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My breathing turned flat, choppy. My thoughts all went sideways, like someone had tilted the board of my mind, and now all the playing pieces went careening over the side.
I couldn’t think, couldn’t reason, couldn’t feel anything but an all-consuming rage ravaging through me. Pulling my dagger, I whirled around with a choked-back scream and swung right for Eloa.
As inebriated as she was, she couldn’t even raise her own weapon. Only stared with wide, glassy eyes as my blade came down on her.
But I didn’t aim for her heart. Didn’t want to knock her out.
Instead, I stabbed her right in the face.
The first strike, a bit messy, went through her cheek.
The next hit her eye, half blinding her like she’d done to Azazel. The dagger probably sliced into her brain, because she convulsed, her movements becoming erratic as if I’d hit some nerve.
I didn’t stop.
I kept stabbing her, in her face, her neck, all over her chest, blood spraying and showering me with sickening warmth, but I couldn’t let up. My voice was hoarse from yelling in rage-driven lust for revenge by the time she didn’t even move anymore.
I’d probably hit her heart and knocked her out at some point.
I was crouched over her with one knee on her torso, the blood-dripping dagger in my right hand, when I heard him.
“Zoe,” Azazel rasped. “You got her. You can stop now.”
I sucked in a shaky breath. My need for vengeance, for blood, didn’t feel quenched. It still pulsed within me with enough force to make me tremble.
“It won’t get better,” Azazel said as if reading my mind, his voice barely more than a croak. “Stabbing her more won’t make the feeling go away.”
I was ready to prove him wrong, but some sliver of reason did pierce my wrath-warped brain. We were on a tight schedule. I didn’t have the time to exact the kind of revenge that I swore would make me feel better.
But I wouldn’t allow her to just walk away either.
I sheathed the dagger and drew my sword, then I stood up and grabbed Eloa by her hair, lifting her half off the ground. If I’d been a human, this move would have been near impossible for me, but with my angel strength, it barely strained me.
I stepped back a little while still holding her up by her hair, and then I swung my sword in a move fueled by the shrieking fury still clawing me bloody on the inside.
The blade sliced cleanly through her neck, severing her head from her body in one fell swoop.
The next moment, Eloa dissolved into sparks of light, her clothes falling to the floor.
I let my sword hang by my side, staring at the spot where she’d been while I sucked in air in huge gulps.
“Now that,” Azazel muttered, “is a visual I’ll come back to when we’re out of here.”
I whipped my head around to stare at him, some of the bloodlust leaving my system.
Even chained and bleeding and half-broken, he managed to crack a sly smile as he looked at me. “Avenging angel,” he whispered.
CHAPTER 21
I choked out a startled, rough laugh. “Perv,” I shot back.
Then I bent to rifle through Eloa’s clothes, finding the key to the manacles and chains.
With my fingers slick with blood, it took me a few tries to get the key into the hole and open his restraints. I did the collar first, relieving him of the pressure of keeping himself upright.
He sat down on his heels with a groan, his head hanging forward.
Next, I took care of the chain connecting his wrists to his feet, then the manacles binding his hands and legs.
