Israfel laughed gently, like he’d heard a secret joke.
Kim turned the blade slightly against Israfel’s neck, spiderwebbing more blood across his beautiful skin. “Remember, there is only one Archon, Angela. But there are two who can be the Ruin. I’ve known this, and Lucifel has known for a long time. Troy might have been right: the Archon doesn’t necessarily have to be Raziel himself. Perhaps She is only protected by Raziel. But either way, I want to find out. For your sake.”
For both their sakes.
“I want you to make the smart choice, the best choice, and to have me by your side when you make it.”
“So . . . you want me to take Lucifel’s place. You want me on the Throne of Hell.” Her voice was a murmur, barely audible above the storm.
“Not so much to take it, as to consider it. The option is better than what he”—Kim’s hand shivered, the knife scratching more blood out of Israfel—“has to offer you. Either way, life will be a living hell from this point on. The time to be an ordinary girl is over.”
At the word ordinary, Angela’s eyes widened.
“Angela,” he pressed further, aware of how vulnerable he sounded. “You have to trust me.”
She gazed at him, obviously confused. “Troy will kill you. What reason would she have to keep you alive?”
“She won’t know. We’ll leave before she knows.”
“For where?”
He sighed again, trying to control himself. Was she being deliberately obtuse, or was she just trying to gauge how committed he was? “For Hell.”
Her breast heaved gently, and Kim overflowed with the madness of wanting to murder Israfel and kiss it, just as he had the other night. He beckoned her closer, yearning inside. “Come with me, Angela. That pleasure we shared was a real thing. I know you want more of it. I know how much you want to step all over this world, to crush it beneath your heel, like it has crushed you time and again. I see it in your eyes. We’ll work this out, together, because you and I are the same.”
She closed them, sighing along with the temptation of his voice. “I don’t know . . .”
“Angela . . .”
When she opened them again, they were wide, blindingly blue, and utterly fearless.
But it was Israfel who answered for her. “I think I’ve heard enough.”
He snapped his fingers.
Kim’s lips sealed shut against his will.
Another snap of his fingers.
The knife whipped out of Kim’s hand, clattering pathetically onto the tiles. Then Israfel lifted his hand and curled his palm, freezing Kim into place.
The angel spun around, smiling and lovely, the most beautiful creature that could be imagined. His eyes were so proud, his lips so sensual, his face so perfect that it nearly took Kim’s breath away. He was like a delicate swan—but one that hid all the inner stealth of a tiger. It was only through harsh experience that Kim knew the truth, even if Angela couldn’t see through Israfel’s veneer. The angel didn’t have Troy’s sharp teeth, but they were far more alike than they first seemed.
Now, he was in real danger.
“For a priest, you seem to be somewhat agitated. I also think you’re mistaken. You see, this young woman is no longer your property, Kim.” He said his name with subtle and deep dislike. “You’ve also injured me, claimed some kind of backward loyalty to my sister, and made a mess of my coat.”
Israfel looked to Angela, his voice honey sweet. “Shall I kill him?”
She stared at Kim, silent. She didn’t seem as upset as he’d expected, but it was obvious she was trying to peer through him, as if she could peel back more layers and see how honest he was being.
This was a problem for them both.
Kim couldn’t say that he loved Angela. It was too soon for love. But he could say with all sincerity that the thought of her sharing anything with Israfel nearly made him crazy, and that for her to be out of his sight was painful. If he could, he would have forced out the memories of how easily they’d seduced each other, how perfect she felt against his legs, and how powerful their connection had been.
Maybe she was remembering. For a moment, she hesitated, creeping closer to him.
“No,” she said, and her face reddened. “Don’t kill him.”
Angela slipped around Israfel, and except for Sophia’s dark presence, she seemed on the same level as the angel, powerful and suddenly intimidating, and not even knowing it. Maybe that was the real reason behind Kim’s desire, his infatuation. He was enthralled, absolutely, by the sinister mystery of her soul. Mikel’s words continued to echo, reminding him of how ignorant humanity could be: If she is not the Archon . . . then we are all very mistaken about who the Archon is . . .