chapter 1

Seth wiped the blood off his blade with a charred piece of the Shemyaza’s shirt. The wind ruffled his wings, sending a chill down his spine. That sensation never failed to amaze him, considering his wings were made of power and light. “Is that it? Are there any more of them?”

The Shem were angel-born who had given themselves over to their baser desires, becoming demonic in both appearance and temperament. Like the Nephilim, they had the ability to appear as human as Seth normally did. It was the job of the Nephilim to hunt them down, to keep humanity safe from their depravities. They almost always hunted alone, unable or unwilling to share hunting grounds with one another.

Unfortunately, from time to time Shem had been known to gang up on some poor soul, especially if they knew Nephilim like Seth were in the area.

Damien lifted his face to the wind and closed his dark blue eyes. Light cascaded over his body in rippling, iridescent waves, highlighting his black hair. He opened his eyes, his expression serene, the light fading away to nothing. It always awed Seth to watch him work, that beautiful light show that marked his friend as a Malachi, one of the rarest of the Nephilim. One of his gifts was the ability to sense angel-born within a few miles of his location, a serious advantage when they were hunting. “I think so. I can’t sense anything for miles.”

Seth put his blade in its specially designed over-the-shoulder sheath. The short sword and sheath would be mostly hidden by his T-shirt, completely hidden if he wore a trench coat. “Dante? You can put him out now.”

“Aw, Dad. You never let me have any fun.” The vicious grin on Dante’s face was lit by the burning Shem at his feet. Dante waved a hand and the fire went blue-hot, burning the figure to ash before going out completely. Even the ashes would be cold within seconds. “Speaking of fun, any idea when Piotr will get back into town?”

Of all the Nephilim, Seth was the closest to Piotr, so it made sense that Dante would ask him. They shared a history none of the others would ever understand. He was Piotr’s brother in all but blood, more so than with any of them. “Last I heard, he was in Moscow.”

Damien holstered the gun he’d brought to the fight, hiding it under his trench coat. He had all the necessary concealed-carry permits, something Dante had insisted on for all the Neph who chose to use firearms. “Why is he in Moscow? Isn’t that where the Shemyaza leader is hiding out?”

Seth grinned. He wasn’t touching that one with a ten-foot pole. “Have you ever done one of those random-name-generator things?”

“Oh, here we go,” Dante muttered, dusting Shem ash off his jacket and out of his dirty-blond hair. Seth was glad he didn’t have Dante’s powers. As a Seris, Dante’s power over fire was frightening,

but it came with an equally fiery temperament that often got the detective in trouble with his chief. “We should do one of those and see what our Mafia names should be.”

Dante never took the bait, but Damien—

“Our Mafia names?” Damien made a face as he stepped around the ashy remains of the Shem.

“Yup. You could be Damien the Douche.” Damien bopped Seth on the back of the head. “Seriously. We could call Dante—”

Dante bopped Seth on the back of the head, staggering him. Damn, the bastard’s strong. He forgot sometimes how strong, because Dante would never really hurt one of his Nephilim brothers. “Va all

´inferno, stronzo.”

Damien’s grin was pure evil. “Would you like a translation? I’d be more than happy to give it to you.”

“Knock it off, Boy Scout. If I wanted him to know, I’d have said it in English.”

Seth ignored them both and dismissed his wings, the glowing blue appendages disappearing under his skin. The only mark left behind would be the two blue wing tattoos that covered him from his shoulders to the middle of his thighs, an exact replica of his real wings when furled.

Fuck, it was chilly. Being an Angelus was a pain in the ass sometimes. Having to go shirtless on a night like this sucked donkey balls, but the one time he’d tried to leave the shirt on, his wings had gotten stuck.

That? Had hurt like hell.

“Seriously. You guys need to chill the fuck out. Like Piotr wants anything to do with Ivan the Terrible.” Seth shivered hard. Damn, it was cold now that Dante’s fire had gone out. He pulled the T- shirt he’d tucked into his back pocket out and tugged it on, grateful for the hint of warmth.

Unfortunately, the two Nephilim who disliked Piotr the most were Dante and Damien. If only they knew how little Piotr wanted to have to do with Ivan Ilyanovich Romanov, they’d shit purple kittens. Seth wished they’d come to understand the true nature of the man, rather than fearing the beast that lived within him.

“Hmm. Sounds fishy.” Damien glared at Seth. “You know what he’s doing there.”

“If you think I’m telling you what Piotr’s doing in Moscow under Gabriel’s orders, you’re off your rocker.” Seth wasn’t that stupid. Piotr or no, if Gabriel wanted Damien and Dante to know what one of his Neph was doing, he’d tell them.

Damien grimaced. “Oh.”

“The Boy Scout has a point, though. I might trust Piotr more if he attended the company picnics.” Dante, ever the watchful cop, stepped out of the alleyway and glanced around. He nodded the all clear to Seth and Damien before resuming his walk to their cars. “He doesn’t show up at Gabriel’s very often.”

God, Seth was so over this. “He’s a bazillionaire. He’s a little busy running his empire and offing Shemyaza. Cut the guy a break.”

“I get it. You care about the icy son of a bitch. But I’ll tell you this much, unless Piotr steps up and

really becomes one of us, he’ll never truly be my brother.” Dante climbed into his car.

Damien shook his head at Seth. “I agree with Dante. It’s a dangerous game Piotr’s playing. One of these days he’s going to slip up, and then we’ll know for sure which side of the fence he’s been sitting on all along.”

Dante rolled down his window. “We worry about you, asshole. See you at Gabriel’s tomorrow?” “I’ll be there. And love you guys too.”

Dante drove off with a quick wave. His sedate, tan-colored cop’s sedan was a horrendous mismatch for the man inside. He honked the horn twice as he turned the corner, giving them the green

light to move out. “Seth?”

Seth pinched the bridge of his nose. “Piotr is on our side, Damien. Do you honestly think he could fool Gabriel, of all people?”

Damien closed his eyes, the faint shimmer of his power dancing along his skin. “Gabriel has his own blind spots, but I don’t. And there’s something Piotr is hiding. Something dangerous.” Damien opened his eyes, their luminescence brilliant even under the streetlights. “I intend to find out what.” He patted Seth’s shoulder. “Try not to get caught in the crossfire. You’re the only reason Dante and I have tolerated him for this long.” He headed for his own car, a tricked-out, metallic-black roadster that cost more than Seth made in a year. “Stay safe, my brother.”

“You too, my brother,” Seth muttered as Damien drove off, honking twice as he rounded the corner toward his own home. “Shit. Now I have to get Gabriel to call off the Double Trouble Team.” If they messed up Piotr’s mission, his brother’s life would be in danger. If they had any idea the risks Piotr took to keep the rest of them safe, they’d be singing a different tune. Unfortunately, that wasn’t his tale to tell.

Seth crawled into his car, exhausted beyond belief, and glanced at his watch. He swore under his breath, pulling out into the quiet street. He should have listened to Gabriel and let Dante and Damien hunt without him tonight, but he’d been determined to find out if the Shem they were hunting knew anything about Abby.

Unfortunately, Damien’s intel had been right. The Shem had been hired to hunt down Abby, but not to harm her, something that sent a hard shiver down his spine. Why would a Shem want a human like Abby Marcheson for anything more than food? As far as he could tell, she had nothing to do with their world.

But the dead Shem had known more than Seth was comfortable with, and less than he’d hoped. He’d known where she lived. For that alone, Seth would have killed him.

Worse, he’d been a tough kill, nailing Dante in the arm with his claws and almost taking Damien’s head. Rafe would be more than willing to heal Dante. Too bad the stubborn bastard would never drive his ugly, putty-colored car to Gabriel’s for what he considered to be a minor wound.

Seth snorted. Yeah. Dante was going to be sore tomorrow.

Seth pulled up in front of his town house, ready to drop from exhaustion. He wasn’t even certain he had the energy left to order a pizza, and hunger was the only thing keeping him on his feet. He shuffled past Abby’s door.

Abby’s windows were open. The aroma of burritos wafted out to him, his stomach immediately growling.

As good as those burritos smelled, and God, they smelled amazing, she shouldn’t have had her windows open. She didn’t know that she was being targeted. She had no reason to believe she should stay behind locked doors and closed windows.

Damn it. He was so fucking tired. But he’d promised Bill, his closest human friend, that he would watch over the man’s baby sister when she moved two doors down from him.

He sighed. So far, he was doing a bang-up job of it.

Not. He headed for his own town house. He was too tired tonight to keep an eye on Abby. He’d contact one of his brothers, have him watch while Seth slept. Micah would do it, if only because Seth would then owe him one.

He managed to get into his town house without falling flat on his face. He did wind up crawling up the stairs and into his bedroom. Kicking off his shoes, he crawled onto the bed and pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

“Hey, Seth. Need me to guard your girl for you?” Micah’s deep, serene voice flowed over him. If anyone could keep Abby safe, it was Micah.

Seth smiled. “I’d appreciate it, thanks.” “No problem. Rough night?”

“Yeah. Damien’s intel panned out. The son of a bitch was hired to find Abby.” Without Damien’s unique abilities, Seth wouldn’t even have known she was in trouble until it was too late. The name Marcheson had shown up on one of Damien’s computer-generated alarms. When he realized it was the little sister of Bill Marcheson, Dante’s coworker and Seth’s friend, he’d immediately contacted Seth.

Someone had done a thorough search on her, using paths open only to the Shem and the Nephilim, dark magics and light, mixed with modern technology that no human could have performed. If Damien hadn’t found the traces of the search, hadn’t insisted on hunting down the Shem who’d initiated it, they might have already lost her to a Shem’s hunger.

Seth didn’t even want to think about that. There was something sweet and innocent about Abby, something that hadn’t dimmed as she went from gawky teenager to pretty, shy woman. Seth would hate to see that light of hers go out, snuffed by a Shem bastard.

Gabriel had agreed to allow Seth, as a friend of the family, to officially guard Abby while the rest of the Neph did what they did best.

Hunt Shemyaza.

“Shit. I’m on my way.”

“Stay safe, my brother.” Seth’s hands were beginning to shake. Fuck the pizza. He was going to sleep. He’d hit Waffle House in the morning or something.

“Stay safe, my brother.” Micah hung up, probably already on his way. An Angelus like Seth, Micah would fly to her home, invisible, and guard her until morning.

But Seth found sleep elusive. The Shem they’d killed tonight hadn’t known why he’d been hired. He hadn’t known anything other than someone was after her, that someone might want more than her blood. Now Gabriel wanted them at the mansion. The leader of the Nephilim was making it official.

Sweet little Abby Marcheson was on a Shem’s hit list, and not one of them knew why.

* * *

“You know, he’s perfect for you.” Trish was smiling as she followed Abby into the kitchen.

“Mmm-hmm,” Abby mumbled. For God’s sake, she had to get a grip. She was completely insane. Just because she’d caught a glimpse of Seth, waved at him, she was acting like some stupid Twilight fangirl, all ready to squee and pass out at his feet.

Man, she had it bad. One friendly smile, one glimpse of those blue-gray eyes, and she was ready to have his babies. After everything she’d been through, she should have been off men for life, but no.

Something about Seth just...made her feel safe. Abby never felt completely safe.

It was weird.

Problem was, Seth was always polite, always had a smile for her, but that was it. He had never

once approached her without Bill or Trish tagging along behind him. He was funny, articulate, handsome and kind. She was surprised he hadn’t been snapped up yet. Were the women where he worked deaf, dumb and blind?

She put down the bag and pulled out the coffee mugs. She set up the coffeemaker and pressed start, eager to change the subject. “Coffee okay?”

“Ew, coffee? How about chamomile tea?”

Abby turned and stared at Trish. “Funny, you don’t look like a pod person.” “Okay, you got me. Give me the good stuff.”

Abby shook her head and prepped the two cups. She put barely a hint of sugar into Trish’s cup, but she poured a ton of cream and sugar into her own. Her friends and family often teased her about her coffee-drinking habits. Bill told people that she only added the coffee for color.

“I don’t know why he doesn’t see it.” Trish took her mug with a nod of thanks, groaning at the first taste.

“Who?” Abby sipped her coffee slowly, sitting down at the dark-stained, artistically distressed kitchen table. She’d had a crush on Seth van Licht since her high school days, when he’d been in college with Bill. She’d thought, once, that she found a man to make her forget Seth, but she’d been wrong on so many levels.

“I mean, it’s not like he dates much. Just last week, Bill tried to set him up with a nice girl who works clerical over at the precinct, and he wasn’t interested.” Trish took a sip from her mug and reached for one of the pan dulce pastries Abby had pulled out of the oven just before the grocery trip. They weren’t warm, but they were still good, and Trish smiled her appreciation around a bite.

“Mmm-hmm.” Abby stared down into her coffee cup. Who had he been dating back then? Flora, Finola... No. Fiona. That had been her name. Some Icelandic-looking goddess who’d swept him off his feet. Abby had only met her once, but she’d been devoted to Seth, and Seth to her. Abby had shrugged, her heart only slightly torn, and moved on, hearing about Seth’s wedding after the fact. He’d been Bill’s friend, not hers. She’d just been the annoying little sister.

But...his smile, the one he directed only at her, hadn’t changed. Not one tiny bit. “By the way, I told Bill to stop trying to fix his love life, because that’s my job.”

Abby nodded. “Mmm-hmm.” She stirred her coffee in a desultory way, barely listening. She’d heard about Fiona’s funeral after the fact, too. Cancer, Bill had said, but he hadn’t told her what type. Abby had still been too wounded to do much, but she’d managed to send a card. Seth hadn’t responded, but then Bill later told her that Seth had been barely human after Fiona’s death.

“Then I told him that I wanted to watch while he swallowed live goldfish.”

“Mmm—what? Oh. Sorry.” Abby grinned at her sister-in-law sheepishly, trying to shake off her preoccupation. “What were you saying?”

Trish snapped her fingers under Abby’s nose. “Pay attention. We’re talking about Mr. Hunka-hunka, remember?” Trish batted her lashes. “Oh, Trish, whatevah shall I do? I will simply die without him.

Die, I say.” Trish dropped her head onto her arms and pretended to sob.

Abby bopped her on the head with the hairstyle magazine she’d been browsing over breakfast. “I don’t have it that bad.”

“Bull. He’s the only thing besides your job you think about these days. And, I must add, it’s about time you showed interest in another man. Doug doesn’t deserve another second of your tears or your fears.”

Ugh. Doug. Her first—and last—taste of romance.

At least her therapist would be pleased that she was interested in another man. Abby wasn’t so sure.

Hell, maybe it was the right time to learn to trust again. The family knew him, even if she barely did.

“Oh, my God, Abby! Seth’s naked outside your window!”

Abby twisted in her chair halfway toward the window before she realized Trish was pulling her leg. Abby’s head thudded down on the table. Ow. That’s going to leave a mark.

Trish sighed. “You’ve got it bad, hon.”

She lifted her head and let Trish see all the longing she usually kept buried inside. “Yeah. I know.” “This is a good thing. You haven’t dated at all in five years.”

“I haven’t wanted anyone in five years.” Trish shot her a knowing glance. “Except for Seth.”

Abby grimaced. “Fat lot of good that’s done me. At least I no longer shake when I see him.”

“You do, but for good reasons.” Trish laughed as Abby hit her on the head with the magazine again. “Seth’s a good man. Bill thinks the world of him. If you’re going to start dating someone, Seth is one of the few my husband won’t throw a fit over.”

Abby glared as some of the things Trish had said filtered through her I saw Seth haze. “Wait a minute. You talked this over with Bill?”

“Duh. You think I’m not going to tell him that not only do you like Seth, but you’re not afraid of Seth either?”

Abby whimpered. “I can’t believe you talked to Bill about this.”

Trish waved her hand impatiently. “None of that matters. What does is, what do you want to do about it?”

Abby took a sip of her coffee and came to a decision. “I’m willing to try, but I don’t even know if he’s interested.”

“He’s male. If he finds out you’re interested, trust me, he will be too.” Abby grinned. “Men aren’t that bad.”

“Oh, really?” Abby flushed at the knowing tone in Trish’s voice. “You want to know if he wants you? Walk up to him, bat those baby browns at him and take off your shirt. If he’s not interested, he’s gay.”

“I want him interested in me, not my boobs. Dork.” If she was going to try and win Seth’s heart, she needed to make sure he wanted the woman, not the body.

“I hate to tell you this, but the boobs are the lure you use to hook your man. Then you reel him in with your sparkling wit and keep him with your cooking.”

“Sparkling wit?” Abby’s laugh was bittersweet. “I lie awake at night and think of things I should have said to him. I want to scream, because every time I see him, I freeze up. I can’t talk to him. Hell, I have trouble looking at him. What if I’m wrong again? Let’s face it, my taste in men sucks.” She sighed roughly. She had to get over this. She had to. If she didn’t, Doug won.

“Doug hurt you badly, but it wasn’t your fault. He was a sick bastard, and I hope to God he’s getting his ass reamed on a daily basis by some big guy named Bluto or Bubba.” Trish’s eyes lit up. “Oh! How about a tag team? And I hope they forget the lube.”

Abby shook her head. “You’re nuts.”

“And right. You didn’t do anything wrong, Abby. He did.”

“Yeah.” And it had taken a lot of therapy to get her to see that. “But I still freeze up and can’t think straight when Seth is near me. Then he leaves, and it’s too late. I wasn’t exactly Ms. Popular in school, Trish. I was always shy and tongue-tied around guys. Doug just made it worse.”

“You’re not like that with people you know.” Trish put her hand on Abby’s. “With us you’re the crazy nut we know and love.” Trish leaned back in her chair, a speculative gleam in her eye. “Maybe that’s the key. What if I told you he’s interested in friendship, but nothing more? Would you feel comfortable talking to him then?”

Abby got up and started putting away the groceries. “I don’t know.” She paused, her can of corn halfway to the shelf. “God, I’m back in high school, aren’t I? Would you do me a favor and pass him a note during study hall?”

“Hmm.” Trish covered her smile with her cup. “I could post ‘Abby likes Seth’ to his Facebook page.”

Damn it. Trish would do it, too. “Are you for real??”

Trish put her hands up in the air. “Hey, I’ll leave the poking to you.” Abby threw a dish towel at Trish’s head.

“If it makes you feel any better, Bill threatened to cut off my purse allowance if I screw this up for you. He really likes Seth.”

Abby grinned. Trish’s obsession with handbags was well known. “Big brother getting all protective again?”

“Yes, well, you know when Bill puts his foot down, I’m not about to argue with him. Unless he’s wrong, of course. But that’s different.”

“Of course.” Abby grinned at her sister-in-law. Trish had Bill wrapped around her pinky finger, and she knew it. So did Bill, who didn’t seem to mind one bit. He adored his tiny, crazy spouse.

Abby made a sudden decision. The right decision, she hoped, pressing a hand to her fluttering stomach. She was about to jump into the deep end, and the thought both scared the shit out of her and made her feel strangely free. “All right. What do I have to do?”

Trish punched the air. “Yes. Invite us to dinner, and I’ll explain it to you then.” “That’s it?” It couldn’t be that easy. Not when Trish was involved.

“That’s it.”

Abby shook her head, smiling, but agreed. She had no idea what Trish was up to, but she had to do something about these feelings for Seth soon or she would go bat-shit insane.

* * *

“Okay, why am I out here freezing my nuts off? What’s with all the secrecy and the muffin bribe?” Seth handed Trish the Dunkin’ Donuts cup and one of the two bags he carried. He sat on the park bench, feeling remarkably like a would-be spy. He had half an hour before he had to be at Gabriel’s for the mandatory meeting on Abby, and he didn’t want to be late.

“We’re on.”

Seth blinked at his best friend’s wife and wondered if he was hearing things right. “We’re what?” “Pay attention, Seth. We’re on, big guy.” Trish bumped him with her elbow, nearly sending him

flying off his seat.

That did not sound good. What the hell was she up to now? “Does Bill know about this, and if so, how much time to I have to pack and get out of town?”

Trish threw her head back and laughed. “Not on a bet, big guy. But I did get you an in with a certain redhead.” She stirred her coffee and grinned up at him. “How do you feel about Mexican food?”

Seth’s jaw dropped open. No. She couldn’t have. Wait, no. This was Trish.

Shit.

He’d let slip to Bill that he was possibly interested in Abby, hoping to sound his friend out. While he and Bill had a good relationship and always had, they were talking about the man’s little sister.

Seth fully expected to get at least a punch in the arm, maybe even a warning of dire, dick-threatening consequences, if he so much as imagined Abby naked before permission was granted.

But instead of the friendly, man-to-man chest beating he’d expected from the big, overprotective cop, he’d gotten a warm smile and mild warning: Don’t hurt Abby.

Pfft. As if. Seth would sooner cut off his wings.

Now Bill’s crazy blonde wife was hatching one of her insane schemes. He loved Trish, he truly did, but the woman was a menace. He narrowed his eyes and used his most intimidating voice. “What did you do?”

“Got us an invitation to dinner.” She held her hand up, palm toward him, and waited for his high five, which didn’t come. She was not the tiniest bit intimidated by his death glare, damn it.

“How?” And how crazy was he, that he was beginning to see a bright side to this?

“She’s my sister-in-law. I know what buttons to push, and she’s got the hots for you bad, so don’t mess this up. I’d hate to clean up all that blood after Bill got done with you.”

He absently high-fived her, knowing she’d leave her hand there until doomsday if he didn’t. “You’re sure she wants me? Because she has a strange way of showing it.”

“Trust me.” Trish took a sip of her coffee with a smug grin. “I’ve got you in the front door. It’s up to you to bring it on home.”

“I’ll do my best.” He clinked his Styrofoam cup to hers, toasting the fact that Abby might interested in more than shy smiles and soft glances.

He tried not to think how pleased Gabriel would be that he was getting close to his charge. Or how pissed Gabriel would be if he knew that this was way more than just a job to him.

“Just...be gentle with her.” The unusually serious tone of her voice got his full attention. “She’s been hurt a lot. The only reason I went ahead and set this up is because I know you almost as well as Abby. You’d sooner cut off your left nut than hurt a woman, but it might take her a little time to realize that.”

He already knew what had happened to Abby, but he decided to play along, see what Trish would tell him. The simple online searches Seth had done had given him pause. Abby was probably the strongest woman he’d ever met, to have survived what she had. His respect for her had grown after reading article after article about the fire and the toll it had taken on her family. No one should have to suffer what they had. Whatever it took to protect Abby from the Shem hunting her, he would do, and not just because of the assignment or Bill’s friendship. “What happened to her?”

When Abby had been in the hospital recovering from her burns, Seth had been too busy dealing with Fiona’s illness and its aftermath to think much of it. It was only when he’d surfaced from the

grief that he remembered Abby had been hurt, and by that time the family had clamped their lips shut. No one spoke about it, and they’d asked him, as a friend, to let it go. He’d obeyed, out of respect for Bill if nothing else, but he’d asked Damien to look into things for him on the supernatural side of the equation just in case.

“Let her tell you when she’s ready. Trust me, Seth. If she tells you about that, then she’ll have definitely opened up to you. It will be worth the wait. There’s more to the news stories than what was put out there.”

What could he say to that? Trish and Abby were close, understood each other well. He’d keep silent, for now. So he nodded. “When, where, and what should I bring?”

“Tonight, Abby’s place, and your inherently sexy self. Oh, and a tight pair of jeans wouldn’t hurt either.” She winked at him and stood. “Now get back to work, you lazy bum.” She began walking away, opening up the Dunkin’ Donuts bag. “Ooh, blueberry. Yum.”

Seth laughed. He couldn’t help it. She was crazy, but she was a good kind of crazy.

Seth headed out for his meeting with Gabriel, well aware that they had little to nothing to go on beyond Damien’s research and one Shem’s admission that he’d been paid to watch Abigail Marcheson, but not harm her.

He slipped into the shadows between two buildings and took off his coat and shirt. He allowed his true nature to take over, his wings glowing brightly before he slipped into invisibility. A Shem or a fellow Neph would be able to sense him if they tried hard enough, but he was completely masked to human senses, not even the glow of his wings lighting the walls of the alley. He spread his wings, the joy of flying free tainted by the knowledge that someone he knew, someone he cared about, was a target for his enemies.

He landed on Gabriel’s lawn five minutes late. He quickly folded away his wings and threw on his shirt as he dashed toward the door. Gabriel hated it when—

“You’re late.”

He winced as the leader of all the Nephilim, Gabriel Viator, turned to him, his strange, violet eyes brimming with frustration. “Sorry. I was speaking with Trish.”

“Bill’s wife? Then you were lucky to get out alive.” Dante’s expression was wicked. “She’s a firecracker.”

Damien snorted and clicked his mouse. Unless they were hunting or the man was on a hot date, he had his nose stuck to a computer screen. “She’s insane.”

“Oh? That explains why you asked her out in college.” Damien rolled his eyes. “Asshole.”

“Testa di cazzo.”

Damien glared at Dante, who grinned and gave him the finger. But their antics distracted Gabriel, who sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Children.”

The two settled down, Damien returning to his computer and Dante to staring out the window. “Seth.”

He winced. That intense regard could be disconcerting, especially when Gabriel was displeased with you. His mother said his name in that exact tone whenever he’d done something wrong. “Yes, sir?”

“Any news?”

The Double Trouble Team shared a glance, then Dante gave Seth a thumbs-up. “Go for it.”

Go for what? “Ah. The Shem we hunted last night said he’d been paid to find Abby, but he refused to name his employer. He also told us his job was to watch, not harm.”

Gabriel nodded, the displeasure turning back to Dante and Damien. “And you couldn’t tell me this?”

Dante shrugged. “It’s Seth’s assignment.”

“We wanted him here before we gave you the update.” Damien didn’t even look up from his computer screen, but Seth could see the guilty flush working its way across his cheeks.

“Thanks, guys. I’m touched. Really. And just so you know, you’re both dickheads.” Dante had called them all testa di cazzo enough times that they all knew what it meant.

Dante chuckled. “Yeah, we know, but we’re your dickheads.” “God help us all.”

Seth laughed at Gabriel’s quiet mutter. The angel didn’t make jokes often, so it was surprising when he did.

“Seth, you’re in a prime position to guard Abby. Consider that your assignment. Focus on keeping her from harm, and let the others do the investigating.” Seth nodded, and those violet eyes turned on Damien, who suddenly lost all interest in his computer. “Find out who the employer was, and barring that, find out why a Shem would be interested in not immediately feeding off a human. There’s some kind of payment trail—money, blood, souls. Find it and follow it.”

Shemyaza fed off of humans, hunted them for blood, emotions. Souls. If a Shem was hunting Abby, then it wasn’t because of her big, amber-colored eyes or her pretty red hair.

The Shem would devour her, destroy her. And the Neph existed to stop them. Damien nodded once. It was as good as done.

“Dante.”

Dante practically saluted.

“Find out if anyone in Abby’s family has had dealings with the Shem. It’s possible she’s a pawn in a larger game, which is why she’s under watch. Damien can assist you if it goes back further than a generation or two. Maybe there’s a connection that we’re missing.”

“Yes, sir.”

Damien glanced up from his computer screen. “Do you think this has anything to do with her psycho ex?”

Seth grimaced. Just the thought of what Abby had suffered through was enough to make him want to growl. “I have no idea, but it’s worth checking out. We need to find out if Douglas Finley is a Shem or not. If so, his ass is currently in jail. That might be why he hired someone to follow her.”

Dante nodded once, crisply. “I’m on it.”

Seth tilted his head. It was oddly quiet in the mansion. Half of Gabriel’s cell, the Neph that guarded the state of Delaware, lived in Gabriel’s compound, their hunt for the Shem their full-time jobs. Only Seth, Piotr, Damien and Dante had chosen to live apart, and their brothers had never understood it.

Still, it was odd not to have Rafe, Sasha, Zeke or Micah underfoot. “Gabriel? Where is everyone else?”

Gabriel froze for just a second. “Out on assignment.”

Okay. Seth knew better than to push. Gabriel would tell them what was going on when he was ready, and not before.

Those violet eyes met his. “Keep her safe, but remember. Our first priority is the Shemyaza. Do

what you must.”

Seth lowered his eyes so Gabriel wouldn’t see the lie in them. “Yes, sir.”

* * *

Abby opened the front door with a greeting that barely passed her lips.

Seth was standing right behind Trish, looking so yummy she almost drooled.

“Are you going to let us in? It’s freezing out here.” Bill elbowed his way past her, his sense of big- brother privilege kicking in.

“Abby, you remember I invited Seth tonight, right?” Trish elbowed her in the stomach in a move so subtle, it could be seen from orbit.

“Sure I do.” Not. She darted a quick glance at Trish, who looked like she was trying very hard to hold back her laugh. She considered strangling her sister-in-law on the spot, but decided not to. Bill might miss her.

She opened the door wider. “Come on in. Dinner will be ready soon.” She smiled at the group in general as they filed in. She cleared her throat, hoping to dislodge the daddy of all bullfrogs currently sitting right in the middle.

Lord, have mercy. Seth wore a tight pair of blue jeans designed solely to showcase his incredible ass. The soft gray button-up hugged his chest and abs, highlighting the gray in his eyes. She managed to notice all of that in a lightning-quick glance, too terrified to keep her eyes on him for longer than a few seconds.

She ushered him in and hoped she wasn’t about to make a complete fool of herself. If she survived tonight, she’d decide whether or not Trish got to live to see morning.

“So, what’s for dinner?” Trish asked. She gave Abby a thumbs-up when Seth’s back was turned.

Abby did her best to ignore the insane woman. Trish was one of those people who got an idea in her head and immediately acted on it. It had gotten her into trouble more than once, but her heart was in the right place, and she rarely did something to deliberately hurt someone. This time was no exception. “Fajitas. Chicken and steak.”

Abby handed around four glasses of sangria, smiling as Seth took a cautious sip. His brows rose in pleasant surprise before he took another, bigger sip.

Dear God, she hoped her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

“I’m stunned. You? Making Mexican? Say it ain’t so.” Bill laughed as Abby blew him a raspberry. “What was it you made last time?”

Abby picked up her glass, took a sip and smiled at him. “Shrimp enchiladas.”

“Oh, yeah. Shrimp. My least favorite food in the entire world, next to liver and onions.”

Abby toyed with the stem of her glass, watching the light play in the red wine, and shrugged. Her hands were shaking, but focusing on teasing her brother instead of drooling over Seth was helping. “Give me some salsa, a little cheese, liver, onions and taco shells, and I think you’ve got a meal.”

Bill shuddered. “Ugh. Don’t even try it.”

Abby batted her lashes at her brother. “Would I be that mean?” “Yes.”

Trish laughed as Bill gagged dramatically. “Now you have to make them.” Bill glared over at his wife. “I hate you, woman.”

Trish made kissy faces at her husband, who pulled her into his arms and clamped a hand over her mouth. “You make me liver and onions and I’ll tell Mom about those Playgirls you hid when you were fifteen.”

Abby snorted. Now she was certain her face was beet red. “Please. Like Mom doesn’t know about that.”

Seth coughed. “Bill, you shouldn’t blackmail your sister.”

Trish squirmed free of her husband’s hold. “Yeah, you shouldn’t blackmail your sister.” “Especially since you told me where you hid your Playboys when you were fifteen.” Seth winked

at Abby over the rim of his glass.

“Busted.” Abby snickered behind her hand.

“Totally.” Seth held out his glass, and Abby clicked hers against it. A tingly feeling rushed through her at the warmth in his expression.

She’d never have guessed that she’d bond with her dream man over nudie magazines, but hey, whatever worked. She led the way into the kitchen, curious to find out what kind of bonding could occur over fajitas.

* * *

Huh. This was his first visit to her home, and her town house wasn’t anything like what he’d anticipated. He’d expected cool and serene, not the chaotic, rich colors that dominated Abby’s living room and kitchen. Her home showed a warm, inviting woman lived within it, and he liked what he saw.

The rust-colored sofa and cream oversize armchairs were complemented by the walnut coffee table with its top of broken, brightly colored mosaic tiles. The walls were painted an amber color that reflected the light of the pierced tin lamps that were hung all over the room, the rich walnut moldings accenting the golden tones. Above her small fireplace was a painting of a Mexican fiesta, all night shadows, bright colors and gleaming lanterns. Her kitchen was equally warm with rust-and-amber- striped fabrics on the chairs, amber walls and Mexican-style pottery lined up on top of the dark cabinets. The slate tile blended seamlessly in with the café-au-lait-colored carpet. Little touches of turquoise and aqua were the only cool spots in the entire town house. It was nothing like the pale blue and white decor that Fiona had preferred. When he tried to picture Abby in his home, he found he couldn’t do it.

All in all, fire seemed to suit Abby much better than ice.

She was certainly igniting a fire in him. That soft, green T-shirt of hers was hugging her curves. Her jeans showcased slender legs and a to-die-for ass. Even her hair, normally pinned up in a sloppy bun or pulled back in a sleek ponytail, was down around her shoulders, a mass of fire he longed to bury his hands in.

He was so screwed. “Seth?”

“Hmm?” Someone had asked him a question that didn’t involve sinfully tight jeans. He mentally scrolled back. It was something about his day job as an architect. Because of his status as a Nephilim, he’d needed a job where he could set his own hours. He loved designing, so he’d become a freelance architect. “Oh, right. The Benning project. So far, so good. All of the contractors are on time for a

change. No major disasters, lots of minor ones, business as usual. Although I have to admit it’s the first time I’ve been asked to design around a griffin.”

“A griffin?” Abby appeared curious, her eyes sparkling with humor.

“Don’t ask. I’m still not sure I understand it myself. Finding stonework with feathers in it is giving me hives. What about you, Abby? How was work?” Abby worked for a salon named Mane Frame.

She grinned at him, as easy and relaxed as she hadn’t been when he’d first arrived. He’d seen the way her hands shook, the way her cheeks flamed. But he could also see the quirky, cute woman inside the shy shell, the one who teased her brother about liver-and-onion tacos. That was the woman he wanted to bring out, the one he desperately wanted to get to know better.

“We had this one woman come in today, you know the ones who bring in a picture of Paris Hilton and ask me to make them look just like her? Except I’m a beautician, not a magician, and this woman was ancient. Blond hair would have been awful with her skin tone, and the cut! Oh, man, it would have been awful. She would have resembled a shar-pei with Barbie hair. Anyway, we’re supposed to steer clients away from anything that makes them look asstastic, but she refused to listen, and after a while she started sounding like a yappy dog...”

So far, so good. Her smiles were coming easier, her laughter more free as she relaxed in the presence of her family. He’d even managed to make eye contact, her gorgeous amber-colored eyes spearing into him.

It had been a while since a single glance from a woman took his breath away.

Seth’s smile became wider the longer Abby talked. She was animated as she described her interaction with her various clients and her temperamental boss, Nancy. He watched the play of emotions across her face, thrilled when her warm grin was turned on him. Her arms waved, nearly knocking over his glass, but he managed to grab it before it spilled. She smiled an apology and continued talking.

He even managed not to freeze up at the sight of burn scars on her right arm. He exchanged a glance with Bill, who shook his head with a slight scowl. The burns were off limits.

For now.

He’d have to make sure Bill understood that to Seth, those scars were badges of bravery. She’d survived. Hell, she’d thrived. They merely enhanced her beauty, not diminished it.

She was also a good cook. The fajitas had been done to perfection, the chicken spicy, the rice just right. The wine and the good food created a relaxed atmosphere, and Seth got to see Abby at her most vibrant. He hadn’t seen her this at ease since she was in high school, when she’d been his friend’s awkward little sister.

It was wonderful to see it now. Seth kept quiet, and simply enjoyed the show.

* * *

“So, what’s for dessert?” Bill asked.

Abby smiled over the hot oil, adding another triangle of dough. “Homemade sopaipillas. Hope you guys like honey or strawberries, because I forgot to pick up chocolate.”

“Heathen.” Trish got out the honey and the strawberry puree, more than familiar with Abby’s kitchen. “How could you forget chocolate, of all things?”

“After the attack of the shar-pei Barbie, you’re lucky I remembered you were coming over.” Abby

shuddered. “I’m going to have nightmares for a week.” “Woof.”

Abby maneuvered the hot sopaipillas onto a plate. She took them to the table, sprinkled them lightly with confectioner’s sugar, and everyone dug in. The only sound to break the silence was “Mmm,” warming Abby’s heart.

After dinner, Abby brought out the cards and the popcorn. They always had popcorn on hand when they played cards—mostly because Abby had banned Nerf guns. “Anyone want to play canasta?”

Trish cleared the kitchen table as Bill grabbed a pad and pencil. Seth raised a brow. “Canasta? What’s that?”

Trish was standing behind Seth, waving her hands madly.

Subtle, Trish. Very subtle. Abby took the hint. If she was going to try and get closer to him, she had to make a move. She grinned at Seth, knowing it was a pale imitation of her earlier easy smiles. I hope I don’t look like I have gas.

“It’s kind of like rummy, but to win you need make something called melds out of sets of seven cards. Jokers are wild, but you make more points if the meld is pure and doesn’t contain them. And you can make a meld off your partner’s cards.” She had to admit, Trish’s idea of having him come to dinner with them had worked out brilliantly. She’d been able to relax in a way she wouldn’t have been able to on a date.

The confusion on his face was absolutely adorable. How could such a masculine guy appear so...cuddleworthy?

As Bill began to shuffle the cards she shifted so that she was seated across from Seth. “It’s okay.

I’ll teach you how to play.” Which was probably Trish’s plan all along.

Bill snickered. “Wait until we break out the cribbage board. Then it’s every man for himself.” “Yup.” Trish took the seat across from Bill, smirking at her husband. “He’s gonna be so happy to

have someone else join him in his lonely loserhood.” “I don’t lose that badly.”

Her fingers on her forehead in the shape of an L, Trish began to sing. “L is for loser, that’s good enough for me.”

Bill threw popcorn at her head.

Seth chuckled as Trish returned fire. “I’m not very good at card games. I’m a lot better at board games. I really kick ass at Clue.”

“That’s okay.” She patted his hand, startling herself. It was the first time she’d voluntarily touched a male who wasn’t family, and she felt fine. No fear, no anxiety. It was nice. She resisted the urge to caress his fingers. Okay, better than nice. His hand was lean, but strong. “We’ll take pity on you.”

“I’m not that bad. Really.” He patted her shoulder, and she had no desire to shrug off his touch.

Maybe a relationship with someone like Seth was possible after all. “It’s just a card game. How hard can it be?”

She shook her head and proceeded to teach him the rules of the game. They were going to get creamed, and she couldn’t care less.

An hour and a half later, they conceded defeat to Trish and Bill. The other couple had wiped the floor with them. They had made more inroads into the wine, and Abby decided to blame the wine rather than admit that it was the sight of her partner that kept distracting her. He leaned back in his chair and smiled ruefully. “Next time we’re going to kick your asses.”

“Hell, yeah.” Seth toasted the other couple. “Because next time we’re playing Clue.”

Abby was still giggling as she walked him to the door, Trish and Bill not far behind them. “Seth?” “Hmm?” He was shaking his head at something Bill or Trish was doing behind her.

Abby ignored them. She was used to the antics of her brother and sister-in-law. “You’re welcome to come again, if you’d like.”

His gaze snapped to her face, the blue gray of his eyes darkening, turning pure blue, yet they were far from cold. “I’d like that.”

She could feel her cheeks flushing. “Me too.”

She wasn’t certain how long they stood there before Trish and Bill elbowed their way out the door, taking Seth with them. He turned back toward her as he headed to his town house. “Good night, Abby.”

She gulped. She could hear the desire in his voice, feel the warmth of his gaze. Trish was right.

Seth wanted her.

Now all she had to do was decide if she had the courage to let him have her.