Carmella followed her. “For him . . . for one doomed shifter, you’d trade all that heaven can offer?”
Now Marna stiffened. The doors weren’t budging, and little Ms. Sunshine there needed to watch herself. Marna turned on her heel and eyed the angel. “Tanner isn’t doomed.”
But Carmella nodded. “I’m afraid he is. I’ve watched him. I know what he’s done. All the lives he’s taken.” Carmella seemed to glide toward her. The angel’s voice dropped as she said, “He’s evil, you see.”
“No,” Marna snapped right back, “he’s not.”
Carmella blinked. Was that surprise on her face? “How can you not know? You were with him. You had to sense the darkness he carries.”
“Yes, well . . .” She had. “There’s more to life than a little darkness, okay? People can do some very, very bad things, but still be capable of good, too.” That was the beauty of life. You could find goodness even in . . .
Well, even in hell on earth.
She squared her shoulders. “Tanner isn’t doomed. He has me.” And she’d watch out for him. Just not from a perch on some fluffy white cloud.
Guard what you want the most.
“I’ll guard him,” she said, nodding because this was a duty she’d gladly accept, “but I’ll do it from his side.”
Carmella’s eyes widened the smallest bit. “You know what you’re saying . . . ?”
“I’m saying I want to go back to him.”
The angel shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that.” Her white wings skimmed over the golden floor. “To go to earth, to
stay
down there with him, do you know what you have to do?”
Marna’s gut was tight with fear and dread because, yes, she knew. All angels knew. If you wanted to live with the humans below—or even with a certain sexy shifter—then first you had to kiss your heavenly life good-bye.
You had to fall
. “I lost my wings once.” These white wings were so new, she’d barely grown used to the whispery feel of them. “I can lose them again.” She’d survive. No, she’d do more than survive.
She’d be happy.
But first . . . Marna swallowed and realized Carmella was looking at her with emotion now. Finally. And in that stare, Marna saw pity.
“How can you give up so much for one man?”
“It’s not just for him. It’s for me.” For the life she would have. A child. Memories. Laughter. Passion. Now she understood what Bastion had meant. The fall wasn’t just about Tanner.
For me.
“You’ll burn for it,” Carmella warned her.
Her chin lifted. “Yes, I will.”
The heavy doors swept open. Her choice had been heard. The howl of the wind filled her ears. Marna closed her eyes as the wind lifted her body. She hoped she didn’t scream. Hoped she could hold back the cries.
But then she started to fall and the fire came at her . . .
Tanner.
It was his name that she screamed.
The panther leapt through the window, sending shards of glass flying into the interior of the antebellum home. Not a home in construction like his—one that blazed with glory and wealth. Snarls and roars escaped Tanner as he charged for the stairs—and for the man who was already racing toward him.
“Are you insane?” Sammael demanded, glaring at him and stopping short in the middle of the stairs. “Or do you just have a death wish?”
The panther roared again.
Sam’s mate, the blonde with the eyes that saw too much, rushed up behind him.
Tanner had hunted through the city. Gone into the swamps. Searched every place he could think of, but he hadn’t been able to find Marna. Her scent had faded. She’d just vanished from the face of the earth.
Gone to heaven.
“Shouldn’t an angel be with him?” the blonde asked, peering over Sam’s shoulder. “I mean, there’s something missing from this picture, right?”
Tanner snarled.
Sam sent a bolt of fire at him and singed his fur. “You
don’t
snarl at her.”
Fine. He’d just take off the Fallen’s head. The panther charged at Sam.
“He’s hurting,” the woman said, sounding sad.
Sam lifted his hands, not to attack Tanner, but to ward him off. “Easy, beast. I don’t want a war with you.”
The panther’s claws dug into the gleaming hardwood.
Sam winced at the damage, then sighed. “She’s gone, isn’t she?”
And because he couldn’t speak as a panther, Tanner let the shift sweep through him, fast, brutal. He didn’t even feel a whisper of pain. Too much fury rode him. He kept his claws out even as his body became that of a man again, just in case he needed to behead a Fallen.
Tanner would
make
Sam help him. “Her wings grew back.”
“Impossible.” From Seline.
But Sam nodded. “I thought your healing magic might work on her.”
And he hadn’t bothered to pass along that little bit of info? Tanner jumped up and hit him in the jaw. The blow would have shattered a human’s jaw, but Sam just lifted a brow. “Feel better?” the Fallen asked him.
Hell, no.
He wouldn’t feel better until he had Marna back.
“And, damn, man, put some clothes on.” Sam waved his hand and conjured a pair of jeans on Tanner’s body. “Or are you trying to make me go blind?”
The Fallen was an asshole. Tanner lifted his claws. “You knew I’d lose her.”
Sam didn’t back down. “I knew Marna would have a choice. She didn’t fall, not technically, so she could go back, as long as she had her lovely black wings.”
“Her wings were white,” Tanner growled out. “The ones growing back were white.”
“Interesting.” A little shrug. “But then, I never thought she belonged to the death angels.” He caught the woman’s hand.
Seline, that was her name.
Sam pressed a kiss to her palm. “Maybe she’ll get to guard you. It seems as if she’s earned someone’s favor, so perhaps your angel will be by your side.”
Sam brushed by him and left Tanner standing on the staircase, just feet from Seline.
“If she’s my guardian . . .” Tanner cleared his throat, almost afraid to hope. “Will I see her again?”
Get to touch her? Hold her?
“Guardians aren’t meant to be seen,” Seline told him quietly, voice even sadder now.
“And never meant to be touched,” Sam said, his voice rising from below them. He was staring out of the shattered window. His gaze was on the darkness that waited beyond the house.
Tanner’s breath heaved out. So she could come back, but still be forever beyond his reach? That sucked.
“She could fall for you.” Seline’s voice again. Her words had him stiffening because, hell no, he didn’t want her falling.
“If she falls”—Tanner knew his voice sounded too hard, too rough—“then she burns.” He’d never want that agony for her. She wanted her wings.
“Yes.” Seline stared at him.
“It’s the only way,” Sam said. “If you want her back here with you, then she has to fall. She has to choose to come back.”
While he stayed there, helpless? She would have to suffer?
“Does she love you enough to burn for you?” Sam turned slowly to face him. Tanner could see the shadows of the Fallen’s wings. As dark as the night behind him.
Sam’s gaze drifted slowly to Seline, and Tanner knew the woman had suffered the fire for Sam. She’d burned for the Fallen she loved so much.
Did Marna love him that completely?
“I don’t want to know,” Tanner said, and he forced his feet to move. His chest ached, not from the shift, but from the giant freaking hole where his heart had been.
Gone.
Marna was gone, and he didn’t want her to suffer in order to come back to him.
He stopped, his bare feet crunching the glass beneath him, courtesy of the window he’d shattered on his way in. “How does a shifter make it to heaven?” He’d suffer. He’d take the pain, whatever it was.
“Even when you die, you won’t see her.” Was Sam just trying to piss him off? “The carried souls have a different paradise waiting. You won’t be with the guardians.”
So he was
never
going to see her again?
Never?
That hole just burned hotter.
“Tanner!”
His head yanked up. That had been Marna’s voice. She’d been scared, hurting, screaming.
Only . . . Sam looked like he hadn’t heard a thing. The guy was just staring at him. Pity was in his eyes again.
Tanner shoved the Fallen out of his way and pushed through that broken window. “She’s calling me!” Maybe no one else had heard it, but they didn’t have the ears of a shifter. He
knew
that she was out there. Not in heaven. Not watching over him, but
out there,
on earth, needing him.
He’d find her.
Hope began to fill that hole in his chest.
“I’m guessing you just heard her scream. Huh, that happened fast,” Sam muttered. “When we fall, the fire always makes us scream. A thousand times hotter than anything here on earth, no angel can stand that pain.” Sam’s words iced his blood.
A shard of glass cut into Tanner’s arm as he looked over at the Fallen.
Sam shrugged. “I guess she does love you that much.”
She was in pain because she was
burning
for him?
Sam’s hand closed over his arm. “You should know . . . after the fall, things will be different.”
He didn’t care about different. Marna was falling. Her scream echoed in his ears, and he needed to
find
her.
“Most angels don’t remember who they are right after they fall.” Sam’s voice was bleak.
“I didn’t remember for months,” Seline said as she came to the bottom of the stairs.
Sam stared straight at him. He was getting damn tired of the pity in the guy’s eyes. “When you find her, you’ll be a stranger to her. That’s just the way the fall works.”
Stranger or not, that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was
getting
to her. Making sure that she was safe. That she wasn’t alone.
He didn’t want her to open her eyes and have no memory of her life—
of him—
and to be afraid.
Tanner shook off Sam’s hold and rushed back into the night.
He
would
find her.
“Follow the scent of ash,” Sam yelled after him. “You’re already a lucky bastard, you
heard
her scream! You know she’s close.”
Tanner kept running.
“I didn’t know.” Sam’s voice was lower now, fading in the distance. “I had to hunt for my angel.”
And Tanner would hunt for his. Hunt until he found her and had her back in his arms.
Then he’d never let her go again.
He found her at dawn, just as the darkness was fading away. She was walking along a dirt road, near the edge of a swamp. She was naked, and long, angry burn marks crossed her back. Marna moved slowly, her head down, one foot in front of the other.
“Marna!” He yelled her name and rushed toward her. Most of his hunting had been done in panther form, but when he’d finally caught her scent—ash and innocence—he’d shifted back to the body of a man. He’d stolen some clothes, and raced after her.
He hadn’t wanted her to see him as a beast. Not this first time. She’d be scared enough as it was.
Marna turned toward him. And just stared blankly. Not with fear or love. With no recognition.
Then she turned away and kept walking.
No.
No.
Tanner ran after her, grabbed her in his arms, and held her tight. “You aren’t alone.” She’d never be alone again.
Marna began to struggle in his arms. He held her tighter, being careful not to touch the wounds on her back. “It’s
me.
”
She kicked against him. Clawed with her small nails.
Tears trickled down her cheeks. She broke his heart.
“I can fix this,” he promised her. She had to be hurting. Those wounds on her back . . . he’d heal them. Heal her.
Heal her.
That was it. Sam had said that the angels needed time to heal after their fall. He could heal Marna right now. She wouldn’t need any time. He could take away all of her pain.
He
would
take it away.
His fingers hovered over her wounds. The power began to bleed through his skin and pulse through his body. He pushed that power at her, and Marna stopped struggling.
She gasped and her eyes—so blue—widened.
“My name’s Tanner Chance.” His voice was ragged as the healing energy drained from him and slid into her body. “And I’d die for you.”
Her eyes held his.
“I love you,” he told her as he gave her all the power he had, “and by some freaking miracle, you love me, too.” Enough to fall.
Her breathing had steadied. The paleness in her cheeks wasn’t so stark. He kept pushing his magic and energy into her. “Remember me.”
She shook her head.
“Remember.”
And he pressed his lips against hers. His hands were on her back now, hovering over the slashes there. Carefully, he put his fingertips on her. As he touched her, the skin scarred over, the blisters and burns fading, as her flesh healed—as much as it could, anyway.
Her lips were closed, but so soft and silken beneath his. He kept kissing her. She had to remember him. Pain and pleasure. Fire and life. Hope.
Love.
“Please.” He breathed the ragged rasp against her lips. He was as close to breaking as he’d ever been in his whole life. “Just remember . . . me.”
Her lips parted. Her tongue snaked out. Touched his. Tentative. So uncertain. He forced himself to stay controlled. To kiss her gently when—
She pulled away from him. Marna’s eyes searched his. “How many times . . . ?” Her voice was weak, as if she’d broken it. When she had been falling? And screaming for him?