Grace and Glory (The Harbinger 3) - Page 69

“You’re beautiful.”

My head jerked up, and I found him staring down at me with a soft, tender pull to his lips. I could feel warmth hitting my cheeks even as I snorted in the most unattractive manner possible. “I’ve seen what I look like right now, and—”

“And you’re even more beautiful than before.” He lifted his hand slowly to my face. His thumb brushed over the curve of my chin. “Each and every bruise is a badge of your strength.”

“There you go again, saying all the right things,” I murmured.

“How is this for not being the right thing to say?” He traced a finger along the line of my cheek, stopping where I knew the skin was still a lovely shade of bluish-purple. “I’m going to hurt Gabriel. Every bruise he left behind, every hurt he inflicted, I will repay tenfold. I want him to be alive and breathing when I strip his flesh from his bones and tear his organs from his body, and then, before he takes his last breath, I want the last thing he sees to be you before you kill him.”

Oh.

Wow.

My heart skipped a beat. Not at the cold promise in his voice that assured he planned to do exactly that or at the violence he wanted to reap, but because he would face Gabriel again. We both would face the archangel, and what if something happened to him? Again? My insides turned cold and panic started to take root. Could I convince Zayne to take a vacay? To sit this out—?

I stopped myself right there as I stared up into his eyes. Every day carried the risk of one of us meeting an untimely demise. That hadn’t changed. If anything, now Zayne would be less easy to kill. That was good news, something I needed to remember, but Zayne hadn’t asked me to sit this out.

Inherently, I knew he wouldn’t.

I also knew I needed Zayne at my side when I faced off with Gabriel, even if Roth and Layla were successful in recruiting Lucifer. And it wasn’t like Zayne would listen to such a request. He hadn’t when I asked him to before, and maybe him charging in when he did, drawn by the pain the bond was feeding him, had played a role that had ultimately led to his death.

I couldn’t ask that Zayne not let guilt get in the way of us living. And I couldn’t let fear do the same.

I wouldn’t.

I took a small breath. “That was also the right thing to say.”

Zayne raised one eyebrow.

I shrugged. “I mean, probably not to most, but I have absolutely no problem with you doing exactly that.”

A faint grin appeared. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you’d say that. You’ve always been bloodthirsty.”

“True,” I said, stepping into the elevator. Though I had to admit that I wouldn’t have thought the Zayne from before would’ve said all of that. Yeah, he would’ve wanted to hurt and kill Gabriel, but the whole stripping the skin and tearing out organs thing? That was different.

As the elevator took us up, I stared at him. With the better lighting, I could see he looked the same.

But not.

“You know, your features are sharper to me, more defined. Like a picture coming into focus in high-res,” I explained. “It’s been like that since you came back.”

He started to respond when I felt the awareness swirl along the nape of my neck. His gaze swung toward the elevator doors as he stepped forward, somewhat blocking me. “There’s a demon near.”

“It’s probably Cayman. He was going to hang out here until he heard from me,” I told him. “You’re bright.”

“What?” Zayne glanced at me as the elevator slowed to a halt.

“Your skin is brighter.” I poked his arm. “It’s like there’s a faint light under your skin, and I think that’s why I can see you better than before.”

His brows rose. “I look like a walking light bulb?”

I grinned. “I don’t think it’s all that noticeable. I mean, if I can see it, I’m sure others can, but I don’t think they’ll be able to put their finger on what it is. They’ll probably think you have a nice, healthy glow.”

He opened his mouth as he turned back to the front of the elevator, his attention focused on the inside of the room as the door opened. Whatever he was about to say was forgotten as the dark-haired demon shimmied into our line of sight. Cayman’s back was to us as his head bopped and his hips swayed. In one hand was a bag of chips and in the other was a can of soda. Music thumped from his earphones in a familiar beat.

Was that... Hey Mama?

Suddenly Cayman bent at the waist. His ass went up in the air and he shook that thing like...like he was getting paid. Good money, too.

Tags: Jennifer L. Armentrout The Harbinger Fantasy
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