 
# Angel Unborn

## Andris Bear

#### Jezebel Press

### Contents

Nowhere to hide...

Untitled

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue

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Angel Unleashed

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Acknowledgments

Also by Andris Bear
Angel Unborn

Copyright © 2012 by Andris Bear

Cover Photography by Dolgachov and Pasphotography

Used under license from Dreamstime.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

For more information about the author: www.andrisbear.com

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# Nowhere to hide...

Hell has literally come to Earth for one mortal and what's worse, she is expected to leave behind all hope for a family of her own to stand in defense of humanity against the darkest forces of Hell. But when Satan offers her the normal life she covets, Joey must decide if the price of mankind's salvation is worth her own damnation.

Strong-willed Joey Benton is the half-mortal child of an angel with heavenly powers. She has no knowledge of her heritage or the power running through her veins until she meets a handsome stranger who forces her to question her life and the world around her. And she quickly becomes a key player in a battle that will define a victory for Heaven or Hell.

Ursus, a sexy Archangel, doesn't want the responsibility of another charge, especially when Joey is so defiant. Protecting her from Hell might very well be the biggest challenge of his immortal life. But when his feelings for Joey get in the way of his duty, it's a challenge he refuses to lose.

# Untitled

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# 1

My high heels made a steady click on the sidewalk as I left the doctor's office, relieved by the outcome. The neurologist slapped the test results into my hand, looked me dead in the eye, and forced his pudgy cheeks into a smile.

"Joey Benton, you've got a healthy, happy brain." He then ran on as to what the results of my CT scan actually meant.

Long story short—not a bleed or tumor in sight.

I wasn't sick. _At least, not physically_.

I blew out a month's worth of tension and scanned the rows of cars for my own. Parking under a shady oak across the lot seemed a good decision at the time. Now? Not so much.

Thanks to the high summer temperature, I'd look like a Chia pet before I made it halfway there. "Wretched heat."

Focused on rooting through my purse for my keys, and cursing their uncanny ability to not be found, I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings. A low growl sounded and I froze, dread coiling tight in my belly.

_Nope. Not gonna look. Eyes on the prize and keep walking, sister._

Despite the internal warning bells, I raised my gaze with the full knowledge I'd regret it.

I did.

The minute I saw the walking nightmare, I knew Doctor Nimh's reassurances were total shit. Either my gray matter was turning to mush, or I was bat-shit crazy.

Given what I was staring at, it was a fifty-fifty chance.

The monster, creature, or whatever it was, loomed a few yards away. A new layer of sweat broke over my skin, and the hand clenching the strap of my purse slid down the cheap leather with a dull squeak.

I almost turned tail, hauled arse back to Doctor Nimh's office, and demanded an immediate commitment to the psych ward and their most thorough assessment. Or a full lobotomy. I wasn't choosy.

But my legs remained rooted to the spot—scared to run, scared to stay. I hadn't realized I wasn't alone with the thing until it uncoiled—that was the only way to describe it—from its bowed position, revealing a petite, elderly woman. She was frail at best and fighting the air for every breath. My own lungs ached at her struggle.

Apparently taking her asphyxiation as a come-on, the creature crowded closer and skimmed its long, clawed paw down her back in a far too intimate caress. Somehow, and I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't been an unwilling witness, its claws slid into her skin and curled around her spine.

I instinctively moved a back. Part of me was ashamed that I stood and watched her suffer instead of going to her aid. The other part applauded any fine decision-making skills that kept me alive.

She sucked in a raspy, wet breath. Her fingers almost dug into her sternum, as if she could tear into her lungs and let the oxygen in that way, but despite her desperate attempts for air, her lips were already turning an unnatural shade of blue.

The creature pushed deeper into her back, letting out a low growl that vibrated to the marrow of my bones. What was it doing to her? Causing a heart attack? A seizure?

Steadying herself with a hand on the door of an SUV, she doubled over and dry heaved with all the grace—and sounds—of a yacking cat.

My gorge rose in a swift, no negotiating response. I clapped a hand over my mouth and forced the bile down my throat, but the bitter taste brought on another gag, and I spit it out.

The thing snapped its scaled head in my direction. I froze under its reptilian gaze and wished with all my terrified heart for a gun to magically appear in my hand. Or a flamethrower. Anything to deter it from wanting to include me in its snuggle session.

Its snout, a strange combination of matted fur and flaking scales that reminded me of both an alligator and a hyena, twitched as if sniffing the air, and then its lips pulled back in a snarl to reveal pointed, stained teeth.

My pulse stalled. If I pulled a cut and run, I'd have nightmares about abandoning her for the rest of my life. On the other hand, being alive to hate myself wasn't all bad, right?

Though I was confident in my ability to defend myself against another person, I wasn't foolish enough to think I could take on a six-foot, furry, lizard-ish thing.

I was no hero to her distressed damsel.

Unfortunately, I wasn't a heartless jerk, either.

_Shit_.

Before I could think better of it, I shouted my concern for her safety and that she should run. It came out something like, "You stupid ass, get the hell out of there," but the sentiment was the same.

Her head swiveled my direction, her eyes rolling wildly in their sockets until she found me. She stretched out her hand in a silent call for help.

_Fudge my nuts_.

The last thing I wanted to do was move closer. What did she think I could do—die with her?

Yet, somehow, and far beyond my comprehension, she appeared oblivious to the thing clutching her like a carry-on bag. I shifted from one foot to the other, debating the dumbest decision of my life, before racing over, latching onto her tiny, frail wrist and tugging her out from under its grasp.

It was an effective move—if she'd have gone along with it. Instead, she dug in her heels and leaned in the opposite direction.

Thinking the loss of oxygen had confused her, I kept pulling. "Jesus, woman, the dead move quicker than this."

What I didn't mention was that if she didn't mobilize her geriatric ass, we'd both find out just how fast the dead moved—because we would be. The gecko from Hell behind her was making noises to convince me of that.

I edged her around the back of a sleek Mercedes with the plan that, once we cleared the front bumper, I'd toss my resistant gal pal over my shoulder like Santa's sack of goodies and make a break for it.

The problem with that plan was I was no jolly fat man with the strength to do it.

And she sure as shinola was no sack of goodies.

The other problem? That scaly bastard was in hot pursuit. Between the pounding of its feet and the noises issuing from its snout, I was nearing a heart attack myself. Adding to the fun was the old girl's refusal to cooperate in her rescue.

In an attempt to get behind and bulldoze her along, I sidestepped, but our feet got tangled together, and the next thing I knew her forehead was colliding with my face.

Pain sprinted from my eye socket to the back of my skull.

" _Son-of-a-bitch_." The whoosh of something whizzed by my face, and I knew that either it had caught up to us, or the old woman was taking potshots. Crouching, I tightened my grip and continued walking us backwards.

"Stop that this instant." She swatted at me with trembling hands, so I released her. "What do you think you're doing?" She demanded with a lot more indignant outrage than her position warranted.

I chanced a glance over her shoulder. The thing had stopped as well, but its beady, black gaze was holding steady on mine. Why it wasn't attacking was beyond me. I was ready to bolt, with or without her, if one of its scabs so much as flaked in my direction.

"I'm trying to help you." I pointed to the nightmare next to the Mercedes. "You do see that... Right?"

How could she not? Ray Charles could see it at this point.

_Unless there's nothing there, and you're totally out of your fudging mind._

Her gaze scanned the lot, flicking over the beast without pause. She cocked her head. "See what, young lady?"

_Umm, the giant lizard that was riding you like a backpack_.

I searched her face for an inkling of comprehension, something that said, _Look at that ugly bastard! Run!_

Her expression didn't read anywhere near that.

She squinted. "Are you on drugs?"

"Wh-what?" I sputtered. "No, I'm _not_ on drugs."

Things would make a hell of a lot more sense if I were.

She gave me a disbelieving slow burn, clearly under the impression I spent my afternoons sniffing glue.

Heat crept up my neck at her skepticism. One of us was delusional. Maybe it was her, maybe it was me—at this point, I didn't care as long as we got gone in the next zero seconds. I reached for her arm with the intent of guiding her into the hospital. "Here, let me help—"

She jerked out of reach, glaring as if I'd tried to steal the dentures straight from her mouth. "Don't touch me."

"Look, we don't have to hold hands and say grace, but I'm walking you through those doors, got it?"

She didn't get a chance to accept my offer before the beast charged with an unholy bellow.

In what felt like slow motion, I shoved her aside. Hot, sulfuric breath rolled over me, and I knew I hadn't moved quick enough to save myself. In a blink, time fast-forwarded and razor-sharp claws slammed into my chest in a hit that lifted me off my feet and sent me halfway across the parking lot.

Lucky for me, the back of my head softened my landing on a rusty, chrome bumper of a VW van.

Colors burst inside my skull and pulsed to an unnatural cadence that threatened to drag me into unconsciousness. Shuffling sounds had me raising my arms over my head to ward off another blow. Seconds passed with my heart stuttering in my chest. When nothing happened, I lowered my arms and squinted the world into focus.

I was alone. My head snapped left, and then right, as I searched the lot. I slouched and peered under the rows of vehicles, certain the bastard was lurking nearby. Nothing.

Either the overgrown fleabag had kidnapped his hot date and skedaddled, or...

_It had never been there in the first place._

I almost believed it—if not for the skid marks on my arms and legs from coming in hot across the asphalt. The nightmare had vanished, just as all the nightmares before it.

This one had left a hell of a mark, though.

God, my head hurt. I reached around to test the tender spot where the bumper had kissed the shit out of my skull, and then hissed in a sharp breath at the sting. When I glanced at my fingers, there wasn't any blood, so that was a plus.

Ignoring the trembling in my legs, I pushed to a stand. A fresh wave of dizziness threatened to take me back down. I gritted my teeth, commanded my legs to hold, and waited for the world to stop tilting. After a full minute, I figured it was time to get moving.

I braced myself against the van and worked my way to the front, and found the old lady unconscious. Or dead.

She was ghostly pale, her limbs sprawled as if she'd dropped where she stood. Had it killed her? Or had she gotten a good look at her would-be suitor and passed the hell out?

Dread pooled in my belly. I really didn't want to find out she was dead, but I couldn't very well leave her frying on the concrete like a damn egg. I shuffled over on shaky legs, and then bent to feel for a pulse.

As if sensing my presence, her eyes popped open. She shot up into a sitting position with a startled yelp.

"You okay?" My voice sounded like a clogged drain. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Are you hurt?"

"Stay away, devil woman." She took to her feet a hell of a lot faster than I had and, pointing a knobby finger, skittered back between two cars. "Come near me again, and I'll phone the police."

_Devil woman? Police?_ My mouth fell open. "For what? I just saved you from becoming a human carryon bag."

With a final shrieked, "Stay away," she dashed off towards the ER entrance, and then disappeared behind the sliding doors.

"My pleasure!" The parting shot sent another shard through my temple, jabbing so hard I thought an alien would pop out and dazzle me with show tunes.

I listed against the van door, grateful for the shade and that the metal wasn't hot enough to burn off another layer of skin. Another bonus was that the van was too old for an alarm. The last thing my head needed was more wailing.

Dr. Nimh's diagnosis—that stress had triggered these wild hallucinations—was complete horseshit. Stress didn't bring along the stench of an eviscerated hellhound left in the sun for three days, or leave behind six-inch gashes.

I tested the edge of the wound with my finger and sucked in a strained breath. Definitely not a figment of my imagination. I didn't blame Dr. Nimh for coming to the wrong conclusion. Who in their right mind would believe the correct one?

Besides, he didn't have all the facts. I had admitted to the migraines and blackouts but never told anyone that after hours of fighting to catch a full breath, certain I couldn't survive one more throb of my temple or the taste of bile on the back of my tongue, the darkness crept in.

Shadows lurking within the shadows, shades moving in the dark rather than with it. I spent many nights dreading the moment when these specters would grow tired of watching and step out of the blackness, bringing my worst nightmares to life.

Any wonder I'd feared a tumor the size of a Pinto?

The thing I couldn't figure out was why did no one else see them? Even after whatever the creature had done to her, the woman hadn't seen the thing.

It made no sense.

Children had it right—monsters did lurk under the bed, waiting for the moment we were alone. Only they weren't out to scare. They were out for blood.

I dug my keys from my purse, counted to ten, and made a break for it. I dashed to my car, opened, slammed, and then locked the door behind me.

# 2

Twitchy, nervous and desperate for a caffeine fix, I drove straight to my favorite café. If ever a morning called for a high-calorie jumpstart, it was definitely today. Grabbing my cardigan from the backseat, I climbed from my car and let gravity shut the door for me as I struggled into the pink sweater. I loathed the extra layer in the already scorching temperature but didn't want to draw attention to the marks on my chest. Though they could have been much worse, I buttoned the cardigan over them on my way inside where I waited in line with the other addicts.

It wasn't the caffeine I needed so much as the time to gather my wits before heading to work. Not only had I been scared out of my gourd, I had no idea what the creature was—other than _not_ a hallucination. Even though the lady hadn't seen it, she'd felt its influence with every hack and wheeze. And I'd sure as hell felt its strength.

Consumed with the disaster that was my life, I didn't immediately realize the world had gone silent.

Or I had gone deaf.

My vision narrowed yet sharpened. The bitter scent of coffee flooded my nostrils, acrid and pungent, forcing my stomach into a continuous somersault. A foreboding tingle shot up my spine.

A swipe at the back of my neck failed to dampen the feeling.

I took a few seconds to inspect the other patrons in the shop. A few returned my stare while other dead-eyed the back of the head in front of them. One customer sat at a table.

_Clockwork._

I gave him the moniker because he perched on the same bench, at the same table, every morning. Like clockwork. The only thing that changed was the newspaper he read. I'd never seen him in anything but a charcoal overcoat, black slacks, and polished-to-a-shine black shoes. He was as much a part of the décor as the menu behind the counter. Wavy red-blond hair showed over the top of the paper.

As if feeling my assessment, the paper slipped down, and pale blue eyes locked with mine. He nodded, the movement brief and dismissive, before returning to the page.

I faced forward. Because I was a coffee addict and haunted the shop often, I knew most of the guys behind the counter by name. I didn't think any of them were to blame for the creepy feeling because they were too busy filling orders to pay me any mind.

Still, the weight of someone's gaze pushed at the spot between my shoulder blades. I was tempted to spin around with an, "Aha!"

But proving myself crazy to the rest of the café wasn't on the agenda. Besides, spazzing out would grab everyone's attention, not just the spying bastard. I needed a better plan. Of course, if whoever watched wanted me to find them, they wouldn't be hiding, now would they?

Call me Nancy Drew.

_Or paranoid._

I rolled my shoulders and shimmied to expel the nervous energy. The more I tried to blow it off, the harder my gut disagreed.

Goosebumps pebbled my skin. I blamed the air conditioning even though I was far from cold. My teeth started chattering. I bit my tongue and the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth.

" _Damn_ it."

The woman in front of me shot a dirty look over her shoulder.

"Tourettes." I raised a trembling hand. "Forgot my meds. No worries."

No worries except I was about to lose my shit. Not to mention the tentative grip I still had on reality.

"Hey, Joey, how's it going?" asked Brian, one of the college students behind the counter.

"Having more fun than I can stand," I answered through chattering teeth. I clamped my jaw shut and forced a tight smile.

"Oh now, it can't be that bad. You sure look good." He winked, knowing it showcased his dimples, and then moved on to his next customer in line.

The throbbing in my skull intensified. If I didn't get the hell out, I'd land butt up on the floor. And though I was sporting my fave hella cute matching panty and bra set today, I didn't want to showcase those items to the whole café, so I stepped out of line and made my way to the door, muttering one apology after another to the people I rammed on the way.

My legs buckled just as my fingers curled around the door handle. I slammed down hard, and the contact sent shards through my kneecaps and up my thighs.

"Miss? Are you okay?"

"Just need some air," I replied on a half sob, refusing to turn to see who'd spoken. If I stopped long enough to thank them, I'd never make it out the door. White-knuckling the cool, metal bar, I pushed forward and spilled out onto the sidewalk.

My head cleared the instant I hit the sultry, summer air. The oppressive weight lifted, taking the nausea with it, and I sucked in one breath after another.

I didn't give a fashionable fig leaf if I heaved and gasped like a cat choking on a hairball—the air tasted wonderful.

_Screw coffee. I need Vodka._

A hand clamped over my arm and hauled me to my feet. I spun on the stranger, and came face to face with the man behind the newspaper. Ginger brows arched at my feral snarl.

"Thank you," I muttered, smoothing my dress as if crawling out of the shop was something I did every day. "I must have tripped. Thanks again," I said, bending to snatch my purse before backing down the sidewalk.

I was sure he thought me daffy, backing away from him as if he were sporting a clown mask and a machete, but as I'd already cemented my invitation to the booby-hatch, I didn't care.

His response was to frown and walk back into the café.

I ground my palms into my eyelids. If anything, it made my head hurt more.

I glanced at my car parked at the curb. The thought of climbing back inside its sweltering interior made me groan. Why did I buy a black car? Oh, right—because it was the only car on the lot I could afford.

Given my craptastic morning, I figured the fresh air would do me good and, really, why waste half the day searching for another parking space when I could walk to work from here? Finding an open space downtown equated to winning the lottery—it was never you.

After one block, I was sweaty and bitchy. The sun burned high in the sky and bright enough to blind. It did nothing for my aching eyes. Even less for my attitude.

By the time I reached my studio, I was mad enough to rip kittens apart with my bare hands—and I really liked kittens. I jerked open the door and sagged against the jamb, letting the cool, interior air envelope me.

Bless the dude who invented air conditioning. And thank God Bella's, my photography studio, was finally bringing in enough to pay the electric bill every month.

Bella's was half mine. The other share went to my best friend and business partner, Shula Blackfox. The girl was lucky to have me, because she would have decorated the place in a style only Paul Bunyon would appreciate.

Instead, we'd gone with colors that reminded me of an old world baker's kitchen. Couldn't say why as I'd never been inside an old world baker's kitchen.

The walls brought to mind cinnamon buns fresh out of the oven, sprinkled with the namesake spice and sugar. A brown couch and chair resembled a block of dark baker's chocolate.

Shula would think me crazy if she knew I fantasized about food every time I walked through our door. I'd been going for warm and inviting, and baked goods summed that up for me. We made a point to set out a tray of cookies on the coffee table.

"Where have you been?" Shula's husky voice pulled me from my reverie, and I turned to see her sitting at the reception desk.

Sighing dramatically, I gave her a truth she'd never believe. "Chatting it up with what I suspect is a denizen of Hades."

Her slow blink reminded me of an owl. A bored owl.

That's why she was my buddy. She might think me a loony bitch, but she kept it to herself.

"I have errands to run," she announced, uncurling her long frame from the chair. She checked her watch—as if she didn't already know the time down to the millisecond—and scrunched her nose. "I'll be back by noon. That gives us an hour to prepare before the guys arrive."

"What's to prepare?" I plopped on my chocolate-bar couch, sighing as my butt sank deep into the cushion. Laying my head against the backrest, I let my eyes drift shut. "The backdrops and my equipment are set. As are the final twelve coming in today. We need a test shot—so strip them, slap their ass, snap their picture, and thank them for the show." I shrugged and added, "Don't call us, we'll call you."

Twelve studs were coming to model for our somewhat risqué calendar. Every year we asked the usual suspects—policemen, firemen, paramedics—to pose in their skivvies. Even in staid, old Raleigh it was a big hit and helped bring in the dough for Bella's. Who knew the calendar would sell better than ice water in the Sahara? We had fun and made such a splash, we'd continued it for the last three years.

And why not? Who didn't love naked men?

"Brought your charm with you today, I see." Shula grabbed her endless list of errands and headed for the door.

"Hussy, please. It's part of my DNA. I never leave home without it."

A pair of young men strolled past the shop, catching a glimpse of Shula. The taller of the two let out an appreciative whistle. Apparently his buddy wasn't as verbal because he all he could do was gape as they walked by. It lifted my spirits to watch him bean himself good on the light pole.

Shula was a looker. She wasn't pretty, she wasn't cute. Hell, drop dead gorgeous didn't cover it. Half Cherokee Indian and half white-of-some-kind, Shula made a nuclear blast of statements. Between the bronzed skin and raven hair, her navy eyes stood out in stark contrast to the rest of her face.

I'd hate every inch of her guts if she weren't the most genuine, kind person on the planet. Still, all that pretty in one package could give a girl an inferiority complex. Especially given that I was her photo negative. Pale? Check. Red hair? Yep. And I hadn't avoided the spattering of freckles to go along with it. I kept a pixie cut because it was both quick and easy. And it brought out the exotic tilt of my eyes. I may not compete with Angelina Jolie, but I was no Mick Jagger, either.

"Do you want me to bring you anything to eat?" she offered, oblivious to the catcalls. "Once the models get here, you won't have time to catch a bite."

"Food? Oh, God no." I realized what I'd said when her brows inched higher. "Umm...no. Thanks. I'm not hungry. I ate large—had a large breakfast."

_World's worst liar, right here_.

I might as well have painted it on my forehead.

"You been drinking?" she asked.

"What? No." That was the second time I'd been accused of being under the influence of something in one day. "I'm just not hungry."

"That's a first." She picked up the stapler, lifted the hinged lid, and ran a finger along the row of staples. She snapped the hinge and set it back on the desk, her expression one of satisfaction.

"Did you just count the staples?" I needn't ask—we both knew she had. If anal retentive had a physical presence, its name was Shula.

She gave me a once over. "What's wrong?"

I swallowed. "Nothing."

_Everything._

Her eyes tightened at the corners, and I tried not to squirm. Rather than push the issue, she heaved a sigh and glanced at her watch again. "I've got to run if I want to be back by noon. Don't mistake this for a finished conversation."

After a second shady look, she walked out the door with a wave.

I blew out a rough breath and sagged into the cushion. Lying was as hard as it would have been to tell her the truth.

I extended my arms over my head, stretching the tension from my muscles. It worked so well, I was tempted to curl up on the couch and nap. The models wouldn't arrive for another hour, but I had an order that'd occupied the corner of my desk for a week. As much as I despised paperwork, it needed doing and put in the mail before the beefcakes strutted through the door.

With much regret, I left my cozy position on the couch to enter what Shula referred to as the office. I called it The Coop because it made me feel like a caged chicken. Big enough for a small desk, one chair—which had no room to roll—and a filing cabinet.

I'd no sooner sat when the front door chimed. Figuring Shula had returned for one of her lists—girl couldn't go to the can without an itinerary—I called out, "What'd you forget?"

Silence.

I waited another beat for a reply before poking my head around the corner and peering down the hallway.

Empty.

Quiet.

Had I imagined the bell? I didn't think so. Maybe someone opened the door, and then changed their mind?

I backtracked to the lobby, more curious than alarmed. And then I saw _him_. A run-in with an electric fence couldn't have stunned me more.

There before my blessed eyes stood a TDY—Tall, Dark, and Yummy. He was a warrior, Viking, pirate, and a mythical God baked into one perfect, decadent confection, and holy damn on a pogo stick, would he sell the shit out of our calendar.

I restrained the urge to jump up and down, clapping my hands with glee.

Hair blacker than shadows in a cave grazed his collar, framing a chiseled face. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, but with that jaw line and those lips, I didn't care if he _had_ eyes. His nose led a straight line to a delectable pout.

We stared at one another for seconds that lasted an eternity. Hidden behind those sunglasses, I felt his gaze raking over me.

_Sweet, merciful Jesus, let him be my birthday present._

The fact that my birthday was in early April, and the calendar read mid-July meant nothing.

"Uh..." I swallowed on a mouth gone dry.

Dismissing me, he turned to study the photos on our display wall. His black t-shirt was stretched over a back broad enough to park my car. And dear God, his jeans, worn low on lean hips, made me wish I was made of denim. He had an ass so round it reminded me of ripe, juicy apples tightly saran-wrapped.

_Call me Eve, baby._

Holy nuts, what was wrong with me? Here I was, sizing this man up like a pimp, mentally fitting him for the skimpiest get-up I could put together and, for all I knew, he could have been an escaped inmate, looking to fill his murder quota before police capture him again.

Or worse, a door-to-door salesman.

Come to think of it, as gorgeous as he was, I didn't remember him from our casting call. And I'd have remembered this stud. Had Shula switched out one of our other choices to fit him in? Any other time, a change in the line-up would set off my inner control freak.

I was darn skippy with the switch-a-roo.

In my intense survey of his finer points, I failed to realize he'd spoken, or that he was now staring at me with an expectant look on his face.

"Huh?" Oh, good, more of my witty repartee.

"I'm looking for Esther Benton." He removed his sunglasses, revealing glacial light eyes.

"Holy shit." Brain function came to a screeching halt. Someone had whacked me good and hard with the stupid bat.

_Who the hell keeps swinging that thing?_

I shook my head—as if that would clear it. "I mean... what?"

He repeated the question in an I-don't-tolerate-stupid-well tone.

"No."

My man raked a hand through his black, silky hair. "Could you tell me where to find Esther Benton?"

"No... Not Esther. I mean, it's Joey." I gave him my best smile. Unfortunately, it was also my drunken idiot smile.

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh, don't be." I jabbered, nerves revving my mouth to racecar speed. "I'm Joey Benton. I don't go by Esther. Who would? I go by Joey, from Josephine? It's my middle name. I'm Joey."

_Someone, anyone, please shoot me now._

I pressed my lips together to keep from rambling further, stepped forward, and took his hand. I glanced down in surprise at the heat of his skin. He was a walking, talking furnace.

"So, you are Miss Benton?" He asked again, drawing my attention back to those luscious lips.

"Uh-huh." I nodded. "Why don't you take off your pants?"

# 3

My man crossed his arms and regarded me with a deep, uncooperative scowl.

"Um, okay," I faltered, not sure why he was so displeased. I pointed down the hall where my camera was set and ready to go. "So if you'll follow me, we'll take a test shot and go from there."

"I will not remove my pants." His jaw didn't open when he spoke.

"You're kinda missing the point, aren't ya?" Never had a model been more averse to losing his shorts. Did he think to model a snowsuit? How did he expect to make a living with that fine tail if he didn't show it? "Uh, you'll be covered. It's merely a reference shot. For reference? When we shoot the calendar?" I smiled in a most reassuring manner.

His response was a low, rumbling noise from the center of his chest. It did all sorts of fun, tingly things to my belly.

Then it hit me.

"You are here for the calendar. Aren't you?" I asked.

_Please, for the love of all things good and proper, don't say no._

"No."

The urge to turn and walk out the back door was overwhelming. I could imagine what had to be going through his mind, and I might as well have said to him, "Killer ass, my fine friend. Why not bare it all and let me have a squeeze, yeah?"

Since I couldn't abandon my own business, I willed him to walk out the front door without a backward glance. Naturally, he remained, staring at me as if I'd asked him, a stranger, to drop trou.

Oh, wait—I did.

A giggle bubbled up out of nowhere, amplifying my horror. I wrestled that defiant tart into submission, and then swiped my palm down my burning face before meeting his eyes with an apologetic smile. "That was a shocking dose of humiliation, wasn't it?"

His lips quirked up just enough to make me swallow my tongue.

_Holy centerfold! That's a whole lot of yummy._

"Sorry about the misunderstanding." I cleared my throat. "We're shooting a calendar next week, and I'm expecting our models for test shots. I assumed..." Spreading my palms in an I'm-really-not-a-pervert gesture, I let the sentence trail off. "What can I do for you?"

"Nothing," he answered, taking another opportunity to scan the lobby. If he liked what he saw, he hid it well. "My name is Ursus."

"Oh?" It took all my self control not to scrunch my face. And here I'd thought I'd gotten zapped with Esther.

"I am to protect you."

The odd statement brought a chill to my skin. Ignoring the disquiet, I settled on the edge of the reception desk and took a visual stroll down his long frame.

Broad shoulders stretched his shirt to the limit. I waited patiently for the threads to give out and reveal what I suspected was a lean, sculpted chest and torso. True to my luck, the stitching remained intact.

"Protect me from what?" I asked with little interest. I was too busy running shots in my head. He would be a fabulous Mr. February. A heart-shaped box—no, no, no, a _pillow_. A heart-shaped pillow placed in front of his—

"Demons."

The air solidified in my lungs, and my attention jerked to his face. "What?"

"Demons," he repeated.

Despite my body's reaction, I let out a long sigh. Why me? My day had already gone by way of the outhouse, and the clock hadn't struck noon yet. Now the sexiest thing on two legs was punking me? Who the hell spread the word that I was good for kicking?

"You think that's funny?" My frustration turned it into a threat.

"No."

"Well, me either." I snapped, "Get out. Now."

"That is not possible."

"Not possible?" I repeated, incredulous. " _Not possible?_ Oh, it's eminent. This is your one chance to walk out on your own."

"I cannot." He was unreasonably calm considering my heart was beating hard enough to crack a rib. He didn't come across as threatening so much as unbending; a man on a mission.

"If you won't leave, I'll have to call the police to escort you," I warned, confident the threat of handcuffs and quality time with a felon named Bubba would send him packing.

Amusement flickered in his eyes. He slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and then rested a shoulder against the wall.

_Damn it_.

Once the models rolled in, I'd be knee-deep in naked until they were all stripped, tipped, and out the door. I didn't have time for whatever game he was playing.

I threw up my hands, whirled, and grabbed the handset from the desk. My nail broke as I punched in 911, which earned him a snarled, "asshole."

He would vacate the premises one way or another.

Ursus—if that was his real name—yanked the phone from my hand and calmly placed it back in the cradle. Then the sexiest man I'd ever seen disintegrated before my eyes, as if he were made of nothing more than smoke and illusions. Within seconds, he had evaporated into nothing.

"Oh, _shit_..."

_Not the vacating I had in mind._

# 4

To say my day sucked trivialized the understatement. After demon-boy beamed himself back to the mother ship, I shut myself in The Coop and made like a vegetable. Barring the door and hiding in the dark until hell sold snowballs held a certain appeal.

Cowardly, I know, but considering my morning, appropriate.

Ursus' vanishing act played through my mind, a silent motion picture stuck on repeat. No matter how many times I reviewed the facts, nothing added up.

I dug through Shula's files until all twelve of the models' photos sat in front of me. I studied each headshot—twice—and concluded Ursus wasn't among them. Even more disconcerting was the fact that none of the twelve held a candle to him.

_Who the hell was this guy, and how did he vanish into thin air?_

Only Doctor Nimh and his staff knew the results of, or even that I'd had, the CT scan. I'd told him about my headaches and blackouts, but I'd kept the hallucinations to myself. If he had a clue about the creepy mouth-breathers I saw at every turn, he'd lock me up tighter than Fort Knox.

I couldn't fathom how Ursus found out about them, or why he'd taunt me, but somehow, he, a complete stranger, had figured out the one word to scare me more than a loaded gun. The question was why?

If scaring me witless and watching me asphyxiate turned him on, he'd left a very satisfied man.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed until the need to inhale threatened to drag me under. The morning would've been so much better if he'd ditched his pants like a good model and posed for my camera.

But no, he'd gotten all offended over a little bit of skin and gaped at me as if I were a new species of bugs.

_Mentally incapacitated bugs_.

I'd probably never know what he really wanted. Unfortunately, pushing the issue aside didn't erase it from my mind, but my over-taxed brain pleaded rest, and I needed to slip on my happy mask before Shula returned. That woman could see through me as if I were made of tissue paper, and she would run me down until I confessed everything. I could practically see the poster board on which she'd make me chart the whole fiasco.

_God help me._

The back door rattled, jerking me back to the present. A quick glance at the clock confirmed sixty minutes had passed. Eager to share space with someone saner than my current self, I raced from the office with the intent to drop my dilemma at Shula's feet. Whether or not she thought me nuts was no longer a concern—I needed a reality check _STAT_.

And then the front door chimed, and I knew my troubles would have to wait.

Rather than yell something juvenile or throw the hissy fit that was brewing inside of me, I signaled to Shula, who was just shutting the back door behind her, that we had a customer.

With a defeated breath, I went to greet our first model.

By the time our "servicemen" left, the clock read 5:00 p.m. I was tired, bitchy, and starving.

My stomach growled so loudly I expected Shula to call animal control. I should've taken her up on her offer to bring back lunch because the chance to eat had never come again.

I flopped on the couch and settled back against the cushions. My gaze drifted to a new crack in the ceiling.

Oh, good, another problem in need of my attention. I let my eyes drift shut.

I'd spent the afternoon shooting delectable men with the plan to sell their fine asses to the masses. Naked men and money—anything _not_ to love?

Except today, one of my favorite of the year, I'd spent in a numb haze with nightmares come to life flashing through my mind.

Shula exited the office, where she'd probably been organizing Kleenex, and tossed me my purse. "Hungry?"

My stomach thundered again. "Feed me, Seymour."

When I didn't immediately pop up and run, Shula leaned against the glass door, one hand draped over the metal bar, and scowled. "Well, come on already. I'm not carrying you."

"Are you sure? I don't weigh much," I pointed out. "Not for an Amazon such as yourself."

She tapped her fingers on the metal, eliciting a _tink tink tink_ sound.

"You don't love me," I muttered, grabbing my purse to walk out with her. She shut the door behind us and turned the key in the lock.

We walked the short block to our usual restaurant. Since it was early on a weekday, we were seated as soon as we entered.

"What are you having?" Accepting the menu from the server with a smile, Shula buried her head in the list.

"Vodka," I said without considering the other choices. I ordered the same thing every time.

She peered over the menu. "I meant for dinner."

"So did I."

She sat the menu aside and leaned in, folding her arms on the table. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

"No." I tossed her a cheeky smile. "But thanks for asking."

Her expression resembled a frozen lake—unbending and ice-cold. Dang, but she could be an intimidating bitch.

Listing against the back of the booth, I contemplated my options. Did I _want_ to tell her? Yes. She wasn't just my friend and business partner, but my sister. Flip the coin—did I want the one person I counted as family to think my gourd was rotting from the inside? Not so much.

"Come on, Jo. You've been weird for a while now," she prompted.

"Weird?"

She waved me off. "You know what I mean. Ever since your mom died..."

"Yeah." The waiter's approach gave me the perfect excuse to look away from the pity shining in her eyes. It made me queasy.

"Ladies," he said with a charming smile, all his attention riveted on Shula. "Are you ready?"

"To order dinner, yes. Not become it. Put your tongue away, Romeo," I snapped.

_Holy shit, where did that come from?_

Shula shot me a reproving glare, cleared her throat with a small cough, and ordered a Tofu dish whose name alone triggered my gag reflex. I wouldn't touch bean curd with _her_ lips. She blew a raspberry at my visible shudder.

After a sincere apology for my rudeness, I ordered my usual cheeseburger with fries and a coke, toying with the idea of asking him to lace my drink with something heavy, but after what I'd done to the poor kid, he was more likely to pour in a little bleach. Besides, drinking wasn't my thing, and the small part of my brain still in check with reality screeched I'd have to drive home.

Shula turned on me when he strode off to place our order. "Jesus, Jo. Why didn't you just punch him in the nuts while you were at it?"

Big sigh. "I know, I know."

"What in the hell is wrong with you?"

I opened my mouth. Then shut it. Where to start? With a shrug that said _it's no big deal_ , I muttered, "I've been blacking out."

"Blacking out?"

"Yeah."

Shula rolled her hand in a circle. "That's the beginning of your explanation, not the end. Keep going."

"Not much to tell." _Liar_. A truer statement was that there wasn't much I was willing to tell. Avoiding eye contact by folding the napkin in my lap, I continued, "I went to the hospital this morning to get the CT scan results."

I didn't mention the run-in with Hell's beauty pageant contestant in the parking lot. What could I say? I'd seen a five-foot lizard playing piggy-back with someone's grandma?

"Anyway, I thought you should be aware of it."

"Yes. I should." Anger flashed in her midnight gaze. Her fingers tapped an aggravated tempo on the table. "So why am I just now hearing about it?"

I held a stalling hand in the air. "Look, I didn't want to alarm you unless there was reason."

"How long has this been going on?"

_The moment mom died._

"Not long." I swallowed, and then exhaled harshly. "A few months."

"I see." She rested her spine against the cushion. "Did they find anything with the scan?"

"Not a thing."

Her worried expression piled on the guilt. Why did I confess? All it had achieved was to make her question my mental stability, and I was already doing that for the both of us.

"On the plus side, I met a man today," I offered.

She held on to her peeve a moment longer before relenting with an exaggerated brow wiggle. "The sexy doctor give you a scan of his own?"

"No," I said with a shudder, thinking of Doctor Nimh's paunchy stomach and white, bushy eyebrows. No way with a capital _never_. "At the studio, actually."

"Oh?" Again her brows danced. "One of our models? Jake, the cop? He is so hot."

"No, not Jake. Not any of our models. Just a guy. Named Ursus."

"Ursus?" She looked as if she'd sucked on a lemon.

"Awful, isn't it?"

She agreed as the waiter placed our drinks on the table, assured us our order would be up any minute, and got gone before I could insult him further. He didn't even notice the smile Shula gave him with a muttered, "Thank you."

"Anyway, he kinda freaked me out and then... disappeared."

"I don't think I could yell that name in bed." She grinned as I choked on my sip of coke. "Wait, he just left?"

"No," I corrected, wiping the soda off my chin with a napkin. "He _vanished_ , as in Copperfield. There one second— _poof!_ —gone the next. Right in front of me."

Well, that sure cleaned her clock. She sat there in magnificent, slack-jawed glory, all her romantic illusions ground to dust.

_Tell me about it._

With all the stress in the last year, I could write off the blackouts, maybe even the creepazoids, but a grown man disintegrating before my eyes? Not near so forgettable.

Business had picked up since the dinner rush kicked in. People gathered around the door, waiting for a table while others milled along the bar, content to eat on a stool.

My eyes collided with a pair of steely, blue ones. I actually felt my mouth fall open and my stomach convulse as if it'd been mule-kicked.

Ursus leaned back, one elbow on the bar. His gaze cast a lazy circle to Shula before coming back to me.

"Holy _shit_." I snatched Shula's arm as she reached for her drink.

"What the—"

"There he is," I hissed, keeping him in my sights. No way in hell he'd disappear on me again.

"Who?" She asked, prying at my fingers.

"Ursus." _Hello, who did she think?_

Finally, she got on board and turned. "Where?"

"The guy leaning on the bar, staring straight at us."

She meticulously scanned the patrons on the stools before glancing over the rest of the room. If she took one second longer, I'd grab her by the hair, drag her over, and introduce her to the man. Then slap the shit out of her for sending me into a snit.

"What's he wearing?" Her voice had grown pissy too.

"A tutu. Does it matter? He's sitting on a stool, _boring holes into me_." When she continued to search the crowd, I capitulated. "Black shirt and jeans."

"I don't see him, Jo."

Pulse thundering in my ears, I practically leapt from the booth with the intent to march over and slap him across the face, but by the time I'd wiggled out of my seat, he was gone. Again.

I turned a circle, scanning every face in the restaurant. Unease tingled down my spine. "He was there," I muttered.

But not now. He'd vanished a second time.

After several tense minutes, I grudgingly accepted defeat and sat, gluing my gaze to the varnished tabletop. I knew what she had to be thinking. Hell, I'd been thinking it for months. I licked my lips. "I _saw_ him."

"I believe you." The compassion in her voice made me want to throw something. Preferably her. She reached across the table and grabbed my hand. "Listen, honey, with taking care of your mom and her passing, it's bound to boil over. Why don't you take some time off after we shoot the calendar?"

"Say what? I don't need time off. I need—"

_To stop seeing hobgoblins everywhere._

"What?" she asked.

I rolled my head on my neck. "Nothing. I don't know."

Perhaps she was right. The minute we'd opened our doors, I threw myself into the business, lived it day and night. I worked myself to exhaustion because it had been the first permanent in my life, the one thing I had control over, and I focused on it to the exclusion of everything else.

Until my mom got sick. When I was a child, my mom had dragged me all over the country, moving every few months. There were no friends. Why bother, I'd just have to leave them behind when it was time to move.

She'd been running from something, always looking over her shoulder as if she'd expected someone to catch her. My father? The law? I didn't know. And when I'd asked, she'd just smiled and said she liked to travel. Except the constant on-the-go had taken as big a toll on her as it had me.

My entire childhood consisted of cardboard boxes and dingy apartments. Until we moved to North Carolina my senior year, and I put my foot down, refusing to pack up one more time. I wanted a home, friends, and a permanent place in this world.

She agreed, though not without a fight, and we'd settled in to stay. For a long time, everything was perfect. I finished school, built a career doing something I loved with a friend that had grown into family.

Then cancer took my mom in three short months.

Life had been kicking my ass ever since.

The visions started when she died, the first coming on the way home from the hospital. Only fitting that an encounter while leaving the same parking lot convinced me they weren't hallucinations.

Our food came and we both ignored the whole episode in favor of the models, the spreads we'd chosen for each month, and our overall theme for this year's calendar.

We didn't discuss blackouts, invisible men, or aliens. Go figure.

After dinner, we walked back to the studio with a lot of silence. I waved to Shula, tossing off some inane comment about having a nice night, and turned to make my way back to the coffee shop for my car.

Shula touched my shoulder. "You want to stay at my house tonight?"

I hesitated, mulling it over. Spending the night alone sounded depressing, but neither did I want her looming over me, waiting for me to spaz out. "No, I need a little time to myself." My shoulders went up then down. "Wind down a bit."

"It's just stress, Joey. You've been through hell. Give it time." She wrapped me in a hug, and tears stung my eyes.

"I hope you're right." I blinked the wetness away and smiled.

"Aren't I always?" She gave me a gentle squeeze. "If you change your mind, give me a call. I'll be home later tonight."

I nodded, knowing I wouldn't dial her number. She knew it too. She strode to her car and, with one last concerned glance in my direction, climbed in and shut the door. I watched her pull away before tracking down my own ride and heading home.

# 5

I swung into my driveway a little after eight. The encroaching night had chased away the sun an hour or so before, and I wished it had run off the heat as well—eight o'clock at night, and it was still hotter than Hell's furnace.

I rested my head on the steering wheel a moment before shoving open the door. Heat rushed in to bitch slap me in my face. With a heavy yawn, I stepped out of the car and reached over my head to stretch the knots from my muscles. I pulled one instead. Groaning, I made my way around to the passenger side and gathered the work I'd brought home on a whim. Even as my arms wrapped around the pile, I ticked off numerous things I'd let distract me from it.

Arms full, I kicked the door shut with my heel. Not so hot for my paint job, but giving a crap wasn't on the night's to-do list.

By the time I climbed the porch steps, my skin was slick with sweat. And my patience? Nonexistent. I leaned back, balancing the load with one hand while I flipped through my keys for the front door, and then thrust it in the lock.

It wouldn't turn.

I jiggled it before realizing it was the wrong key, and my prints shifted, teetering on the edge of my forearm. "Don't you dare," I threatened, shifting my weight to compensate and giving no shits if my neighbors caught me cursing at myself. I jerked the key out, and then fumbled through the ring for the right one.

My purse slipped off my shoulder. The keys fell to the porch with a jangled flop. Frustrated rage threatened to blow off the top of my skull. "Rat-bastard ass _holes_."

I snatched the ring by the correct key, and jammed it into the lock. A quick flick of the wrist opened the door, and as soon as I stepped into my blissfully air-conditioned living room, the papers slid from my arms to scatter across the floor.

"Shiiit." I threw the purse down on top of the mess, bunched my fists and howled, "Shit, shit, shit!"

It wasn't near as cathartic as it should have been. I sucked in a calming breath, jerked the key from the lock, slammed the door, and engaged the deadbolt.

I gave serious thought to chucking the keys into my garbage disposal and cackling wildly while they were crunched and mangled. But since that would ruin my disposal and screw me in the key department, I tossed them into their usual bowl next to the door.

I did give them one steaming, dirty look though.

_The fuckers_.

Kicking off my shoes with a delighted sigh, I stepped over the layouts as if they were a burning bag of cow poop, and headed for the kitchen. I liked to keep a kettle on the stove, ready to boil my blackberry tea at a moment's notice. The hot concoction was one of my nightly rituals that helped me de-stress.

Chasing the tea with a couple, hell, make it the whole bottle of aspirin topped my agenda, followed by drinking myself into a stupor. It beat blacking out from a migraine. Fingers kneading the stiffness at the back of my neck, I didn't catch the warning zing down my spine until it was too late.

"Do you always work so many hours?"

The male voice brought my head up with a snap. Ursus sat at my dining table, long legs stretched out in front of him all comfy and casual-like.

"What the ever loving hell?" I retreated several steps and looked around for something to defend myself with. Like, what, a loaded Uzi in the corner just waiting to blow him to shit? That would be nice. "Are you stalking me?"

"No. I told you I am to protect you."

"You broke into my house—I need protection from _you_."

How did he get in? I unlocked the front door, so assuming I'd remembered to lock it on my way out this morning—which I had—, he didn't get in that way. The back door wasn't busted in, either. Oh, great, he was probably a master lock picker on top of nuts. "How did you get in here?"

"I shifted."

"Shifted?" Was that thief code for sneaking in through a window?

"Space. When I disappeared earlier, I shifted to another space." He clasped his hands behind his head, openly studying me with those damn light eyes.

"Yeah, okay." I hitched my thumb at the front door. "Why don't you shift your ass the hell out of my house."

He didn't exactly curtsey and apologize on his way out the door. Or move. Rather, his gaze slid down my chassis in a lazy perusal that reminded me of a lion sizing up a gazelle as it loped unsuspectingly into his field.

Lions ate gazelles.

I scrambled for the front door. My heart thundered in my ribcage. If nothing else, I'd make my stand out in the open where it might attract the neighbors' attention. And if I got real lucky, the nosy, old biddy across the street would call the police now instead of waiting until my rotting corpse stunk up the neighborhood.

After flipping the lock I'd secured moments ago, I twisted the doorknob and pulled. Nothing happened. Doubling my effort, I yanked a second time, hard enough to jerk my shoulder from its socket. I barked at the pain shooting up my arm.

The door remained closed.

I blinked at my hand around the knob. Then the deadbolt. Not locked, yet it wouldn't budge. I couldn't explain it, but the very door I'd entered through was now blocking my exit, and I knew he was somehow responsible. I straightened my spine, and then faced him. "What did you do to my door?"

He sat in the same position, wearing the same blank expression, and his stillness spoke volumes to my confinement.

My gaze slid down the short hallway to my bedroom. All I had to do was make it to the door, then I could barricade the damn thing and dial the police. I hoped they tazed the shit out of him.

"Go ahead." He crossed his arms over his chest, and his mouth cocked up at one side. Damn if he didn't look as though he wanted me to run. _The bastard_.

My pulse thumped in my ears, drowning out everything but my mind's command to flee. Except I was certain if I ran, and managed to get out, he'd catch me. No matter how fast or how far, I'd never outrun him.

Given the amused expression on his face, he realized it too.

_What's wrong with you, girl? You're a black belt. Kick. His. Ass._

Saliva tinged with stomach acid filled my mouth. He deserved my stilettos up his backside for breaking into my home and scaring me witless, but my instincts officially declared that idea my worst ever.

"You are of the Blessed Race. You must understand the danger in which that places you."

"Jesus. How nuts are you?"

Probably not the best tactic.

He sat forward until his chest bumped against the edge of the table. "One of the Blessed Race is born of a union between man and angel, a child with one human and one angelic parent." He fixed me with a long stare. "Do you truly not know what you are?"

"Yeah, I'm what you call pissed off." And terrified, which wasn't doing me any favors because the more nervous I became, the more my mouth tended to make things worse. It was one thing to have a sane criminal in my house, but a kook? I so didn't want to leave in several garbage bags.

Uncertainty flickered over him. He wiped his face with an irritated, put out gesture and said, "What about the Beasts? You've seen them."

_Beasts._

Something hot and heavy settled in my belly. Dizziness pressed in, threatening to drag me into its dark embrace. How could he possibly know about them? I'd told _no one._

I spun, my plan to kick the door down or rip it from its hinges, but I skidded on the prints scattered over the floor and toppled face first into the door. Stars exploded behind my eyes, blinding me for precious seconds.

Fear won over reason, it didn't matter that I'd tried twice before, I gripped the knob, twisted and yanked with all my might, and nearly fell on my butt when the door swung inward.

Suddenly, he was there, his thick, muscled arms banding over mine and pinning them at my sides. He lifted me off my feet, and the door slammed shut _on its own_.

I screamed. I writhed. Biting wasn't beyond me. Nor was every insult and threat that sprang to my mind.

All my resistance accomplished was a wrenched back and a raw throat.

He clamped a hand over my mouth, forcing my jaw shut. "Do not yell again."

"I promise I am not here to hurt you," he grated next to my ear, and then slowly lowered his hand from my mouth.

"Oh, you promise? He promises!" Like psychotic murderers didn't break promises every day? Fucking loon.

"How have you survived if you do not understand what you are?" Irritation weighted his tone. "You are _Blessed._ "

"Do I look blessed to you, you daffy bastard?" I slammed my head back, hoping to knock him senseless, or at least break his nose. True to my luck, my skull connected with his chin instead, sending sparks through my cranium.

At this rate, he wouldn't need to kick my biscuit—I was doing it for him.

"Your father was an angel, created by God." He might've released my mouth, but his arms were cinching tighter the longer he held me.

I forced my body to go slack. "I can't breathe, Ursus."

The band around my waist loosened. Nerves made my mouth dry. I licked my lips and did my best to speak in a low, calm tone. "Listen, I've had a day straight from Hades' down under. I'm guessing yours hasn't been full of daisies, either. The last thing we need is to make things worse."

_Especially for me._

"It's called an affliction demon."

"Wh—what?" I'd heard him fine. What I'd meant was, _Shut the hell up. I don't want to hear any more._

"It feeds on sickness and fatigue." His faint words flitted against my cheek. "If you hadn't intervened, the old woman wouldn't have made it into the hospital. And if it had been any stronger, you would be dead."

My heart stalled as if he'd reached into my chest and wrung out every drop of blood.

"I don't know what you're talking about." It held no conviction. How could it—I was lying through my pearly whites.

"Keep fighting me, and you will be unprepared when they come for you—and they _will_ come. I want to help you survive." He paused long enough for his words to sink in. "Now, how would you like this to play out?"

_As a romantic comedy rather than the horror story it's shaping up to be._

"How do you know about the things I see? What are they?" I hadn't told anyone and wouldn't have admitted it to him if it hadn't been clear he already knew.

"Demons."

"You do realize how crazy that sounds, right?" Which, unfortunately, didn't mean _he_ was crazy. Trying to wrap my mind around it, I asked, "How do you know?"

"How do you think?"

Despite his body heat seeping into my skin, icy fingers slid down my spine. "You see them too." Resistance fled, and if not for his arms supporting my weight, I'd have slumped to the floor. In my effort to fight him—and what a resounding success that had been—I depleted what little energy I had, and all I wanted to do was curl into a ball and let the sweet embrace of sleep carry me away. "This is crazy."

"All the Blessed see demons."

I think he meant to reassure me that demon-spotting was kosher for the _blessed_. Color me not frickin' interested—I didn't want to consider, much less embrace, seeing demons on a regular basis. Hell, I didn't want to see them rarely, because I didn't want to see the creepy shits at all.

"How do I make it stop?" Surely he could un-bless me. Right? After four months of waking nightmares, I needed to be un-blessed right now. I'd do anything to get rid of them.

A long moment passed. "You cannot run from this, Esther."

"Joey. Don't ever call me Esther." For God's sake, Esther was my grandmother.

"Joey," he conceded. "Demons are everywhere. Only death will make you not see them."

A heavy sigh escaped. "I was hoping for a different answer."

"If I had another, I'd give it."

My lashes flitted as weariness kicked in. His body gave off the heat of an inferno, chasing some of the chill from mine. How had I gone from pure terror at finding this man in my home to wanting to fall asleep in his arms?

Out of nowhere, escaping him held about as much appeal as digging for clams in the desert.

"You can let go," I mumbled, forcefully dispelling the ridiculous notion I could trust him. "I won't run."

He lowered me to the floor, and I slid out of his arms with ease. Turning so I could watch his reaction, I asked, "Why couldn't Shula see you?"

"I chose not to reveal myself."

I swallowed. "And by reveal yourself, you mean..."

"Your friend did not see me because I didn't allow her to."

"Because you can choose who sees you?" I needed clarification, very specific clarification. "What are you?"

"Archangel."

The word cost me a couple ticks of the clock. "As in God's angel?" I pointed skyward. "That guy?"

"Yes."

"Uh-huh." I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I don't suppose you're gonna drop a punch line now, are you? Just a small one, so I don't have a heart attack?"

Seconds passed without confirmation.

"That was an invitation for you to elaborate, Ursus."

His forehead creased with a frown. "What would you like me to say?"

"That I've been punked. Then I want you to point out the secret camera so we can all have a hearty laugh."

Ursus crossed his arms. "I don't understand what you are saying."

"Ah, hell." My legs were threatening to give out, so I sat on the arm of the chair. "You're really an angel?"

His face scrunched as if to say _are you really asking?_ "That is what I said."

I gave him an absent nod and rubbed my belly. It felt as if I'd swallowed cannon balls, and then lit them. Clearing my throat, I said, "You mentioned my father. What do you know about him?"

"Nothing other than he was an angel. I have no name to give you." He shoved his hands into his pockets.

My eyes narrowed. Really? He knew enough to classify the man as a divine being but couldn't drum up a name? "I don't believe you."

"Yes, you do."

I tossed off a dismissive snort. Ursus, the demons, hell, the Loch Ness monster for all I cared, could take a flying leap. The whole crazy bit made me feel trapped and helpless.

"Yeah, okay. Keep his name, then. Keep it all." With a push off the chair, I grabbed my keys from the bowl and made to leave. I'd go to the studio, Shula's, the grocery store if I had to, as long as it put miles between him and me.

Ursus' grabbed my shoulders and spun me around to face him.

"Hey!" I pushed at his chest in warning. The next time he put his hands on me, I'd shove them up his arse.

He bared his teeth. "I cannot give you a name because mortals are forbidden to angels. Those who lay with a human commit an offense against Heaven. They are not seen or heard from again."

Shock widened my eyes. The idea of Heaven wiping out angels appalled me, no matter the insult. If angels couldn't satisfy upper management, humans were up the creek.

As a child, I'd ask my mom about my father. Her response was always one version or another of him wanting to be with us but being unable due to circumstances out of his control. I'd clung to her words with all the hope in my little body, praying whatever kept him from me would end, and he'd return to us. If I had a dad we could be a regular family and stop running. He never came. As I got older, I realized she'd put a pretty face on the ugly truth—he had never wanted me.

Could I have been wrong? "Say I buy it," I said. "Why are humans and angels off limits?"

"Some of my race find mortals appealing." He took a seat on the arm of the chair I'd vacated and raked a slow survey down my form. By the time he finished, my mouth was in desperate need of saliva. "One mortal female holds more life in her womb than an entire battalion of angels. You have the gift of creation, which is an overwhelming attraction for those without it."

"That doesn't explain why it's forbidden." All this reproductive talk made me skittish. Especially after the way he'd scouted my chassis.

" _You_ are forbidden, Joey. The mortal child of an angel. You walk both worlds, yet belong to neither. You see things mortals weren't meant to see. You know things mortals weren't meant to know. Those gifts are a birthright you were never meant to have."

I told myself to shut up, cover my ears, and run, but why start listening now? "What gifts?"

"You can avoid the darkness others can't even see."

"Uh, yeah. It's not a gift, trust me." If I accepted angels bore mortal children, then I wasn't alone. My pulse quickened. "Are there others like me?"

"Not many," he acknowledged with a slow nod.

Better than none. But it stood to reason if angels had children—I was simply theorizing here, because I wasn't ready to jump in yet—then so did demons. "Are there half-demons?"

"Yes."

"Seriously? Who in their right mind would get down with one of those scaly things?" Its breath alone was enough of a deterrent for me.

"They don't all look like that." His mouth pinched, barring any further questions. Reaching for me, he said, "We need to go."

I did a sidestep. "Go where?"

"We have a lot of work ahead of us."

"What the hell does that mean?" The slight chip on my shoulder—like the size of an F150—wiggled her little ass. "Since when am I on your payroll?"

Ursus considered me. I could almost hear the squeal of his wheels as he debated if I was really this difficult.

_Yep, sure am._

"I just got home, and all I want in this world is a hot bath and a very stiff drink. Not necessarily in that order. I'm not going anywhere until I get that, and maybe not even then."

"You do realize I can make you."

Um, I hadn't thought that far ahead. Given that he had trapped me in my own house, it stood to reason he could just as easily push me from it.

"But you won't, will you? If you wanted to force me, you'd have done it the minute I walked through the door, no question and answer session. No matter how much you want whatever it is you want, you won't make me." Talking out my backside must have been one of my finer gifts. I had no idea if what I said was true, but I hoped for all I was worth.

Resignation drifted over his face, and he let out a heavy breath.

"Oh, come on. Don't look at me like that." Guilt, the damn vulture, settled on my shoulders. "It's not like you dropped good news in my lap. You practically doubled up your fist and smashed me in the kisser with it."

Ursus spun, a low, threatening noise rumbling in his chest. I'd jumped a good ten feet before realizing it wasn't aimed at me.

A man I'd never seen before appeared in the middle of my living room and said, "And what a kisser it is, my beautiful Joey."

# 6

_Want_.

I sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden wave of desire. No, not desire— _need_.

Raven hair framed a sculpted face—sharp cheekbones, full lips, strong jaw. Rich, brown eyes scorched a path down my body, and with every inch his gaze traveled, my skin tingled. I went hot and feverish, turned on in an instant, as if someone had flipped an electrical switch.

"Whoa," I gasped. A warm caress slid up my bare legs. No one had touched me and yet, I _felt_ hands.

My pulse quickened as the petting climbed higher. I unbuttoned my sweater and pulled it off, barely noticing the sting as the cloth dragged across the scratches. The tinkling of metal on metal barely registered at the periphery of my mind as I unwound the silver belt at my waist.

A whimper reached my ears. Mine? Out of anticipation or terror, I couldn't say. Delight at being one step closer to naked tempered my distant confusion. And even more distant alarm.

Ursus curled his fingers around my wrist and tried to tug me closer.

"Uh-huh," I murmured, prying at his grip. Hunger burned in my belly, and Ursus wasn't the one I wanted to nibble on.

He yanked me to his side, pressing us into full body contact. Slowly, the desire overwhelming me began to fade. Not completely, but enough to make me realize what was happening.

With clarity came horror—and self-disgust—as I realized I'd have stripped naked and played peek-a-boo at the first opportunity.

My ribs tightened. "Wh-what was that?"

"Lust," Ursus said. "Control it."

"Right." How was I supposed to manage that when I had no charge over my body? Especially when my body longed not for control but release—to feel the length of this stranger pressing over me, to taste his sweat-damp skin—

Ursus yanking up the hem of his shirt and placing my palm against his side pulled me back to the present. "Keep your hands on me," he commanded, and then gruffly added, "It will help."

_Holy six pack._ His words registered, barely, but each ripple of his lean muscles under my hand was very distracting. Even though I wasn't a pervert looking to accost an angel, I sort of was in that moment. It took every ounce of conscious effort not to slide my hand down his abdomen. "I don't think this is having the right effect," I said.

"Chamos." The word rumbled from Ursus with disdain. He crouched low into a fighter's stance, making me wonder if I should keep my hand on him or get the hell out of his way.

"Grigori," the other answered. "It's been a long time."

The stranger's voice, a rich thunder, rolled through me, tantalizing parts which were better left untantalized. A low, needy moan passed my lips, and I pressed my face against Ursus' back, inhaling his crisp scent. I told myself it was in an effort to get a damn grip, not because he smelled lickalicious.

"How did you escape the fire, Incubus?" Ursus clipped, the timber of his words vibrating through him and into me. "Last I heard you were strapped down and burning bright."

Ursus' belligerence had the strange effect of turning me on all the more. Crude visions of me starring as the main event in a man sandwich filled my head and sent my libido into overdrive. It was confusing and scary as hell.

"Make it stop," I whimpered against his spine.

"This from a disgraced angel? Heaven must place little value on her life to give you charge over her," the Incubus taunted. "They may as well have assigned no one at all."

Every word from the man's—Chamos?—lips took me to the brink of ecstasy. How was it possible to be so turned on to the point of orgasm by a voice? It shamed and sickened me, but that didn't stop the inner slut I didn't know I had from wanting to come out and play a rousing game of tart in the box.

"Ursus," I sighed his name, titillated by the way it slid off my tongue. "It's getting worse."

The angel craned his neck to regard me over his shoulder. "Do _not_ let go."

_Oh, trust me._

Releasing him was the last thing on my mind.

I gave a jerky nod. Unfortunately, though touching him helped, it didn't solve the problem.

It started out as light scratching, but as desire continued to build, I dug my nails into his flesh until they clawed layers from his side. With a hiss, Ursus grabbed my hand and squeezed. Hard.

"I'm s-sorry." I took hitching gulps of air. "I _need_. It's taking all my will not to shove my hands down your pants."

_Please don't let me have said that out loud._

"Joey." My name rolled off the other man's tongue, sensual, and smoother than silk.

"No." I shook my head, and then, against my better judgment—as if I had any in that moment—I peeked around Ursus. "How do you know my name?"

"Oh, beautiful girl, I know a lot more than that. You're very special and soon, the whole world will know your name." He held out a hand. "Come with me. This shamed angel can do nothing for you."

I started around Ursus. He roughly shoved me back with a gritted, "Touch me."

If he only knew how much I wanted to do just that. Him. The Incubus dude. Hell, Mr. Sosh, my eighty-nine year old neighbor was looking like a hunk of geriatric love.

My mouth filled with the sour taste of bile.

_Oh God! Help me!_

I thrust my hands up the angel's shirt and splayed my fingers wide, trying to touch as much of his skin as possible. A satisfied, feline purr issued from deep in my throat at the way his stomach muscles quivered under my fingertips. His scent filled my head, crisp and cool as the air at the top of a mountain, and I didn't care how he felt about this one-sided make-out session.

Ursus wrenched my fingers back from his zipper. "Get a grip on yourself."

"I'm _trying_." I hissed against his back, and then whimpered, "Please, make it stop."

"He can't, Love." With Chamos' words, bliss spiked in my system. I cried out—part fear, part pleasure—as my body rushed to the edge of release.

"Come with me, Joey."

Ursus thrust me backward into the kitchen as he lunged for Chamos. The demon—at least I assumed Chamos was a demon because Ursus had called him an Incubus—side-stepped the attack before throwing a counter-punch.

As if watching an angel fight a demon in my living room wasn't enough of a mind-screw, a sword appeared in each of their hands. Out of thin air. As if a genie had decided to up the stakes and throw in some weapons.

The screech and clang of metal hitting metal boomed in my small house, but the even bigger holy shit? Both swords were nearly identical to the one hidden under my bed.

Ursus' sword boasted a brilliant blue stone set in some kind of silver metal. The one Chamos held was made of a darker metal and had a fiery ruby. I wouldn't normally give two flying fig leaves about swords, but they were beautiful in the way they caught and reflected the light. And they were too close to the one I had to be coincidence.

The floor trembled, and then abruptly surged like a rogue wave, throwing me backward. My hip banged sharply against the edge of the kitchen table and, if I hadn't grabbed on and held tight, I'd have been knocked off my feet when the second wave rippled through the floorboards.

A loud snap sounded over my head, yanking my gaze to the ceiling as a crack split the plaster. I launched sideways an instant before the attic floor crashed down on the table where my skull had been.

My house was minutes from collapsing around us, and these two nuts were more concerned with stabbing each other.

_How long can they go on like this?_

Aside from forgotten Sunday school lessons, nonexistent defined my knowledge on angels and demons. Could they kill each other? Or would they each stumble off to fight another day?

Balls if I knew. What I did know was that five minutes alone with Chamos, and I'd be heading a naked conga line.

I ran down the hall to my bedroom and scrambled under my bed for the one thing my father had left to me. As my fingers curled around the grip, warmth slid up my arm.

I hesitated, put off by the sensation, and then pulled the sword free of its casing. The long, silver blade reflected the light as if illuminated from deep within. The blade was engraved with an intricate, swirling script which I traced with a shaky finger.

My gaze skated up the blade to the sparkling, crystalline stone set below the grip. I stared, mesmerized, as the gem seemed to glow and pulse.

Clutching the weapon tightly, I muttered, "This is some crazy shit," on my return to the hall. I poked my head around the corner to the sound of metal shrieking in between grunts and punches. The chaos in my living room should've sent me screaming in the other direction, but was I that smart? Propelled by some skewed sense of right and wrong, responsibility, or maybe I was pissy they were destroying my house, I slinked across the room on tiptoes to stand behind Chamos.

Ursus, having spotted me as soon as I came into the room, stilled, his face registering shock, then horror. The adrenaline pumping through my veins drowned out his words, but I imagined they went something like, "Look at her handle that weapon. Thank God she is here to save my ass."

Chamos used Ursus' distraction to his advantage and slashed across the angel's chest. Terrified for the angel, I plunged my blade into Chamos' side with a battle cry that would do an aardvark proud.

The resulting howl shook my house. He spun, the movement ripping my sword from my hands and knocking me to the floor. The pretty face he had worn to sex me up melted into a barely recognizable mask. He jerked the blade from his flank, giving it brief consideration before tossing it into the kitchen where it skidded across the tile.

I scuttled back and slammed into the wall.

Chamos stalked forward, eyes alight with hatred as he lifted his sword.

With no weapon to defend myself, I tucked my chin against my chest, wrapped my arms around my head for protection—as if an arm would stop the blade from slicing my neck—and waited for him to kill me.

When I was still breathing five seconds later, I lifted my head to see the demon vanish into thin air. I stifled the blubbering sob that wanted to burst from my chest and turned to Ursus.

He looked to be fighting the need to bawl as well.

His nostrils flared. His jaw clenched. "Where did you get that sword?" he fired, clipping each word.

I glanced at the blade on the kitchen floor. "Uh, it's mine. My mom said it belonged to my father."

Just looking at the damn thing made me want to touch it, to glide my fingers over the cool metal. Except I knew it would be warm, not cold.

"Your _father?_ " The words shot past gritted teeth.

Who shortened his bra straps? I shrugged and lifted my hands in a _you've got me_ gesture.

"The father whose name you don't know?" he asked, a little too nicely. Especially since I could see his fists were clenched around the hilt of his sword.

"Yeah..." My gaze roamed my deconstructed living room for clues to his animosity. I mean, really, who had the right to be shitty here? Did he think I stole the thing? "What's your problem?"

"You." He lowered his weapon to his side. Probably because he didn't need it—his eyes shot enough daggers to bleed me dry. "You are _not_ a Blessed child."

I blinked. "I'm sorry?" I didn't know if I was questioning his statement or apologizing. In the grand scheme of confusion, I supposed it didn't matter.

"That sword belonged to an Archangel." He shot the words at me as if they should mean something.

They didn't.

"That's great. I knew you had the wrong girl." A doomsday weight lifted from my lungs. Amazing how fast things could change. Why, I could've high-fived the demon, so potent was my giddy.

His face turned a thousand shades of red. "It means you are special among the special, and I am in deep shit." He threw his sword to the floor. "Easy assignment, my _ass_."

I felt my jaw drop. "Should you use that language?"

He spun on me with bared teeth. "I am an angel not a saint. Now, shut your mouth so I can think."

I lifted my palms in surrender. He needn't growl at me twice. What was his problem, anyway? It was my life that had been turned upside down and flushed down the can—and even after the shock of it all, I'd still saved him from becoming an angel shish kabob. Was he down on his knees thanking me? Hell no. He was looking ready to rip my head off my neck and slap me in the face with it.

His hands tangled in his black hair, and then dragged down his face. Closing his eyes with a heavy sigh, he mumbled, "Sit."

I considered telling him to sit, on his sword, but in his current state of agitation, I decided that wasn't productive.

"There are nine choirs of Angels split into three distinct hierarchies. The first consists of Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones. They worship at the feet of the Father and the Son. The second contains Dominions, Virtues, and Powers. They preside over the ordering of the universe, such as the weather, the stars, and the destinies of man." Ursus spoke as if reciting words from a teleprompter. "The third, the hierarchy that deals solely with the mortal realm, are the Principalities, Archangels, and Angels."

"Angels and Archangels are not the same?" I asked, growing fascinated despite myself.

"Not at all. Angels watch over a single mortal. They are very loyal, staying until the person's death. Sometimes, the proximity brings about a Blessed child. I thought that was the case with you."

He paused long enough for a dark shadow of foreboding to seep its way into my consciousness. "Archangels are tasked with watching over the duties of Angels and leading the Divine Army. Our abilities are higher, more...potent. Meaning, when an Archangel sires a child, it also has higher abilities. That child is born an Electus; they are Chosen."

_Don't ask. Do. Not. Ask._

"Chosen for what?" I asked.

"To become a warrior for the Host of Heaven."

My boobs caught my jaw. A spit, a sputter, then, "To fight _that_?" I hitched my thumb, indicating the spot Chamos had vacated. A laugh clawed its way free. That angel had lost his mind if he thought I'd strap on a blade and sing Kumbaya around his army's campfire. Not only no, but hell to the _up yours_. "I'll pass."

Ursus shot off another string of impressive curses. "My assignment was to ensure your safety and teach you how to deal with demons. How did I end up with an Electus on my hands?"

I assumed the question was rhetorical but shrugged anyway. He turned away with a muttered oath and yanked up the bottom of his shirt to eye the splash of blood across his chest.

Oh. My. _Gawd_. It came as no shock he was built—I'd been sizing him up for the calendar from the start—but cords of muscle bunched and flexed as he wiped at the crimson ribbon, revealing a perfectly perfect pectoral. Not one blemish or stray hair marred the smooth expanse of skin.

"That was too close." He let the cotton slide back into place and met my eyes with a wry twist of his lips. "Thanks."

I swallowed. Well, I tried—kind of hard with my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.

He stilled under my stare. I attempted to drag my eyes in another, any other, direction, but they were glued to him. My pulse trilled in my ears, a constant tempo that drowned out everything else—most notably common sense. I pushed up on shaky legs, and my breath hitched as his gaze, still annoyed but newly assessing, slid up my body with all the urgency of a sloth. My toes curled, and damn if I wasn't breathless by the time he made it to my face.

I crossed the room on autopilot, transfixed by the way he watched me move. _Shouldn't be doing this_ played on a loop in my head. I stopped before him, nervous, excited. Terrified. My hand shook when I cupped his jaw. His shot out and caught my wrist, and I jumped at the sudden movement.

"Sorry. I—" _totally misread the situation? Couldn't help myself? Am probably mentally unstable?_

Any one of those could have worked because they were all true. But I didn't get the chance to make excuses. Ursus lifted me level to him, and then crushed his mouth over mine.

His taste hit my tongue—sun-warmed, spiced honey—and an appreciative moan slid from my mouth to his. Was that even a flavor?

I fisted his hair and dragged him closer. He threaded his fingers through mine and tilted my head back, ravaging me with his lips and tongue as he pulled me into a possessive hold.

Our bodies aligned perfectly. He was a drug I'd never heard of and yet, I was an instant addict. Anchoring my legs around his waist aligned his arousal against my center, and this time the low, throaty groan came from him.

Next thing I knew, I was falling. I managed to land on my feet but it wasn't graceful. "What the hell?"

"Do not do that again," he warned, swiping the back of one hand over his mouth. He laced his arms, dropped them to his side, and then re-crossed them, all the while glowering at me as if I'd offended his delicate nature.

"What...?" I took a fortifying breath, crossed my arms. " _You_ kissed _me_."

_And oh, mama, was it a kiss._

"A mistake." He spun, retrieved his sword from the floor, and made a show of inspecting it. Like, what, kissing me had ruined the blade?

_Jackass_.

How had we gone from molten volcano to arctic wasteland? My mind didn't change gears that fast. "A mistake."

"Yes," He hissed. "One we shall never repeat."

Oh, well, thanks for putting it all gentle-like. I circled him, raking him over. I made a point to stare at his crotch until we were both uncomfortable. "Listen here, happy pants—you may not be human, but you've got all our parts, and I _clearly_ got a standing ovation."

He returned my glare with one that would do a Siberian frost proud and attempted to move around me. I sidestepped to block his retreat.

"I don't know what just happened, but I wasn't the lone passenger on board, you feel me?" I held his gaze, daring him to deny it, half-hoping he would so I could focus on indignant outrage rather than the Molotov cocktail of rejection, confusion and attraction.

He shoved his hands in his pockets with a mumbled, "I don't know either."

"Well, it must've been left over from the Incubus, right? That makes sense. Right?" If I used _right_ enough, he'd start agreeing with me. Right?

"Sure." No enthusiasm from his side of the fence. "Go change clothes."

What the hell kind of segue was that? I tilted my head to one side. "Why would I do that?"

He crooked his finger at me, and when I leaned in, he whispered, "Do you want to be here when Chamos comes back?"

I shook my head. He grabbed my arm and spun me around, giving me a not-so-gentle shove. "Go. Change. Clothes. Something to cover your... self."

My _self_? My vertebra chinked into a rigid line. "Oh, you mean the self your mitts were all over?" With that parting shot, I grabbed my sword from the kitchen floor, and made for the bedroom.

Then slammed the ever-loving piss out of the door.

"If this isn't the worst day of my life, I should run in front of a bus right now."

This morning, I'd feared a brain tumor. Which in and of itself was a mighty big _oh shit_. Since then, I'd found a father who was a holy warrior for God, and learned demons wanted to snack on my ass. Oh, and I'd performed mouth to mouth on a pissed off, schizophrenic angel.

_Preferably something to cover your... self._

As if my _self_ offended him. He was the one groping all over my _self_.

I would rectify all his problems by keeping my _self_ out of, not only his reach, but his line of sight too. I dug through my drawers, pulling out a pair of hot pink running shorts and a white tank top. If I had anything smaller, I couldn't think of it. I threw them on lickety-split, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

My pixie cut was in spikes. My cheeks were flushed. I glided a finger over swollen lips. Damn, he had a mouth to be reckoned with.

_Dickhead_.

What did he think, that I'd seduced him? Maybe the kiss was a result of the demon's dirty flirty. Maybe it was a genuine attraction. Either way, I'd be damned if I'd take all the blame.

"Mistake, my ass," I grumbled, rooting in another drawer for socks to add to the overnight bag before setting the tote aside and scanning the room for anything else I needed. Giving Shula a heads-up call crossed my mind, but I didn't want to waste time. Besides, Ursus probably had supersonic hearing.

I turned to the window and slid up the lower pane of glass, cringing at its squeaked protest. The screen came off with a small pop and caught the edge before banging against the siding and falling to the ground. I froze, heart pounding in my chest, and listened for the telltale foot stomps of an investigating angel.

When none came, I sent up a quick prayer of thanks with the mental note to thank Shula for badgering me into making several sets of spare keys.

_God bless her anal-retentive heart._

Snatching a set from the nightstand beside the bed, I tossed them and the rest of my load out the window before going through backend first.

It'd be just my luck if he were watching me from the living room window, getting a rumpalicious eyeful. The thought spurred me on faster and I fell the few feet into the bushes. Mentally reciting unpleasant feelings I couldn't give voice to, and slower than a snail on an ice-capped mountain, I pulled the bottom pane closed.

Weighed down by my bag, I bee-lined for my car, intent on taking Shula up on the offer to crash at her place.

# 7

I drove to Shula's only to find the house pitch as night and no car in her driveway.

Just a nice, big, deserted kick to the teeth.

_WTF, Shula? Thanks for the invite to your empty house._

The dark windows seemed to mock me as I considered my options—the most obvious being that I could return home.

_BEEP!_

Wrong answer.

I'd pole dance a cactus before chancing another encounter with _him_ or Chamos. I scrubbed a hand over my face. Sitting in my car or on Shula's porch all night waiting for her to get home sounded about as fun as dysentery. It was hot and the bugs were coming out with the dark. Pile that on top of my exhaustion and my totally unbelievable predicament, and I was ready to start swinging.

So I decided to do what any self-respecting best friend would do—break into her house and apologize later.

As I'd never had a promising career in robbery, the particulars of breaking and entering eluded me. Kicking in the front door seemed drastic. But what about the back?

Though I expected to find it locked as well, I hoped to get lucky with one of the windows and headed that way to work my vandalism. No doubt Shula would give me a lecture, along with a repair bill, for busting in her back door, but I'd take her guff over the irritating angel's.

I crept up the deck steps and jiggled the knob. Locked. Good for Shula, bad for me. I glanced at the window to my right, the easiest to reach. It'd require some fancy stepping. I bit my lip, considered the repercussions of a broken neck, and then climbed on the deck's railing.

White-hot pain exploded in my head. I lost my footing and fell backward. The ground graciously rose to meet me, and I slammed into it, jarring my bones from one side of my body to the other. My throat closed around a scream. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. I could hardly think past the fear I'd broken something vital.

Like everything.

I rolled onto my back—well, flopping was rolling, right?—and gasped as shards stabbed along my ribs. Still, it was nothing compared to the my-brains-are-sizzling-in-my-skull feeling.

I scanned the line of trees that separated Shula's back yard from the neighbors. It'd finally dawned on me the blackouts, and the fun they entailed, came with the presence of... others.

Nothing stood out among the trees, but I trusted the pain in my head over my eyes. Had Chamos found me? My shoulders tightened. Or was something else watching from the safety of thick branches? Why would a demon be at Shula's? She so wasn't into any heaven or hell wonky junk. Then again, neither was I.

_Get out. Now!_

I pushed onto my hands and knees. My guts somersaulted. I gritted my teeth and crawled back to the driveway. Gravel bit and scraped my skin, and I cursed my stubborn hide for wearing short shorts to irk an angel that had no idea I'd donned them. When I finally reached my car, I realized driving was out of the question. What if I "checked out" behind the wheel? Killing some poor sod unlucky enough to cross my path wasn't something I could live with.

But hanging around here wasn't a good plan either, so I inched open the car door and grabbed my sword. Warmth rushed over my flesh, dulling the ache in my head. I stared at the stone, contemplating whether to take it with me or leave it in the car. Its reaction—yes, I believed it acknowledged me—to my touch wigged me out.

_What if the Incubus finds you?_

"I'm losing my effing mind," I muttered, tucking the blade against my good side as I stumbled into the road. Houses lined the street, but thankfully no one was out to spot me dragging a giant sword. A dingy gas station came up a block after the subdivision. It was deserted save for a group of rough teens who sized me up, and an attendant who might have already eaten one of the gangbangers.

One whistled and grabbed his crotch.

_I'm getting more action tonight than in the last ten years._

Not that I blamed their respectful interest. With the drunken swagger and squinty-eyed gaze, I must have resembled one of their communal crack-whores. I curled my lip and waved the sword in the air.

They broke into laughter.

Little bastards. They wouldn't laugh so hard if they knew what chased me.

I shivered and, again, kicked myself for wearing shorts. Huddling against the chill, I trudged another block, each step leading me to the steps of Saint Mary's Catholic Church.

A wave of relief swept over me at the lights shining behind the gorgeous stained-glass windows. Father Thomas O'Connor gave Mass each night and was known to leave the doors open long after parishioners cleared the church. My Catholic faith had taken a sabbatical—not because of some cataclysmic event or disagreement with church doctrine. I still believed. I just didn't care.

_Uh-huh, so why aren't you going inside?_

What if the doors were locked? What if they weren't? I couldn't say which scared me more, but when it came to choices, I had very few. There was nowhere else to turn.

The brick cathedral loomed large, equal parts inviting and daunting. Candle flames flickered in the windows, reminding me of wraiths trapped and trying to escape. I swallowed and forced my feet to climb the stone steps. My hand reached for the brass handle, then dropped away. Butterflies twirled in my belly.

I closed my eyes, counted to ten, and opened the door. Cool, refreshing air rushed over me, and I stepped inside. The instant I crossed the threshold of the church, the pain fled.

No chills, no pounding, no nausea.

Something that could only be described as a half giggle, half whimper escaped as I more poured than sat my aching body into the last pew. A sense of peace—something I hadn't felt in months—enveloped me. I couldn't control the shaking as all the fear, anger, and resentment raced to the surface, and then dissipated as if never there.

I slid my fingers over the worn upholstery bench, hitching at every line of thread they crossed. Incense, musky and sweet, filled my nostrils, bringing on a rush of memories. Some good, some I'd rather forget.

When mom got sick, she hadn't had the strength to attend mass. Without her, I didn't bother as I'd always attended for her. Then she'd died, and I'd dismissed God on every level.

I lifted my gaze to the statue of the crucified Christ, waiting, hoping for—what? Peace? Forgiveness? The need to pray?

Even if I knew the words, they wouldn't come.

"Esther Benton, it's been too long since your last confession."

I gawked a moment before it dawned on my weary brain that the voice had not come from the statue of Christ.

Sometimes I scared even myself.

I wiped a hand across my forehead and turned. Father Tom, fists on hips and bushy brows lowered in a scowl, stood behind me. If not for the mischievous glint in his eye, I'd have believed the harsh look.

"Those are fighting words, Father," I said, unable to suppress an answering grin.

"Only proves you need to confess."

"Can't deny that." I gave him a quick hug. "Still, calling me Esther? Dangerous."

His laugh came out as a wheeze. He bent over, coughing into his fist until his face took on an alarming shade of pink.

I slapped him on the back, wondering if the abuse helped or hindered. "You okay?"

He sucked in a harsh breath. "I'm not long for this world, child."

The blood drained from my head. I clenched his meaty arm. It was meant to steady him, but I needed the support far more than he did.

Why must all my rocks crumble out from under me?

"What troubles you, Joey?" He asked, lowering himself to a bench. I helped guide him down, pretending not to notice the trembling of his legs.

The priest knew of my issues. Rather than prod me about them, or shame me for pulling away, he let me cope on my own, secure in the knowledge I could return to church whenever I wanted. He knew I wouldn't come unless I was ready to deal with those issues. Or I was desperate.

Turns out, I was desperate.

"I needed someplace..." _Safe_. "Quiet. Just for a little while," I said, my voice little above a whisper.

"You've come to the right place. Take the quiet you—"

"You are very difficult to find," an all too familiar voice boomed through the church.

I spun around. The outline of Ursus' broad shoulders took up the vestibule. Shadows shrouded his face, but I'd know that voice—and that body—anywhere. I bared my teeth. "Get out. You are the last person, er, whatever, I want to see."

"And you thought to hide from me in a house of God?"

"Obviously." I sent him a drop-dead, preferably on the spot, glare. _Ass_.

I'd drink llama spit before admitting I'd run from Chamos more than him.

Father Tom placed a frail hand on my arm, dragging my attention away from my nemesis. "Joey?" His gaze flickered to the doors and back again. Concern filled his eyes.

Only then did I realize the priest couldn't see Ursus. Pointing an accusing finger at the angel, I demanded, "You better show yourself."

I came here for a reprieve, not to be hauled out in a paddy wagon.

Ursus looked over the sanctuary, tracing the altar up to the stained glass windows. "Beautiful church," he said.

"You smug son of a bi—"

"Joey! What on earth is going on?" Father Tom's feeble squeeze on my hand interrupted my tirade. Shrewd blue eyes searched mine from beneath bushy, white brows. He _was_ a man of God. If anyone could take it in stride, he could. Right? Assuming he didn't throw me out for blasphemy.

"What if I told you..." I exhaled with a huff, shaking my head at what was about to leave my mouth. "I have an angel. A vexatious, won't-take-no-for-an-answer, _idiot_ angel. One who professes the need to protect me from...." I chomped my teeth at Ursus in what could never be mistaken for a smile. "Demons."

"Oh my," father whispered. "That puts a spin on things, doesn't it?" His eyes twinkled as he sought a glimpse of the angel. "I wouldn't call him names though. Might change his mind."

My jaw fell open. I could only stare. Seriously? Where was the concerned disbelief? The indignant outrage?

Ursus laughed, a deep rumbling that melted my patience.

My eye twitched. "At least show yourself?"

"No. He will see my kind soon enough."

Before I could identify the weight on my chest, Father Tom interrupted. "Joey, I've enough faith he needn't show himself to me."

With that he patted my hand and pushed off the pew before shuffling around to face the church entrance. He bowed over clasped hands to an angel he couldn't see. "I'm honored."

"Well, don't be. He's not very nice," I grumbled.

"He doesn't have to be," Father Tom replied with a small smile as he made the sign of the cross. After departing his fortune-cookie wisdom, he ambled back to the Sacristy and shut the door with a soft click.

"Are you kidding me?" The question was rhetorical because why bother when the whole world had gone crazy.

"That is how you respond to an angel." Ursus crossed his arms and offered up a smirk that took me from zero to pissed-off in the blink of his arctic blue eyes.

"You." There had to be steam coming out my ears. I could practically feel the top of my head readying to blow off. I doubled up my fists on my stomp over to him. "I'm so done with you."

"Are you?" His brows lifted in mock surprise. Then his face wiped back to that expressionless slate. "Come. It is time we left."

"Are you deaf, or just stupid? I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Neither. Though I would prefer it, your cooperation is unnecessary." He grabbed my arm and twirled me toward the doors. "You will come one way or another."

"You can plant that sweet pucker on my ripe, round ass." I dug in my heels, yanking back on my arm. Projecting a haughty air of indifference, while being dragged around like a dog on a leash, was no easy task.

"Be still," he groused.

"Hey, Conan, _you_ are dragging _me_. Remember?"

"Shhh."

"Don't you shush me!" I shrieked over the shoulder he had jacked up to my ear.

"Silence," he rumbled, pinning me with a frown. "We are not alone."

I froze, the dangerous glint in his eye finally penetrating my stubborn fog.

"You sure?" I whispered. "Isn't church like home base or something, a no evil zone? You know, a get-away-from-demons free card."

He shot me a look that clearly conveyed he doubted my sanity. "They may not breach the Church's hallowed grounds," he agreed. "But that won't stop them from surrounding the property. We're sitting ducks here."

Oh. That made sense.

"How'd they find us?"

"Probably your big mouth." He hauled me to the front of the church. I had just enough reach to snag my sword as we passed the last pew and fled through the outer doors in a rush.

Chamos and two other malcontents stood before the stairs, a few scant inches separating them from the first step. Would they burst into flames if they stepped onto the property? I sure as hell hoped so.

"How nice." Chamos smiled, spreading his palms wide. "Front door service."

His two sidekicks snickered. Apparently the demon moonlighted as a stand-up comic.

Ursus tugged me back into the church. "We will depart from the rear."

I stumbled as he shoved me in front of him at breakneck speed, pushing me faster than my legs could run. One too many trips and I'd be crushed to death by his marauding feet.

"You said they can't breach hallowed ground," I panted. "Can't we just stay here?"

"Not forever. We must leave now before more arrive."

I had just enough time to spot two beady-eyed demons lurking in the alley before something whizzed past my ear.

I wasn't smart enough to duck the first arrow; just lucky it missed, splintering against the brick instead of my face. I spun on Ursus and shouted, "Demons," and moved to push him inside. My plan was cut short by an arrow sliding into my back.

Pain blazed through my spinal column, spreading to my arms and legs, growing in strength as it went. The air clawed its way from my lungs as I fought to breathe against the explosive pain.

"I got her!"

My vision faded into fuzzy blackness as I listed against Ursus, lightheaded and numb. The clang of my blade hitting the sidewalk was muted as if from a great distance. Oh crap no, was I dying?

"Joey." Ursus' voice tethered me to consciousness, but it faded a bit more with each exhale. He grasped my chin and angled my face to look at him. "Open your eyes."

It took everything I had to obey.

"That's it. Stay with me," he soothed, glancing between us. Dismay gave way to a gamut of emotions before he settled on rage. His lips peeled back from his teeth.

I glanced down to see the pointed end of an arrow protruding from my abdomen. Blood spread outward from the wound, coloring my shirt in a grotesque, crimson tie-dye.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Chamos materialize beside the demon holding the crossbow. "You shot her with an arrow?" His tone screamed incredulity. He advanced on the demon. "She is no good to me _dead_."

_Dead? I so won't look good in dead._

My knees buckled, and I'd have gone down if Ursus hadn't wrapped an arm around my shoulders, steadying my deadweight against him.

"I am sorry," he whispered in my ear as he curled a hand around the arrow. I nearly asked him why, he hadn't shot me, but then he ripped it from my belly. The squishy, tearing flesh sound disappeared under my screams. Stars flashed before my eyes, threatening to explode them from their sockets. And why not? My heart would burst from my chest any second.

My gorge rose with the taste of the same liquid seeping from my body. I pressed trembling hands to my stomach, but blood dripped through my laced fingers, trickling down to stain the cement at my feet.

Chamos spun on the arrow-shooting demon and decapitated him. The demon's skull smashed into the adjacent building with a sickening, juicy crunch a moment before its body fell to the ground in a twitching heap.

"I guess turnabout's fair play," Chamos stated, shoulders rising in a casual shrug. "You stab me. I stab you."

Ursus crushed me against him—an immortal tourniquet of sorts. I didn't know if he wanted to help stem the blood or finish me off as the hold robbed me of oxygen. I slapped at his arms, threatening as a newborn kitten, and he snatched my blood-slick hand, pressing it over my stomach. I tried to tell him it wouldn't do any good, my guts were falling out, but he out-yelled me in a language I'd never heard before.

I had a sneaking suspicion no mortal had heard it before.

Whatever he'd said had Chamos in a snit because the demon bellowed back in an equally loud rant.

The next thing I knew, we were catapulting into the air. One minute, feet firmly planted on the bloody cement. The next, soaring into the sky.

A revolting cocktail of cheeseburger and blood flew from my mouth. Chamos jumped back an instant before the mixture would have coated him and sent up a disgusted glare.

That'd learn him, the bastard.

I clung to Ursus for dear life.

"I will not drop you, _pretiosa_ ," my angel promised.

My brain seized at the image of my broken, twisted body splattered on the cement. Then again, I'd die of a heart attack long before I went splat. Better yet, I might bleed to death in the next few minutes, making both scenarios moot.

_I'm dying._

It was a bitter pill to swallow. My whole life stood before me, yet here I was peering into the abyss. All because I was the child of an angel.

What little blood I had left boiled. I didn't want to know about angels, much less be one. I certainly didn't want to know about demons. And I sure as all hell didn't want to die for either.

_I want to live. Assholes!_

We soared past the treetops until we hovered directly over the church. The air stirred as he lowered us to the rooftop.

He stretched me out on the roof and nudged my hands aside. "Let me see, Joey."

Unlacing the fingers holding my innards in struck me as a bad idea, but I did it.

His face fell before he schooled his expression.

He didn't need to bother. I knew the score—too much blood loss plus whatever damage the arrow had done equaled bad odds.

Maybe it was my imminent demise but I couldn't help but notice the angel's wings. Shock that he had wings—and why wouldn't he? Angels do, right?—was drowned out only by their glory. Brilliant white feathers rustled in the breeze, and nothing short of him cutting my hand off could stop me from running my fingers through the downy plumes. They dissolved into my touch and fluttered away in the wind. Then reformed before my eyes.

Ursus moved his face into my line of vision, and his bleak gaze made me drop my hand. "I do not have the power to heal," he said.

I swallowed the copper pooling in my mouth, gagging on its tinny taste. I forced the horrible blood-saliva down my throat because apparently even death couldn't keep me from my vanity.

"You... sure?" Let's not get ahead of ourselves, right?

"I can think of only one way to save you. It is dangerous. And unpleasant." He shook his head. "It may not even work."

"W-why don't you give me the g-good news?" I clamped my chattering teeth together. He looked more scared than I.

His mouth twitched. "That was the good news."

"Oh," I managed before the intermittent shivers became full body shakes. The cold meant I didn't have much longer, but the icy numbness muted everything, including fear. I felt detached, unconcerned.

"I would like to shift with you." He traced my brow with his thumb, drawing a line to my cheek. Blue eyes scanned my face with intensity as if committing it to memory.

"Since you made it sound so fun," I whispered. "I'm in."

He wrapped his hand around my waist and lifted me onto his lap. The action sent an inferno through my middle, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out as I buried my face in his chest. Tears I couldn't hold any longer wet my cheeks and his shirt. He cradled my head and whispered something in that strange language. I didn't care what. I clung tightly, feeling safe. Protected.

And then we shifted.

# 8

I came out of the shift screaming obscenities.

The shift had ripped me apart and pieced me back together. My eyes opened to find Ursus looming over me with a frown. He yanked up my shirt, and I squawked, shoving the fabric down. He swatted my hand away and ran his across my stomach in a brisk, doctor-like manner.

"You're alive." He gave my belly a quick, satisfied tap, tucked my shirt back into place, and hoisted me to my feet.

"I shifted your sword for you." He thrust the hilt into my hand, forcing me to accept it or let it clank to the ground. And then my knight in shining armor pivoted on his heel, and without further how-do-ya-do, left me to my misery. I scowled at his back and then lifted my shirt to peer at my belly. It was new and improved. Not so much as a scratch.

Too bad the rest of my body felt run past its warranty.

My bones ached from the inside out. And my organs... did he run us through a trash compactor? Was I _supposed_ to feel worse?

And where the hell were we?

We'd shifted into an alley. I glanced at the two buildings I was standing between. Many older buildings downtown held shops on the ground floor and housing tenants above. The building to my back was the conventional red brick; three stories high, the top two floors had been converted into apartments. The usual downtown fare.

The two dumpsters in front of me smelled as if they'd spent their day rotting in the sun. Stomach already sour, I tried breathing through my mouth, then thought of the disgusting trash particles drifting past my lips and snapped my jaw shut.

The second building took up one floor and its dumpster held cardboard.

My angel had shredded my rump with Heaven's cheese grater and then dropped me in a piss-filled back street.

"What a cozy spot," I said. "Is this where you bring all your first dates?"

He flicked a glance over one shoulder and kept on walking, leaving me to follow or stand and curse his existence.

I sputtered and took off after him, my sword scraping over the concrete because it weighed too much to hold upright for long. Blasted thing. Snagging his arm, I spun him around to face me. Well, okay, he allowed me to spin him.

"FYI," I said, punctuating every syllable with a finger jab to his chest. "A root canal is unpleasant. Constipation is unpleasant. Shifting? I'd rather be gutted by a toothpick-wielding blind man. Unpleasant doesn't cover it!"

He pushed my hand aside. The ice in his eyes could've put out a bonfire in Hell. "I warned you," he said. "You are still breathing, yes?"

"No thanks to you."

"No thanks to me?" He crowded close, forcing me to crane my neck to look up at him. "Had I not shifted, you would be dead."

"Had you not gotten me shot with an arrow, I wouldn't have needed shifting," I fired back. "I didn't shove myself out that door."

Hell's bonfire? Completely wiped out. His gaze cooled clear to my pink-painted toes. I took an instinctive step back, coming up hard against the building.

He advanced until inches separated us. Streaks of white flashed in his irises, filling them with an eerie glow. "You're right. And I promise I will never allow another to harm you." He lowered his head, placing our lips a hair's breadth apart. "I cannot make that same promise of myself."

Before the words had fully left his lips, his fingers clamped around my upper arm, and he started dragging me down the sidewalk.

"Let go, you tyrant." I pried at his grip with shaky fingers. When that didn't work, I jerked backward to dislodge him.

He yanked me forward with such force I stumbled and would've fallen if he hadn't had a hold of me.

"Damn it, Ursus, slow down," I demanded with great authority. He didn't, and I felt I had no choice but to jog behind him for fear he'd keep trucking, even if it were my corpse he was dragging. "Where are you taking me?"

No response.

"At least let up on the hammer hand. You're crushing my arm."

"Last time I trusted you to behave, you ran. Look how that turned out."

I curled my lip. "Gee, it's not like you broke into my house and scared the bejesus out of me or anything."

What happened to my hero? The one who cradled me in his arms and called me pretty-osa or some such shit. He could've chewed those demons up and spit them out, he'd been so mad. What, now that I wasn't dying, I'd been relegated to playing the monkey on his back?

Well, two could play this game. If he wanted to find himself annoyed, I'd give him first-rate directions.

"Wanna play twenty questions?" I could drive him round the bend if I wanted.

And I wanted.

He gave me a puzzled look. "What?"

"Twenty questions. I ask tons of questions and you have to answer." I smiled. In truth, I'd never played the game and had no idea what it entailed. But he didn't either, so I could make up the rules.

With a snort he faced forward again.

"No? No biggie. You chime in whenever you're ready. Now, about those wings," I said, scanning his shoulder blades. "I don't see them under your shirt. Where'd they come from? Better yet, where did they go?"

Only his stomping footfalls challenged the silence.

"You can get back to me. Second question: Do you guys poop?"

His unexpected halt had me slamming into him. "Do you ever shut up?"

I took an exaggerated look around and, pointing at my chest, said, "Are you talking to me?"

His lips spread with a growl. "No." And off he trudged.

I grinned. "Okay. Third question—"

"The park!"

"There now, was that so hard?" I called after him. He barked something in return. A thank you for my insightful questions, no doubt.

_Stubborn jackass._

Why were we headed into Pullen Park? I'd ask, but he'd probably ignore me. Ursus wanted to go to the park then I'd go to the damn park. What else could I do? Head home and get screwed to death by a sex demon? That was a big, resounding no.

Turning down the all-too-sexy Chamos was a cinch when he wasn't in the same room. But put me in proximity to his mojo and my panties did the Cha-cha. I needed to stay close to Mr. I-Chew-Nails-For-Breakfast to keep me from my libido.

_What a cluster_.

I jogged to catch him. "So. Why didn't you just shift us to the park in the first place instead of that beautiful backstreet?" I asked.

"Too populated. It wouldn't do for people to see us appear out of thin air, now would it?"

I scrunched my nose at his tone. At least he'd answered, which was miles ahead of his silent treatment. "Well high-five to that. I much prefer walking."

More silence fell over us and I let it go, taking in the sights and sounds of downtown instead. The streetlights flickered on, holding the night at bay a little while longer. People, oblivious to the monsters among them, strolled down the walkways without a demonic care in the world.

I envied them. They didn't know heaven and hell on a first name basis. Some believed, others didn't. I _knew_. This was no dream. It was a nightmare. For the rest of my life.

Frustration clenched my fists. I clamped down the need to swing them at someone specific. It wasn't Ursus' fault I was in this mess and at least he was on my side. I hoped.

As the foot traffic picked up, more than one woman, young and old alike, craned their necks as Ursus passed, ogling him front to back. I showed them my teeth.

_Get your own Angel, slut-puppies._

"Hey, are you letting people see you?" I demanded, more than a little put out. He wouldn't show himself to Shula or Father Tom, making me appear insane to them, but everyone on the street got a gander?

"Yes."

"Well, isn't that gracious of you. Couldn't do it when I asked, but now you're on board? Nice."

Heaving the world's heaviest sigh, he stopped. "Would you like me to disappear so people think you're talking to yourself? And when someone calls the police to report a crazy woman, we'll both get our first ride in the back of a cruiser. We can share a jail cell. Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Oh please. They wouldn't arrest me for talking to myself." _Duh_. I rolled my eyes.

"But I don't suppose they'll take too kindly to the sword you've been dragging behind you like a common stick." He gave a pointed stare to my right hand.

"I see your point."

"Good. Because I'd have to shift you again. Not a good idea with a crowd and cameras."

_Oh hell no._

I held my palm up between us. "Ah, no, chuckalicious. I won't shift again. Ever. Should you find me with my entrails lying at my feet, just sling them over my shoulder and let me walk them home. Do _not_ shift me." I shivered and muttered, "It hurt worse than the arrow."

"You would rather die than shift?"

"You betcha."

"Fine. I promise never to shift you without your permission." The twinkle in his eye should've clued me in, but I was feeling superior he'd so readily agreed to my terms. Even if those terms left me with my guts hanging out on the sidewalk.

"You'll learn to shift yourself."

Time stood still. A girl could go deaf with all her blood rushing to her head. Which of us was crazier? Him, for his ludicrous ideas, or my dumbass for following the nut with the ludicrous ideas?

I laughed. His mouth spread into a full-blown grin. He crossed his arms and leaned against a light post. I couldn't help but notice how his shirt tightened around his shoulders. Or how low his jeans hung on his hips.

_Shit._

"I'm not an angel, and humans don't shift." I twirled with a flounce and started for the park, tossing, "We drive cars," behind me.

His laughter rang in my ears. I clacked my teeth together and plodded on, refusing to acknowledge him. I must've been a sight as I dragged my sword behind me, its tip causing sparks along the sidewalk. When Ursus appeared beside me, I speared him with a look so sharp, he should've bled out in the grass.

"You _are_ angel, if only by half. Archangel, to be exact. Most do not have the power to shift. Clearly, you do or you'd have died in the alley." He hooked his thumbs over his pants pockets, coming off more relaxed than I'd seen him. Humor softened his features, erasing the stone mask of superiority.

Damn, he was hot when he wasn't snarling at me.

"You're enjoying yourself, aren't you?" I accused. "You know I don't want this. I'll probably die, hideously, and you're snickering like a schoolboy at his first glimpse of booby."

He gave me a stricken look. "The last thing I want is for you to get hurt," he said, jamming his hands into his pockets and striding off, a military-stiff line straightening his back.

Defeated, I massaged my neck, attempting to knead the knots from my cramped muscles. It didn't work for crap. I was still a walking ball of hostility.

A gaggle of chattering women walked past. One lady, far too old to gossip, canted towards another, covering her mouth with her hand to whisper in her friend's ear as she cast a sideways glance in my direction.

Did Ursus disappear just to prove a point? Nah. That would draw attention, and Ursus didn't want that. Right?

"Ursus, did you go invisible on me?"

"No."

"Then why are people staring?"

He halted and studied an approaching elderly couple. Judging by their alarmed expressions and quickening pace, something had spooked them. They scurried around the corner as if they expected me to give chase.

He watched them go and then turned on me. "Might it have something to do with the fact you are brandishing that giant sword we discussed?" His words came out dry as the Mohave. At my blank stare, he added, "You talk with your hands."

"Well, what am I supposed to do with it?" I knew what I'd _like_ to do with it, and it wasn't anything on _my_ anatomy.

His slow, arrogant swagger brought all brain activity to a standstill. An involuntary shiver painted my skin with goosebumps. He smiled, resting his hands on his hips, and offered, "You might hide it in your clothes. If you were wearing any."

My jaw dropped. My gaze followed suit. No one had stolen my clothes. Okay, so my tank's built-in bra lifted my bosoms. I wasn't its seamstress. And my shorts were a little more than short. Was that a crime? My wardrobe choices were the direct result of his nasty attitude. If he hadn't insulted my _self_ , I wouldn't have chosen this get-up before running off half-cocked.

Shoving out a shapely, thank you very much, hip, I crossed my arms for the sole purpose of extra lift and visibility. "You noticed, huh? I thought you might like men. Men in leather."

_Not for a second._

He pulled a trout-on-the-wrong-side-of-the-pond routine, mouth alternating between an open gape and a jaw-busting grimace.

"Did you just call me gay?" he asked with a calm that didn't match the storm that was the rest of him.

I shrugged as if the flutters in my belly didn't exist.

"I'm not gay," he shouted, drawing what was no doubt unwanted attention. He leaned over me, his closeness sending another chaotic bolt through my system. "I would think it very clear I am not into men. Leather or no."

My lips wanted to spread in a mile-wide grin, the randy tarts. Holding my palms in the air, I said, "Hey now, calm down. How was I to know? You said kissing me was a mistake. You're not attracted to me. I get it. Thought you might prefer men, that's all."

I examined my fingernails with a bored expression, pretending to find a broken one. My huff sent a jiggle through my top. Baiting him was a bad idea, yet I needed to prove that first kiss was nothing more than the demon's influence—the attraction meant nothing.

His glower slid to my chest. A guttural growl rumbled a moment before his arm whipped around my waist, pulling me against him. He stilled inches from my lips. Desire and anger warred in his eyes, each fighting for dominance.

I forgot about my sword until I heard it jangle on the sidewalk. It could start its own Mariachi band for all I cared.

I tilted my head, angling to press my mouth against his. "Please, don't tell me no," I pleaded, and ran my tongue along his bottom lip. That small taste brought the ache for him rushing back.

_It's him_. _I want him._

My hands fisted in his shirt and I attempted to shove him. He rumbled a warning and nipped my lip before deepening the kiss. The brush of his thumb along my jaw scattered my senses and then, slow enough to drive a sloth mad, his hands skimmed along my frame to squeeze my hips, drawing me tighter against him. Our bodies aligned perfectly.

_As if made for each other._

"Get a room," someone shouted. Someone who had just scheduled his appointment with death.

Ursus tensed and then inched back. His gaze fixed on my neck as if it were unwilling to climb any higher.

I uncurled my fingers from his shirt. Wiped them over my shorts. An apology almost sprang from my lips, but I wasn't sorry. Not really. Not about the kiss or the trouble it might cause him.

And that truth scared me more than the overwhelming attraction we seemed to share.

"You, ah, ready?" I cleared the rasp from my throat and added, "To go. To the park, that is."

He considered me for so long I began to squirm.

"Yoohoo." I whistled. "Ya with me? I didn't kiss you deaf, did I?"

His mouth ticked, suggesting he might laugh. Instead, those so-sexy-they-make-my-eyes-cross lips compressed into a grim line.

"My hearing is fine," he said, bending to grab my sword. He thrust it into my hand with a muttered, "It's the rest of me I'm worried about."

He shocked me by lacing our fingers together and tugging me along. "Come. Time is running out."

# 9

_Why me_?

Though I'd asked myself this question several times, I was starting to twitch from my self-pity. I mean, really, an answer wouldn't change anything so why dwell on it? Besides, the real issue that had my twitters in a snit stalked ahead of me. The angel didn't like me very much. And while I couldn't say I liked him much better, I couldn't deny a strange sense of partnership between us. I was not alone in this—Ursus would protect me, teach me how to protect myself, even give his life for mine if it came to that. My gut somehow instinctively knew to trust him.

It was the attraction that was needling me. If we weren't who we were—an angel and... whatever the hell I was—maybe it wouldn't be such a big deal. Why couldn't we be two people out for a stroll, getting to know one another?

Ursus stalked ahead, not bothering to check if I followed, just expecting me to obey. _Ass._

I needed to focus on the situation, not on something that would never be. Considering his kiss had ignited my libido like a struck match, that wouldn't be a challenge at all.

An appreciative sigh slipped out before I could catch it.

Ursus glanced over his shoulder. My spine jerked straight. I curled my lip at him, feeling as if I'd been caught with my hand in the candy jar. He frowned, a muscle twitching along his cheek, but after a beat, his head swiveled back around.

_Sampling some angel food cake is not on the agenda. Get a grip._

This time my sigh was more resigned than fantasizing. "Ursus," I said.

He stopped without turning and waited for me to catch up.

"So, about this whole warrior in the holy army thing..." I chewed my lip, stalling for the right words. "What if I don't want in on it?"

He lifted his shoulders. "You would rather lie down and die than take up arms?"

"No, but I don't want this," I said, struggling to remain calm and rational as I waved my arms in the air.

"You said that already."

"Oh, I see. Well how 'bout this? I refuse. I can do that, right? I've got one life, one _mortal_ life, and I'll be damned if I'll let you or any of those demon sons-a-bitches take it."

"That's right." His eyes flashed with those freaky streaks again. "One chance to become what you're meant to be. You are an angel's child, Joey, a fact you cannot change."

Didn't he just sound confident, even reasonable?

He was full of shit.

I shook my head. "No, I can't. But I don't have to embrace it either. Your war has nothing to do with me."

I didn't start this whole charade. And I sure as hell didn't bring myself into this world, so why was I the one shouldering the burden?

"We all die, Joey. A warrior's best death is in battle. Like it or not, you were born to fight for those who cannot."

"Thank you for that nugget of wisdom, Gladiator. You should write for Hallmark." A tsk flew from my mouth. _This man_. Angel. Whatever. "And what's this _we_ stuff? You're immortal. You can't die."

"That's not true." Calm as you please, he sauntered past me. "All angels can die."

My lips made a deflating whoopee cushion sound as all the oxygen left my lungs. I seized his arm. "Immortal, by definition, means deathless."

"My body will not wear out like yours. However, everything living can die." He lifted his shoulders. "Most of us, humans and angels alike, will before this war is done."

I considered waking up dead a shitty start to my day, so his nonchalant, no-hitch-in-his-stride approach left me with a case of the ass.

How could a being older than time itself die? Angels were messengers, agents of revelations, and believed to be created all at once before our planet—I read that in the bible somewhere. And still had no idea what it meant.

Death, in immortal terms, bothered me. We, as humans, know our time is limited. We die. It's what we do. Immortals? Not so much.

I was a genetic cocktail of mortal and immortal. So where did it leave me? Aside from screwed.

"That's disconcerting, to say the least." I fanned my hand in front of my face, desperate for a breeze to cool the flush creeping into my cheeks. Between the oppressive heat and sudden urge to faint, I needed a drink. "How?"

"How what?" he asked. "How would you kill me?"

I nodded.

His mouth curved. "Why? You planning something?"

"The idea has merit," I grumbled.

"I believe it," he muttered, starting along the path again. "Demons differ from angels in that they no longer own their souls. They have only their physical bodies. So to kill a demon, you simply remove his head. Make it clean; make it swift. They heal quickly. The only other way is with holy fire, which, as you can guess, is rather difficult to obtain on Earth."

_Simply_ remove their heads? Sure thing, since they'd no doubt spread out at my feet and let me saw on their necks.

"Are you with me so far?" he asked. At my hand motion to continue, he did. "Angels have their souls and, unless we are here on Earth, we prefer to roam as spirits. I may leave this body and come back to it as many times as I wish. It's more convenient because not every place in Heaven permits a physical form."

"What do you do with your body when you're..." my gaze traveled over him, "not wearing it?"

"Leave it in Heaven. Although, angels have been known to drop it here." He shook his head as if he couldn't fathom it. "Anyway, that's not important. To kill an angel, to kill _me_ , you stab here." He pointed to his chest where his heart rested.

Did angels have hearts? Lungs? It creeped me out to think about it. Plus, I was still hung up on them parking their carcasses on terra firma.

Though I'd asked how to do the deed, I didn't like knowing. And I really didn't like how casually he told me about it. "I don't want to know how to hurt you. I'm sorry I asked."

"You need to know how to defend against everything." Grabbing my hand, he placed it inches below the left side of his collarbone and pressed his hand over mine. His body heat crept into my palm and fingertips. "This is where my soul lives. If you stab me here, severing the tie that binds me to this body, I will die. Anything else will only slow me down."

My throat burned. I stared at the hand over his chest. "What happens when an angel dies?"

"Same as you, we enter the Hereafter." He flipped his hand around to give mine a light squeeze before dropping it. "Come on. You shouldn't be in the open this long."

"I don't know if you know this," I whispered, relieved by the change in our conversation. "But I'm walking beside an angel. He's got a big sword and a bad attitude. Nothing can touch me."

"Would this be the same angel you accused of getting you shot with an arrow?" A dark brow curved upward.

"That's the one. Hey, I didn't say he was good, just big. And bad."

Ursus laughed and my insides did a flip-flop. I scratched my forehead for something to distract from the unwelcome reaction. "Are you ever going to tell me where we're going?"

He walked a few paces in silence as if debating whether or not to answer. "I am taking you to a Domination. Her name—"

"Whoa." Placing my hand at the base of my throat, I took an exaggerated step back. "This sword of mine is not for any deviant sexual play."

A bewildered frown claimed his face before slipping into annoyance. "An Angel of Destiny. Must you turn everything into a joke?"

"Yes. We seem to have two modes—bickering or making out. You, for some unfathomable reason, prefer to sling insults. So I taunt you to show moral support. See how good I am to you?"

We were back on familiar ground—defiant needling against indignant outrage. I knew I sure felt better.

He opened his mouth, stuttered, and closed it. After turning a delicious shade of indignant, he pulled himself straight and gave my sword a pointed glare. "You really need to put your weapon away."

Well, didn't that just change the subject and ruin my fun. "Put it away," I said, lifting the thing with effort. "What would you have me do with it?"

"Shift it."

"Excuse me?" I couldn't have heard him right. His bland demeanor said otherwise, sending a jangle through my nerves. "What a fabulous idea." I slammed my palm against my forehead. "I'll put it at the top of my list, right next to combing my hair with a chainsaw."

"You survived a shift which means the power is yours. Use it."

Pretty as the day was long, but his thinking cup was empty, wasn't it? Not only was I clueless as _how_ to do it, but I was entirely unwilling. Did he not get the memo? Shifting sucked.

"Sure thing, Yoda. I'll get right on that."

He crossed his arms, his expression stoic and unreadable. I struggled with the urge to give him a one-finger salute.

"I _can't_."

"Your thoughts are your will," said Yoda, jerking his chin up once in challenge.

Oh, I'd prove him so full of shit. When the stupid sword went nowhere but upside his asinine head, he'd see the error of his ways.

I clicked my teeth together, closed my eyes. "Take a hike. Sayonara. Blast _off._ "

"Are you speaking to me?"

"No. I'm talking to my sword. Butt out." I inhaled, I exhaled. Lather, rinse, repeat.

_Into the void._

I repeated the phrase over and over in my mind until I was dizzy with it. After what felt like several minutes, I fixed him with a righteous glare. "See? I told you."

"I do." His gaze shot to my hand.

My _empty_ hand.

"Holy shit." I stared, stupefied. The sword had disappeared. I even searched the ground around me. Nothing. I lifted a dopey grin. "I'm my own carnival ride."

Ursus barked a laugh. "Let's go. Devi is more than likely waiting on us."

"Devi?"

"The Dom—" He froze. Tension stiffened his stance. He put a finger to his lips, a call for silence. My brows lifted at the human gesture, but I kept quiet. Ursus turned a slow circle, scanning everything from the clouds down to the dirt.

My skin tightened over my bones, a most uncomfortable sensation. But it was better than a beat later when it began to feel as though millions of tiny, invisible insects were crawling over me, biting and stinging my flesh. Unfortunately, I recognized the sensation for what it was and opened my mouth to warn Ursus that something wicked this way comes when he snatched my wrist. "Run!"

As if I had a choice as he dragged me behind him. His legs were a Corvette to my bicycle, and even though he was hauling me forward, I started to lose ground.

"Ursus, I can't run this fast," I said in between panted breaths. "Shift us!" I never dreamed I'd suggest another go around, but staring down the barrel of a demon attack, its misery appealed far more than whatever Chamos, or any other demon, might put on me.

He yanked me forward. "It's too dangerous this close to the Threshold." Instead, he shifted his sword into his free hand. "Keep running. Don't slow for anything. The Threshold is less than a mile up the path. Make it there."

My heartbeat pulsed to the pounding of our feet. "What in hell is a threshold?"

"Go," he shouted and then vanished.

_I'll kill him. First, I'll slap the cute off his face for ditching me and then I'll run him through with his own sword._

Grunts and howls sounded behind me, mixing in with the clang of metal on metal. I almost turned back. Ursus was one angel against how many? He couldn't defeat them all.

_Shame on you for letting him try._

Yeah, well, the last time I came running with my sword in hand, the shock of it almost killed him. What could I possibly do but get in his way? Still, guilt rode every breath.

He told me to reach the Threshold, so, damn it, that's what I would do. Even if I didn't know what the ever-loving hell it was.

I tucked my chin to my chest, pulled my arms in at my sides, and pumped my legs as fast as they would go.

_Please, please, please._

"Joey."

My head snapped up. Chamos stood, looking all GQ with his hands in his pockets, further down the trail. The breeze blew his wavy hair across his forehead. White teeth flashed in contrast to his golden skin. My belly dove south.

_Want_.

I had little time to do more than veer into the grass and blow past him. That he didn't snag me right out of my Nikes shocked me, but my triumph died a quick death when my limbs rebelled, ignoring my commands to move faster, push harder. My legs slowed until stopping altogether a few yards ahead of the demon.

Bracing my hands on my knees, I fought to catch my breath.

Chamos let out a low whistle. "The dress was lovely, but these shorts are... " He licked his lips. His finger grazed the hem of my shorts. "Exquisite."

I curled my hands into fists, a physical effort to keep from running them over him. It was a compulsion I couldn't shake. I _needed_ his mouth on mine, on _me._

_Taste him._

"Stop. Please," I begged.

"Stop what, dear? Looking at you? That's all I've done." The gleam in his eyes promised much more. They were too dark. Not quite black, but a brown so deep I couldn't distinguish pupil from iris. The heat in them drew me in as if I were anchored to him by an invisible cable.

He lowered his face to nuzzle the spot behind my ear. His tongue flicked out, tasting the soft skin at the vein. I sucked in a harsh breath as his teeth lightly scraped over the sensitive flesh.

"Come with me, Joey," he murmured. Whether he meant for me to go with him to another location or come screaming his name, I didn't know.

"No." I wiped the skin he'd tasted with the back of my hand. "I don't want anything to do with you."

He chuckled. "Yes, you do. I can smell it, and I haven't even tried to seduce you, little girl."

For every step I retreated, he advanced another. My movements were unsteady. I wished I could say it was because exhaustion and terror had taken their toll, but part of me wanted to give in. I wasn't proud of it.

The sounds of clashing metal and fists on flesh had died down, and I prayed it was because I'd put distance between me and Ursus, not because he had been injured. Or worse.

I retreated another step. The air suddenly stirred, cracking and whooshing around me. The ground trembled beneath my feet, and I flung my arms out to my sides.

"Fallen." That one word was deep and gravelly, as if the bowels of hell had opened up and burped it out. A large, dark shadow formed out of nowhere and blew past me.

I didn't realize until Chamos gave me one last slow burn, saying, "this isn't finished," that it was aiming for him. He disappeared a second later.

I backed up as the cloud took shape—a really big shape. Any coherent thoughts I had left fled at this point as the largest black man I'd ever seen turned his sights on me. And let me just say, they were not friendly sights.

"Uh..." I held my palms up in surrender.

"Abisai!" Ursus, racing toward us, waved his sword over his head and yelled, "Don't hurt her."

Don't hurt her? _Not a good sign._ Sweat slipped down my spine as I mentally urged Ursus to pick up his pace before the giant pulverized me into fertilizer.

When Ursus did finally join us, Gigantor threw his tree-trunk size arms around him with enough force to snap him like a twig. "Ursus, my man."

"How are you, Sai?" Genuine pleasure rang in Ursus' voice.

"Happy to see you," he replied, all good cheer now. "How did you open my gate from so far?"

"I didn't." Ursus wrapped an arm around my shoulders, guiding me toward the giant with his not-so-subtle grip. "She did."

Abisai, as Ursus called him, grunted an objection. "Humans cannot trigger the portal. You know that."

"She's an Electus, Sai."

Oh, good, we had the big dude's attention now. Sai pulled himself to full height, gaze streamlining to a fine point. If he chose to flick me like a mosquito, I'd land in Texas.

He chuffed air from his nose. "Not possible. She has no brilliance."

_Um, did he just call me stupid?_

Ursus' head snapped in my direction. "Not a word."

Not a word, my ass. A string of them, most explicit, came to mind. The walking redwood had questioned my intelligence, not to mention my heritage. Forget the fact that I questioned it.

"She hides it," Ursus assured him, "She doesn't even realize she's doing it, but I promise, Sai. She is an Electus."

Abisai glowered at me—God forbid someone question the angel who made the accusation—and then planted his mug into the crook my neck.

I think he might have been trying to sniff me or something equally off-putting, but I jumped back with a, "What the crap."

Because I couldn't stand the thought of another male planting his face in my throat, when Ursus leaned in a beat later, I tilted in the opposite direction.

Instead of trying to catch a whiff, he said, "Shift your sword."

"Pardon?" What was I, a trained monkey? I'd shifted the weapon once, and though I'd impressed myself, I didn't want to do it at the drop of every hat. Perhaps I had beginners luck. Maybe I couldn't do it again. And wouldn't I look the total idiot if I gave it a whirl and came up empty-handed? "That's not your best idea, Ursus."

"I disagree," he stated without moving his jaw. "Please shift your sword."

After a moment of his icy stare, I caved. "I want it noted that I dislike the plan. Immensely."

I closed my eyes, shutting out the world around me, and pictured my sword—from the gleaming blade, over the intricate engravings, up to the sparkling stone set below the grip. I willed it to me.

Immediately, its weight settled against my palm. Something bright and sparkly rushed over me, and I lifted a triumphant smile to the angels. There might have been a bit of _suck it_ in the smile for Abisai.

The big man chewed his bottom lip and then laughed so loud it spooked the birds from the treetops. "You poor sod."

"Yes," Ursus agreed, shooting me a weary look.

With a final shake of his bald head, Abisai gripped my shoulders and, ignoring my squawk of protest, rotated me to face the fork in the sidewalk. At its apex, a small group of trees disintegrated into nothing, revealing a swirling vortex.

Abisai's booming voice was low, almost reverent when he said, "Welcome to Heaven, Chosen one."

# 10

A cool mist curled and whipped, swirling to a point in the center of the whirlpool thingy.

"I don't think I should go in there."

This marked the point of no return. I knew without a doubt that if I entered, the portal would seal behind me, shutting out this realm, my life, and maybe the possibility of returning to it.

It wasn't death I feared but the future—a future where demons and angels waged war on Earth. Crossing the threshold placed me dead center of what I wanted to avoid most.

"Definitely not going in there." Pivoting around to face the angels, I cocked my chin up a notch and added, "And you can't make me."

No reaction. Well, not from Ursus. Sai's eyebrows climbed his forehead. He laced his massive arms before him and rocked back on his heels.

Ursus cocked his head and blinked.

_That does not bode well._

I met his daunting gaze. He had another think coming if he thought anything but a sanctioned miracle would get me to step into that swirling, twirling mess.

The bastard shoved me into the portal.

Terror rode a scream up my throat. My arms pin-wheeled as I tried to fight the forward momentum. It was too little too late.

Abisai's booming laughter trailed behind as an unseen force pulled me into the dark mist. Tendrils slid forward to, I thought, ensnarl me, but when they touched my skin, it was soothing, taking my fear and leaving me with a sense of peace.

Not only did I feel safe and protected, but... _known_. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that my presence here, wherever here was, wasn't a surprise. It was both humbling and disconcerting.

The mist started to dissipate, as if sensing my readiness to face whatever I was here to face. I stared, awed by what it revealed.

Two rows of golden pillars lined the corridor, each one stretching endlessly upward and disappearing into the night sky. I ran my hand over the fiery surface of the closest column, surprised to find it cool to the touch. It looked as though it should burn.

Each stood before an equally radiant door, but unlike the smooth pillars, they were etched top to bottom in the same script as my sword.

I inched into the gallery, the soft tap of my shoes echoing with each step. I glanced at my feet. "Holy...." Diamonds lined the floor. Sparks of color shot in every direction along the corridor.

"Joey."

Ursus' voice at my ear startled me into a quick spin. "Don't sneak up on me," I snapped, shuffling to the side to make room for him.

"Beautiful, is it not?" he asked, clearly unconcerned with my righteous indignation.

"I have no words." I truly didn't. No one had invented a language beautiful enough to describe what I was seeing.

"My lucky day."

"Yeah," I muttered, more interested in the glittering rocks than taking offense. "Remind me to kick you later, okay? For shoving me into the portal."

Something sparkled at the other end of the hall, and I found myself drawn to it. Curiosity leading the way, I started toward the object, anticipation clogging my throat.

I came to a stop next to the gleaming staircase that dead-ended in giant, luminescent gates. "Is that... " My hand fluttered to my chest. "They're actually made of pearl?"

"Yes." Ursus stood at my side. How the hell did he get there so fast?

My reflection stared back from inside the pearl, mirroring me, yet moving on its own. Warmth spread through my belly and limbs as if I'd taken a deep drink of thick, rich Bourbon. "So beautiful." I reached for the handle.

Ursus stopped me with a hand on mine. "No. They are not for you."

"Why not?" I brushed him aside and reached again. It was as if they were reeling me in. The gate was my drug and I needed a fix. "I just want one touch."

_They'll feel like silk, I know it._

"The Gates are as pulled to you as you are to them." Ursus gripped my wrist and dragged it to my side. " _No_."

"Stop that." I turned on him with a scowl. Who did he think he was dealing with, a five year old? I was a grown damn woman—who just happened to be on the verge of sticking out her tongue.

He bound my wrists together in one of his large hands, and when I tried to jerk out of his hold, he tightened it. Not enough to hurt me, just chafe my pride. He was insufferable sometimes.

"They recognize a mortal soul and will part to admit you," he warned. As if it was some sort of deterrent?

"So? I won't enter," I said with a touch of _duh._ I wasn't looking to pass on to the next realm, thanks.

"You wouldn't be able to stop yourself. Nor would you be able to return."

_Oh._ That did put a different perspective on things.

Considering the matter resolved, he tugged on my bound wrists and started across the hall. "Come."

"I'm not a carryon bag." I yanked my arms back and nearly fell when he released me—if he hadn't caught me by the shoulders, I probably would have.

Guiding me to stand before one of the golden doors, he said, "You so much as turn towards those gates, I will spank your ass."

My mouth dropped open. "You can't be serious."

"Try me." Light eyes stared into mine, challenging.

"Fine. _Ass_." I made a show of rubbing my wrists where he'd clamped around them. What did God give them for bones—steel?

"Thank you. It is rather fine, isn't it?" He gave me a dazzling smile that left me gaping and unable to think of a proper retort. Taking advantage of my dumbfounded silence, he continued, "The gates lead only to the Hereafter. If you pass through them, your soul will remain there."

I craned my neck to steal another look at the glowing staircase and gates.

Ursus gripped my chin and turned me back around. "Pay attention. All realms in Heaven and Earth open through these doors." He pointed to the door before us. "Understand?"

I sucked in a deep breath and, knowing there was no point arguing, said, "Got it."

"Good." He stared a long moment and then, apparently satisfied, said, "Devi," as he twisted the knob and shoved open the door. Fog swirled, thick and luminescent as it filled the doorway. Floating tendrils snaked out toward me.

I couldn't help it—I shuffled back before they could touch me, dread pooling in my belly.

_So help me, if he shoves me into this portal, I'll do ugly things to his pretty face._

Instead of dropkicking me through, he slipped an arm in front of me, a makeshift barrier between me and whatever was beyond. As if I wanted to rush into the unknown? I almost snorted.

_This guy_.

"Do not smart mouth here."

His words penetrated slowly. I scowled. "That's just rude."

"I mean it, Joey. Fates are...testy. They can be unpredictable."

Well, that didn't sound ominous at all. And pardon the observation, but I had yet to meet an angel who didn't fit that description. I didn't mention it though—not due to courtesy, but because the louse thrust me into the vortex.

I didn't have time to brace myself as the black faded to gray, the gray to white, and then the fog cleared, revealing a...library?

A fire roared in the stone fireplace. There was a loveseat and chair angled in front of it and a large mahogany desk sat behind the sitting area. Shelves lined each wall, some filled with books as large as my thighs while others contained fresh flowers that were encircled by rocks. I walked to the nearest shelf for a better look. The flowers were either growing out of the shelf or standing on their own.

The next column held rolls of crumbling paper. I gently ran my fingertip along the edge of one and it retracted into itself.

"Please, do not touch my scrolls."

The feminine voice startled me as much as the scroll's movement. I tucked my hands behind my back—as if that would somehow hide the fact that I had indeed been touching the scrolls—and spun around. "I'm so sorry. I tend—" _to forget my manners when I'm utterly terrified._

The rest of my apology died. The owner of the voice was tall, lean like a runner, and gorgeous beyond gorgeous. Even with shocking blue hair. "That's an impressive do," was out of my mouth before I could stop it.

Ursus scowled. " _Joey_."

I knew where he was coming from but, damn it, it wasn't as if I'd had an uneventful, normal day, now, was it? He couldn't cut me a little slack? His tone of voice chapped my raw ass, so I turned the smile on him and raised one brow in a combination of _what now_ and _shove it_.

The blue-haired angel sashayed across the floor to stand before me. She ran a hand through the electric coif and smiled. "So, how are you two kids hitting it off?" she asked. She winked at me, her bright green eyes sparkling with an impishness more befitting an ornery sprite than an angel.

"We're not," grumbled Ursus.

"We're not?" Color me surprised. Here I was thinking we were doing well, all things considered.

Sure, we'd had a rocky start, but how could we not? He broke into my house, scared my hair short, and then fought an honest-to-God demon. _In my living room_.

And that was before I'd been stalked, stabbed, and shifted. If anyone was getting the raw end, it was me.

Deciding myself insulted, I hitched my hip onto the edge and leaned to the side for a little girl talk with my new pal, Smurfette. "Jealousy consumes him. I'm friendly and inviting—two ingredients angel-cakes doesn't have in his short loaf. Add to the fact that I can carry a conversation without a single grunt or snarl, and I'm the obvious winner in this personality contest." I watched Ursus' face grow tighter and more pinched throughout the speech, and I might've taken the tiniest of satisfaction from it.

Ursus took in a lungful before letting it roll out with a low, rumbled, "Menace."

Devi, the lone soul not slinging insults, shot him a grin to rival her combustible hair. "Ah, humans. They're so unbuttoned, aren't they? But never mind that. What do you want?"

"Don't you already know?" Ursus tossed back with irritation.

"Of course. I was being polite. As to what you want, Abigail Benton is none of your concern."

It took a moment for the name to penetrate the cloud of exhaustion that was surrounding me but once it did, I sat up straight. My heart tripped over a missed beat. "Are you talking about my mom?"

Neither acknowledged my question. Their focus was locked on one another like targeting missiles, and as much as I wanted to push, I got the impression Ursus had stepped into a landmine of forbidden territory.

He was the first to look away. "My only interest in Abigail is what she can tell me about her daughter."

"Then challenge her." Devi shrugged. "See what happens."

"It could kill her."

"Somehow, I doubt that." She flashed a wry grin, then pushed off the desk. "If that's all, I have futures to influence."

"Devi," Ursus blocked her path. "An _Incubus_ is after my charge. How does that not concern you?"

"Oh!" She spun so quickly that I didn't see the poke coming until she jabbed me in the ribs. "Is Chamos the hottest thing with horns or what?"

My lips worked—I felt them moving—but there was no sound. Chamos wanted to sex me to death and she was giggling like a schoolgirl when the quarterback hit the field. She was off her rocker.

Hell, she was off the whole porch.

"The girl certainly got a good look," Ursus said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why don't you fill her in, Joey?"

Heat crept into my cheeks at the reminder, but rather than punch him in the throat as he deserved, I lifted my shoulders, the best casual movement I could pull off. "Sure, I'd love to relive the most mortifying, terrifying experience of my life for a complete stranger, but first, why don't you relay how you let him shoot me with an arrow?"

_Oooh, that's not a good look._

Though his expression remained calm, nonplussed even, I had an overwhelming urge to find a weapon to defend myself. His hands were fisted against his thighs, probably his valiant effort to keep from throttling me, but rather than cinch them around my neck, he refocused on Devi. "Look, Incubus demons aren't known for fighting and yet, while I struggled to keep her from rodeo-riding him, he attacked me."

I sucked in sharply. "That was a cheap shot." That I'd have ridden Chamos 'til the cows came home was not a truth I wanted to admit. Not to myself, not to my angel, and sure as hell not to an angel I suspected was bat-flapping crazy.

Ursus threw my nonchalant shrug back in my face. "Doesn't make it any less true."

_Bastard._

"Up yours," I hissed.

I intended to detail the where he could shove it as well, but Devi snatched me by the shoulders and planted a kiss on my cheek. "I like you, Electus."

I nodded in response. Really, what could I say? _Great? No thanks? Oh, shit?_

"Of course you already know what she is," Ursus muttered. He scrubbed a hand down his face.

Devi, clearly enjoying herself at our expense—I just hadn't figured out the price yet—walked to the other side of the desk and settled into the chair. She kicked her feet up onto the desk, clasped her hands behind her head, and grinned. "I _am_ an Angel of Destiny."

Ursus placed his palms on the desk and leaned forward. His voice was low and controlled when he said, "Then tell me something I can use. Who is her father?"

"Couldn't tell ya."

"Devi—"

"She's the child of an Archangel. What more do you hope to learn?"

He shoved off the desk and ran a fist through his hair, sending the black strands into disarray. "She's hidden from us, and Hell, her entire life. Even at the edge of death, she survived a shift. She calls her weapon with no real effort. That takes a lot of power, Devi. More than I've ever seen in a mortal and I don't yet know what she can _do_." He expelled a heavy breath, expression shifting from frustrated to imploring and back again. "Help me help her. Please."

I swallowed, waiting, hoping for something I couldn't name or understand while they visually challenged each other. And then Devi lifted her eyes to the sky above us, her expression shifting her features as if she were listening to someone. Or something.

Who knew what kind of frat party raged in that mind of hers?

After several weird minutes, her vacant gaze lowered to me. "Only the Soul can enter the Afterlife. Once there, it requires an incredibly strong bond to reunite with the body." Her lips pinched into a tight line. "I cannot risk your destiny."

I didn't know whether to vomit or cry. Both reactions were right there, ready to go. My lungs ached with the need to breathe, but they wouldn't cooperate. Though the possibility of seeing my mom hadn't had the chance to fully form in my mind, having it ripped from my grasp left me feeling cheated. The lost opportunity crushed, even if Devi's argument that I had no business on the other side was valid.

But to be so close to my mom? I swallowed with effort. Who wouldn't love a glimpse of a loved one, of what waited after this life? Every question could be answered. Is it different for each person or do we share in the same Heaven? Do you know and love the people you knew and loved in life, or did our previous existence no longer matter? Must you go through Purgatory to reach Christ? Maybe see the face of God?

"You, I will permit," Devi announced, interrupting my thoughts. Her pointed stare at Ursus didn't convey happy-go-lucky. "One hour. At the end of that given time, if you've not returned, I'll pull you out." She regarded him from under her brows. "You know how painful that would be."

At that, my angel looked as though he'd swallowed a rabid squid. And it got stuck in his windpipe. "I understand."

Devi shook her head, as if she couldn't back the decision but wouldn't stop him either.

"Ursus." I squeezed his arm lightly, alarmed by the dizzying speed things were shifting around me. "This sounds dangerous."

"Only if she has to pull me out," he mumbled as he trailed Devi to the small couch before the fireplace. "I'll be fine."

Ursus considered the pint-sized furniture before lifting his skeptical gaze to Devi, which she returned with _take it or leave it, punk_ written all over her face _._ His grimace was hard to miss as he settled on the cushions.

My spine twitched with sympathy at the awkward V-shaped position. I tapped on the toe of one boot and lamely blurted, "Don't forget me."

In my defense, it wasn't as if I'd ever sent someone off into the Afterlife. What else should I have said—safe travels? God speed?

"As if I could."

I pulled a half smile, choosing to take it as a compliment rather than an insult. Might have been wishful thinking as he'd made it clear he had more interest in a warthog than me.

So what was up with the floating feeling under my collarbone?

_We'll call it indigestion for now._

I cleared my throat. "When you see my mom..."

_Tell her I miss her so much, that I'm so scared and need her here with me. Tell her I should have known long before now my father was an Angel._

Emotions stuck in my chest. I bit my lip, hard enough to draw blood, until I had control and, swallowing everything I wanted to say, I forced a smile. "Tell her I'm well. And I miss her."

He rested his palm against my cheek and gazed at me with such understanding and sympathy that I feared my cracking point was fast approaching. "I will."

"Ursus. You must leave your form," Devi said, breaking the moment's intimacy.

Rubbing his thumb across my cheekbone one final time, he folded his arms over his stomach and closed his eyes. His chest rose with a deep inhale, then...nothing. No twitch. No sigh.

His body relaxed into the cushions as if he'd merely slipped into sleep. His features softened, and I was suddenly looking at a different man. Angel. Whatever.

"That's it?" I turned to Devi. "What hap—holy Moses!"

She was still as stone, arms flung wide at her sides, face tilted to the night sky. But that's not what scared the hair off my cat—she'd gone head to toe white. Alabaster, ivory, mucho grande pale—take your pick.

White skin, white hair, and spooky white eyeballs _with no pupil, iris, or color of any kind!_ I knew her eyes opened only because her white lashes fluttered.

Behind her towered an equally white helix-vortex-whirlpool thing. Wind whipped through the study, carrying icy tendrils of mist.

One snuck out and curved at my neck, drawing me forward. The closer I got, the more intense the compulsion to enter the portal.

Devi's iron grip clamped on my wrist, jolting me from the semi-trance. Those colorless orbs where her eyes should have been stared holes into my skull.

I'd have nightmares if I ever slept again.

After a moment, the portal closed behind her and she released me.

"Forgive me," she said, giving herself a spastic head to toe shake. "I should've warned you that they are tempting. I'm not grooved to mortals."

A shiver ran down my spine. I pressed fingertips against my temples, massaging in small circles. I should've brought the bag with my extra panties because I was having excessive pants-shitting episodes with these angels.

_Lord, I'm in serious need of a libation._ An _alcoholic_ libation.

"Care for a drink?" Not waiting for an answer, she returned to her perch behind the desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a bottle. She placed the flagon on the wooden top and slanted the bottle for me to read its label. _Grey Goose_.

Vodka.

Oh good, she's a drunk. Quackers _and_ a boozer.

Devi snorted and poured two glasses. One, she handed to me, and the other was raised in a toast.

I lifted my glass and peered at the clear liquid "Can you hear my thoughts?" So help me, if she could read my mind, I'd toss this piddly glass aside in favor of the bottle. If I chose to fling an insult, and she chose to fling back, then fair play—game on, baby. But if she's hearing the insult before I fling it? The cart couldn't pull the horse, now could it?

She chuckled, tipping her glass in the air. "You'll need it. Ursus is learning Casimir is your father as we speak." She clicked her glass against mine. "It'll torque his ass to the _limit_."

My fingers tightened on my drink. "Wh—you said you didn't know my father."

"Noooo, I said I couldn't tell ya. Gotta keep up with these things, Joey." With that, she tossed down her drink, slammed the empty glass on the desk, and then crowed like an escaped mental patient.

# 11

I'd thought Devi was crazy the minute I laid eyes on her hair. Maybe not psychotic by DSM standards, but she and sanity had a distant relationship. Honesty didn't appear to be her strong suit, either, and as far as I was concerned, lying angels should catch fire or something.

"Angels don't catch fire."

"Aha!" I barreled up from the chair, bumping against the desk on the way and sending the lamp into a rattling dance. "I _knew_ it! Stop reading my mind."

"Stop letting me."

I blinked. Then made one of those deflating balloon sounds. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"You've hidden from divinity all your life—can you not hide from me now?" She arched a blue eyebrow.

"Well, if I could, you wouldn't know I find you insane, would you?" I was going to have to wear tinfoil hats around these jokers.

"How old are you?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"Twenty-eight."

_And my favorite color is pink. Jesus. What am I doing here?_

"Ugh, you're worse than a newborn babe." She made a sour face. "You should have control over this by now."

"I just learned of _this_ today. Think you could cut me some slack?"

"Give me your hand," she said, holding her palm out and wiggling her fingers.

I should've given her my back as I stomped my fine ass out the door, but curiosity, and the fact I had nowhere to go, paired to overrule better judgment. I placed my hand in hers and then jumped when she smacked her other one over mine. It wasn't a second later that her eyes lost all color and a strange itchy-tingle started up behind my temples. My ears popped, goosebumps sprang up all over my body. And my head felt like an unwinding ball of yarn.

I snatched my hand back before she could steal my brains or something. "What the hell are you doing?"

She leaned back in her seat and folded her arms, sizing me up with a frown. "Your headaches come from hiding. All with divine blood, both light and dark, recognize one another because we share the same essence. Rejecting your true nature will only rip you apart."

_Oh, is that all?_ And here I thought I had a serious problem. Everyone, except me, wanted me to embrace this new life, fling my cares to the wind and run free a la _The_ _Sound of Music_. Ursus warned me I couldn't escape it, and Devi had just foretold a self-induced lobotomy should I continue to resist, but I didn't want to accept it.

"Why doesn't Ursus give me a headache?" I asked.

"You've allowed yourself to see him. Probably because you want in his pants."

I jerked. "I do not."

_I'd much rather he simply took them off._

Her lips curved into a knowing smile. "Please. You lust for him like a dog for a bone."

Had she called me a dog, or a pervert? With a long, resigned exhale, I realized it didn't matter. She could call me Mother Teresa and it wouldn't change the facts. I'd never been one to throw myself at uninterested men—or interested men, for that matter—so this sudden lust issue was disconcerting.

And apparently, obvious to everyone. I drank the vodka in one gulp. It stripped a layer from my esophagus clear to my stomach, and I had to blink away the tears. "Good shit," I said in between wheezes.

"Isn't it?" Devi refilled her glass and downed a second helping before putting the bottle back in the drawer. "Since you've crapped yourself all up, I must teach you how to read."

_Crapped myself up? Is that even possible?_

I squinted at her—partly because there was still a glaze over my eyes from the alcohol. She mirrored my expression, but I couldn't tell if it was to mock me or because she also had trouble seeing.

"You're a strong receiver. I suspect you can also send, but you'll find it's easier if the one you communicate with receives as well."

"You do realize I have no idea what you're talking about, right?"

"Thoughts, Joey. Keep up. I couldn't be more clear."

Oh, yeah, she was as clear as a bell—with no one to ring it.

"Wait, wait, wait. Are you suggesting I can read thoughts?" I canted forward. As if that would clear up my confusion. "As in mind reader? _Psychic?_ "

She spread her palms and gave me a _duh_ look. "Psychic is a mortal term but, yes."

"I've never read anyone's mind," I stated. Nor had I flown or chosen winning lottery numbers.

"Hush now, baby-lady, this gift rocks. Learn it if you want to continue breathing." Her eyes twinkled with manic glee, as if she'd just offered to eat my shoes. Really, this angel needed a psych check, like right now.

Where was my surly angel and when would he return? At least with him, the rules of the game were clear. With Devi, I didn't even know what game we were playing. I massaged the back of my neck, but it didn't relieve the tension or help to clear my mind. "Shouldn't Ursus be back by now? It's been an hour."

"Oh, you don't want none of that mess." She whistled long and low. "He's gonna be ripe."

Huh? Meaning what, that he'd stink? He'd be mad, or fricking pink? "You're insane."

"Thanks." She ran her fingers through her hair and then shook herself like a puppy stepping out of the rain, changing the do from blue to fire-red. "I'm ready."

_Whoa._

"Your hair!" I had a knack for stating the obvious. I stared at the tips as they flickered in the light cast from the fire.

She propped her chin in her hands and peered at me. "As I said, you receive. You hear, sometimes even see, another's thoughts, yes? You must differentiate the sensations so you'll know when to raise or lower your shields."

"I'm not psychic, Devi. How many times do I have to tell you?" Did I need to shout to get the point across?

Her demeanor changed in a flash—from offbeat angel to pissed-off schoolmarm.

She leaned across the desk and jabbed a finger in my face. "You listen here," she bit out between gritted teeth. "Your ignorance puts you and others at risk. You will learn this, and you will learn it well. Understand?" She waited until my head bobbed in agreement before resettling in her chair. "When I read you, I took what I wanted. Yes?"

I nodded again. It was safer than giving my mouth the opportunity to get us both killed.

"Receiving pushes on you because it's something trying to get in. You feel pressure, like a hat that is too small, or a pounding or knocking." She inhaled, blew out, and closed her eyes. "Now, read me."

"What? I—didn't we skip a few chapters?" _Like the whole damn book?_

This whole situation, crazy crap that it was, was moving far too fast for me. I pushed up from the chair and headed for the door. Where to go or what to do wasn't on my give-a-crap meter; self-preservation was.

The door vanished just as I reached for the knob. I curled my hand into a fist and took in a deep breath.

"Calm down. You'll accomplish nothing if your heart explodes."

I spun on her. " _That_ doesn't help."

She came around the side of the desk and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of me. With a pointed look at the spot next to her, she said, "Come, sit."

"I'd rather—"

"Oh, did that come across as a suggestion?"

Impossible to miss that warning. I hesitated, but then did as instructed. Besides, what else could I do? Bang on the wall where the door should've been?

Devi grabbed my wrists and turned my palms face up before resting them on my thighs. She positioned herself the same. "Close your eyes, forget your worries, and relax."

Relax, sure. That was like telling a condemned man to sit back and enjoy the noose around his neck. Still, I didn't have the balls to tell my new gal pal no, so I copied her posture, slowed my breathing, and did my best to set aside the last twelve hours.

She gave me less than ten seconds before her quiet, "You're not trying," chased away the silence.

"I am trying, but you're about as soothing as a gunshot," I retorted. "Maybe it's not working because you've got the _wrong girl_."

"Nope." She shuffled closer, bumping her knees against mine. "I know your father, I know how Ursus feels about you, and I know what you will or will not do three years and ten seconds from now. The answers to your questions." She tapped her skull. "Come and get them."

I snorted. The tart might as well have taken me up in an airplane, traded my parachute for a hair bow, and then shoved me out the door with a, "Go get 'em, tiger!"

The task was insurmountable from where I stood. And yet, the scheming harpy had answers and was offering them up for a "small" price.

Wiping my slick palms on my shorts, I tried again to focus on Devi. Her wild hair, her crazy smile, those enigmatic green eyes. I don't know how long I concentrated, but I was on the verge of declaring it useless when a cool mist invaded into my skull. My heart pounded against my ribcage.

"Find me," Devi whispered, and I couldn't tell if the taunt came from beside me or in my head. I knew I wasn't really seeing the smoke, or fog, or whatever the hell it was so clear in my mind that I reached out, but it disintegrated at my touch.

"We are not playing in the physical realm, Joey." Her voice was soft, almost sleepy.

While I knew I couldn't snatch her thoughts out of thin air like a baseball, knowing what wouldn't work didn't help me figure out what would. I licked my lips. "I don't know how."

_Yes, you do._

I jumped at the words that were definitely in my head. The following silence reminded me of a breath held in anticipation and sent a shiver down my spine. I opened my mouth to ask how, then snapped it shut. I had to figure it out on my own or not at all.

For some ungodly reason, a fishing pole popped into my head. Whether she or I had put it there didn't really matter, as it was an idea. Right? Still, if a fishing pole was the best I could come up with, it was no wonder I couldn't reach her.

I cast my line and hook into the fog, fully expecting failure.

When something tugged in answer, a jolt of excitement shot through me and I rushed forward. I should have known better than to think there would be no consequences to this game. The connection, or whatever it was, snapped and came back to me a lot faster than I sent it out. And it did play in the physical world.

Pain exploded behind my temples. "Ow!" I howled, clutching my head.

"Well done, baby lady."

Moaning, I kept my eyes in their sockets with my fingertips. Had I taken an actual hit? Better yet, sustained brain damage? It sure as hell felt as though I had. "I didn't get anything."

"Well, if I let you in my head, yours would implode. Good job, though." She pinched my cheek and jiggled it a moment before springing up from the floor.

I dropped my hands and blinked her into focus. Two Devis. That was a problem. I squinted until the two melted into one. "Next time, go on and punch me in the face. It will be just as effective, I promise."

"And you'd learn what?"

"Not to trust you, which I must say seems an essential lesson right about now."

She gave me one of her sly grins and leaned against the edge of her desk. "Let's work on your shields."

_Oh, could we?_

"One brain injury isn't enough for you?" Because, seriously, I couldn't take another. She'd handed me my mental ass, and I needed a short breather before the next shakedown. "I'd rather not. This whole—" I searched for the proper term. Farce? Buffoonery? Or my personal favorite, psychotic break? –"Thing isn't my thing."

"I don't recall you being such a ninny."

My jaw dropped. "I'm not a ninny. And what do you mean, recall? We just met."

"Okay," she said, somehow turning her one word sentence into a challenge.

"Don't agree with me. It makes me schizophrenic," I grumbled, giving her my back in search of a moment's peace. My hands shook when I rubbed my eyes.

"I do like you, ninny," she said. "We shall visit when this is over."

"Over?" I asked, hope gurgling in my chest. Over, as in finished, task completed? As an Angel of Destiny, she knew better than anyone if I'd cross the finish line in one piece. "Are you saying that I'll still be standing when this is all said and done?"

"Nope," the tart chirped. "Though it is not your destiny to perish, your fate is your own. I promise nothing."

Well, that logic was... confusing. My head tilted to the side. "Aren't destiny and fate the same thing?"

She waved a hand, clearly dismissing my argument. "Destiny is the path God created for you. Written in stone, it's what is _meant_. Fate is what you _choose_."

"I see." No, I didn't. Talking with her was worse than traveling abroad without your foreign to English dictionary. She made sense in a distant, ambiguous, _I'm not really telling you shit_ kind of way. With my minimal understanding and non-existent decoder ring, that left me in the backwoods of utterly lost. "So, just for clarification purposes, what's my destiny?"

"Couldn't tell ya,"

"Thank you so much, Miss Delirium." I rubbed the grit from my eyes and yawned. "What time is it?"

"We are not governed by your time, but it is a new dawn," she said, then gave me that _I gnaw on yak testicles_ smile.

I took it to mean she didn't give a fig it was morning. "Okay, well... okay. I don't suppose you people sleep?" I yawned, giving her a spectacular view of my tonsils.

"Not my itch, but I understand your weak, dainty body needs to shut down."

"Oh. Thank you?" This weak, dainty body would love to shut down. Only then did it dawn on me that the bag I'd packed for a night at Shula's was in the backseat of my car. I had no clothes, no toothbrush, and nowhere to slip into that temping coma called sleep.

That loss made everything else that had happened seem so much worse. My chin hit my chest, and if I had any energy left, I'd have cried like a baby.

"Don't cry, baby-lady," Devi said.

"Stay out of my head," I groaned. Well, more like pleaded. It wasn't as if I could command her. Or that she'd listen anyway. I needed a damn security system to fend off her mental burglary.

"You need to work on those shields." She gave me a pat on the cheek and then spun me around to face the other direction. A door, one I was pretty damn sure hadn't been there before, stood in the middle of the room. Just a door. Without walls.

I edged closer and peered around the side. The fire still roared and Ursus was still sacked out on the loveseat.

"Go on. Open the door, human," Devi instructed.

_Said the spider to the terrified, and mentally and physically exhausted fly._ I hesitated, but then twisted the knob and pushed, fully expecting to see the fireplace and my angel on the other side.

Instead I found my bedroom. In my _house_.

Surprise rendered me mute for a beat. Turning to look at her, I asked, "My room?"

"Eh," she wiggled her hand side to side. "A replica. You need sleep, probably more so than usual as Heaven is taxing on the physical form. Go to bed."

That was the best thing I'd heard all day, but as much as I needed sleep, I doubted my mind would stop racing long enough. I started to cross into the room and then paused, turned back, and asked, "You know more about my father than his name, don't you?"

Dead air.

The lump that had formed in my throat grew more uncomfortable the longer she remained silent. I nodded acknowledgment of my faux pas, and started to turn away.

"Your father believed in his choices. Despite him defying all of Heaven to love your mother, he was respected and admired, even among the most righteous of our kind."

I took another go at swallowing the emotions rising in my throat. Her answer wasn't what I had expected, and it left me uncertain as to how to respond. Her being a mind reader and all, I figured I didn't need to.

Crossing the threshold into the room that was mine but not, I headed straight for the bed and fell face first onto the mattress with the intent of falling asleep or smothering in the next ten seconds—I wasn't picky.

Something thumped next to my head. I peeled open an eye to glare.

"Oh hey, my jammies." I snaked the pile of pink flannel and hugged it close. It was the little things. "Thanks."

"Yep, yep." She said, heading for the door.

"Hold up a sec, Devi." When she turned, I glanced at the dresser. "Are the rest on my clothes here too?

"No." She winked. "You'll thank me later."

I'd thank her for leaving me with bloody, sweat-soaked clothes? Hmmm. She got that one wrong. Still, I'd sleep comfortably tonight, so I couldn't complain too much.

She sidled up next to the bed, crossed her arms, and considered me. "There is one other thing."

It was the way she said it that sent tension through my limbs. I sensed a bomb—something unpleasant, like _oh, by the way, Ursus is your gay half brother._

Or _your mother is really a chinchilla_.

"There has been only one other female Electus." She hesitated, brows furrowing, and just when the weight pressing on my chest couldn't get any heavier, she said, "Ursus was her Grigori as well, and she wanted her destiny even less than you want yours."

Scooting backwards on the bed, I situated myself as comfortably as I could and asked, "What happened?"

"They fought. A lot. Ursus left her alone—not long, but enough for Satan to offer a deal—her servitude for the life of her children."

I shook my head. "This is none of my business. Don't tell me any—"

"She agreed before Satan revealed they'd already been slaughtered," she said, plowing over me. "Ursus doesn't know she now serves Hell. He believes himself guilty for the death of his charge and her family."

My stomach lurched. Poor Ursus. It was no wonder he wanted nothing to do with me—I was another defiant half-breed who was sure to end in flames. "I don't know what to say—"

Quick as a snake, she closed the distance between us. Before I could process that she'd moved, she had my arms clenched in her hands and was hauling me forward. "Your destiny is to face the Beast. Everyone, especially those you care for, will be used against you." She shook me hard, as if I'd argued with her. "You'll endure the loss of your life, bribes, destruction, lavishness—whatever it takes to satisfy the Devil."

I sucked down a gulp of air, and maybe a few teeth loosened from her shaking me like a chew toy. Despite wanting nothing more of this conversation, I heard myself ask, "What satisfies the devil?"

"Ruin."

# 12

Voices broke through my much-needed sleep, dragging me into consciousness. I blinked the room into focus, stifled a yawn, and for one blissful second, thought the worst day ever had been nothing more than a bizarre dream.

A sharp, high-pitched whistle shattered the illusion.

"You look as though you've been making out with death." Devi's words chased away the last vestiges of sleep. I sat up, gaze locked on the closed door as I waited for her to walk through it.

Stumbling footsteps sounded, followed by an irritated grunt, and then a hard stomp.

"Where is she?" My heart fluttered at Ursus' deep, scratchy voice.

"Sit, before your legs give out. I warned you it was painful to reestablish the connection with your physical form, but you had to barrel through the other side to find out on your own."

"Where's Joey?" The question was coated in impatience.

"She's sleeping, and I'd like to keep her that way. Why don't you go to Earth and kill something ugly?"

My brows lifted at her tone. I hadn't a clue what brought it on, but unwilling to miss a word, I scooted along the mattress, and perched on the edge, canting toward the door.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he said.

"So you could stab the messenger? I'd rather not." Devi let out a heavy sigh. "You were no more ready to face the truth than she was."

Face the truth? I rubbed circles over my gritty eyelids and stifled another yawn before pushing off the bed. I tiptoed to the door, careful not to make a sound. My gaze fixed on the knob. One twist, and I'd be a part of the conversation instead of the subject of it. I swallowed, hand hovering over the lever.

"So you let me find out from Joey's mother?" The stomp of his boots vibrated the door, threatening to drown out their voices.

"Get control of yourself," Devi hissed. "You want to scare her; send her scurrying right into their arms?"

"Scare _her_? _I'm_ about to run into their arms." More aggravated stomps. I pictured him pacing the room, that dark scowl etched over his face. He did that a lot. "What am I supposed to do with her?"

"Protect her as you would any other charge."

"But she's not any other charge, is she?"

The fine hairs at the back of my neck stood as a chill scurried down my spine. I pressed closer to the door, wishing I was invisible so I could slip through and listen to their conversation without their knowledge. Sort of creepy, but I was okay with that.

"You knew. _You_ , Michael, Gabriel—you all let me think she was a Blessed."

"You're upset—"

" _Upset?_ "

"Fine. You want to pick your teeth with my bones. Is that better, princess?"

Nearly choking on a laugh, I planted a hand over my mouth, praying it stifled the noise. Devi had gone on the attack and wasn't pulling any punches. The question was, why?

"She's a child of prophecy, Ursus. If you'd known what she was, would you've taken the assignment?"

His silence was answer enough. It shouldn't have hurt my feelings. It wasn't as if it came as a surprise that he didn't want me as his charge. Hell, _I_ wouldn't want me as a charge, especially after what I'd learned about his last one. Still, the rejection stung.

"As Gabriel's first in command, and the only Grigori to protect another female Electus, you are her best chance. She's the first of her kind. We don't want her to be the last."

"She's more us than them."

As far as sucker punches went, this one hit low. And hard. I stumbled away from the door, suddenly wishing I hadn't eavesdropped. I should've stayed in bed, pulled the covers over my head, and ignored the voices. But no, I had to be nosy, hadn't I? And gotten an earful. More than I bargained for, that's for sure.

_She's more us than them._

Ursus jerked open the door. I froze, one foot in the air, brain grappling for a reasonable explanation as to why I'd been lurking.

Smoothing my hands down my pajamas, I pasted on an innocent, _no, I wasn't sneaking_ smile. "Hey. You're back."

My smile wavered when he ran that scowl over me. He started at my feet, taking in the pink flannel bottoms up to its matching tank top. For some reason, facing him in my pajamas made me uncomfortable. As if I wasn't already vulnerable enough around him, he was getting an up close and personal look at my bed head. There really was no mercy in the universe.

"I thought you were sleeping." He traced my retreating steps into the room and pulled the door shut with a soft click.

"I was." I ran my palms down my pants again. "I heard voices."

Tension crackled in the air. I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth, afraid to say the wrong thing. So I just stood there, gnawing my lip like a starving beaver, waiting for him to say something, anything, instead of regarding me with a distant, unreadable expression.

He pushed by me on a purposeful stride. "Go to bed. We'll start fresh in the morning." Lowering himself into the only chair, he stretched out his legs with a hiss, laced his fingers over his stomach, and shut his eyes.

"I thought angels didn't sleep," I said. Not that I wanted to continue the marvelous conversation we'd been having.

He made no effort to contradict me. Hell, he didn't even acknowledge me.

My mouth full of questions, I considered pushing. However, judging by his frigid persona, he'd answer my questions no sooner than never. Part of me was grateful to avoid the confrontation. The other half resented him keeping things from me.

I visually traced his shadowy figure in the dark. He didn't twitch, sigh, or give any indication he knew I watched him, though he must've sensed my agitation.

Shaking my head, I returned to my bed and crawled under the covers, more weary and disillusioned than ever. I didn't expect to sleep again with everything rattling around in my cranium, but as soon as I hit the pillow, I fell into nightmares far too close to reality.

# 13

Everything ached as if I'd slept in traffic. And no wonder. Ursus' body was as unbending as the pavement. I stayed tucked against his ribs, my head resting on his shoulder. Heat poured from him and soaked into my abused muscles. I curled my arm over his chest and basked in the furnace that was my angel.

"Joey?"

He would have to wake up after I got comfortable. My lips flapped when I huffed. "Wake up under a woman often enough you need to ask my name?"

"I don't usually sleep," he grumbled and threw an arm across his eyes.

I lifted my head to look at him. "Uh, I was looking for a 'no' there." Not the rousing denial I'd expected. My fingertips drummed over his sternum. "So, why are you in my bed, angel cakes? My charm finally won you over, huh?" Putting a husky, sultry tone in my voice, I said, "Did I take advantage of you last night?"

"Wh-what?" His eyes flew open. A wiggle of my eyebrows had him barking a laugh. "Shut up."

I giggled with him. Who knew waking with Ursus could be such fun, so normal, so right? I shied away from that edge. I knew the rules. He, angel. Me, charge. Us, no go.

I rolled a knot from my neck. "Seriously, I thought you were hibernating in the chair. Why are you over here, thieving my covers?" I yanked on the blanket and for a second my heart stopped at the possibility of revealing a glorious, naked Ursus.

Nope.

He wore the same clothes as yesterday. A shaky exhale fluttered my bangs. Every thought of him put me that much closer to the edge of a dark, forbidden abyss.

He made a disgruntled noise about the covers and sat up. Running a hand over his face, he said, "You were crying in your sleep."

"The hell you say. I don't cry."

"You did last night."

"W-well." I crossed my arms over my chest. It didn't help. I still felt vulnerable and exposed. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"I tried. You wouldn't wake," he said, scratching his collarbone. "You just whimpered and curled into a tighter ball."

No way. I wouldn't have slept through him shaking me. And I'd have remembered a nightmare that bad. Wouldn't I? My chin thrust forward. "So you crawled into my bed?"

I intended the barb to drip sarcasm, maybe a bit of derision. Instead it came out as an offer. I coughed the frog from my esophagus.

"You wouldn't stop until I pulled you against me." His gaze leveled on mine. "I held you all night."

"That's ridiculous," I said, springing from the bed. My hand shook when I ran it across my brow. Why was I suddenly feverish?

He didn't respond. He didn't have to. If he said he'd held me all night, then he'd held me all damn night. That wasn't the problem. The problem was I wanted those biceps folded around me, and not just to keep the nightmares at bay.

This fantasy about the two of us had to stop. No matter how right it seemed, it was an impossibility that would only wreak havoc with my emotions. And seriously, my emotions needed no more havoc.

I made a show of straightening my pajama bottoms, wondering why I bothered with them. They bunched at the knees and twisted around my waist while I slept. Though, considering I'd spent my night wrapped around Ursus like a baby koala, I was glad to have them as another barrier between my angel and me.

He stood on the far side of the bed, arms reaching high above his head as he stretched the kinks from his...

His shirt lifted with the movement and revealed a tight line of abs.

_Oh mama._

I gnawed my lip before pulling my gaze away. "Coffee."

He paused mid-stretch. "Sorry?"

"Coffee," I repeated with an edge. "Please tell me you have coffee here."

He dropped his arms with a frown. "This is Heaven, not a hotel, Joey."

"Exactly. Heaven should have coffee. If not, well, it's not Heaven." _Duh_.

"We should've started your training yesterday. And we have...things to discuss."

The last bit passed his lips low and slow. I knew he wanted to talk about what I'd overheard. Getting into the specifics didn't appeal to me this morning anymore than it had last night. In fact, if we never spoke of their conversation at all, I'd sing the praises of ignorant bliss for the rest of my days.

"Um, you're not hearing me. You drag me off to a different realm—one only dead people come to, by the way—and I agreed to play Skywalker to your Yoda. The least you can do is find me a cup of damn coffee."

"I have no idea what you said. What is a Yoda?"

Sometimes I forgot he didn't belong to my race, that he was an angel, not a man. "He's a short, green know-it-all with really big ears."

Ursus hand flew up to trace his hairline as if trying to check his ears on the sly. I laughed. He scowled. We were back on track.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

I cocked my head. He wore incredulous well. "It's so cute you keep asking me that."

"You do realize I have to go to Earth to get it for you."

I hadn't realized. Even better. I needed a little space from him and everything else non-human. My life had spiraled into an out of control tilt-a-whirl and I couldn't get off the ride. I gave him my most appreciative smile. "Thanks, that'd be great. Four creams, four sugars. Oh, and don't bring me decaf."

He muttered something about pushy women on his stomp-fest to the door, which he yanked so hard the knob slipped from his fingers and banged against the wall.

"You, on the other hand, should avoid caffeine," I mentioned. Helpfully.

Blasting a glower over his shoulder, he slammed the door behind him.

I stood, fingers curled at my waist, and stared at the closed door. It wasn't so much that I needed coffee—though my mouth watered with anticipation, as did my brain cells that couldn't function without it—but the distance. I'd rolled out of bed yesterday with a load of human problems, the worst of which I'd thought was a brain tumor. This morning I woke up in Heaven, next to an angel—which was mighty awesome until I added in my heritage bit and demons all over. It was a mind warp I needed to sort through, but thinking straight was impossible with him snapping directions.

Ursus pushed me at every turn—go, go, go, train, train, train—but I couldn't catch my breath much less get on board. An overwhelming sense of futility crawled onto my shoulders. I was a puppet on their strings and had no idea where they were leading me.

My mind drifted to last night's conversation. I'd heard enough through the door to realize the full truth was dangerous to my mental health. And nothing I wanted to deal with.

Figuring it was my one chance for a shower before Drill Sergeant Ursus dragged me off to play ant to my grasshopper, I pulled open a dresser drawer in search of clean clothes.

And stared at the bare wood.

Devi had given me Pj's the night before and nothing else. With a groan, I trudged to the shower that matched mine and cranked the spray to high, letting it run full blast while I brushed my teeth, then stripped and stepped into the stall.

A delighted sigh rolled out as hot water rained over me and washed away everything but the burn. I stood under the spray until it lost most of its heat, then did my washing business, shut off the water, and stepped out, snagging the towel from its hook.

I blotted my hair dry and, combing my fingers through the spiky mess, smoothed the fringes around my face. Hair done, I dried my body, wrapped the towel around me, and tucked the end under my armpit.

I glanced at the dirty, rumpled clothes from yesterday and nudged the pile with my toe. Nuh-huh. My shorts managed to miss the blood and guts that stained my shirt, but I still didn't relish the idea of wearing them. I so didn't want that stinking mess next to my squeaky clean skin. That left me with my pajama top. And no bra.

"Hell." Resigned, I dropped the towel and reached for the rumpled tank.

The door banged open. Ursus strode in with a paper cup clenched in his fist and a put upon look on his face.

An electrocuted rabbit couldn't have jumped higher than I did. "Out!"

He came to a stop as if he'd walked into a pane of glass. His perpetual scowl melted, leaving behind wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

I hoped if we remained still as statues we wouldn't notice one another. It wasn't working for me. He didn't seem to excel at it either.

I snatched the towel from the bed and whipped it around my middle, snugger than a pair of too small pantyhose. "Uh...I didn't expect you so soon," I said. It came out a strangled gurgle.

His expression shifted and tightened. Blue eyes burned, making me feel like a naked little piggy trapped by the big, bad wolf. And Mr. Wolfie wanted some bacon.

Next thing I knew, he was standing before me, ripping the towel from my hands.

I crossed my arms over my breasts with a squeak. "This is a bad idea."

His fingertip trailed my collarbone, bringing cool goose bumps to my hot flesh. "Yes."

"Definitely shouldn't do this." But we were going to. He knew it. I knew it.

I swayed towards him, shivering with anticipation.

He cupped my neck and pulled me against him. Nudging my folded arms out of his way, he slid his other palm down the valley between my breasts. My armor crumbled at the soft touch.

God help me, I wouldn't have fought if I could. I let my head fall back on my shoulders and my eyes rolled closed.

"No. Look at me," he commanded.

Butterflies dive-bombed my stomach. I opened my lids to find his mouth a lick away. My tongue darted out. He watched it glide across the rim of my lips before capturing it with his mouth.

His kiss was brutal. Harsh. And hot as hell. It didn't ask for permission, it dominated. His fingers dug into my hips, fitting me against his erection.

I whimpered and arched into him, but it wasn't enough. My flesh was on fire for his touch.

"I'm naked," I murmured as his lips traveled over my collarbone. His growl hummed a straight line down to my thighs, turning my legs to useless twigs. "You're not. It's a problem."

I tugged the hem of his shirt, and drew the fabric over his head when he lifted his arms.

He stood motionless and let me feast on his perfection. He was an Adonis, the superior male specimen. I slid my fingers along the chiseled lines of his stomach, amazed at the softness of his skin.

He sucked in sharply. His eyelids slid shut as my touch wandered to the waistband of his jeans. Emboldened, I angled towards him and flicked my tongue over the vein at the base of his neck. A spark, as if I'd grabbed a live wire, zinged through my bones. I jerked in his arms. "What the hell was that?"

"Who the hell cares?" He crowded forward, pinning me between him and the wall. The promise in his eyes and the heat of his body against mine squelched my doubts.

"That," said a female voice, "was a warning."

We both turned into wide-eyed statues. I tilted my head to see around Ursus and found Devi, hands on her hips, glaring at my angel. The scream left my mouth before I knew it was waiting at the door.

Ursus jerked and gave me a black scowl. I shrugged in apology. What did he expect? We'd been caught playing spin the bottle, act three, without the damn bottle.

Blue brows furrowed over her narrowed eyes. After a quick once-over for me, she turned her grievance on Ursus. "Nice boner."

_We're. So. Dead._

Ursus angled himself to shield me and flashed his teeth over his shoulder. "Get out."

"Oh, I don't think so." She jerked her chin at Ursus. "You get out."

Anger clenched his jaw and, for one terrifying heartbeat, I thought he'd challenge her. Instead, he bent, picked up my lost towel and held it open. Feeling like the only naked kid in class—because I _was_ —I kept my eyes glued to my feet and lifted my arms as he wrapped the towel around my middle and tucked the ends in front. He snatched his shirt in the same brisk manner and left without a see you later or up yours.

Devi watched him until the door slammed at his back and turned to me with a bright smile. "See? I told you you'd thank me later." She thrust a bundle in my face, forcing me to grab it or get hit, and then shifted out with a lingering, "You're welcome."

I glanced at the folded pile of clothes and, not giving a rip if she'd brought me a tutu or a snowsuit, donned them quicker than a jacked-up chimp. I broke a speed record. Hell, I might've broken the sound barrier I dressed so fast.

The plain white tee and black yoga pants fit just right, making me wonder where Devi got the clothes. They weren't mine. Did she go to Earth to fetch the duds or pull them, and a matching white rabbit, out of a hat?

She also left a white sports bra, which I could live with, but the underwear? They were the most effective chastity belt she could've picked, as I wouldn't let myself look upon them much less Ursus. They were U.G.L.Y. with a capital chaste.

Once clothed, I had nothing to do but find my angel.

I stared at the door. Then picked up the Starbucks cup and set it on the dresser. The lid had saved most of the liquid from running on the floor, but as much as I hated to let the frothy goodness go to waste, my somersaulting belly wasn't interested.

Straightening the bed and hanging the towel on its rack in the bathroom took all of two minutes. Because my nerves couldn't handle the uncertainty any longer, I squared my shoulders and opened the door, expecting to step into Devi's study.

A windowless room, glowing bright as the lens of a flashlight stuck in the on position, greeted me.

"Uh. Hello?" I peeked around the doorway. The light blinded. I shielded my eyes with a hand and stepped into the whiteness. "Yoo-hoo! I think your transport system has a glitch. Or something..."

Unease slowed my steps. The hairs on my arms stood up. I inched back towards the door.

"Arm yourself."

I whirled with a shriek. Ursus stood rigid, his grip tight around his sword. He swung at my neck.

"Holy mother of hell!" I dropped to a crouch and dived to the side, avoiding a high and tight by inches. "Ursus! It's me!"

He took another stab, blade tip aimed at my heart. I darted around the jab and called my weapon, then stumbled when its weight settled into my palm. I thrust it in front of me and edged back. Why did my angel want to turn me into a human shish-ka-bob?

"Every time I make out with you, you turn into a real prick, you know that?"

Derision curled his lip. He circled me, slow and deliberate. I turned with him, but in my haste to keep him in sight, my feet got tangled up and dumped me on my ass. Ursus lunged and brought his sword down.

His blade sliced my bicep. I made a kicked donkey kind of sound and shot to my feet. Blood trickled from the cut to my wrist. I pointed my blade at his heart. "You witless dickhead! What's wrong with you?"

He hunkered, eyes alight with anticipation, and motioned me forward. "Fight me."

"Fight you? You been snorting glue?" I shook my sword. "This weighs more than I do, you ignorant shit."

"Fight me!"

"Bite me!"

We glared at one another as if our dirty looks were a more potent threat than the long knives in our hands. He stomped across the floor and batted my blade aside. It thudded at my feet. Anchoring his fingers in the fleshy part of my arms, he hauled me against him, eyes glowing eerie bright.

"You have more power in that scrawny, human body than half the angels in my garrison." He gave me a thorough shake. "The blood running through your veins recognizes the weapon. Therefore, the only reason you can't use your sword is because you don't _want_ to use your sword." He released me with a rough shove. His voice dropping low, he said, "Now, pick up your weapon."

I clenched my jaw in a physical effort not to slam my forehead into his perfect white teeth, then grabbed the sword, and chucked it across the room.

Ursus whipped around, yelling something about manhandling my weapon. I tore his from his fist and pitched it as well.

Then I wiped the indignant look off his mug with a right hook. Satisfaction lifted my lips as his head snapped back. His gut took the next punch. He grunted and then, wiping the blood from his lip, gave me a visual beat down.

His fury fueled my own, leaving me feeling invincible. I aimed a kick at his chin. He caught my foot and pushed me back. Then the bastard shifted.

"Hey!" I stumbled to stay on my feet as I turned a circle. Where'd he go? "Rotten lowdown trick."

He reappeared in front of me. Before I could react, much less defend myself, his palm slammed my sternum into my spine. A vacuum imploded beneath my ribs. I crumpled around my abused lungs and sucked in deep gulps of air. My hands propped on my knees were the only things keeping me from the floor. "You...dirty...bastard."

Ursus hitched his thumb at his chest and cocked a brow.

I snorted and massaged my rib cage, half expecting the bones to crumble under my fingertips. "Yeah you, ya sneaky cheat."

"Shifting is necessary to survive. Learn it." He gave me his back and then glanced over his shoulder. "Now, if I wanted to cheat..."

My spine straightened, followed by my arms shooting out to the side in a direct line from my shoulders. All at his command.

"I would do something like that," he finished, turning to watch me struggle.

"Point taken."

"I doubt it," he muttered. My arms fell when he released me. Ursus cupped my face and forced me to meet his eyes. "We fight demons, Joey, unholy beasts with the strength of ten men. Accepting isn't enough. Embrace what you are. Use your weapon; use your _power_. They're a part of you."

"I don't know how," I whispered.

His thumb slid across my cheekbone. "Yes, you do. If you'll just stop fighting it."

Survival depended on the ability to defend myself, to kill or be killed. But what kind of life was that? To constantly look over my shoulder for the next attack. What part of myself would I lose to live? And would I even want to with what was left?

_She's barely human._

I pressed my cheek into his warm palm. "I'm scared."

"I know. But I'm here. I won't let you fail."

I agreed with a curt nod.

"Good." His hand retreated, leaving a chilly emptiness in its wake. He gathered our weapons and came back to my side. "To kill a demon, you must take its head. And to do that, you must _learn your sword_."

He held out my blade.

I hesitated and then took it, ignoring the plummeting feeling in the pit of my stomach. "Yeah, okay," I muttered, and then with a pointed look at the gash on my arm added, "But teach me how before using it to kick my ass again. Deal?"

He chuckled and raised his weapon. "No."

# 14

After three days of kicking ass—mostly mine—I was sick to death of sparing. I was battered, exhausted, and frustrated. And a better fighter. I was faster, stronger, and more focused. He'd made me a more effective opponent, forcing me to hone my reflexes to stay on my feet.

The savage prick.

He tortured with glee—so much so I wondered if he got paid on commission. Mr. Slice-and-Dice informed me, repeatedly, I hadn't connected with my angelic strength, and until I did, the beat downs would continue. He took my punches as if I were a buzzing fly while every one of his hits crushed my bones.

He called this a fair fight?

I consoled myself with the fact I'd broken his nose—twice. Which healed in seconds, taking a little wind out of my sails. However, he hadn't broken my nose, now had he?

For three days, which I knew passed because I still wore my watch and counted every wretched second spent with the churlish yahoo, he called me unflattering names and refused me sleep for more than a few hours at a time. My mind and body were worn to the point of shut down.

And still we fought.

He'd let me starve until I was so hungry I'd have fed on a bear. Live. I ate only when he broke down after hours of begging and even that was grudging.

I'd get three to four hours of sleep before he pulled me from bed to whoop my ass again.

Bathroom breaks? He didn't need to pee. Why should I? I considered a leg-lifting Chihuahua routine but couldn't stomach the degradation.

So I stood, wrenched from dreamland, sporting a raging case of halitosis and damn serious bed head. He didn't bother with pleasantries like, "How was your sleep, Joey?" Or, "Would you like a shower before I maim you this morning?"

No, he got straight down to business. And not anywhere near the kind of business I'd have liked to conduct. He'd paid me no interest since Devi rained on my make-out parade. The fact I cared at all filled me with alternating bouts of disgust and humiliation.

He shoved a steaming cup of coffee into my hand and waited—if I called stomping his foot and glaring waiting—as he did every time he pulled me from bed. After the first day, he brought me my go-go juice without complaint, knowing I needed my fix before the bloodshed began.

I gulped the scalding brew, not caring if it stripped my esophagus, and eyed him over the cup's rim. "Do I get a shower this morning, boss?"

I hadn't showered in, well, I wasn't sure exactly but it'd been a while. My hair stood up in spikes. Grime and sweat covered my abused body. I looked bad. Really bad.

He eyed my antlered coif as if he expected me to head-butt him. I considered it as I sipped the rest of my coffee. He shifted from one foot to the other, like a tamer approaching a wild lion.

My palm slapped against my forehead. "You're right. I'm just going to get stabbed anyway." I placed the empty cup on the floor. "So, what's on the agenda today? Dismemberment?"

"Scalping?" I wiggled my brows and held my arms out in front of me, tugging on one wrist, then the other. "We haven't tried that yet. Sounds fun."

At his blank look, I wondered if he'd built up a tolerance to my nettling. That wouldn't do. Like trying to provoke a dead rattler, it was pointless unless you counted the perverse satisfaction I got out of it.

"Oh, I've got one. How about Chinese death by a thousand paper cuts? That turn ya on?"

Apparently I no longer did.

He crossed his arms and leaned back, one shoulder resting on air. I canted to the side and peered around him. Something held him up but damned if I knew what. He raised one brow when I scowled at the invisible wall at his back.

"This place is just too weird."

"I have a gift for you," he said.

I straightened and dropped the attitude. "You've got my attention."

His mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Raphael."

Behind Ursus appeared a man. Of course, he towered over me and was show-stopping gorgeous. His skin, the color of milk chocolate and just as smooth, stood in defiant contrast to his vibrant blue eyes. Rigid masculine lines defined a face straight out of dreams.

Yep, another Archangel.

"Hi." The crafty madam in me had him in a Speedo and standing in front of my zoom lens. If these boys would take the cover of our calendar, I'd never worry over finances again.

He thrust out his hands, revealing a gleaming knife.

Thoughts of calendar layouts fled. I froze mid-inhale. The blade ran the length of my forearm, glowing from within the blade. I stepped closer to get a better look at the strange symbols etched along the blade's edge and the large sapphire seated at the hilt.

"Mine?" I turned to Ursus.

He waved at the weapon. "Please."

Excitement curled my fingers around the dagger. As soon as the grip transferred from Raphael's grasp to mine, heat seared a line from my wrist to my neck.

"Holy balls!" I dropped the dagger and clutched my injured arm, curling it protectively against my body. I spun on Ursus with a snarled, "You knew that would happen."

"You have claimed the obelisk as your own," announced Raphael as he bowed low. "No demon shall touch it and no other shall use it against you."

Then he vanished.

I blinked at the empty space before turning back to Ursus. "Not cool, by the way. I could've lost my arm."

He sighed. "I had the dagger made for you. I'm sorry it hurt, but that's how you claim the weapon. I thought you'd like your own blade."

"You made it for me?" A knife was no bouquet of roses or a diamond ring, but my insides turned to mush all the same.

His cheeks colored. "Raphael is our weapons master. I asked him to make a saber better suited to you. The sword recognizes your blood as your father's, thus allowing you to wield it." His shoulders lifted in a self-conscious gesture. "I thought you needed something belonging only to you."

I welcomed a weapon more my size because, though I was getting better with the sword, it was big and cumbersome. I'd come to anticipate its weighted heat almost as if it were a long-lost friend. And didn't that thought wig me out to no end.

"Thank you, Ursus. It was very thoughtful."

His head ducked down over his chest and he gave me a sheepish shrug, clearly uncomfortable. So, to put him at ease because I cared about his feelings and all, I said, "It was still really dickish."

I snickered at his incredulous look. "Okay, so I claimed the dagger like my father claimed the sword? So...I'm the only one who can use them, yes?"

"Correct."

I glanced down at his weapon. "Huh. Yours looks a lot like mine. What if I grabbed it by mistake?"

"You will not."

"Um, but what if I do?"

Irritation narrowed his eyes. "Against a mortal or demon it would be difficult to use as it wasn't created for you. Should you attempt to use it on me, the consequences would...hurt."

"Hurt." My hands slid to my hips. A comatose swamp rat could see he was hedging. "By hurt, do you mean paper cut or broken bones?"

"The pain upon claiming the dagger..."

"Yeah?"

"Would consume you. For eternity." His eyes went all twitchy-like, landing on everything but the irritated ginger before him.

"That's funny. I thought you just said if I grabbed your sword and oh, I don't know, swung it at your big dumb head, I'd flame broil forever."

He muttered an oath and swiped a hand over his jaw line. "That's not what I said."

"It most certainly is! You said—"

"You won't grab the wrong sw—"

"Bullshit."

He bared his teeth. "Joey."

"Oh balls no!" I thrust my pointer finger at his sword. "They look alike." If he couldn't see how similar the two blades were, he wasn't smart enough to get an opinion and therefore, I had no interest in his side of the argument.

"Shut up!" His fingers got caught up in his hair as if wrestling it. "Even in complete darkness, you shall recognize your weapons from others. Call your sword."

When I crossed my arms, he bellowed, "Do it, woman!"

"Okay, okay. No need to get squirrely." I shifted a blade into each hand with too much ease. "What now?"

"Give me your sword." He held out his palm. " _Hilt_ first."

I passed it over with a stomp of my foot. He shifted his and placed them together on the floor. Then thrust his hand out for me to take and, like an idiot, I did. He shifted us out and back within the space of a second.

I jerked out of his grasp. "You know I hate that."

"Learn to do it yourself. It won't hurt so much."

My brows pulled an inverted dive on my forehead. "Oh, okay. Because stabbing myself hurts less than when you do it. You're full of ridiculous, you know that?"

He pointed to the floor. "Pick your sword."

With a grumble, I studied each in turn. There were subtle differences, but one could pass for the other. I muttered and reached for the one on my left. Inches from the metal, electricity sparked up my arm, jarring me to a halt. I reached a second time and again, the warning repelled.

My hand glided to hover over the other blade. Warmth flowed into my skin.

"Your weapon calls only to you."

I jumped at his soft words. "I see that." Pushing to my feet, I crossed my arms. "I suppose I owe you an apology."

His head cocked to the side. "Do you know how?"

"I'm sorry I questioned your greatness."

"Someone has been yelling at me for days." He made a show of rubbing his ears, making an ouch face. "Might've even lost some hearing. What did you say?"

"You would have to get a personality now that I've made an ass out of myself, wouldn't you?"

Ursus laughed. "You're a hard woman to please, Joey Benton."

"Yeah, well, I'll let you buy me lunch and we'll call it even."

"No time for that." He flicked his wrist and the swords disappeared.

"But I'm hungry, Ursus. Why must you make me so miserable?" I whined. Why did he make everything a fight? My upper half drooped with the hope a little pouting would go a long way.

"When aren't you hungry?"

"After I've been fed," I said with a pointed look. "I think you'd feel better if I ate something."

Two black mats appeared on the floor, running parallel and a foot apart. "Sit."

"Is this gonna take long?" My stomach grumbled. I sat on the mat and folded my legs Indian style. "I really am hungry."

"Do what I ask and I'll feed you. Deal?"

And if I didn't, he'd starve me? Forget that. My mouth watered at the prospect of something deep-fried. "I'm in. What's the game?"

"Read me."

I blinked. "Read you? Like a story?"

"My mind, Joey," He said in a tired, cut-the-shit voice.

"I'd rather starve."

"It's your power." He sighed. "You must learn it."

"Nah, already played this game with Devi and nearly lost an eye." I tapped a finger on my temple. "She's not right."

Ready to leave him, and the whole conversation, in the dust, I pushed to my feet. Training with physical weapons was one thing. They were tools I needed to survive. Opening my head to another's innermost secrets? It was an invasion on every level. For them and me.

An invisible force yanked me down. My butt slammed onto the mat. I glared at Ursus. He gave as good as he got, irritation darkening his gaze. "I can't be with you every second of the day. I need to know you can protect yourself without me."

"I'm getting better with the sword. And I can protect myself just fine." I tried to get up. My limbs refused. "Let go."

"No."

"What is this, a Mexican standoff? _Let me up._ "

"Forget it."

"What do you want from me?"

"To learn your gi—"

"Don't you dare say gift. It's not a gift. It's a curse. One I wouldn't wish on the demon that shot me through the guts. Don't you get it? I don't want this power. Wrap it up with a pretty bow and _gift_ it to someone else."

The hold on my limbs disappeared when he shoved his face into mine, forcing me to lean back. "You wouldn't wish it on a demon, but you'd give to a mortal who couldn't control it, who'd lose their mind under the burden? The power belongs to you. When are you going to get it through that thick skull? You are _special._ "

"Do you know the real meaning of special?" I ground through clenched teeth. "It means _separate_. It means _different_. It means _excluded_. I don't want to be special, I want to be normal like every other woman."

"You're barely human."

I jolted as if he'd taken his palm across my cheek. Then the shock gave way to rage, hot and strong, bubbling into a power of its own. I fisted his shirt and jerked him close. Somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind, I realized something dangerous lived beneath the surface. It felt fantastic. Looking into his eyes, I wanted to see alarm, concern or hell—even a little surprise.

Instead, a fury as dark as my own claimed his face. Frustration roared from my lips and I shoved him so hard he flew across the room. He crashed to the floor with a skid and thud, then sprang up to his feet wearing the alarm I'd so desperately wanted.

His shirt had two fist-sized holes in it. Had I ripped the fabric? If I could send a man his size flying with the flick of my wrists, then I couldn't deny the possibility. I glanced down at my hands half expecting to see Wolverine claws.

"What was that?" I rasped, lifting my head. I'd scared the shit out of myself and he wasn't looking too steady either.

"Your other power."

# 15

His words had hardly reached my ears before I shot to my feet and ran. I expected to reach the end of the room, trapped between the wall at my front and Ursus at my back. Except the space elongated and stretched as if it understood I couldn't stop. I ran until my lungs threatened to jump ship and my legs and stomach cramped, and still, I kept on.

I listened for Ursus' footsteps or the subtle change in the air when he shifted, but all I heard was my own choppy breathing as I ran myself to the ground.

When the cramp in my side outgrew my determination, I stopped, resting my hands on my knees to catch my breath.

"Joey."

Of course he appeared beside me, ready to pounce when I was at my weakest. I couldn't outrun him and there was nowhere to hide. With no breath left to tell him off, I shook my head and waved him away.

He pulled me to him. I tried to twist out of his grasp, but his arms banded around my waist. He rested his cheek on my head and held me immobile.

"I hate you right now," I whispered against his shirt. Or I wanted to. If I didn't realize how much he hadn't wanted to say those words, I'd despise him. He'd said them in frustration and was as unhappy with the facts as I was.

"I know." He ran his hand along my spine and kissed my forehead. "I'm sorry."

I sniffled, somewhat mollified by his apology, and pulled back to meet his gaze. "What's happening to me? I don't know who—" My lip quivered. "Or apparently, what, I am."

He slid his thumb over my chin. "Come with me. I'll show you."

"No thanks. Every time I follow you, things get worse."

"Wouldn't you like to see your mother?"

Of all the things I thought he'd say... I swallowed a bubble of useless words and nodded.

"I can't take you to her, but I can show you."

"Yes."

"Okay." His fingers laced through mine. He pressed his other palm against the wall. "Chamber."

A door appeared.

"You can make the wall into a door?"

"No. It was hidden. So you couldn't run from me."

I turned a black look on him. "Wasn't that sporting of you?"

"I play to win," he said with a shrug.

"Yeah, well, I'd rather not play at all."

Ursus twisted the knob and walked us through the open doorway. The room—what'd he call it? The Chamber?—was filled with midnight blue floating balls. Once past the door, we had nowhere to move.

Ursus flicked his wrist and a narrow aisle parted the center. He started down the hall with me hovering close behind. "Don't touch the orbs."

"What are they?" I pulled my shoulders in, terrified I'd bump one and they'd burst, or electrocute me, or something. It was like being in a fun house full of helium balloons filled with hypodermic needles.

"Lives. Each soul, whether in Heaven, Hell, or on Earth, has an orb." He came to a stop before the wall of balls. "Joey Benton."

The spheres vibrated and spun, retreating to broaden the circle around us. Save for one. It hovered in the air above Ursus. Anticipation clogged my throat as he tapped the shiny globe. Its surface rippled, and then I was staring at myself standing in a room full of midnight blue orbs. I watched my eyes widen as if I were looking into a mirror. I stuck out my tongue. So did the reflection.

"That's creepy." I chuffed. "And kinda cool. You can watch anyone with these, huh?"

"Yep."

"No wonder I can't get away from you," I muttered and turned to inspect another orb. Its surface remained solid and showed nothing but my distorted reflection. Maybe an angel had to activate it? My finger itched to tap the globe as Ursus had—probably because he'd already told me not to. "You're worse than the government."

"There you go flattering me again," he replied dryly, tucking a section of hair behind my ear. "Are you ready?"

If the bubbles bursting in my belly were any indication, no, I wasn't. The chance to see my mom both excited and scared me. I missed her so much, but I was angry too. She'd left me alone and unprepared against the darkest, most evil things that the human race had knowledge of. I felt betrayed, afraid to trust in her memory, and that gave me a sack of guilt to carry too.

What if I couldn't think of her without anger? What if I couldn't hold back the tears already fighting to fall? I pressed my fists against my eyelids and murmured an all go.

"Abigail Benton."

I fastened on my orb as it retreated into the mix. One from the left slipped forward, coming to a mid-hover a foot or so before us.

I almost fled. Between the unknown and my emotions, I dreaded falling apart. Then she came into view. My heart shattered at the sight of long brown hair lifting and curling in the breeze. She knelt on the ground, humming to herself as she dug up the earth with a gardening spade. A smile rested on her lips as she went about her work.

"She's beautiful." Cancer had ravaged her body, stolen the shine from her chestnut hair, and left her with a sallow, jaundiced complexion. This was not the same woman. She was young, healthy, and happy in a way I'd never seen.

"She's whole," he whispered, twining our fingers together. I squeezed his in return because I didn't have the words to express my gratitude for this present.

My hand reached up to touch the ball, paused, then dropped. I sniffed, determined to keep snot from dripping onto my upper lip. "She loved to garden. But we moved around so much she never got the chance until we settled here. Er, Raleigh. Then she got cancer and..."

"She's still in Heaven." The voice rang in my ears with familiarity.

I glanced at Ursus. He hadn't spoken. My gaze sped back to my mom's sphere. A man knelt beside her. His back was turned to us, but something about him pinged my memory. He was tall, broad in the shoulders. His reddish-blond head lowered towards my mom and she met him with a radiant smile. "Good. There's still time."

My fingers clenched in Ursus' hand. Something wasn't right. I felt it in my marrow. Something was coming. Something I needed to stay far away from.

The man ran a hand through my mom's hair, the gesture affectionate. Then he turned, slow and deliberate, and with eyes lighter than a cloudless sky, looked directly at us.

"I know him," I said, mind racing to place his face. Where had I seen him before? I studied his features, the memory just out of reach. And then it came to me in a rush. The coffee shop. Every morning I stopped at the cafe for my coffee. Rain or shine, he sat in the corner booth in the back of the café. "Jesus Christ, it's Clockwork." I froze, expecting a lightning bolt to zap my ass for blasphemy.

Ursus raised a questioning brow. "Clockwork?"

"Yeah," I muttered, cutting back to the sphere. "He's at the coffee shop every morning without fail, like clockwork. Who is he?"

My mom unknowingly answered the question. She sat back on her heels, resting the spade on her thigh. "Caz, what if it's not enough?"

My scalp prickled. Rushing filled my head. I started shaking. "No way."

I spun on Ursus. His bearing told the truth. I pulled my hand from his and slapped it over my mouth. It didn't silence the scream that ripped from the depths of my soul.

Ursus reached for me, but I scuttled away, palms raised in a warding gesture. "Don't touch me."

"His name is Casimir."

"Yeah, I got that," I said with venom.

_Ursus is learning Casimir is your father this very minute. It'll torque his ass to the limit!_

"He's your father. And he's been watching over you."

"That's not possible. He's only been around the last few months," I said, swallowing the whimper that wanted to follow.

"No, you've only seen him the last few months, since your mom died," Ursus said. "He's been with you since birth. Your mother blocked him, and everything else which is divine, from your sight."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I snapped. It wasn't really a call to clarify, but a need to interrupt him so he couldn't tell me more.

He sighed, a deep and heavy exhale. "Your mother is the Blessed child I thought you to be. She's been hiding you from Heaven and Hell from your very first breath."

And I thought learning about my father was bad. This news left me raw. I might as well have latched onto an open circuit and let the current go full volt. My vision swam. "Are you saying my mother was like me?"

"No one is like you, Joey." A resigned smile tugged the corners of his mouth. He reached up as if to brush along my cheek. Instead his hand dropped at his side as if he'd changed his mind.

_When he looks at me like that...as if I'm the only woman his eyes have ever touched, and he doesn't know whether to rush forward or run away._

I couldn't deal with my feelings for him right now.

Combing my bangs back from my forehead, I said, "You've been keeping secrets, huh?" When he looked away, I snagged his chin and pulled him back. "When did you learn this?"

He let me pinch without flinching. Damn him. "Since Devi let me enter the Afterlife."

I tensed. Three days he'd known. And said nothing. "What else? And don't think about keeping it from me. I can see there's more."

"Nothing that has any bearing on who you are."

"No, you don't get to do that." My nails cut into the flesh of my palm. I fought back tears. "We're done with secrets, understand? Tell me everything."

"It will only hurt you."

"I'm willing to take that risk."

"I'm not. You'll hate me for it."

"I'll hate you more if you don't tell me," I promised. As if. I couldn't hate him if I tried. Punch his arrogant, obstinate face down his neck, sure, but never hate.

He took on a stricken appearance, then nodded tersely and pressed his lips into a so-be-it line.

God, he was a stubborn mule.

"Let's start with something easy. How did my mom shield me?"

He remained silent so long I feared he wouldn't answer. "It's her gift, to alter the perceptions of others to the things around them. It's a lesser version of your ability."

"Why didn't she tell me?"

Another half-hearted shrug lifted his upper body. "What would be the point of shielding you?"

"And Casimir?" I refused to call him my father. "He shielded me too?"

He slid his fists into his pockets and hunched his shoulders with a defiant scowl. "That's not his power. He simply gave her the strength to hide you as long as she could."

"As long as she could?" This was it, what he didn't want me to know. I sensed a big, bad ugly around the next corner, and like a pyro to a house fire, I edged closer. "What's that mean?"

"Let it go, Joey. Please."

"Ursus." I drew him in with a hand on his arm. "I've trusted you with my life. Now I'm trusting you to be honest with me."

"Damn it, woman." He grasped my cheeks between both palms and gave me a gentle shake. "You really know how to twist a blade in my gut."

Guilt was not an option. If it took manipulation to get answers, then so be it. I'd play on any and every emotion he had. I had a right, a need, to understand where and what I came from.

"Your mother never had cancer," he said softly.

I stared, unable to process the statement. "Of course she had cancer. I watched it suck the life out of her." Either he'd decided to lie or he was not anywhere near as intelligent as I gave him credit for.

"She had a powerful gift, but it took so much from her to hold the illusion. She made those around you—mortal, angel, demon—see you as nothing more than a human girl. When it started to wane, she'd pack you up and move to a new location because it took less from her to weave a new illusion than to maintain the same one."

The final piece of the puzzle slid into place. "She was protecting me. Every dingy apartment, every new school was for _me_." I sucked in a hitching breath. And when we'd moved to Raleigh, I'd threatened to run away if she packed another box. She was horrified, gave in on the spot.

The scene from that sunny afternoon replayed in my mind. After she agreed to stay, she'd collapsed into a kitchen chair, clasped her head in her hands and stared at the table in a glassy-eyed daze. I'd run off to spend the rest of my day in the sun, triumphant in the knowledge I'd never pack another suitcase unless I chose.

I raised my eyes to Ursus. "I killed my mom."

# 16

I hoped for, even expected, a denial. He paid it lip service with an, "Of course not," but the truth rang clear.

My gaze flickered to the floating ball. "I forced her to stay, threatening to run off on my own..." Darkness slid over me, smooth and suffocating as oil, coiling around my soul. A bitter taste filled my mouth. I'd pushed him, too stubborn to realize I couldn't handle the truth. He'd known and had tried to protect me from my stupid self. I wished I'd let him.

I pressed my fingertips against my eyelids until stars popped up. Oxygen hitched in and out of my lungs and yet, I couldn't breathe. Everything I'd believed about my life and the mother I adored was bullshit. Where did that leave me?

Alone and broken.

I didn't realize my legs had buckled until I was on my hands and knees, screaming myself hoarse. I cried, long and hard. A mix of tears and snot slid from my upper lip onto my knuckles.

Ursus placed a hand at the small of my back. I swatted him off. "Go away."

He scooped me into his arms and whispered in his funky language. I went lax in his arms, neither fighting nor helping him carry me. "Leave me alone, Ursus."

"I'm taking you to bed."

In another time a statement like that would perk up my flirt and I'd shoot off a saucy retort. I turned my face into the hollow at his throat and let him do as he pleased. He could take me out to a dumpster, toss me in, and shut the lid, and I wouldn't argue.

He stumbled with a pained grunt. I drew back to look at him. "What's wrong?"

His response was a terse shake of his head, followed by a grimace. He bared his teeth and let out a low hiss. I squirmed until he had no choice but to put me down or drop me altogether. He doubled over, clutching his stomach.

My hands fluttered around him, afraid to touch and make things worse. I bent in half and flipped my face upside down to see his. "What's wrong? What's happening here?"

"I am being summoned." He explained on a groan.

"Oh. Okay. What are you supposed to do?"

"Answer," he bit out.

"So answer for crap's sake," I shouted, throwing my arms out to the side. "You like pain or something?"

"Against the rules to bring a mortal into the Chamber." Muscles quivered beneath his flesh as he fought against whatever was happening. He swallowed with effort. "Head to your room. I won't let anything happen to you." He wrenched upright, let out a roar and vanished.

"Holy shitballs." I gaped at the empty space.

The door creaked and my neck snapped faster than a shot rubber band. A mountain of blue stood between me and whoever. "Devi, is that you?"

_Please be Devi._

She was a tad scary and a whole lot crazy, but better her than someone I didn't know. Especially after that alarming display.

Footsteps sounded. Much too heavy for Devi unless she took to wearing combat boots—which I could totally see. The orbs parted and a giant—as I suspected everyone here to be—with reddish brown hair and a liberal spattering of freckles blocked the aisle. Spooky blue eyes stared out of his handsome face with a quiet confidence. He wore a navy button-down shirt tucked into a pair of khakis. Glancing at his feet, I saw his shoes matched the length of my thighbone. Explained the stomping.

"Miss Benton." His voice hummed like the low rumble of a performance engine.

I debated a course of action. Since I had nowhere to run, I went with cordial. "Call me Joey," I said, extending my hand. "They sure don't make any of you ugly, do they?"

The man turned a lovely shade of rose and despite my misery, I wanted to shrink him to size, put him in my pocket and take him home to set on my mantle.

"Joey, it is." He frowned at my offered hand, then lifted raised brows to me. I let my arm drop, self-conscious. Apparently, angels didn't shake.

"I am Benaiah."

My lips formed an O. Was that even English? "I'm sorry, what is it?" What was with the weird names?

"Benaiah."

I watched his mouth as he spoke. After a moment, I said, "Mind if I call you Benny?"

"Ah." Color crept into his cheeks again. "Not at all."

_Oh yes, he's my new cherished pet._

"Nice to meet you, Benny." Recalling Ursus' parting promise to keep me safe, I wondered if Benny was looking to do harm and added, "Are you looking for Ursus?"

"I've come for you."

"Okay." I crossed my arms and put another step of distance between us. "Why?" I asked nicely—it just didn't come out that way.

I tried to hide my nerves, breathing slow and holding his gaze. That he blocked the only exit didn't escape my notice. If he charged I was screwed.

He frowned. It did nothing to allay my anxiety. I'd swear my heart stopped beating even as it pounded away in my chest. How much could one person take? Unless destiny planned for me to lose my mind, I was at my limit. "What? For the love of stilettos, why are you looking at me like that?"

His mouth opened, then snapped shut. In a strained voice, he said, "I'm here under the orders of Michael, Prince of Angels and Commander of the Holy Host."

"Michael. _The_ Michael?"

"Yes."

The most powerful angel according to scripture knew my name. A fact that both excited and alarmed me. I could almost get giddy if my knees weren't clanking together.

"All right. I didn't see that one coming," I said. "You don't look too pleased with those orders." Whatever they were.

"I don't have to agree with orders to carry them out."

Uh. Balls. He clearly wasn't happy to do whatever he'd come to do. Was it me? Or what he had to tell me?

My body vibrated with excess energy, prodding me to slap my hands over my ears and run for the hills. Anything to avoid Benny's bomb du jour—if he couldn't speak it, then I couldn't hear it. It made perfect sense to me and every other five year old who employed this logic.

"Is it Ursus?" My skin tightened. Something had pulled him against his will from the Chamber, and it hadn't been gentle. Dread settled against my spine. Surely, they wouldn't punish him for showing me the truth. Would they?

"What'd you do to my angel?" I took a step towards him and surprise lifted his brows.

He held up his palms. "Ursus is in no danger from me. Or anyone else for that matter. This is not about him."

"Good. Leave him be."

His head reared back as if he couldn't believe my audacity. I couldn't believe it either. I rubbed a hand over my forehead and said, "You look like you'd rather face the guillotine. What do you have to tell me that I don't want to hear?"

I cringed at the harsh words but I was wearing fear as a necktie these days. If he didn't give the details pronto, I'd have a damn seizure.

"Very well. The Incubus has taken possession of your friend, Ms. Blackfox."

Shula? My eyelids fluttered several times as I tried to comprehend what he'd said. Though I recognized the words, it was as if he'd spoken in a foreign tongue. Only the gist of it came at me with a punch. I felt the blood drain from my face.

Pivoting to the orbs at my back, I said, "Shula Blackfox." To my surprise, one ball floated towards me. I peered at the shiny surface until it dissolved into a scene of Shula at the studio. She sat on the couch, her tension clear in her stiff posture. To her right sat the demon.

"That son of a bitch, dirty, no good, evil hard-on!" The orbs vibrated along with my outrage. And my guilt—couldn't forget that albatross.

Benaiah made a choking sound. It never crossed my mind Chamos might train his crosshairs on Shula. I'd been wrapped up fighting and flirting, albeit without success, with a stubborn, oblivious brick wall. I'd followed in my mother's footsteps and left someone I love at the mercy of a demon.

If I'd warned her, she might've avoided the bastard. Fear for Shula made it hard to think straight. I scrubbed my hands over my cheeks, frustrated and on the verge of a biblical hissy fit.

"And by taken, you mean kidnap. Right? He hasn't...hurt her?" Please, God, don't let her die because of me.

"I do not believe so. His intent isn't to harm her, but to have you."

"Why?" I demanded, "why am I suddenly the hottest chick in town? I'm a photographer, not Mata Hari!"

Gaze sympathetic, he waited while I cursed a blue streak, then said, "Chamos is a slave. It is Satan who means to take you."

My tongue tried to jump down my throat. I shot him a wild-eyed-mad-woman look followed by a hysterical giggle. "Satan. What am I supposed to do with that?"

Shit, I couldn't save myself, how might I save her?

"I cannot direct you in this decision," he said, running a hand along his jaw.

"Perhaps I need a little direction, Benny." I wanted to scratch his eyes out and spit in his sockets. He'd done nothing to deserve my anger, but who cared?

"Is your friend worth your life?" He asked. "An attempt to save her does not ensure success. It only guarantees Chamos the opportunity to have you." He placed a large hand on my shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "Would you let her die at the hands of the demon? When you might be her salvation?"

Either rush headlong into death or die of misery and guilt. Awesome choice.

I twirled my hand. "Okay. Get me my angel. Please," I thought to add at the last minute."

"Again, I am sorry, but Ursus is not to accompany you."

"He won't go with me?"

"Michael summoned him. He will be unable to leave until released." Benaiah shut his eyes with a sigh. "This is for you alone."

My chin quivered. I brushed his touch away. I couldn't face Chamos without Ursus; he was my backbone, my protection against myself. I'd crumble under the demon's seduction without Ursus to deflect the lust.

"Is this a test? A sink or swim, pass or fail sort of thing?"

More lip pursing from the ginger angel.

"Of course," I whispered and, staring dead ahead, I nudged past him to the door, careful not to bump any orbs on the way. My hand stilled on the knob. "Can I shift out of here?"

Never in my worst nightmares would I have dreamt I'd ask to shift.

"Only angels may come and go unchecked. Better to use the Threshold."

"Half-breeds don't count, huh?" He didn't take the sarcastic bait. Just as well as it was rhetorical. Besides, I wasn't even a half-breed, more like a three-fourths breed.

"Shouldn't you warn me how stupid this is? Stop me from making a grave mistake or something? Give me a little guidance here." If Heaven valued my life enough to protect and train me, why let me walk into a trap?

"If I could stop you, I would."

I lifted my brows. "That's it? That's all you've got?" Because that didn't sound ominous or anything. I waved him off. What else was there? God speed? Good luck? Be careful? Ack.

"Is Abisai going to give me trouble, leaving without Ursus?" I ignored the weight of guilt at the thought of abandoning Ursus. He'd blame himself, no matter that Michael kept him from helping me.

"I would expect it."

"Yeah, he sucks," I grumbled.

He frowned as if he didn't know what I meant. Maybe he didn't. Ursus liked Abisai. Perhaps Benny did too. Maybe I was the only one who clashed with the titan.

"Listen, Ursus is going to be... grumpy when he returns to find me gone. I'd like to say I'll return in time for the scheduled berating but..." I took a deep breath and shrugged. "Tell him thank you. He'll know what for. And—" I licked my lips. "—tell him I'm sorry."

My fingers closed over the knob again. I so didn't want to do this. I was far from strong enough and nowhere near ready.

I opened the door and said, "Threshold."

I stepped into the golden hall. To my right lay the gates of pearl, to my left the passage leading to Earth.

I ran to the door, pulled it open, and stepped through, calling, "Earth."

As the mist swirled, I realized I should've been more specific. I wanted to exit in the same place I'd entered, but for all the door knew, I wanted a one way trip to Chechnya.

Blackness folded around me until nothing existed except the inky silence. No sight. No sound. No touch. And yet the charcoal mist brimmed with energy, with life.

As quickly as it surrounded, it faded and I emerged beside a startled Abisai. A frown deep enough to fold his face in half creased his forehead. I cut off his question with a wave.

"Nice seeing you again."

"Stop." The command rumbled through my bones and I froze. Couldn't even lower my hand.

He filled my line of vision, crossed his arms, and wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something unpleasant.

"You're one of those, huh? Figures. You'll have to show me sometime."

"Where is Ursus?"

"With Michael."

"And you are?" he quirked a brow as big and heavy as a tree branch.

"With you?" See how open and honest I was? He couldn't fault my logic. He tightened a fist and his biceps flexed. I gulped.

"You aren't to leave without your Grigori. Where are you going?"

"Umm, I left the oven on. And my house unlocked."

If I weren't a live statue, I'd have slapped myself. Plan A was a reeking pile of failure. Should've worked on plan B. And my bullshit skills.

"I'll talk," I said. "But you have to release me first."

"No."

I clamped my lips together. Insulting him wouldn't help. And the longer I dallied with him, the longer the perverted sack of erections had Shula.

I forced a smile. "What are you afraid of? I'd have to stand on two ladders just to lick your kneecaps."

His lips peeled back from white teeth.

Apparently, I'd insulted his mother. Or something.

"Seriously. I can't best you. You can re-freeze me in a heartbeat if I get outta line," I offered, attempting to maintain a sincere expression.

His eyes narrowed and I swallowed every snarky comment in my repertoire.

Finally, he shrugged and my previous momentum returned. Nothing so fun as slamming on my hands and knees before a hulk with a chip on his shoulder.

"Good to know that chivalry isn't dead," I mumbled and sat back on my haunches.

"Get up," he hissed, cinching my arm and jerking me to my feet.

I twisted free with a, "Hey," and made a fuss of dusting myself off. I might've thrown in a few unflattering things about Abisai's origin as well.

His irritation seemed to double with each passing second. I watched him shift from foot to foot with growing agitation while I huffed and chuffed over his abuse. Just when his patience threatened to break, I landed a roundhouse to his solar plexus. The air left his mouth with a whoosh. His eyes bulged. But the blow failed to knock him back as I'd hoped.

Before he rebounded, I smashed my fist on his thigh. Bone-crushing pain shot through my arm. Murderous intent filled his eyes and he lunged.

I skittered out his reach and crowed, "Some guard you are." Then shifted my ass outta there.

# 17

I landed in the bathroom. Though "landed" implied skill or grace, and I'd more ricocheted off the sink to avoid a foot in the toilet bowl.

_Subtle. He'll never hear me coming._

Why did shifting feel as if I'd been given a lightening enema? My bones reverberated under my skin and the pounding above my brow pushed my eyes against their sockets with every heartbeat until I thought they would pull a jack-in-the-box.

On the plus side? It didn't hurt as much as when Ursus shifted me. So he'd been right. Again. Damn it.

I pressed my ear against the door. Other than the clock ticking on the wall in the hall, the place boasted the silence of a tomb. I didn't trust the quiet, but hiding in the john wouldn't help Shula.

Twisting the knob, I eased open the door, cringing at the squeak of its hinges. I didn't make it into the hall before heat rushed me. My nipples pebbled. I canted against the doorjamb with a gasp. If Shula's life didn't depend on my minimal skills, I'd have run straight back to the safety of my angel. But she was counting on me and I refused to let her down.

A shuttered glance down the empty hall revealed nothing sinister. You know, like a demon made of erotic fantasies so hot just looking at him gets you off. Son of a bitch. I couldn't even see the bastard and I still wanted to pole dance his face.

I pushed forward with renewed determination to introduce him to my dagger up close and personal like, but the nearer I drew to the lobby, the stronger my urge to rush into his arms. My jaw ached with the effort to deny it.

"Hello, Joey. It's nice to see you again," he said. "Or it will be as soon as you round the corner."

I clamped my lips together to suppress a moan at his sultry voice. Another wave of lust crashed over me and I stumbled into the lobby on wobbly legs, reaching for the back of a chair to steady myself. My mind screamed to get out even as my body insisted I stay and play concubine into the wee hours of forever.

"Stop. Please stop," I said, sacrificing my pride.

The lust disappeared before I'd finished speaking. "Come to me."

Even without the glamour or whatever his power was, the rumble of his voice ensnared me, tempting me to obey. It wasn't a question of _if_ , only when.

I licked my lips and straightened with effort, then wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, disgusted I'd licked them in the first place. A glance over the room revealed Shula and five demons. Not bad if looking to get annihilated. Otherwise, not so hot.

Shula sat stiffly on the far end of the couch, regarding me with almost restrained terror. Chamos had her tucked beside him, his arm draped over her shoulders.

"You okay?" I asked.

She nodded, then glanced at Chamos out of the corner of her eye. His head rested against the back cushions as he propped his feet on the coffee table and smiled.

I dropped the connection before my panties took to sizzling and eyed in the rest of his entourage. They could make a gargoyle faint. Two squat demons stood to my right, their barrel-shaped bodies glistening like worms after a rain. Beady black eyes tracked my every movement.

But it was the third demon that sent my pulse into overdrive. The hulk towered over the room and I put him at about ten feet tall and half as wide. His thick shoulders sported bat-like wings that spanned the width of my couch, for nut's sake. That he was blacker than a specter dipped in ink inside a coal mine with a matching gaze full of malice added to the _oh shit_ factor.

"Impressive, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he takes first prize at the beauty pageant." One of these days I'd learn to cover my nerves with something less deadly than insults. Thankfully, batman didn't appear to take offense, but then, with a face like that, how could he?

Chamos chuckled. "The Daeva. Very few Thrones fell from Grace. In fact, I know of none other than Bacur here."

Super. Whatever a Throne was, he was now the antithesis of all that was goodness and light.

But the Daeva wasn't my biggest concern.

The true threat had his arms wrapped around my best friend.

Chamos dragged his interest down my front and his tongue swept slowly over his bottom lip. I braced for another lust-filled attack, but he didn't need to sexually charge every atom in my body. He had me and he knew it. I was out numbered, out sized, and out uglied. No competition.

"Joey."

The silky way he said my name set my panties on fire. He possessed a sensual _je ne sais quoi_ that made him hotter than a roasted soul in Hell's oven. The others, win or lose, I could fight. When it came to Chamos, the evil soul-sucking prick, I was at war with myself. He didn't have to lift a finger to defeat me. I'd do it for him.

_What? My panties? You want to wear them as a hat, you say? Well, step right up!_

The downfall lay in my reaction to him. When he offered up hot and sweaty monkey love? I couldn't not _want_ him. I could only not _do_ him.

It was a great plan—like bungee jumping with dental floss.

No mortal has ever resisted an Incubus, according to Ursus. Or maybe someone did but didn't live to tell the tale. Give in, you're toast. Resist, you're toast. Suffice it to say if an Incubus takes notice of you, better butter your ass 'cause its toast. Not much encouragement in that.

But being part angel gave me some defense against him. Right? Unlike the average, unsuspecting, horny mortal, I knew what he was and what he wanted. Unfortunately, my inner slut begged me to give it to him.

And the inner angel Ursus wanted me to pull out of my ass was apparently on vacation. He stressed, over and over to the point of making me want to hurt him, if I'd just accept my power, I'd get a double dose of speed, strength, and agility. So if someone wanted to pass me the owner's manual, I'd be happy to embrace the hell out of myself.

"He throw his mojo at you?" I asked.

Shula shrugged. "A little, but—"

Chamos placed a hand on her temple and she went limp, head lolling onto his chest.

"You asshat!" I lunged for him. "What did you—"

He held a finger in the air, then stretched her out on the couch. "She sleeps. I merely removed a distraction."

"You forgot a few." I hitched a thumb at his fashion club.

"A necessity," he said. "When you agree to accompany me, she will awaken."

"And if I don't?"

His smile slipped right into place. "She will not wake at all."

My heart thudded behind my breast. Either watch Shula sleep to death or give myself to the Incubus. Neither appealed to my sense of well-being. I surveyed each demon in turn, knowing my chances of making it through all five were just below nil. However, if I killed Chamos, Shula would wake. Right?

_What if I can't?_

How to separate Chamos from Shula's side? She wasn't exactly jump and run ready. Tossing her over my shoulder and hauling ass seemed like a good plan...if she were six. She had a full foot on me and the girl was no waif.

The Incubus had to come to me, preferably away from the rest of the pack. All I needed was the element of surprise and _tada_. Or I took the demon at his word that he'd release her if I did as he asked.

"Okay," I said, spreading my hands in an open gesture. "Come collect. Send your goon squad on break and we've got a deal."

He paused, narrowed eyes searching my face. I raised my brows as if I had nothing to hide.

_Just a big sword I'm dying to shove up your ass_.

His lips spread into a cunning smile. "Sending them away betters your chances, doesn't it? You think killing me will awaken her."

"Never crossed my mind. But since you brought it up, would it?"

"I don't know." He slid his hands into his pockets. "I've never died before. But," he continued as he sauntered towards me, "You've already lost your mother. Can you spare another friend?"

"Fu—"

"No, of course you can't. So why push it and lose anyway?" He brushed his lips along my temple. "I would be your friend. Your lover."

His breath caressed my neck. My brain went on hiatus, leaving my body in charge. It wasn't that great at thinking. It didn't want to fight. It wanted to relinquish control, to hell with responsibility. It wanted freedom and pleasure, in high doses.

I curled my fingers into his shirt and tugged him closer, letting my head fall back in invitation to kiss my neck. Hell, he could gnaw on it for all I cared as long as those full lips touched my skin.

In that instant I'd have done anything he wanted. The realization shot a dose of terror through my system and I shoved him back. "Stay away." The command I intended came out as a breathless plea.

Amusement passed over his face. He reached for me.

I ducked under his arm and scooted along the chair's edge. "I mean it. I've had all I can stand." Even with distance between us, his presence intoxicated, stripping me of inhibitions—specifically, the ones I needed to keep my legs crossed.

"Don't fight, Joey. There's no shame in submitting to your desires."

"Oh no, just death and damnation. Plenty to pride myself on."

I'd bitten off more than I could slay. I'd trained for a battle, not will power. And even if I managed not to give in, what about Shula? I couldn't wake her.

My backup—the angel I'd left in Heaven—had no clue I'd waltzed out much less where I'd gone. Once he discovered the desertion, he'd probably help the incubus strangle me.

I glared at Chamos for my own impotence. Who didn't love limited options? Still, I wasn't ready to walk into orgasmic death.

I hugged my waist and let out a pitiful, despairing groan; one I hoped would draw Chamos to my side. Most men couldn't help but respond to a hopeless female. Some as salvation, some as predators. I didn't care which Chamos chose as long as it put him next to my blade.

Heat rushed my skin and I knew Chamos had taken the bait. He placed a hand at the small of my back and bent beside me. I clenched my jaw against the impulse to wrap myself around him and sprang up, using the back of my skull as a battering ram on his face.

I clutched my throbbing melon and stumbled against the pain. "Mother fu—"

Chamos' curse sounded over mine, threatening to explode my gray matter a second time. His hands flew to his bloody nose. Violent eyes shone through his splayed fingers.

At least he hurt like a son of a bitch too. Before he had the chance to recover, I punched his hands into his face and shifted.

I reemerged next to the worm-looking demons. The one on my left jumped in surprise. The other grappled for his weapon. Instinct more than forethought or precision drove my dagger through the demon's throat. His eyes bulged—pain? disbelief?—and he clawed at my knife. I twisted the blade deeper. Blood spurted, and droplets landed in my mouth. I spit-gagged and jerked my wrist sideways. The head came free with a horrible slurp-crackle.

"Oh God." I dropped the gory appendage and wiped my palm on my shirt.

I'd forgotten about the second demon until he was almost on me. I swung my sword to the ready and braced for the impact. The stupid imp ran himself onto it.

My brows shot up. "Really?"

The demon managed to twist the blade from my grasp, then grab the hilt and pull it from his gut. I charged him in a rush of adrenaline before he could turn my own weapon against me and drove my dagger into his nape.

The bastard sank his teeth into my collarbone.

I fought to push him off, prying at his fangs with my dagger's tip, but the prick only chuffed around a mouthful of tissue and bit down harder. It shook its head like a rabid dog, trying to rip off a chunk of my hide.

The bite burned as if its saliva was poison. The idea of demon spit mixing with my blood spurred me to rotate the dagger and jab the demon's eyes. It let go with a howl and I sliced my blade across its throat until the head fell.

"I am _not_ cut out for this shit." My arm screaming violent protest, I snatched my sword off the floor as something big and black barreled in from the right. I whirled to find the winged demon charging a hell of a lot faster than I'd have given him credit for.

One giant step separated us.

I put my effort into disappearing, with the thought it'd be hard to concentrate with a homicidal freight train barreling down on me. Turned out to be a big incentive. I materialized next to the couch and reached for Shula. One way or another, I had to get her out before Chamos came to collect a toll for his bloodied face.

The plan was get the girl, find my angel, accept the sure-to-follow berating, and hand her over to Heaven. In that order. Surely, Devi, or someone saner, knew how to fix her.

The problem? No Shula. The couch was empty. I spun to Chamos. He stood in the same spot I'd left him, one arm circling Shula's waist, holding her against him, while the other hand caressed the hollow at her throat.

He gave me a considering look. "This is not the reunion I envisioned, love."

Hells Bells, it wasn't the one I'd envisioned either. In my preferred scenario, all demon-folk lay gutted on the floor. "Guess it's a bad day for us both."

"More so you than me."

Something clamped around my neck and lifted me off my feet. I clawed at the steel grip. It clenched tighter. My legs flailed in an effort to kick free, but I lost accuracy with each missed breath. Color burst behind my eyes and my lungs burned with the need for oxygen.

Blackness filled my consciousness, dulling my thoughts. My heartbeat drummed a slowing cadence. With each muted pulse came another layer of detachment and I realized the next beat could be my last.

"Release her," Chamos said, his voice distant and hollow.

I dropped and cool air went down my esophagus like broken glass.

"Well, that was exciting, wasn't it?" Chamos said.

Rage overruled any caution a smarter girl might possess. I couldn't control my limbs with precision, but it didn't stop me from shifting behind Chamos and raising both blades to his neck.

He turned, showing me his profile. "Joey. You cannot take my life before I take hers."

Everything in me screamed to end him. One slice and it'd be over, I'd be free. Until the next demon came to destroy me. My limbs trembled as I stared at the base of his skull where it met the spine. It was a game of my proximity to his speed. But would it kill Shula too? Sweat moistened my skin.

The black giant edged closer.

"Tell your girlfriend to back off." I flicked the dagger's tip under Chamos' jaw, drawing a thin line of blood.

"As soon as we come to an agreement."

I pressed my lips to his ear and said, "As soon as you roast in Hell, you'll find me in total agreement."

"I merely invite you to accompany me without force. I don't require anything more...intimate to release your friend."

Intimate. What a nice euphemism for _screw you into oblivion_.

"And my own release?"

"How many would you like?"

I sucked in a shocked breath. "That's not what I meant."

He smiled without humor. "It's what you want. I can smell it, practically taste it."

"Shut-up." I didn't bother with denial since my body was already responding like a trained seal. I didn't want to want him, but I was stuck between a demon and a hard place. No pun intended.

"Don't make me hurt her, Joey." He gave me a look so beseeching my mind blanked.

He didn't want to hurt her? So why did he want to ride me to Hell? Literally.

"How do I know you'll release her from whatever you've done?" I demanded.

"I give you my word."

I made a tsking sound against my teeth. "I don't trust your word."

"I don't blame you. Have you another plan?"

_I'm working on it._

I swallowed hard and, rebelling at the decision even as I made it, placed the dagger and sword on the floor, raised my empty palms, and took an exaggerated step back. "Your turn."

As soon as I was clear, he curled Shula's legs over his arm and carried her back to the couch. He placed her on the cushions and situated her as if she were sleeping fricking beauty. He brushed a finger along her cheek.

"Just wake her up," I said, irritated by the longing in his eyes. He stiffened, and turned with a blank expression. I wondered if the gentleness had been there in the first place or if I'd imagined it.

His hands slid into his pockets. "I can make you do nothing against your will."

Considering my brain had one will and my body another, his reassurance failed on a colossal scale. _I_ knew to throw on my Nikes and haul ass _._ My body? She was a wanton jezebel, turning cartwheels of anticipation for the horizontal Cha-cha.

"Forgive me if that doesn't settle my stomach."

He gave me a dazzling smile and pivoted to the black demon. "Bacur, thank you for your assistance."

To my amazement, the enormous demon clasped his hands together and bowed before disappearing.

He offered his hand. "It's time to go."

I stared at the offered appendage. "I don't want to."

"Of course not."

His mouth tightened as if he understood the war waging inside of me. He gave a light shake of his head. Maybe the oxygen deprivation had suffocated too many vital brain cells, but he seemed sympathetic, almost remorseful.

I'd taken too much damage to the thinker.

"Do it," I commanded.

Apparently he needed no other agreement. He brushed fingertips over Shula's brow and her lids fluttered open.

Relief sighed off my lips. I'd feared somehow she'd be caught in that state forever. Shula spotted me and frowned before focusing on Chamos.

"Are they gone?" She asked, looking at him like he was decked out in shining armor. Hellooo. Was I suddenly invisible?

"I killed them," I said, shifting a weapon into each hand. "With my sword." Yes, it was childish, but Chamos was the reason we were both in this mess. Why was she making googly eyes at him?

"So he didn't lie to me. You are an angel," she stated, swinging her legs off the couch as she sat upright.

"Part angel," I correct, squirming under the attention. "Let's not round up."

Her response was a long stare.

"Don't look at me like that." I couldn't stand for her to see an angel rather than me—the same Joey she'd seen a million times.

Chamos encased my wrist with a vise-like grip. With a bow, he said, "Until we meet again, beautiful Shaman," then tugged me to his side as a familiar disintegration overtook my body.

# 18

We emerged in a corridor lit by mounted torches. I circled slowly, taking in the rock and dirt walls partially camouflaged by flickering shadows. Unidentified things crunched beneath my feet. There wasn't enough curiosity in the world to make me examine what they were.

"Where are we?" I yanked out of Chamos' grasp.

Irritation flickered before he smiled and clasped his hands behind him. His self-binding did little to ease my nerves. "Where do you think?"

I inspected the cave-like roof. The darkness was deepest above us and I couldn't make out much on the ceiling. That was probably for the best. "Hell is actually inside Earth?"

"Hell is nowhere near Earth."

More good news. My chances of escape—as if I'd ever had any—shriveled to the size of a pea. Panic pressed on me and it was all I could manage to stare into the shadows and wonder if something stared back.

_Claustrophobia, here I come._

"Well, it's been a splendid tour. Love your home. Can't say I'll return anytime soon, but I'm ready to go now." Though I was as scared as a piggy in the slaughterhouse, it'd be a cold day in his living room before I'd drop to my knees and beg for mercy. Or performed anything else on my knees for that matter.

He took a slow survey of my shape, flushing me with a subtle longing. "That's not on the agenda."

"Cut it out," I demanded, thankful he hadn't gone full force with the lust. "You said I didn't have to...." I flapped my hands. "We had a deal."

"Ah, the deal. Remind me again when we agreed on your leaving?" He chuckled. "You need to work on your negotiation skills, love."

I tried to shift.

No tingle. No pain. No shift.

The walls seemed to close in around me. I went very still, pushed back my alarm and tried again, pouring my concentration into the effort. Nothing. Do not pass go. Do not shift out of Hell.

When I'd traded myself for Shula, it had never crossed my mind to bargain for passage from Hell. I'd assumed I could shift out as easily as anywhere else. Chamos came and went. Why couldn't I?

_I'm not a demon_.

I sucked in a lungful of the sulfur-tinged air and faced him. Chamos brought me in and I couldn't get out unless he helped me. And I couldn't give him what he wanted, so I doubted he'd offer assistance. "We're officially at an impasse."

"We don't have to be," he said, sliding closer and running a finger up my arm.

My mouth dried up at the soft caress. I fought a pleasured moan and stepped out of his reach. "I disagree."

Or at least I wanted to.

"I thought you might." His low words slithered through my belly, knotting the muscles above my thighs. I squeezed my legs together and tried not to squirm.

My cheeks burned with shame even as I broke out in goose pimples. I rubbed my arms to ward off a chill. "Why is it so cold?" I demanded pissily. "Shouldn't I be sweating? Where's all the fire and brimstone?"

"We're not that far in," he admitted, catching me around the waist. "You must understand Hell is about misery and despair. Not temperature. Those who fear fire, burn. Hate the cold? You'll freeze. If water is your torture, you drown. Over and over again." He angled toward me and inhaled. "You smell lovely."

"Goon, back off." I pushed on his forehead.

I hadn't expected a day spa but the average run of the mill Hell would've been nice—demons snapping your bones and roasting your meat over an open flame before snacking on you like chicken wings.

You know, the usual.

"There are few pleasures here," he said, pressing his mouth to my ear. He turned us in a slow circle. "Shall we see about your accommodations?"

"I'm not staying." I slipped out of his reach. "I only played nice to free Shula."

His brows shot up. He grabbed my hand and placed it over his heart. "This is playing nice? I'm intrigued."

I swallowed at the hard flesh beneath my fingertips. The compulsion to caress every muscle on his sculpted body scared the giblets off me. Not just a thought—a _need_. I tugged my mitt from his and wiped it on my jeans. Too bad it didn't wipe away his appeal.

"Come, my lovely." He guided me by the shoulders to a dark slab of marble. "See how very welcome you are here."

The air grew heavier as we approached. It should've sent me screaming in the other direction but the onyx panel beckoned me closer.

Like the gates in Heaven.

I reached out to the smooth surface and it seemed to tremble with anticipation. Figures fought to break free of the stone, only to be pulled under again. They writhed in agony, their mouths open in silent screams. I bent for a better look and a black hand pulled free, straining to reach me.

I whirled away from the door and slammed into Chamos. "What was that?"

"Nothing you need worry over." He slipped me back under his arm. "They cannot harm you."

"But what are they?"

A loud crack cut him off as the marble split down the middle and swung inward.

Being trapped deep underground with a sex demon and no escape was terrifying enough, but all that _and_ the gates to Hell parting for me? It was like being buried alive without a coffin between me and the dirt. Overwhelming. And suffocating. I readied to run. Where, I hadn't a clue, but I wanted to get the lead out something fierce. Chamos' fingers tightened on my biceps. "There is nowhere to go, Joey."

His words registered but meant nothing. He could've spoken something in Swahili for all their effect.

A decadent escape from misery lay before me. Silks and satins adorned the room, shimmering like rubies in golden candlelight. The crimson fabric cast a romantic glow throughout the chamber and led the eye straight to its heart.

A bed draped in a deep, almost blood red, silks sat in the center of the room. A sea of floating candle flames surrounded the bed and cast flickering images over the shiny covers. I inhaled their spicy, sweet scent and dizziness filled my head, leaving me disconnected, weightless.

Unlike the despairing corridor at my back, it boasted luxury, leisure...and seduction. It was such a welcome reprieve from fear I didn't notice the patterns beginning to emerge until figures took shape. I rubbed my eyes and blinked them into focus.

A man. His muscles flexed as he pushed into his lover.

The woman moaned in ecstasy.

I went deaf and blind to all but the erotic play. Heat flushed my body but not from embarrassment. No, there wasn't a chagrinned cell in me. I stared, transfixed by their entwined bodies.

Caressing. Licking. Straining in pleasure.

Appalled yet mesmerized, my greedy eyes raked over his bared flesh, fascinated by the play of muscles with each thrust of his hips. His head turned as he licked a path down the woman's neck. Obsidian eyes fastened on me.

Chamos held my gaze from the bed and pushed into her again.

_Oh God, no._

_Oh. Hell. Yes_!

My heart froze, heavy as a block of ice in my chest. I couldn't turn away or shut my eyes, _compelled_ to watch, to discover something I didn't want to know—something I already knew.

My doppelganger arched into the demon's touch, hungry for every caress. She tangled her hands in his thick hair, pulling him to her parted lips and I felt his tongue taste her mouth as if he sampled my own.

_Join them._

The faint voice hardly registered with my conscious mind, then flittered away as my attention returned to the lovers. I wanted it. I wanted him and what he could give me. And boy, could he give it.

_Yes..._

Chamos, the real Chamos, slid his fingertips up my arm. My gaze fell to his gentle touch before lifting to his face.

His expression was so erotic and carnal that I swayed on my feet. He caught my waist and pulled me against him. His touch dampened my fear and completely silenced my conscience.

I drew his scent in with a deep inhale. He smelled musky, earthy. Like sex. My head spun with the need to rub my body over his until his scent was a part of me.

"Do you like your room?" He murmured at my ear.

His voice slithered through the fog in my brain and I felt myself nod.

"Then come." He released me and moved past the marble doors. Holding out his hand, he said, "Let me share it with you."

My heart sputtered and then raced. Longing prodded me to take the final step that would put me in his arms. I reached out.

Something buried in my soul, honor, integrity, or whatever, shook its fists and wailed. Shaking with need, I tucked my hands at my side. "N-no."

The doppelganger sex show vanished.

Chamos' jaw tightened. He dropped his arm. "As you wish." His lithe movements filled my mouth with water. He clasped my temples gently and smoothed his lips over mine. "I will taste you, Joey. Slide my tongue between your lips and revel in the flavor I can already smell."

A vision of me crawling across the floor wearing only a smile flashed through my mind. My teeth ached from holding in a whimper, but nothing, not even self-contempt, dampened how much I wanted to let him fulfill his promise.

"Step from the Hall of Sorrows and let me ease your pain."

_Hall of Sorrows_.

It was an apt name as I still felt the horror and self-pity fighting to get their hands around my neck. Nevertheless, to leave the hall, I had to enter the bedroom. And even from the doorway, its dark promises seduced. How long could I resist the pull?

"I didn't come here for your hump and dump," I said, trying to force anger over want. It was a valiant effort in a losing battle.

"No?" He traced my clavicle with his thumb and it felt like a hundred mouths kissing my flesh. "I think that's exactly why you came here. Go ahead and hide behind self-sacrifice. I don't mind. Because deep down you want the freedom I offer.

I gave my head a violent shake and sank my teeth into my lower lip until the bite drew blood. I'd hoped the nip would jolt me from the lusty haze, but it heightened the buzz, making me crave his pleasure and pain.

His tongue snaked out and licked a bead off my lip. "You know what I am. You know what I want," he murmured, positioning his body between my legs as he nibbled his way down my throat. "And you want to give it to me."

Oh boy howdy, did I. A couple of times. Then a couple more.

But I wouldn't. For as long as I could, I would refuse him. "No."

The lust slipped a fraction. He raised narrowed eyes to mine. "Must we repeat ourselves?"

My spine stretched tall through force of will. "What's the plan, demon? A little poke and tickle before you eat my face off?" As long as he was distracted by my attitude, he wasn't working his way into my pants. Right?

"Poke and tickle?" He shot off a harsh laugh. "You've got a colorful imagination. I've no wish to harm you, Joey."

"Right. Because screwing a demon wouldn't be harmful."

Another laugh as Chamos walked over to the bed and stretched out on the satin. "It's wonderful in here. Warm. Soft. There's no regret, Joey, no fear. Just pleasure."

I expected the sensual double vision to reappear as he glided his hand across the silky cover. I felt the caress on my skin.

"I'll admire it from here, thanks." Fearing his touch didn't stop me from wanting it, and putting space between us kept me strong. It was my only hope.

He regarded me for a moment and then pushed off the bed with a putout sigh. "So be it."

My heart, already pounding, tripped into overdrive. Out of fear or excitement, I didn't know. My mind and body were at war, each pulling in different directions, and I couldn't get a handle on either. It was as if someone had ripped my psyche in two, leaving me with a good Joey and a bad Joey. I was rooting for the good gal, but the odds were not in her favor.

If I didn't get the hell out of, well, Hell, soon, I'd break. Spending time with him anywhere spelled doom but spending time with him near a bed spelled S-E-X.

The idea of returning to the Hall of Sorrows made me break out in a sweat. However, since the other direction was far worse, I steeled myself for its despair, turned back the way I'd come, and ran face first into solid marble.

I blinked at the sealed doors. I could feel him watching me.

_Oh, this is so not good_.

"Hey!" I pounded my fist on the black slab. "Open this door!"

_Fail! Fail! Fail! Doom! Doom! Doom!_

Suddenly he was there, reaching for me. I slapped at him. "Don't touch me."

"You and I have business to conduct."

"You come one step closer," I said, kicking at him, "and I'll wrap your pecker around your neck like a bowtie."

He sure didn't like that promise. A low warning rumbled from his chest.

"You let me out or you'll have the worst fight of your demonic life. I don't want to be here."

"No one wants to be here!" Menace flashed in his eyes. His hand shot out and caught a fistful of my hair. He jerked my head back, bending me backward over his arm.

I rammed my fist into his side. He absorbed the hit with a grunt and bowed me further, pushing his face into mine. "It doesn't matter why you came, only that the choice was yours."

"I had no choice." I pushed at him.

His hand tightened and I winced. "You did. And you chose your friend over yourself. How noble," he mocked. "Now you are in Hell, with me, of your own free will."

He ran his tongue from the hollow of my throat up to my chin but there was no allure in it. He wanted me to know he could make it pleasure or pain—the choice was mine.

Because I'd already made my choice. Not out of want, but out of necessity. Would the decision still condemn me? By saving Shula from death, had I exchanged it for my own?

"Chamos, please, you don't need to do this."

Chamos released my hair to cup my cheek, forcing me to meet his burning gaze. "Don't cry. And don't fight. It's a waste of energy better spent. Let me make this easier for you."

The breath sped from my lungs as the sensation of a thousand hands swept up my body, kneading and stroking my heated flesh. A new wave of lust drowned out everything—my fear, my guilt, my anger. Everything but my need.

"Hand me your will, Joey. I'll take your pain and give you bliss," he whispered.

I fisted his hair with the intent to break his neck. And dragged his mouth to mine. Each cell of my being vibrated in unison when his tongue slid past my lips.

My spine arched and pressed my aching nipples to his chest. He shoved his leg between my thighs and an orgasm crashed over me. I screamed as the ecstasy climbed higher, magnifying to the brink of pain.

Then it stopped, and I was nothing more than a panting mess of twitching muscles waiting to liquefy.

"I can give you so much better than that," he promised.

_Not possible_.

Shame swept aside the aftershocks.

If I got out of here alive, I'd never face Ursus without remembering this. He'd look at me and see a disgrace. And Shula. How the hell did I tell her I'd come all over her kidnapper?

My stomach heaved. I yanked my hands free of his hair as if he'd been dipped in gasoline and set on fire. Then I punched him. "You bastard."

Fury lit his eyes. I braced myself, even hoped for an attack. I needed a fight more than I needed to walk out of this miserable place.

Instead, he rubbed a hand across his jaw and studied me with a cool expression. "Accept your fate, Joey. This isn't a choice. For either of us."

"I'll kill you for that. I swear I will."

"Maybe." His shoulders lifted. "But not before I get what I want."

"You already got what you want." And I'd damned myself in giving it to him. Anything he added was merely icing on my condemned cake. Tears threatened and I ground my teeth to keep them at bay.

"What, you think giving you the best orgasm of your life is what I'm after?" He laughed, the sound cruel and mocking. "I'd like your pleasure but it isn't the goal and either way, we will finish this."

He seized my hand and placed it on his dick. I swallowed hard at the size of his erection, fearful and excited at the same time. I jerked my hand back. In a flash, he cupped my butt and lifted, more or less forcing me to straddle his waist. I struggled, pushing on his chest and trying to gain my feet. Bliss ignited along my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut and ground my teeth against the pleasure. Rather than lessen, it continued to build. I was as turned on as I was pissed off.

My fingernails dug into his shoulders as I neared another climax.

I hated him. I hated myself more. I vowed to follow through on my promise to kill him, knowing I had an eternity with the demon to carry out the sentence.

My hand left a stinging red print on his cheek. He laughed, binding my wrists in one hand and pinning them above my head.

Helpless rage fueled me. I dug my heels into the back of his thighs and used them to propel backwards. When that didn't loosen his hold, I swung my face forward. He saw it coming and dodged what would've been a vicious blow for both of us.

"Are you finished?"

_Oh hell no I'm not!_

"I'm just getting started, you—"

Light exploded behind my eyes. I blinked in rapid succession as images flickered behind my lids, picking up speed with each flip, until I couldn't tell one from the next.

Men. Women. Naked. Need. Lust. Love.

The whirlwind slowed, focusing on a specific scene.

_I lift my hand to rub my throbbing melon. It's much too large to be mine. Befuddled, I stare at the enormous fist. What the hell?_

_Glancing over the scenery, I realize I'm seeing the world through Chamos' eyes._

_I launch off the ground with more speed than grace and spin in a circle. Something rustles to my left. I whirl, heart pounding in my chest._

_And come face to face with a woman. Shocked, I rear back._

_"Chamos." Her lips spread into an adoring smile. She cups my cheek—his cheek—in her delicate hand. "I've missed you, angel."_

_Joy surges through me._

_A strand of chestnut hair slips from its binding and flutters against her jaw. She brushes it aside, a blush creeping into her cheeks. Midnight blue eyes laugh at me from under thick lashes._

_She wears my favorite dress—his favorite dress—the blue one with the ruffled collar. The lace highlights her slender neck, reminding me—him—of the taste of her soft skin._

_I soak up everything about this mortal. I love her._

I slammed back into my own head for a brief moment before a second white-hot blast carries me to another vision.

_I'm still riding shotgun in Chamos' head as we run through a village, frantic. I must find her. I smell smoke, taste its bitterness on my tongue. Fear seizes control of my limbs and I stumble over a body._

_It's not her. I run on._

_"Caroline!" His voice sounds in my head as we call her name._

_An overturned wagon blocks my path. I dart around the side, praying to God she's been spared. A strip of blue catches my eye. I freeze. So does my heart. Chestnut curls hide her face._

_She doesn't move._

_"Caroline," I plead. Let her be unconscious, Father, I beg you._

_I slip my hands under her shoulders and turn her. She stares through the blood with sightless eyes._

_My vision blurs. Something tickles my cheek. I wipe it with the back of my hand and stare at the wetness._

_Tears. I've never cried before. I've never known anguish. Until now._

_I cry out to curse the Heavens. And the Hell to which I will soon belong._

Blackness crept into the vision, making me fear I'd been blinded, my eyes somehow scorched from my head. I wasn't so lucky.

Another picture came into focus.

I stood in a cramped cavern, so narrow I had to stoop or spear myself on the jagged rocks above. I glanced down at my body and realized I wasn't riding shotgun anymore.

Sweat dripped from my brow into my eyes. I wiped at them but the salty wetness burned.

_What nightmare am I in now?_

A shuffling in the corner had me whirling with raised fists.

Shadows hid most of the figure.

"Hello?" I whispered. Then thought better of it. Did I want to draw attention to myself? For all I knew, the hunched form belonged to a sleeping Velociraptor.

Metal clanked, followed by the scuffing sound of something—chains?—heavy dragging through dirt reached my ears. The ground shook beneath my feet.

I braced my hands against the sides of the cave. I couldn't see well enough to search out a safe spot to hide. Something was coming and I didn't want to be the first thing it saw.

A line of fire shot from a fissure in the floor only a few feet in front of me. I lurched in the other direction. The good thing about the blaze was that it lit up the low cavern. The figure I'd spied in the corner turned out to be a man. He scuttled as far from the flames as he could, but barbed chains around his ankles kept him from escaping.

The fire seemed to roar at his retreat and shoot higher, burning hotter. The man raised a challenging glare to the blaze.

_Chamos_.

The flames crackled, almost taunting, as they flickered closer.

Once they reached him, his screams froze my blood.

I covered my ears but heard every lament, down to his last plea. I squeezed my eyes shut, though nothing could erase what I'd already witnessed. The smell of burning flesh seared itself into my nostrils.

He cried out for mercy until all that remained was a charred husk.

Satisfied, the fire vanished.

I retched in the dirt. I didn't know what Chamos had done to earn the torture—and I had no doubt he had—but having been forced to witness it pissed me off.

_Since when do I care about a demon?_

Since I'd walked his memories. Since I saw his love for a mortal woman. Since I witnessed him burn, pinned to the ground, until nothing remained.

I still didn't like him. I just disliked him a little less.

The chains rattled and my gaze darted to the corner.

The bones twitched. Skin regenerated, reforming a whole man over the skeleton.

The ground rumbled.

"Oh dear God." I said as flames erupted.

This time, I screamed with him.

"Damn crazy woman!" Chamos scowled a scant few inches from my face and I jerked away, bonking my skull against the rock.

"What's wrong with you?" he demanded.

I wished I knew. I rubbernecked the room. Back in the bedchamber with Chamos? I didn't know whether to clap or curse.

"Chamos," I said, resting the back of my head against the jagged wall and gazing at him from under hooded lids. I gave myself a few moments to get oriented. "Who's Caroline?"

He jolted as if I'd slapped him, and then his lips peeled back from teeth that had gone from flat to fanged in a blink. "Where did you hear that name?" His voice crackled like the fire I'd watched consume him.

"From you. You loved her." My heart broke at the anguish I'd felt in him. I hadn't just ridden his memories. I'd _lived_ them. His pupils constricted down to pinpricks. He grabbed a hold of the fleshy part of my arm and squeezed so hard I feared he'd break the bone. I whimpered and pried at his fingers.

"Do not ever speak of her," he warned. He gave me a brutal shake and when that didn't kill me, he slammed me against the wall. The impact stunned my lungs, making me fear I'd suffocate before they kicked in again.

"Chamos."

The delicate voice boomed off the cavern walls. If not for his startled expression, I'd have thought it a figment of my oxygen-deprived imagination. Dear God, was the woman, Caroline, in Hell with us?

Alarm registered in his eyes only a moment before being overrun by hatred. He leveled me with a bleak look and then blanked his expression. He pivoted on his heel, bowed low, and said, "My Lord."

# 19

_My Lord_?

I scanned the chamber, my gaze sliding past her before my brain registered her shape among the shadows.

Hair the color of molten lava framed a face only a porcelain doll could rival. Her skin glowed, perfect beneath the Grecian-style dress, radiating both sensuality and innocence. She was petite, vibrant, and lovely as the sunrise.

Looking upon her stole my breath.

"Have you damaged her?" Her voice curled through the air, as light and deadly as a wisp of smoke.

Chamos stiffened. "No," he said, and then added, "Master."

"Leave us."

He hesitated, then nodded, straightened, and walked stiffly from the room, indiscernible gaze locking on mine as he passed. I took it to mean _you're in deep shit now_.

Saliva pooled on the back of my tongue. Stupid as it was, I felt safer with Chamos in the room. He'd seduced me against my will—maybe against his own—but my gut insisted the real threat stood shadowed in the silk curtains.

She inspected me with cold detachment. "Hello, Electus."

"Hey."

"You're not as I expected." Amusement flickered over her features. "Do you know who I am?"

"I have a suspicion."

_Damn you, Ursus_. You must _train_ , he'd said. You must _prepare_ , he'd said. The most alarming revelation had just dropped in my lap like a two-ton gorilla. I couldn't have been more blown away if I'd sat on a hand grenade.

My angel couldn't have warned me Beelzebub was a stacked redhead? Seriously? WTF.

The Devil should have horns, a forked tail, and sunburn from...well, you know. _That_ is the Satan I wanted to see. Or not see.

"Yes, I see you're disillusioned. I can't very well let them see me coming, can I?" Her shoulders lifted in a casual gesture. "Knowledge is power. And I have no interest in sharing mine."

"No shit?" I tossed out before thinking better of it.

She stilled. Her mouth pinched. "A crude vocabulary belittles the speaker."

Once my nerves kicked in, there was no telling what would come out of my mouth. As far as defense mechanisms went, it sucked, and left me with no idea how to respond to the devil chastising me for profanity. Even weirder, I had an absurd urge to apologize.

"Sorry. Can't say this is a situation I was prepared for."

She drifted to me as if on a floating cloud, her gait as smooth as the silk she wore.

The less space between us, the more violent my reaction. Electricity sparked in my marrow, using my bones as a conduit to vibrate the surrounding tissue. I gritted my teeth against the uncomfortable sensation. If she came any closer, my skin would pulsate off my frame.

"No pressure," she said, circling me. Her head cocked to the side. "I've no wish to harm you. Rather, I propose an alliance."

_No wish to harm me? Heard that one before._

She'd conveniently forgotten about sending an Incubus to sex me up, kidnapping my best friend, and dragging me to Hell. Three gaping holes in her memory. "We couldn't have done this topside? I'd have met you for coffee."

"My kingdom has fewer distractions."

Which was a shame because I could have use a distraction. And a Margarita. Or six. I gave her a pained smile. "What, ah, did you have in mind?"

I didn't want to know her plan, as I had no interest in hanging around to help her implement it, but I couldn't very well start off our conversation telling Satan to go suck a horn. Not if I wanted to live through it.

Besides, I needed to figure out why she'd gone to such trouble to bring me here. What did she want from me? The possibilities rolled through my head, each more horrific than the last.

Roasting puppies like marshmallows.

Skinning old ladies with their own dentures.

Oh how about a soul-sucking death followed by eternal damnation?

_Working on that one now, thanks_.

"I ask only that you enjoy the pleasure given to you." She eyed me, gauging my reaction.

"A free ticket to ride?"

_Please tell me I didn't say that._

I needed a Valium—or a muzzle—whatever it took to shut my mouth. Sooner or later, I'd offend her and end up wearing death.

"If you choose to be crass, yes." Her gaze cemented to mine and an ancient being from the abyss stared back.

Chills zipped up my spinal column. I cut the eye contact with a shudder, and when I looked back, she was just a woman again. "I'm not—" _willing to roast for eternity over an orgasm_ "interested in Chamos."

"Not interested? I watched you come in my demon's arms, your eyes rolling back in your head." She leaned in, her cheek sliding against mine, and whispered, "I tasted your scream on my tongue. Has any man made you feel so free?"

I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn't deny I'd soared to previously unreachable heights at his touch. My mouth had rejoiced at his kiss, my flesh at his caress. And my soul had never felt so dirty. Sullied. Ruined. And that I let him, shit, _begged_ him? I'd damned myself, anything after that was merely icing on my condemned cake.

Anger and self-loathing coated my insides. It must've shown on the outside because she licked her lips, a predatory light dancing in her eyes.

Behind her appeared a throne cleaved from the same dark marble as the doors. The cold, heavy chair looked out of place in the warm chamber.

"You have a negative opinion of me," she said, and walked to the throne with actions too graceful to be human. She poured onto the seat, smooth as sand in an hourglass, laced her fingers across her lap, and peered at me in silence.

What was she waiting for? A rebuttal? That'd be a long time coming, as she wasn't exactly known for her good will towards men. I ran a twitchy hand through my hair and waited for her to get to the point before the suspense gave me a heart attack.

"I am misunderstood by your race," she finally said.

Misunderstood? Sure, like an alligator. Or a bullet.

I made the mistake of laughing. An unseen force cracked across my cheek. The blow lifted me off my feet and took me across the chamber. Lucky me, gravity was there to bring me back to the floor with a bone-jarring thud. I stayed put, sprawled over her crimson rug, and waited for lungs to inhale or give out entirely because I couldn't do anything but lie there. I'd have thought myself dead if not for her gliding, unfettered as a shadow, to crouch beside me.

Her fingers dug into my jaw as she wrenched my head up. She blinked—no, another set of lids flicked over her eyes. "You'd do well to remember where you are, human."

Her essence pushed at me and bile rose in the back of my throat. I swallowed it. If a laugh got me knocked upside the head, puking on the devil might get it ripped clean off. I managed to pull in enough air to get words out. "I won't have sex with Chamos."

I never said they were the smartest words.

Alien eyes scrutinized. Her fingers squeezed. "You're foolish. Even for a mortal." She pushed to her feet and slid back to her throne.

Because I could do little else, I rolled onto my back and stared at the dirt ceiling, thankful the urge to retch left with her. But I hurt. More than I'd ever hurt. I gingerly touched my face where she'd hit me. Pain immediately spiked. My cheek felt spongy beneath the skin. I also suspected damage to my eye because my eyelid was already swelling shut.

She waved her hand and I flinched, expecting another flying lesson.

Cold, black marble replaced the rugs beneath me. The silk curtains hardened into jagged rock. The bed vanished as if it'd been made of air. Each item in the room disappeared except for her throne, nothing more than illusions.

"Mortal."

My pancreas leap-frogged my liver at the threat in her tone. What I wouldn't give for an invisibility pill. If I thought playing dead would work, I'd have grown fur and a tail and gone possum in a snap. Instead, I pushed up onto protesting legs.

"I have a name. You want my soul on a platter, the least you can do is use it."

"Your name is irrelevant. And I don't want your soul. Is that why you refuse me?" Satisfaction lifted her chin as she leaned forward. "Keep it. You have my word."

_Said the evil soul-eater._

I shook my head. "No, that's not why. Well, not the whole why. I don't want to have sex with Chamos."

"You prefer another?"

"No," I choked out. Not anyone from her camp. I had an angel at the top of my one item list. "I'm not doing anybody. Or any _thing_." I clarified in case she tried to get technical and mate me to a lamppost.

The air hissed and swooped. Her fingers clenched around the throne's armrests. "You cannot leave here, child. There is one way in. No way out. And you are a mortal, breakable, female in a house of insatiable...appetites." A smirk stretched her lips. "How fast can you run, _Joey_?"

Jesus. The crazy bitch was threatening to rape me to death. What did I ever do to her? This level of hostility seemed overzealous for a first meeting.

"Do what you will. I'm not afraid to die," I said, sending my inner life-loving mortal into a shrieking hissy fit.

Death wasn't top on my bucket list, but I wasn't scared of it either. Why fear death when I knew life, true life, was eternal? No, death didn't give me pause. I was, however, shit-ass terrified of torture.

"Oh, little mortal, what makes you think I'd ever let you die?" Her humorless smile chilled. "Do you not know? Hell is repetition."

My senses crashed. I heard nothing. Saw nothing. Felt nothing. I might have fainted on my feet. Then everything came charging back with a roar.

The vision of Chamos tethered as flames devoured him flashed. She'd kill me and bring me back to start the torture all over again. Until I gave her what she wanted.

The realization I'd never get out of Hell pressed on my sternum. I'd never see my mom in Heaven, never meet my father. The opportunity to come clean with Shula had passed and no doubt, she was spazzing right about now.

And Ursus. My beautiful angel. He deserved better than me for a charge. He probably wouldn't accept my apology even if I could give him one, but the need to explain myself burned in my belly. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

The devil had just played her trump card and it was a big one—either do the naked bunny-hop with Chamos, or I'd get a crash course from every Tom, Dick, and Harry in the joint.

"What do you get out of me and Chamos? Another soul to toss onto your pyre? I won't. You need my cooperation, and you're not going to get it."

Her brow arched. "To rape you? Hardly. The only permission I need is for you to conceive my son."

The room seemed to tilt. Or my head was spinning. Either way, I was feeling woozy and my ears were ringing. I licked my lips with a parched tongue. "Your son."

She wanted to use me as a broodmare to conceive the Antichrist. The idea of handing over an innocent child—whether it be angel, mortal, or demon—was insane. No way she'd raise a well-balanced non-biter.

I'd thought she wanted another soul for her collection and that she took bonus points because I was an angel half-breed. The reminder perked me up. "But I'm an angel. Sort of," I said. As if she didn't know.

She gave me the first genuine smile. "Yes, and you'll pass that gift to my son, but it is your mortal blood which will conceive him."

"There are plenty of other mortals full of blood to choose from," I offered. Bravely. Throwing a random mortal under the bus wasn't my proudest moment. I'd get over it.

"I've waited centuries for another Electus. My Grigori searched high and low, but a female of your kind is rare. The last Electus was disappointing. She'd discharged three mortal whelps on the world." Her jaw clenched. "But wouldn't give me one."

"She said no?" I liked the idea of someone telling her to shove it, although my mind shied away from what Satan might've done in retaliation. Facing the prospect of eternal torture at her side, I understood how the woman would've cooperated, even if it meant sacrificing the world.

The other Electus brought to mind my angel. No wonder Ursus kept himself distant—I was a living reminder of loss and defeat, and I'd unknowingly put him in the same position as his last charge. My heart ached as much for him as it feared for me.

I rubbed at the pressure behind my ribcage. When did his dark scowls and rude mutterings take up residence with my sympathies?

"Her last bastard left her with a barren womb," she said. "Your mortal blood will accept the demon's seed, creating a child more powerful than the world has ever seen. My son, _our_ son, full of demon and angel blood, will blow open the gates of Heaven."

This time when the urge to vomit came upon me, I ran with it and barfed all over her shiny black floor. The stench of stomach acid brought on another heave, and I gave her a hell of a show. I wanted to say something witty, like, "that's all you'll get from me," but she'd probably make me eat it. I wiped my mouth with the hem of my shirt. Gross, but better than letting spittle drip from my chin.

Did she think telling me her plan would make me more likely to help? Dear God, was that possible? Could Satan rip open the gates of Heaven? Why she wanted to kick in Heaven's door mattered a hell of a lot less than whether or not she could.

If she brought Heaven to its knees, we Earthlings might as well douse ourselves in Kerosene and have a final smoke because this lunatic would fry us.

I was in a hopeless position. My choices consisted of sleeping with Chamos and bringing about Armageddon, or enduring torture until I lost my mind and slept with the dirty bastard anyway, thus bringing about Armageddon.

I knew me—martyr wasn't on my list of personality traits. And pain was not my color. Ten minutes with Chamos appealed far more than being hunted by demonic peckers. How long could I run before they caught me?

Futility burned in my gut, rolling my frustration into anger. I usually made poor decisions when I got righteous and this was no exception. I jabbed a finger in her direction, bared my teeth, and said, "You are such an asshole."

She froze—I think in shock—and then the air came alive, whipping and howling through the chamber. She clenched her fists at her sides and turned to fully focus on me. Unholy eyes flashed to slits and back again.

The base of my skull vibrated with terror. Who in their right mind pissed off the devil? No one. Clearly, my right mind fled the minute she threw down the antichrist gauntlet.

My only choice to avoid bringing about Armageddon or an eternity of torture was to make her angry enough to kill me. Permanently. I reasoned that if she were pissed off, she'd gut me and hang my innards out to dry. Maybe even make herself a nice necklace out of them. And didn't that sound awesome?

It was a bad situation when evisceration beat getting screwed six ways to Sunday by her merry crew of hard-ons.

Devi had foretold my destiny was to face Satan. She'd said nothing about walking out of Hell triumphant. Perhaps my destiny was to stop her from dominating every realm known to man. The only way I could do that was to die.

I walked to her on stiff legs. The tightness in them gave me something other than my terror to focus on. I bent down until we were nose to nose. "Yeah, I called you an asshole. I don't know if angels have one, but that's you, lady."

Before I could blink, she had me by the throat.

_Please, God, let this be quick._

The beautiful goddess melted away as her bones shifted and cracked, stretching her skin tight. The whites of her eyes bled black around the vibrant green irises and she peeled her lips back, revealing row upon row of pointed teeth.

Fight or flight took over and I tried to wrench free, but her nails had pierced the flesh of my throat and held me prisoner. Every defense move I'd learned fled my brain. I'd turned into a frightened child who couldn't convince her parents the monster under the bed was real.

Fear left a physical taste on my tongue. An invisible spike penetrated my skull and I screamed, grinding the heel of my hand against my eyeballs, willing them to ignore the vision and focus on the hissing hellcat in front of me.

She gave me a hard shake and the daydream melted away. "Did you try to read me?"

I shook my aching melon back and forth. "No." _Not on your crazy life_.

After a moment she blinked, and her eyes returned to...normal, I guess. Satan retracted her nails and stepped back to inspect me with an intensity that made me nervous. "Interesting," she mused. "I was unaware you could do that."

Her hand came up and I flinched, but rather than strike, she drifted her knuckles down my throat, sealing the punctures and chasing away the sting. She lifted her gaze from my neck and smiled as if we were BFFs, Armageddon's own Thelma and Louise.

"I shall share with you," she said, brushing the hair away from my forehead. "And you will understand."

"Oh, no, no. That's not necessary." I tried to retreat, darting glances over my shoulder for an escape route or a place to hide.

"It is." She clutched my temples and drew my face to hers. The greens of her eyes flashed with streaks of lightning, her dark pupils narrowing to slits.

I raked my nails down her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders; anything within reach. I spit in her face, kicked her, and shouted every foul name in the book. She didn't defend against the attack, or even acknowledge it, just stared into my eyes, pushing with her mind.

Power gathered, swishing and swooping, creating a thunderstorm in the cavern. The hairs on my body stood at full attention, straining out towards the electric current.

Pain slashed through my skull. I squeezed my lids tight against the mounting pressure but it did no good. I felt a tickle on my upper lip and realized it was blood trickling from my nose. Whether from her bearing down on my shields, or me trying to maintain them, I couldn't tell.

Nothing compared to the agony of her assault. It felt like a hot poker stirred my brains. If she had offered to release me at the expense of the world, in that moment, I'd have shaken her hand and signed on the dotted line.

She wasn't gentle. She wasn't kind. She unleashed a full tactical onslaught. In a matter of seconds, my walls crumbled and thick oily blackness rushed in.

_I stand before a throne of pure light, basking in God's radiance. Seraphim circle the King, their effulgent fire hiding his face. Their joy rings through Heaven as they worship our Father._

_My body comes alive in his presence, thrumming with the songs of the Cherubim._

_I feel his perfect love and devotion._

_And his wrath._

_I attempt to defend my actions, to make him understand his favored creation is unworthy of him, of any of us._

_He turns from me._

_I pivot, focusing on the angel at my side. Wavy blond hair frames a face as perfect as my own. My chest aches from the way he regards me. Michael takes me in with cold blue eyes before turning away as well._

_Heartache and despair take me to my knees. I plead for them to see the human race for what it is—vile, sinful, and undeserving of mercy._

_I'm pushed from Heaven, falling too rapidly to set my wings. Flames lick my body as I plummet and burn._

_My bones shatter when I hit the Earth. Days pass before I am able to move. More than two weeks go by before I can stand. Only then do I realize my wings haven't healed. Battered and singed, they fall to the ground in a pile of dust._

_I look like one of them—a human._

_In trying to spare him grief over mankind, I'm condemned to live among it._

_I roar to the Heavens, shaking my fist at the Father who cast me down, and vow to destroy them all. Every soul I claim I shall lay at my Father's feet, proof of the unworthiness of the diseased race._

The visions accelerated, blurring together as one after another whizzed through my mind. Centuries passed in seconds. I, as the ruler of Hell, stood beside Kings, Emperors, Czars, and even Presidents, all bargaining their soul for a rise to power. I made sports heroes, actors, artists, and musicians. Fame and power were too easy to sell. And a soul was too easy to give.

Her vile thoughts and memories slid away with the blackness as I slammed into my body. I stumbled as the muscles in my back pinched and spasmed at the base of my skull. My lungs refused to expand and take in air. My empty stomach heaved and I thought I'd choke on vomit and suffocate. At the very least I expected to pass out. But no, that would make things easy.

My muscles slowly relaxed. My lungs did their job and, once I was certain my stomach wouldn't elevate my ass three feet into my esophagus, I said, "Don't you ever invade my head again."

Her assault violated me in a way Chamos never had. I made no excuses for the Incubus, but he used my body, something that was a _part_ of me. She overtook my soul.

"Now you understand. I loved him."

"You betrayed him, and look what it got you—cast from the one you claim to love so much. Did you expect him to thank you for attacking something he loved?" I shook my head, disgusted.

She hated humans, yet she behaved like us. Arrogant. Entitled. Manipulative. She was the poster child for our worst traits. It would be comical if it weren't so freaking ghastly.

I let my head fall back against the rock. "Like I said, you're an asshole."

Her face flushed—not with embarrassment. No sir, she'd donned her unhappy mask. I doubted anyone spoke to her in such a manner.

She took a step toward me, to rip my guts out and wear them for garters no doubt, when a ruckus behind the marble pulled her up short. Suddenly, the black doors were flung wide open.

Shrieks and howls sounded in the darkness beyond the doors. The pitch of them stabbed at my eardrums and I clamped my palms over my ears, wondering what new terror this freak show was about to unleash.

Something soared into the room on flailing limbs and landed to the right of Satan.

The stench of rotting meat filled my nostrils, making my stomach roll anew. I blew a puff of air from my nose and stared at the heap on the floor.

The demon from the hospital sprang to his feet and looked around.

_Oh hell no_.

How many times did I have to see this ugly shit? Satan didn't appear too pleased with his entrance either as she had retreated several feet.

I didn't realize the marble doors had resealed until someone, or something, began pounding on them from the other side. The resulting bangs were muted but persistent and growing harder and louder.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god." I rounded on Satan to tell her to shut up, only to realize I was the one chanting. Instinct had me crouching low to make myself into the smallest possible target, because anyone strong enough to break through marble was not someone I wanted focused on me.

The doors opened with a deafening crack.

He strode in like an untamed cowboy, fresh from the Wild West. All he was missing was a pistol on his hip and a matching chip on his shoulder. He scanned the chamber and, in my mind, I shouted and waved my arms to get his attention. I even ran to him and threw my arms around his neck, peppering him with kisses.

In reality, all I did as my angel scanned Satan's throne room, was stare.

And hyperventilate.

My chin quivered. A familiar wetness stung my eyes. "Please don't be a hallucination," I mumbled, the desperate words catching in my windpipe.

His gaze touched on Satan, the demon, and then finally, on me. Time froze. His lips pressed into a grim line and he glowered as if he couldn't decide whether to spank my tail or kiss me senseless. At this point, I was down with either.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Ursus."

# 20

Ursus strode past me as if I were invisible. He stopped before Satan. She tilted her head to look up at him, a sly smile playing at her lips.

One minute they were sizing each other up. The next, Ursus had slammed his booted foot in the center of her chest. The blow sent her flying. She met the rocky wall with a sickening crunch before sliding to the floor.

The air left my lungs as if I were the one that had __ been kicked. My brain raced to catalog what he'd done. And how I felt about it. Satisfaction? I _was_ feeling rather delighted with her flying stunt. However, that joy didn't temper the _oh my God we're going to die ugly_ terror.

"Are you high? Don't you know who that is?" I demanded on a high pitch. He didn't acknowledge me at all as he regarded the still heap on the floor. So, naturally, I had to continue pointing out the flaws in his plan. "You don't toss Satan like a circus midget. We might as well suck the business end of an Uzi now."

Charles Manson didn't house enough crazy to kick the devil in her fluffies. The Incubus hadn't killed me, Satan hadn't killed me—yet—but my angel, my salvation, was giving me a fucking stroke.

I rested my hands on my hips. "Hello?"

His response was a cocky shrug that made my belly flip-flop. Either Satan had beaten me stupid—a definite possibility—, or I'd missed the grumpy guy. He apparently didn't have those same mushy feelings.

He took me in with a frown, which grew deeper the longer he scrutinized. I grimaced, under no illusions about my state of attractiveness. Bruises, claw marks, black eyes, swollen cheeks, dried blood. And that was just my face.

I don't know that I expected sympathy or a tender moment, but when he spun me by the shoulders and shoved me toward the marble doors with a, "Get moving," I was caught off guard.

Not that I didn't want to get the lead out, but a simple "How ya doing?" would have gone a long way. We didn't make it more than a few steps before screeching filled the cavern.

There's nothing quite so terrifying as the echo of unholy bellows as they bounced off Hell's walls. I jumped at visions of Satan charging, claws and fangs extended to rip my guts out. That fun coming before or after she sucked my brains from my skull like an oyster.

Except the noise hadn't come from Satan. I straightened to find Ursus with his arm cinched around the affliction demon's neck. It howled and sliced the air in an attempt to lash him, but my angel continued to drag the squalling thing past me as if it were no more deadly than a hefty sack of potatoes. "Let's go."

"Uh, okay." I fell in step beside him without getting too close. I didn't know what his plan was, but I was damn glad he appeared to have one.

A low hum vibrated my teeth.

Ignoring the panic rising behind my sternum, I ground my molars together and kept moving. When had the doors gotten so far away? It was like they'd retreated a mile.

The sensation of a thousand needles prickled over my skin. I swiped at each arm. When that did nothing, I added scratching. The prickling traveled up my spine and into the base of my skull. The pressure to turn around slowed my footsteps until they stopped altogether. Even as I glanced behind me, I cursed myself for checking.

The chamber was empty. There was no unconscious Queen of Hell sleeping it off in the corner.

"Ursus." My whisper echoed through the cavern.

His long stride didn't slow even though I was almost certain he'd heard me. Of course, he _was_ in the middle of wrestling a very unhappy, spastic, clawed demon. As much as I hated to break his concentration, problems abounded.

I tapped his shoulder and he shot me a look that said _can't this wait?_

Nope.

"She's gone," I hissed.

He spun himself and the demon in a semi-circle and scanned the shadows where Satan should have been. After muttering a few choice words that angels probably shouldn't say, he thrust the demon at me. "Take him."

"Do what?" I must have lost hearing. Or the ability to understand the spoken word. I pointed to the scaly wretch in his arms. "Did you just tell me to touch that?"

Ursus' eyes narrowed. "This," he emphasized the word by shaking the thing, "can get you out of here."

I regarded the demon with a dubious frown. It returned my study with a noise like that of a pissed off werewolf. Clasping my hands behind my back, I said, "I don't think he wants to help."

"Do not give it a choice," Ursus replied, lips peeling back from gritted teeth. He looked to be inching toward the end of his tightrope, but I'd already had a run in with this asshole. I was _persona non grata_ as far as he was concerned, so wrapping him in a bear hug was not on my to-do list.

I declined.

Ursus insisted.

And again.

In the time we took to debate the merits of demon snuggling, said demon wrestled free and buried his claws in Ursus' abdomen.

"Ursus!"

Ursus staggered on his feet and shot an incredulous look at his bleeding middle. I reached out to steady him, but he pushed my hands aside and barked, "Catch him," in my ear.

The crimson bleeding into the cotton of his shirt held me mesmerized. I was afraid to touch him and somehow make it worse and yet, we needed to stem the blood.

"Joey!"

My gaze jerked up to meet his. "Now," he commanded.

In a daze, I nodded, and went after the demon. The creature's thick body and heavy muscles were not an asset for a speedy, agile getaway. I caught up several feet from the door and launched onto its back. I have no idea if the squeal that sounded when I landed was his or mine. I realized my mistake immediately—what if it took off for parts unknown with me riding shotgun? What if its skin was poisonous, or barbed, or worse, slimy?

It didn't like the ghetto-hillbilly piggyback ride either. The thing howled its rage and shook itself like a dog stepping out of the rain. I clenched tighter and got a whiff of something awful. "God, you _reek_."

"Let go, Joey," Ursus said, latching onto the demon's wrist and yanking its arm back and up. I dismounted—if falling counted as dismounting—and braced my palms on the wall until the room stopped spinning.

"Are you okay?" I asked, aimed a pointed stare at his stomach.

"I'm fine."

A loud crack echoed and was followed by a scream loud enough to call Helen Keller's ears to attention. I spun to find Ursus had snapped off one of its long, curved talons and was jamming the pointed end into its neck.

The look on his face when he pressed in close to the demon sent shivers down my spine.

"I know you helped the Incubus bring her here. Help her escape, and you live."

When it took too long to respond, Ursus twisted the nail like a screw.

It sucked in a quick, raspy breath. "Yes."

My jaw dropped. It spoke. Not only spoke, but in English. I had only heard it grunt and growl—which I preferred. A lot. Without words, it was just a giant lizard from Hell with a bad attitude and a serious case of halitosis. With words, it was...well, a giant lizard with a bad attitude and a serious case of halitosis. And language.

Ursus snatched my hand lightning quick and forced my fingers to curl around the talon at its throat. "Satan or Michael could close the gates at any second. Get moving." He shoved me forward.

I stumbled with the abrupt push and nearly dropped the claw. The look I shot him didn't faze him. "Why would Michael lock us in here?"

"He forbade me from coming after you." He busied himself with inspecting my makeshift weapon. "Make sure to keep this buried at least an inch in his throat. He won't fight if he knows the wrong move will kill him."

I wasn't sure which conversation to follow—the one where Michael didn't want Ursus so save me, or the one where Ursus was instructing me how to half decapitate a demon.

By the time I decided the latter deserved my attention, Ursus was pushing his palms against my spine to get me moving. It didn't escape my notice that he was avoiding eye contact.

We were several feet from the doors when his hands slid off my back. I tried to glance behind me but the bundle of joy in my arms made it difficult. "What are you doing?"

"I'm right behind you."

Something in his tone rang false. I forced the demon to turn with me until we were pointed back the way we'd come. Ursus stood there, one hand over his bleeding stomach, and I knew by his expression that he hadn't planned on leaving Hell with me.

Fear for him shot through me. The vision of Chamos burning to dust, over and over, saturated my head, and I knew worse awaited my angel if he stayed. Voice stern, I said, "There's no way I'm leaving you. Either you take my hand, and we walk out together, or I let this rank piece of shit go. It's the two of us, or neither."

His mouth pinched. "Must you make everything so difficult?"

"Do you really need to ask?" I held out my free hand, willing him to grasp it.

A soft chuckle sounded from somewhere close, lifting the hairs on my nape. I met Ursus' gaze and we both scrambled for the gate, me dragging the demon and Ursus dragging me.

The doors reformed and we crashed into the marble as a unit. The demon wrenched free and, claw stuck in its neck, sped off, reminding me of a cartoon bird racing away from the coyote.

That the creature turned tail rather than attack after we'd jammed a makeshift shank in its throat didn't wig me out. Not at all. Because it meant we were badass. Right?

Uh-huh. So why did I feel like something homicidal breathed down my neck?

My instincts screamed to run, use my body as a battering ram, anything to pass through the doors. Broken bones be damned. But my bones couldn't compete with marble.

_We almost made it._

To brush along the edges of escape, only to have it slide out of my reach, crushed my will, my spirit, my soul. My existence. The small taste of freedom dissolved under the bitterness of defeat.

A subtle shift in the air and Satan appeared. She gave us an indulgent smile, confirming she'd merely played us, a cat toying with a mouse. Or to better fit the facts, a serial killer with its victims.

Even the demon stopped its rabid pacing to watch her with a wary glint.

"Achan," she addressed the demon with a soft voice. Was Achan its name? A command?

She lifted an elegant hand. Flames swayed in her palm. The flash of orange and red dulled my senses. My body and thoughts went loose and light, entranced by the fire. The longer I stared, the more disconnected I became. Peace enveloped me in a languid hug, warm as a winter blanket.

Ursus yanked me to him, jolting me out of the trance. I blew out a shaky breath. I didn't understand what'd happened, but knew it wasn't a good thing. Yet, I couldn't pull my attention from Satan and the flames.

Her eyes flickered black, reflecting the flames dance and sway. Achan, if that was a name, started making strange snort-howl noises and came at us on a lumbering gait.

Ursus threw me aside. I sprawled on my hands and knees. I understood why he did it, but damn, I'd been knocked on my ass more than enough.

The demon bypassed us in favor of pounding on the marble. When the banging produced nothing but noise, it dug its long talons into the space between the doors and tried to pry them open.

It spun, plastered its back against the panel, and fixed wide, panicked eyes on Satan. With a bellowed, "No," the demon caught fire.

It shrieked and flailed in a herky, jerky dance, but the fire raged, undaunted, until nothing remained except for the foul odor of charred flesh.

The stink filled my airways, and my guts jumped up my throat. There was nothing left to vomit, but an empty tummy and complete humiliation couldn't stop me from giving it my best shot.

"Why?" I demanded. "He's one of yours!" Not that I'd wanted her to nuke Ursus or me, but the shock of watching flesh and blood burn to dust brought a strange commiseration for the creature. Probably because I feared I was next in line.

"So you understand I won't hesitate to do it again." Satan curled her fingers around the fire, dousing the flames.

"You will not touch her," Ursus growled, stepping in front of me. He walked us backwards past the charbroiled demon. I don't know where he thought we were going since the doors were sealed. Unless Hell had a magic rabbit hole, we were stuck.

"I wasn't referring to her, old friend."

"Fine. Let her go. You can have me."

"Oh, hell no she can't!" I chirped, stepping around him to take front position.

Neither paid me proper heed. I might as well have declared myself Queen Nefertiti.

"I don't need an angel, fool."

"You can't have her," he said, walking around me again in a sidestepping game of leapfrog. He threw a glance over his shoulder that told me to stay put or else.

"What are you going to do? Kill me?" She shot off a light, haughty laugh. "You're powerless here. And even if you weren't, she came willingly."

Powerless? I'd been so relieved when he burst through the doors I'd never considered the consequences. His rescue attempt had trapped him right alongside me. He had no power to save us. And though I was supposed to be a super-charged human-angel warrior mix, I couldn't save an ant from an aardvark, and our one chance at escape had gone up like a roman candle.

"When it's time, I shall watch as you are cast into the pit with the rest of the Damned."

She snarled like a wild animal and her voice was barely human when she spoke. "You dare insult me for this abomination?"

"You are the abomination, a joke that's run too long. And we're waiting to deliver the punch line."

Ribcage deflating with lack of air, I gaped at Ursus. Was he trying to die?

_Dear God, you made this beautiful angel without an ounce of brains._

The ground trembled, casting bits of dirt and rock off the walls. She blinked in that odd serpentine fashion and her eyes flashed obsidian. Something dark slithered under her creamy skin.

Sweat pooled in my armpits and other uncomfortable places. I'd seen this look on her before and it only got worse from here. I thought for sure she'd transform and snack on our hearts. Instead, her eyelids fluttered shut and when she reopened them, her alter ego had disappeared.

She exhaled with a smile. Her hand slithered up Ursus' chest with too much familiarity. "What is it about this one that brings you here?" She assessed me with a frown. "You never came for Astrid. And I did much worse to her."

She let her touch trail close to his zipper. "Would you like to see? I can get her for you."

He gave her a bored look, as if neither her words nor her wandering caress affected him. Well, it affected the shit out of me. I wanted to rip her hair out at the roots.

She rolled her eyes to me and sighed. "How unfortunate to lose another Electus."

By lost she didn't mean misplaced, location unknown. She meant ripped into pieces so small, they'd be invisible to the naked eye.

"I don't intend to lose her," Ursus said. He didn't glance my way, but the weight of his statement sent my pulse into a jig. I was as surprised by what he'd said as much as that he'd said it.

_I don't intend to lose her._

Not only did I want him not to lose me, I wanted him to keep me.

_One vaguely nice comment from him and you're as giddy as a grizzly at a campsite._

_Shut up._

"Don't intend to lose her?" She taunted with a purr. "I've already tasted her climax and it's as smooth and sweet as honey."

I died. My lungs still processed oxygen and my heart still pumped blood, but inside, my soul shriveled. Any hope Ursus might see me as more than his charge disintegrated. No, I didn't have the right to moon over an off-limits angel, and even if he by some miracle felt the same, we were forbidden to each other. Still, I couldn't deny my biggest regret when Chamos brought me here wasn't losing my life, but losing my angel.

I pursed my lips, knowing he wouldn't like that. Hell, I didn't like it.

"Joey?"

The soft question in his voice filled me with shame. My cheeks flamed. I trained my eyes on the onyx floor, preferring to face a firing squad than his rejection. He shifted slightly, angling towards me with another soft, "Joey."

I let my posture droop with a sigh, lifted my face, and said nothing. I didn't have to. He saw the truth in my gaze. He turned away, shoulders stiff. I didn't realize I was crying until the tears slipped down my cheeks. My heart pleaded for forgiveness, but I wept in silence. I deserved his condemnation, earning it in the arms of an incubus.

"If you owned her, you'd have killed me outright." With a cocky air, he looked left and right. "And I'm still standing here. Which means she hasn't done a thing you wanted. Not willingly, anyway."

My lungs felt like a 1902 Ford left out in the desert for forty years. He didn't despise me? How was it possible he didn't blame me for being here in the first place? I blamed me. So should he.

I pressed the heel of my palm against my eyelids, but the floodgates had opened, dropping tears in torrents. A sense of giddiness filled me and with no reason, I smiled at Satan.

She didn't share my relief. Her teeth clicked as she clamped her jaw tight and half a second later electricity charged the air.

That was all the warning I got.

Ursus' head snapped as if he'd taken a punch.

"Ursus!" I rushed forward.

Only I didn't. My limbs disobeyed the command.

Another blow hit him in the stomach and his breath made a whoosh as it flew from his mouth. Face contorting in pain, he doubled over.

Power held me immobile while Satan bent beside him and, taking a fistful of his hair, jerked his head back, forcing him to look at her. "You shouldn't have come here, angel."

His spine straightened at the curl of her finger. He glared, mouth twisting with strained effort.

Her palm flattened on his chest. She leaned into him, casting a sideways glance at me. "Powerless is no way for an angel to die."

He stumbled backwards as if he'd been shoved and, from the jerky movements, I knew he had no control of his body either. His stiff-legged jaunt led him to the doors. His skull met the marble with a loud crack. Hands pressed out of the ebony rock, latching onto his arms and legs.

He sucked in a shocked breath, and then his screams filled my ears.

The bitch turned to me. "Hellfire on a holy body. It burns."

"You have me," I pleaded. "This has nothing to do with him. Kick him out."

"Not true," she said, clamping her fingers around my neck. My vision blurred around the edges, growing darker with every missed breath. She dragged me into the center of the room where something hard rammed against the back of my knees. My legs buckled, dropping me onto her throne.

"I'm starting to realize it has everything to do with him." Satan kneeled before me, eyes glowing bright green. "You have something I want. I have something you want. Trade one life for another and I'll open the gate."

Pressure built, pushing at my temples. I wrenched my head back and forth, trying to shake her loose. I'd rather she drive her thumbs into my eye sockets than have her oily blackness run my mind.

"One little life and you can both go free," she whispered.

Spikes pierced my brain. I screamed. Ursus yelled something, but it was lost under the cacophony of my cries. Was this it? The moment she pushed too far and killed me? I dreaded yet hoped for it. I wanted my life, but it was no longer mine and death would wipe away the possibility of endless suffering at her hands.

"No matter what you do," I clipped between pants. "I'll never give you a son."

The torment stopped. Silence. No pressure. Then, "Open your eyes, human."

Reluctantly, I did.

She stood beside me with an air of expectation and nodded to Ursus.

My heart froze. His left cheek was swollen and purplish. His lips were cracked and bleeding. His incoherent yells shook my eardrums. He resembled Rocky on the wrong side of a Russian, but he was alive

"Ursus." My voice fell flat. I cleared my throat. "Ursus! Calm down, I'm alive."

_For now._

Wild eyes focused on me. "Are you alright?" he demanded, voice scratchy and raw.

I nodded, unable to find words to reassure him.

"My oracle said you'd be difficult to break." Satan cocked her head, assessing. "Most humans would've collapsed long before now. Then again, if you were like most humans, we wouldn't be negotiating, now would we?"

I let my head rest against the throne. "Is that what you call this? Negotiating?"

She saw torture as compromise. No wonder we had an antagonistic relationship—I was sane and she was evil. I laughed, the sound tinged with hysteria.

"Mortal—"

I showed her my teeth. "My name is Joey."

Why I wanted her to acknowledge my name, I didn't know. Maybe because she avoided it to demean me or to distance herself. Either way, it pissed me off.

"Do you know what Hellfire is?"

"Let me just grab my Hell to English dictionary and look that up."

Her hand cracked across my jaw. I hauled in a sharp breath and squinted against the starbursts. She grabbed my chin and aimed for the doors. "Hellfire takes all the suffering of Hell and Earth, and sears it into the flesh."

_Hellfire on a Holy body._

The agony he must've felt. How did he not collapse under the weight? My own angst turned me into a head-case and I wasn't even a real angel. I ached to go to him, to erase what she'd done and make him understand how an, "I'm sorry," would never be enough to express my regret. He suffered at her hand, but it was because of me.

"He must care a great deal to endure such anguish for you. Do you not care enough to end his suffering? Say the word, and I'll set him free."

"N-no Jo-ey!" Ursus roared again when more hands pushed out to brand his flesh. He ground his teeth at the shadowy fingers sliding up his face, leaving behind vicious red welts.

Guilt would kill me long before she did. I pushed my body to move. Sweat beaded my forehead. My muscles trembled. And I remained still as the marble beneath me. My frustration came out on a scream.

_Say the word and I'll set him free._

Feeling helpless, hopeless, and worst, useless, I dropped my chin and squeezed my eyes tight. I couldn't save the world, but I could protect my angel. It wasn't fair or right. I knew everyone on Earth would suffer immeasurably, and yet, I couldn't drum up any guilt.

"Stop," I pleaded with defeat. "Please, just stop."

Acceptance sat on the tip of my tongue. She could have my soul, a kid, or a flame-throwing octopus for all I cared as long as he lived. The world be damned.

Air stirred, swirling with dust and debris and popping my ears. At first I feared Satan had grown impatient and decided to up the ante. Inside, I shriveled into the smallest possible target. The whole puppet on a string thing kept me from doing the same on the outside. Something dark took form in the shadows, moving against the black. I squinted into the gloomy darkness.

The winged demon from Bella's materialized. What had Chamos called him? Bacur? Bagdog? Booger? I couldn't remember his name, but I sure as crap recalled the iron grip.

The memory should've brought on pants wetting as I'd been close to pissing myself at the time. However, recent adventures had numbed me to the horrors of the giant's chokehold.

Satan's slow turnabout had the large demon bowing low and holding the position. I sensed she knew I'd been on the verge of giving her what she wanted, and if not for his disruption, she'd be basking in victory. She let the silence drag on, forcing the demon to speak first.

"I wouldn't interrupt if not of the utmost importance." There he went reminding me of a butler again. He approached her with a timid, bowed gait and whispered something.

She drew back from the demon, slow and controlled. "Who?" Her voice had deepened, taking on a gritty quality that left all vestiges of humanity behind.

Again, the demon spoke quietly at her side.

"Seal the gates!" She left him to do her bidding and stalked to my side.

I tensed under the hold. I couldn't pull away. I couldn't defend myself. My only decision was whether to remain silent or caterwaul.

"You're turning out to be more trouble than you're worth."

Her fist plowed into my face.

Everything went black.

# 21

"Joey?"

Awareness trickled in slow, then punched its way into my conscious brain. Someone moaned. Me? Everything from my hair down ached.

_When did I lose the fight with a sledgehammer?_

No, not a sledgehammer. Satan's fist. She'd slugged me.

_"Joey."_

With each inhale I discovered a new twinge—under my ribs, at the base of my spine, my tailbone. The pulse at my temple throbbed _against_ my heartbeat, making it a hellacious twofer. When did I _not_ have a headache? I couldn't remember.

"Joey!"

I started, and my cranium reacquainted itself with the back of the chair. An answering spasm shot down my legs. I hissed at the bunching muscles, but couldn't twitch, much less change positions. Satan may have left the building, but I was still strapped down tight.

"Damnit woman!"

"Stop yelling at me." I wet my lips and tasted blood. "I'm not deaf!"

He muttered a foul curse. "Look at me."

That would require opening my eyes. Between the tears, sweat and caked blood, they were gritty and peeling them wide would sting crazy bad. Besides, I was in no hurry to confirm that, yes indeedy, I sat strapped to an unholy altar in Hades.

Unfortunately, blindness couldn't alter reality, so I cracked open my burning lids.

"Oh, Ursus." The sight of him...

The damned had shown him no mercy.

Long gashes glared an angry red where nails had dug into his cheeks. Blisters peppered every inch of exposed flesh. Only his beautiful eyes remained recognizable as they fastened on me.

"Are you all right?"

I nodded absently. "Why haven't you healed?"

"I have no power here."

"None?" He shook his head at my raspy question. "Damn it, Ursus," I shouted, sending my gray matter into conniptions. "You shouldn't have come here."

He'd put himself in danger, and for what? To face torture at my side, tethered to rock by a maniac. I'd slap him silly if every asshole in Hell hadn't beaten me to it.

"And you should have left when you had the chance," He railed back.

A blush infused my skin. Did he think I didn't want to leave? That I'd had such a rockin' good time in Hell's boudoir I wanted an encore? If he hadn't played martyr, we'd both have gotten out of here. But no, my angel had to sacrifice himself.

"Oh right, did you really expect me to trade your life for mine?" Anger that he'd been so careless with his life burned in my gut, dampening my fear and allowing me to work up a good miff. Did he not realize what he'd come to mean to me? Did he think me such a selfish coward to waltz out and leave him to deal with that slit-eyed psycho? Hurt jumped on the bandwagon. "I couldn't leave you here. How could—"

"And I couldn't leave you here!"

My brows shot up at his fervor. The vexation melted away and I sighed, letting my head thud against the throne. "Then we're both stupid."

I tossed him an irritated scowl when he made a noise too closely resembling a chuckle.

"This isn't funny, Ursus. What she wants from me.... When you dragged that lizard through the door, I hoped...." I exhaled slowly, wishing I could as easily release my burdens. "There is no hope. Satan is gonna shred us like chipped beef. Probably eat us on toast too."

His laugh reverberated. "Don't be so melodramatic."

My jaw dropped.

_He did_ not _just call me a drama queen_.

"Melodramatic?" I skewered him with a look sharp enough to drop Dumbo the flying elephant straight from the sky. "Have you been touched in the head? We're in Hell. And the Devil? She's a mentally unbalanced super-ninja with acute homicidal tendencies. I can't protect myself, and I sure as hell can't protect you."

That wiped the jovial right off and gave him a haughty look of offense. "I don't need protection."

I scanned his body with a pointed look. "Based on some of the things coming out of your mouth, I disagree."

"You disagree?" He snorted. "That's shocking."

"You have—"

"Whether I live or die, destiny—"

"I hate that word. Don't ever say it to me again," I warned, letting my head rest against the chair. "What's destiny done for me? Shoved demons up my ass and dragged me to Hell. Yeah, I'd like to high-five destiny right in the sack. I don't give a good rip about it."

Why should I? I wouldn't make it out of here to travel that road. And who said it was the road I wanted anyway? Maybe I'd like to take the bike ramp or the carpool lane. My life, my choices. Not destiny.

"Without destiny, the world would fall into chaos," he said all somber.

My eyes circled their sockets.

_Yada, yada, yada._

"Have you taken a gander at the world lately? It's not exactly kosher."

"Without your destiny... and your child, mankind will self-destruct."

Blood rushed to my head like a giant sea swell, blocking out everything except the sound of waves crashing. "What? What did you just say to me?"

His mouth pinched. I recognized this as his me-big-chief-you-little-idiot-ask-no-questions look. Too damn bad because I needed him to clarify. Right effing now.

"Please don't make me ask you again."

He hesitated, gaze darting away as if mine were made of poisonous barbs. "Your child is prophesied."

"Yeah, I got that part. What else?" I demanded.

My child. Did I have unfertilized Wonder Woman eggs floating in my ovaries? When the hell did my kid become the atomic weapon in this war? I didn't intend to conceive a little tax write-off, and already he or she was the most popular kid in school.

No matter what side I played on, I was nothing more than a broodmare. And neither team would let me walk away and live life on my terms. Assholes.

Ursus had launched an all out optical attack on the floor. If he stared any harder, laser beams would shoot out of his retinas and cut a hole through the marble. He'd come to hell—not for me—but to ensure I lived to birth an angel-charged ankle biter.

The rejection stung and I refused to examine why. What did I expect, that he'd take it back? Or volunteer to be my baby daddy? I snorted at the thought. I longed for him to feel for me just a fraction of what I felt for him, but he'd practically shouted through a bullhorn that I was his charge, nothing more. The truth hurt more than any physical hit I'd taken.

"So you came to save the future, is that it? I'm to carry the new messiah?" I raised my chin a notch, falling back on my favorite method of avoidance—antagonize. "Well, I've got news for you, angel-man. I'm no virgin Mary."

I was being petty, behaving like a petulant child, but that's what he got for crushing my heart under his boot heel. Unreadable angel eyes clashed with mine and I shot every ounce of defiance into the glare. For a long moment he said nothing, and my bravado faltered.

"Esther Josephine Benton, don't ever think I came here for anyone but you. The only care I have for the future is that you are in it."

My heart faltered and ached at his haunted look. It said, _I've descended into the abyss to reach you because you are mine._

It made my toes curl and left me lightheaded. Amazing how one sentence could wipe away every pang. My white-winged knight in shining armor condemned himself for me. For all he'd known, I'd already lost my soul, and still he'd come on the chance I'd needed him.

His sacrifice filled me with a grace I didn't understand. And a joy I didn't deserve. I'd almost gone dark-side in Chamos' arms. The temptation to take what he offered had been overwhelming—not just the pleasure, but how much easier it'd have been.

I'd isolated myself, avoiding many friendships and lovers, anyone who might look too closely at my mask of normalcy. Even before the visions, I'd felt the difference within me. I was ripe pickings for a demon's seduction.

Ursus flipped a switch in the darkness, chasing away the shadows. With him, my oddities were the norm. He knew everything about me and wasn't fazed. No one else would do. I wanted a future with my angel.

And therein lay the pickle.

We were about to get steam-pressed on the devil's ironing board, and I was weaving daydreams around heavenly, white picket fences.

Satan held my life in her evil hands, and I didn't care. When it came to my angel, I'd hand mankind over as a housewarming gift.

Defeat chipped away at my resolve. Wetness welled up behind my lashes. I blinked tears away with a shake of my head and a sniff. "There is no future, Ursus. We're both dead if I don't cooperate."

"Don't you _dare_. She cannot take your soul unless you give it. Your very life isn't worth your soul."

"I'm not worried about my life. I'm worried about yours."

"Well don't," he snapped, irritation flashing over him. "Don't let her use me. I am nothing."

Nothing? How did a being of God place no value on his life? Especially after he'd become mine.

Pain sizzled down my limbs. I choked back a cry as my arms and legs cramped and burned.

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure," I forced through gritted teeth. "A lot of pain. I-I think s-someone's coming..."

"What kind of pain?" he demanded.

"The hurting kind!"

"Say nothing else."

Did he just tell me to shut up? I had more to say. Much more. And the time to explain dwindled as the sensation grew more intense.

Squeezing my eyes tight, I shut out everything around me and focused. I hadn't a clue how to let him in my head—or how to get into his. Not that I'd let a little thing like incompetence stop me.

Imagining a solid stone wall lined the inside of my cranium, I plucked one rock out of the pile. I chose another. And another, until my "shield" let me out.

I felt like a rodent scurrying through the walls of my own head—not to mention a complete jackass but, as with Devi, I cast my little fishing line and hoped he'd somehow catch the hook.

Heat blazed through my temples, and I almost retreated, but knowing I wouldn't get a second chance, pushed harder, reaching out to him with my mind.

_Ursus! For the love of God, answer me! I'm killing myself here!_

Silence.

Shit! Shaking off the eye-bulging agony, I braced for a second attempt.

_Joey?_

_Oh thank Jesus. This mind-melding crap is hard. It's always happened on its own before. God, this power totally sucks._

_What the hell?_ His tone of voice spoke volumes. Bewildered, impatient volumes.

_It doesn't matter. You say some stupid shit, you know that?_

He didn't respond, and I figured he wore a nasty expression. I didn't dare confirm because the slightest distraction could cause me to lose what little hold I had on this mind-talking junk. It wasn't exactly a cakewalk.

Emotions, from nervousness on down to all out terrified, suffocated my thoughts. I couldn't find the right words to express myself.

_That came out wrong._

Silence, and then, _I hope so._

I rolled my mental eyes. _Oh please. If anyone should take offense here, it's me. Do have you any idea what your being here does to me, how it makes me feel? I look into your eyes and know you suffer because of me. You can't go jumping into the fire without a thought to the consequences. You are not expendable, Ursus. I need you, so much more than you understand._

_Joey. You were powerful before I came along. You don't need me to protect—_

_This isn't about protection! It's not about power or my stupid destiny. You know, for an enlightened being, you're dense. I don't need you to protect me. Or train me. Or cut my food into little bite size pieces. My heart needs yours to continue beating. Don't you understand? I love you._

I gave a mental yank on the fishing line and slammed my shields back into place. The admission wasn't open for discussion. I didn't want a response from him. He'd either say something wonderful, making the situation even harder, or he'd say something stupid and I'd have to scratch his eyes out.

The line between us severed all together when I opened my eyes.

His jaw hung low under wide eyes. You'd think I'd declared myself a Tibetan Monk rather than said those three little words.

The air rippled and Satan appeared between us. She lingered a moment before strolling to the throne, hovering so close her gown slid over my arm.

Her rage chilled the top of my scalp. Imprisoned in my own body, I stared straight ahead, shaking like a bag of loose teeth. She grabbed a fistful of hair and jerked my head back, exposing my neck. "I'm beginning to think you'd serve me better dead."

Ursus boomed in that non-mortal language. Still, I managed to catch his drift—he was mighty pissed.

"You dare speak that language in my presence again, and I'll gut her in front of you." She regarded me with narrowed curiosity. "What is it about you that brings angels to my door?" she asked, her voice gentle as a spring breeze.

I arched a brow, knowing I shouldn't push, and smiled with cracked, blood-caked lips. "I like to think it's a winning combination of good looks and charm."

Power crackled around us, lifting her hair as if we sat in the center of a storm. The scent of ozone filled the chamber and I thought for sure she'd strike me with lightning. Rather, she sucked the oxygen from the room. I inhaled, or tried, but there was no air. My lungs burned. Dots appeared in my sight.

Satan regarded me without emotion as I suffocated, peering over my shoulder as if studying a burning bug under her microscope. And then the vacuum evaporated.

"You're a real bitch, you know that?" I stammered between breaths.

She lifted her other hand, and in her fist was the hilt of a sleek black sword. She raised it high, so I got a nice long look at the blade before she lowered it to my neck.

Each cell, down to the most basic molecular level, froze. Spit pooled in my mouth and yet, I dared not swallow.

"Joey!" Ursus called.

Rocks crumbled from the ceiling at his call. I wanted to reassure him I lived—for now—but the edge of the blade pressed against my vocal chords. The longer I remained silent, the more his agitation grew until I felt his fear as my own. If he didn't rein it in, I'd choke to death on terror.

Satan smiled—the Cheshire cat toying with her mouse. Though determined to derail her hostile takeover, I had a serious allergy to death. The only thing I feared more was a slow death.

"You are the closest thing to me that a human can be. This outcome is so disappointing."

I lifted my chin further and pressed my neck against her sword. "Go on, then. Cut my throat, oh mighty devil." If I'd had use of my arms, I'd have slapped her to egg her on.

Her pupils flashed, dark as her marble walls, and she shoved her face into mine. Her teeth elongated and sharpened, the tips puncturing her lips when she said, "So be it."

_Please, no torture, God. If I gotta meet the Reaper, let me hit a home run._

But the torture hadn't even started.

She pulled back the blade, sliding it across my neck just enough to draw blood, and then lifted the edge to inhale the scent. Her eyes closed on a sigh. "Angel blood. There's nothing sweeter."

She spun and flung the blade. Not at me. At Ursus.

Jolted out of martyrdom, I shouted, "Stop! I take it back!"

Time slowed. Her blade cut the space between us in a matter of seconds, but dragged on for what seemed like hours. My heart pounded. My muscles tensed for action, but I remained locked in place. Blue eyes fastened to mine. An eternity of words passed in the space of a single heartbeat, and then he nodded once, accepting his fate without a fight. I shrieked at him to move, fight her hold. I pleaded for him not to leave me. All without a single word passing my lips.

_Please, God, no._

The sword pierced him in the one place I'd prayed it'd miss. Ursus bucked as though he'd grabbed onto an electric current. His legs locked at the knee. His fists bunched, knotting the muscles in his arms, and the cords in his neck bulged as he let out the most anguished cry I'd ever heard. His eyes flashed white.

And then he fell.

A wild woman's screams filled my head. All of the sudden I slammed down on all fours. As much as I'd have liked to believe I was strong enough to free myself, I knew she'd released me. I scrambled, banging my kneecaps and palms against the floor. The pain hardly registered. Only Ursus mattered. Besides, the small discomfort couldn't compete with the agony shredding me from the inside out.

I stopped inches from him and took in his lifeless form. My mind rebelled against the sight. Under the cuts and burns, he looked no different than moments ago.

_Just sleeping. Please God, just sleeping._

I knew better.

I stroked the hair back from his brow with a trembling hand. My eyes burned with unshed tears, but as much as I wanted to cry, to mourn Ursus with my whole being, the pain lodged in my throat, choking me. I lifted his upper body into my lap and rocked us back and forth.

"Forgive me," I begged, burying my face in his hair. "Please forgive me."

A sharp ice-pick-to-the-brain alerted me Satan drew near. She crouched down on the other side of Ursus and reached out to touch him.

"Get away from him, you fucking bitch," I snarled, and pulled him closer as if I could protect him.

_Too late for that._

She cocked her head. "Care to make a counter offer?"

It was too much. The being part angel bit. The demons. The Devil and her Antichrist child. And now my beautiful angel. Rage burned in my veins, bringing a calm I hadn't felt before. "I'm going to kill you," I promised, meaning every word.

She smiled, revealing straight white teeth. "You want to end me, little girl? Get in line. You're not the first to try, but only one can match my power." Her fingers glided down Ursus' arm. "And it's not you or your beautiful, dead angel."

She thought taking him would give her the upper hand, that she could bend my will until I broke. But she was wrong. From one blink to the next, fate embraced destiny and I accepted what I was meant to be.

Not Satan's handmaiden. Not her weapon of vengeance.

A warrior of God.

With an agility that was both powerful and daunting, I scooted out from under Ursus and gently placed him on the cold floor. I shut down the fury at leaving him there. Allowing anger to rule would only defeat me. I pushed to my feet and faced her with a challenging smile. "You're wrong. I'm the one to destroy you."

Surprise lifted her brows and she laughed.

My fist smashed her face.

Her head snapped back so hard, she fell on her ass.

I lunged with the intent put her head on a spike. I no longer wanted death, or even life. I wanted her—her blood, her agony, her pleas for mercy.

_I am Wrath._

She vanished, and I collided with the hard floor rather than her much softer body. The impact stunned my muscles and clacked my teeth together. I ignored the ache and gained my feet, crouching low.

She reappeared with a dazed look. She drew a finger across her lip and glanced down at the blood. With a guttural inhale, she shifted her sword into her palm.

It was my turn to laugh.

Thanks to Ursus, I'd learned how to wield a blade. And how to avoid one. Her onyx saber was no more a threat than a steak knife.

Vengeance burned away what little humanity I had left. Power and a lust for her blood flared inside of me, brighter and more potent than I'd ever felt. It grew hotter, heavier, and edgier until feverish need consumed me.

_What's happening inside of me?_

The question and the care fell away with the realization the compulsion and I were no strangers. I'd unknowingly called it in Heaven when Ursus had demanded I accept my gifts and I'd tossed him across the room.

And I hadn't even wanted my powers then. What might I do now that I'd claimed them?

Anticipation electrified the synapses in my brain. My pulse raced then steadied. My hearing amplified, allowing me to hear her shallow breaths from across the chamber.

I wouldn't stop until one of us exhaled for the last time.

_I am vengeance._

Without effort or thought as to what I planned, I lifted my hand. Blue-tipped flames formed in the palm. I gaped at the flickering ballet.

I hadn't torn Ursus' shirt; I'd scorched it. Yesterday, I'd have said it wasn't possible. Now the proof blazed in my hand. It didn't burn. It didn't hurt. It belonged.

With renewed confidence, I targeted Satan and grinned. "Game on. Bitch," I said and threw the molten ball.

Her face registered shock, to confusion, to rage before she vanished, the blaze never coming near her. Undaunted, I called another sphere, thrilling at how easily it came to me, and waited for her to reappear. Her power was now mine and I intended to watch her burn.

_I'm enjoying this. God, I'm a sick puppy._

The man I loved was gone and all my thoughts revolved around destroying this unholy menace. Later, if I lived long enough, I'd fall apart. However, in this moment, I reveled in the fight.

The hairs on my nape jerked. I spun, and caught her fist with my face. I stumbled back as stars shattered my sight, striking me blind for an instant.

Her laughter rang from the left. I whirled around only to get a shove from the right. Pressing my back against the wall, I scanned the dismal shadows, seeing nothing.

Nevertheless, I _felt_ her.

The fire inside wanted out. My palms itched to bring forth the flames, to burn the bitch to the ground. The problem was I'd only get one chance. The strike had to count.

"The big bad devil can't handle a half-breed?" I shook my head with a tsk. "Hiding from a mortal. What would your demon cronies say?"

My head slammed into the jagged rock behind me. "Shit!"

Satan wound her fingers through my hair and flung me to the floor, bouncing my face off the marble like a ping-pong ball.

Thankfully, my entire physique had gone numb from the repeated abuse and this new pang registered low in priority. Lucky me.

Her weight came down on my back, pinning me to the ground. Her legs clamped my arms at my sides and she shuffled her position to speak at my ear. "I'm superior to you in every way," she hissed. "Would you kneel before a rabid dog and let it bite you?"

"Get off!" I bucked and heaved hard enough to make a Bronco proud, but she clung to me like a thirsty leach.

The floor rippled and fell away, leaving me dangling over an open pit of flames as she pressed from above. I tried rolling to throw her off. No such luck. Only her weight on my mid-section kept me from falling into the pit.

Thousands of glowing yellow eyes from creatures black as a night shadow clung to the sides of the crater. Their tortured screams echoed from the grave, carried up by the smoke and sulfur. The suffocating smog coated my nostrils and mouth, making me cough and wheeze.

"What are you?" She demanded.

I sucked in the polluted air, hacking as the soot filled my lungs. "Wh-what?"

She thrust against the back of my skull with a snarl.

"I don't know what you mean!"

"Where did you get fire?"

Panic threatened to choke me along with the sulfur. "I don't know; it was just there!"

"No, human," She growled and clamped her fingers under my chin, jerking my head back. "Fire is the most difficult element to control. It takes a great deal of strength to conjure, even more to master. It isn't something a half-blooded mortal could do."

"I don't know what to tell you! It was just there!" Unless I'd read her reaction wrong, I'd just one-upped the heifer. My ability to call fire alarmed her. Why didn't matter.

She made some alarming noises, and I knew if I didn't get out from under her in the immediate future, she'd toss me into the pit.

My lungs burned with the need for oxygen, my back ached from holding my upper body over the cliff, and the devil was draped over me like an evening shawl. I couldn't launch an attack with any hope for success.

But my power could.

I squirmed and twisted until one arm came free and latched onto her wrist. My fire came forth without effort.

Her skin sizzled beneath my palm. Her howls nearly burst my eardrums. The smell of burnt flesh mixed with sulfur and engaged my gag reflex.

Satan jerked out of my grasp. Her weight lifted and I scrambled back from the edge until my bum hit the wall. My lungs were grateful for the smoke-free air. I took it in by the mouthful as I searched for her.

She crouched on the other side of the crevice, clutching her injured wrist to her bosom.

I showed her my teeth. "That looks painful."

She shot me a look so venomous my skin should've shriveled off my bones. All of a sudden, an explosion shook the wall at my back and funneled down through the ground.

I jumped to my feet and lurched side to side when the marble floor surged upward. Satan, on the other hand, remained seated along the edge of the hole tilting to and fro with each undulation. She didn't flinch or attempt to catch herself, just watched me sway on my feet.

What was this, an earthquake in Hades? Not only was she nonplussed by the commotion, but she didn't even seem to notice it, which cemented my suspicion she was the cause. "Asshole, make it stop!"

"My Michael has come for you." Her creepy peepers tracked a path to the door, and then focused on me.

"Michael," I said, my ribs constricting painfully around my organs. Not once had I expected to survive. I'd hoped when Ursus burst through doors, we'd leave together, but I knew better. After he'd died, I wouldn't consider leaving without him.

I stole a shuttered glance at his still form. My nostrils flared. My fists curled. Rescue was not an option. I hadn't slain the beast. And until the job was finished, I wasn't leaving.

I turned on Satan with renewed determination.

She was gone.

"Oh, hell no!" She'd left me in the middle of an earthquake with no one to slay, no Michael in sight, and no way out. I felt cheated, for Ursus and me. I'd failed my angel. Failed to save him and failed to avenge him.

I ran a hand through my hair and down my face. "Fuck."

When I opened my eyes, she stood before me. Light glinted off her blade an instant before she thrust it into my stomach and twisted.

"He won't make it in time."

# 22

The serrated edge had hooked and shredded my flesh. My legs gave out. I crumpled in what felt like slow motion. My fingers laced over the wound, but with each shallow breath, more blood seeped through them, my life draining with it.

_I'm dying._

Death was a foregone conclusion—I just hadn't gotten to the end yet. That it would take place on Satan's dirty floor made it all the worse.

I consoled myself with the fact I'd chosen this over birthing her spawn. Not a great comfort when my goal had been to gut her like a pig.

_Turns out, I'm the piggy._

I snorted and sputtered with the blood it brought up. Something tickled my upper lip. I wiped it away and looked at my hand. More blood. Awesome.

A fresh surge of anger shook my body. Or maybe it was the cold seeping into my bones. Neither mattered considering I could do nothing but tremble while my lifeblood flowed on the wrong side of my skin. The good news? Shock dulled the pain.

Light pulsed to my left. I almost ignored it to conserve energy. For what? To die slower? In the end, curiosity won and I turned my head. Well, more like I let it fall in the right direction, as it'd grown too heavy to maneuver with any accuracy. The strange glow, appearing from nowhere to hang in thin air, dimmed before fading altogether. When I decided my plasma-deprived imagination had gone rogue, white light flashed through the cavern. The blast burned through my eyelids before plunging everything into darkness.

Three glowing figures stood in the chamber. Their illumination shrouded everything save for their large size. The largest, standing front and center, stepped forward and my stomach turned a somersault. Even apart from his companions, he dominated the space.

The angel who'd witnessed Satan's fall from Heaven stood before me in breathtaking Technicolor.

_Michael._

His eerie gaze sought mine.

Had I spoken aloud? With the high amount of blood loss, I might've recited the national anthem and not known it.

More liquid than air flowed into my lungs and I hacked up a fresh coppery wad. The room spun in dizzying circles. My head listed against the shiny floor. My eyes drifted shut for what was probably the final time.

"Where is she?"

Didn't he realize I was dead? What was with the chitchat? I tilted my head and let it fall, my best effort at _as long as she's up someone else's ass, I don't care._

_He won't make it in time._

Michael had arrived in time to watch my life credits roll but not in time to help me. Score one for the soul-sucking beauty queen. Two guttings in less than a week made for a profound statement. Damned if I wasn't meant to die by vivisection. I'd have checked the box marked "pass peacefully in sleep," but beggars couldn't choose with the devil.

Nasty bitch.

A warm palm rested against my cheek. I jerked away from the touch, eyes springing wide.

Michael knelt beside me and slid his hand down my arm to my belly. "Is this your only injury?"

I huffed, which brought on another coughing fit. Crimson blasted past my lips, spattering the ground next to his leg. More simply oozed up to take its place in my mouth.

His brow furrowed. "Gabriel," he called without turning from me.

Another figure stepped free of the light and I blinked at the carbon copy of Michael. Except when the second angel came closer, he had subtle differences. Michael's hair was a white blond whereas the other's was golden. Michael had broader shoulders and torso, while the other boasted the more rugged, chiseled face.

"Jesus, are you twins?" I asked. "Or d-do I have dub-double v-vision?"

"Neither." He pivoted in a half turn and instructed his doppelganger to, "take her out and heal her." With a fleeting glance at my stomach, he added, "hurry."

The second angel, Gabriel, scrutinized my torso before reaching out to...do whatever.

I snatched his wrist, startling all three of us with my speed. "Ur...sus f-first."

Gabriel's attention darted to my stomach and back again. "There's no time."

My teeth chattered so hard, I had to clamp my jaws tight and force out, "make ti...me." I squeezed his wrist with my last drop of strength.

After a brief hesitation, he nodded. "Where?"

"D-d...durs."

He leaned closer, brows drawing together.

I wanted to scream at him to haul ass, that every second wasted at my side lessened the chance to save Ursus. "D-damn it! D... oors. Doors!"

He pivoted towards the black barriers. I knew the moment he spotted my angel because he tensed and then pushed to his feet. I watched him walk over to the rubble where Ursus lay, my heart stilling in my chest.

I sent up a prayer as he placed a hand on Ursus' shoulder. Gabriel sucked in a breath. He let it out slowly. Too slowly. "Michael," he said.

My hope disappeared with that one word, and I squeezed my eyes shut against the sight. If only I could as easily block out their voices.

After a long moment, Michael replied, "Take him home, Gabriel."

I should've cried. Would've if my tears hadn't already run dry. Soon my blood would follow suit, which was no worse than I deserved.

"Joey," Michael's voice soothed. "I'm going to get you out of here. Just hold tight."

I shook my head. What the hell would I do with myself topside? Go back to my life as if nothing happened? Shit no. My only purpose now was to exact revenge.

"No." I attempted to sit, but my limbs wouldn't cooperate. Frustration and shame ripped a sputtered cry from my throat. I wanted that evil bitch. That I'd gone gimp when the opportunity had presented itself fortified my need to end her.

"Benaiah," Michael said quietly.

Benny, my favorite ginger, stepped out of the light and flinched when he caught sight of me.

I let my eyes apologize for my awesome personage. Forget hot mess, I was a steaming pile of disarray. That's Hell's day spa for you.

"Take her home," Michael commanded.

Benny stalked over to us in two angry strides. "She needs a doctor."

"It's too late for a doctor. Look at her," he said, waving a hand at me. "She'll be gone by the time you got the proper care. Besides, this wound is beyond mortals."

Well just slap me in the face with it, why don't you? A spoonful of sugar helps the bitter pill go down.

"Carry her out. Shift her once you're free of Hell."

Shift?

Oh no, thank you. I'd rather die right here. I attempted to object, but it came out sounding, "merfendog."

"She's too close to death. The shift will kill her." The concern in Benny's eyes scared the shit out of me. I'd been shifted left and right the last few days, and I didn't like it any better the last time than I had the first. And the suggestion that it might get worse?

"She's dying on the floor," Michael barked. "If she survives the shift, it will heal her."

It was the colossal "if" in that statement that made my ass pucker.

Benny frowned as if he would argue, but with a shake of his head, he hunched next to my hip. "I shall need to carry you."

He could haul me over his shoulder like a duffel bag, and it wouldn't hurt nearly as bad as the shift.

Ever poop razor blades? Yeah, me neither. But that's what it felt like. All over.

I kept my objections to myself though—mostly because speech was too much effort, and they'd do what they wanted anyway.

"I'll try not to jostle you," he said, sliding his hands beneath my butt and ribs. The upward momentum of his lifting me wasn't too bad until he spun us to face Michael and I almost spray-coated Benny in a layer of red up-chuck.

"She goes nowhere." Satan's silken voice rolled through the room, a thick, oppressive fog. My pulse hammered. I'd slice off my ears to never hear her again, knowing full well she'd star in my nightmares for the rest of my life.

The doors reformed before my eyes for the second time, and a defeated whimper slipped past my lips.

"Show yourself, Beast." Michael turned a slow circle, searching the shadows.

I started at his booming words, certain the rest of my blood had jumped ship onto to the floor in a moment of terror.

There was no mistaking his fury; I felt the same bitterness to the marrow of my bones.

"Beast?" She sighed. "There was a time when you called me lover. When you longed for my touch, begged for my kisses."

Lover?

Kisses?

_Shut the fridge, bitch!_

Michael would laugh off her claim. Any minute.

He didn't. I looked to Benny for reassurance. Judging from his tight expression and the rigid body beneath mine, none was forthcoming.

God's mightiest weapon was in love with his enemy.

"Open the gates," he commanded. "Or I will destroy them."

Her smoky chuckle echoed off the walls. "And I will rebuild them. Our war is not yet at hand, my love. You can't harm me anymore than I can harm you."

A chill that burned swept the room. At first, I thought it came from Satan. Then I caught a glimpse of Michael.

He'd gotten bigger from one breath to the next. Gold wings appeared and expanded across his back, rippling as if they were an entity on their own.

His head swiveled to face us, and I sucked in a shocked breath. His eyes glowed. They hadn't gone white like Devi's. They burned in his sockets like chunks of the sun had fallen from the sky.

As freakish as angels were, his blazing orbs unsettled me to a whole new level. The longer I looked, the brighter they burned.

Benaiah clamped his hand over my eyes and, pressing his mouth against my ear, commanded, "Do not look upon him."

"Why?"

A second later, another explosion split the air. I clung to Benny, squeezing my eyelids tight, afraid to breathe.

"Go. Now." I recognized the intonation as a gravelly version of Michael's. Dear God, what would I see if I opened my eyes? I didn't have the balls to check.

"What about you?" This from Benaiah.

A slight pause. "I'll be along soon."

Benny stiffened beneath me. "Do you think that's wise?"

"Do you think you've the right to question me?"

Silence reigned. My eyelids squeezed even tighter. Something told me I'd regret even a glimpse of the archangel.

"I'll see you in Heaven, then."

And then we shifted.

_It's dark here, perpetual nothingness._

_Nothing to see. Nothing to hear. But mostly, nothing to feel._

_No fear. No shame. No pain._

_In this death, is my peace._

_Life calls to me, beckoning, attempting to draw me up from the darkness. I want no part of the living. Life is chaos. Agony. Despair._

_Here, in the vacuum between life and death, there is only silence. An eternity of nothingness._

_For the first time, I am in harmony with my existence._

_My name echoes through the void._

_Shula pleads for me to wake._

_She doesn't understand. What I've seen. What I've done._

_What I've lost._

_Ursus' face fills my mind, his death playing out behind my eyes. Seconds tick by in hours as I watch my love die._

_Because of me._

_A scream fills my lungs. I have no voice, no need to draw air, no mouth to release my grief._

_I'd give anything to rewind time. I'd save him, no matter the cost._

_How does one end a love affair that never began? How do I live with killing my love?_

_I don't._

_I want my angel. I need my angel._

_I demand my angel._

# 23

"What do you think you're doing?" Shula stood in my bedroom doorway, carrying a tray of food, and pinned me with a stern scowl.

I shoved my legs into a pair of jeans and jerked them over my hips. Yanking up the zipper, I said, "I'm going after Ursus." I passed by her on my way to the closet in search of my sneakers.

She practically threw the tray on my dresser. The dishes rattled and clanged together.

"You can't go back to Hell."

Sneakers in hand, I walked out of the closet and found her guarding the doorway with her hands on her hips, belligerence pinching her face.

My lips lifted at her bullish stance. "He's not in Hell, Shula. He's dead."

"Well, then you really can't go after him." Her voice squeaked with alarm.

I thrust my foot into a shoe and tied the laces. Doing the same to the other foot I said, "No, I can't. But Devi can. She let Ursus into the Afterlife to see my mom with the warning she'd pull him out if he stayed too long." I took a deep breath. "I'm counting on her to pull him out now."

Shula crossed her arms and leaned back against the door frame. "If she can do that, then why hasn't she already?"

I'd wondered the same thing, but pushed the doubt aside before it broke my focus and shoved off the bed. Perhaps she needed to be asked? Or she didn't know what had happened. I tossed the theory as soon as it formed. Devi knew and _would_ return him. Anything less was unacceptable.

Dragging a shaky hand through my hair, I turned to Shula. "She can. She _will_ ," I corrected.

Sympathy filled her eyes. "But what if she can't, honey?"

I refused to believe Devi couldn't help, wouldn't even entertain the possibility. I shook my head, denying her words. And the fear she might be right.

"Then I'll find someone who can."

With that parting shot, I shifted to the Threshold.

"Let me in!" I banged my fist on the large pine, the connection clanging up to my shoulder. The tree's bark scraped my skin, but the scratches hardly registered.

Certain I stood within feet of the threshold, I cast a glimpse over my shoulder and, spotting no one of angel origin, howled, "Come on. I know you hear me."

After minutes of grumbling and shuffling from one foot to the other in impatient patience, the rhythmic pattern of running on the greenway had me turning, thinking I'd finally got the giant angel's attention. Instead, a blond jogger, complete with swishing ponytail and cutesy sweatband, ran past with a frown in my direction.

I gave her a demented smile and waved.

That spurred her to move. She shot me a wary glance on her way past. As if I was the nut—she was the one running with no one chasing her.

I gripped my hips and glared at the tree, my foot tapping a faster and heavier beat the longer I waited. Did he think he could ignore me? That I was nothing more than a pesky fly? I wouldn't slink off into the night, no sir.

"Gatekeeper of Heaven! Open this damn door, or I'll cause a ruckus the likes of which you've never seen!"

"Human." The deep voice brought my head around, putting me face to face with my favorite roadblock. Abisai crossed his arms, the flexing of those massive muscles making me gulp.

"Oh good, it's you," I said. Couldn't they get someone less vexing? "I need to see Devi." When he continued to glower, I added, "It's important. Terrible things happened and—"

"We all know what happened, mortal." His words held no inflection, and yet, animosity blanketed the park more fully than a dense cloud. Only less fluffy.

Did he think I didn't hate myself; didn't realize my choices brought about my angel's demise? I was wrapped in shame, guilt, and misery. His loathing couldn't remotely compete with my own.

"Look, I don't want to get into it with you every time I come through here." I cringed as soon as the belligerent words left my mouth. Abisai cared for Ursus, too. That Ursus returned his affection baffled me. However, because he did, I wanted to treat Abisai with respect. Within reason, of course. I rubbed a hand across my forehead, took a deep breath and said, "I need to make things right."

I'd see Devi, one way or another. If I had to bargain, beg, or beat this breathing wall of hostility to do it, fine.

"I doubt you can," he replied, stepping aside to let me pass.

The portal opened with a hair-raising whoosh.

I gave his bicep a light squeeze. "Thank you, Abisai."

Faced with the swirling vortex, my heart battered against its cage. Everything I needed was on the other side of the whirlwind. I only had to go get him.

Right on. And afterwards, I'd pull a Saber-toothed tiger out of my ass just for kicks.

My forced inhale did little to tame the butterflies in my belly. I stepped into the mist.

Peace cradled, calming and soothing, but I felt suffocated by its embrace and pushed forward with relief when the portal released me into the hall of pillars. If Heaven had a more majestic name for the corridor, I didn't know it.

"Devi," rolled off my lips as I rushed the nearest golden door and yanked it open. I dove into the blackness, praying I hadn't missed a keyword to reach the Angel of Destiny. Some of the tightness in my lungs lifted when her study came into view.

Devi stood, back to me, before one of her many shelves. "Took you long enough," she said without turning. "I've been expecting you for some time."

"I thought you might be." A relieved smile lifted my cheeks and tension unwound from my muscles, allowing my first full breath in weeks.

Devi knew I'd come. She knew what I wanted. Surely, she'd help me.

Her long fingers glided across a row of scrolls before plucking one free. She faced me. "I cannot help you, Joey."

My pulse skidded to a halt. Time ticked by where nothing but my own shallow breaths reached my ears. "You have to," I said with feigned calm.

"He chose his fate. It's not my place to interfere."

"Not your place?" My control snapped. "You've interfered since the moment I met you. You are _The_ Interferer!"

She tapped the scroll against her palm, advancing towards her desk. "Now, now, let's not name call."

I snagged her arm. Her green gaze latched on mine. "It is one thing to guide a decision before it's made, and quite another to change one after. Free will, Joey," she said, stomping on the small kernel of hope I'd nurtured with my last drops of sanity.

I braced my palms on the desk. It was that or keel over. Beneath my trembling fingers, my reflection, haunted and vacant, peered up from the glossy wood. I didn't recognize the woman staring back at me.

Normally, the rough, beaten mirror-image would've set off alarm bells, except I'd buried my vanity weeks ago in Satan's dismal cave. Vanity and pride belonged to a dead woman.

"Please pull him out, Devi. Please," I pleaded on a whisper. "With everything in me, I'm begging you."

She settled in the chair and rested her elbows on the desk. "It is beyond my power." Her quiet words carried sympathy, understanding, and regret.

"Bullshit!" I inched forward over the wood. "You opened the gates with the threat to pull him out by force. Do that now."

"Then it's the authority I lack." She clasped her hands and peered at me over the laced fingers. "I cannot give life, Joey."

I pounded my fist on the desk, the boom sounding as barren and hollow as my soul. "I'm not asking you to birth him. _Just bring him back._ "

"Semantics, Joey."

"Stop saying my name. This isn't a damn therapy session. What? You think you're talking me down off a damn ledge?" My voice cracked. I forced air into my lungs. "You're an Angel of Destiny. Why do you think I came to you?"

"I know why you came, but his body died. There is no home for his soul."

"Then stitch him a new one. Or steal one, I don't care!" My self-control went the way of the Dodo.

My vision blurred and I shoved off the desk, unwilling to shed tears in her presence. They fell anyway. I wiped them away with the sleeve of my shirt. I couldn't so easily remove the despair rooted in the core of my soul.

When had I turned into this simpering wimp? One who begged for mercy rather than commanded justice? I came to free my angel. And here I sat, allowing Devi to direct not only my fate, but his as well. Again.

I faced Satan for Pete's sake. And I couldn't convince an angel to do the right thing? My ass. I dried my cheeks, pulled my spine erect, and said, "I won't leave until Ursus stands before me."

She took in a breath to answer, but I cut her off.

"No. The how doesn't matter. Even if you have to shove those long legs into a DeLorean and race your ass to the past a la 'Back to the Future.' You will return him."

Her eyes narrowed. "Who do you think you are?"

"I'm the mortal whose life you crashed. I'm the half-breed you trained to fight that bitch to save an ungrateful world. But mostly," I conjured a ball of flame and lifted it between us. "I'm the Electus who's come for her angel. And I'm not asking."

Sweet nuts, was I actually threatening the craziest angel in Heaven? Or how about the bigger question, would I follow through on it? Common sense said no, I wouldn't, but I ignored the compulsion to back down. Defeat was not an option. I'd fight for him until I took my last breath. And given Devi's stony expression, my last breath was approaching at a high rate of speed.

Her gaze flickered from green to white and back again. Her hair, already in spiky disarray, stood up on her scalp like a cat about to get its hiss on. "Put that away, little girl. You sauce my hair, and I'll bring out all my ugly."

I hesitated. The fire was my only defense should she decide to offer up a full serving of ugly—whatever that meant. Of course, she might do that anyway, given I'd threatened her. I liked Devi—as much as one could like an unpredictable lunatic. She wouldn't help get Ursus if I made her my enemy. My cheeks were the only things left flaming when I extinguished the ball.

"Do you think I want to tell you no?" she asked, leaning forward on her elbows. "Your agony ricochets around my head, a stray bullet of despair. I want nothing more than to return his life. I've got nothing to work with."

Maybe Devi could bring him back, maybe she couldn't. But she wouldn't. And I couldn't bully her into it. Shame tasted like charcoal. Chased with chalk. Weighed down with my failure, I sank onto the loveseat and clasped my head in my hands.

The last time I was here, Ursus had stretched out on these cushions. It had never dawned on me it would be one of the last times I saw him. I stared at the upholstery as if I could will him to appear. I grabbed the pillow he'd rested his head on, hugged it my chest, and inhaled, but his scent was long gone.

"He shouldn't have died," I murmured, too numb for the conversation.

_Because of me._

"Every choice has consequences."

The pillow hit the couch with a soft thump. If I could've shot daggers with my mind, she'd have been bleeding on the floor. "That's pretty callous, especially for an angel."

"Simply a fact. Life without consequences is its own death, dear. By the way," she said, blue brow arching. "You wield Holy Fire. Won't do a thing to angels. Except piss us off."

My eyes snapped wide.

_Holy Fire? Holy_ shit!

"How? I'm just a—"

"Dirty, sinful human?" she offered.

"Yeah, that. Exactly," I replied with a wry twist of my mouth. My thoughts scrambled. Ursus had been powerless in Hell. Yet, I'd been able to call both my powers. How did a half angel, half...dirty, sinful human channel a power from Heaven when an angel couldn't?

"You understand just enough to be dangerous, don't you?" she muttered. I took it as rhetorical. She dropped onto the rug, bent her knees, and crossed her ankles. "Mortals are just as powerful as we angels. And demons."

"I beg to differ. A lot."

"Well, not in the same way, of course."

_Of course. As if that makes perfect sense._

"I don't understand." I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyelids. "And I don't want to. I don't need a history lesson."

"Yes, you do."

_Well, now that's settled..._

She vibrated her lips with a burst of air and drummed her fingers on the floor as she studied me. With a brisk nod, she said, "Each divine being is born of an element. It's the power we harness—"

"Element? Like the four elements?"

"Five, actually. There are five."

I ticked off Earth, Air, Fire and Water on my fingers. And held up the evidence. Four.

"Poo shit." Mirroring me, she raised a hand and counted down the elements. "Earth, nurtures life. Air, disperses life. Fire, warms life. And Water, brings life. But blood, mortal blood _, is_ life."

I stared for lack of a better response. Five elements, with mortal blood being the most powerful. No wonder Satan wanted to fillet us. In her eyes, we were talking monkeys armed with nuclear blood.

Devi had raised more questions than she gave answers. It was like hitting a brick wall at warp speed—sure, you'd make a big hole, but the impact would crush every bone in your body. Not exactly progress, and certainly not helpful.

And she hadn't finished—the frolicsome glint in her eye said, _Cement blockade dead ahead!_

"You have dominion over three of the five elements. Blood, Air, and Fire." The corners of her eyes tightened. "That makes you our most powerful weapon."

I swallowed a mouthful of cotton, holding perfectly still. Unfortunately, the lack of movement didn't convince my ears to unhear the words. Grill my ass and call me chicken. Every time she opened her mouth, Heaven's noose tightened around my neck. "I'm not your weapon. I can't live with this—"

"What can you live with?"

"What?"

"Every choice has its consequence. And every sacrifice," Her sharp gaze pierced through my flesh, seeing down to my soul. "Its reward."

She was trying to send a message without speaking the words, but whether she was being too obscure or I was being too dense, I couldn't' fathom the significance.

Frustrated, I threw up my hands. "I don't get it. I know you want something, but I—"

"Sacrifice, Joey! I need something freely given to undo a choice freely made." She leaned forward on her arms so far I expected she'd tip over. Her intensity could've formed its own body and stomped from the room. "Now, what do you offer?"

Her meaning finally rang my doorbell. My heart beat triple time, pumping panic into my blood stream and all my organs. Sure, I'd embraced the whole archangel's baby girl thing underground, but I still longed for a normal life—a family, a home, to exist on my own terms. I wanted the same human rights afforded to everyone else.

Except I wasn't like anyone else.

I was a mortal angel with the ability to see evil's true face. I possessed the powers to crawl into another's head and wield fire at will. I'd walked through the bowels of Hades, from which no angel had returned, and fought with powers no other angel had.

Unique to both Heaven and Earth, I was valuable in the battle of Good and Evil.

To bring back Ursus, I must fight in this war. To walk away, I had to leave my angel behind.

My choice—die to one life to live another.

Sacrifice.

Serving Heaven, possibly at the expense of my life, didn't scare me. Well, not enough—I could handle it.

What paralyzed was the fear Ursus would reject me. Not only as a woman but as his charge. What if he didn't understand why? Would he blame me? Of course he would. I blamed me. Would he understand and hate me anyway? It was the unknown that coiled deep in my soul, waiting to strike with deadly poison.

He could hate me forever as long as he lived to do so.

"Okay, I accept. What do you want me to do?"

I expected applause, a high-five, something. Hell, a thumbs up would've been nice since I just agreed to play Xena. Instead, a blink of her cat-green eyes was the only indication she heard me. "Uh, did ya go deaf? I said yes."

"I heard you. Understand this—I can only petition on your behalf. I _do_ lack the authority. Free will is definite, and I can't undo the consequences without permission. Do you understand?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Air shuddered in my chest as if filtered through a handful of rocks. And when had I swallowed the rabid porcupine?

She pushed off the floor and advanced around the edge of the desk.

I scrubbed my cheeks, heart tripping over itself with excitement and dread. Nerves made me twitchy and I drummed my nails on the armrest, zoning out to the soft repetition.

A drawer opened and closed.

"Please tell me you're not going to toast this occasion with some hooch," I teased, certain I'd drink the bottle myself.

In the next instant she stood before me, a blank expression on her face.

Every hair on my body jerked skyward. I edged back against the cushions, my gaze darting from her face to the hand she hid at her rear.

"Devi?"

"Blood is life." She drew a knife from behind her back and raised it over her head. "I need yours."

# 24

The shower spray was hot enough to blister anyone else, but I cranked it a notch higher, the water scalding my skin and chasing away the chill in my bones, reminding me I was still alive.

It'd taken me several days to realize I wanted to live.

Most of my injuries had healed, fading into a nightmare time would eventually dim if not erase from my memory. At least, I hoped it would get better.

After Devi scared my ovaries dry with her whip-out-a-knife-like-a-B-slasher-movie routine, she captured my blood in a vial, and mumbled, "I'll be in touch."

Foolishly thinking, "I'll be in touch," meant "I'll see you in a few hours," I'd wrapped myself in a blanket and settled on the couch to wait. Minutes ticked past and hours turned into days, days into weeks. Week three had begun this morning.

I tried to avoid dwelling on the Angel of Destiny's silence because it was like waiting on the celestial phone to ring—the longer it didn't, the more I became sure it wouldn't. Thoughts of Ursus consumed me, making it increasingly difficult to hold on to patience, much less hope.

If she failed me, then I failed Ursus. And I had nowhere to turn.

Doubt grew with each passing day, stabbing at my heart and cutting it to pieces inch by inch. Soon there'd be nothing of me left for Ursus to return to.

Assuming he wanted to come back.

All things considered, I'd probably never see him again. As much as that hurt, I understood. Still, no matter what happened between us, I'd honor the deal I'd made with Devi.

Which made me a weapon under Michael's command.

Besides, my old life lay in the barren wasteland of shattered dreams. I didn't belong to the human race anymore.

I'd recently realized I never had.

On the down side, I didn't fit in with the angels either.

So how to reconcile two entirely different worlds? Not a clue. I only knew I couldn't turn a blind eye to the beasts who'd declared war on both. I'd hidden long enough. I'd never claimed to be a saint, but I'd certainly been a coward.

No longer.

Every demon to cross my path, I'd send back to hell in pieces. Like a pig with truffles, I'd sniff the evil bastards out and annihilate their ranks.

_I am the hunter now._

A soft rap of knuckles sounded on the door, pulling me out of my reverie. "Joey? Are you alright?" Shula's voice cut through the torrent of the shower spray.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Be out in a minute."

There was a brief pause before her footfalls retreated.

With a sigh, I ducked my head under the spray for one last rinse and turned off the water, pulling back the shower curtain to glance at the clock by the sink. Forty minutes spent in the bathroom.

No wonder Shula'd come looking. With my melancholy, feel-sorry-for-myself attitude of late, she'd probably worried I'd drowned myself. As if.

I wouldn't give Satan, that evil heifer-bitch, the satisfaction of snagging my soul for suicide. Besides, I had a million and one demons itching to knock me off and beat me to the punch. Why search for ways to kill myself when all I had to do was walk out the front door?

I gave myself a mental pat on the back.

_Always thinking._

After drying, I hung the towel on the rack and tossed on the first thing I grabbed. Black stretch pants and a red, paint-stained tee-shirt.

Out of habit, I looked in the mirror and then wished I hadn't.

A waif looked back at me—a stranger with my reflection and yellow-brown bruises running along her jaw. A matching semi-circle under my left eye completed the walking-dead complexion. The swelling had gone down at least.

As for the rest of me, I could've doubled for a wire hanger.

Only my hair showed signs of life, sticking out in every direction.

I hated the girl in the mirror, the broken shell of the former me. The new Joey stood somewhere between the naïve chit who asked an angel to drop trou, and the merciless weapon who sacrificed her love at the hands of the enemy.

I rubbed fingertips over the ache in my sternum and turned away from my reflection.

Shula yelped from the next room. A moment later, she said, "She's in there."

An almost indiscernible flutter whispered over my skin. I crept to the door and pressed my ear against the wood. "Shula?"

Silence.

Instinct pushed me to confront the intruder, but not knowing who or what lurked on the other side of the door, I curbed the impulse to race off half-cocked and called my sword. Its weight in my palm gave me a boost of confidence. Even if I did suspect it was a false sense of security.

I considered using my mind to search out the uninvited guest, and then disregarded the idea. I didn't have a handle on my power, maybe I never would since I found the concept appalling. So it'd no doubt hinder more than help. Besides, using it gave me a bitch of a headache.

Fire, on the other hand, came to me with little effort.

I called the holy element and delighted when its heat filled my palm. A weapon in each hand, I traveled the hallway without a sound, inching forward until a small section of the living room came into view. I paused to listen—and muster up courage. Silence greeted me, though I _felt_ someone—or some _thing_ —other than Shula.

Part of me was jonesing to attack first, ask questions never while the other half still hid underneath my bed in a quivering heap of pathetic uselessness. I used that nervous energy to propel myself around the corner, weapons raised for a fight.

I couldn't have stopped more completely if I'd hit concrete.

Five weeks weren't long enough to forget his beauty; nevertheless, he was more glorious than I remembered. My brain took a hiatus, processing only little snippets at a time.

Dark jeans. White shirt. Broad chest. Wavy, black hair. Luminescent blue eyes that electrified to my core.

Some agitated organ jack-hammered inside my rib cage. I wanted to rush into his arms and beg forgiveness. I'd promise anything, just so long as he never released me.

Shula rose from the edge of the couch with a subtle cough. "I'm gonna go."

The front door swung open on its own, inviting her to make good on her words. She cocked a brow, her lips lifting in a half-smile. "Call me later. Much later," she said and stepped out with a wave.

The door drifted shut behind her. I stared at the closed door, almost wishing I could run after her. Otherwise, I was alone with the man I loved. The man I pretty much killed. What would I see when I looked into his eyes?

Adrenaline coursed through my veins, making me jittery, though I felt rooted to the floor by my heavy, sluggish limbs.

Time itself seemed to pause and hold its collective breath when I dredged up enough courage to face him.

He didn't smile. He didn't speak.

My knees threatened to buckle. I played the _what if_ game in my mind, weighing the pros and cons of approaching him. Unfortunately, the rest of me had other plans.

I placed a trembling hand on his chest.

Heat. Strength. Life.

My eyes slid shut. "You're real." I said, then took in a shuddering breath. "Or the best hallucination I've ever had."

"You're hallucinating."

Wide-eyed, I searched his gaze. His mouth twitched. My own lifted a bit in response. I laced my arms over my chest and surveyed him from the top of his glossy black hair to the scuffed toes of his boots. "I don't know whether to kiss you or slap you for that."

"I'm sure we'll get around to both." His interest slid down my body with the speed of a snail. A dead snail.

My pulse skidded to a halt then jack-rabbited. The heat in his eyes had my toes curling into the carpet. He needed to stop looking at me as if I was the sweetest lollipop in the candy shop, or I'd embarrass myself. Again.

He pushed closer with slow, deliberate steps. I watched him from under my brows, breath shallow on my lips. He traced the bruise along my jaw. "So which is it?"

I started at the soft question. "Which is what?"

His fingers curled around my nape, holding me still as he lowered his face to mine. "Are you going to kiss me or slap me?"

My tongue stuck to the roof of my suddenly dry mouth. Certain I'd misheard him, I searched his cool, arctic eyes. He looked like my Ursus. His masculine, earthy scent filled my nostrils, making my heart flutter. He smelled like my Ursus.

But he sure as nuts didn't act like my Ursus. My angel didn't look at me with want. Exasperation? Yes. Anger? You betcha. But craving? Nuh-huh.

I shifted the dagger into my hand and, pressing the blade against his throat, said, "Who are you?"

His eyes took on a saucer effect and he inched away from the blade. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm serious alright." I flicked the tip against his jaw. "My angel doesn't flirt. I worked my cute ass off for every kind word. So, who the fu—"

One minute I had control. The next, my dagger went airborne, ripped from my grasp. It banged against the wall and fell to the floor, leaving me empty-handed and sputtering.

A glimpse of those flashing cerulean eyes sent the blood to my skull.

My feet carried me an instinctive step back. I shifted. Or tried. The instant the idea formed, he spun me around by the shoulders and crushed my chest to the wall. His weight pressed against my backside, effectively pinning me.

"Hey! That's totally unnecessary."

He jerked my hands above my head and clamped his iron grip around my wrists. "Do you recognize me now, you obstinate, pigheaded woman?" His growl tickled my ear, sending delightful shivers down my spine.

Now _that_ sounded like my angel. Vexed, bullyragged, irked? Check, check, and double check.

"Relax." I tossed to the mountain at my back. "You had me at obstinate."

Not that I wanted him to stop. I had an overwhelming urge to press my bottom against the fly of his jeans and declare today a national holiday.

He hesitated, then eased his grip slowly and when I twisted around, he eyed me as if expecting me to turn into a hissing hellcat.

No dummy, my angel.

I laced my hands at my rear and leaned back against the wall. If that didn't assure him of my good intentions then I didn't know what would. His gaze narrowed further and I couldn't help but grin at his sour expression.

_God, how I missed that scowl._

He placed his palms against the wall, bracketing my head, and leaned down. His breath brushed my lips when he said, "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

_Duh._

Anytime he wanted to frisk me was A-okay in my book. I almost slapped him and offered myself up for another pat down. I licked my lips and shrugged, the epitome of innocence.

His gaze slid to my mouth. His pupils dilated. Nostrils flaring, he took in a deep breath.

Air solidified in my lungs. Did his brain melt over on the other side? He wasn't allowed to look at me like that, not when it revved my libido.

The sudden change in him made me nervous. I pushed tighter against the wall. "There's this thing called personal space. Give me a little, will ya?"

"Why would I do that?" Satisfaction lit his eyes. His fingertip slid along the curve of my lip, tickling the sensitive flesh. "When I feel how much you like it?"

My lips parted at the soft caress and swayed forward. Like it? I loved it. And hated it. Where would it leave me if he stopped?

I inhaled deeply, a physical effort to get my raging hormones under control before I jumped his bones like a trampoline. Neither of us needed the complication it would bring.

He tilted my chin to look at him. "You fear I'll abandon you. Why?"

"I don't," I lied. He arched his brows in a clear try-again-liar message. I grimaced under the scrutiny and nodded. "How'd you know?"

I'd been both dreading and anticipating seeing him again, fearing he'd hate me. Hoping he'd tolerate me. Never dreaming he'd handle me with such gentleness. His reaction threw me off balance, leaving me baffled and full of dread as I waited for the other concrete shoe to drop.

He frowned in thought. "I feel it. Your emotions are zinging through my veins, like you're in my blood."

_Blood is life. I need yours._

I felt the color drain from my cheeks. I hadn't known what Devi needed my blood for, and I hadn't cared. All that mattered was she did what needed doing.

"Devi took my blood."

# 25

He stilled. Blinked. Then, with a steely voice, demanded, "Why?"

"I asked Devi to bring you back from the dead. She needed my blood." I held his gaze, refusing to beg for mercy. Or understanding. "I did what I had to, and I won't apologize. I'd have given my soul if she asked."

A kaleidoscope of emotions twisted his features. From disbelief to horror to wonder. After moments of uncertain silence, he asked, "And she agreed. Just like that?"

Well, there'd been groveling, bargaining, and threatening on my part. And she didn't agree until I offered myself up on a platter.

Averting my peepers, I muttered, "I asked real nice."

Even as the fib rolled off my tongue, I knew it wouldn't fly. Lying was just not my stinking forte.

Laughter rumbled from his chest. "No, you didn't. I doubt you know how."

I straightened myself out, slapped my hands on my hips and glared. "You've no idea. I sold my ovaries to Satan so you can stand here and insult me." I'd never. But he'd been off in dead land while I bargained my freedom to Heaven. For him. Chortling at my expense was so not the thank you I deserved.

"No, you didn't. You wouldn't." Another chuckle, then he said, "Your blood flows through me now. I can feel your emotions. For example," he traced a line down my temple to my jaw. "I nicked your pride. Didn't I?"

My innards froze into organ shaped ice cubes. Pride be damned—I had none where he was concerned—the whole sharing emotions thing freaked me out. Could he slide into my head, reading my thoughts at will?

"Well, how long is that gonna last?" I demanded with a squeak. It had to fade. Surely, his blood would overpower or absorb mine, killing off this hinky-jinky mind bunk. Right? There wasn't enough room in here for the both of us.

"Forever. We're blood bonded."

The room seemed to lose its air. I sputtered and wheezed, unable to drum up the spit to swallow, much less speak. I teetered to the side. Ursus' hand shot out and tilted me upright. Oh crap, was the room spinning too?

"Oh God, I can't have you mucking around in my head," I murmured. I think. I meant to, but my ears were ringing and I wasn't sure if I'd spoken aloud. Was nothing sacred with these angels?

"I can't read your thoughts, Joey."

"Oh?" I said, still working to find my equilibrium. "Then how do you know I'm stroking out about you knowing them?"

"Everything shows on your face. I can feel what you feel, but it's not the same as knowing your thoughts. I promise I don't know what you're thinking unless you let me in."

_I'll be keeping that mental door shut and bolted, thank you very much._

"That's good to know." My legs stopped their wobbling. I gave him a slow smile. Until he moved in, invading my personal space again. I pressed into the barrier at my back. "Uh. Ursus?"

His fingers glided down the valley between my breasts. "But when I touch you...," the words drifted off his lips, light as wisps of smoke. "Your pleasure sings in my head."

He rested his palm on my belly, heating me from the inside out. Our gazes locked and my skin threatened to sizzle. Oh yeah, my joy was singing, alright. So was everything else.

"And when I taste you," he murmured, leaning down to nibble at my lips, "your want of me ignites my blood."

I'd deny it, but I no longer spoke English. Not in a coherent manner. How could I when my pulse bounced from a standstill to warp speed and back again. "Blood bonded. What, ah, what does that mean?"

The term on a whole didn't convey a casual, passing encounter. Not that I wanted one. Still, as a child of uncertainty, moving from one place to the next for most of my life, the concept of permanence scared the bejeebers out of me.

"It means, Esther Josephine Benton," he said, pushing up against me like a prowling cougar sidling up to his mate. "Run if you must. Hide if you can. But you are mine, and I will always find you."

I swallowed as well as I could with my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Where was this coming from? Believing we had something between us would only hurt when it all crumbled. Unfulfilled hope weighed more, crushed worse, than the heaviest fear.

And I'd been crushed enough.

I needed space, and he was crowding all of mine. I gave him a soft push backwards, a hint to move aside. I might as well have tried to relocate a glacier. He didn't allow a modicum of reprieve. If I stepped to the side, he blocked my escape with a subtle shift of his body.

"I'm confused," I said, rubbing a hand over my face. "What happened to the no touchy-touchy rule you're so fond of? Isn't that the first commandment in your Angel Handbook of Laws and Transgressions?"

"Oh, now you want to follow the rules?"

His taste on my tongue reared up to refresh my memory, and I unconsciously licked my lips. "No. Not particularly." Had the afterlife wiped his memory or something? He might not blame me for his death, but that didn't change the fact I did, and the issue stood between us, a gaping cavern. "But you do. It's just who you are. Besides," I said, dropping his intense gaze, "When you did break the rules, you died. By my hand."

"No." The rumble came out somewhere between human and animal. He stood so close I felt his muscles tense.

"Yes. It's not what I wanted, and I hate myself for it, but it's a fact."

Pieces of me died with Ursus on Satan's cold, black floor, and I faced that memory every time my eyes closed. My nightmares were filled with him collapsing over and over again. And no matter how fast I raced to his side, I was too late.

I'd rather skinny-dip with piranhas than have this conversation. Shame and guilt threatened to silence my tongue, but he needed to understand what the decision had cost me so he might understand the next one I had to make.

"There was a flash of light." My words were slow and weighted as if I were speaking through honey. "Your body jerked, just once. Then you were gone."

The back of my eyelids burned. I blinked against it and wetness slid down my cheeks. "I watched you die. I see it every time I close my eyes. And it cuts far deeper than Satan's blade. I can't survive that again." I shook my head. "You said so yourself. Angels and mortals can't..."

He cupped my cheek. "Fall in love."

"Don't say that." I turned my face into his palm and squeezed my eyes shut. "We aren't destined for a happily ever after, Ursus."

Silence answered. I opened my eyes. He regarded me with a gaze as cloudy and turbulent as a thunderstorm at sea. "Do you not love me?"

He might as well have shoved his sword through my heart. I rubbed my eyes until the burn retreated. If he had the direct line to my emotions he claimed, then he knew how much I loved him. And how much it hurt to push him away.

"You know I love you. Which is why you need to get as far away from me as possible. I'm sporting a huge target on my back. Satan, or an unholy menace of hers, could come for me any time. I'm pretty sure I'm number one on her eternal hit list. I can't get away from it. And I can't lose you again." My heart rebelled, screaming in an eye-bulging, foot-stomping, fist-clenching order to shut my mouth. I tucked my upper lip between my teeth and bit down. "Get Michael to reassign you."

His chest vibrated with a laugh, but the good humor didn't reach his eyes. "Michael wouldn't reassign me even if I wanted him to." He pushed in close, menace pulsating the air around him. "Do you really think to send me slinking off into the night? That I wouldn't fight to keep you?"

"The thought crossed my mind?" I asked hesitantly.

He bared his teeth. "I suggest you rethink it."

The violence in his tone raised my brows. I'd approached this with logic, putting myself aside for his safety. How to send away the one I needed to keep close?

"Are you daft or deaf? We are a no go, capiche? I can't...." lose you again. I twisted my fingers in my hair and tugged the tufts with annoyance. At this rate, I'd be bald by the end of the day.

My frustration bounced right off my knight-in-shining-wings. He regarded me as if I'd announced myself an all-you-can-eat-buffet. And then hung an open sign above my head.

I inched along the wall in desperate search of refuge. He caught me about the waist, and dragged me back before him. "Going somewhere?"

I couldn't decide who he resembled more—the cat with its canary, or the big bad wolf. He definitely had the predator in him and it made me nervous. And hotter than a lit match in Hell.

"You're crowding me," I said. Where did the Marilyn Monroe voice come from?

"I know." He pressed closer and lowered his head to the crook of my neck. "I like it."

"Well, I don't." Liar, liar, pants on fire! I pressed him back with my palms against his shoulders, unable to think straight with him short-circuiting my synapses.

He tightened his hold at my hip, keeping me in check as he inhaled. "Yes, you do. I can smell it."

Denial died on my tongue when he nipped the soft flesh below my jaw. My fingers curled into my palms, a pitiful effort to keep from sliding them up his chest. Or down his pants.

"I can taste it, too." He growled his satisfaction, turning my legs to putty. He raised his head and shot me a look that dared me to deny it. "Play contrary all you like, Joey, but we're bonded. You can't fool me."

"I'm not playing contrary, you stubborn ass." I snapped my teeth. It was safer than kissing him, which I very much wanted to do. "I'm trying to keep you alive."

He'd clearly forgotten the whole angel-human-no-go thing. My own father had gone AWOL, and though I wasn't clear what that mean in angel terms, I wanted different for Ursus. Besides that, Satan's band of flying monkeys were probably en route to collect me, and I didn't want Ursus in her line of sight. Fear for my angel overruled my desire.

"You've been back for, what? An hour? And you're already lining up for a train ride back to dead." His death nearly destroyed me. The one thing that kept me going was the miniscule chance Devi would fulfill her end. I'd bargained my very existence and he wanted to throw it all away for a journey to the center of my pants?

"Joey—"

"Did you lose brain cells on the other side?"

"Knock it off—"

"Was it a personality transplant? Because seriously, you're not acting like you. You're sure as hell not thinking straight because—"

His mouth crashed down on mine, hot and demanding.

My mind insisted I resist. I did my best. If one called melting into him and letting him ravish my mouth as if he were starving putting up a fight. He licked and nipped only to abandon my lips to nibble his way down my neck, teeth grazing my collarbone. The light scrapes scorched my skin. My stomach clenched, and my breasts tightened, begging for his attention.

Swallowing a moan as his tongue slid over the pulse at my neck, I pushed at his shoulders. "We can't."

Frustration rumbled his chest. He clasped my cheeks, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Can't you trust me just once? I'm going nowhere. And nothing this side of Heaven or Hell can make me."

Ursus had never lied to me, or colored the truth to his favor. I'd thrown fit after fit, and even when a little fib would've saved him a lot of grief, he still gave it to me straight. I nodded. "I do trust you, Ursus."

The tension slid from his shoulders with a slow exhale. His hands slid down my arms in a light caress. A smile lifted his cheeks. "Okay."

"But it's still not a good idea," I said. "Why are you trying so hard?"

Ursus snorted and pressed his forehead against mine. "Didn't we just cover this?"

"I don't mean why you're _able_ to stay." I ignored the tightening knot in my belly. In for a penny, in for an elephant. "Tell me why you _want_ to stay."

Right, wrong, allowed, forbidden—none of it mattered. Rules be damned. He held my heart in his hands. I needed to know if he'd crush it or cradle it.

Sure, I'd intended to send him away. If he'd gone? It would've crippled me. He became my life the moment he broke into my house—not the most auspicious beginning. I wanted to lock the door and place a skyscraper in front of it so he couldn't escape.

He skimmed my cheekbone. "Oh Joey. Don't you know by now?" His lips whispered over mine and he repeated the words I'd spoken to him in Hell. "I love you."

All the blood I needed to think raced from my head. I swayed on my feet. I blinked rapidly against the threatening tears and dropped my head over my chest.

"Don't cry, pretiosa." He tried to tilt my chin to look at him. I shook him loose.

"I don't even know what that means," I said more to distract from my oncoming meltdown than an actual interest in the word. He'd called me that once before when I'd been dying—the first time.

"It means cherished. My most precious; most loved."

"Oh, crap." He couldn't have said anything more perfectly heartbreaking. Or wonderful. More bawling ensued. He pulled me into his arms and held me while I wept. If I had any vanity left, I'd have been mortified. He brushed his lips over my hair. "Are you going to do this every time I say I love you?"

"Not after the millionth time or so," I said with a sniffle. "Best get crackin."

"I suppose I can live with that." His lips brushed mine in a soft caress before taking full possession of my mouth. I surrendered my soul. Everything I was belonged to him.

All of my unanswered questions fluttered away, unimportant. I didn't care what made him want to stay so long as he didn't want to leave. I laced my arms around his neck, pulling us flush, and shuddered as my soft flesh met his hard, unforgiving body.

He cupped my bottom and lifted me to meet his erection. I sucked in a gasp and wrapped my legs around his waist, eliciting a low growl of satisfaction from him and settling a fresh wave of heat between my thighs.

Threading my fingers through his hair, I tilted his head and licked the soft skin at the base his neck. The taste of his skin, hot and full of life against my tongue, made me dizzy with want.

He hissed, thrusting his hips against me and I bowed into him with a whimper, each push coiling the pressure tighter.

My fingers found the hem of his shirt and slipped underneath, gliding over the ridged lines of his stomach. His muscles bunched at the feathery touch and I wanted to follow suit with my tongue.

"Who do I have to kill to get you outta these clothes?"

He chuckled and then bit back a curse as I lightly raked my nails over his nipples. He shook his head with an indecipherable murmur. I sensed his struggle to leash the power within him. "Slow down, Joey. I don't want to hurt you."

Slow down? Every nerve ending I owned begged for his brand of hurt. He was stronger, bigger, and built for war and yet, I knew he wouldn't hurt me.

"Forget that," I said, sliding down his body. I hooked a foot around his ankle and pushed him to the floor. He landed with an ungraceful oomph.

I cocked my hip and gave him a scorching once over. "Now, let's start with the shirt and go from—"

A sudden chill swept over me. I glanced down, let out a strangled gasp, and crossed my arms over my bare chest. "Not mine!"

Eyes lighting with a predatory gleam, he tucked his hands behind his head, his lips creeping up. "I must have misunderstood. Did you mean your pants?"

They disappeared along with my panties. I didn't know which half to cover—top or bottom. I glanced about for something to cover myself, but naturally, there was nothing handy, leaving me to stand naked and vulnerable before my fully clothed angel.

Propping himself up on his elbows, he took a languid stroll over my bared flesh and commanded, "Drop your hands."

I hesitated, insecurities begging my hands to stay put. He was an angel, God's crowning glory down to the last cell. That sort of perfection put a kink in my flawed human confidence.

Though I'd been fit and curvy in all the right places a month ago, I was now jutting angles under a bruised tarp. I feared dropping my hands only to see disappointment in his eyes.

"Now," he rumbled, just short of a bark.

I squared my shoulders, swallowed my pride and dropped my hands.

A muscle twitched in his jaw. "Come here."

Breath fluttered in my lungs like a thousand trapped butterflies. I shook my head, barely resisting the urge to cover myself again.

"If I must collect you, I'll show no mercy."

Wet heat flooded the juncture at my thighs. I licked my lips, gave a shrug. "Mercy is overrated..."

I was a careless bunny, wagging her fluffy tail at the dark and dangerous wolf.

Shifting to his feet, he tensed before me, blazing with primal, possessive hunger. He curled his fingers in my hair, tilting my head back. "You don't know what you're playing with, my little mortal."

"Show me," I taunted on a whisper.

He met the challenge, starting at my mouth, and devouring a hot trail down my neck. His arm circled my waist, bending me backward, thrusting my breasts into his face. His tongue flicked over my nipple before taking it into his mouth.

I gasped, the heat of his lips igniting a trail straight to my core. My legs threatened to buckle. My nails dug into the meat of his biceps. "I can't...breathe."

His teeth grazed my sensitive flesh before releasing it and my eyes rolled shut with a sob.

"Breathing is overrated," he said, pressing me down onto the carpet and settling over me. He flexed his hips, brushing the fly of his jeans against my damp curls.

My spine arched into him as pleasure ripped a moan from my lips. Hands trembling, I grasped the hem of his T-shirt. "Disappear the clothes right now."

"Bossy." He chuckled, before reaching over his shoulder and tugging off the shirt. His muscles rippled as he tossed the fabric aside. He watched my gaze devour every delicious inch of his bared skin.

"You're so beautiful," I murmured, my touch sliding over his stomach. His muscles jumped when I slid a hand past the waistband of his jeans, flicking open the button and yanking on the zipper. He gripped my wrist.

"You're not ready."

"Honey, if I were any more revved up, I'd be a damn racecar." I eased my hand free of his grip, and holding his gaze, slipped it in his pants. My fingers curled around his thick, hot length.

His eyes rolled shut. "Ah...shit." The tendons in his neck bulged, his shoulders fraught with tension. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"If you don't give me what I want, I just might." I squeezed his cock.

He gritted his teeth and sucked in a hissing breath. "Oh I'm going to take you. Fast and hard. Soft and slow. And every way in between. And you'll come screaming my name." He thrust his hips, pushing the length of him through my curled fingers. Then he pulled my hand from his pants. "But first, I'm going to taste every inch of you."

Goosebumps broke out over my flesh while my insides melted into a quivering pool.

He captured my bottom lip between his teeth, gently biting then soothing with his tongue.

His hand skimmed a scorching path down my belly to the curls below, and plunged a finger into my aching flesh. My back bowed, pushing his fingers deeper. His thumb stroked my clit.

"You're already wet for me." He drank the cries from my lips as he worked my body into a frenzy. Ursus trailed kisses down my belly until he knelt between my thighs. He pushed them wide, lowering his head to flick his tongue over me.

I couldn't have stemmed my scream if I'd been unconscious. Or dead.

"You like that?" He asked with the confidence of a man knowing full well he pleased his lover.

My head thrashed side to side as the tension spiraled, dragging me closer to the edge. "No. I hate it. Do it again."

"You sure?" he teased. "I'd hate to displease you."

Rocking against his fingers in a desperate attempt to get them moving again, I snarled, "Don't make me beg." Too bad it came out a whimper. "Please, Ursus." My flesh burned with a fire only he could put out. My legs trembled. I curled my fingers into the carpet.

He lowered his dark head, eagerly stroking and licking, working me with his tongue and fingers, magnifying the pleasure until I came against his mouth.

He growled a raw, guttural sound I barely recognized. Before my body could come down off its high, he rose, pushing his jeans down his lean hips, and kicked out of the denim. Clasping my thighs in an iron grip, he entered me with a slow torturous thrust of his hips.

"More!" Arching against him, I gripped his ass and lifted my hips, urging him deeper. My nails dug into his tight cheeks and his hips bucked, thrusting him fully inside me. He bit out a strangled moan.

"My angel likes that?" I whispered at his ear, pulling my knees up, clenching him from the inside.

His short, clipped breaths tickled my cheek. My arms banded around his neck as I rocked into each pump of his hips, reveling in the way his flesh rubbed against mine.

Still, he measured every stroke with restraint. I saw it in the clench of his jaw, the way his arms trembled with the effort to take it slow.

"Don't hold back." I palmed his cheek, bringing his gaze to mine. Desire flickered in his eyes, a living flame, thrashing against his control, tormenting him. "Love me fully, Ursus."

"I do." His voice was rough and patchy. "Heaven help me, I do."

"Then show me." I pleaded, making it clear how much I needed all of him.

He shook his head with a boisterous curse. "I don't want to hurt you, Joey."

His restraint only heightened my excitement. There was something highly erotic in the thought of my buttoned-down angel losing control. I wanted it, embraced it.

"I'm hurting now. Take me. Make me yours."

He flipped us over with a smooth, graceful roll and clutched my thighs, holding me captive as his body surged to meet mine, seating him to the hilt. Joyous torment roared through me, spinning higher, winding tighter with each delicious thrust. My fingers clenched into the muscles of his shoulders as I rocked my hips, begging for more.

His intense gaze drank in my bliss as I moved over him. I reveled in the way he watched with half-lidded eyes, tense beneath me, a dark and dangerous beast brought to heel by my touch. I sensed he craved my release more than his own.

Relishing my power, I came apart, screaming his name as I contracted around him. A beat later Ursus threw his head back, a roar ripping free of his lungs, and followed me over the edge.

# Epilogue

"I could stay here the rest of my life," I mumbled, relaxed and satisfied.

Ursus curled his arm around my shoulder and tucked me tightly against his side. "No. I give it another five minutes before you demand something to eat."

"I never demand. I suggest."

"Hmmm," was his complete agreement.

I snuggled closer and swung my leg over his. "Since you brought it up...I could totally go for a breakfast buffet right about now."

His laugh rumbled under my ear.

"Oh, I missed the show?" A familiar voice broke through his laughter. "Always a day late and a credit card short."

My head jerked up as if on a string. Devi stood, hands on hips and smiling, decked out head to toe in a shiny, black, leather-like getup. Vibrant pink braids hung down her back.

"Devi!" Ursus roared as he shifted a blanket over us. "Get out!"

"Oh, I can't do that," she chirped. Wicked glee danced in her eyes. "Lots of rules to discuss and implement."

Rules? I couldn't get past the dominatrix garb, the fluorescent hair, or her mile-high stilettos. I whistled long and low. "You got a hot date, Devi?"

"Not as hot as yours."

Heat flooded my cheeks. I cleared my throat and pulled the blanket up to my neck.

"What rules?" Ursus asked with a harsh edge.

"Just a few little ones, really. Like if you give her your blood, she won't live to regret it."

My brain froze. I must've heard wrong. I pushed into a sitting position and dared eye contact with the crackpot angel. "Give me his blood? Like _drink it?"_

The "she won't live to regret it," remark didn't horrify me nearly as much as the thought of sipping from my angel.

She tilted her head to Ursus. "You've not explained the blood bond?"

"Didn't come up."

Her gaze flicked down the blanket. "Well, not first in line, anyway."

He flung the blanket off, tensing to do some kind of regrettable act. Tossing the blanket back over his lap, I placed a hand on his leg and shot him a quelling look. He muttered something with a jerk of his head.

Giving Devi my full attention, I said, "Not that I don't love this verbal ping-pong, but why would I take his blood?"

She cocked a hip and crossed her arms, considering me. "Immortality, of course." She might as well have tacked, "idiot," on the end.

"Are you nuts?" I knew the answer was a resounding yes. "Do I look like a vampire to you?"

Devi snorted. "Your romanticized version of vampires isn't anywhere near the reality of them. The myth originates with angels giving mortals their blood to keep them from death. It was this taking of creation out of God's hands that cast them from Heaven."

"Are you telling me that one, vampires are real, and two, angels are vampires?" I let out a breathy chuckle and wagged my finger. She'd almost had me.

Devi tsked. "No, girl. Just that mortal's idealized infatuation with vampires stems from angels. Vampires are a much nastier lot than you humans know. And much harder to kill."

My smirk slid away as I searched for her usual frisky humor. Not a hint in sight. She was either dead serious or flat-ass crazy. Unfortunately, I could flip a coin and come up right either way.

Clutching the blanket as if it were a talisman, I turned a pleading look on Ursus. "Vampires are real?"

He sighed heavily and nodded.

I swallowed a hysterical giggle and massaged my temples. Sweet nuts, vampires existed. How was I supposed to wrap my brain around that? Were vampires a form of demon or a separate monster altogether? I could lose my sanity wondering this stuff.

"We're gonna let that fester for a while, okay? We'll revisit it when I'm on psych meds. As for him, "I hitched a thumb at Ursus, "I'm not willing to latch on and suck a sip, so no worries there."

Devi crouched down, bringing our gazes level. "I'm not worried about you," she said with a smile, and then turned her narrowed focus on Ursus. "My caution is for the angel who defied a warning from me, and a direct order from his prince not to follow you. And almost destroyed an entire prophecy in the process."

I went all warm and fuzzy at him defying her and Michael. Not because I wanted him telling other angels to stuff it, but because he did it for me. Nothing inflates the ego like being top pick on your angel's list. Not to mention, if he hadn't defied them, I'd be roasting over an open hell-flame right now.

Devi canted forward. "Will you listen when I say things have to happen the way they have to happen? If you defy this order, no amount of sacrifice will fix it."

He pivoted towards me with a mixture of challenge and question in his eyes. Was he asking my permission to obey her or rebel?

"I'm sorry, baby, but I'm not meant to live forever." Death brought new life to my kind, and cheating it robbed our souls of the very thing we were created for.

Sadness flickered in his irises, breaking my heart, but he skimmed his knuckles down my cheek. "I understand."

Devi snapped her fingers. "Can I trust you to behave?" Calculation swirled around her. I suspected she had knowledge we didn't—duh—but I didn't care. The present held its own worries. No reason to go looking for more.

"Yes," he agreed with little enthusiasm.

"Fabulous," she said and pushed to her feet. "Now that the doom and gloom is out of the way, let's move on to the fun, shall we?" Her idea of fun shriveled my organs, sending them scampering for a place to hide. The last time I'd experienced her brand of good times, I'd come away scarred for life.

She donned a Looney Tunes smile and bobbed her head. I didn't know if she was nodding to encourage agreement or if music blared between her ears. "You agreed to stand with Heaven, Joey. Your choice, made of your own free will."

"Uh, yeah." I stared straight ahead, wishing I'd gotten around to telling Ursus before she'd blurted it out like an auctioneer.

"The two of you take your orders from Gabriel for now. Some assignments you may work in tandem. Others, you will perform separately."

My hand shot up and both angels gave me a perplexed look. I dropped my arm. "I thought I took orders from Michael." Devi had been very particular about that, making it clear I served under the Archangel.

"Michael is...on sabbatical for the next twenty years." She wiggled her fingers. "Give or take a year or two."

"What?" Ursus whipped around. "Angels don't take vacation time."

"Says the angel who refused an assignment for five hundred years."

"That's different, and you know it."

I patted his leg, but it seemed that only worked with dogs because he didn't calm.

She waved him off. "There's more than one prophecy in play, Ursus. Forget Michael's whereabouts and focus." She pointed to me. "You're gonna need a safe place and direct access to your commander. So my chocolate honey bunny will weave your house into Heaven's barriers and create a threshold so you can come and go as you please."

I blinked. "Chocolate honey bunny?" Why her Easter candy grabbed my attention over a portal to another realm, I couldn't say.

Devi snapped her fingers and Abisai appeared beside her. She flung one arm over his shoulder and rubbed his chest. "Isn't he adorable?"

Abisai greeted me with a dry, "Mortal."

I sucked my front teeth, contemplating the buoyant Devi and her acidic giant. Adorable. "Absolutely. Like a razorback," I said, shuddering inwardly at the pairing. "Demons I can handle. Blood-sucking angels, wiggy. But you two?" I pointed between Devi and Abisai. "Far exceeds my ability to cope."

Devi clapped her hands and, spinning to her chocolate honey bunny, declared, "I like her."

The giant heaved a weighty sigh. "I know." He agitated his head as if he couldn't fathom the idea. "So, human, pick a door. Preferably not one to the can."

"Excuse me?" I didn't understand his statement well enough to know if I should take offense. I bristled anyway.

"I need to create a threshold. Pick a door you want to open into Heaven."

"Oh. Ummm, there's a coat closet right there." I pointed down the hall, and he stomped off to do his...weaving.

"Well, then," Devi said, rubbing her hands together like a giddy, psycho schoolgirl. I had to wonder what hellish scenario put that twinkle in her eye. My stomach knotted.

Before she announced whatever was on her mind, she jerked as if she'd licked a bug zapper, eyes flashing white.

"What is it?" Ursus pulled to attention, analyzing her and the space around us for a threat.

She circled, taking him in with sightless eyes. "He's been shot."

I lifted a brow at Ursus. He frowned with a shake of his head. "Who's been shot, Devi?"

In an eerie, hollow voice, she said, "Ryder."

"Who's rider?"The words died on the tip of my tongue when she morphed into an effing bird and flew through the living room window. Not into the window— _through_ the glass, as if she was nothing more than a shadow.

"Okay. A bird. Why not?"

Ursus chuckled, running his thumb over the soft spot under my ear. "It's just another form she takes on Earth."

My shoulders curled up at the light tickle. "Right. I guess it's better than an alligator, huh?"

"I don't know. I can see her as an alligator."

_Me too._

Abisai stomped from the hallway, subtle as an earthquake to give me a pointed scowl. "You're all set. Don't open the door unless you want to go to Heaven."

"Thank you."

He frowned, then grunted. "Where's Devi?"

"She turned into a bird and flew out the window." I even said it with a straight face.

He straightened to his impressive full height. "Already?"

"What's going on, Sai?" Ursus asked.

The giant hesitated, rubbing a thick mitt over his bald head. "Even I'm not privy to all Devi's visions. All I know is it's something big. There are a handful of mortals that must survive if we're to win."

I sighed, knowing full well I'd regret the question. "Win what?"

"The final battle. You're the first." He glanced out the front window. "I assume she's gone to see about the second."

Yep. Should've kept my mouth shut. How was it possible in twenty-eight years I still hadn't learned to do that?

"And by final battle, you mean Armageddon?" My hand searched out Ursus' and squeezed. His fingers tightened in return and I felt somewhat better.

"Possibly," Abisai muttered with a shrug. "No one knows for certain."

"Well, should we go help her?" If we needed specific people to fry the bitch below, I wanted to make damn sure Devi saved each and every one.

"What are you going to do? Track down every dove in the sky? Even I don't know who she's gone after." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Enjoy your demon-free zone."

He shifted without another word.

"He's always such a joy," I muttered, tipping my chin to the closet door. "I guess it's official. I'm on your payroll."

"Would you like to enter?" His quiet words blasted my ears.

Did I?

A part of me wanted to jerk open that door and explore every square inch of the place. Assuming I had access, I had a sneaking suspicion my admittance was limited. The other half of me never wanted to cross the threshold ever again.

"Nah. I have a feeling I'll use the portal soon enough." I turned my attention to our twined fingers. Rubbing my thumb across his, I asked, "Are you angry?"

He tilted my head up. "Because you gave up mortal freedom to restore my life, or that you won't take my blood to stay by my side?"

As far as loaded questions went, his was a doozy. I tried to draw back my hand. He held firm. My teeth snagged my bottom lip. "Both, I guess."

For a long moment he remained silent. My heart thudded with each passing second. He cupped my neck, drawing me to him. "No. I'm honored you love me enough to sacrifice so much. There is no other place I'd rather be. As to you not wanting my blood," he shrugged. "I'll follow you into the Afterlife. Wherever you go, I go."

My eyes widened. "You'd follow me? Can you even do that?" Damn did I love this angel. When I'd expected hurt and resentment to come between us, he drew us closer with understanding and compromise.

"Hell, I have to. You drive me nuts, but I'm lost without you."

Squealing—in a very ladylike manner—I threw my arms around his neck and peppered his face with kisses. "Here's to a lifetime of driving you crazy!"

He pulled me into his arms for a more thorough kiss. "Hear, hear, pretiosa."

# Untitled

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# Angel Unleashed

### Prologue

"Damn, man. You sure this is the place?" Detective Jacob Ryder nodded to the decaying brick building, and then tossed a skeptical look at his partner.

Ronnie read the slip of paper in his hand and shrugged. "This is the address Bones gave me."

"Your tip came from Bones?" Jake shook his head. Charles T. Howell, Jr., a.k.a. Bones, turned snitch about six months ago after he was arrested with a sizeable amount of crack stuffed in his denims. Being a pretty, skinny white boy, Bones readily agreed to rat out his cronies—anything to keep his scrawny ass out of prison. But he gave good info just enough to keep his nark status active.

Jake doubted every word from Bones' mouth, but the lowlife was their only lead in the death of another suspected drug dealer, so he and Ronnie had to investigate the kid's claim.

A chill settled into Jake's bones as he stared into the hollow, blackened windows of the abandoned warehouse. No one with a full social calendar came to this end of town.

Jake huddled deeper into his coat as a bitter Carolina wind kicked up. "Who does Bones say we're looking for?"

Ronnie took a final puff on his cigarette and tossed it to the sidewalk. "Some dick that goes by the name of Slice."

Laughter barked from Jake's mouth as he turned to his partner. "You're kidding, right? The victim was carved up like a Christmas ham by a guy called slice?" He shook his head at the irony. Identifying the remains was nearly impossible as the killer took the face, genitals and several organs with him. They knew the deceased was a white male, early to mid twenties and HIV positive. All of which the medical examiner determined during the autopsy.

The wiry detective slid the toe of his boots over the cigarette butt. Chuckling, he slapped Jake on the back, and started for the building. "Afraid not, bro. Probably a waste of time, but you gotta work with the tools in your drawer."

Jake snorted, following Ronnie's lead. To call Bones a tool was like calling a rattler a pet. In a technical sense the definition fit, but like their informant, one didn't want to take the snake out of its cage and play with it.

They stalked up the garbage-littered alley to the back of the building. Jake sidestepped what he thought was an empty box until the stench rising from under the flaps made him recoil and gag.

"You wanna check that out?" Ronnie stopped ahead of him, brows ratcheting.

Jake raised his gaze. "Someone's toilet? Naw, man, feel free." He stepped cardboard, shaking his head in disgust. "Shit. I'm going to need a flea bath after this," he muttered, continuing on to the back of the warehouse.

"Hell, you could use one now."

Jake shot him a sour look. A grin crinkled Ronnie's blue eyes. They fell into a familiar rhythm as they approached a heavy metal door swaying on busted hinges. Like second nature, they walked without a sound, sidling up to the entrance in silence.

Jake took point by the door, waiting for Ronnie to signal he was ready. The smaller man pulled out his department issued Smith and Wesson M&P .45 and nodded. Jake, gripping his own weapon, peered around the entry's frame, his gaze skimming the barren room.

Shadows.

Silence.

The hairs on his neck jumped to attention. His heart pounded in his chest. He gripped the .45 tighter, sweeping it over every inch of blackness.

_Do not enter._

"Ryder, we gonna do this or what?"

Ronnie's voice cut through the one in his head, the one telling him to retreat. To run as far and as fast as he could. Jake didn't believe in the unseen. No metaphysical or otherworldly bullshit for him. Still, he couldn't deny the certainty ringing in his head. If he walked into this building, he wouldn't walk out.

"Hey man, you want me to take point?" Ronnie whispered, irritation lacing his words.

Jake shook his head, shutting down his doubts. They'd done this a thousand times over. Nothing to it but to do it.

Pressing his back against the door, Jake slid around the frame. Its rusted hinges screeched. He bit down on a curse and took another sweep of the warehouse. Nothing moved.

The varying black and gray shadows drowned out the murky November daylight. Nothing moved.

"I don't suppose you thought to grab your flashlight?" Jake glanced over his shoulder.

"In broad daylight?" Ronnie's tone spoke volumes. He wanted in that building. Yesterday. "Go get your damn light, man. I got this. I'll see you inside."

Even his partner's aggravation couldn't silence the warning bells in his head, not when they were blaring at full volume on channel, "Get the fuck out!"

He had an urge to run back to the car under the guise of grabbing his flashlight, and peel rubber. The sudden fears and need to flee pissed him off. If he couldn't search a damn building with a man at his back, then he needed to turn in his badge.

And his balls.

As soon as he entered the warehouse his eyes watered at the strong odor of feces and urine, but he pushed forward to secure a position against the wall. A rat scurried to his right and Jake tracked the its progress with his gun, muttering expletives at the rodent.

Ronnie slipped through the door behind him, pressing his back to the opposite wall. With a nod from Jake, they set out to systematically search the building only to come up empty an hour later.

The two detectives stomped down the back stairs to clear the main floor one final time before putting the warehouse in their rearview mirror.

Ronnie made the bottom first, then turned. "Damn. I wanted to shoot someone today." He kicked a chip of brick and watched it skip across the floor.

Coming off the last step, Jake snorted and slapped Ronnie on the back. "Day isn't over yet. You might still get lucky."

"You know, I think you're right."

Ronnie lifted his gun and leveled the muzzle on Jake's chest. Jake stared at the barrel uncomprehendingly, and then lifted his gaze to his partner of three years. Ronnie's lips curled a moment before he pulled the trigger.

The blast threw Jake off his feet and he hit the cement floor with a bone-jarring thud, his head bouncing off the stone. Jake gasped for air though his body disobeyed every command to breathe.

Ronnie nudged him with the toe of his boot. "Didn't see that one coming did you?"

"What...the fuck?" He tried to spit out the copper taste filling his mouth and choked on the blood.

"Because I can." Ronnie hunched down next to Jake and waved the pistol in his face. "See, my kind doesn't like your kind." He laughed with a shake of his head. "But you don't know the difference, do you?"

He pushed to his feet, taking aim at Jake's head. Jake stared into eyes he no longer recognized. Eyes that resembled Ronnie's, but with someone else manning the helm. How had he not seen this side of his partner?

A bang from the next room startled them both and Ronnie spun, gun waving wildly in the air.

_Sweet Jesus, don't let anyone else start firing_.

The bullets would rebound off the walls. Not that it mattered since Jake was already as good as dead. But somehow death by mistake grated worse than an all out assassination.

Ronnie cast a suspicious glance over his shoulder and stalked from the room.

Hand trembling, Jake fumbled for the panic button on his radio. It took several attempts to push the right tab. He turned off the volume. The last thing he needed was for Ronnie to hear dispatch calling back on an open line, demanding a response. His hand crept past the radio to his holster. He moved slowly, fearing the click of his release would boom in the quiet.

Knowing officers would arrive soon, he let his hand fall away. Too late for him, but maybe in time to arrest the son of a bitch that killed him.

He listened to Ronnie's boots scuff over the cement floor. His partner shrieked and several shots rang through the air.

What the hell was Ronnie shooting at? Rats?

"Stupid bird!" Footsteps crunched in the hall, moving closer until Ronnie filled the doorway. "Damn bird, dove straight at my head." Ronnie jumped again as if something had spooked him. After a twitchy survey of the room, he said, "Well, time's up, partner."

Jake didn't ask why. It didn't matter. Nor did he try to stall. He knew one or neither of them would walk out of this building. He preferred neither.

Mustering his last ounce of his energy, Jake raised his gun before his son-of-a-bitch partner could do the same. Ronnie's eyes widened an instant before Jake's bullet penetrated his frontal bone and blew out the back of his skull.

Ronnie's body jerked before crumpling and slamming to the floor with a loud thwack. Jake dropped his weapon and stared at his partner's unmoving body.

What the hell had just happened? Jake couldn't make sense of it. Too much blood loss or the incomprehensible situation clouded his thoughts. All Jake knew for certain was that he'd killed his partner, widowed a good woman, and left their two kids fatherless. That he had no choice didn't lessen the heaviness in his chest.

Jake spent holidays with Ronnie and his family for God's sake. And he'd taught their boys how to jet ski one summer his family's lake house. How was he going to tell Janna he'd put a bullet in her husband?

His stomach lurched and Jake forced the bile down his throat. He might very well die here, but not from choking to death on his own puke, damn it.

Rustling sounded in the hall and he lolled onto his side with a hiss, ignoring his body's protests and the fresh flow of blood. Christ, it'd be just his luck Bones was hiding around the corner, waiting to finish him off. He took aim at the doorway.

A white bird—a dove?—fluttered into the room.

Jake let out a shaky breath and flopped to his back. "Why couldn't you be an EMT?"

Speaking of which, he fumbled at the volume control on his radio. His numb fingers couldn't turn the small dial. Shit. He really was going to die.

At least he wouldn't die alone. "I've got a fucking bird to keep me company."

His laughed sounded as if it came from a madman and caused him to cough up more blood.

Rather than fly off at his hacking, the bird hopped several feet closer and regarded him with curious black eyes. Jake wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "Don't peck my eyes out until I'm dead. Deal?"

The bird tilted its head and blinked.

Jake sighed. Darkness beckoned him to sink into oblivion and let death carry him off. But as soon as his eyes drifted shut, feathers ruffled.

He cracked open an eye, prepared to shoo the bird away so he could die in peace.

A woman with a shocking crop of blue hair kneeled beside him. He jerked, startled to see a human, much less a naked one. Vivid green eyes stared back at him through thick, dark lashes.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Not even close."

His detail-oriented mind examined the girl—she couldn't be more than early twenties. Aside from the florescent hair, she was quite lovely. Jutting cheekbones gave her narrow face character and definition. His gaze slid to her mouth.

"Who are you? How did you get in here? This is not a safe part of town, young lady." The harsh words cost him, sucking blood into his lungs. He turned his head away just before coughing up more crimson.

"I flew."

He blinked. "What?"

"You asked how I got here. I flew."

"You flew. Of course you did." And he was losing his mind. Of course he was. He'd lost too much blood. His thoughts were sluggish and cloudy at best. So what if his mind had put together a sexy fantasy to ease his way? "I'm hallucinating," he said with a disgusted sigh.

"Okay." She wrapped her arms around her folded legs and rested her chin on her knees. Her green eyes radiated mischief.

He studied her through half-lidded eyes. The urge to take her hand overwhelmed him. He didn't want to die alone on a cold slab. A beautiful figment of his imagination was better than nothing. But he refused to allow himself even that small bit of comfort. Self defense or not, he'd just blown out the back of his friend's head.

He shut down the memory and focused on the girl. "Did you take the bird's wings?"

An illogical question for an illusion brought on by a compromised, dying mind. He knew it. And he didn't care because he was dying and he'd ask any damn thing that made sense to him.

Large white wings fanned out behind her. The vibrant feathers rustled when she laughed at his gaping mouth. She twisted, giving him full view of the downy fluff on her back.

His flesh broke out in goose bumps. "Are you death?"

He should be scared. Terrified. But death looked damn tempting from where he lay.

Banging sounded from the alley just before officers poured into the warehouse, guns drawn. Voices and the stampede of boots echoed off the hollow walls. Radios squawked as someone called for an ambulance.

The bustle of voices and the stampede of boots registered at the edge of his mind, but Jake's attention narrowed to the feel of her fingers brushing over his forehead.

"I am Peace," she said. "Rest now, soldier."

His world went black.

# Untitled

This novel is dedicated with love to my mom who threatened to slap the taste out of my mouth if I let something so small as rejection sully my dream. And my dad—you supported the idea even if you didn't understand it.

I love you both.

To my amazing husband who prays nightly he's never asked if he is the inspiration for my love scenes, I simply adore you.

Don't worry, darling, I'll never tell **.**

# Acknowledgments

This novel would still be sitting in a drawer if not for my amazing critique partners, Lilly Gayle and Marquita Valentine. Ladies, you're opinions, time, and talent are invaluable, and I couldn't have done this without you. Big thanks to my beta readers, Megan Brandon, Flo Bear, Jo Lawson, Sara Dirham, and Olivia Kelly, who gave this book many a read-through without complaint. I'd have slapped me ten times over by now.

To my very dear family and friends. How you put up with my surly moods and waspish tongue when my characters didn't cooperate is beyond me. I'm certain you'll be nominated for sainthood.

A much deserved thank you to my Mistress of Edits, Kalie Ruddle, for pushing to meet my time constraints. And a very big hats off to D.M. Lawson for brainstorming this fabulous title in two seconds. I love it.

And finally, my readers. Every time a reader takes a chance on a new writer, a fairy gets her wings. Or a leopard, a new spot. However you want look at it. You are a joy beyond compare and I cherish every one of you. Thank you.

Please report any errors found in this book to www.andrisbear.com

*DISCLAIMER*

Though this book contains references to angels and demons, it is in no way biblically accurate. It is a work of fiction that contains strong language and sex.

# Also by Andris Bear

Paranormal Romance

Angel Redeemed

Angel Unleashed

Hexed

Demon Undamned

Deadly Sins box set

All Wicked's Eve

Angel Unclaimed

* * *

Romantic Suspense

Lovers Lane

Memory Lane

Dead End Lane

Lane Chronicles box set
