by Larissa Ione
“Don’t do it,” she cried. “Do not die.” She shook him, hating him for putting her through this. “You son of a bitch! You can’t come back into my life and make me feel something and then go away again. Don’t do this!” She choked on a sob. “Please.”
A low-level buzz filled the air, and an instant later Thanatos and Reseph, fully armored, burst through the gate. Hatred so fierce Harvester felt it as a wave of stinging heat billowed off Thanatos. He glared, and all around him, the inky, shadowy souls of those he’d killed began to circle at his feet.
“What happened?” he barked as he sank down next to Reaver.
“I’ll tell you everything,” she swore, hoping he didn’t strike her down right then and there. “But we need to get him to UG first.”
With tenderness few would expect from the Horseman known as Death, Than scooped up Reaver and cast his own Harrowgate.
Harvester stood, her heart clenching at the sight of Reaver lying limp and pale in Than’s arms. “You’re going to leave me here?”
“That’s up to Reseph.” Than stepped through the gate, leaving her alone with Reseph for the first time since she’d healed his mind by linking it with his mate, a human named Jillian.
And how weird was it that after all the months of torture she’d endured as a guest in Satan’s palace, it was the memory of what Pestilence had done to her that wrapped around her like barbed wire and rendered her nearly unable to stand her ground in front of him.
She actually reached for her power before remembering she was tapped out. Defenseless.
“Take me with you.” She swallowed, but it did nothing to ease the sudden dryness in her mouth. “Please. Reaver went through hell to save me. It’ll all make sense when he’s better.”
Reseph, who had never taken anything seriously prior to his Seal breaking, looked down at her, his expression eerily blank. “If he gets better.”
“He will,” she insisted. “Reaver is too damned stubborn to die.” Please be too stubborn.
“Our Watchers said you were working for Heaven. Is that true?” Reseph’s blue eyes, so like his father’s, were haunted, and she wondered how much of his evil past as Pestilence still had a hold on him.
She understood that more than she’d like to.
“Yes,” she said. “From the beginning.”
“So all the shit you helped Pestilence with? That was all bullshit?”
“Not all of it,” she admitted. “I had to help further his cause sometimes. I couldn’t let him get suspicious.”
Reseph closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, and she knew he was on the fence. As Pestilence, he’d hurt her, and his guilt still ate at him. She hadn’t crossed over into the realm of good so firmly that she felt shame for exploiting his guilt.
“Please,” she repeated. “I’m… begging you. I need to make sure Reaver’s okay.”
“If you’re lying… if you hurt him—”
“I’m not, and I won’t.” She held her breath, waiting for his answer with as much patience as she could muster. Reaver could be dying while he waffled.
He lifted his lids and resolve gleamed in his eyes. “Let’s go.”
“Wait!” The booming voice shook the ground, and even the air around them vibrated.
In a fluid spin, Reseph produced a sword and put himself between Harvester and Raphael. Gods, he must hate her, and yet, his instinct was to protect her.
So like his father.
Raphael stood imperiously before them, a rich, velvety purple robe draping his body. Silver wings that matched the robe’s fur lining rose skyward in an elegant arc.
Reseph didn’t sheathe his blade, a blatant insult to any archangel.
Raphael’s lips peeled back in a vicious smile. “I still find it hard to believe that you, of all the Horsemen, had the balls to defeat your demon half.”
“I still find it hard to believe they let douchebags be archangels,” Reseph said in a bring-it-on drawl. “Guess we’re even.”
At the furious spike of Raphael’s brows, Harvester leaped between Reseph and the archangel.
“Go, Reseph,” she said calmly, even though her heart was beating so fast she thought it might break out of her rib cage. “Take care of Reaver.”
“Still trying to protect Yenrieth’s children, I see,” Raphael murmured. “You’re not their Watcher anymore.”
“Thank you for the reminder,” she said sourly. “But my oath to watch over them came long before I was officially appointed as a Watcher. My pledge still holds.”
Raphael’s voice was mocking. “Does it.”
Reseph hadn’t moved, so Harvester reached behind her and gave him a light shove. “Please. Go.”
“I’ll give Reaver your best,” Reseph said to Raphael. “Your concern for him is just so… overwhelming.” Reseph opened a gate and stepped through, but not before shooting Raphael a fuck-you gesture with both hands.
“How did you put up with them for so long?” Raphael stared at the empty space where Reseph had disappeared into. “They’re horrible.”
She forced a smile when inside she really wanted to punch the angel. The Horsemen might not be the most pleasant of people, but they were what they were because of Raphael and his brethren. And truly, considering their pasts and everything they’d endured, she figured they’d turned out pretty damned well.
“They’re horrible only if you’re on their bad side.” She’d seen what happened to those who pissed off the Horsemen. Horrible didn’t cover it. She crossed her arms over her chest, wincing at the aches and pains all over her body. “If you’re here to apologize for the assassins you sent after us, you’re wasting your time.”
Raphael snapped his fingers, and all her wounds healed. Power sang through her, bright and vibrant. Even her fallen angel wings had grown back, and she spread them wide, nearly weeping at the sensation of feeling whole again.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He didn’t even make a token effort to sound convincing.
“You underestimated me and Reaver. You always have.”
A low, dangerous growl erupted from Raphael’s broad chest. “And you,” he spat out, “have always overestimated him in every way. Yenrieth was never good enough for you. As Reaver he’s no better.”
She clenched her teeth before she said something really stupid. Like, Neither are you. Or worse, Reaver is better than any of you.
“Do you know how much trouble he’s caused?” Raphael asked. “According to our intel, Satan knows he was behind your rescue, and his armies are amassing at Sheoulic exit points all over the world in preparation to invade Heaven when Lucifer is born. We don’t have much time to prepare.”
They had even less time than he thought. “The game changed while Reaver and I were in Sheoul. Lucifer could be born in just a few days.”
The blood drained from his face. “Are you sure?” At her nod, he snarled. Overhead, storm clouds brewed from out of nowhere. “Perfect. And do you know what will make it easier for him… in a few days? There are weak spots in the Heavenly fabric, and for the first time in history, demons invaded Heaven.”
She gasped. Demons? In Heaven?
“And did you know it’s your fault? Yours and Reaver’s?” Thunder rumbled in the sky above, and Raphael snapped his fingers, putting a big bubble of a rain shield over them.
“Bullshit.” She wasn’t ready to take anything Raphael said at face value.
“You fed from him. Twice. Both times opened small portals that allowed demons to wander through.”
“There’s no way you could know that,” she croaked out.
“We know because you two share a blood bond.”
Oh, God. They shouldn’t know that, either. Bluff. “Even if you’re right, feeding wouldn’t cause that.”
“It would if you’re fallen and Reaver is—” He snapped his mouth shut so fast she heard his teeth crack.
She narrowed her gaze. “Reaver is… what?” When he waved away her question, she gave up tryi
ng to be civil. “Dammit, why are you here? If you’re going to kill me, do it already. And have the balls to do it yourself instead of hiding behind fucking darkmen.”
“Your time in Sheoul has wreaked havoc on your vocabulary.” Raphael stepped closer, a mountain of Heavenly menace. “You know why we had to send the darkmen. I didn’t want to, but you survived, you’re here now, and it’s over.”
He pressed forward, stalking her like a tiger, his gaze hungry and ruthless, and an alarm started clanging in her head. But before she could so much as think about flashing out of there, he was on her, backing her against the lone tree on the hilltop.
“What are you doing?” The quaver in her voice more than gave away her anxiety. She’d escaped one enemy just to land on the doorstep of another. She’d gone from the frying pan into the fire. From the claws of a Soulshredder into the jaws of a Gargantua.
She was racking up the clichés for trouble.
One hand slammed into the tree above her head, and the other gripped her shoulder in a bruising hold. Even at full strength, with all the power inherent to a fallen angel of her rank and genetics, she couldn’t escape him.
“I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago.” The archangel’s eyes flamed hot. There was no warning, no slow buildup. He slanted his mouth over hers.
Startled, Harvester went taut as Raphael pressed his big body against hers and savaged her mouth in a demanding, brutal kiss. Under normal circumstances, her response would be swift and lusty. But these weren’t normal circumstances by any means.
And Raphael was no Reaver.
Wedging her hands between them, she palmed his chest and shoved, breaking the kiss. “Don’t do this.”
“I am doing this. I’m claiming you.” He was so arrogant, so sure she’d fall under his spell.
She shoved him again, but he didn’t budge. “No one claims me.”
Except that wasn’t entirely true, was it? When she and Reaver had been in the Boregate, what he’d done to her had felt like a possession, and God help her, she thought maybe that was okay.
“You’re mine, Verrine.” Raphael’s voice throbbed with authority, the kind that made even high-ranking angels cower before him. “You should have been mine thousands of years ago, but you gave everything up for that loser Yenrieth.”
She inhaled sharply, a vicious stab of realization piercing her gut. “That’s why you didn’t want me to fall, isn’t it,” she said hoarsely. “It had nothing to do with the fact that you thought it was a crazy idea. You didn’t want me to go because you wanted me for yourself.”
How could she have been so blind? Raphael had been a rakish novice archangel at the time she and Yenrieth were in their training, and he’d made himself available to keep her company when Yenrieth was off either hunting minor demons or looking for a female with a warm bed.
“He’ll never be faithful to you,” Raphael had said. “It’s not in his nature. Battle angels were bred to fight and breed more warriors. They’re soldiers. Dumb muscle. You need someone with brains, someone who can stand by your side for life and never look at another female.”
Like an idiot, she’d been too naive to recognize Raphael’s attempts to lure her into his own bed.
“Yes,” Raphael said. “I wanted you.” His smile was very cat-and-mouse, and she was the mouse. “And now I have you.”
“You don’t have me.” She tried to slip out from under him, but he blocked her with his body and tightened his grip on her shoulder. The sensation of being trapped left her struggling to breathe normally.
“But why now?” she asked, her mind racing to make sense of this. “It’s been almost five thousand years. You didn’t get over me in that much time?” Not that she had a lot of room to talk, given that she’d carried a torch for Yenrieth for just as long.
“Time runs differently in Heaven. You know that. It feels like yesterday, not centuries.”
He had a point. But she wasn’t going to acknowledge it. “You didn’t want me to be rescued. You wanted me to rot in Satan’s torture chambers. How can you claim to want me if you didn’t care that I was going to suffer and die?”
“I did care,” he said fiercely. “But leaving you there was for the greater good.”
“Funny how the greater good doesn’t feel so good when you’re the one with the hot poker in your bowels.”
Raphael swallowed audibly, and she swore she saw genuine regret in his expression. “I’m sorry. I never wanted you to suffer. But now that you’re here, I can make it up to you.”
“That’s very touching, but no.”
“No… what?” he prompted.
Was he being deliberately dense? “I won’t be your… whatever it is you want me for.”
Reaching out, he brushed a knuckle over her cheek, a gentle gesture that she might have fallen for when she was Verrine. Now she didn’t want his attention. Now she knew he could be as cruel as he was tender.
“Oh, I think you will,” Raphael drawled, and she broke out in gooseflesh as a sensation of impending doom sank into her gut. “See, I’m going to make you a deal.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What kind of deal?”
“I promise to keep you safe from Satan. You’re vulnerable while you’re in the human realm. Come with me, and he won’t be able to touch you ever again. In addition, I won’t destroy Reaver for what he’s done.” Raphael smile was wolfish, a predator that had pinned the deer. “In exchange, you agree to be my consort.”
The asshole thought he had her, didn’t he? She returned his smile. “Tell you what. I keep myself safe, you don’t destroy Reaver, and I don’t become your consort. In exchange, I tell you where Gethel is.”
He laughed. “We know where she is. We nabbed the demon you hitched a ride with in the Harrowgate.” He took Harvester’s hand and squeezed as if he owned her. “So what’s it to be? A ceremony for Reaver’s execution, or a ceremony binding us together forever?”
A thought occurred to her, a terrible, ugly thought, and she drew in a ragged breath. “This isn’t about me, is it? This is about hurting Reaver. That’s why you wanted me to torture him.”
He smoothed his finger over her cheek, and her skin crawled. “You’re part right. I did want him to suffer, but this isn’t about him. It really is about you. As I said, I’ve wanted you for a long time.” His vile touch moved south, down her neck to her collarbone, where he slid his finger under the strap of her tank top. “But if it makes you feel any better, remember when I threatened to take away your memories of Yenrieth if you didn’t torture him?”
“Gee, no,” she gritted out. “Totally forgot.”
“You’ll have to stop with the sarcasm. I don’t like it,” he said, and yeah, she’d get right on that.
“What does any of this have to do with my memories?”
He shrugged. “I lied. I couldn’t have taken your memories,” he said, and a blast of betrayal and fury blindsided her. Was the truth so fucking hard for people? “The blood bond with Yenrieth saved you from the full memory wipe everyone else got. Nothing can change that. Not even an archangel.” That last part came out with so much bitterness she could practically taste it on her own tongue.
Harvester had spent five thousand years in hell with demons so evil that even Satan contained them. And yet, Raphael, an angel of Heaven, was one of the biggest fiends she’d ever known.
And in order to save Reaver, she was going to be forced to spend the rest of eternity with the fiend.
For a split second, the length of half a heartbeat, her inner evil rose up and considered turning Raphael down. But she squashed the thought immediately. As jumbled as her feelings were about Reaver right now, she was one hundred percent certain that she couldn’t see him die.
“You sick, twisted bastard,” she rasped. “I hate you. No matter how long we’re together, I will despise every breath you take.”
He grinned. “Then a mating ceremony, it is.”
Twenty-Five
Reaver woke in
the triage tent in Underworld General’s parking lot. Eidolon hovered next to the bed, Ares, Thanatos, and Reseph flanking him.
“Behold,” Eidolon said. “The angel awakens.”
“I’m guessing I owe you my life.” Owing a demon anything was never ideal, but Reaver knew Eidolon well enough to know the doctor would never abuse leverage. Reaver tried to sit, but heavy straps held him down. “And why am I restrained?”
“Because it took five Sems, including me, to remove the aurial without killing you.” Eidolon flipped the releases on the restraints. “You didn’t handle it well.”
No, a demon channeling power into him while he was unconscious would trigger an angelic instinct to fight. He was lucky his body had accepted Seminus healing energy in the first place. Most angels couldn’t be healed by demons. “Where’s Harvester? What happened?”
“She sent for us to bring you here,” Reseph said. “You almost died.”
Thanatos moved closer to the bed, his accusing gaze cutting deep. “Why did you go to Sheoul to save her? Lorelia and Revenant claimed she was a spy.” He clenched his fists at his sides, as if wishing Harvester’s neck was between them. “But that’s bullshit. She plotted with Pestilence to start the Apocalypse and murder my son.”
Reseph turned a little green at the mention of Pestilence, while Ares folded his arms across his chest, watching with assessing eyes. Of all the Horsemen, he was the one who could be the most level-headed and would likely approve of everything Harvester did over the centuries for the sake of victory. But he was also the one who would be the least understanding of what Reaver had done, because Reaver had done it out of emotion, not logic.
The bed creaked as Reaver sat up, and oh, look at that. He was naked. He snatched a bed sheet and covered his lap while Eidolon dug a set of scrubs from out of a cabinet.
“Harvester didn’t plot to do any of that,” Reaver said. “Your Watchers are right. She volunteered to fall from Heaven in order to watch over all of you.”
“The hell she did.” Thanatos’s anger was accompanied by a whoosh of souls escaping his armor to writhe at his feet. Their desire to kill in order to be free of his armor forever had them stretching the limits of their invisible tethers.
