“He’s more than Death!”

Uriel exhaled on what could have been a sigh. “I do not expect your transition to be easy.” A faint smile curved his lips, though no emotion flickered in his eyes. “Though you are a first, angels are usually—”

“Born here, got it.” She waved her hand. “How did I get here?”

“Delia suspected the truth about you from the first. She could feel the power in you, and then when you linked with your hound, we could all see the possibilities.”

Oh, “we” could? The wings were a light weight on her back, one that felt strange. Wings.

“We realized that you would either die in that final battle with Rogziel or you’d evolve and become something more when your demon side ceased to be.”

Wait. Back up. “What do you mean, ceased to be?” She did not like the sound of that.

Uriel just stared down at her with that pretty face of his. “The Death Angel’s touch doesn’t work on angels. Not winged angels and not those who possess the pure blood of angels within their—”

“I have angel blood.” And she had a mental flash of that fire-filled room. A man had bent near her. Pale skin. Dark eyes. The scent of flowers had filled the air all around him. Her heart thumped hard in her chest. “A Death Angel came for me?”

“He came for your demon side.” Uriel’s lips tightened, then he said, “The succubus you were is dead. The angel that was trapped inside you . . . well, she is free now. Jeremian’s job was to watch you in your final moments, and then to ferry you back to the place you truly belong.”

Her wings trembled. “I don’t feel like an angel.” Too much rage. Too much need. Emotions stirred and fought within her.

“Angels do not feel.”

Her wings curved around her, and she had the weird impression they were trying to give her a hug. “This isn’t me.”

“This is what you will be.” Then he turned and walked away, his steps slow and certain. “All you need is time to forget.”

The doors opened instantly for him, and then they closed just as quickly in his wake.

“I don’t want to forget,” Seline whispered. She hurried toward the doors. They didn’t open. Not even when she shoved them with all her strength. They. Wouldn’t. Open.

Seline paced back to the bed. Trapped in paradise. How could that even happen? This place was supposed to be perfect. No fear. No worry. No pain.

But she wanted pain. She wanted every bit—good and bad—that came with her life.

The succubus inside you died. How long had she tried to smother that demon side?

But now, without that part of herself, Seline just felt . . . lost.

Because I can still feel. She wasn’t like the angels here. She felt, and her feelings were close to ripping her apart.

Sam, I need you!

She needed him, and she’d have him.

Breath catching, she climbed onto the bed. Seline closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Maybe the angels were wrong. Maybe her demon side wasn’t gone, not yet.

Please, not yet.

Sam . . . Sam, be there.

She let her mind drift and pushed hard for powers that didn’t want to rise. She’d never been able to contact someone from this kind of distance before—she didn’t even know how damn far away she was. But she’d never been this desperate before, either.

She dug into her soul, grabbed the power she could still feel, weak, but there.

Her heart ripped in two, but she pushed and pushed . . .

Sam, take a walk with me.

In dreams.

After three days, Sam slept. No, he collapsed. He’d searched nearly all of Mexico, but there’d been no sign of Seline.

Mateo hadn’t carried through with his end of the deal. The witch had given him more of that containment powder, but so far that had been pretty f**king useless. There were no angels around to contain.

Don’t want angels. Don’t want heaven. Mateo knew exactly what he wanted.

Lying bastard. How hard was it to get a ticket to hell?

The numbness took him first, weighing down Sam’s body. His chest burned even though the wound near his heart had healed.

Seline.

When Sam closed his eyes, the nightmares came. Because what more did he have but nightmares? He dreamed of fire and a fall that never ended. He dreamed of pain, agony, of wings that burned and of an unforgiving earth that broke all of his bones.

Then . . . her.

The beast was at Seline’s throat. Her eyes were on Sam.

Love . . .

Why? He tried to shove the images away. He’d failed her. He’d watched while she died. Why the hell had she loved him?