I felt it then, the hot breath along the back of my neck. Every muscle in my body tensed as I twisted at the waist, prepared to lay waste to anyone or anything—

A form came out of the smoke and fire, taking shape. It wasn’t until he was a few feet from me that I realized it was Roth.

I relaxed.

A little.

“Hell,” Roth muttered, going straight to Zayne. He dropped to his knees beside the Warden, reached for him but stopped, hands curling around empty air. “I came back as soon as I could. I...”

“He’s hurt. Bad. We need to get him out of here and get him help,” I said.

Roth glanced at me then, his amber eyes luminous, and the look he gave me robbed the air from my lungs. Everything he didn’t dare speak was in his...his pained expression. Everything I feared resided there.

Too late.

That was the look Roth gave me.

It was too late.

“No,” I whispered, trembling.

Roth’s lips parted. “I—”

Something happened right then.

It started with a shimmer of light that looked like fireflies had invaded the yard. The tiny hairs rose all over my body as Zayne lifted his head off the wall. I looked around, seeing thousands of twinkling lights, as if the stars had descended from the skies. The fires around us flickered and then went out.

Fear exploded in my gut. Not for me. Not for Zayne. But for the demon prince who was so very much unlike a demon, who loved Layla and cared enough for Zayne that he came back.

My head whipped toward where Roth crouched beside Zayne, whose eyes were closed again. “You need to go,” I told him. “Now.”

Roth was staring at the lights now, his eyes wide. “Is that...?”

“Yes.” My mouth dried. “If you stay, he will kill you. You know that, right? You can’t take him. No one can. You need to go. We’ll be okay.” I hoped at least. “But you won’t be.”

For a moment I thought Roth would argue and say something arrogant, but common sense prevailed. He seemed to know this wasn’t an Alpha that his familiar could swallow up whole. What was coming was death for him. He looked at me, nodded and then turned to Zayne. “Don’t die,” he growled. “It would upset Layla.”

And then Roth was gone, moving too fast for me to see him. Letting out a shaky breath, I focused on the twinkling lights.

“Am I... Am I seeing this?” Zayne asked, and I wasn’t even sure he was aware that Roth had been here.

“Yeah.” I swallowed.

My grip on his hand tightened as blinding white light poured into the yard, dripping from the burned trees and running down the walls of the house. It was so bright that my eyes stung and I had to look away.

I knew who it was.

I knew who was coming.

Zayne struggled to sit forward, throwing an arm back against me as he shifted his large body so that I was partially blocked. Even horrifically injured, he was trying to protect me, and I tried to tell Zayne it was okay, but then the trumpets sounded, rattling the walls and our eardrums. I winced, placing my hands over my ears as the horns blared once more. When they stopped and the light receded, Zayne was staring into the center of the yard, his spine stiff.

“Holy...” He trailed off.

Lifting my head, I lowered my hands and looked to where Zayne was staring.

He stood in the center of the driveway, his long, widespread legs encased in leather and his torso and chest shielded by golden battle armor. His arms were bare and his skin put off a luminous glow that made it difficult to tell exactly what his skin tone was. His hair was fair, brushing his shoulders, and from what I could make out of his features, he looked no older than Nicolai, though I knew he was ageless.

The air stirred as his wings lifted behind him, white and feathered, stretching at least ten feet on either side of him.

Michael, my father, sure liked to make an entrance.

“What a waste,” the archangel said as he stared at what remained of Misha.

I flinched at his words.

He walked toward us, the grounds trembling under his weight, and I realized at once why he was here.

Horror punched through my gut as I dipped under Zayne’s arm, planting myself between him and my father. “Don’t,” I said, staring up at my father. “Please don’t force this on him.”

My father halted.

I swallowed at the look on his face, one that said he was shocked that I dared to question him or stop him. “You saw what happened when you forced this bond. Please don’t do it to Zayne.” My voice shook. “Please don’t force him to take this bond.”

“What?” Zayne was leaning on his side.

“He’s going to force you to become my Protector, like he did to Misha,” I said, crouching in front of Zayne. “I will not allow it. I will not allow you—”

“You will allow nothing.” My father cut me off, his all-white eyes pulsing. “And you assume too much.”

I lifted my chin. “I don’t assume—”

“You assume too much just by speaking.” He cut me off again, focusing on Zayne. My father’s upper lip curled. “You do not impress me.”

“Good to know.” Zayne groaned as he forced himself into a sitting position. I scrambled backward, supporting his weight as he met my father’s glare.

My father continued to sneer. “Your faith in demons disturbs me greatly.”

“I...I imagine it would,” Zayne replied. “All things considered...”

The sneer faded. “But here we are, as we should have already been. The mistake was made ten years ago. It will not be made again.”

“Mistake?” At once, I remembered what Thierry and Matthew had said, what Peanut had overheard. Them speaking about a mistake. The same thing Misha had said my mother had been close to figuring out. “What mistake?”

I didn’t think my father would answer, but then he said, “Protectors are predestined at birth, linked to their charges before they even meet. They thought it was Misha based on how quickly you took to him when you first met. They were wrong.”

“They?”

“Those who have taken care of you. Thierry. Matthew.” His all white-eyes shifted to Zayne. “Your father.”

“My father?” Zayne repeated.

“Your father was supposed to retrieve her,” he said, inclining his chin toward me. “Not the half demon.”

My mouth dropped open.

Zayne shook his head, groaning at the movement. “I don’t... I don’t understand.”

“Me, neither. I mean, I get it. You’re saying I was never supposed to be bonded to Misha, then why did you bond me to him?” My thoughts raced. “Why didn’t you step in? Why—? You should’ve—”

“It was not my job to step in, nor is it your place to question what I should have or should not have done,” he said, eyes sparking white light. “I did not realize the mistake was made until after you were bonded. I decided to see what would happen.”

I was thunderstruck. “You...you decided to see what would happen?”

“After all, it must have been a part of the grand plan,” he replied, and then he shrugged, as if it was no big deal, and all I could do was stare as a shudder worked its way through me.

He didn’t even care.

He didn’t care that Misha was never supposed to be bonded to me, or that Misha was now dead. He simply just did not care.

And why was I surprised? Angels didn’t have emotions. They didn’t even have a soul, not like humans did.

My father’s shoulders straightened. “Do you, Warden, accept this bond, forsaking all others and all duties, to become her Protector until death breaks this bond?”

My breath caught.

“Yes,” Zayne groaned. “Yes, I will become her Protector.”

Panic blossomed. This was happening too fast. “Zayne—”

“Then it shall be done.” My father placed a hand on the side of Zayne’s ruined face, causing him to gasp in pain. He placed his other hand on mine, and then I felt it.

Heat rushed through his palm, in and out of me, flowing through the archangel and into Zayne. His body bowed and the grace filled him, irrevocably connecting him to me. Zayne was awash in heavenly light, completely indistinguishable. I could scarcely breathe as I felt the warmth pouring into my chest, replacing the bond once held with Misha, erasing the hollow emptiness left behind.

The pain—oh God, the pain of Misha’s betrayal was still there, but...but Zayne was there. I felt him deep inside me, taking root, his essence becoming a part of mine.

Then I felt more.

Two heartbeats instead of one. Mine. His. Together. And that...that was something I’d never felt with Misha.

When the light receded, Zayne was slumped over, his hands planted against the ground, his burned and torn skin and chest healed.

Seeing that, knowing that he was going to be okay, was almost too much to take. I started to shake.

My father leaned in, whispering in Zayne’s ear. I couldn’t hear what was said, but whatever it was caused Zayne’s eyes to widen and his gaze to swing toward me. A look of dawning understanding filled his expression. I didn’t get a chance to question what was said to him.

“Rise up.” Michael removed his hands from us. “For what has begun a millennium ago is now at the door. The Harbinger has arrived.” His voice deepened, booming like thunder, and the words he spoke sent a cold chill straight to my core. “The end is upon us. Stop it, or all mankind is lost.”

36

“Trin.”

The soft brush of fingertips against my cheek stirred me awake. I blinked open my eyes and found myself staring into Zayne’s pale blue ones fringed in thick, brown lashes. His golden skin was unmarred—not even the faintest hint of pink remained from where he’d been burned. It was almost like he’d never been hurt. Almost like last night hadn’t happened. That we didn’t go to that senator’s house and end up surrounded by demons. Almost like Misha hadn’t showed, and I...I hadn’t had to kill him. All of it felt like a nightmare, a really bad one that haunted you throughout the day, slipping in and out of your consciousness when you least expected it.