“I will.” The angel’s gaze raked her. “You’re a very fortunate woman, Seline.”

Not so much from where she was standing. Both parents dead. Raised by a psycho angel. Destined to live off the energy of others, like a psychic vamp. Not so great there.

“You can control a hellhound.” Was that a trace of admiration in the angel’s voice? Yes, a bare whisper. “That means you can be . . . more.”

Seline wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. “More what?”

Those black wings stretched out. “All your life, you’ve never felt as if you truly belonged, did you?”

“Try being a demon half-breed in a world of humans. You won’t belong, either.” A trickle of sweat slid down her back.

“You don’t have to dwell with them.”

Seline rocked back on her heels. “What are you saying?” Couldn’t the angel just spit it out? “I just want to get back to Sam. I want—”

“He can’t kill Azrael.” Flat, but whispering with the underlying timbre of power.

Seline blinked. “Um, well, then I suggest you use those wings and fly me to them because when I left, it sure looked like it was close to killing time.”

“Brother against brother . . .” The angel’s brows furrowed. “That way leads to destruction. Azrael cannot die by Sam’s hand.”

“If he does . . .” She had to ask. “What happens?”

“Their blood is bound. They were linked from the beginning of time.” The angel’s head cocked and she seemed to be looking far away. Into the past? “One cannot live without the other.”

The fear in Seline’s belly twisted harder. “You’re telling me this now?”

“They were twins. One light, one dark. Now both are becoming dark. There has to be balance.” Those bright eyes bored into Seline. “You have to give them balance.”

The wind began to whip behind Seline. She glanced back, expecting to see a car barreling toward her. No one was there.

“You seek justice,” the angel told her. “You are the instrument.”

No, no, no. Seline’s head snapped back around. “I thought you said you’d help me!”

“I will . . .” The angel rose into the air. “I’m going to help you come home.”

But she didn’t have a home. Never had.

“Seline!”

She jumped at Sam’s shout. She whirled and found him behind her. Him . . . and the jerk who’d dropped her in the middle of nowhere.

But Sam’s eyes weren’t on her. They were above her. On the angel. “Delia! Get away from her!”

His rage blasted through Seline.

Afraid now, she glanced over her shoulder. Delia had a sword in her hands. The long blade gleamed. “Stop him,” Delia told Seline. “Or I will be sent after him. Balance will be maintained, one way or another.”

Then she rose higher into the sky. Her wings stretched, and the angel vanished.

Seline finally took a deep breath.

“You summoned a punishment angel?” It was the dumbass who spoke. Sam had a tight grip on him, and some kind of small blade—looked more like a wicked sharp claw—was at the guy’s throat. “You must have one serious death wish.”

Seline ignored him. She stared at Sam. “I was—” Worried. Afraid.

Sam nodded, and she knew he understood. Then his gaze turned to the Fallen. “Time for you to die, Tomas.” He shifted his hand, placing the weapon right against Tomas’s jugular. “See you in—”

“No!” Tomas’s face flushed. “He’ll kill her!”

“No one will kill Seline,” Sam roared.

Seline hurried closer to them. I want to bring you home. Her fingers pressed against Sam’s back, right over his shoulder blades, and she felt the instant tenseness of his body.

“Not her!” Tomas’s throat was bleeding. “Sierra. My Sierra. The bastard has her. If I don’t bring you back—just you—then she’s dead.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Azrael stared across the clearing at Keenan and his vampire. Blood gushed from Azrael’s wounds while Keenan showed no visible signs of weakness. How unfortunate. “You think you’re going to finish what my brother started?” He couldn’t believe that his brother had actually vanished. Left the battle . . . for a woman.

Sam should know better than to lust for a succubus. They could twist any man, human or Other, inside out. A succubus took and took until nothing was left, then she tossed away the husk of the being—the empty shell was all that remained when she was finished.