You brought me through the hall and got us both out of the river. I'm glad you had the Fountain water, though. I'm not sure if I'd be here now without it."
"I'm also sorry for doing this."
She frowned and he motioned to a dark crevice in the wall, a slash in the rock. "We have to pass through the tunnels again to get to Wrath, but we're very close. We'll run."
She nodded. Despite the healing power of the drop, she was still pale and something fragile shadowed her face. "Wait."
A grimace flitted over her face. A snap sounded from her back. When she raised her eyes again, her fierce strength glimmered in their depths.
From one second to the next, though, the strength changed to wrath. Her wings glowed brighter. His pulse jolted into a sprint. A scent came to him, her scent, but laced with an intoxicating call to battle.
She was shifting. Angelli.
No, shit—
His sleeping Daemonium stirred at the call. It clawed its way upwards, demanding to be released to fight the angelli it sensed.
He blinked and her face and limbs were longer, skin glowing, too, now. A sharpness defined the bones in her face and hands. Wrath threatened to consume him.
He wanted to fight.
He wanted to cut off her wings.
He rammed the cruel desire, his daemonium's desire, back down. Forcing himself to calm and his daemonium to return to sleep, he controlled his own shift long enough to take her hands. He entwined his fingers through hers.
"Chiara, stay with me," he said firmly. "You can't let the Angelli loose in this place, every demon in hell will come straight for you. Chiara—"
She arched her back. He didn't let go. She would have to kill him before he let go.
With a shudder, she unshifted.
Logan took a deep breath. There was a faint growling in his head as his daemonium accepted defeat and curled into a dark corner of his body to sleep again.
"My Chiara, my light," he whispered. "You have to keep the Angelli down."
"I know. It came so fast."
"No matter what happens, you can't shift while down here. Wrath will catch you, and if wrath fills your heart while you are angelii, it will break you, make you that thing of shadows, the Tenebrist. Promise me, Chiara, that you won't shift. Nothing can save you if you change, and if you live, the lords of hell will try to enslave you."
"I know—"
"You don't. If you become Tenebrist, you will do one thing only—kill. And you will kill everything alive, including angels and humans. The Duxtori, if they capture you, will unleash you on your own kind."
She took his hands. "I will control it. I won't shift. I swear to you—no matter what."
Satisfied she understood the risks, he nodded. "We have two more halls to get through, and it's going to be a fight, but if we punch our way through these, we are free. Are you ready?"
The crashing rush of the river echoed her voice. "I am."
*** Only two more Halls of Deadly Sin to cross and they are out of Hell - can they get there? Thanks for reading!!! Have an awesome day. ***