The sofa dipped to my right and then my left. Did I want company? I was torn, but then Mal’s character joined me on screen.

“Looks like you could use a hand,” he said.

Pfft. I was kicking butt and taking hides, but whatever.

Azazel was silent, watchful to my left. I flicked a quick look at his face to find him focused intently on the screen.

“What is this?” he asked eventually.

“It’s a game, old man,” Mal said. “Technology, you know that thing they have in the human world and the progressive cities of the Underealm. If you ventured out of the dark ages once in a while, you’d know.”

“I prefer the old ways.”

I sliced off a wolf’s head and picked up a violet shard as a reward.

“Nice,” Mal said.

“You can be any avatar?” Azazel asked.

I nodded. “There are seven classes to choose from, and you customize from there.”

He was silent for a long beat. “Interesting.”

I slid another glance his way. He was watching the screen almost longingly. Had he played games in his life? How long since he’d been a child? He was Lilith’s son. Centuries-old. Had she cuddled him, rocked him, or had she handed him over to her blade to train into an assassin so that she could use him when the time came?”

I hit pause on the game.

He frowned and tore his gaze from the screen and fixed it on me. “You no longer wish to play?”

I smiled and accessed the new player screen. “Oh, I’m gonna play, and so are you. But first, we need to create you a character.”

Mal was still beside me. Was he holding his breath?

I raised a brow at Azazel. “Unless you’re too scared to try?”

Azazel’s beautiful lips curved in a smile that brought out his dimples and stalled my heart. “I’m much too old for your reverse psychology, Fee, but I’ll play because it looks amusing.”

Mal let out a slow breath. “Looks like we’re gonna need some snacks.”

I set up Azazel in the character customizing screen—he picked up the controls super quick—and I left him to fiddle while I went in search of Mal.

I found him in the kitchen, standing with his back to me, hands braced on the counter in front of him, head bowed. A soft red glow emanated from his right hand.

“Mal?” I took a step toward him.

He tucked his glowing hand into his pocket and turned to face me. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

I looked down at his pocket. “Why is your hand glowing?”

“Heh, I was hoping you missed that.” He pulled his glowing hand from his pocket and flexed his fingers. The glow slowly ebbed. “Souls that need a trip to purgatory.”

“Your staff has souls in it?”

He winced. “Please, Fee, no lectures, okay. I know I’m supposed to take the rippers and the malignant straight to purgatory when I collect them, but I fucking hate that place.”

So, he was avoiding.

He winced again. “Thing is, there’s only so long you can hold off on transferring the buggers before it gets … uncomfortable.”

His tone was light, matter-of-fact, but there was an edge of darkness in his emerald eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d call it fear.

“Mal—”

His expression hardened, and so did his tone. “I don’t want to talk about it. The big P is an off-limits topic.”

I flinched.

He took a deep breath. “So, what about Az, eh? You know, I’ve asked him to play with me several times.” He smiled suggestively. “He always turns me down. He’d rather hunt outliers who break the laws, or putter around his chambers. You know he occupies most of the fourth floor? Momma’s favorite.” He was rambling. “But yeah, he never wants to just hang out. I didn’t think he knew how. But then you ask, and boom, he’s all dimples.”

He was covering. Diverting from the whole purgatory thing. To press or not to press. I decided to give him a pass this time. After all, he’d advocated telling me the truth when Conah wanted to hide it. Plus, there was no ignoring the underlying desperation in his tone, no ignoring the edge of fear, and that frightened me more than anything because Mal wasn’t afraid. Mal was cocky, sure, and confident.

“I guess he’d rather play with you,” Mal continued with a shrug. “Not that I blame him.”

I opted for taking his cue.

Injecting a teasing tone into my voice, I peered up at him through my lashes. “Well, I am prettier than you.” I wiggled my brows. His throat bobbed, and his brows pinched. “More charming, intelligent, better company, and—”

He fisted the front of my shirt, yanked me to him, and crushed his lips against mine. My mouth parted on instinct to accept his tongue, and then my hands were sliding into his hair, fingers sliding through silk, caressing his scalp as our tongues wrestled. Fuck, he had luscious lips, and his hair felt like heaven between my fingers. He tasted like sherbet—tart but compelling, and I wanted to eat him up.

He broke the kiss and pushed me away slightly, his eyes bright as they looked down on my warm face. Kissing him was like drowning but not giving a shit about air, but surfacing was painful. Seeing the agony on his face was torment.

“Fuck, Fee.” He raked my face with his gaze. “I like you. I really fucking do.” His mouth turned down in anguish, and then he stepped around me and opened the nearest cupboard. “Looks like we’re out of the crisps you like.” His voice shook a little.

I cracked my shields and bit back a gasp at a cacophony of feelings that washed over me. The most poignant of all, the sharpest of them all, was the cutting sorrow that sliced into my chest like an obsidian dagger.

“Popcorn okay?” This time his tone was light and cheery, even as his sorrow intensified.

Tears pricked my vision, and I slammed down my shields. Oh, God. How did he do that? How did he pretend? What was he hiding? I wanted to push, to ask, but instinct warned me to hold off. To wait until he was ready.

“Fee?”

“Uh-huh.” I nodded. “Popcorn is fine.”

He didn’t turn to look at me.

I was glad because I needed a minute. Just one minute.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Mal

It’s the sweetest hour of my life and the most painful. Being that close to her and inhaling her unique scent. Watching her laugh as we pummel the fuck out of the enemy on screen and seeing Azazel relax for the first time in fucking forever, all the while knowing that it won’t last—not for me.

I close my bedroom door and strip off as I pad toward my bed. Her face fills my vision. Her big blue eyes so filled with compassion. Eyes that darken with desire when I touch her, and those lips, those fucking plump, pillowy lips that were made to be kissed. I touch my mouth with my fingertips then sweep my tongue over my bottom lip. I can still taste her. Sweet like the juice of a ripe pomegranate.

The bed dips beneath me as I lay down and close my eyes.

Fee is a breath of fresh air. A wake-up call for us all. We’ve been living by rote for so long, going slowly numb, and then she comes in—a beautiful rose with thorns that prick us into wakefulness, that make us feel again. I thought Conah was a fool at first. Mooning over her.

She’s nothing special, I told him. Lie. Big fat lie. Fee makes me feel more than the urge to fuck. She makes me want to connect, and that’s dangerous. Connections are dangerous because connections bring hope, and there can be no hope for the likes of me.

I’m on borrowed time.

Time that’s running out faster since she came along. Since she made me feel. I have no right to feel. I need to stop. I need to fucking stop wanting shit I can’t have.

Another face fills my vision. Gailan. My soulmate. My best friend. He died because of me. I was meant to be with him, but I chose to lose myself between creamy thighs, and while I was rutting the night away, my soulmate was murdered.

My fault.

My curse is fitting. Fuck to live, Mal. Fuck, but never connect.

I deserve the curse, and I don’t deserve her.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I finished tying my hair into a knot at the base of my skull and strapped on my comm. Uriel hadn’t been in touch about the book yet, and that bugged me. We had no idea what the Dread wanted, but here we were, headed in to break up a meeting and hopefully eliminate a Hive. Except Dread didn’t go down easy. Only beheading one with a scythe could kill it dead. A regular reaper could only hope to slow it down. Tonight, the killing would be up to me and the guys. The reapers were there to keep the Dread busy until we got to them.

“Are you okay?” Cora asked from her cross-legged spot on my bed.

For a moment I’d forgotten she was there. “I’m good.”

My comm beeped with a message from Mal. They were ready to leave.

“Any news on the DNA test results?” Cora asked.

“The results should come back today. That’s what Conah said earlier.” I zipped up my boots and headed for my bedroom door.

“Fee, wait.” Cora gripped my arm. “What if a Loup sees you, senses you while you’re out there?”

“Gah, Cor. Don’t. I’m shitting myself as is. But I’ve been out there several times and engaged with Loups, I’ll be fine. The guys are probably wrong anyway.” My reasoning made me feel a whole lot better. “I certainly don’t feel wolfy.”

Cora frowned. “Babe, I have a bad feeling about tonight.”

My stomach churned. “It will be fine. We each have a team of reapers with us. Trained, kick-ass reapers.”

“But you have no idea how many Dread will be at this meeting.”

She had a point. “We’ll be fine. Conah will scope it out before we go in.”

“I want to come.”

I stared at her. “What? No.”

She shook her head. “Fuck you, Fee, I don’t need your permission. I’m coming. I can be helpful. Besides, the Dread can’t hurt me. I’m a tulpa.”