“Tell me the message,” he interjected with that same underlying authority.
Her mouth slammed shut, only to reopen as the words were dragged from her throat of their own accord.
“The High Council of Seraph hereby issues the following blood edict to Osiris: Your immoral activities of late are in direct violation with your purpose on this plane. Using your gift for the afterlife to poison the blood of humanity has earned you an additional five millennia of solitude. Leniency may be granted when, and only when, you rid Earth of your abominations. Failure to do so may yield further actions from the council.”
Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, not that it mattered now. That was the entirety of the message, and she’d just delivered it to the wrong being.
“Interesting,” he mused. “Well, you can’t tell him that unless you court death.” He looked her over. “And I certainly hope that’s not the case, gorgeous.” He extended his hand. “I’m Sethios.”
She stared at the masculine fingers as they wiggled tauntingly before her. The act of shaking hands was very human. She ignored his request.
“What are you?” Her demand sounded more like a mumble behind her palm, and probably looked ridiculous.
He grinned. “Tell me your name, and I’ll answer.”
A bizarre agreement, but one she wasn’t averse to. She lowered her hand from her mouth to her lap as he dropped his own to his side. His opposite limb remained along the back of the couch where he continued to brush his fingertips against her shoulder. An odd gesture, to be sure, but not unpleasant.
“Caro,” she said. “Now tell me what you are.”
“Caro,” he repeated. She rather liked the way it sounded from his lips. “I don’t have a type classification, or at least not one that I’ve been told. What do you call the child of a Seraphim and a human?”
“An impossibility,” she replied immediately. “Seraphim only breed with other Seraphim, and only when a progeny is required. Why would one breed with a lowly species?”
“For pleasure?” he suggested.
“Of what kind?”
He seemed to be gaping at her now. “The sexual kind.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, ‘why?’ ” His tone held a note of incredulity that confused her. The answer should be obvious.
“Why would one engage in an act for sexual pleasure? It holds no intrinsic value, nor does it bear credence. Reproduction serves a solitary purpose, and a Seraphim would not choose to breed with a human. The progeny would be most unfruitful.”
He laughed again, sending a tingle down her spine.
Oh, that really is a lovely sound.
“Well, then I suppose that’s my breed. Unfruitful. Thanks for clearing that up, angel.”
“Seraphim,” she corrected. “And you’re welcome, though I’m unclear as to what I’ve improved.”
“Wow.” He shook his head, still laughing. “You’re proving all the rumors true.”
She blinked. “Rumors?”
“About Seraphim,” he explained. At her blank look, he added, “That you’re all coldhearted, stoic beings with no thought or care for humanity.”
Her brow creased. She didn’t much like that definition of her kind. “I prefer intellectual, otherworldly beings with a practical view of the world.”
“Sure, sweetheart. Whatever makes you feel better.”
An odd phrase. “It is not about feelings.”
“Because you’re all unfeeling beings.” He nodded. “Then the rumors are true.”
Her frown deepened. He clearly required more information. “Your generalization is inaccurate. There are those of my kind who do, in fact, embrace emotion out of necessity.” Only because their powers required it, of course. Most Seraphim with powers linked to humanity preferred life among the mortals as well. Caro, however, did not.