Free Her Demon Prince (Forbidden Fantasy) by Cathleen Ross Page A

its
contents clattering on the floor. “Please, Galaden. Don’t let it kill me.” She
clutched her head as the sensation of intense fear consumed her and she thought
she was losing her mind.
    White light zinged across the
room. The apartment door slammed shut in the gargoyle’s face, rattling with the
force of it.
    Rachael scrabbled off the
floor, ran into the bedroom to the angel’s side and fell to her knees, her legs
too shaky to support her.
    Galaden had risen to a sitting
position on the bed, his face intense with concentration, his hand held up, palm
flat. White energy left his palm, flowed across the room, sealing the door.
When he finished he flopped back on the bed as though the act of protection had
exhausted him.
    He beckoned her closer with a
jerk of his fingers. “You are safe with me. I have it under my control. It
guards my door,” his voice rasped. Fresh blood bubbled at his throat wound.
    “What was that thing?” Rachael
asked.
    “The demon, Envy, a soldier in
the entity army. I have commanded him to serve me. I will locate Agrat using
his own kind. Don’t be afraid, I offer you my protection, Rachael, merchant
daughter of Ezekial.”
    He knew her name but clearly he
was delirious. Entities? Merchant daughter? She had no idea what he was talking
about. From the look of the wound, she wondered how he could even talk let
alone be alive. “You need medical help. I have to call 911.” She glanced over
her shoulder at the door. How long before that thing outside broke in? The
angel looked like he was about to die. She crawled over to her purse, which lay
on the carpet in the middle of the living room where she had fallen.
    “Call no one.”
    Grabbing her purse, she forced
herself to her feet and strode over to the bed. Get a grip, Rachael, she told
herself, though she kept looking at the door, which appeared to be sealed, the
hinges and doorframe no longer visible. Galaden needed a doctor and she had to
get her act together before that gargoyle broke in. This was no time for weak
knees.
    She opened her bag and
extracted her phone.
    Galaden’s eyes became hard. He
raised his hand and the phone left her grasp, flew across the room, smashing
against the wall.
    “Hey!” Rachael cried. “You
can’t do that.”
    “Do not call for help. Humans
cannot see me unless I wish them to do so.”
    “But I can see you.”
    “You have the gift of the sight,”
Galaden said.
    “But Phoebe saw you, too.”
    “Phoebe is descended from
Freya, the goddess of love, war and death. Whoever owns her develops great
strength and power." He grimaced. "Agrat will become unstoppable when
he learns this.”
    Since when were humans
descended from mythical gods?
    Rachael didn’t know what to
believe. Instead, she put her hand on the angel’s forehead, which was hot and
feverish. Did angels suffer delirium? He sure wasn’t talking sense. If he
didn’t want medical help, that was his right, but she had to do something.
“Don’t speak anymore. Phoebe has a first aid kit in her bathroom. I’m going to
clean you up.” She ran to the bathroom, pulled down the first aid kit from the
top of the bathroom cupboard and a fresh towel from the rack, grabbed a plastic
bowl from under the kitchen sink, then filled it with water and added a few
drops of antiseptic.
    She wet a sponge and gently
wiped his chest, clearing it of blood down to his hips. A linen robe covered
him there, which was belted by a shiny metal binding to hold it in place. In
the early morning light that shone through the sheer blind, his body looked
silvery. As she cleaned off the blood, she allowed herself the pleasure of
observing the contours of his torso. He wasn’t stacked with muscle; just shy of
six feet, he was lean like a runner, beautifully formed with long musculature.
    She had the strangest
sensation that she had tended to this angel before.
    Picking up the plastic bowl,
she rinsed it out, washed her hands and brought the bottle of disinfectant