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“I will never get enough of you,” he told her honestly.
“Good because I’m not done with you yet,” she replied with a wicked glint.
That started round number three. Camael thought he was back in heaven when he tasted his witch for the first time. He lost count of the orgasms. It wasn’t until hours later, as dawn painted his room in shades of gold and promise, that Camael finally watched his witch sleep. The sight of her safe in his bed soothed something primal in his soul. Whatever came next - Lucifer, Jeremiel, all of it - they would face it together. Let Heaven and Hell throw whatever they wanted at them. He had his warriors at his back and his witch by his side. That was all he needed. That, and maybe a few more hours of "rest" before they had to face whatever chaos waited outside his door.
CHAPTER 16
Amelia woke to find Camael's massive form curled protectively around her. His white wings created a shelter that blocked out the rest of the world. Memories of their night together brought a flush to her cheeks. The archangel had shown her exactly how much she meant to him. Multiple times. Each touch, each kiss had reinforced the bond between them in ways that went beyond physical.
She should have been asleep after the day she’d had, but something was off. Her magical senses screamed warnings even as her body wanted to sink back into his warmth. The Key at her throat pulsed with urgent energy. Its erratic rhythm was like a distressed heartbeat. Something was wrong in the mansion.
Carefully extracting herself from Camael's embrace, she pulled on one of his shirts. The black fabric fell to mid-thigh. It carried his scent. The unique blend of ozone and male made her knees weak. Her bare feet made no sound on the marble floors as she followed the pull of energy.
The east wing was too quiet. The mansion's halls should have been alive with activity. Dark Warriors should havebeen coordinating patrols. The triplets should have been arguing about battle tactics. And her mate's Angels of Retribution should have been preparing for another day of hunting corrupted grace. Instead, silence pressed against her ears like a physical weight. It was the kind of quiet that made her witch senses scream danger.
"Shit." The curse slipped out as she reached the makeshift dormitory. Empty beds greeted her. Sheets were still rumpled from sleep. There was no sign of a struggle. The wards hummed just below her magical awareness. They hadn’t been breached. They were just gone. At least two dozen fledgling angels had vanished without a trace.
Her phone was already in hand as she dialed Pema's number. The oldest Rowan sister picked up on the first ring. "I was just about to call you," the witch said without preamble. "You feel it too?"
"Yeah. And the fledglings are gone." Amelia's voice was tight as she scanned the room again. "The wards are intact. This had to be an inside job."
"How many are missing?" Pema asked.
"At least twenty-four." Amelia moved between the empty beds, counting quickly. "Maybe more. I need you here. Something about the energy signature is bugging me."
"We're on our way. Don't touch anything." The line went dead as Pema hung up.
Amelia's fingers flew over her phone as she sent rapid-fire texts to the Dark Warriors. She needed to check on the fledglings who were moved from the mansion. Not to mention, they needed eyes on every street and security camera in the city. If those angels were still in New Orleans, she was going to find them.
"What's wrong?" Camael's deep voice rolled through the space like thunder. The archangel filled the doorway. He was battle-ready despite wearing only low-slung jeans. His ice-blue eyes took in the empty room. His expression went granite-hard.
"Someone took the fledglings." She moved to his side, needing his solid presence. "No alarms went off. There’s been no disturbance in the wards. They just... walked out."
A growl that would have made lesser beings spontaneously combust rumbled through his chest. "Jeremiel."
The name hit her like a physical blow. Of course. The evil archangel would know how to bypass their security. He'd helped design some of the protocols himself before going to the dark side. The fucking asshole.
"But how did he get them to go willingly?" she wondered aloud. "These kids know better than to trust him by now."
"He can still appear as he once was,” Camael replied grimly. “He was Heaven's most trusted teacher."
The implications made her stomach turn. Before she could respond, the Rowan sisters arrived in a whirlwind of power and purpose. Pema took one look at the scene and started casting tracking spells while Isis began a methodical sweep for energy signatures. Suvi pulled out crystals that hummed with stored power.
"The residual energy isn’t like what Lucifer has been spreading around town," Isis muttered as she worked. "There’sgraceunderlying this. Although, to my magical senses, it feels like it’s been put through a meat grinder."
Amelia joined the efforts and began casting her own spells. It took a few minutes before something pinged her radar. "There." Her voice carried raw fury as she pointed to traces of darkness that clung to one corner. "It’s archangel energy. From my visit to the archives, I can say it’s Jeremiel's signature. And it's evolved somehow."
Amelia moved to the corner where corrupted energy clung like black ice. Her expanded senses recoiled from the signature. She forced herself to look deeper. The Key at herthroat hummed as she probed the twisted grace. Next to her, Camael went rigid.
"An archangel's fall isn't like a regular angel's," Camael growled in a voice rough with anger. "Our grace runs deeper. Our connection to divinity is more fundamental. When one of us turns, the corruption spreads like poison through our entire essence. It strips away what we are piece by piece. Something vile replaces our pure grace."
His Sword of Light manifested in his hand. "Jeremiel is deliberately accelerating the process of his fall. He’s using the fledglings' grace as a catalyst to speed his transformation. Their untainted essence is the perfect fuel because it hasn't fully formed yet. It's raw power that he can reshape into whatever perverted form he wants."
Ice-blue eyes blazed with fury. "The euphoria hits first. There’s a rush of dark power that feels like freedom. Then comes the hunger. An all-consuming need to consume more and feed the void where divinity used to be. It seems as if Jeremiel's gone beyond that. How far, I can't say."
"Why would he want to deal with a bunch of adolescent angels?” Suvi asked with a frown on her beautiful face.
Understanding hit Amelia like a thunderbolt. "He’s trying to create an army that can be easily guided by his corruption." Her voice shook as the implications sank in. "Think about it. If their grace is still developing, they're malleable. Like clay waiting to be shaped."
