he was slammed against the ceiling, wings bending painfully along the walls to fit into the small stairwell.
The muse took off up the stairs, while he struggled for release.
That damned spell! Why had he given it to her? In full human form his brain had apparently favored the muse’s safety over his desires.
He flexed his feeble mortal muscles, but it was as if he were glued to the wall and could only wiggle the very ends of his wing tips. “Curse it all!”
Grunting and struggling, he decided if he shifted to human form completely perhaps he could loosen from the spell’s hold faster. The shift liquefied his wings and shimmered them to particles that segued to nothing. His shoulders pulled away from the ceiling, tearing out the plaster in chunks—and he dropped to land on his knees and palms.
Blinking, Samandiriel gasped in breath. He needed to breathe like the mortals, and it startled him at how difficult it was at this moment.
Why had he chosen this punishment? Walking earth? It could never match the paradise Above offered. Had his passion been so unrelenting? Or had he merely joined the pact with his brothers out of common need to belong?
We had only wanted what He gave man.
A bit out of sorts, Sam searched his recent memory to piece together why he knelt in the stairwell. A glint of black demon ash floating through the air reminded him he’d just slain a Sinistari. Over a woman.
“Cassandra.” He’d held her against the wall. Had desired her so strongly. “No, I did not. I could not.”
He scanned down the stairs. If his heart could beat, it would thunder right now because he feared what he may have done to her. He’d never wanted to scare her, to make her feel fear.
He raced up the stairs and kicked open the roof door.
Snowflakes bruised his cheeks and eyelids as they swirled and shifted in the conflicting winds. Across the roof, the muse stood at the edge, looking down, her arms stretched out for balance. Her boots stepped closer to the sky….
“Cassandra, no!”
At her side in an instant, he clasped her into his arms to keep her from jumping. The delicious warmth of her burnished his cold heart.
Saved her. Don’t want to lose her.
She struggled and kicked. He didn’t want to release her, but her scream registered the same scream he’d heard when he’d been in half form. She’d been utterly frightened then.
Humiliated by his own uncontrollable impulse, he released her and stepped away, slapping his arms across his chest. “I’m sorry, Cassandra. That wasn’t me back there. Please, you must realize that.”
She slunk down against the cinder-block border edging the roof, nodding profusely but not looking at him. She tucked her head into her palms. “I know. But you scared the crap out of me.”
“Is that reason to jump? To end it all?”
“There’s a huge snow pile from plowing out the parking lot below. I’d have landed safely.”
“I see. It still saddens me that I frightened you. What can I do to earn your forgiveness? Tell me, please, and I’ll do it.”
Cassandra, gasping and hugging herself against the cold, bent forward, long strands of hair and ribbon spilling over her face. She put up a hand to keep him away, and he respected the silent yet shaming request.
She’d just witnessed a Fallen one slay a Sinistari. Quite a lot for a mortal to take in, even one trained to expect just that thing. What, you think the vampire heart didn’t scare her?
“Oh, Sam.” Her tiny voice filled his vision with soft violet waves the color of bright summer fields. “This is all a bit crazy. I’m sure I’m not thinking right, but … bloody hell.”
She lunged forward, slipping her arms over his shoulders and hugging him tightly. “You’re the one person in this world I should stay away from, yet at the same time I want to remain next to you. It’s like I feel a compulsion of my own. It scares me.”
“Don’t be frightened.” She felt so good pressed against his bare chest. So real. “You’re strong. Trust your instincts.”
“But my screwed-up instincts tell me we need to stay together.”
“To accomplish what I’ve set out to do.”
She nodded against his neck and shivered. “Kill the Fallen.”
“And vampires, too.”
“The Sinistari were not part of your plan.”
“They are expected. When a Fallen walks the earth a Sinistari is dispatched. I don’t believe that’s the last we’ll encounter. Let’s get you inside to warm up.” He lifted her into his arms, and she allowed it.
“The way you looked at me,” she said. “It was …”
“I know. Do you have a spell against horny angels?”
She smirked and shook her head. “Just the one that traps you between wards I’ve placed in my home. But, Sam …?”
He stepped inside the stairwell and brushed aside the hair from her eyes. It felt like fine silk, too valuable to set a price to. “What is it?”
“If you did have sex with me while you were in that … form …” She winced and flashed a teary gaze at him. “Well, you know, would you try not to hurt me?”
“I will never hurt you. I vow it, because I will not again shift in your presence, demon or no demon.”
And that was all he could give her, because he didn’t know the truth himself.
Would spending more time with Cassandra build on the violent compulsion to attempt her? He must strive to remain true to his word. If he sensed the compulsion coming on, he would sooner take his own life than harm her. Yet who would save the world then?
And beyond the world, all he really wanted was to leave it and get back home.
Chapter 4
“We’ve made contact with a muse and a Fallen,” Bruce said.
“Samandiriel?”
“My men did not get the Fallen’s name, but I would assume so since that is who you recently summoned. They encountered them both on the way to set up the warehouse in Berlin.”
“A Fallen together with a muse? Was he attempting her?”
Bruce winced. Such a heartless euphemism for the vicious act of rape. His man, who had witnessed it all as a lookout on a nearby rooftop, reported to him, but hadn’t interfered because he hadn’t wanted to become ash. Or to lose his heart, which, apparently, one of them had.
“The angel was defending her against my men.”
“That’s to be expected. She is the one woman on this earth who can give him pleasure. Where are they now? In custody?”
“My man is on it.”
Which meant, they’d let them get away and now Bruce was scrambling to pick up their trail.
“The pregnant muse is Ophelia O’Malley,” he said, deciding to change the subject. “She has only been pregnant three months, but my spies say she’s waddling about like a full-term mother.”
“The nephilim’s gestation is rumored to be very short,” Antonio clarified. “As is its growth period. It’s likely the muse will give birth soon. Have you taken her into custody?”
“Working on it. Have my best team in London, where she was last seen. The muse’s sister is escorting her. And that officious Zane. Traitor.” Bruce intended to stake that bastard soon.
“He