Hellbound Warrior: (Dark Warrior Alliance Book Five) by Brenda Trim, Tami Julka Page B

happening to Rhys. He had been severely injured and she had no idea how he was still moving.
    Besides, it wasn’t that she was a stranger to violence. Her father and brothers were warrior angels and killed demons daily, but she hadn’t witnessed any of it. In fact, she had not witnessed aggression of any kind before coming to the Underworld and now it seemed she couldn’t escape it.
    Placing her hand over her mouth and nose to drown out the overwhelming smell of death and decay, she kept pace beside Rhys as best as she could. She hadn’t thought there was anything worse than the constant hurricane winds of the previous circle, but she had been wrong. The icy rain was so much harder to deal with and the cold went straight to her bones.
    Thank God they had given her clothes and shoes. She would be a popsicle right now if they hadn’t given her protection from the elements. It also had the benefit of hiding her missing wings. If Beelzebub got wind of her being in his dimension he would send his legion to search for her.
    Shivering, she pulled Rhys’ jacket closer around her body. She had to work twice as hard to lift her foot out of the mud and take the next step. The walk through the sludge was slow-going and miserable. Not only was it difficult to take the next step, it was weighing on her conscience to keep moving. The angelic part of her wanted to stop and bring happiness to these poor souls who were shoveling the gunk into their mouths. That was who she was, what she was all about, yet she didn’t stop. She kept going because all she could think about was not freezing to death. If she didn’t survive, she’d never bring happiness to anyone ever again and that’s what gave her the willpower to keep moving.
    After what felt like an eternity they made it to a city of sorts. The rains hadn’t let up and the ground resembled a swamp. When they came upon houses on stilts, it reminded her of the bayou near New Orleans. She had worked with an orphaned child in the bayou and his house was very similar to the shack-like appearance she saw here.
    They were made with planks of dark wood and had corrugated metal for roofs. Wooden shutters were closed over windows and it was hard to tell if there was glass behind the closures. She had not seen a single glass window during her time in Hell, but it may be different in the Third Circle. The porches were lacking the old rocking chairs she’d seen in New Orleans, but were just as rickety looking.
    The houses weren’t built in any type of a discernable pattern and she didn’t see any streets. Just endless muddy ground and structures scattered throughout. It seemed as if they had been placed here or there with no rhyme or reason.
    “Which house do we approach?” Kellen asked, peering around the large wooden posts that supported the houses. Kellen was big, muscular and menacing. If she’d seen him walking down a street she’d cross and walk on the other sidewalk, he was that intimidating. These men were so hyper vigilant she doubted anyone could get the drop on them.
    “Let’s see if we can catch a glimpse in one of the windows and see what’s inside. I’m not in the mood to party with dagons . I forgot to bring a seafood dip to share and I’m off the menu unless you’re a sassy little angel,” Rhys murmured suggestively.
    She patted his chest, ignoring the feel of his firm muscles. “So, are delusions a common thing when your inner demon needs to be fed?”
    Rhys’s nostrils flared as he leaned closer. She heard him take in a deep breath. “No delusions here, Luscious. You can’t hide how much you want me,” he challenged.
    Stiffening, she moved away and wondered what she smelled like, her irritation mounting. She hoped it was unpleasant because the man annoyed her. Problem was she wasn’t certain her irritation was directed at him. “Keep dreaming,” she huffed and climbed the makeshift ladder to the porch. The rope and wood swayed in the slight wind and was