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“Will you be okay waiting while I go get the car? I can be back in a couple of hours.”
Hours? Where the heck had he left his car?
“Where’s Joriel?” Nate asked, lifting his head from my lap and attempting to sit up before giving up with a soft moan.
“I highly doubt Joriel is going to be up for carrying your ass out of here.”
Nate ignored that comment entirely. “I need him to take care of Sierra.”
I raised my eyebrows, looking between the two angels.
“Joriel has healing powers,” Samuel said, answering my silent question. “It’s a seventh-order thing.”
I stared at Nate, incredulous. “And you think he needs to take care ofme?” Because the shallow cuts I’d received were obviously a bigger problem than the giant wounds on Nate’s back.
“He can’t heal angels,” Samuel explained. “Angels of the seventh order can only heal humans.”
“Is he back?” Nate asked.
Samuel’s expression tightened. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him.”
“Where did he go?” I asked.
“He went to Hell to ask Lucifer to withdraw his protection of Dantalion.”
I felt my eyes widen as I stared at Samuel. I couldn’t have heard that right. Was that a normal thing for angels to do? Talk to the Devil? Judging by the tension radiating off Samuel, it wasn’t.
“Is there something we can do to help?” I whispered.
Samuel shook his head. “You need to worry about yourselves right now. I’ll go get the car and be back as soon as I can.” He looked me up and down and frowned. “Were you walking through an airport without shoes or a shirt?”
“No.” I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling exposed in front of him despite his own shirtless state. “I don’t know what happened to my shoes or polo. I didn’t have them when I woke up here.”
“Right. I’ll pick you up something on the way.” Without another word, he stood and walked to the large overhead door and produced a club from I have no idea where. It looked like a short metal baseball bat studded with wicked-looking spikes on one end. The whole thing shimmered and danced with flames. There was no mistaking that it was Samuel’s angelic weapon.
He raised the club over his head and swung down on the chain that held the door closed. The club didn’t cut through the chains so much as smash them to dust.
I made a mental note to never get in a physical fight with Samuel.
“Sierra?” Nate murmured. “I’m sorry.”
“Shh.” I stroked his hair. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
He pushed up on shaking arms, grimacing.
“Nate, don’t…”
“Listen to me. I should have told you the truth about the Nephilim, about the bond, about everything. I’m sorry, baby girl.”
“Hey.” I reached up with mystill-bound hands—though considering what Samuel did to the chains on the door, I wasn’t particularly upset he hadn’t tried to break me free—and pressed my palm against Nate’s cheek. “It wouldn’t have made a difference to how I feel about you. I wish you’d told me, but I understand why you didn’t. You didn’t want to hurt me.”
He closed his eyes and leaned into my hand. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have said all those things to you. I didn’t mean them. I don’t want space, and I never hated you, not even a little.”
“Then why did you run from me?” His eyes searched mine as if looking for some hidden truth I wasn’t sharing.
“I didn’t know about the bond killing you if I died. I never would have risked you if I’d known.”
