Present day, Seattle

Sariel

I’m dreaming. I haven’t dreamt since I fell, since I became mortal the first time. But here I am, standing on the edge of the River Jordan, cloaked by my grace as I watch Selah sleep under cover of the wide-branched pistachio tree. It’s strange to know this isn’t real but to have lived it once already. She’s as beautiful as I remember, her long hair and olive skin begging me to show myself and touch. Then she sighs and arches her back. Her breasts jut forward, tight nipples pressing against her linen gown.

“Mmm, Sariel.”

The sound of her moan sends a jolt of lust straight to my cock, and I jerk awake. I’m rock hard and ready for her, remembering vividly the first time she caused that reaction. Our kiss—my first instance of so much physical contact. I hadn’t a clue what was happening to me, but the ache in my groin, the desperate need to sink myself deep inside her, and the racing of my blood through my veins had shattered my will. I’d run from her, unsure of what I should do. No, that’s a lie. I knew I should never come back. But I couldn’t resist temptation. If I hadn’t fallen, she would have lived out her days, the Flood never would have happened, and the world would be different. Instead, I’d been selfish and shared everything I’d found with my brothers. I’d convinced them to find their own human women. I’d told them we deserved it all just as much as the humans did.

What a fool I’d been. I don’t regret loving her, but I do regret the consequences.

A sharp burn races through my back, causing me to wince as I stand and pull on a pair of pants. “Dammit, Michael. Let me be.”

The air in the room shifts, and from the corner of my eye I see Gabriel standing in the doorway. “Have a nice nap, brother?” His gaze drifts to the tent in my pants. I’d be embarrassed, but he’s never known the pleasure of a woman. In a way, I feel sorry for him. I never should have let Gabriel rework the protection on this house to allow him and Michael access.

“Nice isn’t the word I’d use to describe it.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Were you dreaming of her?”

Offering a curt nod, I avoid his gaze and shift my shoulders as the itch and burn of Michael’s call intensifies along my shoulders. “What in hell does Michael need? I think he enjoys torturing me with this godforsaken brand he gave me.”

“He probably does. He has always held tight to his grudges. He’s still angry, Sariel. All the archangels are. You abandoned us, chose her over Heaven. Michael doesn’t understand.”

With a shake of my head, I open my closet, selecting a crisp, midnight-blue button-down shirt. The fabric stings as it slides over my back, but it won’t stick to my skin the way a T-shirt would. “Well, it doesn’t make him any less of a pain in my ass.”

“That could be said about you as well.”

“Why are you here?”

Gabriel leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, the leather of his jacket creaking as he moves. “We have a problem.”

Sighing, I grit my teeth against the need to punch him. “Of course we do. We’ve had a problem for the last six years.”

“Lucifer is making himself known to us.”

My skin crawls at the mention of God’s former favorite. I remember vividly his attempt at swaying Devin’s soul mate. Willow had been stronger than Lucifer, willing to die rather than take his offer. “He’s been toying with us.”

“He’s been getting bolder. We weakened him when we took down Azazel and Gadriel, but he’s going to figure out a way to make up for their losses. We should be prepared for him to strike again soon, but you’re more concerned with stalking your human woman.”

“Gabriel, so help me, if you continue to belittle the importance of my relationship with Selah—”

“I only belittle it because of the absolute lack of importance she holds at the moment. If we do not stop Lucifer from rallying the fallen and charging the gates of Heaven, there won’t be a world for your Selah to live in.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” I snap.

“Brother, you must use your power. That’s why Michael infused it into your skin. You know it will fade if you don’t use it.”

He doesn’t understand why that’s exactly what I want it to do. I want to let this power fade until I’m as close to human as Selah.

“Sariel.”

Heaving a sigh, I turn my gaze on him. “What?”

“Why do you hate being an archangel? What have we done to deserve abandonment?”

There’s real emotion behind his questions. A rare show of his true feelings.

“I can’t have her and remain an angel. I fell for her.”

“But you can return to us. Don’t you understand? You can be—”

“I have spent thousands of years mourning her.”

“And we have done the same for you, and all our brothers you took with you.”

“It’s not the same. This love, this yearning, it’s so strong. It’s unlike anything else.”

His gaze turns hard as he pushes off the wall and strides across the room. “Lust. Selfishness. Sin. We truly love them, not you, not the fallen. If you did, you’d have spent eternity devoted to them. Instead, you chose to follow your cock.”

Rage courses through me, turning my heart to fire, and in an instant, I am across the room, barreling into him with all the strength I possess. He lets out a soft grunt as my shoulder connects with his middle, but after a few steps back, he gives a flare of power, and my back burns like acid. With a scream of agony I drop to the floor in front of him.

“You should know better than to take me on. I’m an archangel at full power, and you are barely stronger than a human.”

The pain dulls only enough to let me get to my feet. “How am I supposed to fight if Lucifer is more powerful?” With a flick of his wrist, a sword, glowing and gold, appears in Gabriel’s hand. I let out a weak laugh. This is it? After all this, he’s just going to send me to purgatory to await the end of days and my final judgment?

“You’re right. You can’t do it alone. This blade will come to you when you need it. You have only to use the power in your wings, and it will appear.” He hands it to me hilt first, but I hesitate. “Sariel, they will kill you before you have a chance to escape. But this isn’t all you will need.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know. The vampires. Bring them in.”

A burning ache has settled in my shoulders and all the way down to the tips of my wings. As I shift my weight, I hiss in pain as my shirt pulls where it has stuck to my back. “What did you do to me?”

“It wasn’t me. That was a gift from Michael. He thinks you need more power.”

Glancing in the mirror, I see my shirt is covered in blood. “Tell him I said thanks, but no thanks.”

“Sariel. Get them, or he’ll only make it worse.”

He shakes his head and places a palm on my stinging shoulder, sending a pulse of pain through me. As I scream again, the world fades and comes back into focus. I’m standing outside Devin’s home, my body hurt, my spirit broken. Hammering on the door, I give a pulse of my power before Devin can open the heavy wood. The door breaks from its hinges, and I stand in the threshold, meeting the startled gazes of Devin and Willow.

“Sariel. What the fuck?”

Breathing heavily, I drop to my knees and rest my aching head in my hands. “I need your help.”

* * *

“You have to be fucking kidding me. You seriously expect to barge in here, cock-block me, and get me to help you?” Fury burns in Devin’s gaze as he covers Willow’s body with his. “Turn around so my fiancée can get some clothes on, will you?”

I can’t fight my smirk even though my limbs ache and the lines of my wings burn as if electricity is constantly running through them. I’ve seen everything Willow has to offer, but I understand his anger. I wouldn’t be eager for anyone to see Selah in such an intimate moment.

Closing my eyes, I fight the agony in my back and try to focus on anything other than Willow and Devin. I’m shaking with pain, but with every slow movement I make, I send out slight pulses of power, giving Michael what he wants. As my tattoo heals, I heave a sigh of relief, and when Devin clears his throat, I stand. Straightening the cuffs of my shirt, I work to compose myself.

“Sariel, what the hell happened? You look like absolute shit.” Devin doesn’t sound worried. In fact, he sounds pissed off.

“The archangels sent me. Believe me, Devin, the last thing I want is to involve you in any of this again.”

Willow cocks an eyebrow. “Archangels? As in, more than one?”

Nodding, I stride across the room, wincing as the dried blood pulls on my back. “Yes, more than one.”

“Does this have to do with our souls?”

Willow is so much more intuitive than I give her credit for. She’s always one step ahead, and I have routinely forgotten that in the time I’ve known her. “It does.”

Before Devin can utter a word, she’s running her fingers over the bloodied fabric of my shirt. “What the fuck happened to you? We need to get you cleaned up.”

“I’m fine. I just need—”

With a wet ripping sound taking the place of my words, Willow tears the shirt from my torso and gasps at the sight of my ruined back. “Who did this?”

“It’s fine, Willow. I’ll be healed in a few hours.”

“Sariel, you look like you’ve been flayed.”

Sighing, I roll my shoulders and step away from her. “Not flayed. Scored.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re my wings. Tattooed on my skin as a reminder of the power I could wield if I’d put aside Selah.”

“You can’t have both?” Willow sounds genuine in her confusion, and although I feel like an ass, I laugh. There’s no disguising the bitterness in my heart.

“No. That would be too perfect. I will have to choose, Heaven or Selah.”

Her expression crumbles. “That’s not the God I know.”

“You don’t understand anything about my situation. I spurned Him. Turned my back on everything He wanted from me. He’s my father, and like any parent, He loves me and wants what He feels is best for me. Taking her from me was my punishment. This choice is my consequence.”

“What can we do to help?”

Devin visibly stiffens, his already pale skin going whiter. “You’re kidding, right? I spent five fucking years doing anything and everything for those winged assholes.”

She takes a step back from me and shoots a burning glare at him. “Did you forget what they gave you? You have a soul, Devin. The least we can do is help Sariel.”

Devin runs a large hand through his shoulder-length hair, his bright blue eyes focused across the room, somewhere on the wall behind us. “Goddammit, Willow.”

Her answering smirk leaves me heaving a sigh of relief.

“So, what do you need us to do?” Willow asks.

“I’m not sure. Not yet. But I’ll be in touch.” My back itches as the lines of grace heal and pulse with unused power. Casting a glance at Devin, I raise an eyebrow. “Do you have a spare shirt? Your woman seems to have a thing for ripping clothes from male bodies. Or maybe that’s only when I’m inhabiting the form?”

“Fuck off,” Devin bites out, but he strolls into the bedroom and, moments later, tosses a pale green T-shirt at me.

Holding it up, I shake my head and frown. It proudly states, “Kiss me, I’m Irish.”

“Seems a little childish,” I mutter.

His chuckle only adds to my annoyance. “I bought it for Galen as a joke. Moody bastard never wore it.”

Slipping the abomination over my head, I sigh. It will have to do.

“I’m staying at his house.”

“Whose?”

“Galen’s. Although, I no longer need the protection from the sun, I’m glad to have it. You and Willow may need to come stay with me if things get bad.”

Devin groans. “This just keeps getting better. I hate that fucking dungeon room. Galen was so dramatic when he was a vampire. I don’t understand why he thought he needed to be shrouded in darkness at all times.”

“I’ll let you know when I need you.” I’m done with this little reunion. I spent five years sharing a body with Devin. It was long enough.

After offering my goodbyes, I flick a glance at the door, splintered and barely hanging from its hinges, and shrug. I should probably fix that. But I won’t. Devin can take care of it.

As soon as I’m outside, I realize my mistake. I’m forty-five minutes away by car. I didn’t bring a car. Damn it all to Hell and back. I walk through the upscale neighborhood, looking drastically out of place in my novelty shirt and black slacks. I’m reasonably certain I look a little like a homeless man who just happened upon these random pieces of clothing in a Dumpster somewhere.

An hour later, I’m strolling through the city streets, watching the human population at their best. I used to be so enamored with them and their freedoms. They could do anything, be anything, have everything. All I could do was watch. Now, I don’t care about them. I only want her. And, as if guided by destiny, she stumbles out the doors of McCoy’s Firehouse Bar and Grill and straight into my arms.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she cries, her small hands pressed against my chest as she stares up at me. “Hey, I know you. You’ve got wings.”

Her words are slightly slurred, cheeks flushed, and eyes bright as she smiles under my gaze. “What?”

“Beautiful wings.”

“Selah, what are you doing out here?” A tall brunette stands behind Selah, her arms crossed over her ample chest and a scowl marring what might be pretty features.

“He has wings.”

Selah slides her fingers over my shoulders and along my back. Fighting a shiver of pleasure, I help her to a more stable position.

“Sure, he’s an angel,” her friend offers in a placating tone.

Oh, if only she knew how right she was.

“It’s a tattoo,” I tell her, hoping we can drop the topic.

Cocking an eyebrow, the woman smirks. “And how does she know about your tattoo?”

I can’t resist playing with her now. “She saw it when I took my shirt off.”

Her mouth drops open, and as I’m about to put her out of her misery and explain, Selah moans and falls forward into my grasp. Without a second thought, I collect her, scooping her up in my arms and nestling her head against my chest.

“Oh, damn. I shouldn’t have let her drink that last Irish car bomb,” her friend offers.

My livid expression must not be very well hidden, as the woman takes a step back. “She needs to get home.”

Shaking her head, she sighs. “That’s the last place she should go. Her fiancé will probably be there. He’s the reason we’re out here. The asshole.”

Selah leans her head heavily against me as she breathes slowly. Her beautiful eyes are closed, hiding their beloved color from me, but I don’t care. She’s in my arms. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

Shushing her, I stroke her hair. “Come on, then. Let’s get you taken care of. My house isn’t far.”

“But,” her friend begins, but I stop her with a pulse of power I shouldn’t be using.

“Go inside. Selah went home with a good friend. She’ll be fine.”

The idiot nods and turns on her heel. Raising my hand, I hail a cab and settle the love of my life inside. Excitement builds in my chest as I give my address. As we drive, Selah’s head falls to my shoulder, one arm between us and the other resting on my chest, right over my erratically beating heart.

I have her.

I’m never letting her go.