The alarms were still blaring ten minutes later as Emelia ran beside a group of black-clad hunters down a corridor on the second level of the building. The flashing red lights hurt her tired eyes, and her muscles protested, threatening to cramp as she pushed herself to keep moving.
“Might be a breach in the cell block,” a hunter said to his companion as they broke off, turning down a hallway to her left.
She doubted that. Any breach in the cell block would have been dealt with by now by one of the teams that had been dispatched there.
It was him.
She knew it.
She would never forget the way electricity had charged the air when he had appeared in the building the first time they had met. The strange sensation had faded now, but she hadn’t imagined it.
It was the angel.
He had come back.
She just wasn’t sure where he was.
She had checked the place where they had met, a small observation room next to one of the grim white medical cells where the scientists and doctors at Archangel often studied the non-humans the hunters captured and brought in for them. The angel hadn’t been there.
Where would he go?
She ground to a halt as she realised something.
She wanted to find him. She wanted to see him again.
Her pulse pounded for a different reason as that hit her, and she moved to the cream wall and pressed her palm to it for support as she stared at the wooden floor. Awareness rushed through her, the past few weeks rolling up on her and leaving her stunned. She had been drawing further and further away from everyone else, even her friends.
But not from him.
What was it about the angel that had her moving towards him, seeking him?
He was a stranger to her, and a dangerous man. Very dangerous. She had witnessed that for herself.
So why was she experiencing a rush of adrenaline, a quiet thrill at the thought he had returned?
Why was she happy that he was here?
Because he was an angel, so she felt he could help her by using his power to free her from the pain of her memories by healing her battered mind somehow?
Or because she had seen the darkness in him, the savage side that had startled her at the time because he was an angel, and had felt the power he commanded, strength that matched, if not surpassed, what Zephyr possessed?
Her fingers tensed against the cream wall.
Did she want the angel to heal her… or destroy the dragon?
She lifted her other hand and pressed it to her chest. Her heart thundered against her palm as she dug her fingertips in, clawing her black T-shirt into her fist.
She wasn’t sure.
A prickling sensation ran up her arms. She dropped her gaze to her left forearm, frowning as the hairs stood on end. A moment later, the familiar charge began to build, barely noticeable at first, but as she focused on it, she could feel it growing.
Was he planning to leave?
Panic propelled her feet into action, and she sprinted down the corridor only to stop at the next cross junction. She slowly turned back the way she had come. The charge was weaker here, away from the spot she had just occupied. Was she moving away from him?
She ran back the way she had come and focused as best she could on the strange feeling. Her breaths came faster as it built inside her, and she was sure she was moving closer to him now. She followed it up through the building, letting her instincts and that electrical charge guide her.
She ground to a halt in front of the fire exit that would take her to the roof.
The charge was strongest here, a rush of tingles constantly running up and down her spine, tripping over her skin beneath her black combat gear. She took a moment, trying to settle her heart and level out her breathing. Her hands shook as she smoothed them over her damp hair, using the action of drawing the dark ribbons of it into a rough knot at the back of her head to calm herself.
Emelia blew out her breath, gripped the handle, and pushed. The heavy door creaked open, and she stepped out onto the flat roof. The cool night air chilled her, brushing across her damp nape and raising the hairs on her bare arms as surely as the angel had.
Was he here?
She shuffled out onto the roof, her eyes adjusting to the dim light that rose from below her, allowing her to see through it. Objects gradually appeared, gaining form and depth as she moved deeper into the darkness, leaving the safety of the door behind. Nerves threatened to send her running back that way, a whispered taunt in her mind reminding her that she hadn’t left the building in more than a week.
That she was in danger out here in the open.
She instinctively glanced up and then shook her head. The dragon wasn’t here, and he couldn’t shift in her world. There was nothing to fear from that inky sky.
She moved around one of the air-conditioning outlets and paused.
Her breath hitched.
Heart lodged in her throat.
She clenched her fists to stop them from trembling and lingered in the shadows, away from the sphere of slender light that emanated from the pitched glass windows that formed a skylight for fifteen feet down the middle of the roof.
Slender light that washed over the man lazing on the gritty dark ground before her, his hands tucked behind his head, supporting it as he stared at the sky.
Looking nothing like she had expected.
The thick onyx hair and silver eyes had remained the same, the chiselled contours of his face and strong line of his jaw exactly as she had remembered them, but everything else was wrong.
He looked more human than angel.
No huge white wings.
No pristine white tunic suited to one of his breed.
A dark turtleneck and black slacks hugged his powerful physique, emphasising muscles that roused a wariness in her and had her wanting to take a step back from him. She knew he was strong, he didn’t need to drive the point home by showing off honed muscles that screamed he could easily overpower her.
Emelia fought the wave of panic that rose inside her.
If he wanted to hurt her, he probably would have done it by now. He was aware of her. She wasn’t an idiot. He was pretending to be oblivious to her standing in the shadows, looking at him, on the verge of a panic attack. To give her time to calm herself and adjust to his presence?
It certainly seemed like an angelic thing to do so she rolled with it as his reason for not even glancing at her.
She swallowed to wet her dry mouth and throat and risked a step towards him. “What are you doing?”
The black slashes of his eyebrows rose but he still didn’t look at her. “Trying to relax.”
Funny that. She had been trying to relax too, before the alarms had sounded. Now she was trying to relax all over again, repeatedly telling herself that he wasn’t going to hurt her.
She braved another step closer so she could see him more clearly in what little light shone on him. He did seem tense.
Lines bracketed the corners of his full mouth as he moved his right arm, lowering it to his stomach, and she didn’t miss the way he shifted that hand to his left side.
“Any reason you’ve chosen to relax on the roof of Archangel?” She canted her head to her right, peering at his face.
He didn’t answer.
She glanced over her shoulder towards the fire exit as the alarms continued to ring. It was only a matter of time before one or more of the hunters scouring the building below her for the intruder ended up checking the roof. What would he do then?
What would she do?
“The alarms are ringing because of you,” she murmured, her eyes still on the door.
It beckoned her, luring her with a promise of safety. She was safe in there, shut away from the world.
“My apologies.” His deep baritone rolled over her, chasing that desire away, together with her panic. It slowly faded as she shifted her focus to him, coming to face him. The alarms ceased, but he still didn’t look at her as he said, “Is that better?”
He had silenced them the last time they had met too. What other powers did he possess?
She nodded, relieved the world had fallen silent again. Hopefully the hunters would believe the intruder was gone or was never there to begin with, and would go back to their duties. It might buy her time to find out why there was an angel lazing on the roof, his eyes on the night sky.
Those eyes shifted like mercury in the weak moonlight, eerily bright despite the darkness.
“Are you here about Sable again?” She inched closer, narrowing the distance between them down to under ten feet.
He finally looked at her.
It was nothing more than a brief glance, a bare brush of those dazzling silver eyes over her from head to toe before they fixed back on the stars. Nerves instantly rushed through her, thoughts filling her mind that had butterflies whirling in her stomach like a damned hurricane.
Emelia edged another step closer as her memories pushed harder.
And hell, that was just as bizarre as finding him dressed like a regular guy on her rooftop.
Normally when the crush of memories happened, she wanted to get away from everyone.
Not get closer to someone.
She reminded herself that she couldn’t trust anyone now. Whatever trust she’d once had, it lay broken now, fragmented like her strength.
Fractured like her soul.
“I will not hurt you,” he murmured softly without looking at her, his voice a balm to her ragged nerves, soothing the torn edges of them. “I did not come to upset you.”
Had he sensed her mounting panic?
Immortals had acute senses, but she hadn’t expected his to be that sharp. The panic hadn’t even gripped her yet, had only been on the verge of seizing her, but he had felt it, and he had sought to reassure her.
She breathed a little easier, managed another step closer to him, and was rewarded for her courage by the memories that had been surfacing fading away instead. She tried to relax, but it was difficult. No matter how many times she told herself that he was an angel, that he wouldn’t hurt her, the tension in her body remained.
A different memory surfaced as she looked down at him, a flash of him in that observation room, his face a mask of darkness and eyes as hard as diamonds as he had growled that he would kill the dragon for her.
“I like the view of the stars from here.” His deep voice wrapped around her again, pulling her back to the present, and she had the feeling he had known she was slipping away again and had wanted to bring her back to him.
She tipped her head back and charted the faint pinpricks that struggled to pierce the lights of the city. Calm washed over her as she gazed at them, carrying away her fears and leaving her feeling lighter, freer than she had in a long time.
“The city lights drown them out, but… I like to look at the stars too now.” She lost herself in them and everything fell away, all the weight lifting from her with it.
“Why?”
She couldn’t tear her eyes away from them as she let the words slip out rather than holding them back. “They help me remember I’m not in Hell anymore.”
The briefest trace of cold washed over her exposed skin and the stars seemed to dim for a heartbeat before they returned.
“The stars are always more beautiful from your world.” His voice was tight now, held an edge that was sharp as a blade and at odds to his words.
Was he trying to control his mood? The world had darkened as it had before when his temper had snapped, but it had only lasted a split second this time. Because he didn’t want to scare her?
He sounded like she did at times when she was close to snapping, trying to be polite to stop herself from lashing out at those who were trying to smother her.
“The lights drown the stars out.” She squeezed the words past her tight throat and told herself to breathe, because she was safe here.
“I can see them,” he murmured. “I see things a little differently to you.”
She could imagine.
She tried to find her favourite constellations, wishing she could see the stars as clearly as he could. She had seen pictures of the Milky Way viewed in complete darkness, and she would love to see it with her own eyes. She wanted to immerse herself in nature, in everything that Hell lacked. Stars. Trees. The sun. She had basked in it more than once in the doorway behind her, not quite brave enough to laze on the roof as he was and bathe in it.
“Why are you here?” She lowered her eyes to him.
He looked at her at last.
“I am sorry. I could not stay away any longer.” His voice was low as he spoke, an honesty in his silver eyes that drew a frown from her.
She hadn’t seen honesty in anyone’s eyes in a long time. She had seen pity, disgust, guilt, and everything in between, but not honesty.
He was truly sorry, but she wasn’t sure why.
“Couldn’t stay away?” The answer struck her. “You mean from Sable.”
He had come for her friend again, sent here to make another attempt to take her to his realm. He was going to be sorely disappointed.
“She isn’t here. As far as I know, she’s in Hell with Thorne.”
His gaze locked with hers. “From you.”
Emelia stared into those honest eyes, saw the truth in them as they brightened, turning gold at the edges, and panicked.
She backed off a step as the fear he had chased away surged through her, memories fighting to the surface to twist her thoughts. She had to get away. She had to go. It wasn’t safe here. She swallowed her racing heart and tried to calm her mind, but fear sank icy claws into both of them, and she couldn’t breathe.
He sat up, grimacing as he clutched his left side. “I am sorry. Do not fear me. I would never hurt you, Emelia.”
She couldn’t convince herself to believe that.
Zephyr had told her he would never hurt her again, and then he had struck her so hard when she had refused his advances that he had broken one of her ribs. She lowered her hand to her right side, mirroring the angel as he struggled to his feet, pain tightening his features.
“Emelia,” he murmured, his soft voice doing nothing to calm her this time. “I need to know more about you… about that diabolical bastard who hurt you.”
She shook her head. She didn’t want to speak about such things. She just wanted to leave. She needed to leave. So why couldn’t she convince her feet to move?
Why did part of her want to stay?
“I tried to forget you,” he grated, the gold that ringed his irises beginning to invade them now as the air around him darkened. “I tried to forget what I saw… but I cannot… and I cannot focus on my duty anymore. The dragon must pay.”
All her fear and panic flooded out of her just like that, as if he had uttered magical words not a simple vow to avenge her. Calm flowed in, cold and clinical, erasing all feeling in its path, leaving her feeling empty inside.
She stared into his shifting eyes, ones that were still honest and open, hiding none of his feelings. His anger. His fury. It was all there for her to see.
“The dragon lives in Hell,” she uttered.
A place he apparently couldn’t go without experiencing great pain.
“I do not care.” He ground the words out as the air around him continued to darken and his eyes brightened further, pulling her under their spell. “I will slay this dragon for you.”
She wanted that.
She wanted Zephyr dead.
But if the angel ventured into Hell, he would be weakened, in danger of being killed by Zephyr. Sending him to hunt the dragon might be sending him to his death.
Was that a price she could bring herself to pay for a shot at revenge?