“I know we have the power to kill,” Sammael told him. “So I killed.” And for the first time, it had felt . . . good. Want more.
“No, you punished.”
Perhaps. But those men had deserved a good punishment. An eye for an eye, and a death for a death.
“There are others who dole out punishment,” Az continued, his bright blue stare seeming to blaze right at Sammael. “Uriel is—”
“I just served them up to Uriel early.” Uriel and the band of punishment angels that served under his wings. Wrath. Destruction. Annihilation.
Oh, how he envied them.
Envy. One of the seven deadly sins. Angels weren’t supposed to sin. Only men could sin and be forgiven. Angels weren’t allowed that luxury.
They can torture, they can kill.
What about me?
“They would have found their way to Uriel’s hands sooner or later,” Sammael said with a dismissive wave. He didn’t back away from his brother. He never would. “I just sped up the process.”
Az shook his head, and his hair brushed his shoulders. “You disobeyed.”
Sammael was tired of pretending. Not perfect. “And I’ll do it again.” He let the grim smile tilt his lips once more. “Humans don’t have the power. We do. I do.” He’d be using his power from now on. Humans would learn they should be afraid.
“That is not the way!”
“It is for me.” He shoved his brother aside. “The rules are changing. The ones who get in my way . . . they will fear, and they will die.” Because he wasn’t going to watch anything, not anymore.
“Brother . . .” Az sighed after him. “Do you know what you’ve done?”
The golden doors wouldn’t open. Sammael grabbed them and pushed as hard as he could, but they wouldn’t budge. The wind was howling again and that painful screech filled his ears.
Angels don’t feel pain. But that wind—the noise hurt.
The wind caught Sammael’s body and carried him into the air. He hung suspended, his wings flapping helplessly and his body straining, as Az slowly walked around him.
“There’s still time,” Az murmured, brows pulling together. “Ask forgiveness, brother. Change your ways and you can—”
Watch for an eternity. Hear the screams and do nothing. See the blood and only know the smell of death.
Sammael kept the smile on his face. “I ask for nothing. From now on, I take.” Lives. Souls. Everything.
Az’s eyes narrowed. “Then you die.”
With those words, he fell. The elaborate room vanished as Sammael plummeted from the sky. Wind whipped around him, biting into his flesh as he fell, faster, faster, and—
Agony ripped through his body. A white-hot fire consumed him, burning . . . ”Az!”
But his brother wasn’t helping him. No one helped him. He fell, and he burned. His wings—always the most sensitive part of his body—burned the longest, the hottest.
He screamed and screamed and seemed to fall forever.
When he hit, he expected death. Az had promised death.
But Sammael wasn’t dead. Broken, bloody, and burned, but not dead.
Not yet.
And that was just the start of the hell to come.
CHAPTER ONE
The devil owed her a favor, and it was time that Seline O’Shaw called in that debt.
“Well, well . . .” Sammael—Sam because he’d long ago dropped the more formal version of his name—raked her with his bright blue stare as she made her way across the crowded New Orleans club and to his side. “Come back for another dance, have you?” His deep voice cut easily through the laughter and whispers that floated in the air.
Dance. Seline’s eyes narrowed. “Not tonight.” No, tonight she was waiting tables at Sunrise and wearing one of those skimpy black dresses that all the waitresses were forced to squeeze into before each shift. Thankfully, she wasn’t scheduled to go onstage again. Too dangerous. She’d only danced twice, and she didn’t plan to hop up there again. Seline risked a quick glance over her shoulder. “I need to talk with you,” she said as her voice dropped.
Sam wasn’t alone. But then, he was the big, bad-ass Other in the city so he usually had company. Not guards exactly. Why would he need guards? If the stories were true, Sam could kill with a touch. The man wasn’t human, not even close.
So, no, the demons weren’t around to guard him, but she knew they were there to pretty much jump when he so much as whispered an order. Demon attack dogs.
“Go ahead,” he invited softly, his voice low and rumbling, “talk.”