I skittered backward. “I’ve told you all I know. I can be of no more use to Erlik.”
Confusion flickered in his eyes, then was gone. “You’re returning to Mirkwold.”
“But my brother,” I tried. “And the reverend and Elder Tomes. They told me to stay?—”
In one fluid motion so quick I didn’t see it, he stepped forward and grabbed me with both hands around my waist.
His hands were hot, nearly spanning my entire circumference.
I put my hands against his warm, bare chest and shoved. “Let me go!”
Instead of replying, he launched us into the air.
I screamed. I shoved, I kicked, I tried to drop from his arms.
The angel grunted, his grip on me only tightening. “Be still!”
“Put me down,” I shouted as he tilted into the wind. The roofs of the village and barren farmland spread beyond my feet. My vision blurred and all the air flew out of my lungs.
I was in the air. Flying. Captured by a rogue Herald. I clawed at him, no longer pushing him away but grabbing as much of him as I could. I locked my arms around his neck, burying my face in the crook of his shoulder. My legs kicked, trying to tangle with his.
I’d heard that drowning victims sometimes climbed atop their rescuers, sending them underwater in their panic to get out. I felt like that now, forced to hold onto the being who’d abducted me.
Oh, Lord Erlik, I prayed as I clung to this odious messenger, please let me survive this.
His chest rumbled, his fingers against my waist flexing.
My stomach churned. Was he about to drop me?
“Relax,” he told me, and then I realized he had laughed. Laughed. At me. I bristled, wishing for all the world I could get away from him. I didn’t want to touch him.
Those strong arms shifted, wrapping around my back. “I’ll not let you fall.”
I snorted into the warmth of his skin. He was so hot—and it was December. The wind rushed past us, and I shivered as I burrowed closer against my captor. Rage burned in my belly that he’d forced me to cling to him.
That rage made my tongue loose. “Lord Erlik is known for being a gentle shepherd of our souls!” I snapped, tilting my head up. My lips nearly touched his jawline. “What sort of Herald are you?”
He glanced down, and his warm breath ghosted across my face. “I’ll not harm you, little one.”
Fear turned my hands to claws, and I didn’t care I scratched his neck as I fought to climb him, so I’d be astride his back rather than held beneath him. Anything to hold onto, to cushion me if we fell.
“I’m not a Herald,” he said conversationally, shifting and pulling me away. It wasn’t fair how large he was, how small I was. He moved me with such confidence, his wings never faltering, as he turned me so he held me against his chest, one arm behind my back and one under my knees.
I scowled as I wrapped my arms around his neck, heart still pumping fear through my body. There was no way I was letting him do all the holding—I’d at least try to take this angel with me if he dropped me. “What do you mean?” Of course he had to be a Herald from the god Erlik—what else could he be?
The wind shifted, and he let us drift lower toward the moorland.
“I’m one of the seraphim. I’m not a Herald.”
“Our holy book says Heralds serve Erlik,” I said suspiciously.
He shrugged in response. “What’s your name?”
“Lilith Meadows,” I answered before I could stop myself. I was used to obeying men around me.
“A pleasure, Lilith. May the winds greet you. My name is Castiel.”
My blood boiled that he could be so calm and casual, chatting in the air, while I clung to him for dear life. Utterly dependent upon his goodwill. The ground was so far below I thought I might be sick. I had to be smart. It took a moment, but I swallowed my anger, resolving to please him however long it took to get my feet back on solid ground.
