“Yes, you. I’m Olivia,” the angel said with a sweet smile. A white robe draped her from shoulders to ankles, making her look as if she’d just stepped from a dream.
Viola jumped out of the cart and hurried past Olivia. “Have fun girls, I’m needed elsewhere.” Pale hair streaming behind her, she disappeared into the ballroom about a yard ahead.
“I recognize you,” Sienna said, even though the two of them had never met. She stood on shaky legs, closed the distance—heaven, my heaven—and reached out, pinching a strand of those curls between her fingers. Soft, silky. “Wrath loves you, I think.”
Olivia’s smile went full-on sunshine as she scratched Sienna behind her ear. “How’s my darling boy doing?”
Wrath purred like a kitten.
“He’s, uh, good.”
“I’m glad. He really is a sweetheart, isn’t he?”
Wrath?
The demon rolled to his back, kicked up his legs and shook as great tides of rapture swept over him.
“Let’s you and me chat later, all right?” Olivia said, arm dropping to her side. While Wrath pouted like a toddler, the angel added, “Aeron sent me to find you. He wanted to speak to you himself, but he can’t see you and conversing with the woman who has his Wrath through a third party would be a little too painful. Maybe one day. But I digress. He’s ready to leave this castle and hunt for Legion, but won’t because Paris is about to have an aneurism. At least, that’s what Aeron said, and he thinks you’re the only one who can calm his boy down.”
Paris. Worry instantly flooded her, her demon’s preoccupation with the angel overshadowed. “Where is he?”
“Just follow the trail Viola blazed.” Stepping to the side, Olivia motioned toward the ballroom.
Sienna darted into motion, flying through the open doorway and once again stopping dead in her tracks. A group of the warriors and their mates stood under a banner that said only INTERVENTION in big block letters. They each held a piece of paper. Viola had taken her place in the center, shifting eagerly, ready to say her piece.
Sienna’s gaze locked on the warrior named Aeron, the man who’d once hosted Wrath. He had closely cropped dark hair, beautiful violet eyes, and his body, which had once been covered in the tattooed images of the victims of his blood rages, was now slowly being covered with tattoos of his angel.
Seeing him, Wrath went crazy inside Sienna’s head, wanting to reach out, to touch the warrior. Friend. My friend.
I know, but now’s not the time to catch up with him. Honestly? She wasn’t sure any time would be right. The guy scared her. He looked like he ate kittens for breakfast and thumb tacks for lunch. His dinner wasn’t something she dared contemplate. Organs might be involved.
Wrath pouted. The demon had wanted back inside of Aeron as much as Sienna had wanted to get rid of him. But she had changed her mind, and she hoped Wrath had, too. He wasn’t begging to escape her. For all she knew, he was as addicted to Paris as she was.
Friend. Talk to friend.
Soon, she promised. Wrath whimpered, and she had to force herself to look away. Paris stood in front of the group, his back to Sienna. His sun-bronzed skin was bare from the waist up, and his muscles were knotted. At his sides, his hands were fisted.
Anya was reading her letter out loud. “—you’re okay, I guess. I mean, if Lucien says you’re good people, you’re good people. I think you’ve got a really hot body with a lot of delicious brawn and sinew, and even though I wouldn’t do you without having an emergency medical exam afterward, a lot of women with low self-esteem would totally hit that.”
“Anya,” Lucien said with a truckload of exasperation.
She glanced up at him, all innocence. “What? You said start the letter with praise before going into the root of the problem. Now zip it so I can finish. You already got to read yours.” She cleared her throat, glanced back down at the paper. “Making out with an invisible woman is a disease. And really creepy. If I see you with your hands squeezing air one more time, I’m going to sandpaper my corneas.”
“Enough,” Paris said with quiet menace.
“My turn,” Viola said.
Ignoring both of them, the lithe goddess of Anarchy continued. “Add in the fact that Inviso-babe is a Hunter, and you’ve got a recipe for oh, shit. Which isn’t good for your health. Or ours. Mainly ours. That is why we humbly request that you enter some sort of treatment program before that woman enters you in a death program with guns, knives and a rack. And by rack I don’t mean boobs.”
Wow, that hurt. It shouldn’t. Sienna had brought this on herself, deserved it one hundred percent, and had done nothing to earn their trust. Still. Ouch. Her lover’s friends had hosted an intervention to get Sienna out of his life.
One of Paris’s hands slid back, around his waist, his fingers curling around the hilt of a knife.
He was going to blow a fuse, she thought, and she didn’t want him at war with his friends because of her. Not now, not ever. So, yeah, she was leaving. Sooner rather than later.
Her chest constricted, heralding the sharp lances of pain from a breaking heart. Didn’t matter, though. She would take one more day with him. Just one. Then, bye-bye forever. “Paris,” she said, doing her best to mask her hurt.
He spun, those electric-blues she loved so much crackling with fury, the malicious shadows dancing through their depths.
Gently she said, “Come up to the roof with me,” and waved him over. “I need to practice my flying.” Truth, and the reason she wasn’t leaving the fortress right this second, was instead allowing herself this extra day with him. She had to be prepared for anything. And, yeah, she wanted to say goodbye properly—in bed. “No need to worry about the vines there. The gargoyles eat the walls clean, and William’s blood is on the outer rail, I checked, so the shadows won’t bother us, either.”
“My friends are… They need…” He was dragging oxygen through his nose so intensely his nostrils were flaring.
“No, they don’t. You are not going to be mad at them over this.” A command she had no power to enforce, but one she would see through.
“Yes, I am.”
Behind him, Viola relayed the conversation only she and Lucien could hear, clearly thrilled to be the center of attention. Sienna tuned her out. Only Paris mattered right now.
More forcefully, she said, “Paris, I’m not offended by this.” She was destroyed. “Now come here. I need a cheerleader, and I’m thinking you’ll look great in a skirt, holding poms.”
He didn’t crack a smile. That unholy, malevolent rage still held him in a tight grip. So, really, there was only one other thing do to.
“Catch me,” she said, sprinting to him. He would never forgive himself if he fought his loved ones.
“No, don’t come near me while I’m like…this. Humph.”
She’d launched herself at him. Those strong arms did indeed catch her, winding around her and clamping on like shackles. Tremors vibrated from him and into her.
Acting fast, she nipped at his ear. “If you hurt them, you’ll get blood on my castle walls—well, more blood, and I’ll be very upset.” Only once before had she ever tried to use feminine wiles, and that had been the first time they met. Now she lifted her head just enough for him to see her face, and batted her lashes. “Please come to the roof with me. Please.”
He peered at her for a long while, silent, before finally relaxing. He pressed a kiss straight into her mouth, daring the quickest of tastes, the tease, before striding out with her still clutched in his arms.
“My eyes,” Anya whined. “Oh, my eyes.”
“I think we just made a huge mistake,” Lucien said gravely.