Jegudiel (Deadly Virtues 2)

Noa’s thoughts were scattered leaves in the wind, and they drifted to Father Auguste. They flew to the Witch Finders as a whole, and then to the meeting the Coven and Fallen had attacked. How badly that could have gone if they had not been aided, she suspected, by Priscilla. They would not have been where they sat now, enjoying one another’s company. They would have been screaming in pain, forced once again into the secret sect’s cloying darkness, into the sheer nothingness a human became under the hand of the Brethren.

Noa’s gut clenched in way she had only ever felt once before—the night she had watched her family be murdered by the Brethren. When her grandmother had been burned at the stake and Noa had been made to watch, a young child being taught that being different meant persecution from those who believed their way of life was the only one.

Auguste wouldn’t hesitate in doing that again. Worse, if he truly got hold of the Fallen, and her sisters … What he would put them through would be unbearable. And Noa couldn’t see that. She couldn’t see these people, these people she knew she loved, brought down in such barbaric ways.

Noa sat straighter in her seat when a sense of knowing swept through her. Noa was stealth itself. She had trained for years to be a force unseen, to walk into people’s homes and steal whatever she needed right from under their noses.

And she was unrivaled at what she did.

Right now, it would be her greatest asset.

Diel chuckled beside her, his deep baritone echoing in his chest. Noa stared at his face. It was love, so deep and pure. That’s what he had given her.

And in return, Noa wanted to give him his sister back. But she didn’t want any of her family—the Fallen included—being hurt in the process. She wasn’t sure she could bear it if more people she loved were lost.

As if Diel sensed her inner turmoil, he looked at her and frowned.

“I’m tired,” Noa said, before he could ask her what was wrong again.

“It’s late.” Gabriel got to his feet. He looked at his brothers. “I expect every one of you at the new children’s home early tomorrow morning to help.” Gabriel smirked, and Noa was taken aback at the rare playfulness in the priest’s face. “Lord knows we all have an eternity of penance to pay. We shall start with this.”

Bara rolled his eyes at Gabriel’s preaching, but held up his wine glass in response. Diel took Noa’s hand and guided her to her feet. Dinah flicked her chin up at her. “We’ll meet in the morning to go through the scouting locations. Okay?”

“Sounds good,” Noa replied, then let Diel lead her up the stairs and into his rooms. Their pace was unhurried, and with every step, Noa felt his presence, a peaceful, calming force. She felt his fingers wrapped around hers, tightly, like he never wanted to let her go.

Noa swallowed back the lump that was rising in her throat. She didn’t want to let go either, and if she did everything correctly, she wouldn’t. But Noa wasn’t naïve. She knew what she was walking into. And she knew that there was a possibility she wouldn’t be walking away.

Her heart skipped a beat at the notion. But when Diel released her hand to shut the door behind them, Noa turned and watched his tall, broad body. She flicked her eyes over the deep scar around his neck. And she recalled him lying on the bed, talking aloud through his regression. She recalled the hitch in his voice whenever he had mentioned Cara. She recalled the devastation on his face when he had awoken and remembered Cara existed. And that she was in his enemy’s camp.

Diel had a sister. And the world wouldn’t be right until they were reunited.

Heart thundering and soul fracturing, Noa planted her feet firmly in place and, without breaking eye contact with Diel, pulled her oversized black sweater over her head, discarding it on the floor. He watched every move she made. His eyes dilated, all pupil, and a flush rushed to his face. His breathing came faster as Noa pulled down her leather leggings and underwear, then slipped off her boots, until she was completely bare before him.

Diel’s hands formed fists at his sides as she moved to where he stood statue-still. Noa’s blood sang with love as she lifted up his shirt and dropped it to the floor. Her soul tremored with contentment as she ran her hand down his solid chest and over the Fallen brand, the rough ridges like silk under her palm.

And her heart played a soft symphony as she unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down to his ankles. She dropped to her knees slowly, kissing the exposed skin of his legs. She brushed her lips over his hips, licking a path from the top of his groin to his muscled V. His breathing stuttered, and he slid his hands into her hair.