by Alisa Woods
Eden gave her a pitying look that hollowed out Molly’s soul. She’d never seen anything so dark. “Nothing’s ever going to be good again, Moll. You should know that by now.”
Ren’s eyes went wide, panicked. But her mouth just fell open, no words coming out.
And what could she say?
Eden tugged her hand away, closed her eyes, and lay back down.
Ren and Molly shared a look of horror, then Molly quickly tugged her up and away from Eden’s cot. She tipped her head toward the door. They weren’t going anywhere, but that was the furthest they could get from their cluster of cots in the middle of the room. Maybe it wouldn’t matter if Eden overheard them, but Molly could at least try.
Just short of the door, Molly pulled Ren to a stop. “It’s happening tomorrow.”
“What? You mean—”
Molly’s nod cut her off. “Ariel’s getting us out. She’s going with us—me, Eden, Ralphie, Eva. Tell me now if you’re coming. Because I can’t argue with you about this in front of Eden. She’s too fragile. I don’t want her to…” She swallowed. “I just need to get her out of here. Somewhere out of reach of… him. Then we can work on getting her healed, okay? And really… I could really use your help with this, Ren. But if you’re staying, you need to tell me. Now.”
Ren was stricken, listening to the whole running monologue, aggressively chewing her lip. Then she nodded. Vigorously. “I’m going with you.”
Relief sagged Molly’s shoulders. “Not going to change your mind?”
“No.”
“Even if Micah—”
“Even if Micah.”
“Okay.” And that was probably the best Molly would get. “Tomorrow.”
Ren straightened to her full height and stopped biting her lip. “I’ll be ready.”
Molly sincerely hoped so.
Chapter Seven
Arriving in enemy territory, even accompanied by an angel, is risky business.
Zuriel escorted Asa via interdimensional travel into the heart of Elyon’s Regiment… and it was like setting off an angeling bomb. Wings erupted everywhere, taking flight. The shush of blades leaving their sheaths cut the air. Elyon himself leaped from his throne to stand on the balcony outside his palace, flinging off the angelings who had been attending him.
The only reason Zuriel and Asa weren’t dead was because she pulsed the full strength of her power into a blast that swept all but Elyon from the black crystal balcony.
“Elyon!” she called out with full ear-blasting angelsong. “I come with an offer, my most angry of Dark Lords.”
Maybe it was the angelsong. Maybe the honeyed request that came after. Asa couldn’t tell, but Elyon didn’t return that blast with one of his own. He simply regarded Zuriel with suspicion and loathing that, if matched with magical intent, would reduce a lesser being to a puddle. Angelings lived a long time—not truly immortal, but hundreds of years—but Asa had never felt his mortality as thoroughly as when he stood between two true immortals, towering and terrifying in all their angel power. Zuriel’s dress of smoke and black crystal misted around her. Elyon’s massive wings spread behind him, as midnight as the rough battle armor that instantly appeared upon their arrival. His white-silver hair floated in a magical wind around him, whereas Zuriel’s black tresses were like ink stirring in unseen currents.
The air thrummed with the power of both.
“Zuriel,” Elyon acknowledged, his voice temperate, not the angelsong Zuriel had blasted through them all. “Have you reconsidered your unfortunate lack of faith in my plans?”
“Not exactly.” Somehow her voice cushioned that fall. “But one of my most trusted warriors has pleaded otherwise. Asa would like to join your coalition. He will be my emissary, and should he report back favorably, I’d be inclined to send more warriors to stand by his side.”
“How… interesting,” Elyon said coolly. “So you are in the habit of having angelings sway you on matters of your Regiment.”
A twitter went around, Elyon’s angelings having come down from their initial shock and now snickering at Zuriel’s expense.
“I know when to listen to others who are making sense,” she replied.
Asa flicked a look at his literal Guardian Angel—she was oversized now, to match Elyon’s physical manifestation, but that retort… Asa was surprised Elyon didn’t take it as the slam it was.
Could an angel be dull-witted? The thought had never occurred to him, but then Asa had spent all his time growing up in a light angel’s Dominion, and all his time while in shadow in Razael’s Regiment—and it was increasingly clear how unique Razael was among the dark angels. Asa’s brief time attempting a suicidal attack on Elyon’s Regiment was made outside of the keep, and he only survived it because Elyon had not been present—and Razael’s forces happened to clash with Elyon’s at the same time. In short, Elyon had never seen Asa’s face, and Asa had never witnessed the small mind of such a large and powerful angel in action.
But Asa’s dark need for vengeance—revenge for the death of his Ellie—pulsed as strongly in his soul as that day he found her floating in her own blood. That need had broken him, and the chasm in his soul remained to this day.
“And this one is your offering?” Elyon smiled in a way that surged Asa’s need to destroy him even stronger. It took everything in his power to keep silent.
“His name is Asa, and I’d prefer to get him back in one piece.”
“This is war, Zuriel, not a walkabout.” Elyon was mocking her again, his smile lazy and broad for the surge in snickering all around him.
“Well, I certainly won’t be sending you more of my warriors if you get this one killed immediately.”
The humor fell from Elyon’s face. “Very well. I accept your offer. He will go into rotation with my angelings and see the war we are bringing to lightkind. Perhaps then you will realize the full extent of your folly in not joining me.” Then he trained his dark eyes on Asa. “Your Wrath will find a home here, young angeling.” He smiled the way a viper does.
“It will be my pleasure to serve your cause.” Asa didn’t risk saying more. Elyon saw what he wanted in Asa’s soul, just as he’d hoped.
Zuriel turned to face him. “Report back in a week.”
He tipped his head. He hoped to be through in much less time, but it was good to have a deadline—one Elyon would be forced to reckon with if Asa went missing.
Or his true intent was discovered.
Zuriel twisted, opened a doorway, and traveled back to her Regiment.
Asa held his breath and turned to face Elyon. “Your wish, my lord?” He figured Elyon would either smite him the moment Zuriel was gone, or he would be sent straight away to the battle on the streets of Seattle—at which point he would have room to seek Elyon’s son, Micah, on his own.
Instead, Elyon ignored him. “Micah,” he called out, jolting Asa’s heart.
What? How was he… did Elyon know? Asa held still, breath frozen in his chest, as an angeling emerged from the gathered crowd on the balcony.
“Yes, father?” He fit the description Oriel had given of Elyon’s son.
Asa’s heart thudded erratically. He hoped Elyon would take no notice of that.
The angel waved a dismissive hand at Asa. “Assign this one to the nursery. Make sure he sees no action whatsoever. We wouldn’t want to risk a single feather on this precious one’s wings.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd, wings rustling and eyes measuring.
The nursery? Elyon was putting him on babysitting duty? Razael had nothing of the kind—he actively forbade his angelings from creating more of their kind—but Asa knew Elyon grew his numbers by exactly that. Breeding.
“What of his report back to Zuriel?” Micah seemed agitated for reasons Asa couldn’t understand—but Asa was frozen in objecting because contacting Elyon’s son was his entire mission, and here Micah stood before him.
“I am, of course, willing to serve duty time on whatever assignment is req
uired.” Asa was bumbling this—he couldn’t seem too eager. “But if I don’t have some knowledge of the war—”
It was only a flicker in Elyon’s eyes, but an unseen force blasted Asa, sending him hurtling off the balcony and crashing into several angelings mid-flight. He tumbled briefly, then spread his wings and caught himself, looping back, bruised but essentially unharmed.
He hesitated… then landed on the balcony once more. “Or as my lord wishes.” He dropped his gaze, head bent, in a properly servile way.
Elyon chuffed his laughter, and his angelings joined him.
All except Micah, whose dark brown eyes were boring into Asa. He was suspicious. Asa couldn’t decide if that was good or not. A female angeling with jet black hair and a warrior’s outfit stepped from the crowd, coming up to Micah from behind to whisper something to him. He ignored her and strode forward to Asa.
Miraculously, Asa kept his triumph locked inside.
“Come with me,” Micah said, then roughly clamped a hand on Asa’s shoulder.
He wrenched Asa through an interdimensional door. They reappeared just outside a physical door in a dark crystal hallway—one with a half-asleep angeling sitting on a chair. The angeling jolted awake then scrambled to standing when he saw Micah.
“Leave us,” Micah growled.
The angeling twisted right out of there without hesitation.
This was all moving so fast. Asa had assumed it would take effort to actually hunt down Micah and gain an opportunity to speak to him. Suddenly, they were alone in Elyon’s palace, and he wasn’t at all sure what to say. Game for betraying your father? He’d have to hold back, gain Asa’s confidence—
Micah’s blade was suddenly at his neck, forcing him back against the cool surface of the wall.
“Wha—” But Asa couldn’t even get that out before the air popped with another angeling making an entrance.
“Oh, good!” It was the female from the balcony, the one who’d tried to catch Micah’s attention. “You’ve got him right where I want him.”
Asa just stared. What the hell was happening?
“What do you want, Terah?” Micah grumbled, but he eased off the blade at Asa’s throat.
Terah scowled. “Well, don’t stop now!”
Micah gave her a perplexed look, beckoning her to explain. For which Asa was grateful—then they’d both know what was going on.
“I was trying to tell you,” she snarled. “I don’t trust this one.”
Micah leaned back, flicking looks between Terah and Asa. “You know him?” he asked Terah.
“Do I know you?” Asa demanded. His heart was slamming his chest. He was almost certain he’d never actually seen her—but had she seen him? Oriel had shared all kinds of information about her—Terah, Magis in Elyon’s Regiment, one of his most trusted advisors, yet subversive and a potential target for turning against Elyon. It was possible she’d been at one of the many melees where they’d taken on Elyon’s forces, fighting hand to hand. Asa didn’t remember her, but if she was already on to him…
“Don’t flatter yourself, Fiesty.” But she gave him another scan like she wasn’t sure. Then to Micah, she said, “I don’t trust the Wrath-Fallen. They have issues.”
“I know,” he complained, but the venom wasn’t there. Not until he turned to face Asa. “Which is why we’re going to come to an understanding.”
How did he manage to piss these people off? “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“Shut up, Wrath-Fallen,” Terah snapped. She sighed and turned to Micah. “Things are just… delicate, right now. But you’re right—killing him probably isn’t the way to go. Messy. But don’t trust him, either.”
“I’ve got this handled.” Micah only seemed slightly annoyed.
“All right.” She gave another pinched look to Asa. “I’m watching you, brown eyes.”
And with that mysterious warning, she twisted away.
Then Micah’s attention—and blade—were on him again. But this time, he held back, just pointing the tip at Asa’s chest. “Let’s get something straight—of the three women in the nursery, two are untouchable. The one called Eden belongs to Elyon. If you touch her, expect to die by his hand in a way more painful than anything you can imagine.”
“Understood.” But Asa’s eyes went wide. Did Micah expect him to seduce the women in the nursery? Or worse, get them with child? Was that what comprised nursery duty? “And the other?”
Micah’s eyes gained back some of the fire from before. “Ren belongs to me. You so much as drool in her direction, and I will remove your head.”
“Of course.” Asa had to fight to suppress his smile. This was it—this was Asa’s vulnerability. He’d fallen for a human, and with the storied brutality of Elyon’s Regiment, love wasn’t something that could be easily sustained. If Elyon even knew, it might be dangerous.
“The third one has been discarded,” Micah said. “You can do with her as you wish.”
Do as he wished? Asa worked hard to keep the disgust off his face. He struggled for the right response, but Micah had already shoved past him to reach the door. He threw it open and strode in. Asa hurried to follow, quickly taking in the room. It was vast, and there was a raucous fight happening at the far end. His hand automatically went to his blade, but he kept it sheathed as he realized… they were just young ones. Angeling children, by their small black wings and light angelsong cries.
It was like the training rooms of his youth, growing up in Etheral’s Dominion—a sudden and unexpected pang in his heart for the lost innocence of his youth hit him hard. He stumbled to a stop and stared. That legion of bright souls was lost to him when he went on walkabout and became one of the Fallen. He never knew what happened to them—Sarif and Elirael, Zifair and Tarip. They were his friends. His family. Had they survived their walkabout with their glowing white wings intact? Did they return to make their vows to the light angel of their choice? He didn’t know. But these children in the nursery weren’t engaged in the friendly combat of the cohort of his youth. These were using rough-hewn knives to draw blood and give torment—they were in shadow, their innocence stolen as soon as they were born.
It was the nightmare the light angels had saved him from. And he’d failed the angels with his Fall, ending up in shadow despite their best efforts to redeem him. Asa blinked and forced himself out of that painful reverie.
Micah had drawn ahead, already reaching a small cluster of three women, their human souls shining like the sun. One—a blond who rivaled angelkind with her beauty—held a baby. The one with the cascading brown hair was already in Micah’s arms, the angeling’s kiss possessive and for all to see. The third was striking—red hair like a flame, eyes blazing green, and a lush body filled with womanly curves.
Micah broke the kiss, and all were staring at Asa as he belatedly approached.
“Ren is mine,” Micah said, his voice hoarse as he held the brunette tightly around the waist. As if he had not just warned Asa off the woman he loved—this was clearly for her to hear.
“Micah, honey—” she started.
Micah cut her off with a look then he pointed to the blond. “Eden belongs to Elyon.”
The woman’s eyes glazed, and she held the baby closer. Asa couldn’t even imagine the horrors she’d been subjected to. A sourness etched the back of his throat.
Then Micah lifted his chin to the redhead, whose eyes were even more on fire now, staring a terrified hatred at Micah. “Molly is yours if you wish.”
Asa flicked a hard look to him—was this something expected?
But Micah had turned his attention back to the lovely woman in his arms. “Come with me,” he whispered then hustled her away, heading to the side of the cavernous room. There was a pair of tents against one wall, and that seemed their destination.
What in the name of magic?
The blond woman—Eden—bent to pick up a second baby out of her small crib. The woman’s lips were trembling, and her face p
ale, but she said nothing, just drifted away with the children. Holy angels in heaven… surely she didn’t expect…
He turned to face the redhead, Molly…
And found a blade in his face.
“You touch me, and I cut you,” she said.
He couldn’t help himself—the absurdity of the situation—he laughed.
Chapter Eight
He was laughing at her.
Molly kept the knife trained on him anyway, willing her hand to stop shaking. She had no illusions—no way could she stop him. But she sure as hell could make him pay for it.
His laughter faded, but there was still humor in his eyes. “You know that won’t hurt me, right?’
“Depends what I cut off.” Asshole.
He huffed a laugh again, but he wasn’t coming any closer. He was big—broad shoulders, dark hair, sexy-fierce brown eyes dancing like this was all a fucking joke to him. Even had he been human, she wouldn’t have been able to fight him off. But he wasn’t human—he was an angeling, even if his wings were hidden at the moment. He could do whatever he wanted to her—but she’d draw at least a little blood first. Even if he laughed through it.
His humor finally settled. “I’m not going to touch you, Molly.”
“Damn right, you’re not.” But her heart lurched. Did he mean it? Or was he toying with her? Getting her to drop her guard? She didn’t lower the weapon.
His expression grew serious. “You have nothing to fear from me,” he said more softly. “I would not dishonor myself by forcing myself on a woman.”
Dishonor? What? Was that even a thing here? She squinted at him. “Are you sure you’re in the right place?”
A small flash of panic crossed his face. Huh? It was gone an instant later, but she saw it. This guy was hiding something…
But then his tone was cool as a cucumber. “I’m on loan from another Regiment,” he said quietly. “There, we don’t force people into sexual acts against their will.” And he seemed to actually mean that—like it was a point of pride or something.
