For the second time in the last three weeks, I shot from sleep to hyperawareness in a heartbeat. I used the same carefulness as before, practice keeping me from moving or altering my breathing. I didn’t gasp or twitch and remained in place as I let my senses absorb the sounds and scents in the room. My wolf growled, constantly on edge since we’d claimed Bry as our own.

The whistle of the wind and rustle of leaves were familiar. As were the delicate flavors of my natural scent and the new aromas of powder and baby that permeated my space.

And yet… What yanked me from slumber?

Nothing in my room.

Silently I rolled from bed, not making a sound as I placed my feet on the cool floor or when unsheathing the twelve-inch blade that rested on my bedside table. I’d prefer one of my swords, but age taught me a shorter knife was better for close quarters. If I truly needed other weapons, I had enough stashed throughout the house to meet my wants.

Remaining quiet, I padded across the room and carefully stepped into the bathroom. We’d converted my space to be a pass-through bathing area, installing a doorway that led directly into Bry’s room on the other side. I wanted him as close as possible and my fathers convinced me the baby needed a room of his own as much as I did.

Did I really want a kid toddling around with a two-and-a-half-foot sword?

The point had been taken and work began immediately.

Now I cursed myself for allowing Bry out of my sight. First, I’d check on the boy and then I’d seal him in as I hunted the source of my unease. He’d be inaccessible to anyone but my family and those who lived within the house. Momma R promised and Uncle Luc gave me his assurances as well.

Your baby will be safe, infans.

I paused in the doorway to Bry’s room and allowed my gaze to scan the interior. No sense in chopping the kid into pieces in the off chance he’d suddenly learned to walk. My fathers said I’d started stumbling around overnight and I still wasn’t sure if they were kidding or being serious. Considering my parents’ identities, it was a toss-up.

When my attention settled on the crib, my heart froze, squeezing as my lungs refused to grant me air.

He was still the tall imposing presence I recalled. The same yet different. His hair was longer, brushing the base of his neck. His skin was darker than I remembered and his back… Shirtless, I noted the markings that now covered the skin. Midnight black wings were etched into his flesh. Almost like a tattoo, but I knew better. I knew what they represented.

He’d fallen. Irrevocably fallen from grace and into my uncle’s clutches.

“Sam,” I whispered.

He didn’t jolt or twitch when I spoke. So he knew I’d been standing there. What would he do now? Was he so far gone that he’d hurt…

Sam turned his head, his glowing red-eyed gaze meeting mine over his shoulder and his lips tipped up in a small grin. “Hello, Caith.”

My wolf howled for Sam, calling to him, beckoning him to come to me and finish our mating.

“What are you doing here?” I took a step into the room, fist still tight around the blade’s handle. He was Sam, or was he? There was no telling when a gel was this far gone, this fast.

His back rippled, those midnight wings sliding under his skin. The markings, the tattoo, was merely a veil that hid them from prying eyes. If he whipped his shirt off amongst the human population, they’d be seen as tattoos and nothing more.

Tweens knew better.

Sam returned his attention to Bry and my gut clenched. Would he harm the baby?

“He’s beautiful. Perfect. I’m glad you have him.”

Could dark angels experience that emotion? I’d hardly ever come into contact with them. Uncle Luc always kept those gels far from me. It didn’t matter that he was the ultimate fallen angel himself. He didn’t want me tainted with those beings.

“Where have you been?” My words beat at the quiet and I took another step forward. His back undulated once again.

“He’ll have a hard time. It’s good that he gave him hellfire.”

“Why did you leave?” Another step and his scent caressed me.

It still held a hint of sweetness, a lingering flavor of his connection to On High. On its heels came a blinding rush of sulfur and heat that nearly sent me to my knees. It was strong, stronger than Uncle Luc’s. Was this why I was never exposed to the angels who’d embraced my uncle’s life? Uncle Luc had to be able to control the feelings, the sensations, but his newest gel obviously couldn’t.

Sam reached into the crib and lifted the thin blanket that Bry had kicked off during sleep. “He’s not as hot blooded as you. You need to keep him covered.”

I shot forward and wrapped my hand around his wrist, stilling his movements. Not because I was afraid he’d harm the baby—I didn’t sense violent intent in my mate—but because I wanted answers. Not commentary on Bry.

“What’s going on, Sam?” I hissed, conscious of the sleeping child.

Those flaming eyes met mine, the fires of Hell twirling in their depths. His mouth remained frustratingly closed and not a sound came from him. He wasn’t going to answer.

Heat coated the skin beneath my palm, warming further and further the longer I held him fast.

“You think hellfire is going to make me release you? I’m made of it.” I curled my lip. “You need to think of something else to get rid of me. I want answers.”

He remained quiet and the heat continued to rise. It didn’t emanate from his whole body, didn’t sear the air with its intensity. No, it was focused on our connection. I kept my gaze locked on his, intent and focused and refusing to budge until he spoke.

“I deserve to know, Sam. Your mate deserves to know what’s happened.” I snarled the words, keeping them low but no less threatening.

The dancing fire in his gaze stuttered, the swirling dance flickering with indecision before Hell took over once again. He still had feelings then. True feelings for me that hadn’t been extinguished in the ninth circle.

Yet he wouldn’t speak. Not a single syllable as more and more fire lapped at my palm. It was warm, but no worse than my own heat. It almost felt good. Soothing and relaxing. A piece of home.

“Let go, Caith.” Three words I refused to heed.

Seconds ticked past, one turning into two, turning into four and… It wasn’t soothing any longer. No, it… hurt. Why did it hurt? I was hellborn. It shouldn’t hurt. My inner demon should welcome a piece of home and yet…

The scent of burning flesh pierced the air as a debilitating wave of pain struck me. It bolted up my arm and wrapped itself around my chest, squeezing tightly until my body moved without thought. My fingers uncurled from Sam’s wrist and I clutched it to my body, cradling the injured limb. I glanced at that part of me and was shocked to see the blackened, charred flesh. He’d… burned me.

Burned me.

Sam didn’t say a word or even react to my pain, to the injury he’d caused. No, his attention remained rapt on Bry. He brushed a single finger across the baby’s forehead with a few murmured words.

Two intersecting lines. The sign for On High.

With that gentle movement, a whisper of Sam’s sweet scent drifted to the child and I realized whatever hint of goodness that’d remained in my mate was now gone. He blessed Bry with his last connection to On High.

For me.

He couldn’t be emotionless, uncaring, if he’d sacrifice that lasting morsel on my behalf. Or could he?

He silently turned his back to me and padded toward the double doors that led to the balcony. They stood wide, allowing the night’s air to drift into the room. He paused at the railing, tilting his head back to stare at the night sky.

I carefully made my way toward him, fighting to ignore the pain that lingered as my wolf fought to heal the damage.

Sam breathed deeply, his ribs expanding with the movement and his wings strained against the flesh keeping them captive. He tilted his head to the side, baring his throat to the darkness much like wolves when showing submission.

“I still feel him breathing down my neck. His disapproval. His anger.” His voice was hoarse and deep.

“Why?” That was my only question and yet it represented so many others.

Why did you leave?

Why didn’t you come back?

Why won’t you stay?

No, there was one more.

Don’t you want me?

“Agreement of sorts, remember?” He took another deep breath, his skin thinning with the constant pressure of his wings. Sam focused on me, eyes blazing brighter than before. “Goodbye, Caith.”

My name was no more than a whisper and then he was gone. He leapt into the sky, midnight wings bursting from his back and carrying him higher and higher into the air. He was silent in his tainted departure, not a sound from his wings slicing through the wind.

I stood, watching as he left me, flying farther away with every beat of my heart. I remained in place, eyes tracking his path as he skimmed the trees behind my home and then banked left, wings spread as he slowly made his turn.

I didn’t move when the air cooled or when the wind picked up speed and pulled at my hair, tugging it with its insistent battering. I didn’t move as the sun rose and glinted off my small lake. Nor did I move as the day brownies went into motion, preparing for their lessons and apprenticeships throughout town.

It wasn’t until a familiar presence, a scent I knew as well as my own, reached me that I went into motion.

The lean body that stopped at my side was so different from me and yet somehow the same. A feature here and there matched perfectly, just enough to reveal we were mother and daughter.

“Did you know?” My words were hoarse from my constant, silent crying.

“Yes.” A single word that tore at my heart.

“And you didn’t think you should’ve told me?” Anger burned hot and fast in my soul.

“You, in your pretty tween, fail to realize that we are not you. You cannot apply your tween feelings to Hell. It will only hurt you and, at my core…” My mother turned her head and I did the same, our gazes collided. “At my core, I love your pain.”

I couldn’t withhold the sob that clogged my throat. Not the first or the second or even the third. They were wrenched from my heart and thrown into the morning air.

“Get out,” I shoved the words past trembling lips.

“I came to—”

“Get the fuck out of my house!” I roared the words, uncaring that I would wake Bry or the entire town.

My mother’s face was a blank mask. “I—”

“I never want to see you or Lucifer again. Leave.” Asael turned on her heel to depart, but I wasn’t done. “Orlando is off-limits to dems. All of them. If I find one, if I catch even a hint of evil lingering in my town, I will come down and destroy Hell with my bare hands.” I let the fire that burned deep leap to the surface. “Now go.”

I didn’t watch her leave and tried to banish the memories, the laughs and happiness I shared with my uncle, from my mind. It wasn’t real. None of it was real. Centuries of… nothingness.

A soft whine followed by a low sniffle reached out for me. I spun and hurried to the crib. Ignoring the throbbing that still punished my hand, I scooped Bry into my arms and held him close.

“Shh… I have you, sweet boy. Tempmomma has you.” I pressed a kiss to his head and inhaled the sweet scent of baby, the clean flavors of purity. “I have you.”

And I wouldn’t let him go. Ever.

I carried the baby to the changing table and went through the motions of changing him, tugging his diaper off, cleaning him, and replacing it. It wasn’t until I went to toss away the soiled diaper that I noticed the mark.

Pale white wings aflame with the blackest fire.

Goodness hidden beneath the weight of evil.

The burn had charred my palm and sent agony through my body while the attack shattered my heart and pummeled my soul, but the mark…

The mark gave me hope.

* * *

Did you enjoy your introduction to Caith’s world? Don’t miss out on the other Caith Morningstar novels.

- I can handle the blood, gore, and frustration, but can I deal with the pain of loving—possibly losing—the angel Samkiel? Probably not, but I’m gonna try anyway.

- I lost Sam once and survived. The question now is whether I can survive losing both of the men I love most?  Or rather, will the world survive?

- Now I’m running, I’m killing, I’m saving the world, and I’m… trying to hang on to my angelic mate, Sam.  I’m pretty sure I’m going to fail at one of those. I just hope it’s not Sam.

* * *