Savior From Hell

  Savior From Hell

  Demon Brotherhood I

  Avery Rae

  ISBN: 9781981061044

  Copyright © 2018 by Avery Rae

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  1. Priscilla

  2. Gael

  3. Priscilla

  4. Priscilla

  5. Priscilla

  6. Priscilla

  7. Gael

  8. Priscilla

  9. Priscilla

  10. Priscilla

  11. Priscilla

  12. Priscilla

  13. Priscilla

  14. Priscilla

  15. Priscilla

  16. Priscilla

  17. Gael

  18. Priscilla

  19. Gael

  20. Priscilla

  21. Priscilla

  22. Priscilla

  23. Priscilla

  24. Gael

  25. Priscilla

  26. Priscilla

  27. Priscilla

  28. Epilogue

  Follow Avery Rae

  1

  Priscilla

  I woke to fire. A deep, burning ache that roared throughout my body. My eyes flew open as a strangled gasp forced its way from my throat. Everything was dark and blurry, and my eyes were so dry that they stung. Unable to withstand the added pain, I clenched them shut again.

  Where am I? What's happening to me?

  My last memory was of dying. I had been walking home from a late dinner, alone as usual, when it happened. I couldn't piece together who or how, but I remembered the first blow to my head. The crack of my skull against asphalt. The sound my teeth made when they broke apart like rocks smashed by a sledgehammer. Then I was staring up at the night sky, lying in a pool of blood, taking ragged breaths. Then there was nothing. No light, no darkness, just . . . nothing.

  Yet here I was. Alive. Had someone found me in time? I was in a bed now. I thrashed against the soft surface, desperate to escape the burning that coursed through my veins. Was I in a hospital? What had they given me? Why did it hurt so much? I jolted up from the mattress with a shout as it seared me from the inside out. Hands as strong as vices clamped down around my wrists.

  "Stop moving, Priscilla," a man said. "You'll only make it worse."

  "Let me go." My voice was hoarse. "I need to get out—I need—" The pain unbearable, I screamed and arched up from the bed and tried to twist away from his hold.

  "You have to stay still," he repeated.

  I cried out from frustration and pain. I pulled against him and curled my fingers up to scratch at his hands. Anything to make him let go. But he wouldn't, no matter how much I struggled. Why would he torture me like this? I couldn't take it any longer. I needed to get away. With a burst of strength I didn't know I had, I jerked a knee up and slammed it into his chest.

  "What the hell? I'm trying to help you."

  His grip eased. I jerked away from him and launched out of the bed, blind and panicking. I landed on legs that buckled under my weight. I reached out and latched onto the first thing I found, knotting my fingers in soft fabric that covered a hard surface. Muscle. I stiffened as hands found their way to my waist to steady me.

  "Don't touch me." My heart beat in rapid little jumps as I tried to pull away, but a sharp pain tore through me once more. I doubled over with a cry, digging my fingers deeper into the fabric. He led me back to the bed and sat me on the edge. I hunched over, my head held up by the man's chest. I sat there like that for some time, waiting for the burn inside me to die out. Before long, each breath came easier than the last and calmed my frantic heartbeat.

  "I told you to keep still," he said quietly. "You're not fully healed yet."

  Healed? I ran my tongue over my teeth. They were all perfect. I knew they couldn't be mine even if they felt like it. Those had been shattered. Dental work then? That was going to be expensive. Although exhaustion left me lethargic, nothing else was hurting anymore. That surely meant I'd been comatose for at least a month or so. Am I fully recovered then? What about all that pain just now?

  I briefly wondered if anyone missed me, but that was silly. I knew the answer. I had put such distance between myself and everyone else that I didn't doubt it would take months for them to notice. Was I still in the hospital? I'd hate to think I had just assaulted a nurse or a doctor. I pried my eyes open and was relieved to see my vision was finally clearing.

  "How long have I been in the hospital?" I asked with a sigh.

  "You're not in a hospital. You're in Hell."

  "I mean, I will be when I get my bill," I replied dryly as I lifted my heavy head to look at him. My vision lagged behind my eyes as I trailed them upward. First, I saw the stark outline of a square jaw, then full lips set in a harsh line. High cheekbones. And his eyes—What the hell is wrong with his eyes?! My heart thundered in my chest as I yanked myself away from him. I stumbled back, crashing into a solid wood dresser with a wince. He was not a nurse.

  The man grimaced. "Calm down, would you?"

  "Calm down? Your eyes are—are—wrong." They were a cross between orange and red, and they glowed like embers. I shoved trembling hands through my long hair, fingers catching on knots.

  "Am I hallucinating?" I pulled my hands out and held them in front of my face, waiting for them to do something strange. "Is that what this is? Wait, am I still in the coma?"

  He ran a hand along his jaw as he took in a deep breath through his nose. As if he had any right to be getting irritated. "You're not hallucinating and you're not in a coma. You're in Hell, like I told you."

  But Hell isn't real. Right? No matter how hard I tried to convince myself it wasn't, fear shot through me. What if it is? Am I really that much of a degenerate that I died and got sent here? Despite the jitter in my nerves, I forced myself to look at him. "What are you?"

  "I'm not a what, I'm a who—Gael, for your information." He paused before grudgingly adding, "And I'm a demon."

  Oh, come on. A stunned laugh burst out of me, cut off by a cramp that seized my stomach. My voice strained, I looked up and said, "Hilarious. You really sold that. So, are those contacts? Seems like a weak demon costume. You wear it well though."

  I sounded like an idiot and I knew it, but I was trying to buy time. I was stupid for even entertaining the idea that I was actually in Hell. This guy was clearly insane. Shame, too, because he was crazy fine as well. Oh God, corny humor—my ultimate coping mechanism. Calm down, self. Keep a level head.

  I kept my breathing steady as I scanned the area around me in short bursts, hoping to find a way out. Where is this place? A basement? There were no windows. The walls were black, polished stone. The floors were the same. The furnishings were made of cherry wood. A fireplace flickered lazily on one end, lending the room its only light. The air was scented by the fire, which left the room incredibly warm, even the floor beneath my feet.

  "What will it take to convince you?" Gael narrowed his eyes and stalked toward me. I stiffened. There was something predatory in his slow, measured movements. His hard stare never leaving mine, he moved so close I frantically dug for memories of that self-defense class I took exactly once when I was twenty-four. There was also the kickboxing class I started taking after my twenty-ninth birthday this year. But that wouldn't be of much help, would it?

  I had been determined to get into shape for my thirties. Like most things in my life, that lasted a grand total of six and a half classes. On second thought, maybe fighting a musclebound Satan worshipper is a bad idea. I flattened myse
lf against the dresser and started spinning my brain for ways to book it out of here. Far, far away from the pretty but mentally unstable man who thought himself a demon.

  "You were dying less than twenty-four hours ago." Gael leaned in closer and placed a hand on the dresser behind me. His eyes were stunning up close. They were so bright and they looked so real, as if there were flames flickering around his pupils. He erased what little distance was left between us and my heart crashed against my chest.

  "How do you think you're standing here now?" he asked.

  This guy is obviously dangerous, Priscilla. Stop. Staring. I shook the fog from my mind and shoved against his chest, sending him back a step. "What's your deal? Are you trying to seduce me into agreeing with your half-cocked bullshit? We're not in Hell and you're not a demon."

  "Seduce you? You wish." He lifted an arm, then a hot air balloon was suddenly in my face. Specifically, the stock photo background of my cell phone. My eyes widened. There was no service, and the battery was nearly gone, but the time was still steadily ticking. It was five in the evening, the day after I died.

  "You see that? Not even a full twenty-four hours. This is happening. The sooner you accept that, the better," the self-proclaimed demon said with unwarranted annoyance. "You have more important things to think about. Like the fact that my blood saved you, but not without a cost."

  "Your blood? Did you give me a transfusion all by yourself?" I threw my hands up in the air. "You seriously think I'm going to believe any of this? Tell me what's really going on. If you think this is funny, I'm not—"

  "See for yourself." Faster than I was able to react, he reached out, grabbed me by the shoulders, and whipped me around. All my fury died in the face of overwhelming confusion. I faced a mirror. What in the world? That body didn't look like mine at all. I took a step closer and the foreign body moved along with me. Oh my God, that's really me?

  Even though dirt and blood smudged my skin, my body looked strong and healthy. The oversized T-shirt that ended at my bare thighs revealed muscle definition I'd never had before. I trailed my eyes upward as I touched my hand to my stomach. It was flat yet muscled. Definitely not from any effort on my end. My old stomach had a permanent pooch because I drew the dieting line at giving up potato chips. I slid up one of the baggy sleeves to see that my arms were just as sculpted as my legs. How is this even possible?

  I followed my black hair, now a frizzy and knotted mess, from my strong shoulders to my face. The shock and wonder in my expression faded in an instant. The eyes that stared back at me glowed orange and red. Gael moved closer behind me and I snapped my focus to him in the mirror. Our eyes were exactly the same. His eyes. I have his eyes.

  "What did you do to me?" I asked, fighting to keep my voice steady.

  "I saved your life."

  "By turning me into a . . . demon?" It was hard to get the word out. It sounded ridiculous.

  "Yes. It was the only way."

  "But why?"

  "It wasn't your time."

  Could he be any more cryptic? I don't understand any of this. I touched my cheek and found my tan skin warm, almost as if I had a slight fever. I dropped my hand, shook my head, then looked away from the mirror. This wasn't real. There was no way.

  My mind circled back to being in a coma or some sort of morphine-induced trip. Can morphine even do that? Maybe I was still lying on the ground dying as this bizarre nightmare ushered me off my mortal coil. My breathing quickened as my thoughts chased each other around and around, desperate for any explanation but the one he was giving me. I couldn't be a demon. I couldn't be in Hell. I gripped the edge of the dresser, taking in short gasps of air. I wasn't someone who thrived on the unknown. The thought of not being in control made me—Oh God, I'm hyperventilating.

  "I need air." The words came out in a rush. "I need air now."

  Head still shaking, I backed away from the mirror and pushed past Gael. There was a large sliding door made of a solid slab of bronze metal. I rushed toward it. I tried to pull it open but Gael was already there, palm pressed to the door.

  "Don't," he said, voice firm. "You can't leave."

  "Why are you doing this to me?" I searched his glowing eyes for answers as my panic grew. The hard set to his expression told me all of this was serious, yet I still couldn't bring myself to believe him. "I need to wake up. If I get out of here, I might be able to trigger myself awake. I just need to get out."

  "Priscilla." Gael's voice was far too commanding for my tastes. "You're not waking up from this. You can't run from it either."

  "Wait a minute," I said, suddenly suspicious. "If this isn't in my head, how do you know my name? It's proof that I made you up in my mind, isn't it?"

  "This isn't even the first time I've used your name." He stared at me as if I was the stupidest person he'd ever set eyes on. "And for fuck's sake, I know your name because your driver's license was in your purse. Where do you think I got your phone from?"

  "That's just me explaining it away in my head. You're not real," I insisted as I gripped the door's handle tighter. He pressed down harder. I narrowed my eyes, then jerked the handle to the side, throwing my weight into it. It didn't budge even though it was just his palm against the door. How is he so strong?

  "Move your hand," I ground out. "I have to get out of here."

  "You're not going anywhere."

  "Yes, I am." I yanked the handle again, even harder, and the door groaned in protest. The veins in Gael's arm surfaced from the strain of holding it shut. Forget him, how was I so strong?!

  "You think you can just go back Earth-side with demon blood coursing through your veins and live out a normal life?" He tore my grip away. I tried to grab the handle again, but he turned me around to face him. His eyes pinned mine as he backed me up against the door. "I dragged you down to Hell to save your life; now you're stuck here."

  "I didn't ask for this," I replied with a scowl. "This isn't fair. I don't want to be here."

  "Deal with it." He clenched his jaw so tight his teeth ground together. "If you walk through this door, you're dead."

  I let go of the handle and took a step back. "Are you threatening me?"

  "Yeah, you found me out. I saved your life just so I could kill you again."

  "Why even bother saving me? Why me? I'm nobody to you."

  "Fuck if I know. A lapse in judgment on my part." He looked me up and down, his lips twisted in a snarl. "Obviously."

  "Seriously? Go fuck—" Before I could finish, he hauled me over his shoulder, strode over to the bed, then chucked me onto it. "Are you kidding me with this caveman act?"

  I let out a furious cry as I scrambled back up. By the time I managed to get the tangle of knotted hair out of my face, he was walking through the door. I was poised to jump from the bed when I saw flaming eyes peering at me from down low in the darkness outside the door, accompanied by a threatening growl.

  "Remember what I said: you leave and you die," Gael called out from the hallway. "Do yourself a favor and take a shower. It's to the left."

  As the door closed, the creature behind it let out one final growl of warning. What was that thing? I stared at the closed door, wondering what was beyond it and whether I wanted to find out. The scratch of claws against the floor outside the room told me I didn't. I swept my eyes throughout the room once more and groaned. That door was the only way out. If his goal was to make me feel helpless, he had done well.

  I dared to take a peek at myself in the mirror and, despite the warmth of the room, I shivered. The eyes. The strength. The fact that I still hadn't woken up from this supposed nightmare. I really was a demon. And I had no idea why, what it meant, or what would come next.

  The reality of it all landed in my head like a brick, shattering everything I knew and rendering my mind blank. Movements robotic, I got up from the bed. I had decided I was going to take a shower. Not because he told me to. I simply wanted to pretend I was in control for a few minutes. Because I was roughly two seconds fr
om rocking in a corner and mumbling to myself.

  I dragged my feet across the expansive room to an open doorway so tall that it tugged my eyes upward. The ceiling was high enough that I could barely make it out in the darkness above me. As I brought my eyes back down, they landed on an overflowing bookshelf. Apparently, my captor liked to read. Which, of course, made him a well-read demon who saved lives, then held the people he saved captive. This was making more sense by the minute.

  I was about to move on when one of the titles caught my eye. Understanding the Antisocial Personality. I squinted and moved a little closer. Beside it was The Sociopath's Mind. How comforting. I tore my focus away from the shelves and crossed into the bathroom. My heart seized as several torches blazed to life on the walls.

  I pressed a hand to my chest and took a deep breath to calm the stressed-out muscle. I wouldn't be surprised if one more shock forced it to give out. "Jesus, would it kill the guy to install some lights?"

  I looked around for anything else that could send my heart over the edge. Thankfully, the bathroom seemed otherwise normal—aside from the similarly dark and moody theme it had going on. There was more of that same stone. Everywhere. Even the toilet and sink.

  There was a four-tiered shelf carved into the wall that held a stack of black towels and some toiletries, many of which were for women. Unless Gael liked wearing daisy-scented perfume. I picked up the bottle, then lifted a brow at it. It happened to be my favorite.

  "Bring ladies down to Hell often, do you?" I muttered as I stalked over to grab a towel. I really hoped this wasn't some captive damsel thing. He had chosen the wrong woman if that was the case. Because I had no plans to play nice.