I won’t. I can’t. Sin is—was—the best part of my entire existence. Of both lives the seraphim gave me. I won’t betray him. And I’ll do anything to stop Thorn from getting his hands on the man I love.
“Tell me what I need to know, and all this pain stops. Perhaps, I will even let you go,” he says, his voice soothing, almost like a balm to my wounds. The constant agony eases, and I sigh. “Yes. You want to feel better, do you not? I can make that happen.”
Like Sin with my migraine.
His power pushes into me, a disgusting, vile presence that causes my legs to flail helplessly and my eyes to roll back in my head. No. I know what you are. What you are doing. It won’t work on me, you piece of shit.
I try to embrace the pain, to use it to focus, but the ephemeral wisps of Thorn's talents wind their way deeper. I can feel them slithering along my nerve endings, turning them off one by one, until half of my body feels like I’ve just spent a week at a spa while the other half is consumed by burning agony.
He’s so close, my breasts push against his broad torso, and his free hand cups my ass. “Give in, Zoe. You are mine now. Why keep fighting? Tell me what you are. Give me Sinclair. You will fetch the highest price at the auction, and you are strong enough to last for years. So much stronger than any of the others. I can give you endless luxuries in exchange for your service. The finest food, a room fit for a queen, even pleasure, if you desire it, but I require your mind in exchange. You know I will have it in the end.”
He’s right. I may be stronger than I was the last time he had me, but I’m weaker too. Because now I know the truth. I love Sin. And love is the weapon he’ll use to destroy me. Unless I end him first. I just don’t remember how I’m supposed to do that.
Damn Seraphiel and his idiotic idea to block all of my memories.
You will remember when it is time.
The angel’s last words to me play on a loop in my head just beyond Thorn's reach. Well, it’s time now, you divine bastard.
Frustration churns in Thorn's dark gaze, and the all-consuming agony returns with a vengeance. Digging his fingers into one of the wounds on my back, he laughs when a hoarse, choking cry escapes my cracked lips.
“Your body cannot take much more, my dear Zoe. Nor can your mind. I can feel it.”
Drawing on the last of my physical strength, I bring my knee up to catch him in the balls. My demon captor stumbles back with a yelp and doubles over. With his shock comes a lessening of his power, the tendrils retreating, slinking out of my mind as quickly as they can.
Think, Zoe. Focus.
If I can convince him that he’s broken me, he’ll make a mistake. Underestimate me. Drop his mental shields. I don’t need long. I’m supposed to do something to him. Use his own power somehow. I’m so close to remembering.
Think!
Visions of Sin flash through my mind.
I don’t want to lose him. Not again.
But I will. I have no choice. This is what I was sent here to do. Sacrifice myself to save so many more. Including Sin.
Thorn straightens, a look of pure, unadulterated rage twisting his already gnarled features. I only have seconds before he’s in my head again. I have to hurry. To create a false world he’ll believe is real.
Breathing hurts. With every heartbeat, I lose more blood this human body cannot spare. My greatest fear. I need to show him something he’ll believe is my greatest fear. Something that’s not Sin.
Vampires. Velma. Her fangs piercing my neck. When I thought I was human, she terrified me. Maybe…if I can just channel that…
“You will pay for that, you pitiful creature,” he hisses as he nods at the human men behind me, ready with their whips and canes.
The blows rain down on me harder than before, and Thorn sends every ounce of his power to invade my thoughts. They pierce my defenses, no longer vines, but sharp, jagged rocks that tear through me, searching, until he locks on to the one thought I offer up on a silver platter.
Yes. Take it. Use it. Give me time to remember how to end you.
Twenty-Nine
Sin
I pace outside the massive, gilded doors of the archangels’ inner sanctum, waiting for Gabriel to emerge. I hate being here. I cannot do a fucking thing trapped in the celestial realm, but without the angels’ help, I will never find Zoe.
When Gabriel pulled me out of Hell to serve the remainder of my sentence on earth, he forbade me from returning to this place, and in order to bring me here now, he bound my celestial powers so the other angels would not see me as a threat.
Because I am. Or would be if I had even an ounce of my angelic strength.
Entering this realm left me defenseless, but my memories, which have been muddled by darkness for centuries, are now as clear as if the events happened yesterday.
Thorn has a schedule. A plan for each of his victims. By my estimation, we have been in the celestial realm for an hour, but time moves differently here. Eighteen hours have passed on earth.
By now, Zoe will have been beaten so brutally, she will wish for death. She will be hungry and cold, dehydrated, and her mind...he will have assaulted her mind time and time again. I hope she is strong enough to resist, but what if she is not? What if she has already broken?
I have to get out of here. Back to the mortal realm where I am at least closer to her. I left the commander a terse message before Gabriel touched my arm and transported me here, so the whole of the Bureau will be looking for Zoe, but Thorn has had centuries to perfect his wards. The mages will not be able to scry for her, the shifters will not be able to track her scent. Only those with the power to see the future have any chance, and they have never been able to find him before. I have little hope they will be able to do so now.
The doors open, and Gabriel strides through, his golden eyes ablaze and his wings ruffled. “Seraphiel is the most infuriating being I have ever met. Even worse than you, Sinclair.”
“What happened in there?” I fall into step at his side, unsure where he is going and why, my patience at an all time low.
“He ‘has a plan.’ One that will see Zoe—Genevieve—whatever you wish to call her—die and take Thorn with her.”
Grabbing the archangel’s robes, I stop him in his tracks. “No. I will not lose her again. I have paid my debt a thousand times over, Gabriel. Two centuries as Lucifer’s plaything, another two working for the Bureau... How many souls have I saved?”
“More than your share,” he says, the resignation in his tone obvious. “There are those in this realm, Sinclair, who will never allow you back. You know this.”
“I do not care if I ever see this realm again. Banish me permanently. Take my wings if you wish. But do not force me to go through eternity without the woman I love. The woman Thorn's torture stole from my memories.”
Gabriel shakes his head and pries my hands from his robes, then stiffens. “Thorn did not take her memory from you, Sinclair. Seraphiel did.”
My entire world halts. Turned upside down with those two words. “What?”
The archangel reaches out and lays his hands on me. One over my heart, the other on my forehead. His palms warm, then start to glow, and he whispers, “Remember.”
With a violent shudder, I am thrown onto the rocks surrounding Hell. My body has wasted away from my time as Beelzebub’s prisoner, and three angels stand over me. Gabriel, Azrael, and Seraphiel.