by Sadie Moss
Is everyone else sleeping? What are they up to?
Curiosity overtakes me. I’ve learned a lot about the sins by witnessing their interactions today, but I think I’ll get an even better idea of who they are, of what makes them tick, if I can observe them without them knowing it.
That’s only a little bit creepy, right?
Ugh. Shut up, brain.
Turning invisible, I slip out of bed and pad over to the door. It doesn’t make a noise as it shuts behind me, and I tiptoe back out into the main living room.
The men are settled on the elegant couches. Well, Remington and Phoenix are on the couches. Ford is pacing back and forth, obviously too full of angry energy to sit still, while Beckett is sitting on the lounge chair like it’s a throne. The dynamic between them does seem very sibling-esque right now, the kind of dynamic I’ve seen between characters on TV shows all the time: the commanding oldest sibling who expects to be obeyed, the angry middle child, the peacekeeping middle child, and the spoiled, lazy baby of the family.
For a moment, they don’t look like powerful supernatural beings. They just look like ordinary people with ordinary family problems.
But they’re not discussing ordinary problems at all.
Ford’s got a drink in his hand—actually, all of them do—and he’s waving it around for emphasis. “I don’t fucking trust her. She’s got something going on. And you know what a goddamn shit show it’ll be if we keep her around. It’s fucking dangerous.”
“Yeah, I’m with Ford here,” Phoenix says, spreading out on the couch as if he’s melting into it. He takes a sip of his drink and grimaces. “Really, bro? All this fancy Glenfiddich stuff, and you couldn’t just keep some regular beer in the place too? Anyway, I’m with Ford. I mean, come on. She can’t be good for us. How do we know this isn’t some kind of trap?”
“She’s not nearly devious enough to trap us.” Beckett’s voice is blunt. “Did any of you observe her at all today? Every emotion she has is written on her face.”
I bristle, an embarrassed blush heating my cheeks. I know I’d never make the world’s best poker player, but still. Rude.
My only consolation is the thought that if he’s really able to read every emotion on my face, then he knows what a domineering asshole I think he is sometimes.
I bite my lip, surprised at the word that just popped into my head. Swearing is another one of those things angels aren’t strictly forbidden from doing, but that the higher-ups would never do in polite company.
My gaze strays back to the men in the living room. But then, I’m not really in polite company anymore, am I?
“…not the point,” Nix is saying in his languid drawl. “Since when do we get involved in either Heaven or Hell’s business? That shit doesn’t involve us.”
“No,” Beckett growls. “But Earth does. You really want a bunch of corrupted overrunning this place? No one in this room will win if that happens. Except maybe Ford.”
Phoenix and Remington both turn to look at their brother, and Ford freezes, tilting his head. It’s clear he’s had some kind of thought, and I lean forward a little.
What is he thinking? He looks oddly like a tiger that’s about to—
In the blink of an eye, he moves.
Spinning on his heel, the blond fighter leaps at me, just like a predator pouncing. I scream in fear and surprise, going visible out of shock, and leap back out of the way, unfurling my wings and using them as leverage to escape him.
But there’s nowhere to go. Beckett’s apartment is on the top floor, and despite his earlier threats to throw me out the window, I can’t see any windows that even look like they’ll open.
Frick!
Ford chases me around the room, and I feel like a chicken with its head cut off, half flying, half scrambling, trying to get away. His rage is palpable and terrifying, and I don’t want anything to do with it. I know it’s probably stupid, but I’ve never been so scared in my life.
I really might pee my pants this time.
Remington is saying something, probably trying to calm his brother down, while Phoenix is being decidedly unhelpful by yelling at us like he’s watching a football game.
One of Ford’s hands closes over my wing, and I scream again. He yanks me back so that I land hard on the cool, polished floor. The wind is knocked out of me and it hurts to inhale, tears stinging my eyes from the adrenaline and shock as Ford pins me down, straddling me.
“Hey! Don’t hurt her.” Remington finally sounds truly alarmed. If he wasn’t worried about Ford and Beckett fighting, but he’s worried about Ford and me, that tells me I should probably be scared out of my wits.
Well, super. Because I am.
“She was spying on us. I heard her footsteps,” Ford snarls. His hand wraps around my throat—not tight enough that I actually have trouble breathing, but enough to send a warning.
“I’ve got… a right…” I manage, trying to talk over the hammering of my heart. “You guys are sins, and I’m an angel. How am I supposed to know you aren’t going to go back on our deal?”
“She’s got a fair point.” Remington puts a hand on Ford’s shoulder, his expression tense. “Just… lay off her. Please.”
The personification of wrath glares down at me. His weight is heavy on top of me, straddling my hips, and I feel tiny and vulnerable beneath him. He could snap me in half if he wanted to, break me like a doll. I can feel his thighs squeezing my body, and I’m uncomfortably aware of every place we’re touching.
His blue eyes narrow as his gaze pierces me. His irises are such a light color of blue that they make me think of a frozen winter sky. Of sunlight glinting off ice.
He drops his head a little, bringing his face closer to mine. “How do I know you won’t spy on us again? Huh?”
“Because she won’t,” Beckett says.
Ford looks up, apparently startled. “So, what, you’re going to fucking vouch for her?”
“Yes.” Beckett swirls his drink in his glass, completely calm. “Now let her go. She’s right. We’re the sins; she’s from Above. We don’t have reason to trust her, as you pointed out, but what reason does she have to trust us either? Our natures are diametrically opposed. So if everyone could stop pointing fingers and treat one another as equals at the table, I would appreciate that.”
“We’re not in one of your fucking strategy meetings,” the man pinning me down growls, but he lets go of me and stands smoothly.
Remington helps me to my feet. “Are you all right?” His voice is soft, his hand rubbing soothingly along my lower back.
I really shouldn’t feel as safe as I do with Remington. I try to remind myself that it’s all false, that just because he seems gentler than his brothers, it doesn’t make him any less a sin—but it’s hard to fully believe that when he’s comforting me like this.
My nod is jerky, but I meet his concerned gaze. “I’m okay.”
Beckett gives me a searching look, and my breath catches as I remember that he knows I can turn invisible. In fact, he’s the only one here who already knew I could do that. I admitted it when he caught me in his kitchen last night.
I am terrible at hiding my emotions, and Beckett must see my eyes go wide, because he gives me a slight, knowing smile. It makes my stomach twist, a burst of anger flaring inside me. Greed knew that I could spy on all of them, and he didn’t say anything to his brothers about it. And he’s not saying anything now.
Was this some kind of test? And if so, was it for me, or for Ford, or for both of us?
I don’t know. And I clearly don’t know Beckett as well as I might’ve thought either, despite spending the most time with him out of the four brothers I’ve met so far.
Ugh.
I’m in so far over my head, it’s ridiculous.
Chapter Sixteen
Ford
The angel is sleeping.
Her chest rises and falls with slow, even breaths as her dark hair spreads out on the pillow around her head.
&nb
sp; She looks peaceful enough like this. Innocent. Fragile.
My hands clench into fists as I grit my teeth.
What the hell is your game, Trinity?
She doesn’t answer, of course. She’s dead a-fucking-sleep, and she has no idea I’m even in her room. Any guilt I might have about spying on her in secret is assuaged by the fact that she just did the exact same damn thing to me and my brothers.
What the hell was she doing, sneaking into the living room under cover of invisibility to listen in on our conversation? What was she hoping to hear? Remi can defend her all he wants; I know there’s something she’s not telling us. Nix is on my side in this, at least, although having that lazy asshole on your side in anything is about the same as having a sack of potatoes on your side.
Fuckin’ useless, in other words.
Beck is taken with her. She’s gotten under his skin. He’d never admit it, but he doesn’t have to. We know each other too well for him to keep that kind of shit from us. It’s obvious in the way he looks at her, in the way he’s gone so far out of his way to help her.
He’s not wrong—a bunch of corrupted running around New York would be bad news on a lot of levels. Earth is our territory. They already have Hell, and they can keep it.
But we could defend Earth without an annoying, alluring little angel following us around. There’s no reason for her to be part of this.
Except she is. And no matter how much I hate it, that doesn’t look likely to change. Not as long as she’s got my brothers wrapped around her little wing feathers.
Which leaves me to figure out what the fuck kinda game she’s playing, and why she seems so dead set on getting help from a bunch of sins.
Pushing away from the door, I stalk over to the bed, my feet completely silent on the hard floor. Trinity shifts in her sleep, rolling over onto her side and nestling deeper into the pile of pillows she’s surrounded herself with. Her long lashes cast shadows on her cheeks, and her round face and slightly sharp chin frame a straight nose and full lips.
My gaze lingers on her lips, and something uncomfortable stirs inside me.
Desire.
Fucking hell.
Curling my lips back in a silent snarl, I shove the feeling down as deep as I can get it. I’m not my brother Sawyer, ruled by lust and carnal cravings. Desire is a distraction, a flash of color outside the ring that draws your focus and leaves you open to attack.
It’s the kind of thing that makes you stupid. Gets you killed.
The kind of thing that breaks you.
My hands form fists again, anger boiling up from deep inside me. My wrath feeds off of other people’s rage, but also off of their fear. When I had the angel pinned beneath me, her wings splayed prettily behind her and her body writhing in the skimpy little pajamas she was wearing, she was definitely afraid.
But the scent of her fear didn’t spur on my battle lust like it normally does. The sight of her terrified brown eyes didn’t ignite my predator’s instincts to lunge in for the kill.
Instead, I wanted to… protect her.
I don’t understand it, and I don’t fucking like it. This angel is dangerous, and it’s not just because of the secrets she’s harboring. If we allow her to stay with us, to keep working with us as we try to close that damn portal, she’ll bring nothing but trouble to my brothers and me.
There’s nothing keeping me here. I don’t owe her shit. I could walk away from all of this, go back to fighting in the ring, and let my brothers fuck themselves if they want to.
I didn’t take the favor she offered because I refuse to bargain with a goddamn angel, no matter how useful it might be to have her owe me down the line.
I have no reason to stay.
But despite all of that, I can’t quite bring myself to walk away.
Not from my brothers. Not from the mystery surrounding the sinkhole and the portal. And not from the soft little angel sleeping in front of me, so small and innocent it feels like I could ruin her with a single touch.
Would she break under my touch?
Or would she come alive?
The urge to reach out and trace a finger over the curve of her cheek nearly overwhelms me, but instead, I spin on my heel and stride out of the room, cursing all angels under my breath.
“Are you sure this is where he is?” Trinity asks, her eyes widening as we all step out of Beckett’s car.
We’re in a shady part of New York City, an area I know well, and although I’m a little amused by the scandalized look on her face, I’m annoyed by it too.
“What’s the matter, your highness?” I grate. “You too good for a place like this?”
Her mocha skin flushes a little, and a little line appears between her brows. That seems to happen when she’s pissed.
“I didn’t say that,” she shoots back, a little burst of anger flaring out from her. I inhale it like a drug. It’s sweet, just like she is, but there’s a bite of something sharper at the back of it, like candy with a hint of cayenne in it. It’s fuckin’ addicting, and I have to resist the urge to keep poking at her just to get another hit of her anger.
“It’s okay, Trin,” Remi says reassuringly, ever the peacekeeper. “We’ll be with you the whole time. And it’s not the kind of place where people will get violent—not like the fight ring. It’s a pleasure den, so the whole point is to keep people… pleased. Okay?”
Goddammit. His euphemism makes me want to punch him. Just because she’s an angel, we’re not allowed to say the word “fucking” around her? Because that’s what people are doing inside this place. They’re fucking, and all the variations thereof.
“Hurry the fuck up,” I mutter, just to prove a point. I’m not cleaning up my damn language just because we’ve got an angel in our midst. “My source told me she saw Henrik heading inside about an hour ago. We need to get inside and find him before he slips out one of the back exits.”
Trinity surprises me by picking up her pace, her shoulders squaring a little as we all approach the nondescript brick facade of the building. The proprietors keep the place tightly under wraps especially since it’s a pleasure den for supernaturals. They don’t want humans poking their noses where they don’t belong and getting an eyeful of a gargoyle getting it on with a sprite.
Beckett pushes the door open, and the bouncer standing inside gives us a nod, immediately recognizing that none of us are quite human. His gaze lingers on the angel with a mix of suspicion and appreciation, trailing down her body as he cocks his head.
I step forward, anger rushing through me like a flash fire. The beefy man jerks, holding his hands up.
“Hey, man. As long as she’s not human, it’s all good,” he mutters, then jerks his head down the hall. “If y’all need a room, talk to the matron up front.”
Trinity lets out a little squeak, and I clench my jaw as my cock twitches inexplicably.
We make our way past the bouncer, but instead of going to seek out the madam, I turn back to face the others. “We should split up. This place is big, with multiple levels and subsections for different kinds of kinks and shit. I don’t know what the hell Henrik is into, so he could be anywhere. We’ll cover more ground quicker if we separate.”
The angel makes another little noise, and Beckett glances over at her. “We’re not leaving you on your own, angel. You’ll stick with one of us.”
I shoot him a hard look. The fucker might claim this is just because he doesn’t trust Trinity, but that’s not the truth—or at least, not all of it.
He’s protective of her.
Possessive of her.
“Oh, okay.” She sounds relieved as she looks around at the four of us. “I guess I’ll go with Phoenix then?”
Nix rolls his eyes and Remi looks slightly disappointed, like he was hoping she would pick him. I’m not surprised she chose one of those two fuckheads though—in the car, she sat between the two of them in the back seat, and I’ve noticed that she often ends up sandwiched between them, like that’s the place
she feels safest.
It makes sense. Remi can make anyone let their guard down, and Nix is too lazy to ever seem like a real threat. So of course she’d gravitate toward the two men who intimidate her the least.
That doesn’t explain the sharp jab of jealousy that pierces my chest, or the rush of anger that follows it though.
Fuckin’ hell.
Phoenix looks torn between smugness that the angel picked him and annoyance that he might have to actually do the job we came here for now. As Trinity steps closer to him, I shove down every emotion besides my fury and turn on my heel, stalking down the hallway.
I hope like hell I’m the one who finds Henrik first.
I need to take out my rage on someone.
Chapter Seventeen
Trinity
Right now, I’m pretty glad that Phoenix is Sloth, because otherwise I have the feeling that he wouldn’t be nearly so laid back about getting stuck with me. His general annoyed demeanor says it all.
As if I wasn’t already uncomfortable enough in this place.
It’s not that I think sex is… wrong, exactly. And it’s not like I’m completely naive. I’ve watched some R-rated movies in my day, I’ll have you know.
But seeing something on television or in movies is completely different from being thrust right into the middle of the real thing. I might not be morally against this, but that doesn’t mean I’m used to being so up close and personal with it.
“Don’t eat or drink anything while we’re here,” Phoenix warns me, cutting a sideways glance at me.
“I’m not stupid,” I tell him, with more anger than I planned. “I know you think I am, and that this is a waste of time, but I’m not as innocent as you assume.”
He sighs, running a hand through his ash-brown hair. “Just because I don’t trust how you’re dragging us all into this mess doesn’t mean I’ve got anything against you, sweets. It’s nothing personal, okay?”
Sounds pretty personal to me, but whatever.
