Dragon's Storm (Legion Of Angels #4)(18)

“And marking your property,” I said in a whisper.

“He’s telling Colonel Fireswift to piss off and leave you alone.”

I looked at Nero.

“I told you Fireswift’s scent was all over you. He must have marked you during training.”

I shook my head slowly. This was not happening.

“He was sending me a message. I had to respond.”

“Why…” No other words came out. Colonel Fireswift had marked me. Just to annoy Nero.

“Angels do this sort of thing all the time,” Damiel told me.

This was unbelievable.

“By marking you, Colonel Fireswift was declaring you to be one of his,” Damiel said. “Like his children. Under his protection.”

I felt sick. I’d seen firsthand just how well Colonel Fireswift treated his son. He’d tortured him to teach him a lesson. I didn’t want his so-called protection.

“Nero had to respond,” Damiel continued.

That was angel logic at its finest. And thanks to that dubious logic, I was now caught in a power struggle—a mind game—between an angel who wanted to kill me and one who wanted to claim me.

“How does an angel mark someone?” I asked Nero quietly. If I didn’t whisper, I’d scream. I was surprised by how steady my voice was, how calm. Nero looked surprised too. He must have expected me to blow up at him. That might still come. I was so furious.

“Through a blood exchange usually.”

Colonel Fireswift had thrown me against the wall. I’d bled from multiple places. And he’d hit those wounds. He could have put his blood into me that way.

“But there are other ways,” Nero said.

“Sex,” Damiel told me. “He means sex. Plus a blood exchange on top of that. That’s the recipe for the strongest mark. A mating mark.”

“Your blood is in me,” I said to Nero.

“I drank your blood and changed it, giving it back to you when you drank from me.”

I knew that blood exchange had felt different than the ones before. Better. No, not better. I didn’t want it to be better. Nero had done this without asking me.

“So Colonel Fireswift marked me as his property to piss you off, and you decided to do the same?” I said. “I’m not a bone you can fight over. I’m a person.”

“He wanted every person you met to think you belonged to him.”

I gritted my teeth. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about that psychopath and his games. Let him mark me up all he wants. That doesn’t make me his property.”

“You are naive, Leda. In our world, it means exactly that. If I didn’t challenge his claim, I would be accepting it.”

“So you just marked me without asking?”

“As your reaction proves, you were not going to be reasonable about this.”

“I am no one’s property,” I snapped. “As soon as I get back to the Legion, I’m going to find a potion to remove this mark.”

Damiel chuckled. “There’s nothing on this Earth that can remove an angel’s mark. Nothing but another angel’s mark. Or the mark of a god.”

“Then how do I get it off?”

“You can’t,” Damiel said. “This happens all the time. Angels marking their family, their mate, those they wish to protect. I’m surprised Nero did it, though. He thinks himself above such things.”

I frowned at Nero. “Well, it looks like he’s not above anything.”

“Be silent. You’re not helping,” Nero told his father.

I jutted my finger in Nero’s face. “Remove your mark from me.”

Nero glanced down at my finger. “As my father said, it doesn’t work that way.”

“You’re intelligent, creative, and determined. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“There is nothing. And even if I did remove my mark, Fireswift would just mark you again.”

Despair stretched my lips into a hard smile. “He’s going to do that anyway when he sees me, isn’t he?”

“My mark is potent. I was quite thorough.”

An involuntary shiver shook my body at the memory of just how thorough he’d been.

“Unless you sleep with Fireswift, he won’t be able to cover Nero’s mark,” Damiel added helpfully.

The thought of sleeping with Colonel Fireswift made me ill. He wasn’t a bad-looking guy. Like all angels, he was beautiful. But that beauty could not hide the ugliness inside. He had the personality of an assault rifle.

“This is ridiculous. I’m not some tree to be peed on,” I declared.

“Actually, an angel’s mark is considered to be a pleasant scent. Some consider it an aphrodisiac,” Damiel said.

I scowled at him.

“This is why I won’t ever accept your help,” Nero told him. “Your help isn’t help at all.”

“I could mark you myself if you don’t want to be caught in the middle of their power struggle,” Damiel offered. “My magic is stronger than theirs. It’s unlikely either of them will be able to cover my mark.”

A gust of magic and feathers shot past me. Nero grabbed his father, hurling him across the room. Damiel somersaulted in the air, slowing down. His wings burst out of him, and he hovered there for a moment. Nero shot straight up into the air, tackling him hard. Damiel’s back hit the ceiling with a wretched crunch. The angel didn’t seem to notice. As fast as lightning, he slipped out of Nero’s grasp, circling around him. He slammed his hand against Nero’s shoulder. A sharp crack signaled that Damiel had broken his shoulder. Three more cracks sounded as Damiel snapped three of Nero’s ribs.