I looked up at the seven gods sitting on their seven thrones. This was the Council of Gods, the gods who ruled over the Earth. Nero knelt before them, and I followed his lead.

“Rise,” said the goddess who sat on the center throne.

She had to be Valora, I thought as we rose to our feet. Valora, the Queen Goddess, leader of the gods’ council and ruler of heaven. She looked exactly as I’d always imagined a goddess would look: tall and slender with long, golden curls that fell across her face and cascaded down her back. Her dress was white silk with gold stitching and tiny diamond beads. The skirt was made of airy chiffon that flowed and floated in the breeze.

Her fingernails were perfectly shaped. They were colored just the right shade of pink to look natural, yet more perfect than nature could ever create. It was like she’d been born with a manicure. She wore light golden slippers with beaded pearls. A gold drop necklace with a single diamond accented her dress’s low neckline, and her tiara made her hair sparkle. Gold and white, diamonds and pearls—that was the Queen Goddess.

“Nero Windstriker has completed the trials. The gods will now pass judgment.” Valora looked at Ronan, who sat to her immediate right. “What says the God of Earth’s Army?”

Earth’s Army. That was another name for the Legion of Angels.

Ronan’s throne wasn’t made of crystals or gems. It was made of beautifully-crafted dark metal. It had the mark of a weapon smith, not a jeweler. Such smooth and perfect lines—such balance, such fierce beauty. Soft light reflected off his throne, making it appear almost liquid. Like a molten river of metals flowing in perfect harmony, in constant, fluid motion.

Ronan was not dressed in the battle leather he’d worn the last time we’d met, but instead in a tunic and pants made of midnight silk. His clothes were still cut very much like a suit made for battle. He certainly stood out next to Valora in her soft, flowing lines and delicate chiffons.

“Nero Windstriker demonstrated uncommon skill and reclaimed the City of Ashes in record time and without any casualties,” said Ronan. “There is no question that he should be promoted.”

I turned at the sound of a harsh, dissenting grunt. It had come from a god dressed in a very similar Battlefield-in-the-Ballroom outfit, also made of dark silk. His hair was even darker, nearly black.

Valora turned her head toward him. “Faris, do you have something to say, or did you just swallow a fly?”

I’d never met the gods before, but I did know their names. Everyone on Earth knew their names. Faris was the God of Heaven’s Army; his soldiers were all gods. They fought in battles against demons and other unearthly beings. I’d heard there were many such armies, at least one on every world the gods ruled.

Faris looked at Ronan. “You’ve gone soft, Ronan. Is this you speaking or your half-breed lover?”

Ronan’s face was as hard as granite, void of emotion. He looked at Faris with total and complete indifference. “Colonel Windstriker’s performance warrants a promotion. The Legion needs more and stronger angels. You have only your own failures to blame, Faris. If your army hadn’t lost against the demons at the battle of—”

Valora held up her hands. “We will discuss this later, gentlemen. The topic of this session is Colonel Windstriker’s trials.”

“Let’s discuss that.” Faris’s hard eyes turned on Nero. “Tell us, Colonel Windstriker, what was the purpose of the trials in the City of Ashes?”

“To restore the magic barrier around the city and reclaim it from the plains of monsters,” Nero replied in a crisp and practiced soldier’s voice.

“But the mission turned out to be more problematic, didn’t it?” said a goddess dressed in a beautiful outfit that reminded me of the witches’ attire.

She wore a brown corset crisscrossed with gold ribbons—and tall leather boots under a skirt that was short in the front and feathered out to a train in the back. Her dark hair was twisted up onto her head, styled in an ornate design decorated with gems and feathers. This must have been Meda, the Goddess of Technology.

“Yes, the city’s Magitech generator was corrupted with weak, decaying magic that was slowly spilling across the continent’s greater grid,” Nero told her. “That contamination would eventually bring down the entire system. The barriers would fall, and monsters would flood into every city in North America. There was no way to disconnect the tainted generator from the grid. Our only option was to push so much magic into it that it burned the contaminated magic away. Which is what we did. The monsters were purged from the City of Ashes, and the corrupted magic in the generator was destroyed.”

“And how did you fix the Magitech generator without your magic, Colonel?” asked a goddess who looked exactly like Meda.

If it hadn’t been for their different dresses, I wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart. Meda’s twin wore a long, blue gown accented with strips of gems. A long cape poured off her shoulders like a waterfall. Like Meda, who wore a belt of tools at her waist, this goddess had a belt full of potions and medical instruments. She was obviously Maya, the Goddess of Healing and Meda’s twin sister.

“We channeled the magic from a seal that locked a treasure vault hidden beneath the city,” Nero told her.

Maya nodded. “Very clever.”

“No.”

The word echoed off the columns, magnified by magic. It was spoken by a god dressed in long robes. His robes bore some resemblance to the clothing worn by the Pilgrims, the preachers of the faith, often referred to as the voice of the gods. This god’s robes were not plain and humble, however; they shimmered green and blue, as though gemstones had been crushed into the fabric. His sandals were gold, his hair paler than mine, and his nose proud. Zarion, the God of Faith, Lord of the Pilgrims.

“The trials were designed to test an angel’s commitment to protect the Earth,” he told Nero with a disapproving sneer. “Your willingness to sacrifice that which you love most for the greater good.” His haughty gaze shifted from Nero to the other gods. “Colonel Windstriker cheated.”

“It was an act of brilliance and creativity. Something you wouldn’t appreciate, Zarion.” Meda’s full lips broke into a smirk that was almost human.

Zarion ignored her. “Colonel Windstriker is not an idiot. He knew very well the purpose of these trials and what we were really testing. True, he may have saved the city. He may have followed the letter of the law, but not the spirit.” Zarion pounded his fist against the palm of his other hand. “It was an act of defiance. Of blasphemy.”

Maya rolled her eyes. “Calm down, Zarion. No one is spitting on your holy pages this time.”

Meda snickered.

“I must agree with Zarion,” the seventh god finally spoke.

He wore robes too, but his weren’t shimmery or ostentatious. They were quite plain actually. It was what he wore over the robes that made them extraordinary. Flowering vines crisscrossed his chest, twisting around his shoulders and down his arms. A dozen Monarch butterflies sat on his shoulders, slowly pumping their wings. This was none other than Aleris, the God of Nature. He spoke to flora and fauna alike. He even whispered to the weather.

“Life and death are a part of life, even immortal life,” Aleris said. “Colonel Windstriker found a cheat, a way to avoid the natural order of things. This test was about his willingness to do what it takes to protect the Earth. But he didn’t make a choice. He got everything: his lover and the world.”

“Yes. That’s exactly it.” Zarion nodded. “To borrow a human expression, he wanted to have his cake and eat it too.”

Ok, that was it. I could listen to this nonsense no longer. I stepped forward. “I wouldn’t borrow expressions from the misguided naysayers of humanity. Of course Nero wanted his cake and to eat it too. If I get a cake, what am I going to do with it? Put it in a glass case up on a pedestal and throw it longing looks throughout the day? No, if I get a cake, I’m damned well going to eat it. There is a purpose for cake in the universe, and that’s for it to be eaten. There’s nothing more natural than that.”

Zarion gave his hand a dismissive wave. “You were not given permission to speak, girl. Especially not to speak such nonsense.”

The God of Faith might have been irked by my words, but Maya and Meda sure looked amused. Ronan remained perfectly stoic; I wondered if he had any other expression. I didn’t look at Nero. I didn’t have to. I could feel his stare burning through the back of my head.

But I was too upset to stop now. I turned to Aleris. His frown was more reflective than angry. Maybe I could win him over.

“This whole test is a cheat,” I said. “It’s a setup. It’s as unnatural as things get. Those monsters aren’t natural. They don’t belong in a human city. So when Nero ‘cheated’, he was just besting you at your own rules. And, let’s be honest, that’s what’s really got your back up. He won at a game that was designed to make him lose no matter what he did.”

Zarion looked ready to smite me—or do whatever it was that angry gods did. But Valora spoke first.

“Nyx was right,” the Queen Goddess said to Ronan. “She is lively.” She met my eyes for a brief moment, then addressed the other gods. “Now we shall vote.” There was a note of power in her voice, leaving no room for disagreement. “Should Colonel Windstriker be promoted for success or executed for failure?”

Dread sank like a stone in my stomach. I hadn’t realize that was the other side of the Gods’ Trials. I should have known, though. With the gods, it was all extremes. Reward or death. I wondered if I’d even helped at all by speaking out.

Valora looked at Ronan.

“Promote,” he replied. “Colonel Windstriker has been a valuable angel. Without him, the Legion will be weaker, less equipped to fight the darkness that lingers at the horizon.”

“Promote,” said Meda. “I was impressed by his ingenuity.”

“And by his compassion,” Maya agreed. “As well as his ability to surprise us. He and Leda are a powerful and resourceful team, even without their magic.”

I had the feeling that the two sisters often saw eye-to-eye. Three votes yes. I almost dared feel hopeful.

“You have given me something to think about,” Aleris told me. “But it will require much reflection. I cannot vote to promote at this time, though I do not believe Colonel Windstriker should be executed either. I must abstain.”

“Execute for blasphemy,” Zarion declared.

What a shock.

Valora spoke next. “As explosive as Zarion is, I cannot argue that he has a point. As Queen, I must uphold the laws, both as they are written and the spirit of them. And you failed the test we gave you, Colonel Windstriker. I must vote for execution.”

Vicious delight danced across Zarion’s face.

Now I was starting to get worried. Three for Nero. One abstained. Two against. Faris was the last one to vote, and he didn’t seem to be a fan of Nero—or of Ronan either. So when he voted against Nero, what would happen? Would Aleris be forced to vote in order to break the tie? He was obviously someone who didn’t change his opinion quickly, so if he had to vote, he’d go against us.

Valora looked at the God of Heaven’s Army. “Faris?”

Faris rose from his throne. He looked fully prepared to take a victory lap over Nero’s grave. “It’s no secret that I don’t approve of the way Ronan runs his Legion. He allows the angels far too much leeway. He doesn’t have them fully in check, and as a result, he has lost many of them to the demons. Colonel Windstriker is just the latest example of an angel out of control, breaking the rules, defying us.”

He was going to condemn Nero to death. I just knew it. I steeled myself for a fight. A fight against the gods. This was completely insane. Against seven gods, Nero and I didn’t have a chance, not without our magic. Hell, we wouldn’t even have a chance with our magic.

“However…”

The room echoed with that single word. My fists relaxed slightly. I held my breath.

“There is much more to take into account,” Faris continued. “Colonel Windstriker and Leda Pierce have saved this world countless times. As much as their methods annoy me, I cannot deny that they are effective. The Earth would be less safe without their watchful, tenacious eyes. It would be a gross oversight on my part to rob humanity of some of its best defenders. Furthermore, the treasury of ancient immortal artifacts they uncovered will greatly enrich my army’s powers. So I see no other option but to promote.”

Zarion jumped to his feet and shouted, “You are only voting that way to spite me! Like you always do.”

Faris’s smile was as cold as winter’s breath. “Not only to spite you, Brother. I gave several other reasons.”

Magic flared up around Zarion, a gold and crimson halo of fury. It burned so bright, so blinding, that I had to shield my eyes.

“Enough,” Valora’s voice cut through his halo like a hot knife. “The votes have been cast. The Council has voted to promote Nero Windstriker.”

Zarion’s halo faded. A clear chalice with a gold handle materialized in Valora’s hands. I recognized the drink inside, that liquid silver. It was pure Nectar, the food of the gods. I’d seen it once before—when Harker had tried to get me to drink it shortly after I’d joined the Legion. Drinking this Nectar would make Nero an archangel, the highest level of angel. It was as close to a god as any of us ever would be. If he survived. At the declaration that we would not be executed, my racing pulse had calmed, but it spiked again now.

Ronan took the chalice from Valora. He walked down the seven steps to us, handing the chalice of pure Nectar to Nero. He turned to me. A second chalice appeared in his hand. The Nectar inside glistened like a sunset.

“For your part in recovering the lost immortal treasures, for your part in the birth of a new archangel, Leda Pierce, I, Ronan, the God of War, Lord of the Legion of Angels, am promoting you to the fifth level.” He handed me the chalice of sunset Nectar. “We are intrigued with you—and look forward to see what you will do in the future.”

Ronan ascended the steps and took his seat. All the gods were sitting on their thrones now, looking down on us. I had to admit it was unnerving. I’d thought I would have more time to train, to prepare for this. What if I wasn’t ready?

Nero set his hand on my arm, turning me toward him. “You are ready.” He didn’t need magic to know what I was thinking. I guess it was all out there on my face—my uncertainty, my fear.

I put on a brave smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” I lifted my chalice. “Cheers.”

We clinked glasses, then I emptied the Nectar in one go. That was the only way to do it—quickly, before I had a chance to panic. The Nectar slid down my throat, as smooth as honey.

A surge of heat flashed through my body like wildfire, pushing out the cold that had suppressed my magic. It ignited my powers one by one, skill by skill. I felt my magic returning to me, filling that emptiness inside of me. Like a rollercoaster rolling faster and faster, magic exploded inside of me, and my knees gave out.

Nero caught me. His hands burned against the naked skin on my shoulders. “Steady.”

My eyes panned up the ripped and rugged contours of his chest. My fingers followed, snagging on a slash in his jacket.

“We need to heal you,” I said, feeling dizzy.

“I’m fine now.”

I peeled back the fabric and, sure enough, his skin was perfectly smooth. Any cuts he’d once had were gone now. My gaze lifted, meeting eyes that burned with green fire.

There was a flash of magic, and then we were somewhere else. Somewhere dark. I blinked, my supernatural senses slowly returning to me.

We were back in New York, I realized. I recognized the alleyway, even at this late hour. I’d once cornered a pair of rogue vampires here. We were only a block away from the Legion’s New York office. The gods had sent us back here, just like that.

“How do you feel?” I asked Nero.

“Alive.” His fingers stroked down my arms.

Goosebumps prickled up on my skin, responding to his soft caress. “It was hard for you without your magic.”

“That was nothing compared to the fear that I’d lose you. Down in the city. Then up in the gods’ court.”

“You looked ready for a fight,” I commented.

“So did you.”

“No one is taking my angel from me. Not even the gods.” I almost choked on my next words. “I will fight to the end for you, Nero.”

He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in. “I can’t believe I almost lost you.”

“I can’t believe I almost lost you.” I breathed in a deep sigh of relief.

His scent ignited my sleeping senses. So dark. So masculine. I dipped my face to his neck, drinking him in. It was the most intoxicating scent I’d ever smelled.

I kissed him softly. His pulse pounded beneath my lips, stronger than ever before, pumping with magic. The magic of an archangel. I had to taste him, to feel his blood and magic inside of me. Every pop of his pulse ignited a fresh throb of searing, excruciating need.

“Do it.” His voice was a deep rumble in his chest.

“You’ve just been through so much.” I drew away.

His hand locked around the back of my neck, holding me there. “Do it. I want you to feel the magic I’m feeling.”

My fangs burned in my mouth, throbbing with such raw hunger that my entire body quivered. His heartbeat thrummed in my ears like a racehorse. I could hear nothing else but that sweet siren’s melody. It consumed me. Filled me.

I grabbed him roughly and sank my fangs into his neck. His blood flooded into my mouth, pure and sweet. It burned through my body like liquid ecstasy, its fire searing my flesh, inciting my desire. I couldn’t bear the thought of the mere inches between us, let alone thousands of miles.

“Neither can I,” he said. “I want you with me. Always.”

Had I spoken aloud, or was he reading my thoughts? I couldn’t think straight enough to care about how needy I sounded. I did need him.

His fangs teased my neck, stoking that need.

I made a noise that wasn’t even human. “Bite me,” I pleaded.

He lifted his mouth from my neck, and I moaned in protest. I clawed at him in wanton desperation, pushing his mouth back to my neck, willing him to bite me.

But he was stronger. He captured both my wrists with a single hand. He traced the fingers of his other hand down my neck, pausing at my collarbone, circling it lightly as a devilish smirk curled his lips.

His hand plunged lower. He ripped off my torn top without ceremony and tossed it aside. Fabric tore, and my bra followed. His mouth cupped over my nipple, sucking hard. Pain and pleasure pierced my body. I thrashed and twisted, pressing myself against the hard wall of his chest as I tilted back my head to expose my throat. I couldn’t decide what I wanted more: for him to bite me or to have his sweet, sinful way with me. I only knew with complete certainty that if he didn’t hurry up and do one of those two things now, I was going to die.

“Nero,” I moaned.

He lifted his mouth to my neck, whispering into my ear, “Leda.”

“Please.” My voice was a desperate whimper.

His teeth teased the throbbing vein in my neck. “I want to hear you say it. Say you’re mine.”

I was breathing so hard, it couldn’t have been healthy. “I’m yours.”

“And I am yours,” he told me.

His fangs penetrated my throat, his kiss scorching me deep. Heat spread out from my neck, pulsing through my body.

Nero knelt before me, and with a single, rough tug, he relieved me of my shorts. There was a second flash of movement, and then my panties joined them on the ground. His hands traced my inner thighs, parting my legs.

He looked up at me. Gold and silver sparks swirled inside his eyes, igniting the emerald fire. “I can’t wait. I have to have you now.”

The night’s emotions—the fear, the joy, the triumph, the love—it all mixed together with the Nectar and blood. A whirlwind of blind, dizzying desire crashed through me. I couldn’t wait either. I grabbed desperately at his belt, tugging it loose.

A deep, feral growl buzzed on his lips. His hands closed roughly around my hips, bolstering me up as he thrust into me. My back hit a hard metal fence, but it didn’t hurt. I couldn’t feel anything but him.

My hands locked around Nero, holding him tightly to me. “I am never letting you go.”

His hands closed around my wrists, moving harder, faster. Every thrust sent a shockwave of fire spiraling through me, consuming my flesh, my blood, my magic. I gripped Nero’s back, desperate moans spilling out of me.

A sweet, spicy aroma flooded my senses, and then his dark wings burst out of his back. Velvet-soft feathers rustled between my fingers where hard, smooth muscle had been just a moment before.

I stroked my hand across the tops of his wings. They were so unbelievably beautiful. So hard, yet so soft. His body responded to my touch, his skin buzzing with raw, barely-contained power. And when I caressed his wings again, that control snapped. He groaned deep in his throat, the power of his release pushing me over the edge in a rush of cascading pleasures.

When I finally pulled myself out of the cloud of ecstasy, I realized he’d torn apart the fence we were leaning against—and that my top lay in tattered pieces on the ground.

I slipped into my shorts, shaking with laughter. “We should probably get changed.”

He shrugged off his jacket, sweeping it around me to cover the tears in my shirt. Who said chivalry was dead?

“I have a message from Nyx.” His eyes panned across his phone screen. “She has a new mission for me.”

“Let me guess,” I said as we walked down the street. “Babysitting baby dragons?”

“Close. I’m babysitting a baby angel.”

“Baby angel?” I frowned in confusion. “But there are no baby angels…” Oh. “You mean a new angel. Harker.”

“Yes. Nyx wants me to assess his performance as the new leader of the New York office.”

“So that means you’ll be around for a while?”

“Yes.”

I beamed at him. I just couldn’t hold it back, even as we entered the Legion office. “It’s a good thing it’s so early in the morning.”

“Why?”

“So there aren’t any witnesses to my sappy smirk. Team Lero has a badass reputation to uphold.”

His brows lifted in confusion. “Team Lero?”

“You know, Leda plus Nero. Lero.” I winked at him. “It has a nice ring to it, no?”

He said nothing.

I sighed. “No, you’re right. It’s lame. No need to humor me.”

He reached over to squeeze my hand, but dropped it when Ivy came down the stairs.

“Back from the trials so soon? How did it go?” She stopped, her eyes panning up and down my body. “Whoa? What happened to your clothes, Leda?”

“Uh, well…”

Ivy looked from me to Nero, and a knowing smile curled her lips. “Oh, I see. Well, I’m glad the trials were productive.”

“Very funny,” I replied.

Ivy threw me a final smirk, then hurried off down the hallway toward our apartment.

“Mind if I change at your place?” I asked Nero, following him up the stairs. “I’m afraid to be alone with her right now.”

“Poison Ivy is harmless.”

“You only say that because she’s too afraid of you to tease you to your face.”

“I take it that means she teases me behind my back.”

“A little,” I admitted, chuckling.

“And do you?”

“Do I what?” I asked as we entered his apartment.

“Tease me behind my back.”

“Oh, no. Teasing you to your face is loads more fun. I sometimes even get an eyebrow twitch out of you.”

His brows arched.

“Yeah, just like that,” I said with satisfaction.

I dumped my ruined clothes into the trashcan, then grabbed a change of clothes from the spare closet in his bedroom. Nero walked up behind me, his hands closing around my shoulders. As I slipped into a new top, his mouth dipped to my neck and kissed me softly.

I pivoted around to face him. “You are making it really difficult for me to put on my clothes.”

“That’s because you have it backwards.”

I looked down at the shirt I’d just put on. “It’s not inside out.”

“I didn’t say inside out. I said backwards.” His hand traced my side. He slid my shirt over my head and tossed it to the floor. Then he tossed me onto the bed.