“I’m going to leave,” Azazel said in a quiet voice.

“I know.” We had been together from the very beginning, from before we fell. I knew him as well as I knew myself. And for the first time in millennia, he was no longer going to be there.

He turned to look at me, and there was a ghost of a smile in his dark eyes. “How are you and the woman getting along? Are you still fighting your destiny?”

“My destiny? What exactly is my destiny?”

“You’re married to the Source, or will be. It only makes sense that you should be the Alpha as well.”

“No. You’re the Alpha. You always have been.”

“I’ve always been married to the Source, and I suspect you’re not about to hand her over.”

I said nothing. There was nothing I could say.

“Besides,” he added, “I won’t be here.”

I knew there was no arguing him out of that one. “I will serve in your place while you’re gone,” I said. “The moment you return, you get it back.”

He shook his head, his eyes bleak, staring into an empty future. “I may not make it back. The Nephilim are growing stronger, and there’s nothing Uriel would like more than to bring me down.”

“Then why go?”

“I have to.” He looked back out at the boat. “I can’t be here without her, not right now. This will heal, it always does, even if I don’t want it to. But for now I can’t stay in our rooms, sit at our table, be in our house without her.”

I nodded. The loss of a mate was the most devastating thing that could happen to us, and Azazel’s passion for Sarah had been deep and strong. I could only hope he’d survive beyond our safe walls. Walls that were not so safe anymore.

“I understand,” I said.

He glanced at me. “Are you going to be able to watch when the others take the blooding sacrament?” he asked. “You seemed to be having a hard time controlling yourself earlier today. It might be better if you waited until you feed from her. Until you do, your possessive anger will be hard to control.”

“I’ve already fed from her,” I said.

Azazel looked at me. “So soon? You surprise me. I thought you hated her. You certainly fought hard enough to get rid of her.”

“She’s mine,” I said.

He nodded. “I suspected as much. But I should warn you. Even though you’ve fed from her, the first two or three occasions when others take her blood will be hard for you. Gradually you’ll get used to it and see the difference between the sacrament and when you feed. But it will be difficult. Do not let your jealousy get out of control. The woman is besotted with you. Even if she were able to look at other men, she wouldn’t—I’ve known that from the very beginning.”

“Did you know she’d be the Source?”

Darkness shuttered Azazel’s face. “No,” he said. “If I had, I would have killed her.” He rose, and I rose with him, watching as his wings spread out around him. “I haven’t found the traitor. I’d planned to wait until we discovered who let the Nephilim in, but I find I . . . can’t.” He looked toward the funeral boat, and his face was bleak.

“You won’t be here for the ceremony?”

“No.” It was a simple word that conveyed everything. “Good-bye, my brother. Take care of that harridan you brought among us.” And then he left, soaring upward into the night sky.

I watched him until he was out of sight, then sat again, not moving. This was the change I’d felt coming, the end that threatened us all. Azazel had led us from the beginning of time—he’d never left us. I had no gift of prognostication—but even I had known the end of times was upon us. It was no wonder I’d fought it.

Would the Nephilim have broken in if Allie hadn’t been here? Had that been part of Uriel’s plan? Had he known I would hesitate, recognizing her from our earlier meetings? Anything was possible.

There was nothing he wanted more than to distract us from our main goal, and he had succeeded. Lucifer still lay trapped, farther away than ever, and for a long time we would be busy mourning our dead and rebuilding our defenses. The monsters would have broken through sooner or later, but had Allie’s arrival, the fact that she was unquestionably mine, somehow pushed things up? I would never know.

Uriel was winning. I knew it, so did Azazel. It was little wonder he hated Allie. Her arrival had signaled Sarah’s death.

I thought back to the Source, her gentle smile, her wisdom. Allie was a far cry from Sarah’s serenity. I wasn’t even certain she’d agree to the sacrament.

She’d insisted she wasn’t going to provide blood for the Fallen. Once they started to weaken she’d change her mind, of course. Allie wasn’t the kind of woman who’d stand by and let anyone suffer.

Except, perhaps, me, if I annoyed her. I liked peaceful women. Gentle, obedient women whose only reason in life was to love me. Allie was too much of the new world. Already she’d been a pain in the butt, and I knew she’d continue to be. I would have to get used to it.

I should go back, tell the Fallen that Azazel had left us. Most of them would already know—the unspoken bond among all of us was very strong. I could tell them, and then head back upstairs and wrap my body around Allie’s and wake her slowly.

I’d tried to be careful, afraid I’d hurt her. She was small, unused to me, and the thought of causing her pain was enough to slow the raging tide of my hunger for her. But I hadn’t been able to stop, any more than I’d been able to keep from feeding from her. Yet she’d been able to take everything with no more than a slight wince. More proof that she was made for me, when I’d refused to believe it for so long. No ordinary woman could take me as she had, not without pain that would preclude pleasure.

I’d felt her tighten around me in helpless response, felt her give everything to me. She was mine, and I was hers.

I was no longer alone. I turned to see Sammael land beside me, light as ever, his light-brown wings folding down around him. His face was set, emotionless, and I greeted him without rising. He’d lost his mate as well. His grief had to be very deep indeed. So deep that he didn’t allow it to show.

“Azazel has left?” he said.

I had watched over Sammael after he’d fallen. Helped him with the huge adjustments, listened to him, advised him when he’d asked for counsel, stayed with him when the terrors hit him. If Azazel was an older brother, Sammael was a younger one. Someone I protected, guarded against evil.

I looked at Sammael and I saw the emptiness in his eyes. And I knew the truth.

I REACHED OUT FOR RAZIEL, but he was gone. The bed was already cold where he had been, though mostly he’d been on top of and beneath and behind and around me. I should have slept for days after all the things we’d been doing. Instead I was awake and wondering where he was. And when he’d be back, beside me, inside me, again.