Название: Ashes of Angels
Автор: Michele Hauf
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
isbn: 9781408928868
isbn:
“The way you looked at me,” she said. “It was …”
“I know. Do you have a spell against horny angels?”
She smirked and shook her head. “Just the one that traps you between wards I’ve placed in my home. But, Sam …?”
He stepped inside the stairwell and brushed aside the hair from her eyes. It felt like fine silk, too valuable to set a price to. “What is it?”
“If you did have sex with me while you were in that … form …” She winced and flashed a teary gaze at him. “Well, you know, would you try not to hurt me?”
“I will never hurt you. I vow it, because I will not again shift in your presence, demon or no demon.”
And that was all he could give her, because he didn’t know the truth himself.
Would spending more time with Cassandra build on the violent compulsion to attempt her? He must strive to remain true to his word. If he sensed the compulsion coming on, he would sooner take his own life than harm her. Yet who would save the world then?
And beyond the world, all he really wanted was to leave it and get back home.
Chapter 4
“We’ve made contact with a muse and a Fallen,” Bruce said.
“Samandiriel?”
“My men did not get the Fallen’s name, but I would assume so since that is who you recently summoned. They encountered them both on the way to set up the warehouse in Berlin.”
“A Fallen together with a muse? Was he attempting her?”
Bruce winced. Such a heartless euphemism for the vicious act of rape. His man, who had witnessed it all as a lookout on a nearby rooftop, reported to him, but hadn’t interfered because he hadn’t wanted to become ash. Or to lose his heart, which, apparently, one of them had.
“The angel was defending her against my men.”
“That’s to be expected. She is the one woman on this earth who can give him pleasure. Where are they now? In custody?”
“My man is on it.”
Which meant, they’d let them get away and now Bruce was scrambling to pick up their trail.
“The pregnant muse is Ophelia O’Malley,” he said, deciding to change the subject. “She has only been pregnant three months, but my spies say she’s waddling about like a full-term mother.”
“The nephilim’s gestation is rumored to be very short,” Antonio clarified. “As is its growth period. It’s likely the muse will give birth soon. Have you taken her into custody?”
“Working on it. Have my best team in London, where she was last seen. The muse’s sister is escorting her. And that officious Zane. Traitor.” Bruce intended to stake that bastard soon.
“He never did fit in,” Antonio muttered. “You know this is my greatest and only desire, Bruce? To walk in the light.”
“Yes, sir, I’m aware of that.”
Antonio steepled his fingers thoughtfully before him. “I remember my mother used to tell me about the daylight. We lived below even before puberty gave me the blood hunger, so I have never, ever, known what it was like to feel sun on my skin.”
That had to suck, big-time, Bruce thought. Even bloodborn vampires, like Antonio, didn’t come into their vampirism until puberty, which meant they were basically mortal, and could eat and walk in the sun, until the blood hunger changed them completely.
“So many vampires can walk in the sun,” Antonio continued. “Why should I be denied light simply because my bloodline is ancient and revered? Am I damned? Are we not all damned?”
He held up a silver chain, from which dangled a silver coil. It caught the torchlight and flashed brightly. Antonio closed his eyes, as if soaking in sunbeams.
Bruce silently backed from his master’s office. At times like this, when he went all introspective and waxed on about his damnation, it was better to leave him to sulk.
But his determination was renewed. No man should be denied the simple pleasures of life. Even if the sun would probably burn him after a few seconds, Antonio did deserve the pain of it, just once.
Cassandra stepped down the stairs outside her loft in the building stairwell. Metallic flake demon ash sifted over her hands and cheeks as she did. It tingled and felt hot, as if real ash from a flaming fire.
“It’s too pretty for demon remains.”
Sam swiped the back of his hand across his chin. A blue line dashed where a cut had opened his skin. “If you know things about us, then you know the Sinistari were forged from the Fallen.”
“I do. So he was originally an angel who Fell with you?”
“Yes, but he was taken before his feet touched earth and was forged into Sinistari.”
“That’s so sad, that something divine was made—” She stopped before saying evil. Because the truly evil ones were the Fallen. The Sinistari were the good guys.
But how to label Sam? An evil angel bent on destroying his own? That sounded accurate, but when she caught more demon ash on her palm, she couldn’t decide if evil had just vanquished the real good.
And only moments earlier she had stood in his arms because she’d wanted to. She had needed to feel safe. In the arms of her destroyer.
The night could not get any stranger.
It must be close to morning. She should be standing in the shower right now, washing away the day’s simple trials, like stressing over which silver piece to next work on and about leaving her date at the bar. She should not be thinking about running from angels, demons and vampires.
Marcus would be pissed she’d left the Schwarz without him. Or maybe not. He had been talking up the redhead.
“I’m tired.” She sat on the bottom step and toed the metallic demon ash. It glowed bright red and dispersed to talcum fineness, resembling a big pile of dust rather than ash. “Can we put off the vampire hunt until I’ve gotten some sleep?”
“We’ll have to. The Anakim tribe doesn’t walk in sunlight.”
“Just let me stay here and sleep a few hours. You return after you’ve killed all the vampires, Fallen and Sinistari.” She yawned. “Promise I won’t ditch you.”
“I will give you energy.”
“I don’t know how you can do—”
Sam pulled her to stand and clutched her against his chest. He was so solid and there, and yet, not warm. Not cold, СКАЧАТЬ