Present day, Seattle

Sariel

My back stings with every step as I run the path around Green Lake. Michael’s parting gift to me, the etched tattoo of my long-lost wings, has been hurting more than usual over the last week. Maybe it’s all the pent-up power, or his way of trying to get me to give in and use my abilities. Either way, it’s annoying. My shirt brushes against the raised lines of ethereal ink, itching and burning like a sunburn.

“Damn it all to hell,” I grumble, needing relief from the irritation against my skin.

My breaths heavy from exertion, I find a place to rest, standing under the shade of a large tree as I pull my shirt over my head. In the short span of weeks since I was returned to my mortal form, I’ve struggled with the realization that I need to treat myself as though I were human, because although I’m stronger than a normal man, I can die from injury, even illness.

“Hey, nice ink. Where’d you get that done?” The soft, feminine rasp catches me off guard, making my spine stiffen and my heart jump.

I know that voice better than I know mine. Selah. I’ve avoided my urge to watch her for two weeks since Gabriel scolded me outside Starbucks. But it seems fate has other plans for us. Turning on my heel, I stare into eyes the gray of a storm cloud. A tumble of dark hair falls over one of her shoulders as she smiles at me, her body blocking the bright beam of the sun.

Speak, you idiot, I tell myself, but words won’t form as I stand before her. She looks exactly the same. Her face still holds a gentle softness, full lips the same dusky rose color that seduced me the first time I saw her. Why would God put us in front of each other, in our original forms, if this wasn’t destined to be?

She drops her gaze and twirls her long locks around her fingers as awkwardness settles in the silence. It’s easy to sense her desire to leave, and almost like clockwork, she begins turning her head.

“What did you ask me? I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you.” I’m practically begging her to believe my lie, hoping her smile will return.

“Your tattoo. It’s so cool. Where did you get it done?”

Again, my heart lurches. She shouldn’t be able to see my wings. Humans can’t see angelic grace unless they’ve been touched by it.

“I…uh…my brother did it.”

Her fingers twitch as she raises her hand and steps around me to get a better look at my back. “Do you mind?” she asks.

Do I mind? She’s going to touch me, and she asks if I mind? I’ve been dying for her hands for what feels like eternity.

I have to clear my throat before I can force the words free. “Go ahead.”

The instant her skin brushes mine, a fire races through me. This body, my body, knows her touch like the melody of a favorite song. Goose bumps break out as I shiver, but she continues tracing the golden lines. I’d give anything to see her face, but I can’t move, my focus on the blades of grass at my feet as I take in the feel of her.

“It’s so beautiful. I’ve never seen ink like this. It shimmers.”

When she reaches the center of my back, the place where my true wings were ripped from me, a lance of pain shoots straight into my shoulders. With a sharp intake of breath, I step forward, unable to stand it any longer.

“Sorry… It’s still tender right there.”

“Oh, it’s new?”

Shrugging, I slip into my shirt and step back under the tree’s shade. “I’ve had it a few weeks. The, um, ink is taking a while to get used to.”

“It’s amazing. Did it hurt worse because of that ink?”

“Almost worse than anything else I’ve experienced.”

Her lips, perfect and plump, twitch as she fights a grin. “You’re a big guy. Can’t take a little needle?”

“Oh, believe me, I can take just about anything, but this was hours upon hours.”

“It is very intricate. Those feathers look almost real.”

She takes her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment, as though she’s biting back a question.

“What? You look like you want to say something.”

“It’s just…a strange tattoo. You know, for a man to get.”

I can’t hold in my laughter. If she only knew how much I hadn’t wanted this, how they’d held me down and spent hours scratching the details into my skin, how I’d somehow managed not to scream when Michael hit bone.

“I have a thing about wings,” I offer.

Her face lights up. “Me too. Well, those and the moon.”

Shock rolls through me as she pulls up the hem of her shirt to show me her side. There, etched in a splash of watercolor, is a stylized wing. Following her previous actions, I raise my eyebrows in question. When she nods, I run my finger over the softness of her skin and instead of looking at the tattoo, I stare into her eyes.

Clearing her throat, she drops the fabric of her shirt and laughs. “Wow, you must think I’m crazy. I don’t usually just start touching strangers and letting them see my tattoos.”

“You can touch me anytime you want.” It leaves my mouth before I can register what I’m saying.

Her breath catches, and a charming pink rises to her cheeks.

“What’s your name?” I ask, even though I know full well who she is. I’ve been practically stalking her for the last few weeks, but she doesn’t know that.

“Selah. Selah Whitfield.”

Nodding, I grin. “That’s lovely. It’s Hebrew, isn’t it? A musical term?” I’ve told her this before…the last time I spoke to her when I was still in Devin’s body. I glance at her left hand, and my heart leaps when I see her ring finger is bare.

“It is. You know, you’re only the second person to ever tell me they know that.”

It’s then that I realize my mistake. When I met her in this life, I was living in Devin, but I gave her my name. I can’t tell her who I am, not without causing serious confusion. I know any second, she’ll expect me to introduce myself.

“I’m…Sam…Messenger.” It’s not a total lie. Sam is closer than anything else I can come up with, and as an angel, I am a messenger of sorts.

“Nice to meet you, Sam.”

The name sounds wrong on her lips. I want to hear the soft rasp as she moans Sariel with the same kind of passion we’d shared in our first life together. Gripping the back of my neck, I squeeze hard to try to bring my focus back to the situation we’re in right now.

“It’s my pleasure, Selah. Not every day I get to spend time with a woman as beautiful as you. I should be thanking you.”

Her cheeks flush crimson as she turns her gaze away from mine. Then, as though breaking a spell, her name sounds from across the path. A smile widens across her lips, taking away that beautiful blush I’d caused.

“Adam,” she calls, her attention stolen from me. She jogs past me, and all I can do is watch as he catches her up in his arms. They begin walking away from me, but she casts a glance over her shoulder and offers me a smile. “Bye, Sam. Take care.”

She’s not mine…not yet. But she will be. I just have to bide my time.

* * *

My arms ache from overuse as I pull myself through the water for one final lap in the pool. I haven’t allowed myself to return to Green Lake since seeing Selah there. With him. For all I know, she could already be married to the bastard. The notion curdles my gut. She can’t marry another man. But if I see her again, I don’t know if I can contain myself. I’ll scare her off and ruin any hope of claiming her.

After pushing my body free of the water at the side of the pool, I get to my feet and snag my towel, wrapping it around my waist before I head into the locker room. A soft gasp followed by a giggle catches my attention. For a moment, I allow myself to hope that fate has intervened yet again and brought Selah to me. My heart sinks when my gaze travels from the cement floor to the source of the noise. Two young women clad in red lifeguard swimsuits stand at the edge of the bleachers. They’re staring openly, hungry expressions on their faces.

The blonde leans closer to her friend and whispers, “See, Heather, I told you he looks like a Greek god. He’s been here three days in a row.”

A smirk turns up the corner of my mouth, but a twinge of worry hits me at the same time. I shouldn’t be able to hear them from this far away. I’ve been trying not to use my grace, but it’s almost an unconscious choice every time I do.

Walking toward them with my focus on the locker room door beyond where they stand, I try to seem as disinterested as possible. I can feel their gazes on me as I move away and turn into the men’s locker room. As soon as I’m out of sight, relief hits me, and I sigh. I may not want any other woman, but my nature draws them to me. Taking the towel from around my waist, I scrub at my dripping hair and head for the shower. As I round the corner, I run straight into the immovable form of Gabriel. His chiseled features are filled with annoyance.

“You got me wet,” he complains, gesturing toward the damp spot on his light-gray shirt.

“Your fault,” I counter. “If you’d just call me like the rest of the world does when they want to talk to someone, this could all be avoided.”

“I am not from this—”

“Just get to the point, Gabriel.” I don’t have time for him right now. I just want to shower, change, and go home.

“Tamiel has shown himself.”

That stops me in my tracks. “What?”

“We think he’s abandoning the other fallen. He may be of use to us.”

“Why would he remove his cloak? He knows we’re looking for the Watchers who are fighting for Lucifer’s cause.”

“He would probably rather spend eternity in purgatory than risk being punished as Azazel was. Smiting a brother, fallen or not, is never easy for me, but I will do it if I have to. Tamiel knows that.”

Gabriel has a point, but I wonder. “Do you think he’s found his soul mate?”

My brother stiffens even more than usual, if that’s even possible. His icy glare is so cold, I fight a shiver. “Stop romanticizing your fall. You have a soul mate, you found her, the others never did.”

“But they had them.”

He shakes his head. “Only a scant few in comparison to the hundreds you took with you.”

Guilt hits me at his reminder of my fall from grace. “Do you know where he is? Maybe I could talk to him and get some information.”

“Get dressed. I can take you directly to him, but be prepared. He may not be so willing to talk.”