Reaver (47 page)

now that Reaver knew the truth about himself, he understood why he’d been able to conjure a fallen

angel curse. As a Radiant, he possessed both angel and fallen angel powers, so even though he hadn’t

been Raised at the time, the ability had been inside him and released thanks to the
lasher
implants.

Not that the reason for Reaver’s ability to create an ancient assassination symbol meant anything to

Tavin. It wasn’t all bad news, though. According to Harvester, the snake curse had to be programmed

to kill at a specific time.

“No program, no kill,” she’d said. “You should be safe.”

“Bullshit. The fucker
is
trying to kill me,” Tavin ground out.

“That’s because you haven’t made friends with it.”

Tavin swore. “How the fuck am I supposed to make friends with an assassination snake that’s

permanently attached to me?”

“I have no idea,” Harvester said. “Good luck. I have to go get mated now.”

Getting her angel wings back hadn’t changed Harvester’s personality much. And Reaver was fine

with that. She wouldn’t be the same frustrating, bold, sexy angel if it had.

She’d left Tavin to hang out with his brothers, who were all surveying the female guests and

calculating their odds of getting laid.

Too bad Tav was still pissed about the whole “ruining his life” thing, and he’d let Reaver in on that

fact by punching him in the face. The dude hadn’t even cared that Reaver could destroy him with a

mere thought.

Seminus demons were seriously the most obnoxious species of demon
ever
.

Reaver made an attempt to repair the damage he’d done, but it turned out that Metatron was right,

and he couldn’t channel any kind of positive energy into the demon. In fact, when he tried, Tavin had

screamed in agony and the snake had bitten into his throat. Reaver had been forced to fork the serpent

in the eye to make it let go.

Tavin punched Reaver again and muttered something about trying to tame a pissed-off fork-faced

snake.

You couldn’t please some demons.

But Reaver would make it a priority to help the guy. Without him, Reaver never would have been

able to rescue Harvester. They both owed him their lives.

As if she heard his thoughts, Harvester looked over her shoulder at him, her ebony hair cascading

over breasts he couldn’t wait to have all to himself very soon. Maybe now, if the naughty glint in her

eyes was telling him something.

He was about to kidnap her for a quick repeat of the pool incident when Eidolon came over and

clapped him on the shoulder. The clap was followed by a hiss and an abrupt step back.

“Damn,” he said, shaking out his hand. “Angels give me the willies. And you’re an angel on steroids

now. Reaver 2.0.”

“Wraith called me Angelicus Prime. I’m not sure if that’s an insult or not.”

E laughed. “It’s from Wraith and Stewie’s current obsession with the Transformers.”

“Ah.”

Eidolon gazed out at the cast and crew of one of the strangest and most amazing episodes in

Reaver’s life. “It’s kind of crazy how everything has worked out, isn’t it? When I first met you, you

were angling to get your wings back, and I was up to my eyeballs dealing with two brothers who

couldn’t have been more messed up.”

Yeah, Reaver could now relate to the messed up brother thing, and the strangest part was that he

wasn’t reeling in surprise over it. Or over anything Metatron had told him. Once his memories had

been restored and after the initial shock of each memory’s revelation, it was as if they’d always been

with him. As if he’d always known that during the five thousand years Harvester was in Sheoul he’d

been assigned to odd jobs around Heaven. As if he’d always known Harvester liked to swim in the

nude—because he’d spied on her when she was Verrine. As if he’d always known he had a brother.

But where did they go from here? How did he deal with an evil brother who clearly hated him? He’d

have to ask Eidolon how he’d done it someday.

“We’ve come a long way,” Reaver agreed.

“I can’t believe we’re all mated now.” Eidolon grinned, and Reaver went on alert. That was E’s evil

grin. “Which means you have to tattoo my caduceus on your ass.”

Reaver groaned. “You’re going to hold me to that, aren’t you?”

Eidolon shrugged. “Tell you what. Get it anywhere you want. I’m generous that way.” Near the surf,

Tayla held up their son, Sabre, and waved his little hand at Eidolon. E waved back, a fiercely proud

smile on his face. “So… now that you’re all Angelicus Primed, will we still see you?”

Reaver scowled. “Are you taking back your job offer?”

A volleyball came at them, and E batted it back to Wraith and Than, who were having a one-on-one

no one seemed to be winning.

“I assumed you’d have other duties. And angels can’t enter the hospital.”

Reaver grinned. “I can enter anywhere I damned well please. That’s the thing about this Radiant

gig. I can do whatever I want.”

Eidolon raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And what you want is to work at a demon hospital?”

Yeah, Reaver was surprised by that, too. He turned to the doctor, propping his hip against the deck

railing. “When I lost my wings again, I thought I’d be miserable. But the screwed-up thing was that I

was actually kind of relieved.” He’d loved the power that went with being an angel, but not the

regiment. He’d liked the responsibility, but not the rules.

“But when you were fallen the first time, all you wanted was to get your wings back.”

“I did,” he said. “But after I got them back, I realized I missed healing.” He smirked. “Even if it was

demons.”

“Aw, I’ve missed your backhanded compliments,” Eidolon drawled.

Reaver laughed. “So? What do you say? My angel duties are light. I pretty much exist to put down

huge demon problems and counter everything Revenant does, so as long as things stay calm, I’ll need

something to do. I can’t use my powers to heal demons, but I’m a damned good doctor, and you know

it.”

“Fine. Get the tat and report for duty next week.” Eidolon glanced over at Harvester, who had

kicked off her boots and was walking toward them, her gaze locked on Reaver and promising very,

very bad things. “Or, you know, when you’re done with the honeymoon.”

“That might be a while.” Reaver’s focus narrowed on the female coming at him, her stride

purposeful, predatory, and his body hardened. “A long while.”

Unable to stand another second without Harvester, he gave Eidolon a “see ya,” and flashed to her,

scooped her up before she could blink, and flashed them both to the jungle pool. Shifting to wrap her

legs around his waist, she brought her mouth down on his. She kissed him passionately, her tongue

sweeping his mouth and sliding against his, making him groan with need.

“We can go someplace else if you want,” he murmured against her lips.

“Can’t wait.” She rolled her hips against his erection, and he hissed at the intense friction.

“Agreed.” He left her lips to kiss his way to her neck, loving how she arched back to allow him

more access. “We’ve waited too long as it is.” He drew back, pausing things for just a moment,

because this was too important to ignore. “I didn’t realize it, but I’ve been looking for you for five

thousand years.”

Harvester’s eyes shimmered wetly, like dew clinging to meadow grass. “And I’ve been waiting for

you for five thousand years.”

“No more waiting or looking,” he whispered.

“No more,” she agreed. “But there’s still the little matter of our deal.”

“You released me from that.”

“I changed my mind.” She shrugged. “I decided that what we did in Sheoul doesn’t count. I want my

twenty-four hours of pleasure.”

“Do you,” he mused. “Hmm. I guess I can do that. You know, if I have to.”

“You have to.” She playfully dragged her finger down his chest. “And remember how I said I

appreciate a talented tongue?”

Heat flooded him, and it took every ounce of self-control to not drop her to the ground and take her

right that second. “I remember.” His voice was a ragged croak.

“Good. Let’s put that tongue to use.”

Grinning, he dropped her to the ground and did just that. With his new powers.

Yep, this Radiant thing was
very
cool. Reaver couldn’t wait to explore all his new upgrades.

But what he wanted to explore the most was Harvester.

And he had an eternity to do it.

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Revenant

One

Revenant was one fucked-up fallen angel.

No, wait…
angel
. He’d only
believed
he was a fallen angel.

For five thousand fucking years.

But he wasn’t an angel, either. Maybe technically, but how could someone born and raised in

Sheoul, the demon realm some humans called hell, be considered a holy-rolling, shiny-haloed angel?

He might have a halo, but the shine was long gone, tarnished since his first taste of mother’s milk,

mixed with demon blood, when he was only hours old.

Five thousand fucking years
.

It had been two weeks since he’d learned the truth and the memories that had been taken away from

him were returned. Now he remembered everything that had happened over the centuries.

He’d been a bad, bad angel. Or a very, very good fallen angel, depending on how you looked at it.

Toxic anger rushed through his veins as he paced the parking lot outside Underworld General

Hospital. Maybe the doctors inside had some kind of magical drug that could take his memories away

again. Life had been way easier when he’d believed he was pure evil, a fallen angel with no redeeming

qualities.

Okay, he probably still didn’t have any redeeming qualities, but now, what he did have were

conflicted feelings. Questions. A twin brother who couldn’t be more opposite of him.

With a vicious snarl, he strode toward the entrance to the emergency department, determined to find

a certain False Angel doctor he was sure could help him forget the last five thousand years, if only for

a couple of hours.

The sliding glass doors swished open, and the very female he’d come for sauntered out, her blue-

and-yellow-duckie-spotted scrubs clinging to a killer body. Instant lust fired in his loins, and fuck

yeah, screw the drugs, she was exactly what the doctor ordered.

Take her twice and call me in the morning.

He watched her long legs eat up the asphalt as she walked, and he imagined them wrapped around

his waist as he pounded into her. The closer she got, the harder his body got, and he cursed with

disappointment when she dropped her keys and had to stop to pick them up. Then he decided she could

drop her keychain as often as she wanted to, because he got a fucking primo view of her deep cleavage

when her top gaped open as she bent over.

She straightened, looped the keychain around her finger, and started toward him again, humming a

Duran Duran song.

“Blaspheme.” He stepped out from between two black ambulances, blocking her path.

She jumped, a startled gasp escaping full crimson lips made to propel a male to ecstasy.