Do I live in this building?
Nathaniel twisted his spine by moving each shoulder forward and back. The muscle cramps worsened, but now that he understood why, he didn’t mind. Wings. He would have wings, and when he did he would fly and hunt.
Hunt what?
Demons, he thought. Archangels hunt demons. It’s what I’m on this earth to do.
He waited for more detail to emerge, but none came.
Instead, recent memories scattered across his mind. The way Kate had laughed when he’d mentioned time travel, the sound as bright and self-assured as the midday sun, her head tipping back so her hair swung like a curtain inlaid with bronze and gold. And the way she kissed, which was so uninhibited that it shocked him . . . and made him ache. He could’ve kissed her deep into the night. He’d wanted to steal her away, to stake his claim on her body by burying the swollen organ between his legs inside her. He knew with certainty that making love to Kate would feel like a slice of Heaven. Need throbbed heavily through his flesh.
I should have taken her. She belongs to me.
He inhaled sharply and clenched his teeth against instincts so raw they threatened to overwhelm him. No, her consent is compulsory. Strength is not a license to take by force what must be freely given. Strength of character must match strength of body, or I am no better than my enemies.
Even as thoughts of Kate swamped him, something else fought for his attention, too.
Hurry.
Again, the rush of adrenaline, the urgency to move without an exact direction.
He rubbed his temple and pulled into a parking spot, looking up at the building’s lacquer accents and Art Deco lines. He had a knowledge of architecture, he realized. He’d lived through thousands of years of history, had seen buildings and monuments erected. Fragments filtered through like light through a veil.
Nathaniel climbed from Kate’s jeep and walked to the smoked glass doors under the maroon canopy with white lettering that announced CRIMSON. He remembered the thump of loud music.
Crimson’s a nightclub.
He wondered if Kate liked to dance. His body tightened at the thought of holding her in his arms again. All that softness that smelled sweet as spring rain, her lips the texture of flower petals pressed . . . He shook his head to clear it.
In the lobby, the security officer looked down from his perch and raised his eyebrows.
“And who are you supposed to be? One of the wise men after he’s been mugged?”
Nathaniel glanced at his clothes. Kate had mocked them as well. He’d assumed that he’d traveled through time in them, but that was apparently not true. He ran his hand over the rough cloth. It felt comfortable and familiar, but he clearly needed to change if he didn’t want to invite derision.
He doesn’t know me; this is not where I live.
“I’m Nathaniel. You don’t recognize me?”
“No,” the man said with a laugh. “You’d never get into Crimson in that get-up.”
“I probably wasn’t dressed this way, and I may not have been at the club. I could’ve been here to visit someone who lives in the building.”
“You must really have tied one on if you can’t remember what you were doing here last time. Why don’t you go home and come back when you know who you want to see.”
Nathaniel glanced past the desk to the bank of elevators. The ones in the foreground had numbers, but the back one was separate and had the word penthouse above it.
Nathaniel pictured a rooftop garden. Statues. Orange trees. He’d been on the building’s roof.
“I’d like to see the person who lives in the penthouse.”
The man laughed again. “Buddy, except for a few beautiful babes and the guys who work for him, nobody tries to see the boss. And you’d better hope he doesn’t want to see you either because that would mean your number’s up.” The man continued to look amused.
“He’s an assassin?” Another archangel?
“He used to be an enforcer. Now he owns this building and about five blocks in every direction. His name is Merrick, and he doesn’t see anyone before five.”
Merrick.