His Dark Bond Read Online Free PDF Page B

Anything that’s missing, I’ll get for myself. I don’t want your handouts and—news flash—my soul’s not for sale.”
    His business hand, the one that had never let go of a knife, came up, and she felt her heart stutter. She didn’t want, she realized, to die.
    The knife flashed, but that hard edge wasn’t headed her way. No, it was moving toward the muscle-bound male loping through the shattered doorway. A big, hard, mean fighter with the cold eyes of a stone-cold killer. Not half as bad, however, as what he chased into her auditorium.
    The noise should have been her first clue, the inhuman growling of a predator who’d scented prey. The second was the darkened face and twisted, brutal jut of the male’s jaw. Her mind was cataloging the features, tracking the male’s bloodline, even as the words came out of her mouth. “Oh, my God,” she said. “He’s one of you.”
    “Not anymore,” her strange protector said. “Now, he’s rogue.”
     
    Any killing done here in this room, Zer was doing it.
    Primitive instincts he hadn’t known he possessed roared for him to protect her. She wasn’t safe, and that made him unexpectedly angry. He was going to make things safe for Nessa St. James, and killing this rogue was just the first step.
    “No worries, darling.” Palming his blades, Zer threw. “Time to break up this party.”
    Before Zer was halfway up the aisle, the rogue launched his counterattack, snarling as he pulled a fyreblade. Only Dominions, first-line angelic defenders of the Celestial throne, were supposed to carry those blades—and only in the Heavens. This was the second fyreblade Zer had seen in as many months. Someone who clearly hadn’t gotten the memo had boosted a load of forbidden weapons—and distributed them to the lowest of the low. The rogues.
    The blade landed and bit at his flesh, the angelfyre leaping from blade to wound, burrowing through the thick leather of his duster. Blocking the pain, Zer reached for the cold discipline he’d mastered in another lifetime when he’d fought for what was right and what was good. Pain didn’t matter, only defeating his opponent. No way this motherfucker was leaving the auditorium. One quick glance upward showed that that direction was no option, even if the rogue had himself a pair of wings. No windows, just too-narrow skylights.
    The rogue slashed down again with the blade, forcing Zer to feint. “My soul, Fallen,” it hissed. “Nessa St. James comes with me.”
    Yeah, well, Zer wasn’t in the market for leftovers, and he sure as hell wasn’t sharing this new female. He’d always hunted for himself. Before, a little voice mocked in his head. Flowing smoothly from one defensive position to the next, he brought his own blade up to block the next lethal downward stroke. That blade hit deep—hell, if it hit the leather of his duster one too many times, he was toast. Eventually, those blades cut straight to the soul.
    He countered smoothly, pushing the rogue backward with sheer, brute force. This time, the rogue’s fyreblade sliced cleanly through the expensive leather coat. For the second time. Fuck it. He was done playing. He’d liked that coat.
    Vaulting over the rogue’s head, he positioned himself between the rogue and the professor. She swore and wisely backtracked behind the lectern.
    Zer slashed left and right, blades dancing in his hands. Circling, he waited for his opening.
    His own inner rogue too close to the surface, he could feel his features growing darker, more savage. Michael’s curse threatened to devour the Fallen angel and leave only the rogue. No more squeaks from his human companion now. Instead, she was staring, and she wasn’t watching the rogue charging back up the aisle.
    No, she was staring straight at Zer.
    Zer knew what she was seeing, and he scared the shit out of himself, too.
    “Head for the door, baby,” he growled, scooping up her laptop and throwing it to her. She caught it like he’d thrown her