Here Kevin re-formed—and stood in raging silence on the platform overlooking the walled courtyard. His lungs drew hard, deep breaths of air. His teeth were clenched so tightly he feared they would break.
But his mind paused for a moment in its inner tirade. Down below, where grass and concrete normally paved the long-deserted yard, he saw thousands upon thousands of black dandelions carpeting the ground.
* * *
Azrael watched as Sophie raised her hand, the gold bracelet pinched between her thumb and forefinger.
“What’s the matter, big boy?” she asked. “You weren’t expecting that?”
Az’s blood thrummed to delicious life at the challenge in Sophie’s eyes. It was a beautiful thing. It was her own inner fire, finally freed and loosed upon the world. He’d always known she had it inside herself. Her life and its misfortunes had taken that fire and beat it until it was a pile of smoldering embers—still there, still vital, but barely simmering in the careful dark of her soul.
But now it blazed. He knew that it wasn’t her doing, not completely. He could feel the influence of another all around her, coaxing out the flames, breathing oxygen on the conflagration until it was an inferno. But it was all Sophie who locked gazes with him now and held her very powerful ground.
He smiled. It was the vampire in him—awakened to the moment. He looked from her eyes to the bracelet, and the hand that held it. A dark star of a mark graced her palm; it was the mark that Juliette had spoken of, given to Sophie by the man in white.
“Very well,” he said, lowering his gaze and letting his power wash over her. “We’ll do this my way.” He let his fangs grow to their full length, and Sophie’s expression changed. Uncertainty flitted across her features.
She should have given in then. If she’d been mortal, she would have been utterly and completely mesmerized, lost to his command no matter what it was. But Sophie, in all her newfound power and under Gregori’s malevolent influence, stood her ground, though she dropped the bracelet from between numb fingers. Her other hand clenched and unclenched at her side and she licked her lips.
He could smell the adrenaline now. The cortisol. She was frightened. But there was another scent as well, faint and sweet and precious. Little Sophie Bryce, all fire and sunshine and defiance, was indeed afraid of him.
But she was also turned on.
The combination was like a siren song to his blood; there was almost no sweeter solution.
No being on Earth had ever withstood his power. The fact that his archess was able to stand up to him was both a curse and a blessing. He didn’t want to hurt her—but he loved that she was giving him no choice.
His fanged smile broadened as he raised his hand and crooked his finger in a come-hither gesture. “Make this easier on yourself, Sunshine,” he said, his tone taunting, his voice deep and beautiful. “Come to me now and I’ll only bite you once.”
Sophie’s eyes widened just a little. She straightened and he watched her fidget, no doubt considering retreat. But her heart continued to pound and her blood continued to race through her veins, and the fire that licked along her being was still there, still hot, and still magnificent. Another roll of deafening thunder shook the apartment complex, testament to the fact that her storm yet raged.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she lied. And then, as if to prove her lack of fear, she looked to her right, zeroed in on the nearest piece of furniture, and using telekinesis, lifted a cinder block from the makeshift shelves she’d created against the wall.
The heavy piece of rock moved with incredible speed, expertly aimed directly at his head.
Azrael waved his hand and the block was redirected. It sailed across the room to smash into one of the walls, taking an enormous chunk out of the paint, plaster, and wood before it dropped to the floor and cracked the wooden planks beneath it.
Not to be defeated, Sophie turned toward the window and her gold eyes flashed with bright power. Azrael whirled, transforming his body into mist just as a bolt of lightning shot through the window, illuminated the world in bright white, and knocked out all sound. Electricity buzzed through the particles of his being, threatening their makeup with the heat of a thousand suns. He managed to move around it as it cascaded through the apartment, fractured into a hundred different static points, and fizzled out.
The lightning strike took only a split second, but for a vampire, it played out in slow motion. Azrael re-formed, whole and untouched by the electrical attack. And then he rushed Sophie. Flying bricks were one thing—fire was another.
Sophie may have had the heavens at her command and impressive powers of telekinesis, but for the most part, she was still human; she possessed neither the strength nor the speed of an archangel, to say nothing of a vampire.
She never saw him coming. Azrael took her before she could blink, wrapping one arm around her waist and fisting the other hand in her hair. She cried out in surprise as he yanked her head back, exposing her throat. Her fingers curled into the leather jacket under his trench coat and she closed her eyes in what he knew was both fear and desire. At once, he was awash with the scent of her, the feel of her.
For two thousand years he had been waiting to sink his fangs into just one woman. He’d searched for her, hunted for her, nearly given up on finding her. Now she was here, in his arms, and immune to every part of him but one. He had no choice but to do what he was about to do—and right now, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“You were warned, Sunshine,” he told her, whispering the words in her ear as her quick breaths fanned his own cheek. He chuckled deep and dark. “So here’s the first of many.”
With that, he tightened his hold, raised his head, and drove his fangs deep into the side of her throat.
She made the sweetest, most helpless sound as his teeth found purchase in the taut flesh of her neck. He opened the vein beneath him, baring it to his hunger, and his body roared to delicious life. And then the first drops of her precious blood spilled across his tongue, and his vision went red.
Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined that she would taste like this. He swallowed and felt as though he were swallowing hope. Salvation. He took it into himself rapaciously, growling deep and low as precious healing fire spread throughout his body and soul, searing it clean and perfect. There was nothing wrong with the world in that moment. There was no danger, no death.
No Death.
Soft and sweet, she moaned against him, her body shuddering as her power left it and made room for his. He flooded her with it, overwhelming her with the bliss that came from submitting to the vampire king. He could feel her magic crackle around her, warm and sparkling and fading. As he drank, the darkness that had invaded that magic slipped away as well, ebbing in its strength until Sophie relaxed against him.
Her body was hot; it radiated heat and passion—and he was so hard, he was in pain.
Slowly, sensuously, Azrael released his hold on her hair and she lowered her head to breathe softly against his neck. With his free hand, he pulled her more tightly against him. He swallowed and she moaned and his grip tightened with a nearly crazed need.
I have to stop, he thought. She was filling him with life and it was something he had never felt and he didn’t want to give it up for anything. But if he didn’t slow down, if he didn’t ease off, he would drain her dry.
Azrael had always had control over his world and those around him. But Sophie Bryce was changing him to his core. He had to regain the control she was making him lose and he had to do it now.
With great effort, he pulled his teeth from her neck. She shuddered against him, and he absorbed the emotion as he looked into her eyes. They were heavy-lidded and glassy with lust; the scent of her desire teased and tempted him. If he so chose, he could lay her down right here on the floor of her destroyed apartment and have the rest of her.
But that wasn’t the point of all of this. It wasn’t why he had bitten her.
Was it?
He
needed to get her out of here, away from people that her immense power could harm, away from the prying eyes of whatever monsters Gregori had lurking around. Az had managed to take the fight out of her, but how long would that last? Even now, he heard the rumble of thunder that threatened to become more. He heard the first few drops of rain hit the roof above them as Sophie’s storm finally broke open and wept.
And as it did, he watched a single tear loose itself from Sophie’s golden orb to trickle down her perfect cheek.
Azrael’s vision shifted into normal hues, his gut clenched, and his chest felt strange. Slowly, tenderly, he lowered his lips to her cheek and tasted the salt of her pain. As he did, he closed his eyes and reined in his monster. Sophie’s soul was in turmoil. The world made no sense to her just then. She would never admit it to him, not here and now, under the spell of the anger and regret she had moving through her, but she needed her archangel as much as he needed his archess.
“Hold tight to me,” he whispered to her.
Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was need. But whatever it was, Sophie responded by ducking her head against him and wrapping her arms as tightly as she could around his chest.
Azrael glanced up and then shot through the ceiling, shielding Sophie’s body as he went. The plaster, beams, and insulation shredded around him, fanning out in every direction like shrapnel from a grenade. He took them high, moving so fast that no human eye could have noticed the figures blurring through the night sky.
And Sophie, safe in his grip, made not a sound.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Mitchell watched his general move slowly through the strange field of black dandelions in the old prison yard. Kevin had changed a lot since he and the other Adarians had been cast to Earth. The twelve of them had once been a tight band, brothers in purpose and creation, bound by what they were and what they’d gone through. Now only a handful of them remained. It had all happened so quickly.
And Mitchell couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was Kevin’s fault.
Going after Eleanore Granger was one thing. She’d been the first being they had come across who possessed the ability to heal, a gift they’d desperately yerned for. Eleanore was not only blessed with the very power that the Adarians needed, she was also astonishingly beautiful. That Kevin had fallen in love with her was something Mitchell could wholeheartedly understand. Their consequential hunt for the woman across the span of more than a decade was a mere drop in the bucket of time for them and well worth the possible rewards.
However, once they’d found her and faced off against the Four Favored archangels, things had taken a turn for the worse for the Adarians. After their initial battle several months ago, everything had changed.
Kevin Trenton had always been a good leader. He’d always had a plan that favored the Adarians, kept them alive, and furthered their purpose. Kevin was a charismatic man, and Mitchell and the others had followed him blindly, knowing deep down that Kevin would do what was best for them all. And that was why when the general suggested that Mitchell attempt to become a vampire himself by draining a mortal of all of his blood and ingesting it, Mitchell was able to see the benefit of such a plan. As a vampire, he would be able to heal—hence, no more need for the archesses’ powers. As a vampire, he would be able to move through the shadows, fly, and read people’s minds. He would become stronger and faster and, for an Adarian, that was incredibly impressive. The benefits seemed to outweigh the drawbacks—that he would have to feed on a regular basis and that he would never again see sunlight. He’d never been overly fond of the sun anyway.
But now there were only four Adarians remaining out of the original dozen. And those four were vampires. They were stronger, yes. But they were mere shades of the angels they’d once been, relegated to the darkness and the shadows, so far from the grace of the one who had created them that Mitchell had the disquieting sensation that he’d never been created in the first place.
It was with a sinking feeling in his gut and a cold numbness in his soul that Mitchell had this one thought: This has gone too far.
He watched his leader stride over the field of unearthly black dandelions, his once intelligent blue eyes glowing red, and Mitchell knew—he simply knew—that Abraxos was no more. The man he’d once been had been lost somewhere. There was a madness to Kevin now that threatened them all.
Mitchell had been a fool to let it go as far as it had. They were in over their heads. Seven Adarians were dead. One—Daniel—had gone missing. How many needed to be lost before the rest learned their lesson?
Mitchell felt shockingly stupid in that moment. The universe had been screaming at him, insistent in its plan, and he’d all but turned a deaf ear to its warnings. Adam’s death—the mutilation of him and his companions—it hadn’t been the archangels’ doing. These dandelions were a sign. Nothing here was right; the entire island smelled of evil. The Four Favored were a thorn in every Adarian’s side. But they weren’t evil.
Something more was going on here, and Mitchell’s instincts were telling him to get out now. Before it was too late altogether.
“It wasn’t them,” he said softly, his eyes fixed on the lone figure of his leader.
There was a moment of silence in which no one said anything. And then Luke moved beside him, glancing once over his shoulder at the exit they’d come through. “No,” Luke said. “I agree.”
Ely sighed wearily. Mitchell and Luke both regarded the large black man with expectation. His glowing eyes were focused on Kevin and the eerie field of black he moved through. His expression was one of deep sadness and hard resolve. But he said nothing. Before Ely had become a vampire, Mitchell would have been able to read his mind. But now Mitchell was relegated to the thoughts of mortals; vampire minds were too difficult to traverse.
And then Mitchell sensed a change in the air. He looked back at Kevin, who had stopped in the field, his back to his men. He wasn’t moving. He simply stood there, tall and dark and filled with something both unknown and powerful.
As if he was waiting for something. Or listening for something.
Mitchell frowned and descended the steps to join him. The others followed. When they were right behind him, Kevin asked, “Mitchell, Luke, I’ll need your blood again. We’re going after them.”
Mitchell’s stomach clenched. He glanced at Luke and noticed that the blood had drained from Luke’s face. As Adarians, Mitchell possessed the ability to read minds and Luke had the power to enter people’s dreams. When their blood was combined, it produced new abilities, among them the power to scry a being’s whereabouts.
It was how Kevin had located Sophie Bryce the first few times. Clearly the general wasn’t ready to give up.
It’s now or never, Mitchell thought. He’d been blind until now. If he continued to hold his tongue, he wouldn’t be blind. He would be a coward.
“No,” he said. His heart hammered and blood rushed through his ears. He went on, though the next two words out of his mouth were the hardest he had ever uttered. “We’re not.”
Mitchell felt the world come to a stop beneath him. It simply ceased to spin. The air froze, each molecule petrified in place. Watches everywhere slowed down.
And then Kevin turned around, just as slowly, and Mitchell felt the wall of his power turn with him. It enveloped Mitchell like a blanket of electrons, filling him with dread.
“Is there something you’d like to share with the rest of the class, Morael?” Kevin asked, using Mitchell’s original name. “Such as the fact that you believe this has gone too far? That the murders of our brothers were not performed at the hands of the Four Favored?” His voice was soft—too soft.
Kevin took a step forward, closing the distance between them and entrapping Mitchell in a space without air. He seemed to be pulling his words directly from Mitchell’s mind—and it hit Mitchell that possibly Kevin was capable of doing just such a thing.
“Or maybe you’d like to give voice to your notions of my madness. Please,” h
e said, cocking his head to one side, “do expand upon your theory that the deaths of our brethren are my fault.”
Mitchell’s world was turned on its side. Every single thing he had been thinking for the last few minutes, Kevin had heard. He’d been in his mind, and Mitchell hadn’t even felt it. For a man who had spent centuries reading the minds of others, Mitchell was particularly not adept at noticing when such a thing was being done to him instead.
He expected it to end then. He would put up a fight of course, but Kevin was the stronger, and he had no misconceptions about who would win in the end. It was a cold, hard sensation to know that the life you’d grown accustomed to for the past several thousand years was about to come to an end in one form or another. Either he was going to die or he was going to live and everything he had ever known would change.
He would no longer be a part of the Adarian family, what there was left of it anyway. He would no longer be led by a man he trusted. He would no longer be that man’s confidant and friend. He was going to lose all that he was and all he had ever been.
Right here, right now.
But then Kevin straightened, and the lines in his forehead drew together. Suddenly, unexpectedly, the Adarian leader looked surprised. He took a step back from Mitchell and turned his glowing blue gaze upon Luke beside him.
“Et tu, Brute?” Kevin asked softly. He looked less sure than he had a moment ago. Less angry and more hurt.
A second later, his eyes widened, just a little—and he turned his gaze upon Ely. Ely immediately blinked and tried to look away, but it was as if Kevin’s eyes were gravitational, and Ely was once more locking gazes with the general. “You, Ely?” Kevin shook his head, his expression bewildered. “Of all people.”
Ely licked his lips and rolled his shoulders. “Adam is dead,” he said. “Raze, Thane, Paul . . .” The large Adarian shook his head, his amber eyes flashing. “We’ve lost almost everyone. This has to stop now. You have gone too far. There’s nothing left.”
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