I blink again, and he’s speaking. “You made this possible, daughter mine. Now together, we will rule hell on earth.”
I smile at him. A smile that suddenly drops from my face. When my eyebrows pull together in a furrowed expression, my father seems to falter.
“Are you not happy?”
“Perfectly happy, Father.”
“Then what is it?”
My eyes stray away from him for a split second and move over the rooftop of one of the buildings. My every sense is heightened now. It’s different, embracing the full extent of my powers. I can make out their figures, the figures of the men I love, staring down at the havoc I helped to wreak.
“I do not want them harmed.” My voice comes out more vehement than I intend. “Any of them.”
Understanding dawns on him. He reaches between the space of our joined thrones and grasps for my hand, bringing it to his mouth to press a kiss to my knuckles. “You and your soft heart. It’s the angel blood that helps you love like you do. Very well. My gift to you. I swear no harm will befall your little toys.”
The wordslittle toysgrate ever so lightly against my nerves, but I smile anyway.
“Good.” I turn away from him again, my fingers clutching my throne. When I look down at the back of my hand, there’s a slight burn mark against my knuckles. Like that promise was somehow sealed between us with the scar of his kiss.
Shrieks and flesh searing from bone permeate the air. The circles of hell are still coming through, blowing through the portal in shadows and ice and fire. When a familiar figure steps through the portal, leather pants clinging to muscular thighs and a spiked leather jacket open to reveal carved abs, I stand from my seat.
Azazel tugs at his lapels, sweeping his gaze around at the chaos, a soft sneer lifting his lip. Then that gaze settles on me and those smoking, burning wings shift, and he prowls toward me with steps that promise danger.
“Azazel.”
His lips pull into a smile. “I told you we’d meet again, Princess.”
Slowly, my father stands from his throne. The simple action asserts his dominance over this fallen angel, causing him to sigh.
“Where are my manners?” He takes my hand and bows over it; the action is so like Saint that I smile.I wish he were here. My emotions clash just slightly, but I keep my features smooth. Cold lips press to my knuckles, right over my father’s brand. “Your Highness.”
I pull my hand away, flexing my fingers as Azazel stands and turns to bow to my father. “Brother,” he greets coldly.
“Scope out the premises,” my father commands without preamble. “If anyone is hiding, find them and bring them to me. Try not to harm the students, but your ilk can have their way with the professors. If they can tell them apart.”
Azazel’s eyes roll, and he shoves his hands into his tight pockets. “Business as usual.”
“Go.” The hard-cutting word flicks from my father’s mouth with all the viciousness of claws slipping through flesh.
Azazel bows to my father again, but this time the gesture seems almost mocking.
The wild part of me acts on primal instinct. I reach my hand out, catching his neck. My nails dig into his skin and draw blood. “Do not disrespect my father again, Azazel,” I threaten in a voice as cold as ice.
His hand smooths over my own, and I can see his eyes glowing with barely concealed amusement. “Forgive me,” he purrs. “I wouldn’t dare disrespect your father, love.” His fingers grasp my wrist, where I’m sure he feels the rapid beating of my pulse. “What kind of world would we live in if we can’t even trust our own family? Be careful, Izara.”
The words slide over me with all the dark hints of a premonition.
A threat.
A promise.
“Your Highness.” His lips brush across my skin one last time before he turns and leaves to do my father’s bidding.
Three
Syko
Walking away from Izara burns fire in my chest. It’s hard to breathe through it all. It feels like my ribs want to cave in and crush everything inside me.
