Had Rogziel really gone that far past reason?

She nearly flew back down the stairs. Seline was desperate to get some air that didn’t taste like death. She shoved open the building’s front door. The light hit her, too bright, but the air was clean. She sucked in deep, gulping breaths and stumbled away.

Oh, crap, had Rogziel done that? She’d tried to put on a front with Sam, but she’d seen what Rogziel had done on his last hunt. His attack hadn’t been quick and easy, and she wasn’t even certain that his prey had been marked for punishment.

That’s when I knew I had to get away from him.

She’d wanted her freedom for years, but it hadn’t been until that moment that she’d truly realized . . . if I don’t get away, I’m dead. Her fingers yanked through her hair as she sucked in another desperate gulp of fresh air.

Had he done this . . . and, oh, God, did I help him?

Because she’d been the one to first find Omayo. She’d been the one to keep tabs on him and give those ridiculous punctual reports to Rogziel.

I might as well have just tied him up with a big, red bow for Rogziel.

If . . . if Rogziel had been the one to kill him.

Another deep breath. Maybe one more gulp and her hands would stop shaking.

Seline didn’t get that breath. A hand slapped over her mouth, blocking the air and choking back the scream that built in her throat.

CHAPTER SEVEN

In the next instant, Seline was shoved back against the side of the building. The bricks bruised her flesh as she stared up at the man who’d attacked her.

Not like she’d ever forget those icy blue eyes.

Azrael stared back at her, and, oh, damn, oh, no—he was covered in blood.

Now she was covered in blood. His body smashed into hers, and she could feel the wet stain of blood on her chest. And, please, don’t let that be blood on his hand, not on the hand covering her mouth. Don’t let it be . . .

“Angels . . . fall . . .” he whispered. His voice came out sounding a bit distorted and hollow. She tried to wrench her head back and get away from that hand, but there was nowhere for her to go. “They burn,” he muttered. “They . . . fall.”

The guy wasn’t saying anything she didn’t already know.

His blue eyes slowly faded to black, and Azrael glanced down at the hand that covered her mouth. “They . . . bleed.”

She rammed her knee into his crotch. As hard as she could.

He didn’t release her, but his face hardened even more. “I . . . know you.” Now that sounded like an accusation.

Her stomach knotted. She couldn’t throw her power at him because she was bone dry. Where the hell was Sam?

Hello, come and get your big, bad psycho brother—he’s right here! She punched Azrael. The punch bruised her knuckles but didn’t do anything to him. Az frowned, and he caught her fingers in a grip that hurt with his left hand.

Hurt but didn’t kill. If he could kill with a touch, why was she still breathing? What was he waiting for?

And why had Omayo been savaged? If Az had gone after him, there would have been no need for torture, not when a light touch would do the job.

“Know you,” he said again, but the words were stronger now. “Erina.”

Seline stopped struggling as her blood turned to ice. Erina had been her mother’s name, well, at least that was what Rogziel had told her.

“You’ll die,” Az said, his voice rough and a little sad. “The Fallen . . . they’ll all die.”

But she wasn’t Fallen. She tried to shake her head as she muttered desperately behind his hand. Sam! Get your ass down here!

Az’s gaze rose to the building behind her. No, to the balcony above her. “One down,” he whispered, “but hell wants more.” His stare was so dark now. Too dark. “See,” he whispered, and leaned forward so that his forehead touched hers.

Pain ripped through her, an agony that tore and twisted and burned because flames were suddenly around her. White, red, and dark orange flames that crackled as they burned the skin from her body. The flames were everywhere, and the fire was so hot it blistered her lungs.

Hell. Somehow, this was—

“Seline !”

She screamed and her eyes flew open. She was on the cement, and Sam was crouched over her. His hands were on her arms, and he was shaking her.

“A-Az . . .” Her throat hurt, and she could actually taste ash on her tongue.

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“H-here . . .” Her eyes wanted to fall shut again, so she let them. Screw it. Sam was there. He could more than handle Az. Don’t want hell.