His stare bored into her and a faint line appeared between his brows.

“I have to make certain you’re the man I think you are.” Because these days, she didn’t trust a thing Rogziel told her. Not after what she’d seen him do on the last case.

Sam wasn’t the first angel she’d met. No, the first angel she could remember was Rogziel. But he wasn’t an Angel of Death like Sam. Instead, Rogziel was on earth to punish. Punishment angels were fueled by wrath.

Only she knew that Rogziel had a twisted idea of what constituted guilt. Sometimes, just having demon blood was enough of a justification for punishment in his mind.

He doesn’t kill quickly. He enjoys the pain too much.

The only time Rogziel ever seemed to feel anything was when he was doling out his justice. Then he smiled.

His smile chilled her to the bone.

Swallowing, Seline lifted her arm and let her fingers trail over Az’s back.

He pulled in a sharp breath at her touch, but he didn’t move. Her fingers skimmed up his flesh and found the thick, rough scars near his shoulder blades.

Her head tilted back, and she looked deeper into his eyes. His pupils flared as she gazed at him. “You fell.” It wasn’t hard to mistake those marks. Once you knew what they were, the scars were an instant indicator. She’d only touched Sam’s scars in the dream-walk, but she’d never forget them. He’d had wings, once upon a time. So had Az.

Once upon a time . . . until the fire came, and he fell to earth. Seline cleared her throat and said, “You fell, and your wings burned away.”

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Not a flicker of recognition filled his gaze. He just looked . . . lost.

“Fell from where?” he asked blankly as he blinked and shook his head.

She pulled away, hurrying back a step. Getting out of touching range. “I’ll get you out of here, but you have to—”

“I woke up in a . . . graveyard. I was on a broken tomb, naked, I was—”

Voices shouted in the hallway. Oh, hell. No more time.

She grabbed the chain on his right wrist and shoved the key into the lock. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” He caught her hand the instant the cuff popped open. Now it was Seline’s turn to freeze. One touch.

But his fingers just smoothed over her skin. “You’re . . .” He broke off and the blue of his eyes seemed to fade a bit. “Danger.”

Oh, yeah, she was dangerous to him, but she wasn’t about to confess to that bit now.

His hold tightened. “Be careful. Evil . . . it’s at the door.”

What? Chill bumps rose on her arms.

Then the scent of smoke reached her, burning her nose, and Seline’s head whipped around. She could see thick, dark smoke sliding beneath the bottom of the containment room’s door.

Smoke and then—the door exploded inward as a ball of flames swept into the room. Seline screamed, and Az laughed.

Laughed.

Her gaze flew back to him, and she saw that he was smiling. Oh, hell. That smile reminded her far too much of Rogziel—it was the same smile he wore right before Rogziel got ready to punish some bastard.

Playing with the big boys . . . Had she really thought Az wouldn’t be as dangerous as Sam?

The fire licked her arm, and she screamed again.

When the scent of smoke drifted to him on the wind, Sam stiffened. Then the armed men ran out of the warehouse, one of the guys carrying an unconscious man over his shoulder. They were running away.

Seline, where the hell are you?

The smoke thickened, and the flames began to crackle. Sam raced for the warehouse. A retreating guard saw him and fumbled for his weapon. “Wait, stop! You can’t—”

Sam flew forward and knocked the guy aside. Sam blasted the warehouse door open with a stray thought and rushed inside. The flames swelled, growing higher and higher. His power pushed out, and he should have been able to instantly quench the fire, but the flames didn’t so much as flicker.

Az. Only another angel could have enough power to stir the fire like this.

Time to find his brother and give him some payback—payback that had been centuries in coming.

Another scream ripped the air. This one echoed with pain.

“Seline!” He rushed after that fading scream, never feeling the touch of fire on his skin as he leapt right through the flames.

And then he saw her. On the ground. Rolling as she tried to put out the fire that burned her flesh. He roared her name and lunged for her.

“Sam . . .” Her hoarse whisper and there were tears—fucking tears—sliding down her cheeks. He held her close against his chest, and, through the flames, his gaze locked on his brother.

Azrael. The second Angel of Death created. One without feelings. One who existed only to kill.

One who’d finally fallen.

The fire rose higher, hotter, and those flames seemed to come right after Seline.

Holding her, cradling her carefully, Sam stepped back.

Az was smiling.

“Bastard!” Sam yelled even as he retreated a few more steps from that fire. The fire wouldn’t hurt him, but Seline was a different story. She was shaking in his arms, and he could feel the waves of her fear.

A manacle dropped from Az’s wrist. Still smiling, Az stepped forward.

“I’m going to kill you,” Sam promised him.

Az’s brows rose. “No . . . you won’t.” Az lifted his hands. The restraints were at his feet, and Sam knew his brother’s power was ready to burst free again. “Not now.” And Az vanished. In less than a second’s time, he simply disappeared.

Holding tight to Seline, Sam sent out a wave of his power and blew out the wall on the right. He ran forward, holding her as tightly as he dared.

The shrill scream of sirens reached his ears. He caught the flash of red lights. A fire truck was racing to the scene, leading a line of police cruisers and an ambulance. Sam hesitated.

“No.” Seline’s rough whisper. “Humans . . . don’t let them see me. They . . . can’t help.”

He risked a glance down at her. The tear tracks were still on her cheeks, and angry red blisters covered her arm.

Az, run . . . run f**king fast. His brother had just earned more pain before his death.

“Please,” she said, holding his stare, “get me out . . . of here.” More tears slid from her eyes.

“You’re hurt. You need—”

“I’m a succubus.” Her eyes closed even as a flash of pain had her face tightening. “Medicine won’t heal me.”

No, not medicine.




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