Page 55 of Touched By Death

“But what about Genesis?” Alaric asks, blinking at the desk.

“How do we kill her?” Ronan looks between us.

Amenadiel turns another page in the book. “That’s what we need to figure out.”

“Let’s just hope we’re wrong about the stalker. That he hasn’t got her trapped somewhere in her mind.” Dmitriy looks at Amenadiel. “We could be wrong, right?”

“Of course.” Amenadiel scoots his chair back and scrubs a hand down his face. “I can enter through the veil, but I can’t locate he—”

Before he can finish that sentence, Dariana butts in, “Daemon can find her.”

Amenadiel freezes, and Dari hurries to add, “He likes to hunt. Trust me, Daemon knows how to hunt. If anyone can hunt her down, it’s him.”

“Only one small problem,” I drawl, standing up. “I can’t enter through the veil.”

“You can with my help,” Amenadiel reluctantly admits. Then, as if he realizes what he’s said, “I’m not powerful enough to get you all across the veil. But I should be able to conjure enough magic to bring Daemon with me.”

“Nothing beats a bit of family bonding,” Ronan quips as he stands up, and I glower at him.

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“What happens when we get her back?” Dari asks, tightening her ponytail.

Amenadiel shoves his hands inside his pockets. “Let’s not think that far ahead. We need to find her first. Before Genesis sinks her claws into Lucifer. Daemon and I will enter through the veil to try to locate her. Meanwhile, don’t let Genesis out of your sight. And whatever you do, don’t fall under her spell. She’s dangerous, and she knows how to hunt angels the same way we hunt humans.”

Ronan stifles a laugh, shooting me a brief look that I choose to ignore. “Trust me, we know.”

Grumbling under my breath, I walk past him.

Trust me to get ladened with my uncle, whom I also suspect harbors a crush on the little witch. Her nickname is proving truer by the minute—the way she seems to have cast a spell on us all. If my uncle is correct, and this is all part of her dream somehow, then we’re all at her mercy until she decides she’s done with us. Like dolls with torn limbs.

Chapter Twenty

LUCIFER

I’m very rarely surprised these days. When you’ve been around for centuries, life becomes a bore.

So when my son’s latest obsession steps through the door to the club, I blink twice. Clad in a pleated, suspender skirt and a black, leather bra that barely contains her small, but perfect, breasts, she looks like a damn vision. My heated gaze trails down her long, smooth legs to her high heels and back. As she nears, sidling past the chairs and tables closest to the stage, where two male angels spit roast a petite female, I watch her approach. Something tells me my son would slaughter everyone in this club for seeing her dressed like a temptress.

I know before she’s even lifted her gaze in my direction with that small, flirtatious smile of hers that the outfit is for my benefit. But why?

The intrigue makes my balls tingle with anticipation. I plaster on my best bored expression as she nears, despite the fact that this turn of events tickles something dark inside of me.

Pulling out a chair beside me, she plops down, and I let my gaze fall to her crossed legs. My gaze travels higher, noting how taut her stomach is and how her chest rises and falls with every inhale. A speck of blood dots her right breast, like a pearl of seduction for me to drag my tongue through and smear over that perfect, unblemished skin. “Bored of my son already?”

Her plump lips curve into a smile, and my eyes fly up to her seductive mouth. I’ve met her before, but something about her tonight draws me closer. I can’t wrap my finger around what it is. Maybe it’s the forbidden fruit she presents. If I fuck her, and I most definitely will, my son will be crushed. Something about that thought adds to the allure.

My mind conjures images of me hauling her onto the table and burying my face in her soaking cunt.

Though, I notice one thing; she keeps her wings tucked, like she wants to keep my attention away from their sheer, impressive size. Even tucked, they’re impossible to unsee, and a quick scan of the room confirms that every swinging dick in here notices them, too. Something about that irritates me enough to snap my fingers in the air.

Out of nowhere, a busty barmaid pops up by my side, and I gesture restlessly around the other patrons. “Throw out every man in here. I want them gone immediately.”

Casting an uncertain glance at the stage, she asks, “What about the performers.”

“Did I fucking stutter? I want every male out of my sight.” As she leaves, I pin my eyes on the angel in front of me, relishing in the expanse of her smooth, bare skin. “Nothing good will come from this.”

Her smile slowly grows—so slowly, I find myself watching with rapt interest how she holds my attention so easily. Once a mere annoyance, now she’s all I see. “I like to stir a little trouble.”

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