I’d kneel, she thought, but for far different reasons.
That image burned itself into her brain, and she wondered if her face went even redder. Then, to her horror, she found herself reaching out to skim her fingertips along the edges of his wings. He went taut, but her body did the exact opposite as shivery, wild sensations jolted her system and coiled between her thighs. Damn, this male was a danger to everything that made her female, and she stumbled back on unsteady legs.
“Sorry,” she whispered, hoping her voice didn’t betray her lust. “Like I said, I miss them. I want them back, but I want to get them by earning my way back to Heaven, and I can’t do that if I become a True Fallen.”
“Not joining me on the dark side, huh?” Now that she was no longer touching him, he’d relaxed, probably relieved that the crazy, horny Unfallen was keeping her hands to herself. Shrugging, he put away his wings, and the veins under his skin faded away. Good, because her fingers might have been all about his wings, but her tongue had wanted to trace every vibrant vein on his body. “Suit yourself. More evil cookies for me.”
Shooting her a wink, he sauntered off toward one of the portals that allowed travel between Sheoul-gra proper and the Inner Sanctum. Cat watched him––and his drool-worthy butt––until he disappeared around a corner.
Outside, the bird of prey screeched again, but now that she’d seen Hades’s wings, she wasn’t sure anything else could compare. As she contemplated her next move, she eyed the castrated statue and, unbidden, her mind popped an image of the bulge in Hades’s pants. She glanced down at the sad little male appendage on the floor and laughed.
Nope. No comparison.
Chapter Four
It had been three days since Cat had opened the portal from the human realm and allowed souls into the Inner Sanctum, and as far as she knew, nothing catastrophic had happened. Maybe no one had noticed. After all, there were millions of souls imprisoned in Sheoul-gra. So what if a handful had slipped through without Azagoth’s stamp of approval?
Rationalizing the whole thing didn’t make her feel a lot better, so she took out her frustration on the floor of the Great-Hall-slash-Hall-of-Souls at the entrance to Azagoth’s mansion. Why the hell did she have to polish the obsidian stone by hand, anyway? Did Azagoth not believe in buffing machines?
Okay, in all fairness, he’d never told her to clean the floor. The big jobs, like landscaping outside and maintaining the floors inside, had been assigned to the dozens of Unfallen who, like Cat, had come to live in the safety Sheoul-gra provided to those caught in the gap between Heavenly angel and True Fallen. But footprints on the floor drove Cat nuts, and today, some jackass had tracked in dirt and grass, completely ignoring the new mat she’d placed at the entrance that said, in bold red letters, WIPE YOUR DAMNED FEET.
She thought the play on “damned” was funny, given that almost everyone who came to Sheoul-gra was some sort of demon. Hades had gotten the joke, had laughed when he saw it. She still smiled when she thought about it.
She shot a fleeting glance over at the statue of Seth, which still hadn’t been repaired, but at least the two body parts were missing. Maybe Hades was trying to fix them. Hopefully, he was trying to fix them.
A tingle of awareness signaled the arrival of a newcomer into the realm – it was kind of cool how anyone who resided in Sheoul-gra developed a sensitivity to the presence of outsiders. It was usually Zhubaal’s job to meet visitors, but he was busy, so she leaped to her feet.
Happy to toss her cleaning supplies aside for a few minutes and always curious about who was paying a visit, she hoofed it out of Azagoth’s mansion to the great courtyard out front, where the portal from outside was glowing within its stone circle.
And there, striding toward her, was a magnificent male with a full head of blond, shoulder-length hair and a regal stance that could only mean he was a higher order of angel. As a lowly Seraphim, she’d rarely seen angels ranking higher than a Throne, but there was no doubt that this male was at the very top. Perhaps even a Principality, one rank below an archangel.
“E-excuse me, sire,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Can I help you?”
The big male nodded, his blond mane brushing against the rich sapphire blue shirt that matched his eyes. “I will see Azagoth.”
“I’m sorry, but he’s busy––”
“Now.”
Mouth. Dry. A lifetime of fear of higher angels made her insides quiver, even as she realized that Heavenly angels held no power here. Inhaling deeply, she reached for calm. As a fallen angel in Azagoth’s employ, she was actually more influential in Sheoul-gra than this new guy was.
Somehow, that thought didn’t make her feel any better.
“This is not your realm, angel,” she said sternly. “You can’t just poof in here and demand an audience with Azagoth.”