She gulped before she gave up her answer. “They have the spawn of Michael.”
“Tell me where he is.”
Shaking her head, she pulled away from him and went to cower in a corner of his study. “I don’t know.”
Thorn reached for her, which caused the shadows that were concealing her to shrink away and leave her exposed to his gaze. Even they knew not to tempt him when he was in this mood. No one, other than his own father, dared his wrath when he was like this.
Squeaking, she tried to teleport out of his study, but he used his powers to trap her here.
“Don’t, Misery. Just don’t.”
She visibly shook as she sprang to her feet and moved to put a chair between them. “I swear to the Source, I have no idea. They … they know I serve … that I’m bound to you. T-t-there’s only so much they’ll say in my presence.”
He threw his arm out and drew her to him so that he could wrap a single hand around her throat. Not tightly, but enough to remind her of how much power and how little regard he had where her life was concerned. “I hate you for what they did to me. Do you understand?”
She nodded eagerly.
“I should never have been conceived or born. And I begrudge all of you every single breath I’ve ever drawn. For that alone, it’s a daily struggle not to kill you.” He tightened his grip to let her know how serious he was. “You will find the Seraph they hold before he’s turned or I will spend the rest of eternity going to bed to the sounds of your screams for mercy. Do you understand that?”
“I understand, my lord.”
“Good. Now go!” He cast her away from him and watched as she scrambled from his study.
Fury pounded through his veins so vehemently that it caused his own wings to jut out. His skin turned the vibrant gold he resented even more. Ever since the day he’d learned who and what he really was.
How his mother had come to spawn him …
Damn them all to the fiery pits!
“Forneus?”
Great. That was just the maggot-licking bastard he needed to suffer in this mood. What? Were the gods really that bored?
Reining in his temper as best he could, he turned to find the last creature he wanted to face.
Second only to his father.
Folding his wings down, Thorn crossed his arms over his chest. “Michael … been a while.”
Seven feet in height, he was a massive bastard. Whereas most of the Seraphim were pretty enough to pass as women, Michael was ruggedly handsome. No one would ever mistake him for a Seraphia. And in his Seraph form, he was snow white—armor, weapons, every part of him.
Even his eyes were a stark silvery blue.
So it was always shocking to Thorn how dark the tool was whenever he donned a more human appearance. Dark hair, tanned skin. The only thing that remained the same were those celestial blue eyes that glittered like spiked icicles in front of a setting sun.
And they had the same effect today that they always did on him.
He wanted to punch the sanctimonious bastard in the face.
“What are you doing here, Mikey? Last I heard, none of you would sully yourself by crossing the boundary into this dimension.”
“You have something that belongs to me.”
“No. I have something that belongs to your bloodline and I promised her that I’d return it. So sod off.”
Michael let out a tired sigh. “You can’t help it, can you?”
“What?”
