Reign A Romance Anthology - Nina Levine Page 0,217

level the building. “I’m not here to steal it. What is this place? What are these things?”

“Relics of power.” A sliver of sensation worked its way down her spine, almost as if a fingernail traversed the same path. “Who are you?”

His whisper stirred the small hairs at the base of her neck, and she knew he’d stepped out of the shadows and appeared, right behind her.

“Who are you?” she whispered back, half-turning her head to try and see him.

“Don’t you know?”

“No.”

Her breath caught in her chest. So close. So fucking close. She was dying a mortal death here.

“I am all your sins, wrought into mortal form. I am every wicked dream you’ve ever had, conjured from the night. I am your death, your despair. Your everything.”

A fist curled in her hair. Sera gasped as she was shoved forward, her hands slamming onto the glass case in order to save herself. The case remained inert. There was nothing. No kick of power. No jolt. No like calling to like.

A decoy.

It was fake, after all.

He brought his face close to her ear and held her there, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “I am your ruin, little angel. And if you’re not careful, I’ll tear these fucking wings right off you.”

A hand captured her jaw, and he turned her face to-and-fro into the glare of the spotlights. She couldn’t see him. The light was in her eyes. All she could make out was the heated flash of dark, dark eyes….

“You’re the angel,” he said, “from the dancefloor. You looked at me. You saw me. How?”

Sera’s heart kicked behind her ribs, like some sort of Morse code from Uriel urging her to get the fuck out of there. Abort, abort, abort….

But Azazel wouldn’t recognize her.

He couldn’t recognize her.

She’d been reforged into a different body, after all, one with blonder hair and curves, and a heart-shaped face punctuated by wide blue eyes. She looked like every man’s wet dream of an angel, even if the truth was as far from the blaze of glory as it could possibly be.

And the little Grace she’d been left with was wrapped small and entwined around her soul, contained by the tattooed runes she’d marked into her skin herself.

“I don’t know,” she whispered back. “I just… I could sense you.” Sera bit her lip. “Let me see you.”

Sera turned as he released her, the glass case cutting into her back. He stepped forward, letting light finally fall over him as his shroud of shadows slipped to the floor. A hand slid down her neck, pausing at the base of her throat. Just lightly, just a threat.

He gave her no room to breathe, no space to move.

Every inch of him was hard, and lean and lethal.

Azazel’s beauty was as sharp as a blade. Eyes as black as polished obsidian locked on her, and all the breath left her body as she waited, waited for some kind of recognition to light him up. His dark hair gleamed like a raven’s wing, and his olive skin made her yearn to touch it.

He’d Fallen long ago, losing his Grace in the process.

It didn’t matter.

Where humans might have fallen to their knees at an angel’s feet, prostrating themselves in their glory, they would have stopped dead in their tracks if they beheld him.

She could feel herself spinning, spinning out of control.

Because she’d loved him once.

Loved him with every inch of her heart and soul, until the moment he began speaking of the forbidden.

“Come with me, Sariel….” Those words haunted her every day and night.

“I’ll ask again. Who are you?” It was barely a whisper, but the shiver of it slid over her skin, even as his grip tightened a little cruelly. Smoke wreathed from his lips, as he lowered his other hand—and the cigarette burning there.

She tried to tear her face from his grip. “No one.”

“I had my men run a scan. Your license says your name is Seraphine Murdoch, but I find I don’t believe you.” Azazel’s gaze slid lower, his expression tightening as he caught a glimpse of her breasts. A demon in full control of himself, but still male in all the ways that counted. His gloved thumb brushed against the curve of her breast.

“I am Seraphine!”

“That one tasted a little bit like truth. What are you doing in the gallery?”

“I was walking.” She breathed the words. Glory’s kiss, what was he doing to her? One touch, and a shiver ran through her, curling like a hot,