Grace and Glory (The Harbinger #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,1

an angel, but Zayne hadn’t been that, either.

But he totally had angel wings now—feathered angel wings that glowed with grace.

“Trin...?” he said, and I sucked in a sharp breath. Oh God, it was his voice, and my entire body seemed to shake. I would’ve given up just about anything to hear his voice again, and now I was.

I took a shaky step forward.

“I can...sense you.” Confusion filled his voice as he stared at me.

Did he mean the Protector bond? I searched for the buzz of awareness, the hint of emotions that weren’t mine. I found nothing. There was no cord. No bond.

He wasn’t my Protector any longer.

“Trinity,” he repeated softly, and I heard it then. The tone of his voice. It was off. More than just confusion. “The name...it means something.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Because it’s my name.”

He tilted his head into the shadows, but I could still feel his stare. Did he...did he not remember me? Concern blossomed. I had no idea how he came back or why he resembled an angel, but if something had happened to him to affect his memory, I would help him. We’d figure it out together. All that mattered was that he was alive. I took another step, lifting my arm—

One moment he was standing several feet away, and then the next he was right in front of me, those incredible wings blocking out the world behind him. Zayne had moved faster than any Warden could—faster than even me.

I flinched in surprise, jerking my head away. In the back of my mind, I knew that Zayne, knowing how my vision worked and how hard it was for me to track movement, wouldn’t have moved liked that. But something was clearly up with his memories and—

Zayne grabbed my hand as he dipped his chin, inhaling deeply. He shuddered, lifting his head. My eyes widened. As close as he was now, I could see the familiar lines and angles of his face, but I saw them...I saw them more clearly, and that didn’t make sense, either. His wings blocked out the moonlight, and the glow of the nearby lampposts wasn’t close enough to explain how I could see him so well. His features were too distinct, and there...there really was this glow under—

“Do you think you can take me on, little nephilim?” he demanded.

Wait. What?

All my senses went on high alert as I stared up at him. “Little—?”

Healing skin and muscles protested, flaring hotly as he pulled me against his chest. His arm clamped down on my waist like an arm of steel. The hold was crushing but the contact of his body against mine was still a shock to the system, scattering thoughts and silencing the warning bells that were starting to go off loudly. He lowered his head once more, and my entire body tensed in anticipation. There was a whole lot of weird going on, but he was going to kiss me, and I would never not want—

He buried his face in my hair, inhaling deeply once more. “Your scent... I know it. It calls to me. Why?”

“Because you, uh, know me?” I suggested.

“Maybe,” Zayne murmured, and for a moment, he just held me, and I started to take that as a good sign. “But you... I recognize the grace. It’s powerful. Like an archangel,” he said, the last word spit out like he was talking about some kind of incurable disease.

What in the holy Hell?

I turned my head, unable to raise my arms from where they were trapped at my sides. “Zayne, it’s me,” I said, trying to make sense of what was happening. “Trinity.”

He went incredibly still. “There is something important—your name, your smell,” he interrupted, shuddering once more as his hold on me softened. “I feel too much. All the greed and gluttony, the loathing and hatred. It’s inside me, filling me up.”

That...that didn’t sound good at all.

“But you smell amazing. Intoxicating. It’s familiar,” he repeated. He shifted his head, and I felt his mouth against my jaw.

I gasped, senses overwhelmed by the burst of warring sensations. My body was all on board with his closeness, but not my brain or my heart. “Let go of me, and we’ll figure out what’s going on.”

Zayne didn’t let go.

He laughed.

And that laugh...it was nothing like the sound I loved and cherished. Shivers crawled across my skin, and not in the fun, good way. His laugh was cold, cruel even, and there wasn’t a single part of him that was cruel.