A

maya simmered. Breaking every stitch of furniture in the room helped dial down her rage, nothing would cool her temper. All this time, Braile was inside of her, a part of her, joined to her soul. Not the tiny bit fused to each cell she was used to, but enough to fill Lake Erie!

She didn’t know who to be madder at—Michael and Braile for not telling her the truth, or herself. How could she not know when the wings were a dead giveaway? Stupid, distracted…

At some point between the last time she had a soul searching moment and today, Braile had hitched a ride. Here she was mourning him, dying inside over his death, wishing she could talk to him, needing his advice, and he was here—within her—all along.

Watching her flounder and doing nothing about it.

Watching her.

Oh, shit! Did he see me and Bane? In bed? In the shower? The blow job!

Kill. Me. Now.

Embarrassment clashed with fury. Her cheeks flamed and her stomach threatened a fire drill to evacuate the contents. Just what she needed, chunks of eggs, bacon, and toast decorating the only clothes she had. This was the last damn straw.

“Michael!” she hissed. “I know you can hear me. You get your butt down here right now!”

Nothing.

“You and Braile have manipulated me for the last time! I’m done. You hear me? Done!”

Nothing.

No Michael and not even a vague internal chuckle from Braile.

Amaya buried her fist in the nearest wall, destroying the intricate plaster and gold foil wallpaper. After a long count to twenty, she yanked her arm free and continued on.

It took another ten minutes of traveling through Malphas’s ginormous house to find everyone in the library. Good thing, because it gave her a chance to wrangle her emotions into a semblance of calm.

The gang and Malphas were gathered around a glass and chrome oblong table that didn’t quite match the old world stately feeling of the room. Huddled close together in groups of twos and threes, they studied the maps and papers strewn over the surface.

Everyone except Kushiél. He sulked at the opposite end, near the entrance. Far away from Malphas.

His brooding gaze shifted her way with a silent, “What” when she approached him.

“Did you kick his ass?” she said low for his ears alone.

The corner of his scarred lip curled into a sinister Jokeresque smile. The tats caging his mohawk seemed deeper, obsidian in the lighting. “Yes, but it wasn’t enough.” The words were nothing more than a rough rumble, and he didn’t whisper. “He must be punished.” So said the former Angel of Atonement.

Malphas snorted, though didn’t look up from his map. “Better than you have tried and failed. Though, I must thank you for the exercise. I was getting a little thick in the middle. Let me know when you’re ready for round two.” He tapped an area on the map and mumbled something but it was drowned out by Kush’s growl.

Her hackles rose from the burgeoning tension in the room. Tension coming from all quarters.

“Soon, Demon,” said Kush.

Malphas’s head snapped up, his gaze locked on Kush. “Not demon. Demoni Lord, brother.”

Brother?

Kush’s eyes glowed full red and the scar dissecting his face seemed to lengthen and widen in stark relief against his pale skin. Blades appeared in his hands and she waited for Kush to lose his shit. Kush didn’t move from his spot by the door and he didn’t rebuke Malphas’s claim.

Could it be true? Brothers? If it were true, if Malphas and Kush were brothers, that meant Malphas was brother to all the UnHallowed.

“All of you were angels,” she whispered, and Kush nodded once. “The Demoni Lords fell first, before the Great Betrayal?”

“They created the word betrayal. It’s all those scum know!” he shouted, then lowered his voice. “Never trust them. Not their words or their deeds.”

Preaching to the choir. He didn’t need to tell her the obvious. The angels were also part of her untrustworthy circle. So much for placing her faith on the side of truth and justice. Michael and Braile didn’t know the meaning of truth when they manipulated it on a whim. And as for justice… Her parents were mauled on a lonely stretch of road by Darklings. She never knew them. How’s that for justice.

But, she did trust the UnHallowed. She trusted Bane.

“Thanks for the advice.” She patted Kush’s shoulder.

He covered her hand with a callused palm. “Sharing a prison with an enemy doesn’t make him your brother.” His midnight green eyes bore into her.

So they weren’t brothers. That didn’t answer all her questions on the subject but she squeezed Kushiél’s shoulder and crossed the room.

“It’s decided.” Bane pushed away from the table and adjusted his weapons. He’d cleaned up nicely—new leathers, white tee stretched across his chest. Her imagination had her stripping him down and dragging him back to bed. Ridiculous when they had so much to do. She should be concentrating on what’s ahead, not his body or a wayward lock curled on his forehead.

Gideon and Rimmon paired off. Daghony and Zed, Tahariél and Ioath, Chay and Kush, did the same, while Gadreel moved off by himself. Malphas continued to study the map. None spoke a word to Amaya.

For a group of men who were so concerned about her earlier, they sure knew how to ignore her. “What’s decided?”

“While you were playing Sleeping Beauty we cleared all of Malphas’s holdings and properties. Those on the books and off,” Riél volunteered.

Bane came up to her. “We worked our way through his aliases and Taige’s. Got nothing until we switched to his buddy, Aiden.”

Amaya rubbed her hands together. “Alright then. Let’s do this.” She pivoted toward Malphas, expecting to hitch a ride.

Bane took her arm, his touch gentle but firm on her bicep. “You’re not going.”

Amaya drew back and met his icy blue eyes. They seemed colder, definitely colder than when he was insider her. And his lips that had kissed and teased and tortured and laughed, were now compressed into a thin, firm line. Something had changed. She glanced around the room. Each UnHallowed had the same closed expression, even Malphas, who’d finally raised his head from the maps.

Amaya tensed, prepared for anything. “What do you mean I’m not going?”

“We believe we’ve found the Spaun’s lair.”

“Great. Then let’s go kill them and be done with it.” She yanked her arm to be free, but Bane held fast.

“The last time you fainted. If you do so again in the heat of battle, it would put all of us in danger and give the Spaun exactly what they need to open the Cruor. You,” he ground out.

She stiffened. “You don’t know that.”

“You have the grace of an archangel in your veins, fused to your atoms. That’s why they attacked you in the first place.”

She glanced at Malphas, shocked she’d divulged so much. Yeah, she admitted to being a Halfling, but she can’t believe she went into details. “Then they already have what they need. I’m going.”

“That was before the wings, Amaya,” Bane stressed.

Meaning: The attack preceded her absorbing all of Braile’s grace from his burial mound.

Now she did yank free and pointed a finger in his face. “I saved your ass! All of your asses!” She speared each of the UnHallowed with a fierce glare and returned to Bane. “You need me,” she snarled.

Banked fires flared in the depths of his eyes and his entire face softened. This was the face she stared into as unspoken words passed between them. Bane nodded once. She supposed in response to her last three words, which elated her and sealed her fate. He needed her, but not as a warrior fighting beside him in danger.

But this was bigger than what they wanted. Needs fell to the wayside when the world demanded your blood, sweat and tears, demanded every atom you possessed to achieve the one goal you were born for. As Braile had proven, no sacrifice was too great in service of the greater good. She would do no less than her mentor would.

Amaya steeled her spine and locked her emotions down. “Just because we had sex, doesn’t give you the right to tell me what I can and cannot do.”

A long—painful—pause stretched the silence between them and everyone in the room. She didn’t break contact with Bane, yet she felt communication between the UnHallowed as if there were tangible wires strung between their bodies. What were they saying? They couldn’t agree with his bullshit decision. Repeatedly, she’d proven herself. How much proof did they need to realize she wasn’t a distraction, she could hold her own and deliver.

Voice grave, Bane said, “You’re not a part of UnHallowed. So I can’t tell you where to go, but know none of us will help you. None of us will tell you where we are going and none of us want you there.”

Well if that wasn’t a slap in the face. In one fell swoop, he officially claimed leadership of the UnHallowed, what he’d wanted all along, and cut her out. From savior to liability in three days.

Her gaze veered away from Bane. Each UnHallowed—Daghony, Kush, Chay, Gadreel, Zed, Ioath, Rimmon, and lastly, Riél—met her anger with cool resolve. The bastards. Fine. I don’t need them.

She turned to Malphas and found the same expression draping his arrogant face.

Amaya rounded on Bane, fists clenched. “So now you speak for all of them?” She clapped once. “Congratulations.”

“Amaya—”

“You finally got what you’ve wanted, leadership of the UnHallowed. Does that make you an archangel now? Your wings should appear at any moment, right? Or will you be stealing mine?”

One by one the UnHallowed entered the shadows, dismissing her. Malphas departed last, leaving by a dimensional pocket without a final glance.

Amaya and Bane were the only two left.

She squared off against him, hurt, betrayed. He usurped her in a misguided attempt to protect her fragile feminine senses. He didn’t get it. She didn’t need his protection. Not when they first met in that abandoned house in Detroit, and not now. She opened her mouth, ready to spew more hate.

“I love you.”

Her mouth closed with an audible snap. Oh Shit. Did the world just tilt or was that her senses reeling from the unexpected blow to the temple?

“Watching you collapse at my feet, not knowing what was wrong, was worse than any pain I’d ever experienced, even in the bowels of Hell. Knowing you put yourself at risk, pushed yourself beyond your limits, which could’ve cost your life… It’s unacceptable.” Crimson flared in his eyes, shattering his cool façade. “I will do what’s necessary to protect you. So go ahead. I’m prepared for anything you have to say, but it won’t change my decision.”

She sputtered, her breath trapped in her chest. “You-you can’t throw out ‘I love you’ like a gauntlet. And who gave you the right to decide anything for me!”

He took her arms. She yanked away. He cupped her face, and stared into her eyes.

His touch grounded her, made the anger ebb. She knocked his hands away, but Bane wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his body. He surrounded her—his warmth, his strength, his scent.

She wanted to be free as much as she wanted to stay. Unable to decide, her fingers curled into his leather coat.

“You are my Heaven,” he whispered into her hair.

“I-I-” Her brain refused to form a coherent thought so she could string together the proper words to form a sentence.

He tipped her chin up and brought her lips to his. Amaya clung, fisted his coat, and held on tight. She kissed him back with everything she couldn’t say, poured it in their connection. She felt him going, fading in her embrace.

She held on tighter, determined to keep him with her. Bane pulled away, breaking their kiss. His heated gaze roamed her face, lingered on her lips, met her eyes again—then he was gone in a swirling wave of shadows that swept over him, curled away from touching her, and vanished.