Revenant

His spectacular wings folded against his back and disappeared. “For deceiving me or for being a vyrm?”

“Either, I suppose.” How nice that they could so civilly discuss her demise.

“Three weeks ago I’d have killed you for either,” he said, his voice as cold and sharp as a frozen blade. “I thought I was a fallen angel with a directive to kill vyrm… and all beings considered to be abominations. Satan hates half-breeds.”

“And now?” A shiver racked her body, and she hated herself for it, because fear wasn’t the only thing running the show. Just standing near Revenant made her heart flutter and her sex ache, and how crazy was that? Talk about your mixed messages. Please don’t kill me. But if you do, can you give me an orgasm first?

And she couldn’t even blame her False Angel enchantment, because if Gem was right, there was very little left of it. A glance at the scar on her wrist confirmed her worst fear. It was all but gone; only a pinprick of faded white flesh was visible above a blue vein at the base of her palm.

“Now… I don’t know.” He clenched his fists as if doing so would keep him from wrapping his hands around her throat.

Closing her eyes, she rubbed her temples in hopes that she could massage her brain into thinking more clearly.

“What did you mean when you said you saved my soul?” She opened her eyes and met his gaze, which flickered with some unidentifiable emotion.

“I stopped you from killing Lucifer.”

Her heart plummeted to her feet. Oh, gods. He knew? How? She opened her mouth to deny it, but that would just be another lie. Instead, indignant anger gave her a voice.

“Bullshit,” she snapped. “You didn’t stop me because you care about the state of my soul. You stopped me because Lucifer is evil and he plays on your team.”

The air, which smelled like someone had left fish sticks baking in the oven when they fled the cafeteria, went eerily still.

“No, Blaspheme,” he said, his voice as dark and hollow as the inside of a body bag, “I wanted him dead. He tormented me and my mother every day for years. He defiled…” Averting his gaze, he inhaled raggedly, and Blaspheme’s heart squeezed painfully tight. “He defiled us both. Then he spent thousands of years screwing me over, framing me for shit just to watch Satan torture me… fucking asshole. The day he died was the best day of my life. Now he’s coming back, and it means jack shit that I’m more powerful than he is. Satan will favor him. Heaven doesn’t want me, so all I have is hell. And trust me, if you have to do Satan’s bidding, you either want to be his right-hand man, or you want to fly under the radar. I’m not under the radar anymore.” His eyes snapped up, and in their shadowy depths Blaspheme saw unimaginable pain. “I can’t be second to Lucifer again. I… can’t. But I couldn’t watch you do something that would haunt you forever. You’re a healer, not a killer.”

Oh, sweet hell. She couldn’t even begin to understand what he’d gone through, but she now understood how much of a sacrifice he’d made for her.

“And,” he said with a roll of his eyes, “I went back to Gethel’s and got the vampire.” He lowered his voice to a mumble, even though there was no one around to hear him, and she swore the faintest blush spread over his cheeks. “And the kittens.”

Blaspheme stared, and for a moment, she almost believed that she must be part Soulshredder, because the big, dangerous Shadow Angel radiating death like a malevolent power plant had morphed into something else before her very eyes. Something more relatable. Something admirable. And yet, something no less dangerous.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked. “I should have injected Lucifer. I should have been stronger. I screwed up —”

In an instant, she was in his arms, held tight against him, his mouth crushing hers in a punishing kiss. Her senses reeled as he thrust his tongue between her lips before speaking. “No. Killing isn’t in your nature. Never apologize for things that aren’t in your control.”

His words sapped the energy from her muscles, and she sagged against him, clinging to his leather-clad biceps with a white-knuckled grip. “We’ll destroy him. Somehow, we’ll find a way to rid the world of him for good.”

He tucked her head against his broad chest and stroked her hair with a tenderness that left her floored. “My priority is to get you out of danger.”

“I’m afraid,” she whispered, relieved to finally confide in him. “My False Angel enchantment is failing —”

He pulled back so suddenly she swayed. “Then we fix it.” The determination in his expression would have terrified her if he hadn’t just sworn he wouldn’t hurt her. “Now.”

“I’m trying, but I’m not going to sacrifice anyone to do it.” She gestured to the papers and books. “I’ve found a way… I think. I just can’t figure out all of it.”

He released her carefully, as if he was fully aware that her legs felt like rubber. “You have a Pruosi book of necromancy. How did you get it? The Pruosi don’t just give those up.”

“I have a friend.”

“Some friend,” he murmured as he braced his fists on the table and leaned over to look at her notes. “Essence of death?”

“Yes. That’s what I’m having trouble with.” It occurred to her that she was discussing how to save her life with the male who killed her father, but if Revenant could help her, she had to try. “Essence of death or the tears of the hungry. I need one of those ingredients. And the blood of a legend or something.” She rubbed her temples. “I don’t know. The translations are kicking my ass, and I’m running out of time.”