The walls were wisps of white and smoke, and as she watched, murals formed, seemingly alive, winged creatures, both angelic and demonic, soaring through a morning sky. They reminded her of Danika's paintings. Danika-the All-Seeing Eye who could glimpse into both heaven and hell. The floors, though comprised of that same ethereal substance, allowing a view of the land and people below, were somehow solid.
Angelic. Cloud. The lowest level of heaven? Dread flooded her as she spun to face the male who had grabbed her. "Angelic" described him perfectly. From the top of his pale head to the strength in that leanly muscled, sun-kissed body, to the golden wings stretching from his back. Even the white robe that fell to his ankles and the sandals wrapped around his feet gave him a saintly aura.
Was he an angel, then? Or a Sent One? Her heart skipped a beat. He wasn't human, that was for sure. No human male could ever hope to compare to such blinding perfection. But hello baby, those eyes...they were dark and hard and almost, well, empty.
His eyes don't matter. Angels and Sent Ones were demon assassins, and she was as close to a demon as a girl could get. After all, her ancestors hailed from the depths of hell. Long ago, fallen angels had mated with humans, and the children born from those union s had later mated with other humans, and her race was one of the results.
Unsure of what to do, Bianka strode around her blond; he remained in place, even when she was at his back, as if he had nothing to fear from her. Maybe he didn't. Obviously he had powers. One, he'd blocked her-she just couldn't get over that fact-and two, he'd somehow removed her coat and all her weapons without touching her.
"Are you an angel?" she asked when she was once again in front of him.
"No. I'm a Sent One."
Poor guy, she thought with a shudder. Clearly he had no idea the crappy hand he'd been dealt. If she had to choose between being a Sent One and a dog, she'd choose the dog. They, at least, were respectable.
She'd never been this close to a Sent One before. Seen one, yes. Or rather, seen what she'd thought was one of the winged warriors of the skies but had later learned was a demon in disguise. Either way, she hadn't liked the guy, her youngest sister's father. He considered himself a god and everyone else beneath him.
"Did you bring me here to kill me?" she asked. Not that he'd have any luck. He would find that she was not an easy target. Many immortals had tried to finish her off over the years, but none had succeeded. Obviously.
He sighed, warm breath trekking over her cheeks. She had accidentally-on-purpose closed some of the distance between them; he smelled of the icecaps she so loved. Fresh and crisp with just a hint of earthy spice.
When he realized that only a whisper separated them, his lips, too full for a man but somehow perfect for him, pressed into a mulish line. Though she didn't see him move, he was suddenly a few more inches away from her. Huh. Interesting. Had he increased the distance on purpose?
Curious, she stepped toward him.
He backed away.
He had. Why? Was he scared of her?
Just to be contrary, as she often was, she stepped toward him again. Again, he stepped away. So. The big bad Sent One didn't want to be within striking distance. She almost grinned.
"Well," she prompted. "Did you?"
"No. I did not bring you here to kill you." His voice was rich, sultry, a sin all its own. And yet, there was a layer of absolute truth to it, and she suspected she would have believed anything he said. As if whatever he said was simply fated, meant to be. Unchangeable. "I want you to emulate my life. I want you to learn from me."
"Why?" What would he do if she touched him? The tiny gossamer wings on her own back fluttered at the thought. Her T-shirt was designed especially for her kind, the material loose to keep from pinning those wings as she jolted into super-speed. "Wait. Don't answer. Let's make out first." A lie, but he didn't need to know that.
"Bianka," he said, his patience clearly waning. "This is not a game. Do not make me bind you to my bed."
"Ohh, now that I like. Sounds kinky." She darted around him, running her fingertips over his cheek, his neck. "You're as soft as a baby."
He sucked in a breath, stiffened. "Bianka."
"But better equipped."
"Bianka!"
She patted his butt. "Yes?"
"You will cease that immediately!"
"Make me." She laughed, the amused, carefree sound echoing between them.
Scowling, he reached out and latched on to her upper arm. There wasn't time to evade him; shockingly, he was faster than she was. He jerked her in front of him, and dark, narrowed eyes stared down at her.
"There will be no touching. Do you understand?"
"Do you?" Her gaze flicked to his hand, still clutching her arm. "At the moment, you're the one touching me."
Like hers, his gaze fell to where they were connected. He licked his lips, and his grip tightened just the way she liked. Then he released her as if she were on fire and once again increased the distance between them.
"Do you understand?" His tone was hard and flat.
What was the problem? He should be begging to touch her. She was a desirable Harpy, thank you very much. Her body was a work of art and her face total perfection. But for his benefit, she said, "Yeah, I understand. That doesn't mean I'll obey." Her skin tingled, craving the return of his. Bad girl. Bad, bad girl. He's a stupid warrior, more brawn than brains, and therefore not an appropriate plaything. Wait. Surely that thought hadn't come from her. She loved men with more brawn than brains, right?
A moment passed as he absorbed her words. "Are you not frightened of me?" His wings folded into his back, arcing over his shoulders.
"No," she said, raising a brow and doing her best to appear unaffected. "Should I be?"
"Yes."
Well, then, he'd have to somehow grow the fiery claws of her father's people. That was the only thing that scared her. Having been scratched as a child, having felt the acid-burn of fire spread through her entire body, having spent days writhing in agonizing, seemingly endless pain, she would do anything to avoid such an experience again.
"Well, I'm still not. And now you're starting to bore me." She anchored her hands on her hips, glaring up at him. "I asked you a question but you never answered it. Why do you want me to be like you? So much so, that you brought me into the skies?"
A muscle ticked below one of his eyes. "Because I am good and you are evil."
Another laugh escaped her. He frowned, and her laughter increased until tears were running from her eyes. When she quieted, she said, "Good job. You staved off the boredom."
His frown deepened. "I was not teasing you. I mean to keep you here forever and train you to be respectable."
"Golly gee-is that right? Is that what you'd say? How adorable are you? ‘I mean to keep you here forever and train you,'" she said in her best impersonation of him. There was no reason to fight about her eventual escape. She'd prove him wrong just as soon as she decided to leave. Right now, she was too intrigued. With her surroundings, she assured herself, and not the Sent One. The skies were not a place she'd ever thought to visit.
His chin lifted a notch, but his eyes remained expressionless. "I am serious."
"I'm sure you are. But you'll find that you can't keep me anywhere I don't want to be. And me? Respectable? Funny!"
"We shall see."
His confidence might have unnerved her had she been less confident in her own abilities. As a Harpy, she could lift a semi as if it were no more significant than a pebble, could move faster than the human eye could see and had no problem slaying an unwelcome host.
"Be honest," she said. "You saw me and wanted a piece, right?"
For the briefest of moments, horror blanketed his face. "No," he croaked out, then cleared his throat and said more smoothly, "No."
Jerk! Why such horror at the thought of being with her? She was the one who should be horrified. He was clearly a do-gooder, more so than she'd realized. I am good and you are evil, he'd said. Ugh.
"So tell me again why you want to change me. Didn't anyone ever tell you that you shouldn't mess with perfection?"
That muscle started ticking below his eye again. "You are a menace."
"Whatever, dude." She liked to steal-so what. She could kill without blinking-again, so what. It wasn't like she worked for the IRS or anything. "Where's my sister, Kaia? She's as much a menace as I am, I'm sure. So why don't you want to change her?"
"She is still in Alaska, wondering if you are buried inside an ice cave. And you are my only project at the moment."
Project? Oh, that burned more than all his other insults put together. But she did like the thought of Kaia searching high and low but finding no sign of her, almost like they were playing a game of hide-and-seek. Bianka would totally, finally win.