Sam shoved the witch away from him. “This
he
. . . does he have a name?”
“Too many names.”
“Great,” Seline muttered, dragging her hand through her hair. “We needed the all-seeing Oz, and we got the freaking Riddler.” Why couldn’t the guy just answer a simple question? “Hey, buddy, over here.” She snapped her fingers and pulled Mateo’s attention her way. She was
not
going to look at his torn flesh. “Who did you see coming for Sam? His brother? Rogziel?” Some other supernatural that she needed to start worrying about?
“They all come,” Mateo said, and the strength vanished from his voice. Now he just looked and sounded beaten. “Time for a reckoning.”
Crap. An attack from all sides.
We are so screwed.
Mateo bent and picked up his mirror. “Are we finished?” Sam’s hands fisted, but he nodded.
Mateo’s fingers tightened around the mirror. “Then the debt is paid.”
Whoa, wait, the guy had peeked into the future because he owed Sam? Seline rocked back on her heels, and, helplessly, her gaze darted to Mateo’s wounds. She could smell his blood and see the pain on his face. She asked, because she had to, “What happened to you? How’d you get those marks?”
“When you look into the world of the spirits . . .” The mirror disappeared into a faded black bag hooked near Mateo’s hip. “Those spirits see you, too.”
Creepy. “And they—what? Touch you?” More like claw and bite.
“Yes,” he said flatly.
So he’d willingly let his body be savaged because he owed Sam. Her stare drifted to her silent Fallen. “What kind of debt was that?” Had to be something big. You didn’t agree to use your body as a ghost punching/clawing bag over some piddly deal.
Sam didn’t answer.
Mateo did. “He took the heads of four shifters who wanted to rip all the flesh from my body.” He inclined his head toward Sam. “A few scratches seemed like equal pay to me.” Then he opened the door and walked into the night.
Seline followed and shut the door. Because she didn’t want any more surprises, she pushed the lock into place. It clicked softly.
Seline was silent for a moment. Then two moments, because she really wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say. Finally, when the silence got too thick, she cleared her throat and asked, “Um, you got any more guests coming tonight that I need to know about?” Was anyone else coming by to spread doom and gloom?
His eyes slowly slid to her. “Not tonight.”
She expelled a hard rush of air. “That’s something.” Okay, first order of business . . . shower. Then sleep. Then hopefully no dreams that involved nightmares about fire and blood.
Right, good luck with that one
. Considering the week she was having, Seline was pretty sure that her real life would definitely chase her in her dreams.
She moved to brush by Sam. He blocked her path. “Are you afraid?”
Let’s recap
. She had a psycho Fallen on her trail, one who apparently wasn’t gonna stop chasing her until she was dead. She’d turned her back on Rogziel, and the guy wasn’t exactly the forgiving sort. And, bonus, now it looked like Sam was in danger of serious dismemberment. “Damn straight I am.”
Because she wasn’t sure she’d be surviving the coming week. “It’s not like your witch said he saw us living happily ever after behind some picket fence, Sam.”
A faint furrow appeared between his brows. “You . . . want to live with me?”
Her lips parted. Her words had come out way wrong. “Look, we
need
to be afraid. Both of us. That guy didn’t say that you managed to come away unscathed.”
“But he didn’t say we died, either.”
Um, no. “He also didn’t say we lived.” Had he missed that point?
Sam shrugged.
She snarled and marched around him. “I am too tired for this crap. I’m showering, I’m hitting the bed, and then,” she threw over her shoulder, “when morning comes, we are going to figure how to kick ass . . . and not get our asses kicked.”
She grabbed the bathroom doorknob.
“You don’t have to worry, I won’t let Az hurt you.”
Sure. Easy to say. Right then, she could still taste ash. She slammed the bathroom door shut behind her without replying. The room was a matchbox, but it was better than nothing. She took one step forward and yanked on the shower. The water thundered out—at least that worked well enough. She stripped, climbed into the shower, and as the water fell onto her in hot, rough bursts, she wondered what the hell would happen next.
She dreamed of fire and blood. Of falling, faster, faster, plummeting from the sky as her body burned. No, not her body.
Her wings.
Seline tried to scream, but only a whimper escaped from her lips. Her body trembled, and she fell. The ground was coming up fast beneath her, and she knew she’d slam into that unforgiving surface.
Burning and falling
.
Her eyelids flew open. “No!”
And she wasn’t falling anymore. She was in the lumpy bed at the motel. The sheets were twisted around her legs, and Sam lay sleeping beside her.
She yanked a hand through her tangled hair. She didn’t usually have nightmares, but after the day she’d had, no wonder she’d been dreaming of death.
Sam groaned beside her. Her eyes darted to him. His features were tense, his jaw clenched, and, hold on, was that pain on his face?
He rolled away from her, and with the sunlight streaming through the blinds, she got her first true look at his back.
The thick scars cut right across his shoulder blades. Exactly where wings would have been. No, exactly where they
had
been.
Seline realized what had been happening. The fire and fall hadn’t been her dream. It hadn’t been his, either, not really.
Because it hadn’t been a dream at all.
Memory.
A memory Sam was trapped in right then.
Seline’s hand reached out to trace the thick marks that cut across his left shoulder blade. Her fingertips lightly touched his warm flesh.
She felt the sudden stillness that tightened his body.
She leaned closer to him, and her lips feathered over the raised flesh.
“Seline . . .”
Her name seemed torn from him.
Her breath blew against his skin, and she pressed a series of gentle kisses against the marks. First one scar, then another.
He was so warm beneath her lips. Leashed power, waiting to explode.
Her mouth lingered on his skin, tasting him. He’d endured so much pain . . . to have lost his wings . . . what was worse for an angel? “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She didn’t know why he’d fallen, but he’d obviously born a terrible price for whatever crime he’d committed.
He’d already been punished. Rogziel should leave him alone.
In an instant, Sam rolled toward her. His eyes were solid black. “I don’t need your pity.” And in that deep rumble she heard a mix of anger and . . . lust?
He kissed her then, crushing his lips to hers, and, oh, yes, that was lust she tasted on his tongue. This kiss was different from all the ones that had passed before. Wilder, hotter.
Too late, she remembered one more whisper about angels. . .
the wings are the most sensitive part of their bodies.
Even the scars? Were they—
Sam lifted her over him. One yank, and he tore her panties away. Her knees dug into the mattress on either side of his body even as the broad head of his fully aroused cock pushed at her entrance.
His gaze blazed at her.
Staring right into his eyes, feeling her own arousal heat her blood, Seline pushed down with her hips and took him in as deep as she could.
Not deep enough. His hands clamped on her hips, and he began to move her, harder, faster. Bedsprings broke beneath them. The bed thudded against the wall.
And still he thrust harder.
Power filled the air, that sweet, wild rush of power that she only got from him. Like nothing else . . .
nothing.
She wanted to take and take. To absorb every bit of his sensual energy and lose herself completely with him.
She’d held on to the edge of her control before. In the past, she’d always had to hold back with her lovers. If she let go of that control, bad things could happen.
“Seline.” This time, her name was a snap. “With
me.
”
He heaved up, and Seline found herself on her back in the tangled covers. His mouth took hers, his tongue thrusting against hers. She wrapped her hands around his shoulders and held on tight, drinking in that wonderful energy. Taking,
taking
as she hadn’t dared before.
Her fingers slid down his back and stroked over those scars.
He thrust faster. Even harder. Her hips arched against him. Her sex was wet and so sensitive now that he slid in deep and easy, pushing right over her clit as he thrust into her. Then his fingers were there, pushing between their bodies and rubbing right where she—
Her climax slammed through her, hot, consuming, and so intense that the last thread of her control snapped.
She took all of his sensual strength, pulling it right inside her. The pleasure blasted her, again and again, and she could only whisper his name.
As her sex rippled around his cock, he came. She felt his release, actually
felt
the eruption of pleasure sweep through his body.
The shove of psychic power that pulsed from him was so intense that the room dimmed for a moment. She clung to him, holding on, even as she tried to grab hold of her control.
No, no, can’t take too much . . . can’t.
She’d taken too once much before and nearly killed her lover.
Death.
Not Sam! The hands that she’d had holding him so tightly suddenly shoved him back.
But apparently, he wasn’t in the mood to be shoved.
Sam’s body was like freaking granite. “Look at me, Seline.”
She’d squeezed her eyes shut a second before, afraid of what she’d see. Now, breath choking out, Seline slowly lifted her lashes.
Sam stared down at her. His hands held her tight. Seline shook her head and said, “I’m sorry.” The apology came because for just an instant, she remembered another time.
Another man.
She hadn’t understood her power then. Rogziel hadn’t told her how quickly the lust would build inside her and how she’d want to
take
.
No, Rogziel hadn’t warned her, not until after he’d found her lover’s weak body.
Never lose control. You could have killed him.
Rogziel’s voice blasted from the past.
Take only a little. You have to survive on tastes. Small sips of pleasure. That’s all. No more. Nothing more.
“You’re apologizing again? For what?” Sam demanded. He was still inside her body, and hardening again.
But was his cock swelling because he truly wanted
her?
Or because she’d let too much of her power out and he had no control now?
“You need to let me go,” she told him, and hated that her voice came out so husky. He couldn’t afford to be weak with all the dangers closing in. How could she have taken such a foolish risk? He had to be at full power, she—
“And you need to tell me why you’re afraid to look me in the eye.”
Couldn’t he feel why? She forced her stare to meet his. “Because I took too much from you.” Her energy level was spiking so high she felt like she could fly right through the ceiling. Her fingers slid once more over his scars, almost helplessly.
He shuddered beneath her touch. “You gave.”
She blinked.
“When you came . . .” His head bent toward hers and his lips brushed across hers. “Sweetheart, you hit me with one powerful blast of energy. You didn’t take.”
Yes, she had. Her blood was pumping, and the energy all but crackled in the air.
“You gave me a surge of pure power, and it’s the damnedest thing I’ve ever felt before.”
She blinked eyes that had gone blurry. “That’s not possible. Rogziel—he said that I couldn’t ever transfer power. That if I wasn’t careful, I’d take too much from my lovers . . . all I can do is take, and if I take too much . . .” Her voice dropped. “I kill.”
Sam pushed his aroused flesh deep into her eager sex. “Angels are good at twisting the truth.”
She lost her breath.
“I’m not weak.” His gaze almost seemed to burn her. “I won’t ever be weak, no matter how much you take.”