Sins of the Lost

worry about in this bloody war without having one of our own screw things up for us. One misstep, one hint that you’ve lost control . . .” Raphael made a snick sound as he drew a finger across his throat. “Am I clear?”

Seeming satisfied his message had been delivered, he started down the hill. Aramael held back a fuck you and waited until the other had taken several steps. Then he cleared his throat. Raphael slowed, stopped, and looked over his shoulder.

“The decision was Mika’el’s,” Aramael reminded him. He was all for keeping the peace, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t respond to whatever Raphael wanted to start. “The One sanctioned it. Like it or not, I’m one of you now, and—”

The other Archangel’s blade pressed against his throat before he could finish. Aramael froze, staring into the vicious golden eyes inches from his own.

“You are not one of us,” Raphael hissed. “We have passed through Hellfire itself, and we bear the scars on our souls to prove it. You might wear the armor and carry the sword of our kind, but you will never be one of us. Ever. Do you understand?”

Even if he’d wanted to nod assent, the finely honed metal nestled below Aramael’s jaw discouraged him from doing so. Wordlessly, he held Raphael’s glare until the Archangel sheathed his sword. Stalking down the hillside once more, Raphael flicked a last glower over his shoulder.

“Remember what I said, Power. I’m watching.”

Chapter 16

“All quiet?” Mika’el asked as he topped the rubble knoll where Aramael stood.

Aramael shrugged. He adjusted the armor chafing under his arms. “One flare-up that settled down,” he said. “And one visit from Raphael. The latter was by far more exciting.”

Mika’el settled a foot on a boulder and leaned forward, bracing his forearms across his armor-clad thigh. His lips quirked. “He’s a little gruff, but to coin a human phrase, his bark is worse than his bite.”

Aramael shot the Archangel a sidelong look, remembering the edge of steel against his throat. “I somehow doubt that.” He returned his attention to the distant strip of Hellfire. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“When you chose me to take Samael’s place among you, did you consult the others?”

“The decision was mine to make.” Mika’el’s words held no arrogance, only a statement of fact. “There was no need for consultation.”

“Did you know they would”—Aramael sought the right word—“object quite so strongly?”

“I figured you were a big enough boy to handle it. You aren’t the only one in Heaven to lose a brother to Lucifer’s allure, Aramael. Raphael would have had a difficult time with anyone replacing Samael. You just raised more issues for him than another might have. As for the others, they’re understandably protective of one of their own. Give them time. They’ll come around.”

Raphael—and Samael? Aramael turned his attention back to the band of Hellfire. He hadn’t expected that. A grudging sympathy edged out the memory of Raphael’s sword. His presence would have hauled a lot of unwanted memories back to the surface for the other Archangel—along with an accompanying sense of betrayal with which he himself was all too familiar.

“I don’t suppose you could have thought to mention this to me at the time,” he said.

“My job is to protect Heaven and the One, not your feelings.”

“Seems to me you’d do a better job of it if you weren’t pitting your own warriors against one another.”

Mika’el went silent for a moment. “No Archangel would turn against another,” he said finally, “but your point is taken. I’ll speak to Raphael.”

More silence. Aramael’s gaze narrowed on the other Archangel, who still stared into the distance. “You didn’t come here just to check up on me.”

“No.” With a heavy sigh, Mika’el straightened up. “No, I’m not here to check up on you. We’ve run into a complication. Samael is watching the woman.”

“The—” Aramael’s heart jolted. “You mean Alex?”

A scowl crossed the other’s features. “The Naphil, yes. We’ve no idea why he’s interested in her, but I think we can safely assume it’s not a good thing. We need someone to watch her.”

It took several seconds for Mika’el’s intent to sink in. Several more to force a swallow in a throat that had gone as dry as their surroundings. Of all the Archangel might have divulged, this would have been what Aramael least expected. Watching Alex on his own, in secret, had been one thing. He’d been careful not to let himself get too close. But what Mika’el suggested—watching her with Heaven’s permission? Its blessing? That was something entirely different.

He stared toward the Hellfire. He was an Archangel now. He couldn’t afford to give in to the baser instincts. Not anymore. Not again.

“You know I still have feelings for her,” he said at last, feeling duty-bound to tell the other warrior.

“I suspected as much, yes.”

Aramael’s fingers curled around his sword hilt. “Then you’ve chosen me because . . . ?”

“Two reasons. First, because without a Guardian to help you, you’ll need to track her on a physical level. Your experience as a Power means you’ll fit into the human realm better than the others. And second, because you do still have feelings for her. We need more than just a watcher, Aramael. If it becomes necessary, we need her protected. The others would stand in Samael’s way, but . . .” Mika’el’s voice trailed off.

“But they wouldn’t die for her as I would,” Aramael finished. He scuffed the toe of one boot against the hardened soil, remembering Raphael’s accusations. “And you trust me to do this.”

“I have no choice.”

Well. That had been nothing if not blunt.

“May I at least know why I’m being asked to play sacrificial lamb?”

Again.

“We need her help. With Seth.”

Slack-jawed, Aramael stared at him. “You have got to be kidding me. You want me to protect the woman to whom I am soulmated so she can help you with the one she chose over me? Even if I wanted to—”

“The One is leaving us.”

Aramael stared at him. He snapped his mouth closed. “I don’t understand. Leaving us how?”

“Permanently.”

“She can’t leave. She’s the Creator, the All. Heaven cannot survive without her.”

“And the world can no longer survive with Lucifer. It’s the only way she can stop him.” The tightness in Mika’el’s voice told how much the words cost. “She needs to bind with him, to become what she was before she created him from herself. Seth stands in the way. Giving up his power created an imbalance that’s ripping the mortal world apart. Controlling it is making her weak. We need him to take back what he gave up.”

Take back . . . Despite the gravity of the situation, Aramael’s heart leapt beneath his ribs. “You mean become immortal again?”

Mika’el glowered at him. “Don’t even think of going there. Regardless of what happens with Seth, the Naphil remains out of your reach, is that clear? This isn’t about you—or her, for that matter. It’s about honoring the One’s wishes.”

“I should think it would be about saving the One rather than honoring her wish to die.”

The other Archangel’s eyes darkened with an anguish that lanced through to Aramael’s own core, making him wish he could retract his words. His cruelty. None in all of Heaven had been more loyal to the One; none would do more for her than the Archangel Mika’el. To suggest otherwise verged on blasphemy.

“I spoke out of turn—” he began.

Mika’el cut him off. “I have been over this a hundred thousand times,” he said quietly, “and every time, I