It was only when my hand touched him beneath the water, felt him turn and his hand catch mine, that I conveniently remembered that I had never learned to swim.

The words came out of nowhere, dancing in my head:

Full fathom five thy father lies:

Of his bones are coral made;

Those are pearls that were his eyes:

Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange.

The words were muzzy, dreamlike, but now I was the one sinking. What an idiot I’d been, diving after him. I was going to die after all, and it was no one’s fault but mine. I should have known I’d hear Shakespeare when I died.

I would suffer a sea change, entwined with the demon lover beneath the cold salt sea, and I welcomed it, dazed, when his mouth closed over mine beneath the briny surface, his breath flowing into me, my body plastered against his as I felt life return. A moment later I found myself propelled to the surface, still trapped in the dead man’s arms. The dead man who had pulled his mouth away, and was looking down at me from those strange, silvery black eyes.

Then we were standing waist-deep in the ocean, the waves breaking against us, and he was holding on to me as he looked to the men who had brought him here, a dazed, questioning expression on his face.

Which was basically how I was feeling. A sort of a sodden WTF, and the only thing familiar to hold on to was this man beside me.

Which was basically how I was feeling. A sort of a sodden WTF, and the only thing familiar to hold on to was this man beside me.

“She called for help,” one of the men said from the shore. “You told us to bring her.”

The man threw back his head and laughed, unexpected and unguarded, and relief washed through me. His teeth were white and even. I’d been imagining the fangs, of course. Vampires weren’t real. I couldn’t believe I even remembered that particular hallucination.

He scooped me up in his arms, and I rested my face against his wet chest as he carried me out of the surf, not quite sure why. The footing must have been uneven, yet he carried me without a misstep, almost gliding over the rough sand. I’d never been carried in my life—despite my short stature I was built upon generous lines, and no one had ever been romantic enough to scoop me up and carry me to bed.

Of course, that wasn’t what this man was doing. Come to think of it, what the hell was he doing? I looked up at a huge stone building set on the edge of the sea, and I squirmed, trying to get down. He ignored me. That, at least, felt familiar.

He didn’t put me down, and I found I knew him well enough not to expect that he would. He’d kissed me. Sort of. He’d put his cold, wet mouth on mine and breathed life into me, when he was the one who’d been on the verge of death.

“You wanna put me down?” I demanded in a reasonable voice. Not that I expected him to be reasonable, but it was worth a try. He said nothing, and I struggled, but his grip never tightened. It didn’t need to; it was loose but unbreakable. “Who the fuck are you?” I demanded irritably. “What are you?”

He didn’t answer, of course. The other men came up to us, and I had the oddest sense that they were surrounded by some kind of haze or aura. It must be a reaction to the salt water. No matter how hard I tried to focus, things stayed as hazy as my memory.

“We can get rid of her now, Raziel, before it’s too late,” one with a cold, deep voice said. “She has no more need of you, nor you of her.”

The language sounded oddly old-fashioned, and I tried to turn my head to see who was speaking; but Raziel, the man who was holding me, simply pushed my face against his chest. “What about the Grace? Surely that would work.”

There was a moment’s silence, one that didn’t seem to bode well for my future. With my foggy brain, he was the only thing familiar, and I panicked, reaching up and tugging at his open shirt. “Don’t let them take me.” I sounded pathetic, but there was nothing I could do about it. I’d swallowed some salt water before Raziel grabbed me, and my voice was raw.

He glanced down at me, and I knew that look. It was as if he knew everything about me, had read my diaries, peeked into my fantasies. It was unnerving. But then he nodded.

“I will keep her, Azazel,” he said. “At least for now.”

Better than nothing, I thought, not precisely flattered. I was tempted to argue, just for the sake of it and because he’d sounded so damned grudging, but I had no idea where I might go, and I didn’t trust those other men who’d tried to drown my companion.

At least for the moment, as long as he held me, nothing could harm me. I could deal with the rest of it when it happened.

For now, I was safe.

CHAPTER SIX

HAD I LOST MY MIND? “I WILL keep her.” Ridiculous. I had no use for a human.

It was early evening. I’d spent most of the day in the pool, letting the seawater wash my battered body, healing the pain that still spiked through me.

Azazel was looking at me. “What are we going to do with the woman? Now is not the time to bring someone new into Sheol, particularly someone with no set purpose. Uriel moves closer, and the Nephilim are at our very doorstep. We can’t waste time with inconsequentials.”

“Where is she?” I said, stalling for time, my voice cool as I stretched out on the black leather sofa. The searing agony was gone, but my body ached as if I had run a marathon and then been trampled by a herd of goats.

“Sarah has her. She and the other women will take care of her, calm her fears.”

“Will they tell her the truth?” I wasn’t sure that was a good idea. The woman was smart, fearless, and just the kind of woman to fight the status quo. The kind of woman who would drive me to insanity and beyond with her ways.

“She probably knows already. At least part of it. What she remembers, that is,” Azazel said in the icy voice that terrified most of our brethren and managed to roll off my back. We’d been through too much together for him to intimidate me.

“We can always make her forget,” I said. “She has been with me so long the Grace would have to be very strong. She’d be confused for weeks. But it would work. She’s already forgotten what happened when I first took her.”

“But where will she go, old friend? She died yesterday. Her body has already been cremated.”

“Shit,” I said, thoroughly annoyed. “I thought she was Jewish.”

“You know that some of them no longer follow the old ways.”

Typical of humankind. They were always so hypocritical when it came to their faith, choosing what they cared to follow, ignoring anything that was inconvenient. It was little wonder the Supreme Being had washed his hands of them, leaving a heartless bastard like Uriel in his place. “If they are going to be devout enough to bury her immediately, they should at least keep her body intact,” I said, trying not to growl. “We could have worked with that.”