Grace and Glory (The Harbinger #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,39
and nose.
I found the stupid pool.
Sinking to the floor of the pool like a bag of rocks, a red-hot fury whipped through me, igniting my grace. The corners of my vision turned white as I planted my feet on the bottom of the pool and kicked off. I swam upward, propelled by pure, unfettered rage. I broke the surface, dragging in mouthfuls of air as I shouted, “Asshole!”
The answering chuckle set me off further. I might have had an anger-induced blackout, because I didn’t even know how I made it to the deck of the pool. Water coursed off me as I splashed forward, the shirt clinging to some very unmentionable places. Heat rippled down my arm, followed by swirling white fire. Grace exploded from my hand, spitting flames as my fingers curled around the heated handle forming against my palm. The sword was heavy but inherently familiar.
An imp dropped out of the sky, landing in front of me. It opened its mouth.
“Shut up,” I snarled as I sliced the Sword of Michael through the demon, my attention solely focused on the golden-white wings ahead.
Someone was about to lose some pretty feathers.
An imp erupted in flames as Zayne whirled toward me. His mouth opened as if he were about to say something. He snapped his jaw closed, his chin lowering along with his stare.
“That was not cool,” I bit out.
“You stank of demon blood,” he replied in that flat voice of his. His head tilted. “You’re very wet, little nephilim.”
Noting that his gaze was hung up on two very private areas that were clearly visible through the soaked shirt, I realized that I would have no problem stabbing him through the heart at the moment.
Not at all.
“I’m also very pissed.” I joined my hands together on the hilt as I swung the sword forward. Grace spit and crackled, charging the air.
“I can tell.” Zayne snapped forward, catching my wrists before the sword could reach him. “And I’m kind of turned on.”
A scream of rage left me as I leaned back, bracing my weight on one foot. I kicked out, catching him in the stomach.
Zayne grunted, but didn’t let go. “Ouch.” He twisted his arm, spinning me around. He pulled me back against him and the chill of his skin seeped through the thin, wet shirt. “Didn’t we just find ourselves in this very same predicament only a few hours ago?”
White fire crackled and throbbed as I pulled against his hold. “When you said you would kill me the next time you saw me?” I spat back. “Instead you saved me.”
“But I’m still seeing you.” His chin dipped, grazing my cheek. “Aren’t I?”
“Yeah, and the night is still young.” I threw my head back, but he avoided the blow. “Why are you even here?”
“I was watching your place.”
I stiffened. Well, now I knew he remembered where we lived. “That’s creepy.”
“Is it?”
“Yes, and it’s also wrong. It’s our place.”
His grip on my wrists tightened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t. Keep telling yourself that you’re going to kill me or that you didn’t save me because you needed to do that. Whatever makes you feel good.”
His other arm circled my waist. “You’re making me feel good.”
There was a rather shameful flash of heat in response to his words, to how his voice had finally changed, becoming rougher, deeper. I didn’t know if I was more annoyed with myself or him at that moment.
“You’re going to wear yourself out.” His lips ghosted across the curve of my jaw, sending a fairly inappropriate shiver dancing over my skin. “And then what, little nephilim? No grace. No daggers. It’ll just be me and you.”
“It’s always been just you and me, Zayne.”
Whether it was my words or the use of his name that startled him, his hold loosened enough for me to slip my left wrist free. I twisted away from him, and for a second, the Sword of Michael throbbed intensely between us.
He smiled then, and my heart tripped over itself, because it was one of his smiles. Warm. Charming. Kind. Familiar.
“Maybe I’ll keep you alive, then,” he said. “Keep you in a cage, my pretty little nephilim. You can be my pet.”
His pet? I blinked. He did not just suggest what I thought he did. “Maybe I’ll cut off your—”
He yanked forward, and I tried to dig in, but my feet slipped over the wet deck. Tingles exploded along my shoulders.
He spun me out to the side. His wings snapped back