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She made a noise, and he looked up, every muscle in his body tightening as their eyes connected. Rowan bent toward him, and he held his breath, suddenly thinking that maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. The thought of her hands on him again filled his heated bones with a sizzle of red-hot energy that had parts of him excited—parts that might be considered inappropriate given the circumstance.
He couldn’t help it. He was on fire, filled with pain and desire—a deadly combination that made him growl in agitation.
“This will probably hurt,” she said softly.
“I’m sure it will,” he bit out.
“I’ll try to be gentle.”
“Please do.”
Her fingers touched his flesh, and he grunted as red-hot energy surged into the wounds. The pain was immediate, and he cursed in ancient speak, spewing words that no one would know but his brothers.
Gone were the days when pain was nothing more than a notion. As Seraphim, he’d been endowed with unparalleled powers and magick that was unlike anything found in the human realm. Pain was not something he’d ever given much thought to until he’d fallen and been stripped of most everything he’d claimed from his heritage.
Still, it was a sad blow to his ego that a weapon made by a witch could fell him in such a manner.
Gradually the pain subsided as the wound closed and the heat from her fingers sizzled to nothing. Azaiel wasn’t sure if it was because his shoulder was numb or because she’d charmed the pain away.
Either way he had no time to dwell on such things.
“We’ve lingered too long,” he said roughly. Rowan’s mouth was inches from his, the small pink tongue he’d grown to appreciate licking her generous bottom lip as her forehead crinkled in concentration.
“Let me help you up.” Rowan hooked her arms through his, but he shrugged out of her grasp, swearing once more as he did so. Son of a bitch. So much for the numbed shoulders.
Once upright, he cracked his neck and for the first time saw a deep laceration down Rowan’s right cheek. Unbidden, his hand rose.
“Seems as if you’ve a war wound as well.”
She took a step back, cleared her throat, and his hand fell back to his side.
“Its tongue got me,” she said huskily. “I’ll make a salve when we get back to Salem.” She offered a nervous smile. “It will be gone by tomorrow.”
Hannah and Frank appeared, arms laden with weapons of all sorts and large bags that were equally full strung from their shoulders. “We’re ready.”
Azaiel turned. “Let’s head out.”
“Holy Mother of God.” Hannah’s whispered words stopped him cold.
Azaiel cocked his head to the side, anger coursing through him as he caught sight of the horrified look on her face. “You’ve never seen a tattoo before?”
“That’s a tattoo? I’ve never seen one like that before. Dude, I hope you got your money back,” Hannah answered.
Rowan stepped beside him, her pale features pinched. “Azaiel, who did that to you?”
Images of his body suspended in the air flashed before his eyes. Memories of the cold. The wet. The miserable. The desolate.
The pain had been incredible, the sorcerer Cormac O’Hara who’d wielded his tools of torture, insane, and yet Azaiel was the Fallen—it had all been deserved.
He stared down into her heart-shaped face. “No one you would know.”
The door opened and he escaped into the cool air that lingered outside. The freshness of it slid over his heated flesh and for a moment he basked in the comfort it offered.
Azaiel was bare from the waist up and though it was as cold as a winter morning, he felt nothing but fire. Whether it was fueled by the poison in his system or the rage that simmered beneath the surface was anyone’s guess.
Azaiel had no time for a walk down memory lane. There would be all the time in the world for that later. At the moment, they still had a demon problem, and he knew that by nightfall, it would be much worse.
The unnatural darkness still lingered, bathing the parking lot and Brick House in a thick blanket of mist. Frank and Hannah walked past him and stowed their gear in a shiny black pickup truck parked near the building. He nodded to Rowan. “Ride with them. I don’t want you exposed.”
