That was all Michael needed to say. Reaver stepped back from Gethel, and when the fallen angels tried to rush to her, he knocked them back with an invisible barrier formed by his thoughts.

Revenant tackled him like a linebacker, slamming them both into the ground. Pain streaked through Reaver’s shoulder, but he healed in a heartbeat and used his freshly healed arm to punch his brother in the face.

Blood spurted from Rev’s nose, but as with Reaver, the injury healed instantaneously, disappearing even the blood.

They rolled around on the packed earth, trading punches in a fight that was far more personal than using special powers would have allowed. For all the amazing upgrades they’d been given, there was nothing more satisfying than a good old-fashioned brawl between brothers.

Through the sound of flesh striking flesh, growls, and curses, Reaver heard Gethel scream. Heard the sickening crunch of wings being separated from her body.

And then, as if a veil had been lifted. Revenant was gone. All the fallen angels were gone. Team Evil had collected its prize and left, leaving Reaver with Metatron and his colleagues.

Shaking his head, Reaver cleaned himself of the blood, dirt, and injuries, and came to his feet.

“I’ll be damned,” Metatron murmured, his gaze fixed on the set of bloody wings lying on the ground, the dull, frayed feathers ruffling in the hot breeze.

“What happened?”

“Harvester figured it out.” Michael made the scythes disappear. “Lucifer’s birth was all about the vessel. In order to be reborn with even greater powers than he had before, the vessel carrying him needed to be someone pure and holy, but who fell from grace.” Everyone gave him blank stares. “Fell from grace,” he prompted. “But not fell from Heaven.”

Of course! Reaver damned near conked himself on the head. “Gethel wasn’t fallen, so she still counted as pure and holy despite all her vile actions.”

Michael nodded. “Harvester realized that if we gave Gethel an official boot out of Heaven, she would no longer be fit to give birth to a fully formed, adult Lucifer.”

“Clever,” Metatron mused. “She’s still pregnant with Lucifer, but he’s been downgraded. We still have time to kill him, but even if we don’t, his birth isn’t going to cause cataclysmic destruction.”

Reaver grinned. “So Harvester stopped the war and saved Heaven. Not bad for an angel you all wanted to let rot in Satan’s prison.”

That earned him a lot of scowls and a few insults, all of which he ignored. The fact that he was more powerful by far than any of them except Metatron made him feel extraordinarily magnanimous.

Michael, who Reaver had always thought was a bit of a dick, strode over. And held out his hand. Wary, Reaver took it, but the archangel merely clasped their hands together as he leaned in.

“I’ve judged you harshly. Deservedly so,” he added. Of course. “But you’ve proven yourself. You and Harvester are meant for each other.” His voice dipped low. “You should hurry.”

Reaver’s breath clogged in his throat. Harvester was with Raphael. Right now. Was it too late?

Heart pounding, Reaver spread his wings. “I’m out of here. Send me your thanks for grabbing Gethel and helping to end the war later.”

“You started it, you arrogant ass!” Uriel shouted.

“Right. Forgot.” Reaver shrugged. “You never thanked me for the last time. I’ll take your apologies later.”

He left them open-mouthed and fury-faced. All except Metatron, whose laughter followed Reaver all the way to Heaven.

Thirty-Four

Harvester once again entered Raphael’s home high in the Covenant mountains that stretched across the endless outer regions of Heaven. It always surprised newcomers that Heaven wasn’t composed of clouds and golden gates. It resembled Earth. Except cleaner. With no biting insects, venomous reptiles, or allergy-inducing pollen. And even in the snow and the desert, there was no uncomfortable cold or heat.

He was waiting for her in the bedroom.

Stomach churning, she walked inside.

“Look at you,” he said. “How many layers of clothing do you have on?”

About a million. She’d taken her time getting ready for this, which included crying, showering, and crying some more. Getting dressed had been a major ordeal, but she had to admit that she’d smiled when she’d put on the ugly pink underwear and bra Reaver had gotten for her. It would be a silent defiance, but she’d love that Raphael would be forced to remove something that belonged to Reaver.

Leggings and a tank top had followed, then sweats, then a robe. But with the way Raphael was undressing her with his eyes, she wished she’d put on armor, too. And a chastity belt.

The cock-severing chastity belt Limos had been forced to wear when she’d been betrothed to Satan would be perfect.

For his part, Raphael was wearing only a pair of crimson silk lounge pants, and she had a sneaky suspicion he was commando underneath.

“Let’s just do this,” she ground out.

“So eager.” He smiled, but it wasn’t a nice one. “I’d think you’d be worn out from your earlier activities with Reaver.” He moved toward her, his predatory intent clear. “That ends now. If he so much as kisses you, I’ll destroy him.”

She hissed. “I’m coming to you because we had a bargain, and this is for Limos. But if you ever lay finger on Reaver, know that you will have to take me by force for the rest of my life.”

Reaching out, he hooked his arm around her waist and tugged her against him. “Oh, I don’t think so.” He nuzzled her ear, and it took everything she had to not recoil. “Once you’ve had me, you’ll beg to join me in my bed.”

What. A. Douche. “My loins are aquiver with anticipation.”

His tongue traced the shell of her ear as he guided them toward the massive bed in the center of the room. With every step, her heart sank and her gut twisted, and a bleak, wintery feeling washed through her.

Over the thousands of years she’d been a fallen angel, she’d had to bed some extremely unpleasant males, and she’d learned to cope, usually by playing a role that allowed her to separate herself from her actions. But she couldn’t do that with Raphael. She didn’t think she could ever do it again.

Not when Reaver was the one on her mind and in her heart. Just like when she’d lost her wings, she knew this had to happen. But it felt like the worst betrayal she could imagine, and she wondered what would be left of her when it was done.

Raphael’s hand slipped between them to cup her breast, and a sob wedged in her throat. Panic closed around her like shrink-wrap. Blindly, without thinking, she shoved against him with all her strength. He released her and she stumbled backward, her breaths coming in ragged gulps.

Anger twisted Raphael’s beautiful face into something dark and terrible. “How could you have lain with demons and animals, and yet, you find me repulsive?”

Animals? He thought she’d slept with animals? It took her a moment of thinking through her panic attack to realize he meant shapeshifters and weres. Angels had never considered human-animal hybrids to be anything other than abominations.

“I find you repulsive,” she ground out, “because you’re holding lives over my head.”

He snorted. “And no demon has ever done that to you?”

“Of course they have,” she shot back. “But they’re demons. It’s what they do. You?” She looked at him with loathing. “You think you’re superior, but ultimately, you’re worse. I don’t know what happened to you while I was gone, but you’re not the male I remember.” She moved closer to him, not wanting to miss every emotion play out on his handsome face. “I’ve f**ked demons who were less disgusting than you.”

Thank you for that one, Yenrieth.

Raphael’s fury rose up, becoming a tangible storm in the room. Electricity sizzled on the surface of his skin, little streaks of lightning that made him glow like someone had plugged him into a wall outlet.

“You are what happened.” His voice warped with the force of his anger, and an icy tremor of fear rippled down her spine. “You should have been mine a long time ago.”

Damn, she’d screwed up by taunting him. This wasn’t about her, and she needed to remember that. This was about keeping a promise and giving Limos back her baby.

Suck it up. Apologize. Give him the best damned night of his life, even if you have to throw up afterward.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was halting, stale. Apologies had never been something she’d offered easily, and if she’d said those two words more than a dozen times in the last five thousand years, she’d be shocked. “I’m just… nervous.” She fluttered her eyelashes and played contrite and cowed.

His expression softened. “Understandable. It’s your first time with an archangel.”

Oh, gag. How could he walk around with a head that big and not lose his balance? “Yes.” She forced a smile. “That’s it.”

He returned the smile. “Come here.” When she hesitated, only for a heartbeat, he repeated his command, but this time with a sharp edge. “Come. Here.” He snapped his fingers, and suddenly, she was standing in front of him.

Wearing only her bra and underwear.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled. A rumble came up from his chest, and he lifted his lids. The crystal blue of his eyes was stained by angry crimson flecks.

“I can smell him on you.”

“Not on me.” She lifted chin and met his gaze with defiance that flew in the face of the apology she’d just offered. But dammit, she wasn’t going to apologize for being with Reaver. “In me.”

“I will erase him.” The dark, dangerous tone in his voice accompanied a menacing step into her.

His intent was clear, and she felt herself slide into acceptance. This was it. She’d given herself over to Sheoul once, knowing she was condemning herself to an eternity of absolute hell.

Somehow, this was harder.

Raphael wrapped his fist in her hair and yanked her head back. She closed her eyes so he wouldn’t see how much she despised him as he slanted his mouth over hers.

“Raphael.” The impossibly deep voice rattled the entire room and made every organ in Harvester’s body quiver with raw terror. “Release her. Now.”

An invisible, electric force pulled them apart. Raphael flew backward, crashing into a marble table that held what was likely a priceless Chinese vase.

Priceless before it shattered on the floor.

Harvester spun toward the newcomer, her initial terror turning to shock at the sight of the male filling the room with the sheer force of his presence.

“R-Reaver?”

He sauntered over to Raphael, who was sitting, stunned, in the splintered remains of his vase. Power, as potent as the sun, radiated from Reaver. With a flick of one finger, he lifted Raphael off the ground and suspended him in the air.

“I could have handed you over to Satan.” Reaver flared his wings, and Harvester gaped. Gold. They were… gold. Never before had she seen such a thing, but she knew angelic history the same as everyone else.

Only Radiants possessed gold wings.

Dark spots appeared before her eyes, and she swayed. In an instant, Reaver caught her, lifting her into his arms and holding her protectively against him. Still, his gaze was locked on Raphael.

“Obviously,” he told Raphael, “I didn’t betray you.”

Raphael swallowed, and the sound echoed as if they were in a canyon. “I didn’t destroy you. I could have, but I didn’t.”

“Actually,” Reaver drawled, “you couldn’t have. But that’s not important. What’s important is that I can destroy you. It would be wise to keep that in mind.” Very gently, Reaver put Harvester down and eyed her clothing. Or lack thereof. “You’re wearing my lingerie for him?”

She shrugged. “I believe in subtle protests.”

His lips twitched. “You’ve never been subtle in your life.”

“Yes, well—” She broke off with a gasp. “You have your memory back.”

“I do. I’m not sure it’s a good thing, but it gives me a starting point for making amends. To you, especially.”

He waved his hand, and suddenly she was clad in a slinky black dress and knee-high leather boots. A sensual breeze blew up her skirt and between her thighs, and wow, the naughty boy had outfitted her with crotchless underwear as well.

“That’s better,” Reaver said. He turned to Raphael. “As for you, I don’t owe you jack shit. But I’ll be the bigger angel and forgive you for having me tortured. I’ll also give you the courtesy of a warning.” Raphael dropped to the ground in an ungainly heap. “Touch Harvester again, and I’ll castrate you. She’s mine. She can’t break the deal she made with you, but I can.”

Harvester’s heart soared. Reaver had offered to castrate an archangel for her. How sweet was that? As Yenrieth he’d only brought her flowers and honey cakes. Oh, yes, she liked the way Reaver rolled.

Raphael settled himself on his knees and bowed his head. “She’s yours.”

“Yes,” Reaver said roughly, as he hooked her around the waist and tugged her close. “She is.”

Reaver flashed Harvester from Raphael’s obnoxiously opulent mansion to Limos’s place, popping right into the living room. They didn’t have much time to spare, and he wasn’t going to waste a second. Harvester had a million questions, he knew, but they’d have to wait. After they were done here, he’d explain everything.