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“I know who you are, Mr. Ambrose. I also know that this situation makes no sense,” she said, eying him.
I would’ve grinned if I could feel my face. Whatever spell the witches had cast on us was more than just a silencing spell—it had numbed all the muscles in my body. It was more of a paralysis spell than anything, the only difference being that it happened to start with your tongue.
The invisible bindings on me released, and Justus shifted towards me just as the syringe struck, jabbing me on the side of the neck. There was a slight sting, after which my head felt like it was going to fall off my shoulders, lolling forwards automatically. It was only after I was rolled onto my back that I realized I’d collapsed.
The serum felt like sludge as it slowly filled my veins. Its effects made the spell they’d used earlier feel like a pat on the cheek in comparison. Even my eyelids felt weighed down.
I didn’t even realize I’d closed my eyes until I was jostled, unable to see what was going on with me.
My last semi-coherent thought was that I hoped Johnny and Rebecca had gotten out before the raid, and that Aria would be near me wherever I ended up.
2
THE ISOLATION CENTER
Aria
Iwas sick and tired of waking up in weird places. Especially after getting knocked out.
I’d become so intimately familiar with the sensation of slowly regaining consciousness, I could have sworn I was starting to get better and faster at it.
I regained feeling in my limbs, first. It wasn’t a slow, trickling current like the first few times, no—it was an overload of touch where I could feel the cool, hard ground beneath my arms and legs all at once, the smoothness of the tile, marble, or whatever I was laying on piercing my skin.
Soon after I realized I was awake, the rest of me started up with a jolt, sensations flooded me. I could hear thedrip-drip-dripof water from a pipe somewhere nearby. Heavy thuds of boots were also nearby, followed by the louder sound of rustling material as someone moved.
I could smell the distinct, clean,freshscent of an angel, like the purest and sweetest air anyone could only dream of reproducing. The underlying stink of vampires also lingered in the air, as well as the faint crackle of a witch’s.
I hadn’t opened my eyes yet, because I justknewan obnoxiously bright fluorescent light was going to be right above me. There always was in those movies where people were being held captive.
“I know you’re awake.”
My eyes flew open. My sclera sizzled under the light—it was there, just like I’d thought—but I forced myself to move into a defensive position. My legs barely cooperated with me as I struggled to my feet, blindly backing away from the direction the voice came from.
“Who—” I started, but froze when I took in the being in front of me.
He was sitting in the farthest corner from me with one of his legs bent at the knee, his elbow propped on it. His head rested lazily on that arm’s closed fist as he observed me back.
Damn. I’d been around several incredibly beautiful creatures over the course of the last few weeks, but Heavens above, he was resplendent. Dark blonde hair curled artfully away from his head, framing vibrant green eyes, high cheekbones, and a straight nose above petal-colored lips.
I wasn’t even attracted to him, really—I was jealous. Why the hell could a man be that beautiful?
And then he shifted forward, and I finally focused on the massive white wings tucked neatly behind him.
I took a careful, jittery step back and bumped into the wall, which the angel—holy shit, anactualfucking full-blooded angel—chuckled at.
“That’s not a reaction I get every day,” he said, amused, and flashed me a gentle smile.
I narrowed my eyes at him. Maybe beauty was a weapon for these creatures, but that certainly wouldn’t work on me; it just reminded me that I technically had an angel of my own.
Sariel.
His name alone unleashed a herd of memories that went stampeding through my head, and I stilled.
Johnny’s betrayal. Rebecca’s injury. Tyler Bastille’s delusions, relation to me, and the revelation that he’d murdered both my parents and Sariel’s little brother. Azazel Ambrose being even worse than we thought, the people in uniform who’d stormed Ambrose Mansion, the distressed look on Sariel’s face being the last thing I’d seen before waking up here…
I gasped.
“Careful with your wound,” the angel said. He was close enough that I could feel heat coming off of him, but that did little for me, and really wasn’t the same as it would have been coming from Sariel. “You’re injured. You should sit down.”
