“Commander Eve messaged overnight,” I say as I twirl an auburn curl around my finger. “Cameras at Loup Noir did not capture any sign of Regina last night.”
Zoe’s sweet relief perfumes the air, and I marvel at how easily I can read her emotions without the slightest use of my talents. “So, what do we do now?”
“We have an hour. Perhaps two, if you’d like another go…”
She snorts, a very indelicate sound for such a tiny human. “I meant with the case.”
“Oh.” My disappointment surprises me. “We should ask Eve for additional agents. Form a task force to watch the most popular clubs. When I first…knew him, Thorn did not have a pattern as he does now. He took women as he saw fit. As opportunities presented themselves. If he had grown tired of toying with his previous acquisitions or knew of a demon interested in a woman with certain characteristics, he would send Regina—or me—out to hunt…”
“Why the change, then? Granted, we don’t know the exact dates all of the women were taken. But it seems pretty obvious it’s about every three days.” Snuggling closer, Zoe trails her fingers along the T-shaped scars covering my chest. I do not remember most of the floggings, but memories of coming back to awareness covered in blood and in so much pain, I could barely move fill my nightmares. I cover Zoe’s hand with mine, and she seems to sense my discomfort and changes the subject. “So, um…how come you didn’t tell me you were an angel?”
I close my eyes, relishing her closeness for at least another few minutes. “It is complicated.”
Zoe straightens the sheet, drawing it over us before sinking back onto the pillow. “I don’t really have…friends, Sin. Acquaintances, sure. But friends? People I trust?” She ticks off a finger at a time. “My grandmother, one of my college professors—though I can’t even remember his name right now—and Temple. I want to trust you. But I don’t know you. Yesterday, you kissed me and then sprouted huge black wings. And just now…? We had sex in the air! Why would you hide that?”
“Because I have to.” I stare at the ceiling. The light fixture is crooked, knocked askew by my wings more than once as we fucked. “If Thorn and Regina had found out…before…my crimes would have been even more legion. More…depraved. They would have used my power to do…” I cannot finish the sentence. The very idea of an angel being forced to corrupt souls is too much. “Regina knows now, and she will tell Thorn. They will never stop hunting me. It would be better if I simply…disappeared.”
A hint of fear creeps into her voice. “You’d leave? Really leave…me?” The final word is so quiet, I think I might have imagined it, but when I meet her gaze, her eyes glisten.
This—us—cannot be. Every moment she spends close to me is a moment she is in terrible danger. Why did I think we could ever be? The knowledge that I must hurt her rips my heart from my chest, but my only hope to keep her safe may be to drive her away. Or disappear.
“You do not need me,” I say, forcing an edge to my tone. “You got me ‘out of your system.’” If I do not end this now, she will be hurt. As will I. And that is a risk I can never take.
“I know what I said. But…you don’t think I actually believed it. Do you? After what we just shared?” After a full minute, she sits up with the sheet clutched to her chest. “Shit. You did, didn’t you? This was just…getting laid for you. I can’t believe I was so stupid. That I let you in. That I trusted you.” Her voice cracks, and she throws her legs over the side of the bed and pushes to her feet, wavering for a minute and giving me the perfect view of her ass until she finds my bathrobe and shrugs into it.
Tears glisten in her eyes, but she blinks hard to force them away. “I won’t be able to think straight until I wash you off of me. By the time I’m done, I expect you to tell me exactly how much I owe you for the clothing. I’ll reimburse you for it within the hour. And we’re never talking about this again.”
My bedroom door slams, and a piece of my heart breaks off and crumbles into dust. For centuries, I forced myself to be cold, detached, and unfeeling. It was the only way I could survive.
The very first time I saw Zoe, my resolve started to falter. And in the garage, when it was either show my true self or lose her forever, I knew.
Zoe Dawes ignited a fire deep inside me, and I do not think the flame will ever die out.
Twenty
Zoe
I can’t believe I fucked my partner. Marching down the hall to his guest bathroom, I strip off the robe and yank the shower handle all the way to scalding. I need to wash his scent off of me, but more than that, I need to punish myself for even thinking there might be something between us.
He’s an incubus. A sex demon. I don’t care if he’s half angel, the other half of him is designed to seduce. To control.
Stupid, Zoe.
But I still need to work with him. The missing shifters—and the men we haven’t been able to identify—are depending on me. On us. I can’t let them down.
Hissing as the water hits my skin, I realize the bruises on my legs aren’t my only injuries. My elbow is scraped raw, my right hip is four shades of purple, and now that the high from sex has worn off, I feel like I was hit by a truck.
The irony of using Sin’s shampoo and soap don’t escape me. I’m going to smell like him—at least a little—all day. I should go home, but it’s already almost 9:00, and if Thorn follows the timeline he’s used for the past eighteen months, another woman will go missing by tomorrow at the latest.
Questions race through my mind like Formula One cars, zooming around so quickly, I can’t focus on any of them for more than a second. Where is he hiding the women? Who is he selling them to? And where?
I can’t take the blistering spray a second longer, and once I’ve wrapped myself in a fluffy black towel, I peek into the hall. Sin’s bedroom door is closed, and I can hear rattling and thudding, like he’s moving furniture or something. Then again, his wings did some serious damage to the room when he was—stop it, Zoe.
My cheeks catch fire as a vision of his naked body flashes through my mind, but I shove it down deep and examine the clothes he had delivered.
Shit. Everything’s in my size. And expensive. Even the black silk bra and panties. The jeans mold to my ass, and the leather boots? They look completely unassuming, but when I take a step, it’s like I’m walking on air. There’s no way I can afford to pay him back. Not right away. He must have spent twice my monthly salary on one outfit.
Unless I want to get myself home in his bathrobe—or my bloodstained clothes from yesterday—I don’t have much choice but to accept the gift. And the bastard knew it.
My bag, which also bears a number of dark red stains, is at least mostly intact, and while my phone only has ten percent of its battery left, I slip out without saying a word to him and call a Lyft.
I’ll be steadier once I get to the Bureau. I have to be. These women’s lives depend on it.
No one looks at me twice when I walk in, even though I feel like there’s this huge sign over my head flashing I had sex with an angel last night.