chapter 2

“Seth? What’s wrong?”

Seth sighed. He couldn’t believe he’d knocked on her door, but damn, he was exhausted, and he couldn’t keep himself from trying to see her. They’d passed each other a few times in the week since the dinner with Trish and Bill, and he’d watched over her from afar, but it wasn’t the same.

He’d missed her, missed the sound of her bright laugh and the way her cheeks flushed when he looked at her, far more than he’d thought possible.

“Seth?”

He straightened up from where he’d been leaning on her doorjamb. He couldn’t tell her the truth, that he’d been fighting Shem all day. “I don’t mean to impose, but I just pulled sixteen hours at a job site, cleaning up a contractor mess, and I’m dead on my feet. Would you be so kind as to order me a pizza, or something? I think the only reason I’m still upright is I haven’t eaten since...” He scratched his head, unwilling to tell her it had been yesterday. “Yeah. I think my stomach’s going to beat me to death and eat me.”

She stared at him for a moment, and then she grabbed hold of his wrinkled shirt and pulled him into her home. “I hope you like chicken burritos and rice, because that’s what you’re eating tonight. I’ll help you back to your place after I’ve fed you.” He collapsed, boneless, into one of her armchairs.

Damn. The last time he’d been this weary he’d had Sasha to blame. Stupid Edinburgh-pub- crawling asshat. He’d never had a worse hangover in his damn life, but it had helped take his mind off the loss of Fiona.

She brought him a glass of cola and he sipped it gratefully. “Bless you, woman.”

“You’ll have to excuse me. I always exercise a little before dinner, and you caught me in the middle. My therapists said it’s good for me.” She waved her hand awkwardly. “Just...chill. I’ll be done soon.”

She waited until he nodded before moving into the cleared space by the sliding glass doors that led to her deck. She watched him, waiting until his eyes closed wearily before she restarted her music.

He stared at her through his lashes, entranced, as she moved gracefully through a series of yoga moves that left him hard, aching and wide awake.

He’d never watched someone do yoga to soft rock before. Usually he associated it with new age music. He found himself entranced at the way her body shifted, gliding effortlessly from one pose to another. There was strength in her movements, her stomach and leg muscles rippling with effort. The scars on her lower back and arm accentuated her quiet strength.

She was seducing him, and she hadn’t even looked at him.

The music changed again, quicker than what she’d moved to before, and seemed to signal the end of her routine, because her eyes opened and she smiled at him, her breathing rapid.

“You hungry?” she panted.

“Starving,” he replied. A flush crept up her face, and her gaze fell from his as she moved away. He affected her, and the realization sent a shock of adrenaline through his system. Trish had been right.

Abby wanted him. “Do you want something stronger than soda?” Her voice drifted from the vicinity of her bedroom.

“God, yes. Thanks.” He could hear the soft sound of cloth on skin, and pictured her undressing. Now that he knew she had an incredible shape, it was easy to fill in the blanks. He felt his body tighten in response. The only question that haunted him now was what color her nipples would be. He could torture himself for days with that thought alone.

“Well, the only thing I have is sangria. Is that okay?” “The wine with the fruit in it?”

“Yes.” He could hear her opening up closets and drawers, probably rummaging about for another oversize plaid shirt. Not that it would do any good. He knew what she was hiding, and the image was burned into his soul.

“That sounds fantastic. Thanks.” He found the energy to stand, the scent of burritos causing his stomach to rumble loudly. He found the wineglasses and pulled two out.

“I have the wine.” He turned and watched her open the bottle. She’d put on a huge red plaid shirt with gray tights. She grabbed some fruit out of the refrigerator and began cutting it, gesturing for the glasses when she was done. She placed the fruit inside and poured the wine in. She picked up her glass and took a sip, handing him his as she did so.

“Go sit. I’ll get dinner on the table. You really do seem exhausted, Seth.” The concern in her gaze touched him.

“I look like hell, huh?” He smiled ruefully, willing her to open up to him, to trust him.

“Well, let’s just say you wouldn’t get the cover of a magazine right now.” He caught sight of her grin before she bowed her head, hiding it behind the fall of her hair.

He snorted a laugh, moving back to the comfort of her armchair. The combination of the wine, the heat of the oven and the soft music had him nearly asleep by the time the food was on the table.

“Seth? Dinner’s ready.” He opened his eyes to see her bending over him, her expression concerned. When had he nodded off? “You should eat something before you pass out. Again.”

He followed her to the table, the enticing aroma making his stomach growl. “Thank you, Abby. I probably would have collapsed on the floor instead of eating if I hadn’t come here.” He propped his chin on his hands and studied her, hoping he wasn’t about to drive her back into her shell. “I’d like to make it up to you, if that’s okay.”

That charming blush crept up her cheeks again. “It’s okay. What are neighbors for?”

He did his best to sound casual, but he wanted her to say yes in the worst way. “I appreciate that, but I’d really like the opportunity to repay you.” He smiled. “Let me take you out to dinner.”

“As a neighbor?” That charming blush deepened.

He hoped she’d pick up on his desire to be more than neighborly. “If that’s what you want. I’d prefer as a date.”

If her face turned any darker he’d have to call Rafe for a healing, but her smile was wide and beyond happy. Her chin tilted up bravely, and he realized that this might be the first date she’d been on since she was injured. “I’d like that.”

“Is Saturday good for you?” He’d have time to get some things cleared up, give her time to get used to the idea that they’d be seeing each other again. He figured if she were going to panic, she’d call Trish. Hell, he’d call Trish and ask her to take care of any nerves Abby might have.

“Sunday would be better. I work all day Saturday, but only a few hours on Sunday.”

He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it, enjoying the way she trembled in his grasp. “Then it’s a date.”

She bit her lip, her nervous excitement practically vibrating around her. “It is.”

He silently thanked Gabriel for assigning him to Abby. If he hadn’t, Seth would never have gotten this chance to know her again.

* * *

The rest of the week seemed to float by for Abby. She found herself back on the highway Sunday afternoon, headed for home before she knew it, her clients just a jumbled memory of perms and foils. All she could think about was the fact that Seth wanted to see her again.

The Seth van Licht wanted to take her out on a date. A date. She hadn’t been on one since... Well.

Best not to think of that. Better to think of stormy eyes and warm smiles.

He’d seen her scars, and he still wanted to go out with her. She was this close to fangirl-type squealing.

She needed to get hold of Trish. She had no idea what to wear for a first date with her dream man. She wasn’t certain there was anything in her closet worthy of a first date with Seth freakin’ van Licht.

She let herself into her town house, barely holding back the urge to go over to Seth’s and see what he was doing. Their date was coming in a few hours, and she’d picked up the cutest little skirt to wear, but now she was second-guessing herself. Maybe she should go with jeans and that pretty peasant blouse Bill had gotten her for her birthday?

She was bouncing on her toes, eager and scared at the same time. She hadn’t felt like this since she was a kid, and damn if it wasn’t Seth doing it to her all over again. She could hardly wait to see him. She practically danced up the stairs to her bedroom like an eager teenager, ready and eager to go out with him. She turned on the lights—

She dropped her purse with a scream. There were rose petals all over her bedspread. Red rose petals. The pillows were drowning in them. And, on the mirror of her dresser, was a note written in red lipstick:

For you, my love.

Slowly, her hands shaking, Abby reached for the phone and dialed 911.

“Nine one one, what’s your emergency?” The operator’s voice was cool and efficient.

“My...my house has been broken into.” She was shaking so badly she was surprised she made any sense.

“Okay. What’s your name?” “Abigail Marcheson.” “And your address?”

Abby rattled off her address. She couldn’t move. She was afraid if she did, she’d fall, or start screaming.

For you, my love.

“Are you related to Officer Bill Marcheson?” “He’s my brother.”

“I’ll put a call in to him. Do you have any reason to believe the intruder could still be present?” Abby whimpered. God, she hoped not. She strained her ears, listening for anything that sounded out

of place. “I don’t—” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t think so.”

Let him be gone. Please, God, let him be long gone.

“Where are you now?”

“The bedroom. It’s...damaged.”

“The intruder did something to your bedroom?” Didn’t she just say that? “Yeah.”

“I need you to not touch anything. Can you do that for me?”

Like she wanted to touch anything that sick fuck had left behind. “Okay. Please hurry.”

She heard the dispatcher ask someone to call Bill and tried to breathe. “Can you leave the house?” No. No, she fucking could not, because she couldn’t fucking move. “No.”

“Is there someone you can call to be with you?”

She wanted to fling the phone at the goddamn words lipsticked on her mirror. “I’m using my phone to call you.”

“Stay calm, ma’am. We’ve sent a patrol car to your home. Stay on the line with me until they arrive, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” She might shake to pieces, but she wouldn’t hang up. “What color is your house, ma’am?”

She blinked. “It’s a town house. It’s beige, like all the others.”

“Okay. Some people change the siding on their town house in the older developments. Were all the doors locked?”

“Um.” Abby tried to get her brain to work. “Yeah. I left for work around eight and I always make sure the doors are locked.”

“You work on a Sunday?”

“I’m a hairdresser, and the salon is open half a day on Sundays.”

“Ah. Did anything appear out of place when you walked up to the house?”

“No. No, I wouldn’t have come in if it had.” Why so many questions? And where were the fucking police? “Someone hurt me five years ago, nearly burned me alive. Trust me, I lock my doors.”

“Okay, ma’am. I have to ask these things.” The operator’s voice had gone from calm and professional to sympathetic. “Do you think it could be the same man?”

“No. He’s in jail, serving life without parole for murder.” “Are you certain he’s still in jail?”

She grimaced. “No one contacted me to let me know he wasn’t, and it’s on his file to do so if he ever escapes.” If Doug ever got out, she planned on running for her life.

Abby jumped as someone banged on her door. “Police, Ms. Marcheson.” Abby knees went weak. “They’re here.”

“All right. Stay on the line until you’re with them, just to be safe. Can you do that?”

She could so do that. “Yes.” She finally unlocked her knees enough to stumble toward the bedroom door. Going down the stairs proved harder than it should have, but she made it. She got the front door open to find her brother and a huge blond detective standing there. “My brother is here.”

“Put him on, so I can verify the cops are there.”

Abby handed the phone to Bill and promptly collapsed.

* * *

She’d fainted. She’d goddamn fainted from fear, and when she came to, Bill was equal parts concerned and livid.

Someone had been in her home. Someone who knew about Doug.

Uniformed cops tramped through her house for hours, taking prints and collecting evidence, but they told her that there wasn’t much they could do. There was no sign of forced entry, and all of her doors and windows had been locked.

She overheard some of the cops talking. There were no unidentifiable fingerprints that they could find. Whoever had done this had been good, or as one of them implied, they’d had a key.

A fucking key. She sat down hard on the sofa, bouncing a little. Abby knew everyone who had keys to her town house. None of them would do something like this. They were her friends, people she trusted. Family. No way any of them would torture her like this.

They took the lipstick as evidence, as well as the rose petals and the roses. They took pictures of the mirror. They watched like hawks when the locksmith Bill called for changed all of her outer doors and handed her the new key. And then they left, saying they’d “keep an eye out.”

“Abby? Come home with me.”

Fuck no. “I’m not bringing this into your home.” “Abby.”

He was using his cop voice, but that didn’t work on her. “I’m not bringing this to Trish.” If this was Doug... If he’d gotten out...

No. She’d never let that sick asshole take another member of her family.

Bill winced. “Then let me call someone to stay with you, okay?” When she started to shake her head he held up his hand. “Someone with no kids, no wife, and who you trust.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Someone I trust.”

She nodded reluctantly. “Okay, Bill.” She didn’t want a stranger in her home—a cop she didn’t know—but it was the only way Bill would leave.

She wasn’t the only one who’d been scarred by the fire.

Bill hugged her goodbye and walked toward the front door, already dialing. The huge blond cop smiled at her with warm brown eyes. “Take care, Ms. Marcheson.”

“Thanks.”

He nodded once and followed Bill out the door, shutting it quietly behind them.

Abby listened to the silence in the empty town house and shivered. She’d never been so frightened in her life. She knew what Doug was capable of.

For you, my love.

The words frightened her more than the rose petals. Doug had used them frequently when he talked about his business dealings. How everything he did was for her. That someday, when they married, she’d be grateful. And when she dared to disagree...to tell him that it was for him and not her...

She shivered. For you, my love.

She curled up on the sofa, remembering the last time he’d hit her. He’d called her a bitch and a whore, told her that she wasn’t worth anything. He’d nearly beaten her to death, all because she’d told him she was leaving him.

That wasn’t the worst thing he’d done to her.

He hadn’t said a word as they led him out of the courtroom in handcuffs, convicted of first-degree murder, attempted murder, and arson. He’d just glared at her.

If he ever got free he’d kill her.

The unexpected knock at the door made her scream. Everything had been so quiet up until then that it sounded unnaturally loud. Shaking, she got to her feet. Hopefully it was a cop standing on her doorstep. She didn’t think she could handle much more tonight. She crept to the door like a frightened child and peered out the peephole.

Seth. She stared at her watch, horrified. Shit. She’d forgotten to call him and cancel their date.

But, God, it was good to see him. He stood there, scanning the parking lot as if he sensed something she couldn’t. She opened the door and found herself crushed in his arms, relaxing against him in spite of herself. His warmth began to chase away the chills. She buried her face in his chest and breathed deep, inhaling his scent. It soothed something deep inside her, let her truly breathe again. The shirt he wore was soft as silk and warm from his body. She bit her lip against a sudden flood of tears.

For the first time that night she felt safe. Not even Bill’s presence calmed her the way Seth’s solid strength did.

“Bill called me. I came over as fast as I could. I would have been here sooner, but I was at work. I had to fight to get away.” He pulled back slightly, studying her face with an intensity that should have scared her silly. Instead it made her feel cherished. “Are you all right?”

She laughed, an edge of hysteria in her voice. “No.”

“I can see that.” She clung to him, her only rock in a sea of madness. He answered her silent plea and pushed her back into her town house, shutting the door behind him. Seth sat her down on her sofa, covered her in the bright gold throw she kept over it and moved into her kitchen. She could hear cupboards being open and closed. “Don’t you have anything stronger than sangria in here?”

“No, not really. I’m not a heavy drinker.” Though after tonight, she could be.

He brought her a glass of wine. “Drink while I pack.” He stalked off toward her stairway. She choked on her sip of wine. “Pack?”

She heard him curse as he reached her bedroom. “You heard me.”

“Um, if you don’t mind my asking, why do I need to pack?” She was terrified of staying here for the night, but where could she go? This was her home. There was no way she’d drag this sort of danger to Bill’s place, let alone her parents’. They’d finally rebuilt their lives. She wouldn’t mess that up again.

“My place.” She could hear drawers opening up as he rifled through her clothing. He muttered something about her plaid shirts, and it didn’t sound complimentary.

“Oh. That makes perfect sense.” She shook her head quickly. “Not. Why am I going to your place?”

He walked back in with her suitcase repacked, and practically lifted her off the sofa. “Because I won’t be able to sleep a wink knowing that you’re alone in here, that’s why.” He marched her to her front door and held his hand out impatiently for the key.

Did she trust him enough to hand over the key to her home, her sanctuary?

But her sanctuary had been violated. Besides, she had to admit that she did trust him, or she’d never have allowed him inside in the first place.

The determined expression on his face made her decision easier. She handed him her keys, nodding as he silently thanked her for her gift of trust with a smile that damn near melted her insides.

Seth locked the door and made it quite clear he was guarding her on the short walk to his town house. He opened the door and went in first, his hand clamped around her wrist. He took a quick glance around and, apparently satisfied, closed and locked the door behind her. He put her suitcase down and headed for the kitchen to make coffee.

She prayed she wasn’t making the second biggest mistake of her life.

She started to wander around his town house, still a little numb. Absently, she began inspecting bits and pieces of his home. She picked up a delicate glass bird and winced. Who the hell picked this out? This is so not him. She noticed there were quite a few bird images around the room.

Fiona must have been seriously into bird-watching. Either that, or Seth was. Somehow she couldn’t picture Seth sitting in a blind with a pair of binoculars, watching feathery antics of the boring kind.

Then again, what she knew about Seth would fill a thimble.

She stared at a particularly beautiful picture of a winged angel that bore a remarkable resemblance to Seth. It was done in the same icy blues and cool whites as the rest of the home, and made the angel seem untouchable. Inhuman. Was this how Fiona had seen Seth? She risked a quick glance toward the kitchen before moving on from the painting. Fiona had been his wife, and presumably had known him better than Abby did.

Her eyes were drawn once more to the cold, isolated angel. Maybe Seth wasn’t quite what he seemed after all.

* * *

Seth pulled out his cell phone as the coffee pot burbled. “Gabriel. The Shemyaza has made contact.” Gabriel was silent for a moment. “Tell me.”

Seth remembered the poisonous green miasma he’d seen lingering in Abby’s bedroom. The evil he’d sensed had already fled, but the stench in the room had screamed danger. There was nothing the police would be able to do for Abby.

“They made it appear to be a stalker. Rose petals all over the place, words written in lipstick on the mirror.” Seth’s blood boiled thinking about it. Her home had been invaded while Seth was out hunting Shem. He’d trusted she’d be safe while at work, had figured she’d be alone for no more than a few minutes.

How wrong he’d been. The Shem he’d been hunting had been wily. She had gotten away from him, disappearing into the shadows with barely a trace. He’d hunted for another hour, hoping to find her, but with no luck. It wasn’t until Bill called that he realized how late it was.

If he could kick his own ass, he would. How could he have left Abby unguarded? “Any idea why they are targeting her?”

“None yet. She’s a normal woman who goes to work and has family and friends. She’s innocent.” “If we’re wrong, and this is a feeding hunt, that might be the draw.” Gabriel went silent for a

moment. “Very well. Keep her close, and keep me posted. If you need help, Piotr will be back in town soon. I’ll call Dante and Damien, let them know what’s going on. They both should be of major assistance to you. They’ll be expecting your call.”

“What about Sasha?” The Knight would be more than capable of helping him protect Abby. Sasha’s ability to fight was legendary, even though the man was barely into his thirties.

“He’s with Micah. They’re out on a mission, checking out different Shem activity.”

Damn it. He was aware that there were other Shem-related things going on in their home state, but that didn’t mean it didn’t rankle that Abby’s case wasn’t being given priority.

“You should know that Rafe hasn’t checked in recently.” Gabriel’s voice was solemn. It always hurt Gabriel to lose one of the Nephilim directly under him. And Rafe was special to all of them. He

was the youngest of their group, their baby brother, and they’d pull out all the stops to find him. “Who’s looking for him?”

“Zeke.”

Shit. It had to be bad if Gabriel was breaking out the heavy hitter. As a Legionnaire, there wasn’t much that could hurt Zeke, unless a Shem figured out his weakness. “Keep me posted?” Rafe was a warrior, but nowhere near as strong as Zeke. If he’d gotten in deeper than he could handle—

“I know you worry about all of us, Seth, but for now I need you to concentrate on Ms. Marcheson.” Like that would be difficult. “Will do.”

“Be careful. Until we know why the Shemyaza are so interested in her, you’ll need to watch your back.”

“Understood. Stay safe, my brother.” It always felt weird saying that to Gabriel, but they all did it.

He might be a true angel, but he was their angel.

“Stay safe, my brother.” The warmth in Gabriel’s voice eased him. He put his phone away and stuck his head out of the kitchen.

Abby floated around his blue and white living room, a column of living, breathing flame in a world of ice, gently touching here and there. She wordlessly asked for permission to pick up one of the small modern glass sculptures Fiona had loved so much. He noticed that the tension in her shoulders was finally starting to ease, and silently gave her permission to roam as she wished. He would give her anything she wanted to see that horrible fear gone from her eyes.

“Somehow, this place doesn’t really fit you.”

He paused in the act of pouring her coffee. He’d never really thought about his decor, but Fiona had loved it. “No?”

She put the little crystal sculpture down and turned to stare at the painting above his fireplace. Fiona had adored the angel, but Seth had blushed when he first saw it. Fiona had purchased the painting for him as a Christmas present. She’d insisted he hang it above the fireplace. If she’d known how he truly felt about that picture...but he’d never told her what he was, who she was married to, even at the end. The lonely angel had mocked him more than once after Fiona’s death, but now it seemed different. Instead of seeming lonely, the angel seemed to be waiting for something.

Seth shook his head. He was thinking of the angel as himself. If he kept that up, he’d earn himself a hug-me jacket, size medium.

“It seems so...cold. Remote.” She turned to study him with a serious expression in her eyes. “You don’t really strike me that way.”

He sighed and finished pouring the coffee. Time to open up a little. “My wife loved our home.” There was silence. He glanced up to find her studying him with a compassion that humbled him.

After everything she’d been through that night, she was going to try and make him feel better. “I barely remember Fiona.”

He handed her the coffee cup and sipped his own before answering. “She chose the decor when we were first married.”

“She seemed like a nice woman.”

He sat down in an ice-blue armchair and smiled at her gently. Her expression said it all. She was afraid he’d be hurt by the fact that they’d brought up Fiona, but instead he was touched. She was worried about him on one of the worst nights of her life. “It’s all right, Abby. She was very sick at the end, and it was almost a mercy when she passed on. There wasn’t anything anyone could do for her

except ease her pain.” And he’d tried. Lord, had he tried. By the time they realized how sick she truly was, not even Rafe could have saved her.

He watched as she sat gingerly on the edge of the white sofa. The tension simmering within her hadn’t eased much. “Do you still miss her?”

He thought about that for a moment. “At first it was like I couldn’t even breathe without her, but my friends helped me get through it. They were there for me at my worst hour.”

Especially Piotr. His brother had quietly and competently kept him from falling apart. It was Piotr who’d made all of the funeral arrangements, kept things running smoothly when all Seth wanted to do was curl up in a ball until it all went away. When that failed, when anger had overtaken grief, Sasha had taken over, dragging Seth to Europe for a month of drinking and exploring that had exhausted him. And when he’d come home, depressed and ready to follow Fiona, Rafe and Zeke had helped him crawl out of the hole he’d dug himself by being the charming assholes he knew and loved. Dante and Damien had been waiting for him when he finally came to his senses and accepted that she was gone, had helped him put his life back together.

Gabriel had offered condolences and the chance to transfer to another cell if he so wished. He hadn’t. His brothers were the best men he knew, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Her soft tone brought him back from his memories. “She was a very important part of my life, and I’ll never forget her. But she’s been gone for five years. I loved her dearly, but it’s more than time I moved on. I’m okay with that. And I know she would be too.”

She sipped her overly sweet coffee. “Mmm. How did you know I like a little coffee with my cream and sugar?”

Seth grinned. It wasn’t a subtle way to change the subject, but he appreciated the effort. “Fajita night. Frankly, I was amazed there was any cream and sugar left for anyone else.”

Forced amusement turned into a full-blown, slightly lopsided grin. “Good thing you take yours black, then.”

“You’re going to spend the night here.” He nearly winced at his grim tone. Maybe he should have tried to be a little more diplomatic, but it was too late now. There was no way he was leaving her alone.

Abby’s amusement faded away. She put down her coffee cup, the tension back in her shoulders. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Oh, I definitely think it’s a good idea.” He put his cup next to hers. He stood up and crossed his arms. He was dead serious about keeping her safe, either in his home or hers. He knew which he preferred. “You either spend the night here, or I spend the night there. It’s your choice. Either way, you’re stuck with me.”

“Umm...”

“Oh, and don’t plan on going anywhere alone, either. I will be with you at all times. Understood?” In fact, he’d insisted on it when Bill called him. Thank God her brother had agreed, because Seth would have done it anyway, and he didn’t need the big cop arresting him for stalking. Gabriel would have a field day with that one. “Until we find who did this and we know you’re safe, I’m your shadow.”

“Who said this was any of your business? And who is we?”

He leaned down, placing his hands on either side of her head. “The minute that person entered your

bedroom, it became my business.” He hoped she could see his determination and understand it. She was his to protect and defend. She’d let him in, and he would guard her now with his life. But first, he had to get her to relax. He tried to tone down the caveman instinct that wanted to lock her in a safe, well-padded box and backed away from her just a hair. “And your brother asked me to.”

Some of the fear left her face. Her shoulders relaxed, the tension easing with the knowledge that Bill had sent Seth to watch over her. Little did she know that it was an angel who’d really sent him. “Okay, Seth.”

He damn near sighed in relief. He nodded and moved back to his chair. He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. “Do you have any idea who would want to break into your home and leave you a message like that?” If Seth got a hold of whoever had broken in, not even Zeke would be able to hold him back, and Zeke was the strongest Neph in Gabriel’s cell.

She shuddered. “Only one, but he’s in jail.”

The cup paused on its way to his mouth, and one dark brow rose in a question. “Oh? And that would be...?”

She closed her eyes in remembered pain. “Douglas Finley.”

Hell. Her psycho ex. But according to everything they knew, the asshat was still sitting in lockup, serving out a life sentence. “Tell me about Douglas Finley.” He needed to hear the words from her lips, to make her lance the wound that had been inflicted on her that night.

She sighed, staring into her coffee cup rather than at him. “Doug was a man I dated about five years ago. He was smart, good looking, had everything going for him. He was a real-estate agent, and made good money at it, too. He could sell anything to anyone, even with the downturn in the economy. When we started going out, he’d tell me that everything he did was for me. For the future he wanted us to have together. At first, I thought it was charming and romantic.” Her smile twisted, became brittle. “After a while it became smothering.”

The cup was put on the table, her hand going to the scars on her arm. She started rubbing them absently.

“One day, I smiled at a guy I worked with just as Doug came by to take me to lunch. Judd said something amusing, that was all, a joke I don’t even remember, and I smiled at him. Doug didn’t like that. He told me that I was acting like he meant nothing to me, that watching me smile at another man hurt him. I apologized. I explained to him that Judd made a joke and that was what I’d been smiling at. He seemed to accept the explanation.

“As time went on, Doug became more and more jealous. He wanted me to quit my job, to move in with him, but for some reason I was never tempted to do that. Maybe deep down I knew something was wrong, and the more he pushed the more I told him no.” She choked. “God, I was so stupid.”

“No. If you were stupid, you would have given in.”

He wasn’t even certain she’d heard him. “He started telling me he didn’t want me working with male clients anymore. His temper became worse. He started hitting me, little slaps at first that didn’t really hurt. When I complained, he told me that he’d only been joking and that I shouldn’t take it so seriously. I believed him.” Anguish and self-contempt filled her expression, her fingers digging into her arm. Into her scars. “I believed him, Seth.”

If he ever met Doug Finley, the man was dead, human or not.

“It escalated from there. One day he came to my apartment, screaming that I’d slept with one of his coworkers.” She laughed, the sound low and bitter, and Seth had to clench his hands to keep from

pulling her into his lap to protect her from the memories. “I’d complimented the man on his wife’s potato salad at the company picnic, and he’d put his hand on my arm when he thanked me. That’s all.” She rubbed her scars harder. “I just couldn’t take it anymore, so I told him that it was over between us, and shut the door in his face.” Abby took a sip of her coffee, but her hands were shaking so badly she nearly dropped the cup when she tried to put it back on the coffee table. “He knocked my door down, and nearly beat me to death. If one of my neighbors hadn’t called the police, I would be dead right now. As it was, they had to do reconstructive surgery on my face. It took two years to finish healing completely, and I still have scars.” She pointed to the faint lines under her jaw and near her nose, barely visible until she pointed them out. She didn’t need to point out the ones on her arm. Not when he was so aware of the way she rubbed at them. “When I came to in the hospital the cops were waiting. After...some things I’d rather not talk about, they finally caught him.”

Was it possible? Could Doug be the Shemyaza that was hunting her? It would explain a lot. Some of the Shem developed obsessions with their prey, refusing to let them go until they were completely devoured. Doug could be one of them.

If so, they’d have to kill him. Once a Shem was on the hunt for specific prey, nothing would stop them.

“He got a life sentence without the possibility of parole. And I got huge therapy and hospital bills and a fear of men I’ve barely gotten over.”

There was silence as Seth absorbed her story. Jail was no barrier to a determined Shem. It was entirely possible he had already gotten free and was hunting again. The easiest way to find out would be to check with Dante. If it was Finley...

When he was done, the man would need a little more than facial reconstructive surgery and therapy.

She sat there, pale and shaken, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to wrap her up in his wings and fly away with her. When she began rubbing her arms, he realized he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

He steeled himself for the rejection he was certain would come.

She was shaking like a leaf as he settled on the sofa next to her. He pulled her onto his lap, surprised when she didn’t protest but unwilling to let her go. He held her gently, stroking her hair, praying that the hellish visions of Doug would fade away, if only for a few moments. She burrowed against him, her face pressed against the side of his neck, her arms wrapped around him so tightly he could barely breathe. He crooned, nonsense words, but they seemed to soothe her.

Or so he thought, until her breath caught and she began sobbing on his shoulder. Seth held her, repeating over and over again that everything was okay. No one would hurt her ever again. He was there and would guard her, and eventually, the storm of tears ended. Exhausted and emotionally drained, she drifted off to sleep in his arms.

Seth stared down at her tear-dampened face and felt something settle inside him. The trust she’d given him would be returned tenfold. He’d never let her regret her decision to open up to him.

Someday he’d mete out justice for what Finley had done to Abby and her family.

He lifted his precious bundle and moved to the stairs, wishing he dared put her in his bedroom. He knew better than that. He hadn’t earned her complete trust yet.

He would.

So he carried her to the spare bedroom and placed her on the bed, removing her shoes and covering her with the blinding-white duvet.

It didn’t suit her, the pure whites and icy blues of his house. Already he missed the warmth of her home.

He placed a soft kiss on her forehead and left her to her healing sleep.

Seth picked up the phone and dialed Gabriel once more. Maybe the head of the Nephilim would have some more information on how Douglas Finley was connected to the Shemyaza. If there was something there, maybe Dante could find it, or Damien.

Hell, if he had to, he’d call in all of his brothers and all hell would break loose. Literally.