Free Angel's Shield by Erin M. Leaf

cuddle for a little bit.
She glanced at Haniel. His face was closed down, eyes shuttered. “But that’s
impossible. There are two of you. How can we be bonding?” she asked.
    “Obviously you and Jeremiel are destined for each other,” Haniel
said. He rolled away from them, jabbing his feet into his shorts.
    Charmeine shook her head. “No, no way.” She wrung her hands
together. “No.”
    Jeremiel nodded. “I agree with her. If we’re bonding, it’s all
three of us.”
    Haniel stood up abruptly. “Are you crazy? I’m not even a true
angel anymore!” He headed for the door.
    Charmeine laughed shortly. “I’m not an angel at all.”
    He stopped just inside the doorframe, back bowed. Charmeine
waited, but he didn’t move. She was about to speak when he spun around. “Do you
hear that?”
    She frowned and glanced at Jeremiel, confused by the rapid change
of subject. He’d gone still, head cocked.
    “Hear what?” he asked.
    “Crackling.” Haniel strode out the door and down the hall.
    “What is he talking about?” she asked Jeremiel.
    He stood up and walked to the door. “Wait.” He held up his hand.
    A trickle of worry slid through her. When Haniel burst back into
the room, naked blades in his hands, her worry turned to fear. She turned
around, staring at her window. Dusk had fallen while they’d made love, but the
shadows didn’t disturb her. Rather, the prickle at the back of her neck that
told her she was being watched, again, was what made her step away and put her
back to the wall.

 
    Chapter Seven
     
    “Demons,” Haniel hissed, ignoring the pain in his legacy marks. “Dear
God, help us,” he muttered. A spasm of pain shot through him and he cursed
under his breath. Now was not a good time for him to be fighting his body’s
urge to shift. He couldn’t afford weakness. Not with Charmeine here, needing
his protection. He lifted his blade toward the window, setting his stance into
a guard position. Jeremiel came up beside him and he silently handed his friend
his weapon.
    “What kind?” Jeremiel asked tersely. “Can you tell?”
    Haniel had always been better at sensing evil than Jeremiel, much
to both of their frustration. That had been what led them to the demon at
Castle Archangel two years ago, the one that burned his arm. He’d learned his
lesson, though. He no longer rushed in, with no backup and no plan. “I’m not
sure. Something powerful. Not a boar demon. We should be careful.” He cursed
again. “We’re boxed in here.”
    “That’s not good,” Jeremiel said, striding forward. He pushed back
Charmeine’s frilly curtains and peered outside. All was silent and dark. Even
the normal hum of crickets was absent.
    Definitely not good , Haniel thought.
    “I don’t see anything,” Charmeine said, creeping forward.
    “Stay back,” Haniel said, moving closer. He checked the other
window, the one nearer the bed. Suddenly, a pillar of eye-searing light flared
up outside, shattering the pane and spattering him with molten glass. He growled,
blade up and ready, but he knew he couldn’t do a damn thing until the demon
showed itself. And Charmeine’s curtains were already on fire.
    “We need to get out of here,” Jeremiel said, backing away from the
window.
    “Too late,” Haniel said grimly. A slim form stepped through the
flames.
    “Definitely too late,” the creature said, smiling as if he were
out for a stroll on the beach.
    That’s a Demon Lord, Haniel thought, shocked. He didn’t waste breath replying. He just
lunged forward, blade low and deadly. He managed to slice the demon’s arm, but
the creature shook off his blade with a mild look of distaste. Haniel tightened
his grip. Striking the demon had felt like trying to slice through a metal girder.
His fingers were numb.
    “Why would you think that could harm me?” the demon asked
contemptuously. His irises flared red, as if he were made of fire, inside and
out.
    “What are you?” Charmeine asked faintly,