Angel Betrayed (The Fallen #2)(84)

A long drop of blood slid down from the corner of Rogziel’s mouth. “Neither . . .” He choked out, “is she.”

Sam blinked.

Rogziel’s body sagged. “Didn’t . . . know? Some angels . . . no wings . . . ”

Gritting his teeth, Sam twisted the claw. Rogziel stopped talking. A desperate gurgle rose in his throat. Sam yanked back the claw.

Rogziel fell to the ground. His blood soaked his wings. His eyes were open, staring straight up, but fear had frozen his face.

The silence hit him then. Thick. Total. He spun around and felt like he’d just had his heart carved out.

The hound wasn’t at Azrael’s throat anymore. Az lay on the ground, not moving, his body torn and battered.

The beast crouched over Seline, and its teeth were at her throat. And behind them, with his hand outstretched, Jeremian waited.

“No!” Sam lunged forward but slammed into the invisible wall that had been created by the holding spell. “Fuck, no!” He blasted the wall. He let fire rip from his hands. He shoved every inch of his power— “Seline!”

Her head was turned toward him. Her eyes met his. The hound hadn’t ripped into her throat, not yet. Maybe the beast wouldn’t. Maybe it would somehow recognize her, just as the other had.

Fucking bastard Rogziel. Sam kicked the angel’s limp body. He’d said “Seline,” at the end—because he was ordering his hound to kill her. Changing prey. Damn him. “Get away from her!” He yelled at the hellhound. “Come for me, hound! Come for me!”

But the beast wasn’t moving. Jeremian wasn’t touching Seline. He couldn’t. His touch wouldn’t stop this torment for her, Sam knew that. The Death Angel’s touch wouldn’t work on her because of the angel blood that flowed through her body. Jeremian’s job was just to wait . . . to watch the hound kill her.

Just as Sam was watching. “No!” Sam screamed. “Come for f*cking me!”

Jeremian looked at him. “I’m sorry,” he said. Seline wouldn’t be able to hear him, not yet. The closer she came to death, the more aware of the angel she’d become.

Seline—dying?

No, no, not f*cking possible. He’d just found her. He’d promised her freedom.

A tear slid down Seline’s cheek. Those teeth were sinking into her throat, and she was pushing against the beast and still looking at Sam . . .

“Love . . . you . . . Her lips whispered the words as she stared at him.

Sam shook his head. No, no, she couldn’t love him. He was death. He killed. He destroyed.

Pain twisted her face.

He could only watch. “Seline!” The skin of his hands split open as he battered the walls that held him.

Jeremian’s fingers were inches away from her. “You don’t want her to keep suffering . . .” the angel said. “It’s time for her to be at peace.”

At peace? Slaughtered by the hound? “I’ll kill you!” Sam roared—the vow was for the angel who just watched and for the beast who was hurting Seline.

Jeremian shook his head. “Doubtful. Though you may try.”

A red haze filled Sam’s vision. He shoved his hands flat against the barrier, pushing with every ounce of his strength. Pushing, pushing, spending his energy, desperate— Seline’s eyes widened. The beast’s teeth tore deeper into her throat. Sam saw her lips try to move. Another tear leaked from her eye, and her mouth formed his name, “Sam.”

Then a giant ball of fire exploded, and Seline, Seline— Everything burned.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN



“Sam, you’d better f*cking be alive in there!”

Sam heard the voice. Hollow. Distant. He lifted his eyelids, aware that every part of his body hurt.

“I’m gonna get you out of there, hombre, just hold on.”

There was nothing to hold on to.

“Damn. What did you do to yourself?”

Sam managed to stare stared down at his chest. The claw was still embedded in his flesh. “Wanted . . . to get to her . . .” If he’d been close to dying, if he’d shed enough blood, then he’d thought that maybe the hound would come for him.

Come for me instead. He’d screamed those words as the fire erupted, and he drove the claw into his own chest. But those weren’t the rules. Sam had tried to break them, but—not the rules.

The hellhound had taken its real prey.

Mateo chanted and threw ash in the air and Sam fell out of his prison.

He didn’t look back at Rogziel’s body. No f*cking point. He rushed across the room, sliding in the blood that continued to pour from his body and soak the floor.

It should have been me.

“Seline!” The flames burned low now, flickering red and gold near the edges of the room.

Az lay in the corner, his skin scorched, but he was still breathing.

Seline was just . . . gone.

Nothing left. No blood—just nothing.

“Where’s the succubus?” Mateo asked. Then his eyes narrowed. “That Fallen looks like shit.”

Where are you, Seline?

If she’d died, where had she gone? Not to the fire, not her. She couldn’t be in the fire. He wouldn’t let her be. He shot to his feet and grabbed Mateo. “Our deal.” Talking was hard. Too much rage and fear and pain poured through his veins, hotter than the fire.