His back was broad and built with muscle, so much so that it was clearly visible through the fabric of his black hoodie. The pushed-up sleeves revealed strong forearms delineated with muscle and healthy veins. His skin was dark, the highlights from the lamplight a golden bronze, the shadows an earthy brown.
And his eyes… They were closed now, but there was no forgetting that brilliant gold. Too bright to be human, it ought to have been a sobering reminder of what he was rather than another element of his beauty.
The longer she stared at him, the more her heart pounded. She couldn’t stop replaying what he’d done to her on that dance floor.
How her body had responded.
Stop that!She could never think of it again. She had done what was necessary to retrieve her target, and the rest was just…an unfortunate side effect. That was all.
Demons were sensual, seductive creatures, and to lure him in, she’d had to play his game. But she was above such base instincts and the need for sexual gratification. Desires of the flesh did not rule her.
It didn’t matter that the little bundle of nerves between her thighs still tingled with excitement. Nor did it matter that her heart had raced at the look in his eyes when he’d promised hours more of similar wicked delights.
When he awoke and found himself trapped in that sigil, the only promises he would make were those of her demise. But she was ready for that. A demon’s hatred, she could handle.
And she had a few promises of her own to make too.
* * *
Raum foughtthrough the intense throbbing of his head to pull himself back to the world. It was hard to remember what he was doing or why he was unconscious in the first place, but the need to stay alert never left him, and the harder he focused on it, the more his body came back under control.
Finally, he managed to blink his eyes open.
He was on his stomach, face turned to one side. When his vision focused, he saw dark-stained hardwood floors with chalk lines drawn upon them around his body—a sigil. AnEmpyreansigil, judging by the pale-blue glow of the lines, which meant there was no hope of him breaking out of it. Temporal magic could be overcome if the caster couldn’t match the demon’s strength. Empyrean magic, not so much.
Further away, there was a small kitchen with stainless appliances. The light in the room came from pot lights in the ceiling, dimmed to a soft glow. Everything was chic and modern, and there were no signs of life. No dishes, groceries, stacks of mail or car keys. Not even a fruit bowl.
He moved his head and saw a window. It was still dark, which hopefully meant he hadn’t been out for long.
Orienting himself triggered the rest of his awareness, and the alarm that filled him gave him the energy to get up. He slid his palms under his shoulders and shoved, and even though it felt like his body weighed a thousand pounds, he managed to lever himself back onto his knees.
The world spun, and all he wanted was to sink back into unconsciousness.
The first thing he did was pull out his cell phone, even though he already knew it wouldn’t work inside of a sigil like this. The magic blocked any signal from coming or going and often short-circuited electronic devices.
Sure enough, the screen was black.
Pocketing it again, he closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and ran a hand over his skull, allowing the sensation of his close-cropped hair against his palm to ground him a little more.
When he dropped his hand and opened his eyes, the angel was standing in front of him.
“Greetings, demon,” she said.
He’d figured out what she was too late. Like a fucking moron, he’d been too busy gawking at her voluptuous body and shiny hair to notice the signs. He’d seen her stalking him all week—casing her target, evidently—and thought it was some kind of fate pushing them together.
Worst of all, he might as well have been trying to chat up a fence post. Angels weren’t sexual beings. They were celibate, and the ones that didn’t want to be became Grigori.
He hadn’t shared desire with her at the club. They hadn’t shared a goddamn thing. She’d put on an Oscar-worthy performance faking that orgasm, but it was still faked.
I’m an idiot. A class-A fucking idiot.
He might have wondered if this angel was a Grigori if he hadn’t already figured out exactly who she was.
What’s your name?
Sun— Sunny.
He’d thought the name was cute. As cute as her.So goddamned stupid.If he hadn’t been thinking mostly with his dick, he’d have remembered that Eva’s father, Dan, had a friend who was an angel—not a Grigori like him, but a legit heavenly angel—named Sunshine.
