Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Right then, the elevator’s metal doors slid open with a ding.
They stepped inside. Konstantin smoothly joined them and jabbed the “up” button.
Have you heard anything more from Stefan? Naomi asked Tobe as they began to ascend.
Leaning back against the wall, he folded his arms. Nope. Haven’t seen him loitering around either. I’m hoping that he’s decided to let it go, but he’s stubborn. Kind of like Iain.
I don’t think I have to worry that Iain will start being stalkerish again.
Considering he spent time in Belinsky’s underground chamber of horrors, I’m not surprised he’s happy to leave you be, Tobe jibed.
Naomi rolled her eyes. “He has a first name, you know.”
“I do know.”
“It wouldn’t kill you to use it.”
“I know that, too.”
“Or to be nice—that costs literally nothing.”
Impatience moved across Tobe’s face. “Hey, have I broken into his house? No. Have I set him on fire? No. Have I hotwired his car and taken it for a joy ride? No.”
“Those things really aren’t a reason for me to pat you on the back. Fact is that you naturally shouldn’t do those things.”
“Whatever.”
She exchanged an amused look with Konstantin.
Finally the elevator came to a halt. The three of them piled out of it, exited the club, and headed for the parking lot.
As Tobe walked her to her car, she said, “Thank you for lunch.”
“We should do it more often.” He gave her a pointed look.
Naomi poked his shoulder. “We had lunch on Wednesday. Stop being a diva.” Ignoring his unintelligible mumble, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Take care.”
“You too.” He gave her a brief hug and then headed for his motorcycle.
Spotting Konstantin approaching his own car, Naomi gave him a little wave before sliding into her vehicle. She placed her purse on the passenger seat and then clicked on her belt, grimacing as the damn thing put pressure on her still-bloated stomach.
Hearing her phone beep, she plucked it out of her purse. It was a text from Ella: You free on Thursday? Me and my sister go to a pool hall every Friday, but we’re going Thursday this week. I want to introduce you to her and I figured it might be fun if you come with us.
Feeling her lips curve, Naomi replied, I’m up for it. Just let me know exactly where and what time.
Ella’s response came fast: Awesome. We usually meet there around 6.30. She added the address of the pool hall and then See you there.
Placing her cell back in her purse, Naomi heard Tobe’s bike disappear with a loud rumble. She inserted her key into the car ignition and switched on the engine. Or tried. It only sputtered.
She tried again. Another sputter.
Frowning, she cocked her head. And heard a low, ominous rhythmic beeping. Her stomach took a nosedive. Fuck.
From the dark pockets of shadow beyond the parking lot, Jonah pressed his thumb down on his cell phone screen, and two cars exploded. He smiled, satisfied.
The devil’s whore and her protector were now dead. Lucifer’s plan had been foiled. The child would never be born.
And the monkhood would not perish.
“It is done,” he said to his brothers, lifting his chin.
“So it is,” agreed Henry flatly, staring at the flaming vehicles in the lot.
Jonah frowned. “You should be happy.”
“I still do not like that we used bombs. That is not our way.”
“Kushiel was clear that it was the only way,” Oslo cut in, ever the peacemaker.
Henry’s brow inched up. “If it was the only way, why didn’t he suggest it at the beginning? And since when would God wish for us to use terrorist methods?”
Duncan’s lips thinned. “It is not our place to question an angel. He is a messenger of God. Yet you persist in doing so. It is no better than blasphemy.”
“I didn’t initially question him,” Henry defended. “But he has . . . changed.” His gaze swept over each of the other brethren. “Is there not one of you here who agrees that Kushiel is not always so angel-like anymore?”
Some responded with only a stubborn look. Idris and Van, however, shifted uneasily while Griff and Magnus exchanged a brief glance.
Jonah himself was uncomfortable. Because the truth was that, yes, Kushiel was indeed somewhat different from when he’d first come to them many months ago.
The angel was still intense. Still wore an ethereal glow. Still carried an aura of power. But he no longer emitted peace and serenity. No longer exuded a calm presence that put the brothers at ease and made them feel close to God.
“The way he speaks to us now,” Henry began, “as if we are servants to be ordered about and beneath his contempt—”
“But we are servants,” Maynard interjected. “God’s servants. Kushiel is his voice; issues his commands.”
“Does he really?” Henry drawled, a hint of challenge in his voice. “Or are those commands his own?”