Storm of Sin - Patricia D. Eddy Page 0,30

have no defenses against Regina, and if you are caught unawares, you could disappear before I would be able to stop her! I would never forgive myself if I lost you.”

“If you lost me? Sin, you don’t have me to lose. We’re partners. Nothing more.” Wariness infuses her tone, and her denial makes me want to punch something. Or wrap her in my arms.

I push up and start to pace the long, narrow conference room. “If Thorn has escaped Hell, everything he has done since that day is my fault.”

“Why? You sent him to Hell, right? How is what happened afterwards in any way on you?” She rounds the table and, hands on her hips, stops right in front of me. “He’s the bad guy. Well, so’s Regina, but still. You were a victim. It’s time you realize that.”

“I. Helped. Them.” I do not know how else to convey the depths of my guilt. I cannot tell her all the things I did under his influence. All the young women I tortured until they begged me to kill them. All the men I lured into the shadows so Regina could use her charms to compel them into obedience.

“You—“

The air in the room crackles, and I grab Zoe a split second before a blast of percussive energy shoves us both against the wall. Had I been any slower, her head would have hit the large computer screens, and unlike my own corporeal body, hers would have broken in several places.

“Sin?” Zoe’s voice trembles, and she clutches my arms as she blinks hard to focus. “What just happened?”

“Agent Zoe Dawes,” I say as I brush a thick, auburn curl away from her face. “You are about to meet your first archangel.”

Zoe

Pressed against Sin’s sculpted chest, I struggle to process his words. Archangel? My head hurts, like the world’s worst pressure change just sucked all the brain matter from between my ears, and the air in the room feels somehow richer. Like there’s more oxygen than there was a moment ago.

Sin steadies me, staring over my shoulder with such intensity, I’m worried he’s about to lose his shit.

You can do this. Turn around. It’s only one of God’s chosen. No big deal, right?

When I manage to screw up enough courage to move, my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. The man—is he a man?—is beautiful. Long golden hair falls in gentle waves to his shoulders, and his skin glows as if dusted with silver and gold. Wings fold against his back, pure white, and his robes move like there’s a gentle breeze swirling around only him.

“Sinclair.”

Shit. Even his voice is perfect. Smooth and low and with a hint of an accent I can’t place.

“Gabriel. This is Zoe.”

The angel turns his golden-eyed gaze to me and frowns. Even that doesn’t mar his beauty. “Interesting,” he says.

Interesting? An angel just materialized out of thin air, and all he has to say is “interesting”?

Sin still has an arm around my waist, and the reassuring weight and his warmth might be the only things keeping me standing.

“Well?” Sin demands. “Is Thorn still Lucifer’s guest?”

“No.” The archangel shakes his head softly and stares up at the ceiling. “And the Almighty is fucking pissed about it.”

Hearing the Angel Gabriel swear is almost too much, and I lean a little more against Sin. “I need to sit down.”

Almost immediately, my partner guides me over to a chair. “I can meet with him alone,” he whispers close to my ear. “Rest.”

“No. I want to hear this. All of it.” He’s bracing his hand on the table, close enough I can smell my soap on his skin. I can’t believe I’m about to do this, but I look to Gabriel. “I realize you could probably smite me down or something for even asking, but could you give us a minute?”

I expect anger or even shock, but all I see on Gabriel’s face is boredom. “I am an angel, Zoe Dawes. Even if I left the room, I could eavesdrop as simply as you breathe.“

Sin turns my chair so I’m facing him. “What is it?”

“You haven’t told me the whole story.” Shame wells in his blue eyes, now streaked with hints of crimson, and I drape my fingers over his. “I’m human, Sin. I’ll never be able to imagine what you went through. But without the details, I can’t help catch these bastards. Whatever you’re afraid of telling me? Is it that much worse than what these kidnapped men and women