Page 86 of Angel's Enemy Omega

Nur is struck with the strangest double vision. He’s no longer in the hall, but behind the door. He’s lying on a cold steel table, dizzy and exhausted. The steel door shudders. There’s a reason he has to get up—a very important reason. What is it?

My dream.

But it’s nothimwho’s in the room. It’s Arsene.

Nur struggles to his feet, ignoring the pain. He’s felt far worse.

“Get away from there!” he growls.

The angel turns his cold black gaze on Nur. There’s nothing in those eyes that’s alive and intelligent. There will be no reasoning with the creature. To have any chance against him, Nur will have to become like him: a mindless animal. He straightens to his full height—and more. His clothes rip at the seams and fall away. His body stretches and breaks and reforms as his Hellform grows.

Seeing a threat, the angel lunges at him again. This time Nur he rebuffs the attack with ease and swipes his attacker into the wall. The angel grunts as he slams into the concrete. The hallway trembles with the force of it. Nur strides toward the fallen creature, ready to do anything to keep the angel away from his mate. Hurt him. Kill him. Bring the weak human structure down on their heads so this evil place is gone forever?—

“Nur!”

Chapter 48

ARSENE

Arsene is trapped in sludge.He lies still and silent in the dark room, his body trying desperately to heal itself with its pathetic reserves. His bag lies next to him on the table, holding the store of serum he uncovered just before the sentinel attacked. The box was damaged when he found it, all but the bottom layer of vials broken open and empty.

His mission is a failure.

He had no chance against the sentinel. Failing to defend himself, he turned tail. He should have paid attention to the first signs—the ancient sword and uniform, the way he found the serum so carefully placed in the middle of the locked steel container. The angel must have found it open and put his prize within, then shut it, expecting it to protect the serum forever.

Arsene’s predecessor hadn’t abandoned his mission at all, but stayed in the bunker and slowly gone feral. Crazed from being stuck down here for so long.

Or the whole thing drove him mad. The loneliness of the wastes. Knowing you’re not welcome home until you’ve found what you were sent here for. And then the broken vials.In spite of his pain, his heart aches for the primus lost inside that huge form.

A chill runs through him and he shivers violently, the shaking triggering a sharp pain in his ribs. Primus aren’t supposed to be capable of going feral anymore. Sentinel training was meant to put a stop to that. But the Council had to know it was possible. Did they lie about the risks, or did the sentinel accept it could happen and take the mission anyway, propelled by duty?

What would he have done?

Questions swimming in his head, he drifts in and out of consciousness. If he’s lucky, the steel door will hide his scent until he can rest and heal. Nur was right—the Deadlands are slowly leeching away his vitality. He falls into an uneasy sleep, punctured by dreams of the battlefield. Rifles snapping, demons howling. The muted thump-thump of grenades going off in the tunnels. Battle-mates shouting his name.Arsene. Pick up your sword. Arsene!

“Arsene!”

He jolts.

Nur’s voice.

It can’t be.

Pounding rattles the door. “Arsene!”

He pushes himself upright slowly. A trap?

Sitting up makes his head spin. He breathes deeply and shuts his eyes, trying to right himself. It can’t possibly be Nur. He must be hearing what he wants to hear.

Then the bond spikes with sudden, sharp pain. Arsene’s heart jerks into double time. He can’t be here. Nur is far away from this cursed place—Arsene watched him leave.

But what if he’s not?

He grabs the knife from his bag and stumbles to his feet. The door rattles again as he lifts the heavy brace from its bracket, and terrible noises come from the other side. If there’s even the slightest possibility he’s wrong, he has to open it. Even if thisis how the sentinel went mad—chased around the bunker by illusions of his mate. Arsene doesn’t care.

He wrenches the rusted handle downward and drags the door open. Dust and tiny pebbles of concrete rain down on him. On the other side is chaos.

Nur’s Hellform fills the hallway. His howl reverberates across the concrete, rattling all the glass cupboards in the room behind Arsene as he looms over the broken sentinel, his claws raised for a final, deadly swipe.

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