Az almost smiled.

He felt her breath blow over his skin. “It’s so close to your spine . . .” She’d said that before, but this time, heavy worry weighted the words. Then she lifted her hands. “I don’t think I can do this.”

He turned, caught her hand. “You have to.” His jaw locked, and Az said, “It burns, Jade. Like it’s eating away at me from the inside.”

She licked her lips. “It . . . it is. Brandt got those bullets from some witch. I don’t even know that the hell they are made of, but Brandt’s pack uses them to take out the paranormals who get in their way.” Her lips turned down as sadness flickered over her features. “For up close kills, they always use their claws, but from a distance . . . nothing stops their guns.”

“Magic bullets.” Az shook his head. So the shifters had stepped up their game. “Guess I’m just lucky the bastard was a poor shot.” It took a whole lot to kill a Fallen, but maybe—

“You weren’t lucky.” Her hands were on him again, and her slightly cool touch soothed his overheated flesh. “They didn’t want you dead. They wanted you incapacitated. They were—”

She stopped.

But Az knew what Jade had been planning to say next. “They wanted to make me easier prey?”

“The better to torture later,” she said quietly. He felt the press of metal on his back. She must have found some kind of tool in the kitchen. “Don’t move.” Her nervous whisper. “Please don’t move.”

He felt pressure on his back. More pain as the burning deepened.

“Almost got it,” Jade told him. She moved her body, straddling his legs and ass. “Almost—there!”

The pain receded instantly. The muscles and tissues began to heal with a faint tightness that stretched across his back.

“Un . . . freaking . . . believable.” Jade’s hushed voice. “Your back—I can actually see the wound closing.”

And he could feel the warmth of her body all along his.

But then she was scrambling away from him. Climbing off his back and onto the bed beside him. In her hand, she held the bullet.

Az turned and pushed up beside her. He took the bullet, staring down at it. Gold in color, the bullet had a surprisingly heavy weight, and it burned. The heat singed his fingertips. The bullet he’d taken from his shoulder had burned, too, and that was why he’d ditched it at the first opportunity.

Now that he knew just how powerful this bullet was, he’d be holding onto it.

Curious, Az glanced at her. “Did it hurt you to touch it?”

“No.” Jade shook her head. She slipped away and headed toward the bathroom to wash the blood from her hands.

The bullets didn’t burn humans. Interesting. He put the bullet on the nearby nightstand. He’d have to find out just what special hell was in that bullet.

Huh. Maybe it was hell. Literally. It seemed to him that the supernaturals had gotten particularly vicious and inventive with their attacks lately. Even going so far as to use Angel’s Dust against each other.

Angel’s Dust. The Other weren’t talking about a drug when they named this weapon. They were referring to the actual dust that was left behind when an angel’s wings burned away. A few enterprising paranormals had managed to catch or find some of the stuff, and they’d been using it—with deadly consequences.

The magic from an angel’s wings could be very, very potent.

So now, angels appeared to be the main course on the menu—because everyone wanted that special kick of power. Like there needed to be another reason for the Other to go after his kind.

Az looked up and found Jade’s intense stare on him. “Tell me what you are, Az. I need to know.” She stood near the edge of the bed.

She’d asked before. He hadn’t answered. This time, he wouldn’t lie to her. In fact, he couldn’t. Angels weren’t allowed to lie.

But he wasn’t exactly an angel, not anymore.

“Those marks on your back, the ones that cut across your shoulders . . .” She leaned forward and traced a fingertip over the left scar—a scar that marked where his wing had once been.

When she touched his scar, a shock of pleasure stole through his body. The pleasure was so intense that he shuddered.

“Az?”

Her fingers were lightly caressing the scar.

The wings were always the most sensitive part of an angel’s body, and even the scars still maintained that enhanced sensitivity. So when she touched him, he just thought—want more.