by Sylvia Day
With a theatrical and mocking sweep of his arm, Adrian invited them into his home. Zaphiel brushed past as if he owned the place. Eve paused in front of her host. Her stance was relaxed with her shoulders rolled back. Bravado went a long way in throwing Infernals and Celestials off their game.
Removing her sunglasses, she thrust out her hand and introduced herself.
Adrian’s mouth lifted on one side before he accepted the greeting. The half-smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and his grip was stronger than required. “Adrian Mitchell.”
She felt a power surge from his palm to hers. Considering his reluctant deference to Zaphiel’s arrogance, she guessed he was a seraph. She wondered why one of the seraphim was living among mortals. They were the angels responsible for sending kill orders to the archangels; it was through the seraphim that the firms knew which demons to hunt. The job didn’t require being stationed on earth. In fact, the seraphim so rarely visited the firms that an appearance by one of them usually heralded a shit storm of trouble.
Adrian’s expression softened. “Losing someone while they’re still with you is painful, I know.”
It took her a moment to realize he’d intruded into her mind and read her. She yanked her hand back. “I hate when you guys do that.”
“I’m sure.” Genuine amusement crossed his face, softening him. It elevated him to a whole new level of hotness. Even Eve, as madly in love as she was, could appreciate it.
Preceding him deeper into the house, she saw that the expansive foyer descended into a living room via three wide but shallow steps. The massive space spreading out from that point was furnished with oversized burgundy leather sofas and roughly hewn wooden accent pieces. The river rock-faced fireplace was large enough to hold a Mini Cooper, but it couldn’t compete with the wall of windows and its stunning vista.
When Adrian moved to sit, Zaphiel said, “I have no intention of staying long. If I am to see to your failures, I must begin immediately.”
Eve stopped moving, hoping to become a fly on the wall. Knowledge was power, and direct knowledge from the upper echelon angels was nearly impossible for Marks to come by.
Adrian’s arms crossed. “Begin what?”
“Hunting the vamp who killed your second-in-command.”
Her brows rose. Vampyres were one of the many classifications of Infernals that Marks dealt with. Gadara and the firm should be handling any problems in that area. Having a cherub and seraph digging into the situation set her teeth on edge. The more fingers in the pie, the bigger the clusterfuck.
“I’ve got a handle on it,” Adrian said coldly.
“You do not.” Zaphiel examined his fingernails. “And it pleases me not at all to know that lives have been lost due to your negligence.”
“You think I’m happy about it?”
“I do not care how you feel. I am here to tell you to stay out of my way. The rest is no longer your concern.”
Adrian laughed without humor. “Whose concern is it, if not mine?”
Zaphiel lifted his hand and pointed at Eve. “Hers.”
* * * * *
CHAPTER 2
After returning Zaphiel to Gadara Tower, Eve headed home with plans for a hot shower and an evening alone. A feel-good movie while curled up on the couch sounded like heaven to her. She usually preferred blow-‘em-up action flicks, but she’d had enough real-life explosions to last her for a good, long while. Maybe Becoming Jane would do the trick or something stupidly funny like Blades of Glory.
She stood for a long time beneath the pummeling spray of the shower, telling herself that she had no business wondering why Alec wasn’t at home in his apartment next to hers. She’d given up the right to know what he did at night and she shouldn’t second guess that decision, especially after today. No one should end up stuck in the middle of a feud between a cherub and a seraph. She wouldn’t wish it on her worst enemy.
After drying off, she tossed her towel over the laundry basket and belted on a thick white terry cloth robe. Then, she went on the hunt for comfort food. It was a boon of the mark that her body ignored any attempt on her part to screw it up, including wanton snacking; otherwise her breakup with Alec would surely have given her a fat ass by now.
She was turning into the kitchen when the stereo in her living room inexplicably came on. Stevie Nicks's beautiful "Crystal" replaced the silence, freezing Eve mid-step.
On her deltoid, the brand of the Mark of Cain—a one-inch in diameter triquetra surrounded by a circlet of three serpents, each one eating the tail of the snake before it—tingled and flooded her bloodstream with adrenaline. Her senses sharpened so quickly it was nearly a rush, the world around her bursting into a vibrancy she’d never experienced as a mere mortal. The mark made her faster, stronger, and quicker to heal. It also enabled her to identify the man in her living room from where she stood—sight unseen.
Eve started forward again with a shiver of anticipation, continuing to where the hall emptied into the living room. The sheer curtains that framed her sliding glass doors billowed from the ocean breeze. Beyond her balcony lay the sands of Huntington Beach, a coastal community that was home to hundreds of demons. That number was just a fraction of the worldwide population of Infernals living undetected among mortals. Such was the life she lived now, having her groceries bagged by incubi and her Big Mac served by faeries.
The clink of shifting ice against metal drew her eye to the silver champagne bucket on the coffee table and the napkin-wrapped bottle it held. Two half-full flutes waited nearby.
The man at her entertainment center turned to face her. She was struck again by how gorgeous he was. So like his brother in physical traits—smooth olive skin, black as night hair, and espresso brown eyes—but completely different in every other way. His resemblance to Alec had first drawn her to him, but Reed continued to hold her attention all on his own. She was half-way in love with him, which confused her and caused all sorts of trouble.
“Hi,” he said. Although he appeared casual and relaxed, his dark gaze was avid.
“Hi, yourself.”
“I hope you don’t mind that I popped in.” His choice of words was apt, considering his angelic gifts enabled him to shift from one location to any other in the world in the blink of an eye.
“You’re always welcome. Nothing is going to change that.”
He caught up the flutes as he came toward her and a cool stem was pressed into her hand. She looked down, catching sight of something circular glittering at the bottom. Her breath caught.
“I’m glad to hear that,” he murmured. His warm fingers wrapped around hers. “Because I have a question to ask you...”
“Reed.” A stunningly large diamond graced an engagement ring covered in tiny champagne bubbles. It was the kind of ring women turned pea green over; it shouted the wealth of the man who’d given it and the value he placed on the woman wearing it. The ostentatious piece was totally Reed, a man known as much for his Lamborghinis and Ferraris as he was for the caliber of his work.
The ferocity of her response was enough to rock her backward a few steps. The last few months of confusion coalesced into one shining moment of perfect clarity. She felt a similar jolt of reality startling him before rippling across the connection between them.
He spoke too quickly. “Zaphiel is here to investigate the recent death of a seraph. He wants you to assume a cover, and move into one of Raguel’s resort communities as a resident.”
“O-kay… How is that supposed to work? The Infernals will smell me coming.” Infernals reeked of rotting souls; Marks smelled sickly sweet. Alec said it was similar to deer smelling the wolves coming—it was “fair.” Eve called it a “what-the-fuck”. She couldn’t understand why God would draft an unwilling army of sinners to fight his battles against demons, only to announce their arrival by making them stick out in a crowd.
“We’re not dealing with Infernals,” Reed said. “But we’ll get to that in a minute. Raguel wants you undercover as part of a team
, not solo, which means you’ll need a husband. Hence the ring.”
Relief flooded her. “Oh, gotcha. Geez, you scared me for a minute. The whole champagne and music—”
“When Raguel explained the assignment to me, I realized the idea of marrying you had some merit.” He shifted on his feet and shoved his hands into the pockets of his Versace slacks. “So, why propose twice when I can do it right the first time?”
Eve gaped. “We’re not even dating at this point!”
“Because you’re hung up on Cain,” he shot back.
“And you’re a commitment-phobe.”
“Bullshit.” Reed glared down at her. “You know I want more than you’re giving me. You’re the one holding back.”
“The moment I saw the ring in the glass, I felt you freak out. I did, too.” She’d also wanted, with every fiber of her being, to love him the way he deserved to be loved, but that wasn’t something she could control.
“Because it was me offering the ring,” he accused. “Cain’s a dead-end. You know that.”
Eve wished she was wearing something more substantial than a robe while having this conversation. “Everything about being a Mark is a dead-end, Reed. I don’t see the point of trying to have a relationship when everyone is pursuing conflicting goals. You and Alec want to advance; I want to find a way back to my old life. There’s no way to make it work.”
He rocked back on heels. His jaw set at a stubborn angle. “I want you. That works.”
Her mouth curved with wry affection. “Sexual attraction has never been our problem. You won’t hear me saying there’s anything wrong with really great sex with someone you admire and like spending time with.”
“But…?”
“But that’s not enough for me to commit to the life of a Mark, and that’s exactly what I’d be doing by committing to someone inside the system.”
“It could be hundreds of years before you earn off the mark,” he said coldly, knowing she refused to accept that possibility. “No way are you going to be celibate that whole time and you’re not the casual sex type.”
“So marriage is your solution to getting into my pants?”
Reed shrugged. “Yours are the only pants I want to get into.”
She set her flute down on her glass-topped coffee table. “Putting the whole demon-hunting lifestyle aside, we’ve got other issues. I’ve never been to your house. I don’t even know if you live in Orange County, or if you shift to some other continent for a change of clothes. We’ve never gone anywhere together that wasn’t work related; you come to my place and that’s it. You join my life when it suits you, and you disappear when it doesn’t. What we had was a working relationship with benefits.”
“Whatever, babe,” he scoffed, running a hand through his precisely cut hair. “You wouldn’t let it be more than that. Playing house is just what we need.”
Noting the sullen set of his mouth, Eve knew it was time to change the subject or argue pointlessly for hours. She took a seat on one of her cream-colored down-filled sofas. “About playing house… Explain what’s going on to me. Since when are vampyres not Infernals anymore?”
There was no outward show of it, but she felt the relief that moved through him. “Vampyres with a ‘Y’ are demons, yes. Vampires with an ‘I’ aren’t. You weren’t trained about the second kind, because Marks aren’t supposed to deal with them. You’ll be the first.”
All Marks went through a comprehensive training program, something like a boot camp for recruits. Every classification of demon was discussed in depth, with a focus on how best to kill them.
“Of course,” she said dryly, not at all surprised that she was getting stuck with another crap-tas-tic assignment. Jerking her around was Entertainment #1 for angels of all ranks. “If vampires-with-an-‘I’ aren’t demons, what are they?”
Reed adjusted his slacks and sat beside her. “You’ve been taking a crash course in the Bible since you were marked. Remember reading about the Watcher angels?”
“Two hundred angels were sent to observe human behavior, but they started fraternizing and doing other naughty things, including breeding children called Nephalim, etcetera.”
“That’s the ones. Once Jehovah saw what was going on, he sent an elite team of seraphim warriors—the Sentinels—down to punish the fallen Watchers. The Watchers lost their wings and became known as the Fallen. Wings and souls are connected, so without one they lost the other. Following?”
“Soulless, wingless fallen angels. Got it.”
He nodded. “Seraphim rely on their souls to survive. They don’t eat or drink the way mortals do. They absorb energy from the life-forces on earth.”
“So they starved to death?”
“I wish. No, they discovered they could feed from life in a more direct manner—”
“They started drinking blood,” she finished. “Okay. So there are two kinds of vamps—those who are demons and those who were angels? That’s why Adrian lives on earth? To hunt and kill the Fallen angels?”
“Jehovah has never ordered the death of an angel. Sammael wouldn’t be alive otherwise.”
“True…” Satan was thriving. And she often wondered why, but that was a question no one seemed to have an answer for.
“The Sentinels are supposed to contain the Fallen to areas where they can’t get into too much trouble.”
“And Southern California is trouble galore. How many Sentinels are there?”
“Not enough.”
“Why send in just two of us undercover then? Wouldn’t more Marks be merrier?”
“I would think so, but this isn’t my call. Marks can’t sniff out the Fallen.”
“No souls translates into no smell?”
“You got it. We can’t afford to have too many Marks tied up indefinitely, plus the cost of housing, a decent cover story, and so on. Our resources aren’t limitless.”
“So we’re hunting someone who blends perfectly into the surroundings with nothing to give them away.” She made a frustrated noise. “What’s our cover?”
“We’re Mr. and Mrs. Kline. We’re renting the resort space because I have to be in town on business and you’re a trophy wife.”
She shot him an arch glance. “You’re a bit high profile for undercover work, aren’t you?”
“I’m a traveling businessman, babe. Aside from a car in the driveway at night, I won’t be seen.”
Basically, he wasn’t assuming a cover at all, then. As long as she’d known him, he was always popping in and out. He came when she called, but otherwise, seeing him was a random thing.
Using his mal’akh gifts, Reed shifted the ring from the bottom of her glass into his hand, then slid it onto her finger. “This could be real, Eve. Think about it.”
He left without warning, disappearing before her eyes.
Eve collapsed into the sofa back with a groan.
* * *
Alec exhaled harshly and sank to the floor with his legs stretched out before him. He leaned into the shared wall between his condo and Eve’s, and closed his eyes.
Reed’s half-assed proposal had been too close for comfort.
When Eve had come knocking on Alec’s door earlier in the evening, he’d known about it even though he was far from home. She could have spoken to him through the connection between them, but she’d wanted to see him face-to-face. Ignoring that need had damn near killed him, but he’d been deep into a negotiation he couldn’t interrupt. He’d bargained with the only thing he had of value—his willingness to do the dirty jobs no one wanted to be associated with—so he could have what he wanted most.
His hand rubbed at the numbness in the center of his chest. Every day it became more difficult to remember how loving Eve felt. She’d been the only joy and comfort in his life, and she still was, but he was hollow without the ability to love her back. Lust and admiration were there, but being “just friends” with her was killing him. It was killing her, too. She was closing herself off from everyone in the marked
system, avoiding building connections in the hope that she would find the leverage to shed the mark. He’d once intended to help her, but now…
“Now, you can’t walk away,” he whispered. She couldn’t turn her back on unsuspecting mortals being preyed upon by demons, and she’d never be able to send her children to school with Infernals she couldn’t smell or identify. Reluctant as she was—and he didn’t blame her for that—she was too big-hearted to leave any underdog unprotected. No, she’d seen the darkness behind the veil and she could never un-see it.
Alec pushed to his feet. Be careful what you wish for… He’d wanted to advance to archangel and helm his own firm, but he hadn’t considered what that goal would cost him.
His humanity was slipping from him every minute and if he didn’t get Eve back, he was afraid of what he would become without her.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 3
Eve stood on the patio of her new resort condominium and watched two undercover Marks offload boxes of household goods that didn’t belong to her. Gadara had provided the furnishings from one of Arcadia Falls’ model homes for her use while undercover. The pieces were tropical in style—lots of wicker and floral patterns—which wouldn’t have been her choice but weren’t offensive either.
The condo was the middle unit of three adjacent properties. It was two-storied and sported the same red tile roof as all the other homes in the housing community. There were four available floor plans and a strict set of CC&Rs that ensured a uniform look over the entire property. The decorative lawns were all beautifully landscaped and maintained, and the streetlights resembled bamboo, which she thought was an interesting touch.