A low, menacing growl came from deep in her chest, and the tips of her horns erupted through her hair. “I hope he tortured her. I hope he did to her what he did to me.” A shudder shook her, and he reached for her again, but she hissed and knocked his hand away with a flare of power that singed the hair on his arm. “Were you upset about losing your lover?”
Shit. She was starting to go over the edge, and once that happened he’d be screwed. As calmly as he could, he said, “You know I wasn’t. I hated her, remember?” He doubted she saw the irony in him asking her if she remembered.
“You fucked her.” Suddenly, pain clamped down on his skull and pressure compressed his chest. “You hurt me.”
“Harvester,” he croaked. “Stop.”
She didn’t listen. Her eyes went ebony with irrational fury as she slammed her hands into his ribs and sent a blast of electric agony into his body. Clenching his teeth, he groaned and dug deep for the last drop of power he had.
With a whispered command, he released it into the air, enveloping them both in a bubble of exhaustion. It was a last-ditch move that affected them both, and even as she began to return to normal, he felt his eyelids droop.
Harvester slumped to the mattress. “What,” she said tiredly, “did you do?”
Oh, nothing. I just made us both vulnerable to anyone or anything that happens upon us. He just had to hope she was right and that nothing moved during the night in this realm.
Her eyes closed, and she let out a delicate snore. He tried to stay awake, but he was definitely falling victim to his own weapon. His muscles turned to pudding and he fell onto the mattress next to her. With another little snore, Harvester rolled over, bumping her forehead against his. Closing his eyes, he listened to her breathe. He was willing to bet that very few males had ever listened to her sleep. She wouldn’t want to be that vulnerable.
How lonely would that have been? He reached out and carefully tucked her closer, until she was curled into his chest, her arm across his waist. This felt familiar, and when a memory of them lying, fully clothed on a beach of white sand, popped into his head, he knew why.
Damn, but she’d been warm back then.
Floating on a raft of regret, he drifted off…
And woke to the sound of screams. Harvester jackknifed into a sit next to him. “What is it?”
“I don’t know.” He leaped off the bed and threw open the door. Outside it was dawn, and a mob of carrion wisps were screeching at something that seemed to be fighting its way from the center of the group.
“A darkman,” Harvester breathed. “Impossible. How the hell did he find us? My wards should have thrown him off track for days.”
“Worry about that later.” Reaver scooped up the backpack. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
She grabbed his wrist in a bruising hold. “Wait. Something’s not right.”
“Maybe your wards were defective. It doesn’t matter. We have to go.”
“My wards were fine. The darkman tracked us somehow.” She scowled. “Did anyone give you anything for the journey?”
“The lasher implants. Why?”
“Because supernatural objects can be enchanted to become homing beacons for darkmen. Only an angel could do that. Did the lasher implants come into contact with any angels that you know of?”
He shook his head. “Wraith would never have let them out of his sight once he had them. There’s no way—” He broke off as the answer hit him like a punch to the gut. “That bastard.”
“What is it?”
“The sheoulghuls.” He dug the crystals out of his pocket. “Raphael gave me one.”
Her eyes snapped up to his. “Holy fucknuts,” she whispered. “I told you not to trust him.”
“And you were right.” Reaver’s voice was wooden to his own ears. “He knew I’d come after you, and I fell right into his trap. I led the darkmen straight to you.”
Once again Revenant stood before Satan, and once again he wished he was anywhere but here. Anywhere.
Most demons and fallen angels, and even a few humans, would sell their own children at meat markets for the privilege of serving the Dark Lord. It was, after all, an honor to be considered one of Satan’s inner-circle minions. People dreamed of one day being at his side and in his service.
Those people were fucking stupid.
Only a stone-dumb idiot would want that. Satan’s lackeys rarely lived long. One screw-up and it was the ax. The literal ax. The Dark Lord didn’t believe in second chances.
He was also a big fan of shoot-the-fucking-messenger.
“You said your news is important.” The demon king turned away from the warg he’d been torturing for days. “It had better be. I’m about to break this werewolf assassin’s oath and find out who stole Harvester.”