Reaper Read online

  Another murmur of assent rose up, and Reaver felt sick. “And what, exactly, are you proposing? How will you destroy Azagoth? He’s not opening the gates of Sheoul-gra for just anyone. And what about the child? Are you truly going to kill her?”

  Jo spoke up. “I don’t think it’s necessary to destroy the child,” he said. Look at that. Someone wasn’t drooling over the prospect of killing a baby. “But Azagoth needs to go.”

  “The child cannot be allowed into Heaven.” Phaleg raised his voice, dead set on this course of action. “And if we don’t put it down, it could grow up to seek revenge.”

  “Do you not think any of Azagoth’s children, the thousands of them, won’t do the same?” Metatron asked. “We can’t kill them all. They’re angels.”

  “Memitim will understand,” Uriel said. “Most hate him. We calculate that no more than a hundred will protest, and of those, most are earthbound Memitim who haven’t yet earned their wings. We can easily put down a small rebellion from them.”

  Gabriel’s head swiveled around to his fellow archangel. “Who is we? And why would they feel the need to calculate a potential rebellion? How long have you been planning to destroy Azagoth?”

  Uriel snorted. “Some of us have wanted him gone since he first started refusing to father more Memitim. When he took Lilliana as a mate, it was the last straw.”

  Unbelievable. Reaver cursed. “This is why I hang out with demons. They’re more honorable than any of you.”

  Phaleg hissed at him. “Once again, you show why you don’t deserve the gift of being the Radiant.” He addressed the room, rising into the air to tower over the audience. “I propose that we use the opportunity to deliver milk to get inside Sheoul-gra to destroy Azagoth. And for those too squeamish to put down the child, you can place it with a family who will never know its parentage. Any objections? From anyone other than Reaver, Metatron, and Gabriel?”

  Not a single person objected.

  “This is a mistake,” Reaver growled. “I’m not Azagoth’s biggest fan. The bastard threw me into the belly of a demon and left me there to be slowly digested. Plus, he’s a giant tool. But what you’re talking about should be a last resort. We didn’t even discuss other options.”

  “There are no other options.”

  “Then there’s no reason for me to be here.” He stormed to the door, but as he threw it open, Camael cleared his throat.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, Reaver. Stay out of the way.”

  Reaver almost laughed. Staying out of the way wasn’t his specialty. And doing stupid shit was totally in his wheelhouse.

  It was as if these idiots didn’t know him at all.

  “Do it,” someone whispered.

  A warning tingle made the base of his skull itch. What the—?

  Clamps powered by the collective energy of the Orders wrapped around the base of his wings, and just like that, his powers went neutral, and he crashed to his knees.

  “Stop!” Metatron shouted. “This isn’t necessary.”

  “Don’t worry,” Uriel said. “It’s only temporary. Just until we take care of Azagoth.” He tweaked Reaver’s nose on the way out the door. “We can’t have you warning your buddies now, can we?”

  Well, apparently, he’d been wrong. It seemed these idiots knew him very well.

  Chapter 30

  Lilliana didn’t know how long it had been since she’d given birth. Time had become irrelevant, measured only by the meals her guards brought, which she left uneaten in the corner. She had no idea if Flail had successfully gotten out with the baby, and if she had, where her little girl was now.

  Curled up in a little ball, Lilliana cried for the millionth time, praying she didn’t die before she found out what had happened to her daughter.

  She and Azagoth hadn’t even settled on a name.

  A fat tear plopped to the floor just as the door creaked open. Blinking, Lilliana wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sat up.

  Clad in head-to-toe black leather and cloaked in shadow, Flail stood in the doorway and scowled down at Lilliana.

  “Pathetic,” she said.

  “My baby,” Lilliana croaked, her throat parched. “Where is she?”

  “I assume she’s with Azagoth by now.” Flail’s voice sounded raw, as if she’d been screaming as much as Lilliana had. “I left the squalling little toad at Underworld General.”

  Days’ worth of anxiety escaped Lilliana like air from a popped tire.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”

  “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for my sister.” Flail paused. “I think you actually would have liked her. If she hadn’t fucked your mate, anyway. But didn’t you say none of that bothers you?”

  Lilliana licked her dry lips, but her tongue scraped like sandpaper. “That’s what I said.”

  “You’re not a very good liar.” She turned to leave, and Lilliana gaped.

  Half of Flail’s face was missing, leaving muscle and bone exposed to the air.

  “Flail,” she gasped. “Your face…”

  “My punishment for taking the baby to Azagoth.” She shrugged. “Moloch’s done worse.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “Save your pity for yourself,” Flail snapped. “You’re going to need it.”

  She slammed the door closed, leaving Lilliana blessedly alone and smiling. Her baby was safe. Eidolon would have seen to it that she was delivered to her father. Azagoth was probably, at this moment, holding her in his arms. It would be the first time he’d ever seen one of his children as an infant.

  Joy at the thought mixed with sorrow that she couldn’t be there. That she would probably never hold her child.

  It must have been hell for all the females who gave up their children to be raised as Memitim. It had even driven Flail’s sister to seek out the Abyss.

  All this time, Lilliana had assumed that the females sent to Azagoth were cold as ice, calculating, duty-bound broodmares. Of course, it didn’t help that one of her first—and worst—experiences with Azagoth’s past had come early in their relationship, just months after their mating ceremony.

  She’d been excited about the birth of the realm’s first litter of rabbits, and she’d rushed to tell Azagoth.

  Lilliana smiled and opened the door to Azagoth’s office.

  “Oops, I’m sorry—”

  She stopped mid-stride at the sight of Azagoth, hip propped casually against his desk, arms folded over his chest, across from a seated female. A stunning, dark-skinned beauty in a white dress far more suited to a cocktail party at the Playboy Mansion than a meeting with the Grim Reaper.

  “It’s okay.” Azagoth waved her in. “This is probably something you should hear anyway.”

  “What is it?” As she walked over, the female gave her a bored smile as if Lilliana weren’t worth more energy than that.

  “Lucielle was just saying that if more Memitim are needed, she’ll volunteer her services.”

  Surely, Lilliana hadn’t heard that right. “I’m sorry…what?”

  Lucielle stood, her gold heels adding an extra three inches to her already model-tall height. She could look Azagoth in the eye. And now Lilliana was imagining their eye-level sex.

  “I meant no offense,” she said, all stately and queen-like as if Lilliana weren’t the damned queen in this room. “It’s just that Azagoth and I have a history of producing some of the most beautiful and extraordinary Memitim. You’ve met Jasmine, I’m sure.”

  Jasmine…Jasmine… Right, Azagoth’s newly arrived, drop-dead gorgeous daughter, who seemed to hate Lilliana.

  Lilliana stood there like a goosed cow, her thoughts so fractured she couldn’t get them to make sense. “Y-yes. Yes, of course.”

  What was even happening here? It was like a bizarre dream. Did this chick not know that she and Azagoth were mated?

  “I was about to give her my answer when you walked in,” Azagoth said. “Perhaps you’d like to do the honors?”

/>   Why, yes. Yes, she would. But all she could focus on was the fact that they had children together. This female and Azagoth had slept together. More than once.

  So, instead of hauling the skank out by her thick, shiny braids, she asked, “How many?”

  “How many what, dear?” Lucielle asked sweetly. “Children? Two hundred and twelve.” She looked back at Azagoth and smiled, all lipstick and blowjobs. “The Grim Reaper and I go way back. Thousands of years before you were born.” She raked Lilliana with her gaze and gave a meh shrug. “You could join us. I’m very open to new things.”

  Okay, that was enough. Lilliana was done.

  DONE.

  “Get out,” she snarled, pointing at the door. “Get out now. And tell all your broodmare friends that Azagoth is no longer available for stud.”

  Azagoth laughed. He thought this was funny? He should be tossing Lucielle on her ass. He should be telling her that he was mated now and that he loved Lilliana and only wanted her. And that her offer was an insult to their vows.

  “Broodmare?” Lucielle went erect with indignation, her chin coming up so she could look down her narrow, perfect nose at Lilliana. “Being chosen to create, within our bodies, a unique class of angels from the seed of—”

  “Out!” With a thought and a fling of the arm, Lucielle was yanked off her feet and tossed into the hall. A slam of the door kept Lilliana from having to look at her stupid, dumbfounded face. Then, because doing that had done nothing to ease the hurt Azagoth had caused by not being outraged, she palmed one of the jade figurines on his desk and hurled it to the floor, where it shattered into a dozen pieces.

  “Was that really necessary?”

  She wheeled back around to Azagoth, who was still sitting there like a statue, one dark eyebrow cocked.

  “Was it—what? Are you kidding me right now?” she demanded. “You should have kicked her out. That…that skank…propositioned you right in front of me. That female you fucked in our bedroom over two hundred times!” At least Lilliana had gotten rid of the bed.

  “Calm down,” he said. “We didn’t use the bedroom much.”

  Her mouth fell open. Closed.

  She left it that way, because if her mouth opened again, well…he’d regret it more than she would.

  Spinning on her heel, she marched out.

  But not before giving him the universally understood glare for, “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

  She’d been so angry. Neither she nor Azagoth had apologized, and they’d eventually gotten past it.

  But had they really?

  She’d sworn she could deal with all the females he’d bedded, and she had. After all, she rarely saw any of them. Azagoth had put out a notice that they weren’t welcome in Sheoul-gra, except for under extreme circumstances, and they’d listened.

  So, it wasn’t that she was dealing with the issue; it was that the issue hadn’t been an issue at all.

  Not…really. But even that wasn’t true, was it? She was constantly surrounded by the evidence of Azagoth’s sexcapades. Memitim were everywhere—walking, talking mementos.

  She thought about living with them, how difficult it was sometimes. They could be jerks, some more so than others. She’d always written it off as it being their resentment of their parents or their circumstances, but what if…what if she were to blame for a lot of it?

  What if she’d been giving standoffish vibes from the beginning?

  It was possible that she hadn’t been the most welcoming at times, and she’d probably been less patient than she could have been. Hell, there was no sense sugarcoating it. She’d been downright chilly and abrupt with many of them.

  Oh, God. If she ever got out of here, she had some apologizing to do.

  If she ever got out of here.

  Azagoth sat in the rocking chair in the bedroom, his sweet little angel in his arms. A sweet little angel with a cry that could wake the souls in the Inner Sanctum. Razr’s mate, Jedda, had taken to calling her Raika, a word in Jedda’s native elven language that meant hellmouth.

  As unflattering as that was, it was accurate, and the name had stuck.

  For now.

  “I wish your mom were here,” he murmured to his daughter.

  She cooed around the nipple of the bottle he was using to feed her. No angels had shown up with milk yet, but hopefully, he’d hear something soon. Hawkyn had gone to the Memitim Council to check on the status of the request.

  He looked down at his little girl and couldn’t believe that he was actually holding one of his own infant children. Had he known how in love one could fall with a baby, he’d have fought from the beginning to have his children raised in Heaven instead of with the worst people humanity had to offer.

  There were a lot of things he’d do differently if given a chance.

  There was a tap at the door. “Father?” Jasmine’s voice drifted through the thick iron and wood. “Jim Bob is requesting entrance, and Hawkyn said the milk should be here within the hour. He’s bringing it himself.”

  Good. The bastards had insisted on bringing it themselves, but that had been a firm no-deal for Azagoth.

  “Tell Jim Bob no, and that he can text if it’s important,” he called out.

  “I’ll tell him, but he’s pretty insistent. Also, Suzanne will be here momentarily. She wants to cook supper. I’ll give her a hand if she needs help.”

  Jasmine didn’t like to cook, but she’d stepped up since Lilliana had been gone. She’d even offered to babysit, but he’d had no need. His child wouldn’t leave his sight until Lilliana was home. Still, he appreciated Jasmine’s offer. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that she’d come from Lucielle.

  Lucielle had been one of the handful of angels who hadn’t hated every minute of being in his bed. Not that they’d used his bed much. She preferred porn-worthy locations and creativity, using him as an outlet for pleasures she couldn’t get from stodgy, uptight angel types.

  She was one of the few who acknowledged that she enjoyed fucking him, and he was pretty sure that fact, more than any honor bullshit, was the reason she had kept coming back.

  It was definitely the reason she’d come back and wrecked his relationship with Lilliana for a few days.

  Azagoth sat on the edge of his desk, annoyed that Lucielle had been here for five minutes already, and she still hadn’t told him why. He didn’t think she had, anyway. He’d tuned her out for a couple of minutes while he fantasized about his new mate.

  Last night had been hot.

  Damn, Lilliana was eager. She’d grown bolder with her sexual demands, and last night, she’d wanted it rough and dirty.

  He’d been okay with that.

  “…so, as I was saying,” Lucielle droned on, “a few of us would like to continue our relationship with you…as mothers of Memitim, of course.”

  Huh. She’d really gone there.

  “So, even though I’m mated, you want to keep fucking me,” he said flatly. “To get pregnant, of course.”

  She uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, flashing a lot of toned, flawless thigh and a glimpse of the shadowy place in between. Did she really think he was so easily seduced? He took that back. If Lilliana ever did that, he’d have his face between her thighs before she could cross her legs again.

  “The creation of divine beings destined to protect the future of mankind is both a calling and a mandate that reaches beyond all other convention and law. Many of us are true believers in the mission of the Memitim, and if you recall, many of us are mated to mates who also believe in the cause.”

  So, basically, they had open marriages and were using extreme interpretations of angelic guidelines to justify them.

  Also, Lilliana would be moaning his name by now.

  “What’s the saying, Lucielle? Be honest in your sin, else you add three more sins when you lie to yourself, to others, and to the Almighty? You and your mate want to screw other people? Nothing wrong with that. Just admit it instead of using some sacred duty as an
excuse.”

  “If I admit it, is that a yes?”

  It was a hard no. In fact—

  The door whipped open, and Lilliana started inside, looking incredibly sexy in worn, frayed jeans, a plain white tee, and white flip-flops. Lucielle’s polished, sterile perfection had nothing on the natural, classic beauty Lilliana achieved without even trying.

  “Oops, I’m sorry—” She stopped mid-stride in the doorway, her gaze flitting between him and Lucielle.

  “It’s okay.” Azagoth waved her in. He probably should send Lucielle on her way, but he was curious, morbidly so perhaps, to see what Lilliana would do. She claimed to be at peace with his past, but his past had an ill-timed tendency to become the present with alarming frequency. And always when his children were around. “This is probably something you should hear anyway.”

  “What is it?” Lilliana came over, looking a little hesitant. She’d been here for months, but so much of his world was new to her. She didn’t know the players, she didn’t know the politics, and she didn’t know jack shit about the mothers of his children.

  “Lucielle was just saying that if more Memitim are needed, she’ll volunteer her services.”

  Lilliana blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry…what?”

  Lucielle came gracefully to her feet, her tight dress hiked high on her thighs. Lilliana would look so much better in it. The way she looked better out of it.

  “I meant no offense,” she said in the unruffled, breathy drawl she used when she proposed some new way to screw.

  Which was what she was doing with Lilliana. Screwing with her. He couldn’t wait for Lilli to unleash on her. He’d been on the wrong side of Lilliana’s wrath a couple of times, and it was not pleasant.

  Lucielle continued, all satin and knives. “It’s just that Azagoth and I have a history of producing some of the most beautiful and extraordinary Memitim. You’ve met Jasmine, I’m sure.”