Wanted Angel - Sadie Moss Page 0,4
close to his side, and the rest of us gather around in a tight phalanx, unconsciously surrounding her in a protective knot.
I don’t know quite when it happened—when she became the epicenter of our little group—but it’s hard now to imagine a time when she wasn’t. Some of my brothers are still unaware of it, or at least, still pretending to be. But as the embodiment of Lust, it’s impossible for me not to pick up on the desire that clouds the air between each of them and Trinity.
The attraction they all have to her is easy to understand. With her mocha skin, dark curls, and earnest, heart-shaped face, Trinity is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.
But it’s what lingers beneath the desire that’s more surprising—and more dangerous.
Protectiveness.
Possessiveness.
Genuine affection.
I’m well-versed in every variation of lust and carnal desire that exists, but the feelings growing between my brothers and Trinity go far beyond that. And even more worrisome, I feel them growing in myself too.
I’ve only felt those emotions once before in my entire existence. With Valentina. I could feel them growing slowly inside me, and I could sense them radiating from her like a blinding light.
It was why I ended things. I wasn’t prepared to face the truth of what those emotions meant.
Hundreds of women—and men—have fallen in love with me over the years. But Valentina was the first woman I began to love back.
And now, with Trinity…
My gut twists uncomfortably, and I shove away the thought as my gaze slips toward the angel. I wonder if she’ll curse me when I push her away like I did to Valentina. When I inevitably break her heart.
For some reason, the thought makes my own heart ache a little, and I make a noise of irritation in my throat as Ryland leads us through the winding tunnel that moves downward in a gentle slope.
“Watch out,” Remi murmurs next to me, just as Ryland pulls up short.
Ahead of us, a thick fog fills the tunnel, shining white in the light from Ryland’s watch.
I step forward, slipping past Ryland and approaching the mist. I’m the one who knows Valentina best, so I should be the one to get us through her protection charms. And I meant what I told Ryland—I doubt any of the protections will be designed to kill. Valentina is far from an evil witch, although it would be a stretch to call her a good one either. She’s neutral, abiding by her own particular moral code as she does business with the supernaturals of New York.
Reaching out, I pass my hand through the wafting fog. A sharp zing of pain shoots up my arm, and I grimace. Taking a deep breath and clearing my mind, I focus on my intention for visiting Valentina today, trying to stamp out any thoughts of our history or resentment I hold toward her for cursing me. I think about how I mean no harm to the witch or her shop, and how all I want is to help Trinity remove the bounty from her head.
When I reach out and sweep my arm through the fog again, I feel a tingling sensation as if the limb has gone to sleep, but no pain flares.
I glance back over my shoulder. “Think of your intentions for being here. The fog has some kind of psychic link, and we need to let it know that we mean no harm. Once you’re sure you have that thought in your head, you can pass through.”
To demonstrate what I mean, I step forward, shivering as the tingling sensation expands to cover my entire body. I generally enjoy experiencing new physical sensations, but this is unpleasant.
Maybe that’s because I know it’s bringing me one step closer to seeing Valentina again.
For several steps, my vision is completely obscured by the shifting white fog. Then I emerge on the other side unharmed, and the prickling feeling fades.
The others step out of the mist behind me, and Ryland lifts his light to reveal a large door set into the stone ahead of us.
“Sawyer?” He lifts a brow at me, jerking his head toward the door. “I presume you’d like to do the honors?”
That fucker. He knows there’s nothing I’d like less. But he also knows I’ll do it. I may not be the fighter Ford is, but I’m not one to back down from anything.
Forcing my stride to remain languid and casual, I step forward, reaching for the large golden doorknob. It turns