Page 113 of Wicked Bonds
Her shoulders stiffened at the name.They’re—
“Shh,” Balthazar hushed again, his fingertip tracing her jaw once more. “We’re safe, Lee. Patreel only wants to talk. And he’s very much alone.”
But he couldn’t know that for sure because he couldn’t see the Seraphim.
She tried to rip her gaze from his, to search the night for any others, but his fingers caught her chin and forced her to remain focused on him. “We’re safe, Lee,” he repeated for the thousandth time.
“Stop telling me that. If Patreel is here, we’re not safe.”
“If I wanted to take you back to your reformation chamber, I would have done so already,” a dark voice said, infiltrating her calm.
She immediately froze.
But Balthazar’s touch warmed her in the next breath, his arms encircling her protectively as he pressed his lips to her ear again. “I’m here, Lee. I have you. Trust me.”
This could be a trap.
“It’s not,” he replied. “Patreel wants to tell us the truth about these memories. He drew a rune on his arm to grant me temporary access to his mind. Just like I can read yours. He’s telling the truth.”
She startled, her eyes rounding.You can read his mind?
He nodded. “He’s been assigned to you for over three thousand years. Since we first met. Here. In Bulgaria.”
What?She blinked at him.I… I don’t…
“Tell her,” Balthazar said, his gaze not leaving hers. “Tell her what you’ve told me.”
“You were only about five hundred years old when your mother sent you to live among humans to perfect your fertility powers. She sent you here. To Bulgaria. To the very brothel Balthazar had been born in. It’s how you met.”
She tried to glance at him, but Balthazar kept hold of her chin. She swallowed, her heart starting to beat a little faster again.
“He was in his early twenties. You… fornicated.”
Balthazar snorted at the term but didn’t otherwise interrupt.
“Your mother sent Melanythos to monitor the situation, as she knew the impact mortals could have on your abilities,” he continued. “She didn’t want to risk anything jeopardizing your procreation appointment with Dian.”
Ice drizzled through Leela’s veins.
Dian.
Seraphim of Death and Destruction.
Procreation.
A violent shiver trekked down her spine, but she was too cold to truly feel it.
Reformation. Reformation. Reformation.
“Leela,” Balthazar said, interrupting Patreel. He’d still been talking, but his words had resembled a buzz around her ears. She couldn’t hear them. Didn’twantto hear them. “I have you. I’m right here.” Balthazar cupped her cheek again, his thumb tracing her cheekbone.
Feathers, she felt sochildlike.
Alone.
Frozen.
Reformation.
