Another time, another place.
But Death was there.
Seline saw Sammael leap from the sky. His wings, strong, black, so powerful, thrust behind him. The men were staring with wide eyes, looking all around.
But they couldn’t see him. Not yet.
Then he touched the first man.
The man with the red hair screamed, and the sound chilled Seline’s blood. She’d never heard a cry filled with such terror. The redhead fell to the ground, his body frozen, his face twisted in agony. He was the first, but not the last. Far, far from the last.
Soon the men could see Sam. Seline didn’t understand how or why, but they were staring at him. Pointing. Screaming.
He . . . laughed?
More men fell. He cut right through them. Killed, touched, until none were left living.
When the dead littered the ground at his feet, Sammael tilted back his head, stared up at the heavens, and smiled.
More.
“Seline!” Sam’s roar jerked her back to the present just as he pulled her away from Azrael. She realized that only a moment had passed, barely a second.
It had felt like an eternity.
Sammael put his body between her and Az. “What the f**k did you do?”
“Relax,” Az said, voice tight. “She’s completely unharmed. You know the touch doesn’t work on those with angel blood. Most of the demons who run on this earth have blood so diluted, it doesn’t matter, but she’s . . . fresh.”
Her hands were shaking. Seline stared at Sam’s back and saw the shadow of his wings.
And when he fired a fast glance over his shoulder, she saw his rage. Seline rose to her toes, craning to see over his strong back.
“I just wanted her to see exactly who you are,” Az said as he crossed his arms over his chest. “She thinks that she wants you? Well, she needs to know just what it is that she wants.”
Azrael’s voice grated in her ears.
Sam must have thought the guy’s voice grated, too, because he slammed his fist into Azrael’s face to shut him up. “Don’t f**king touch her!”
“Why?” Az hadn’t moved. Blood streamed from his nose. “Because you didn’t want her to know just what you were? Didn’t want her to see how much you enjoy a kill?”
In a flash, Az was beside her. “Those men weren’t marked for death. He decided to kill them, and he did.”
Sam growled. No other word for it. He growled. “They had murdered a village. Slaughtered the children. Raped the women, then killed them when they were done. And you wanted—what? For me to turn the other cheek? Hell, no. Death for death. Eye for—” He broke off, seeming to finally realize just what Az had said before. “See?” he repeated quietly, and his gaze found Seline’s. “He . . . showed you?”
Not just rage in his voice now. Fear.
She lifted her hand toward him. The slight edge of cruelty was still on his face. It would probably always be there, in the curl of his lip and the hardness of his eyes. But he was more than cruelty and rage. So much more. Why hadn’t she seen that in the beginning?
“Can you really trust him?” Azrael murmured, like the devil whispering in her ear. “Don’t you want to leave him? Now’s your chance, succubus, run. I’ll hold him back. Get your freedom.”
Sam flinched.
Very, very slowly, Seline turned her head to meet Az’s stare. “I trust him with my life. And you can just go and f**k off.”
The ceiling trembled above them. Cracks raced across the sagging tiles.
“You should have run when you had the chance,” Az told her with what looked to be a sad shake of his head. “Now we’ll all—”
The ceiling caved in—no, fell in because Rogziel had just blasted his way through as he hurtled toward them.
“Hell’s waiting,” Rogziel called out, raising his bloody hands, and lightning flew across the room. One bolt slammed into Azrael’s chest. Another hit Sam’s back. The scent of burned flesh filled Seline’s nostrils.
Burned flesh . . . and brimstone.
The hound’s teeth were at his throat. Tomas shoved up, but he choked on his own blood. The witch was thrusting a knife into the beast’s side, but the hound wasn’t letting up.
They’d run. Used as many spells as they could, but every time they appeared, the hellhound was right on their asses.
Can’t outrun a hound. Not once the beast gets your scent. The hound would only stop by a master’s command—or when it brought down its prey.
Tomas was down. No matter how hard he fought, he couldn’t get up.
The thudding of Tomas’s heartbeat began to slow. The sunlight dimmed. This was it.
He’d Fallen and now he’d die.
He could still hear Sierra’s screams. She’d never know—
The hound’s breath blew over his face, but then, the hound stiffened. The beast lifted its big, ugly head and howled.
The mournful wail shook Tomas’s bones.
The hound licked his throat, drinking away the blood that poured from Tomas’s gaping wounds. Tomas’s hands clawed at the hound’s eyes.
The hellhound leapt back. Howled again, then turned and raced toward the sun.
Tomas couldn’t feel his legs anymore. Or his hands. And that thudding in his ears, so faint . . .
“Oh, f**k.” Mateo stood over him. “Hold on, angel. You hear me? Your woman is out there. You have to help her. You can’t go any damn place yet.”
Sierra.
His lashes were trying to close.
Mateo chanted. Poured something in his wounds that burned and made him howl like the beast had.
Sierra. “Why . . .” The word came from his torn throat as a whisper. “Leave . . . ?” He couldn’t manage anymore. He wasn’t even sure that Mateo would understand his garbled speech.
“You’re still living . . .” he thought the witch muttered barely, “so only its master’s command would pull it back.” A pause and Tomas understood, even before Mateo said, “The hellhound has new prey.”
Sam rose to his feet, never taking his gaze off Rogziel. “I figured you’d be showing up soon.”
Rogziel’s face flushed dark red and his eyes shone black. “And I knew Tomas would bring you to me.”
“That why you had your pit bull waiting to rip him apart? Death was the guy’s finder’s fee?”
Sam slipped out the small vial Mateo had tossed to him and cradled it in the palm of his hand.
“Don’t worry . . .” Rogziel’s eyes closed for a moment as he inhaled a deep breath. “My pit bull is coming home. The hound will rip you apart, too.”