If he was a decent guy, he’d feel bad for using her to do what he couldn’t, but he wasn’t decent. He’d been raised to be a demon, and he was doing exactly what a demon would do; he was plotting to get rid of his rival before said rival was even born. And he was going to keep his own hands clean by getting others to do the wet work.
So, no, he wasn’t decent.
Blaspheme, on the other hand, seemed to be suffering terribly from that affliction. Sure, he was reasonably certain she’d lied to Gethel about her diet, but doing so might have saved a lot of young lives.
“Gethel isn’t really suffering from vitamin and fiber deficiency, is she?” he asked. “You just wanted her to stop feeding on infants.”
Blas shrugged. “Maybe. Are you angry?”
On the contrary, he was fascinated. False Angels were known to lure humans away from their children so other demons could snatch them. But for all Blaspheme knew, she could have been risking her life to save a few young creatures by lying to Satan’s baby mama. A couple of weeks ago, he’d have been disgusted. Now he was definitely fascinated.
“Well?” she prompted. “Are you pissed?”
He shrugged. “Will saying yes get me laid?”
“Not by me,” she said.
“What if I say no?”
“Same thing.”
“Disappointing.”
Blaspheme rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you the Horsemen’s evil Watcher? Don’t you have things to do?” She started toward the sliding glass emergency department doors, and yes, he had shit to do, but first…
In a lightning-fast surge, he spun her and put her spine to the wall. Startled blue eyes stared up at him. Her lips parted in surprise, and he took instant advantage, lowering his mouth to hers in a fierce, demanding kiss. She inhaled harshly, and for a moment he was sure she’d push him away, but as he slid one arm around her waist and crushed her to him, she kissed him back.
Her lips were soft, tasting of vanilla and mint, and even though she kissed him tentatively, barely brushing her lips over his, his cock stirred. He wondered if the ambulances behind him ever saw any action, because he’d love to scoop her up and get hot and heavy in the back of one.
Then she was shoving against him, the heels of her palms jamming hard into his rib cage. “We’re not doing this,” she said. “I need to get back to work.”
“What about after work?”
“Gods, you’re persistent,” she muttered. “And no. Not after work. I don’t want to see you again until you come by my office tomorrow for Gethel’s lab results.” She slipped out from under him. “Good-bye, Revenant.”
She practically ran inside the hospital, and this time he let her go. Tomorrow would be a new day. Right now he had a few things to do, and at the top of the list was paying a visit to Harvester. She might not have the answers he needed, but maybe she could help him get them.
He opened himself up to what he called his Watcher Awareness, allowing him to sense each of the Horsemen and Harvester, if she was in close proximity to one of them. Instantly, he felt her. She was inside a quantamun, a bubble-like plane of existence that allowed users to move, unseen, in the Earthly realm. Focusing on her signature, he flashed to her.
It took a moment to figure out where they were, because they weren’t at any of the Horsemen’s residences. Well, not exactly.
They were standing in the woods near a log cabin set a few dozen yards away from a larger cabin where one of the Horsemen, Reseph, lived with his mate, Jillian. Harvester was watching a tall, broad male sweep the porch, her attention so focused that she didn’t notice Revenant materialize next to her.
She was dressed in form-fitting black jeans, knee-high leather boots, and a leather corset that emphasized her narrow waist and ample breasts he’d admired for centuries. Too bad the former fallen angel had hated him with a passion. They could have rocked the underworld from his bedroom.
Now that she was an angel again, he wondered if she was still as wild in the sack as she was rumored to have been. Reaver would know, wouldn’t he? Reaver, who had been given everything Revenant hadn’t, from a privileged childhood with people who raised him with love, to four extraordinary children, and a mate who adored him.
Way to feel sorry for yourself. Yeah, he knew he was wasting brainpower dwelling on all of that shit, but he also had five thousand years of hell to sift through, and each new memory brought him more fucking reminders that Heaven had screwed him over.
Shoving his baggage into the back of his head, he sauntered toward the angel. “’Sup, Verrine?”
Hissing, Harvester spun around. “Don’t call me that.”