Angels don’t feel pain. But that wind—the noise hurt.
The wind caught Sammael’s body and carried him into the air. He hung suspended, his wings flapping helplessly and his body straining, as Az slowly walked around him.
“There’s still time,” Az murmured, brows pulling together. “Ask forgiveness, brother. Change your ways and you can—”
Watch for an eternity. Hear the screams and do nothing. See the blood and only know the smell of death.
Sammael kept the smile on his face. “I ask for nothing. From now on, I take.” Lives. Souls. Everything.
Az’s eyes narrowed. “Then you die.”
With those words, he fell. The elaborate room vanished as Sammael plummeted from the sky. Wind whipped around him, biting into his flesh as he fell, faster, faster, and—
Agony ripped through his body. A white-hot fire consumed him, burning . . . ”Az!”
But his brother wasn’t helping him. No one helped him. He fell, and he burned. His wings—always the most sensitive part of his body—burned the longest, the hottest.
He screamed and screamed and seemed to fall forever.
When he hit, he expected death. Az had promised death.
But Sammael wasn’t dead. Broken, bloody, and burned, but not dead.
Not yet.
And that was just the start of the hell to come.
CHAPTER ONE
The devil owed her a favor, and it was time that Seline O’Shaw called in that debt.
“Well, well . . .” Sammael—Sam because he’d long ago dropped the more formal version of his name—raked her with his bright blue stare as she made her way across the crowded New Orleans club and to his side. “Come back for another dance, have you?” His deep voice cut easily through the laughter and whispers that floated in the air.
Dance. Seline’s eyes narrowed. “Not tonight.” No, tonight she was waiting tables at Sunrise and wearing one of those skimpy black dresses that all the waitresses were forced to squeeze into before each shift. Thankfully, she wasn’t scheduled to go onstage again. Too dangerous. She’d only danced twice, and she didn’t plan to hop up there again. Seline risked a quick glance over her shoulder. “I need to talk with you,” she said as her voice dropped.
Sam wasn’t alone. But then, he was the big, bad-ass Other in the city so he usually had company. Not guards exactly. Why would he need guards? If the stories were true, Sam could kill with a touch. The man wasn’t human, not even close.
So, no, the demons weren’t around to guard him, but she knew they were there to pretty much jump when he so much as whispered an order. Demon attack dogs.
“Go ahead,” he invited softly, his voice low and rumbling, “talk.”
Right. Like she was going to bare her soul with his two demon goons right next to him. And Seline knew the guys on either side of Sam were demons. Most folks probably would have thought they were humans—very dangerous looking humans—but not demons.
Seline wasn’t most folks, and she damn well knew a demon when she saw one. After all, she’d been born with the special curse of being able to see right past a demon’s glamour. She didn’t have the luxury of pretending that monsters weren’t real. She saw monsters every day.
And every time I look into the mirror.
“Alone.” She cleared her throat because the word came out way too husky. She really had to watch that. She wasn’t trying to seduce Sam, not yet anyway. “I need to talk to you . . .” She let her gaze dart to the goons. “Alone.”
Sam waved his right hand, and the demons rose. They disappeared into the crowd like good little flunkies even as Sam edged away from the table and closed in on her.
She didn’t back down. Seline tilted her head so she could meet his blue stare. The guy was big—had to be at least six feet three, maybe six feet four—muscled, and too sexy by far.
He was also the deadliest man she’d ever met. Don’t forget that. Remember who he is, what he is.
Death.
Strange. She’d never thought Death would be particularly sexy. He was.
His eyes were the brightest blue she’d ever seen. His cheeks were high, his jaw hard and strong, and his lips—sensual, but with an edge of cruelty she couldn’t miss.
Sam took her hand. “Come with me.”
A shiver slipped over her at his touch. She hadn’t expected her reaction to Sam. The first time she’d seen him, she’d . . . wanted him and that wasn’t the way things were supposed to work in her world. She was the one desired. The one wanted. That was the way she’d been made. She might not like the life she’d been given, but screw the bitching and moaning routine. Seline couldn’t control what she was, but she could use her power.
Sam led her through the crowd and to a small door on the side of the club. The private room. Yeah, she knew the place. She’d been working at Sunrise for a while now, and she’d learned the rules. This room was for the VIPs. A place for them to have quick sex, to run a business deal, or to party the night away. All without having to worry about any prying eyes watching.
Unless you wanted to be watched, because she knew some folks in Sunrise liked that, too.
The bouncer at the door immediately let Sam inside. Figured he’d get instant access because right then, she knew Sam was the most important VIP in the place.
Fear had a way of making certain people very, very important.
The door closed behind her with a soft click. No watching. Seline’s heart did a too-fast kick when Sam turned around and locked his stare on her. “Better now?” he asked with a twist of his lips. Sexy lips. “I’m all yours.” He crossed his arms over his chest and watched her with a gaze that always saw too much.
Oh, damn. She swallowed. Play the game. “I-I . . . you owe me, Sam.”
His dark brows—black to match his midnight mane of hair—rose. “Do I?” His voice was careless, but she saw the intensity in his eyes.
Seline nodded quickly. “I helped you before. I told you—told you when the shifter wanted you dead.” Who didn’t want him dead? But a few weeks ago, she’d tipped Sam off about the very dangerous coyote shifter who’d been hunting him. That tip-off should give her the bargaining power she needed right now.
His head inclined. “So you did.” His gaze raked her body, and that hot blue stare lingered a bit too long on her br**sts and her thighs.
The top of her “uniform” plunged right between her br**sts, and the skirt barely skimmed the tops of her thighs. She shifted slightly beneath his stare but quickly caught herself. “You owe me now, Sam,” she reminded him.