by Larissa Ione
Harvester gave Limos a hug—brief and awkward, but Reaver had a feeling it was the first time she’d initiated an embrace since she’d been a young angel.
“Thank you, Limos.” Stepping back, Harvester cleared her throat of an emotional hitch and glanced down at Limos’s newly restored baby bump. “Do you want to know? Boy or girl?”
Limos and Arik exchanged glances, and then they both shook their heads.
“We’ll wait. You can taunt me for the next few months.”
Harvester snorted. “You really do know me.”
Limos scanned Harvester from head to toe as if deciding how true Harvester’s observation was. “It’s going to be weird having you be our Heavenly Watcher after centuries of being our Sheoulic one.”
“Speaking of your Sheoulic Watcher,” Reaver said, taking Harvester’s hand, “you should probably know that Revenant is my evil twin brother.”
“What?” The question came as a chorus from Arik, Harvester, and Limos.
“Yeah. Long story. I’ll tell you all over margaritas.” Reaver grinned. “Let’s get this party started.”
Thirty-Five
The sunset ceremony, performed by Idess on the beach outside Limos’s house, was perfect. Harvester had never been into “girly wedding dresses and crap,” so she wore a slinky black and white—the white part at Limos’s insistence—sundress with stiletto-heeled black boots that Reaver wanted her to wear later.
“Just the boots,” he’d whispered into her ear.
“What about the garter,” she whispered back, and he’d groaned. “That can stay.”
And just for him, she’d worn skimpy hot pink panties under the dress. He was going to eat them off of her.
Now the Horsemen and their families were partying into the night with the Underworld General crew. Hellhounds patrolled the perimeter, although Cara’s hound, Hal, and Thanatos and Regan’s son’s pup, Cujo, were in the center of the action and creating trouble, as usual. Currently, Cujo was playing keep away with the pit-roasted pig’s head while Hal chased after, knocking over people, tables, and chairs.
The Horsemen had all taken an opportunity to welcome Harvester to the family—even Thanatos, who had more reason than any of them to harbor a grudge. Reaver suspected it would be a while before he trusted Harvester completely, but she was okay with that.
Reaver watched her from the deck, where he’d come to check on Tavin. Earlier, Harvester had confirmed Blaspheme’s theory that the symbol was an ancient fallen angel assassination curse, and now that Reaver knew the truth about himself, he understood why he’d been able to conjure a fallen angel curse. As a Radiant, he possessed both angel and fallen angel powers, so even though he hadn’t been Raised at the time, the ability had been inside him and released thanks to the lasher implants.
Not that the reason for Reaver’s ability to create an ancient assassination symbol meant anything to Tavin. It wasn’t all bad news, though. According to Harvester, the snake curse had to be programmed to kill at a specific time.
“No program, no kill,” she’d said. “You should be safe.”
“Bullshit. The fucker is trying to kill me,” Tavin ground out.
“That’s because you haven’t made friends with it.”
Tavin swore. “How the fuck am I supposed to make friends with an assassination snake that’s permanently attached to me?”
“I have no idea,” Harvester said. “Good luck. I have to go get mated now.”
Getting her angel wings back hadn’t changed Harvester’s personality much. And Reaver was fine with that. She wouldn’t be the same frustrating, bold, sexy angel if it had.
She’d left Tavin to hang out with his brothers, who were all surveying the female guests and calculating their odds of getting laid.
Too bad Tav was still pissed about the whole “ruining his life” thing, and he’d let Reaver in on that fact by punching him in the face. The dude hadn’t even cared that Reaver could destroy him with a mere thought.
Seminus demons were seriously the most obnoxious species of demon ever.
Reaver made an attempt to repair the damage he’d done, but it turned out that Metatron was right, and he couldn’t channel any kind of positive energy into the demon. In fact, when he tried, Tavin had screamed in agony and the snake had bitten into his throat. Reaver had been forced to fork the serpent in the eye to make it let go.
Tavin punched Reaver again and muttered something about trying to tame a pissed-off fork-faced snake.
You couldn’t please some demons.
But Reaver would make it a priority to help the guy. Without him, Reaver never would have been able to rescue Harvester. They both owed him their lives.
As if she heard his thoughts, Harvester looked over her shoulder at him, her ebony hair cascading over breasts he couldn’t wait to have all to himself very soon. Maybe now, if the naughty glint in her eyes was telling him something.
He was about to kidnap her for a quick repeat of the pool incident when Eidolon came over and clapped him on the shoulder. The clap was followed by a hiss and an abrupt step back.
“Damn,” he said, shaking out his hand. “Angels give me the willies. And you’re an angel on steroids now. Reaver 2.0.”
“Wraith called me Angelicus Prime. I’m not sure if that’s an insult or not.”
E laughed. “It’s from Wraith and Stewie’s current obsession with the Transformers.”
“Ah.”
Eidolon gazed out at the cast and crew of one of the strangest and most amazing episodes in Reaver’s life. “It’s kind of crazy how everything has worked out, isn’t it? When I first met you, you were angling to get your wings back, and I was up to my eyeballs dealing with two brothers who couldn’t have been more messed up.”
Yeah, Reaver could now relate to the messed up brother thing, and the strangest part was that he wasn’t reeling in surprise over it. Or over anything Metatron had told him. Once his memories had been restored and after the initial shock of each memory’s revelation, it was as if they’d always been with him. As if he’d always known that during the five thousand years Harvester was in Sheoul he’d been assigned to odd jobs around Heaven. As if he’d always known Harvester liked to swim in the nude—because he’d spied on her when she was Verrine. As if he’d always known he had a brother.
But where did they go from here? How did he deal with an evil brother who clearly hated him? He’d have to ask Eidolon how he’d done it someday.
“We’ve come a long way,” Reaver agreed.
“I can’t believe we’re all mated now.” Eidolon grinned, and Reaver went on alert. That was E’s evil grin. “Which means you have to tattoo my caduceus on your ass.”
Reaver groaned. “You’re going to hold me to that, aren’t you?”
Eidolon shrugged. “Tell you what. Get it anywhere you want. I’m generous that way.” Near the surf, Tayla held up their son, Sabre, and waved his little hand at Eidolon. E waved back, a fiercely proud smile on his face. “So… now that you’re all Angelicus Primed, will we still see you?”
Reaver scowled. “Are you taking back your job offer?”
A volleyball came at them, and E batted it back to Wraith and Than, who were having a one-on-one no one seemed to be winning.
“I assumed you’d have other duties. And angels can’t enter the hospital.”
Reaver grinned. “I can enter anywhere I damned well please. That’s the thing about this Radiant gig. I can do whatever I want.”
Eidolon raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And what you want is to work at a demon hospital?”
Yeah, Reaver was surprised by that, too. He turned to the doctor, propping his hip against the deck railing. “When I lost my wings again, I thought I’d be miserable. But the screwed-up thing was that I was actually kind of relieved.” He’d loved the power that went with being an angel, but not the regiment. He’d liked the responsibility, but not the rules.
“But when you were fallen the first time, all you wanted wa
s to get your wings back.”
“I did,” he said. “But after I got them back, I realized I missed healing.” He smirked. “Even if it was demons.”
“Aw, I’ve missed your backhanded compliments,” Eidolon drawled.
Reaver laughed. “So? What do you say? My angel duties are light. I pretty much exist to put down huge demon problems and counter everything Revenant does, so as long as things stay calm, I’ll need something to do. I can’t use my powers to heal demons, but I’m a damned good doctor, and you know it.”
“Fine. Get the tat and report for duty next week.” Eidolon glanced over at Harvester, who had kicked off her boots and was walking toward them, her gaze locked on Reaver and promising very, very bad things. “Or, you know, when you’re done with the honeymoon.”
“That might be a while.” Reaver’s focus narrowed on the female coming at him, her stride purposeful, predatory, and his body hardened. “A long while.”
Unable to stand another second without Harvester, he gave Eidolon a “see ya,” and flashed to her, scooped her up before she could blink, and flashed them both to the jungle pool. Shifting to wrap her legs around his waist, she brought her mouth down on his. She kissed him passionately, her tongue sweeping his mouth and sliding against his, making him groan with need.
“We can go someplace else if you want,” he murmured against her lips.
“Can’t wait.” She rolled her hips against his erection, and he hissed at the intense friction.
“Agreed.” He left her lips to kiss his way to her neck, loving how she arched back to allow him more access. “We’ve waited too long as it is.” He drew back, pausing things for just a moment, because this was too important to ignore. “I didn’t realize it, but I’ve been looking for you for five thousand years.”
Harvester’s eyes shimmered wetly, like dew clinging to meadow grass. “And I’ve been waiting for you for five thousand years.”
“No more waiting or looking,” he whispered.
“No more,” she agreed. “But there’s still the little matter of our deal.”
“You released me from that.”
“I changed my mind.” She shrugged. “I decided that what we did in Sheoul doesn’t count. I want my twenty-four hours of pleasure.”
“Do you,” he mused. “Hmm. I guess I can do that. You know, if I have to.”
“You have to.” She playfully dragged her finger down his chest. “And remember how I said I appreciate a talented tongue?”
Heat flooded him, and it took every ounce of self-control to not drop her to the ground and take her right that second. “I remember.” His voice was a ragged croak.
“Good. Let’s put that tongue to use.”
Grinning, he dropped her to the ground and did just that. With his new powers.
Yep, this Radiant thing was very cool. Reaver couldn’t wait to explore all his new upgrades.
But what he wanted to explore the most was Harvester.
And he had an eternity to do it.
Larissa Ione’s New York Times bestselling Demonica series is back and hotter than ever!
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Revenant
One
Revenant was one fucked-up fallen angel.
No, wait… angel. He’d only believed he was a fallen angel.
For five thousand fucking years.
But he wasn’t an angel, either. Maybe technically, but how could someone born and raised in Sheoul, the demon realm some humans called hell, be considered a holy-rolling, shiny-haloed angel? He might have a halo, but the shine was long gone, tarnished since his first taste of mother’s milk, mixed with demon blood, when he was only hours old.
Five thousand fucking years.
It had been two weeks since he’d learned the truth and the memories that had been taken away from him were returned. Now he remembered everything that had happened over the centuries.
He’d been a bad, bad angel. Or a very, very good fallen angel, depending on how you looked at it.
Toxic anger rushed through his veins as he paced the parking lot outside Underworld General Hospital. Maybe the doctors inside had some kind of magical drug that could take his memories away again. Life had been way easier when he’d believed he was pure evil, a fallen angel with no redeeming qualities.
Okay, he probably still didn’t have any redeeming qualities, but now, what he did have were conflicted feelings. Questions. A twin brother who couldn’t be more opposite of him.
With a vicious snarl, he strode toward the entrance to the emergency department, determined to find a certain False Angel doctor he was sure could help him forget the last five thousand years, if only for a couple of hours.
The sliding glass doors swished open, and the very female he’d come for sauntered out, her blue-and-yellow-duckie-spotted scrubs clinging to a killer body. Instant lust fired in his loins, and fuck yeah, screw the drugs, she was exactly what the doctor ordered.
Take her twice and call me in the morning.
He watched her long legs eat up the asphalt as she walked, and he imagined them wrapped around his waist as he pounded into her. The closer she got, the harder his body got, and he cursed with disappointment when she dropped her keys and had to stop to pick them up. Then he decided she could drop her keychain as often as she wanted to, because he got a fucking primo view of her deep cleavage when her top gaped open as she bent over.
She straightened, looped the keychain around her finger, and started toward him again, humming a Duran Duran song.
“Blaspheme.” He stepped out from between two black ambulances, blocking her path.
She jumped, a startled gasp escaping full crimson lips made to propel a male to ecstasy. “Revenant.” Her gaze darted to the hospital doors, and he got the impression she was plotting her escape route. How cute that she thought she could get away from him. “What are you doing lurking in the parking lot?”
Lurking? Well, some might call it that, he supposed. “I was on my way to see you.”
She smiled sweetly. “Well, you’ve seen me. Buh-bye.” Pivoting, her blonde ponytail bouncing, she headed in the opposite direction.
Back to the hospital.
He flashed around in front of her, once again blocking her path. “Come home with me.”
“Wow.” She crossed her arms over her chest, which only drew his attention to her rack. Niiice. “You get right to the point.”
He shrugged. “Saves time.”
“Were you planning to wine and dine me at least? You know, before the sex.”
“No. Just sex.” Lots and lots of sex. He could already imagine her husky voice deepening in the throes of passion. Could imagine her head between his legs, her mouth on his cock, her hands on his balls. He nearly groaned at the imaginary skin flick playing in his head.
“Oh,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re a charmer, you are.”
Not once in his five thousand years had anyone ever called him a charmer. But even uttered with sarcasm, it was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him.
“Don’t do that,” he growled.
“Do what?” She stared at him like he was a loon.
“Never mind.” Dying to touch her, he held out his hand in invitation. “You’ll love my play room.”
She wheeled away like he was offering her the plague instead of his hand. “Go to hell, asshole. I don’t date fallen angels.”
“Good news, then, because it’s not a date.” And he wasn’t a fallen angel.
“Right. Well, I don’t fuck fallen angels either.” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “Go away.”
She was rejecting him? The sudden reality was like a blow that left him completely off balance. No one rejected him. No one.
She started to take off again, and an abrupt, almost crushing panic squeezed his chest. This wasn’t right. He had his sights set on her, and she was supposed to surrender. This was something new. Something… titillating. The crushing
panic morphed into a sensation he welcomed and knew well: the jacked-up high of the hunt.
Instantly, his senses sharpened and focused. His sense of smell brought a whiff of her vanilla-honey scent. His sense of hearing brought her rapid, pounding heartbeat. And his sense of sight narrowed in on the tick of her pulse at the base of her throat.
The urge to pounce, to take her down and get carnal right here, right now, was nearly overwhelming. Instead, he moved in slowly, enjoying how she backed up, but he didn’t catch the scent of fear from her.
“What are you doing?” She swallowed as she bumped up against a support beam.
“I’m going to show you why you need to come home with me.” He planted both palms on either side of her head and leaned in until his lips brushed the tender skin of her ear. “You won’t regret it.”
“I already told you. I don’t fuck fallen angels.”
“So you said,” he murmured. “Do you kiss them?”
“Ah… n—”
He didn’t give her the chance to finish her sentence. Pulling back slightly, he closed his mouth over hers.
Strawberry gloss coated his lips as he kissed her, and he swore he’d never liked fruit as much as he did right now.
Her hands came up to grip his biceps, tugging him closer as she deepened the kiss. “You’re good,” she whispered against his mouth.
“I know,” he whispered back.
Suddenly, pain tore into his arms as her nails scored his skin. “But you’re not that good.” Before he could even blink, she shoved hard and ducked out from under the cage of his arms. With a wink, she strutted away, her fine ass swinging in her form-fitting scrub bottoms. She stopped at the door of a candy-apple-red Mustang and gave him a sultry look that made his cock throb. “Give up now, buddy. I can out-stubborn anyone.”
And with that, she hopped into her car and peeled out of her parking stall, leaving him in the dust.