CHAPTER ONE
Names have power.
Too much power.
My enemy lies on the cold floor with my claws at his throat.
One downward cut will end him, and yet…
He calls meDaughter.
A week ago, I escaped the cell in which I was imprisoned for my entire life. My mother gave birth to me in that darkness and raised me until she died in my arms.
She taught me many things while she was alive, but none more important than the reason why I was born in a supernatural prison: I was the heir to a powerful empire that others would kill to control. My father had been murdered, my mother betrayed, and everything had been taken from me.
I was only thirteen when she died. It took me another ten years to escape the prison and seek revenge.
Now, I’m here to kill this dark angel because I believed he was the one who murdered my father and stole my empire. I believed he was my uncle—my father’s jealous brother.
He’s lying beneath my claws and drawing breath at my mercy and yet…
“Daughter?” That single name carries so much power that it propels me away from him, compelling me to let him go.
I leap backward across the cold, stone floor of this small, dark space, feeling like the inky-black walls are closing in around me.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head rapidly. “You died.”
He jumps to his feet with aswooshof black wings. His skin is as pale as a distant star, his face framed by black hair, both of which make his golden eyes glow even more brightly. He is tall, lean, and gaunt—a perfectly beautiful dark angel whose smirk makes my blood run cold.
“Yes,” he says. “The man I used to be… He died and is no more.”
His gaze tears at me, as if he would peel me apart, dissecting me layer by layer. He gives a soft laugh, his posture relaxed. “Why did you stop fighting me, Daughter? You came for revenge, so take it!”
He moves in a flash, leaping toward me in a flurry of wings, his hard-as-a-rock fist crashing toward me.
I dart out of his path, narrowly avoiding the crushing blow he would have landed across my jaw.
I have nowhere to go.
The whole space is only fifty paces from side to side, although it stretches high above me, so far that I can’t see the ceiling. The dark walls sparkle, as if little stars have been painted on them, and the only piece of furniture is a pedestal that sits in the middle of the room.
There’s only one other person here with us: the dark angel named Lucian, who huddles against the far wall, his sporadic breathing telling me how badly injured he is. He hasn’t willingly involved himself in our interaction, and I don’t expect him to jump in now.
I can’t see an exit. There’s no outline of a door. No way out, as far as I can tell.
I barely have the chance to recover my balance when the man who claims to be my father comes after me.
“Take your revenge for the years I left you to rot in prison,” he snarls.
I throw myself backward, desperately trying to stay out of his path as both of his fists smack into the stone wall one after the other, sending cracks through the surface.
“Take your revenge for the years of darkness and starvation I inflicted on you!” he shouts.
His speed would be awe-inspiring if he weren’t my opponent. Instead, it’s simply terrifying.
A split second after his fist crashes into the wall far too close to my face, he drops and sweeps his left wing low, attempting to knock me off my feet. In my effort to evade the move, I don’t miss the fist he aims at my bare stomach. I’m wearing nothing more than a black bra and long, black pants, leaving much of my torso exposed.
My back hits the wall, pinned there by his left hand, the airwhooshingout of my chest in a painful rush.
