Storm of Sin Page 10

  “And after? After you…helped him capture his victims?” Zoe asks, her voice barely a whisper.

  “I was the one who chained them so he could brand them. Who transported them to whatever location Thorn had chosen to allow others to come and torment his victims. I cleaned up their dead bodies when their minds broke entirely. And I am the one who failed to help so many who begged me to kill them.”

  I slam my hand against the sill, cracking the wood, then whirl around. “Are you satisfied now, Zoe? Because I could go on about the parts I remember. How they screamed while being branded. How they sobbed as Thorn invaded their thoughts. Do you want to know how it felt? Because I can tell you that as well.”

  Zoe strides over to me, shoulders thrown back, but her breath stutters in her chest. I expect anger. Horror. Disgust.

  Instead, she wraps her arms around me. She’s shaking, and I know I am the cause, but still, she offers comfort? All I want to do is lose myself in her embrace, but I do not deserve this, and I pull away. “What was that?” I ask.

  “My way of reminding you that you don’t have to solve this case alone.” Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and she blinks hard before she returns to the counter and slides her tablet into her bag. “We should get out of here. I’d much rather go through the SFPD report somewhere I don’t feel like Temple’s ghost is watching me.”

  I arch a brow. “There are no ghosts here.”

  “There are for me.”

  Sixteen

  Sin

  The parking structure beneath this building is poorly lit, with too many blind corners for my liking. But Zoe believes Temple kept a storage unit in the far corner of this garage, and though she would prefer to be anywhere other than here, her sense of duty will not let her leave without seeing it.

  “There is no mention of any storage unit on the SFPD inventory of his assets,” I say, following her as she weaves among rows of cars. “Are you certain about this?”

  “No. But Temple was the kind of guy to have a...” she gestures vaguely with her hand, “bug-out bag.”

  “A what?”

  “A go bag. Money, a fake ID...secrets.” Zoe shrugs. “And if he had one, he’d want me to destroy it.”

  I fail to see how this will help us, and after finding the orange blossom in Jacinda’s file cabinet, I worry Thorn and Regina know I am searching for them. True coincidences are far fewer than humans believe. If this was a warning, Zoe and I are both in danger.

  “There are fifty storage lockers here, Zoe. We do not have time to break into every one of them.”

  “We don’t have to,” she snaps and tosses a scathing glare over her shoulder. “It’s this one.” Yanking her lock picks from her bag, she goes to work on locker number three-two-four, but her movements are punctuated by anger and grief.

  “Give me those.” The closer we get to dusk, the less patience I can muster. If Regina follows the established schedule, she will not take another woman tonight. Or tomorrow. But she will be searching. She may even choose a victim and compel them to return the next night. And the night after that. A test of sorts.

  Zoe curses as I snatch the lock picks away, but I sidestep her and have the door open in under ten seconds.

  “There. Take what you need so we can get out of here.”

  “There’s that stick again.” Zoe shoves me aside and reaches for a black bag. “Be careful when you sit down, Sin. Pretty sure this one’s big enough to rip you a new asshole.”

  My fury rises as I growl, and she stares at me, her lips parted slightly. “Your eyes are almost completely red. Are you okay?”

  “Fuck. I need to feed. Soon.”

  Zoe takes two quick steps back, the satchel clutched to her chest like it could somehow protect her if I decided to make her my next meal.

  “I promised you I would not take from you, and I do not care how hungry I am, I keep my promises,” I retort. “But when I am in this state, I am—as you have aptly stated—an asshole.”

  “Oh.” She relaxes slightly, nods, and turns, pointing to the stairwell in the corner that leads to the street. “Then let’s get out of here so you can find a meal. But drop me at home first. I’m not sure I’m ready to watch you feed.”

  My response is lost to an explosion that rocks the asphalt under our feet. Bits of stone rain down around us, and a dull roar is the only thing I can hear as I shout Zoe’s name. She’s on her stomach a few feet away, one of the columns of lockers lying across her legs.

  No! I spring for her and toss the metal monstrosity aside. She flips over—thank fuck—but pain tightens small lines around her eyes. Her lips move, but my hearing has not returned to normal yet, and her words are unintelligible. Her actions, however, are not. She gestures behind me, and when I look over my shoulder, all of my anger and fear finds a target.

  Through the dust, I make out two men stalking towards us from the far end of the structure. One has a large, tubular weapon positioned on his shoulder. The other carries what looks suspiciously like an AK-47. And behind them? No. No, no, no. Regina.

  Grabbing Zoe’s hand, I pull her up and start to run for the stairs, but a fiery projectile whistles past us—only a foot away from my head. I barely have time to wrap my arms around my partner, spin, and use my body as a shield before the ordinance hits. Something slams into my back to the right of my spine, knocking the breath from my lungs.

  For a precious second, the world stands still, and then every fiber of my being is consumed by agony. Zoe writhes under me, yelling right in my ear. “Sin! Get up! We have to move!”

  With a groan, I roll off her, and she pushes to her knees as she draws her weapon.

  “Call for backup!”

  “There is...no backup that can...get here in time. Regina…” The only thing saving us now? Our damaged hearing and roar of the burning cars all around us. Otherwise, the Fae would have already compelled us into obedience. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I search for a way out. A diversion. Somewhere we can survive another blast.

  After firing another two shots at the men, she glances back at me. “Oh, God. Sin. There’s...a piece of rebar sticking out of your back!“

  “Do you think I had not noticed?” I snap. My strength is fading quickly. Too quickly. “Help me up. We must get closer to the stairs.”

  Zoe takes my arm and drapes it over her shoulders. We stumble towards the twisted metal and pile of rubble, ducking behind a mangled car. “We’re sitting ducks here!” She fires another shot, then drops into a crouch.

  “I can get us out,” I manage, my voice cracking on every other word. “But only if I...” Fuck. I promised her I would not feed from her. But if I do not, we will both die. Or worse. I have no choice. Better to beg for forgiveness than to watch her descend into madness at Thorn's hand.

  Zoe arches a brow. “Holy shit, asshole. Are you asking if you can feed from me when there’s a guy with a fucking rocket launcher reloading a hundred feet away?”

  Zoe shoves the pistol into its holster, then tangles her hands in my hair and slams her lips against mine.

  Fuck me. She tastes like watermelon and fresh rain. The heady mix of her fear and arousal flows through me, and I cup the back of her neck, guiding her into my lap. I want her. All of her. From her soft moans, she feels thee same.

  I could spend years kissing her. Decades. Lifetimes. But as soon as the telltale prickle starts along my shoulder blades, I pull hard on the tether between us, soaking up as much of her energy as I can in this final moment, then break off the kiss.

  “You...will not like what comes next, my little pearl. Hold on.”

  A furrow deepens between Zoe’s brows, despite the high that comes from such a deep feeding. “Sin?”

  I stand in one fluid motion, ignoring the piece of rusted metal still embedded in my back, and strip off my jacket. Bullets pelt my chest, but they bounce off harmlessly—save for leaving burned holes in my shirt.

  The corner of the garage glows from the power flowing through me, a
nd with a roar, I break the chains I have kept locked since Lucifer released me from Hell. My wings burst forth with a great whoosh, I scoop Zoe into my arms, and take off at a run.

  The man with the AK-47 continues to fire, despite Regina trying to shout in his ear, and I wrap my wings around my partner to shield her, picking up speed with each step.

  A wave of celestial energy—a power I did not know I could still muster—sends both men and Regina flying back, and I slam into the concrete wall hard enough to burst through into a back alley where I let instinct take over.

  Zoe screams as my feet leave the ground, locks her legs around my hips, and buries her face against my neck.

  I doubt she will be able to hear me, but I have to try to reassure her. “You are safe with me, Zoe. I promise.”

  Seventeen

  Zoe

  We’re flying. Holy fucking shit, we’re actually flying. My partner has wings. Beautiful black wings that make almost no sound as he carries us over the city.

  His blood soaks into my sweater, and when I find the courage to open my eyes, his expression is pained and his skin pale. The steady beat of his wings falters, and we tumble maybe twenty feet before he regains control and turns, making a beeline for a tall building in Pacific Heights.

  As we land on a narrow balcony, he loses his balance, and I do my best to keep him upright, but I feel like I’ve had half a bottle of Jack on an empty stomach—dizzy and weak and freaked the fuck out.

  “Sin. Keep it together.” I try to force some strength into my tone, and he blinks hard, then buries his face in the curve of my neck to stifle a groan. The sound startles me, as does the intimate contact, but only for the split second it takes me to realize his wings are now gone. “Where are we?” I ask when he tries to straighten, fails, and leans heavily on me once more.

  “My place.”

  The balcony door is unlocked, thank God, and I try not to gape as I help him through the lavish living room and into the bathroom where he half-sits, half-collapses onto a plush, black rug over tile that probably cost more than I made last year.

  “You have to remove the rebar,” he grits out and flops onto his stomach. “I will heal...”

  The last word is barely audible, and when I gently slap his cheek and call his name, there’s no response. Shit.

  Move, Zoe. You can do this. He needs you.

  His black shirt is already shredded from the bullets and his wings, and I tear it from his body in long strips. They’ll do until I find a first aid kit. “This is going to hurt,” I say as I wad a length around the thick piece of metal protruding from his back and then wrap my fingers around the rebar. Bracing myself with my foot against his hip, I pull. Hard.

  The sound. Oh, fuck. You don’t ever forget a sound like that. But the metal clatters to the floor, and blood soaks the wadded up material. “If you were lying to me about healing, I’m going to kill you.”

  Smart, Zoe. You’d be killing a dead man.

  Despite my fears, when I swap the soaked remnant of shirt for a thick black towel from the rack, the bleeding has slowed, and the edges of the wound look almost as if they’re starting to knit back together.

  Mostly convinced he’s not going to die in the next few minutes, I crawl over to the sink and pull myself up. My eyes are sunken, almost bruised, and I’m covered in cement dust, dirt, and Sin’s blood. My legs ache where the lockers fell on me, and my shoulder throbs.

  My partner still hasn’t moved, but he’s breathing, so I rummage around in drawers and cabinets until I find a fully stocked first aid kit and extra towels.

  Everything is pristine—or was until he bled all over the floors—so I take off my boots before I rush through what has to be one of San Francisco’s top ten most expensive places to live in search of the kitchen. I pass a media room, for fuck’s sake.

  But I come back with a bowl for warm water and more towels. “Sin?” His eyelids flutter, but that’s the only indication he can hear me. “It’s way too early in our partnership for this. I’d say you owe me, but you saved my life, so I guess we’ll call it even.”

  Babbling steadily, which has to be my brain’s way of keeping me from losing my shit, I strip off his pants, socks, and—sweet Jesus—his boxer briefs. The man has an ass I could bounce a quarter off of. Even with so many long-healed scars, he’s magnificent, and I think I say that at one point when I swipe a washcloth over his hip.

  I wish I could stop here and drag him to his bed, but the man is fastidious to a fault, so I have to roll him over and clean off the rest of the blood.

  I slide my hands under his bulk—one at his hip and another at his chest, and I’m about to heave when he whispers, “Zoe. I can...manage once I can stand. Help me get to my knees first.”

  It takes us three tries, and my high school principal, Sister Margaret, would be horrified that I don’t avert my eyes from the very impressive full frontal view of him I get as I help him to the shower and turn on the faucet.

  With his hand braced against the marble, he grimaces, then steps under the spray with his back to me. “There is another bathroom down the hall with spare towels and a robe in the linen closet. You are running on pure adrenaline. Unless you want to sleep covered in my blood—which I would prefer you do not as my sheets are all thousand thread count, I suggest you clean up now.”

  I’m about to snap at him for not caring if I pass out when he glances over his shoulder at me, a glint in his eyes. “Though I would prefer you join me in here.”

  “I’ll be fine on my own, thank you. And I’m not going to sleep here tonight.“

  I stalk out of the room, but I swear I hear him say, “We’ll see about that,” as I slam the door behind me.

  Sin

  She knows. As does Regina and the humans who attacked us. Only two in this realm had any idea of my true parentage before today: Maddox and his partner, Killian. Not even Commander Eve knew.

  Now... I fully expect the commander to call at any moment. If she has not done so already. I have no idea where my phone is, or if it is still functional. Certainly someone noticed an angel flying over San Francisco.

  The pain from my injuries was so great, I do not believe my glamour hid us well enough. Even so, Regina and her two human minions had plenty of time to see exactly what I am.

  As the hot water runs down my aching back, I scour the fragmented memories from my time under Thorn's control. My one act of rebellion. I only managed to hide my angelic origins from him because I refused to accept them myself. But when I dragged him and Regina down to Hell, did he find out then? Or, perhaps, did Lucifer somehow let it slip?

  Incubi are capable of flight, but a full-blood incubus has wings covered in skin, not the long black feathers I brazenly put on display. He may not have known before, but he certainly knows now. And that will only stoke his desire to capture me yet again.

  When the water runs clear, I wrap myself in a towel and listen. There is no noise from the guest bathroom. No sounds at all. Fuck. If Zoe left, I will have to find her. She is in danger now because of me. Because she was seen with me.

  Given how much I took from her, I am amazed she had enough left in her to care for me. And then the truth hits me. I left her alone. She could have passed out in the shower. Or worse...what if she opted for a bath?

  Panic shoots through my limbs, giving me speed I should not have to race through the penthouse. I do not breathe until I find her curled on the floor in front of my closet with one of my shirts draped over her naked body.

  “Zoe.” On my knees, I cup her cheek and run my thumb down her neck. Her pulse is steady, if a bit slow, and she makes a small sound of displeasure as she tries to bat my hand away.

  “Lemme sleep,” she slurs.

  “I will. But not here.” I do not have long before I am forced to join her. And when I wake, I will again require sexual energy to complete my healing. Now that I have tasted her, felt her give to me willingly, I wonder how in the world I will ever be satisfied taking from anot
her.

  Scooping Zoe into my arms, I relish the warmth of her skin, her scent, and the way she nestles closer to me. But she did not ask for this. To be fed from so deeply, her own energy stores are almost gone. I hurt her, and it does not matter that she offered herself up to me.

  It is not easy to maneuver her arms into my shirt without waking her, but after a few moments, I do up the buttons, and she is blessedly no longer bared to me. My dick is hard as steel, and I burn with need for her. I have never felt this way about anyone I have fed from. But my exhaustion grows heavier with each passing second until it overwhelms my arousal.

  I barely manage to pull on a pair of boxer briefs before I collapse into bed next to her and draw the blankets over us. With my last shred of awareness, I withdraw my backup cell phone from the nightstand, power it on, and send the commander a message.

  Attacked. Need cover story for explosions under James Temple’s building. We are safe, but need rest. Will check in tomorrow.

  Eve will find a way to explain the destruction of the garage. As for the angel soaring over San Francisco…no one will be able to explain that.

  Eighteen

  Zoe

  My body aches. Like I ran a marathon without training a lick. Every muscle seems determined to tell me how displeased it is, and stretching my legs feels damn near impossible.

  It’s dark, and my brain’s fuzzy. This isn’t my apartment. Or my bed. And...holy shit. I’m not alone.

  I sit bolt upright, immediately regretting the motion as the room spins and I collapse back against the pillows with a grunt.