“‘Angelic’ and ‘devilish’ are mortal constructs,” Reed pointed out.

“I caught that earlier. Gadara said demons pull their tricks from the same bag as angels. They’re brethren, right? Fruit of the same tree, borne of the same father? It stands to reason that they’d be prone to the same vices, including getting pissed off that they’re denied something through no fault of their own.”

Reed scowled. “Why are we talking about this?”

Eve dropped the badge on her desk and stood. “Because it needs to be talked about. When do the archangels regain full use of their powers?”

“After Armageddon.” Alec’s arms crossed and his stance widened. It was a battle pose, one of readiness.

“So might it be possible that they’d like to hurry that along a bit?” she suggested.

“You’re thinking like a mortal,” Reed bit out.

“News flash: I am a mortal. This mark on my arm isn’t going to change that. Tell me you haven’t thought about the firm leaders playing outside the rules.”

Reed’s brows arched. “I haven’t.”

She rounded on Alec. “I know you have. You don’t like to wear blinders.”

“What are you implying?” Reed snapped.

“Gadara says you’re a company man, Reed. You toe the line.” Eve shrugged. “You want things to be a certain way and that’s the only way you allow yourself to perceive them.”

He took a step closer. “Don’t try to analyze me! If you want to shrink someone’s head, why don’t you try the homicidal maniac you’re fucking?”

“I touched a nerve,” she drawled.

“You’re talking smack. Want me to turn it around and see how you like it?”

“Step off,” Alec warned. “Keep pushing her, and I’ll push you back.”

“Shut up.” Reed’s fists clenched. “If she wants to make wild conspiracy theories, she’ll have to manage the aftermath on her own.”

Eve studied the violence of Reed’s response with a calculating eye. Alec was taking her questions with only minor tension, but Reed was strung tight as a bow. She looked at Alec. “So outside of the Gadara Tower, some of the employees are mortal.”

He nodded.

“And if I flash this badge, they let me in, but they’ll also record that we came by, right? And the company credit card, listening devices, video cameras . . . it’s all cyberstalking in lieu of the divinely powered kind, right?”

“Sure. What are you thinking?”

“Nothing.” Eve stepped around her desk. She’d said enough for the benefit of whoever might be listening through the bugs in her house. The rest she would keep to herself until she felt that she could speak freely. “Let me get ready and we’ll go.”

Reed moved to follow. Alec stepped in his path. “Leave her alone,” he warned.

“I’m doing my job.” Reed’s voice was dangerously soft.

“Relax, Alec,” she admonished.

A low, predatory rumble filled the air. She exited the room with a shake of her head. Those two were going to have to figure out on their own how to work together.

Eve was shutting her bedroom door when it was halted midswing and pushed back in. Reed entered, his gaze sweeping around the room and coming to rest on the bed.

“Feng shui,” he murmured. “There’s at least a little bit of believer in you.”

“What does feng shui have to do with anything?” She watched him close the door, secretly impressed with his observational skills.

“You’re trying to tap into energies you can’t see or prove. Whether you think they come from God or not isn’t as important as the fact that you acknowledge forces outside of yourself.”

“You’re giving me a headache.”

He laughed, the velvet-rough sound flowing over her skin. “You can’t have headaches anymore.”

“That’s what you think.” She went to her closet and pushed the hanging wooden door along its track. It had taken her a long time to find two matching bleached pine panels of suitable size, but the effort was worth it. When she lay in bed, she studied the grain of the wood as she drifted to sleep.

“Listen.” His tone was so grave that it drew her gaze to him again. “When Marks go on the hunt, they change.”

“Change?”

“Their senses hone. You’ll experience a kind of tunnel vision. You see it in felines when they crouch low and prepare to pounce. They’re so absorbed in what they’re doing, they don’t register anything else.”

“I think I caught a bit of that before.”

“You might have. All mentors are specially trained to widen their focus to encompass their charges. Much like using bright headlights versus the regular ones.”

Eve pulled out her most worn pair of jeans. “And Alec hasn’t had this training.”

“Right. He’s really good at what he does, but I’m afraid he’s going to leave you unprotected. You have to be extra vigilant. Somehow, you’re going to have to remind yourself to take in everything.”

“Are you telling me this to make your brother look bad, or are you serious?”

“I only wish I could make up stuff this good.” He leaned back against the door. “You’re going to have to trust me, babe. It’s my job to keep you alive and working off your penance.”

“I wouldn’t say that assigning me to kill things prior to being trained is a good way to keep me breathing,” she said wryly.

The tightening of his jaw was nearly imperceptible, but Eve was looking for it. Gadara was yanking them all around. She knew what leverage he had on Alec—her. But what was Reed getting out of this? Perhaps Gadara was holding something over him, too? It was in her best interests to find out.

Reed’s glance moved back to her beautifully made bed and a smile curved his mouth. “You’re not sleeping with Cain.”

“How would you know?”

“His scent is fainter in here than in the rest of the condo.”

“My mom just washed and made the bed.”

“Uh-huh . . .” He looked at her with dark, slumberous eyes. Reed was like a firecracker, hot and explosive. The part of Eve that craved quiet evenings at home was shocked by how attractive she found that quality.

She turned away, determined to get ready for the task ahead and stop thinking about sex. “Don’t get cocky and think his absence has anything to do with you.”

“It has to do with something. You’ve been thinking about him for ten years, but now that he’s here, you’re keeping him at arm’s distance?”

She thought of the make-out session in the parking garage and smiled. “My personal life is none of your business.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Eventually you might believe it. But it still won’t be true.”

“Whatever. Got anything else for me?”

“Oh yeah, I got something for you, babe. Come and get it.”

“Eww.” Eve tossed an arch glance over her shoulder. “You just crossed the line from arrogant to crass.”

His gaze dropped. “Sorry.”

She sighed. He was faultlessly elegant on the outside, but on the inside . . . The man had some rough edges. Oddly enough, she didn’t want to smooth them away. But she did want to understand them. “Where did that little bit of tastelessness come from?”

Straightening, Reed reached for the doorknob. “Hell if I know,” he muttered, stepping out to the hallway.

The door closed behind him with a quiet click of the latch.

“It’s cold,” Eve muttered, pulling her sweater coat tighter around her.

Alec tossed an arm around her shoulders and bit back the obvious question. It was easily sixty-eight degrees outside, a temperature many individuals would say was balmy. The brisk stride with which they approached their destination would have kept most people warm. Eve’s chill came from somewhere inside her, created by either her changing body or her somber mood—a mood Abel had also carried with him when he’d left the house.

Braced for some type of goading, boastful comment from his brother, Alec had been astonished when Abel simply exited Eve’s bedroom and shifted away without a word. There one second, gone the next. Shifting was a blessing for all angels, except for Alec. He was the only mal’akh to have the gift stripped from him, another example of how he was denied even the basics. He’d been given very few breaks in his life, and now the one thing he cared for was at risk.

Intimacy. He hadn’t been prepared for it to happen between Eve and Abel. Sex was sex. It was nothing compared to the nonphysical intimacy Alec sensed developing between them. Jealousy ate at him. He and Abel had used women to irritate each other in the past, but never had they cared equally about one. It was a threat Alec didn’t know how to manage. After a lifetime of the same old, same old, he was now confronted with too many unknowns.

“It looks different at night,” Eve said softly.

He looked at their destination. Strategically lit with exterior illumination, it appeared stately and established, as if it had existed for decades rather than mere months.

As they neared the front entrance, Alec inhaled deeply. No stench, no infestation. He slowed his pace and gazed up at the gargoyles. From the alley, two were visible and they were both in their positions.

“What’s the matter?” Eve asked, reaching into her pocket for her badge.

“It doesn’t smell, angel.”

Her brow arched. “Not that again.”

“I wanted to believe you.”

She smiled. “I appreciate that.”

Flashing her credentials at the guard, Eve led the way with that kittenish sway to her hips that had once lured him to sin. Who was he kidding? It still lured him to sin.

“Angel.” He whistled after her. “Are you feeling frisky?”

She stopped at the bank of elevators and winked. They were met by a second guard in uniform who told them the elevators weren’t operational yet. They’d have to take the stairs.