Along with every-fucking-thing else, he was obsessed. How the hell was he supposed to get over that, if even a dead Mark and her terror couldn’t diminish it?
“Help me get out,” she begged.
His forehead dropped to rest against hers, which was hot and damp.
Shit. Deep shit.
Her fingertips dug into the muscles framing his spine. “Say something, damn you!”
Inhaling sharply, he slipped into the tried and true lines he always used to calm skittish Marks. “I know this is tough for you. But think of the good works you will do, the people you will save—”
“Like him?” Eve gestured viciously at the alleyway below. “Isn’t that what he was told, too? What about his good works? What about the people he was supposed to save? Are they just as fucked as he is now?”
“Eve . . .”
She shoved him away. “Tough for me? That’s all you’ve got to say? Some propaganda bullshit? There is a dead man down there. Without . . . his . . . head!”
“Give me a break, Eve,” he snapped, angrier with himself than with her. “I’m trying to help.”
“Try harder.”
Her lithe form vibrated with her inner turmoil. She was covered in jeans, shirt, and sweater jacket. Her hair was in a simple ponytail that accentuated the exotic tilt of her eyes. Her face was devoid of makeup, allowing the porcelain perfection of her Asian skin to take the stage.
Reed struggled with his attraction to her, a magnetism that started in his gut and worked its way out. Having been surrounded by brunettes for centuries, his first exposure to blondes had spurred a fascination with fair-haired beauties like Sara. Yet here he was, fighting an itch that wouldn’t quit over a woman who looked nothing like his “type.”
“What kind of training is this?” Eve rubbed her eyes with her fists. “No one said anyone was going to die!”
“Accidents happen, rarely. Overzealous and frightened Marks are unpredictable. But never like this. Never murder.”
The sky darkened as clouds rolled in so fast they appeared to be on fast-forward. The breeze turned chilly, whipping the long strands of Eve’s hair across her face. Reed watched her frame stiffen and her fists clench. He shifted to the edge of the roof and looked down at the scene unfolding beneath them.
Raguel hovered several feet above the ground, his arms and wings spread wide. His head was back, his eyes glowing gold and trained heavenward. His mouth was open in a silent scream. It was a riveting sight, both eerie and beautiful.
As Eve drew abreast of Reed, her hand pushed into his. She leaned over cautiously, her balance maintained by her death grip on him.
“What is he doing?” she asked, her voice ripped away by the furious wind.
“Lamenting. Sharing his grief with the Lord.”
“I have something to share with the Lord,” she muttered. “A piece of my mind.”
Thunder cracked, booming through the dark gray sky.
“Watch it,” Reed admonished, squeezing her hand in warning.
“Did the faery do this?”
“Faery?”
Eve pulled wind-whipped strands of hair out of her mouth. “The Infernal we were hunting in this exercise.”
“You always blame us first.”
Reed turned to face the speaker. So did Eve.
A dour-faced woman with gray hair that matched her gray suit stood just outside the stairwell door. Her laser-bright eyes told him she was an Infernal a second before the scent of her decaying soul did. She was staring at his hand holding Eve’s, which seemed to remind Eve of the connection. She tugged her hand free.
Eve shouted to be heard above the storm. “Don’t get pissy. It’s a valid question.”
“Pox on you.” The Infernal approached with a pigeon-toed stride that did much to mitigate the intimidating force of her glower. Her details weren’t visible, but her accent and haggard appearance suggested that she was a Welsh gwyllion—a demon known for its ability to inspire trust and confidence while leading mortals directly into danger. “We’re out here in this dump, playing your idiotic war games, training assassins how to kill our kind. Yet every time something goes wrong, we are the first to be blamed.”
A bark of laughter escaped Reed. He couldn’t help it. A self-righteous Infernal? Now he’d seen everything.
Eve stared at the gwyllion for a long moment, then she started forward, her steps deliberate and unwavering. “That’s total crap. You’re not here out of the goodness of your rotten soul. You’re here because you can’t be wherever you would really like to be and you want to save your damned hide.”