The lights blinded her, so she kept her focus on the silver pole in the middle of the stage. Her hands gripped it loosely as she swayed and moved her body in a slow erotic wave to the rhythm of the music. Her small feet were perched atop a pair of sky-high glass heels that blinked psychedelic colors within, and reflected prettily off the glossy black floor of the stage.

Rayne let her head fall back, her long black ponytail brushing against her ass. She wore a tiny crystal covered thong that barely contained the slit of her sex.

Angel Of Retribution’s haunting melody echoed throughout the strip club. Midnight Rose railed about being lost, having no home, no love, wandering endlessly.

Rayne could relate.

Born in a society where women were nothing, she was trained to be little more than a whore and a slave. Her life was endless misery. Only once did she know hope, joy, warmth.

His lips had been petal soft, sweet. The heat of his kiss had melted the cold grip of death from her frigid body.

Rayne had opened her eyes to the sight of an angel standing over her. The rays of the sun lit his blond hair from behind, trails of thick, glorious ribbons of multifaceted gold framed a face of utter beauty.

She’d been rendered mute, her eyes taking in the up-slanted ice blue of his eyes, his pert, upturned nose, lush lips smiling at her.

“My very own sleeping beauty,” he’d said, a voice so deep it sent a shiver through her.

His skin was sun-kissed gold, meaty pecs on full display between ropey arms bulging with strength and an abdomen rippling with tight hard muscles. His shoulders flexed and enormous red wings, like dragons wings twitched behind him as he bent to her again.

He kissed her again, filling her mouth with his tongue, claiming her once more.

Rayne had clung to him, starved for affection, which he gave to her in abundance, as if he too were starved for it.

“My princess,” he choked on a barely repressed sob.

“Master,” she sighed.

Her heel sank onto something soft and she was jostled into the present.

A roar of pain and rage startled her and heat blazed on her thigh.

Rayne blinked, stuttering to a halt in her dance as she clutched her bleeding thigh.

A hideous alien jumped up onto the stage before her, claw raised, ready to strike. He was huge, his paw bigger than her entire head. It sported a red pin-prick of a mark. She realized she must’ve stepped on his hand during her dance as she day-dreamed of her beautiful Master… the Master who’d abandoned her on Arboria.

Her throat thickened in sorrow once more, but it didn’t matter, as soon the enraged alien before her would put an end to her pitiful existence. Her only regret? That she would never see Master Lucien again.

Rayne closed her eyes as the paw came toward her, claws exposed.

Something bumped into her and she stumbled back, her eyes opening on a gasp. People screamed as she saw a strange white-haired creature ride the alien off the edge of the stage. Blood spurted everywhere as whatever had saved her last second tore the alien’s throat out.

The creature hissed and stood over its kill, defying anyone to come near.

When no one else made a move toward it, the creature spun and leapt toward her.

Rayne stood completely still as she took in the shiny silver mask and tattered gladiators suit the creature wore.

His white hair was a tangled mess around his shoulders. She really had no inkling as to whether or not the creature was male. His body remained concealed at all times with a dirty old gladiators suit and a silver mask covered everything except his mouth. She called him Boy Rayne because of what was on his ripped suit, 30YR4YN.

She’d tried to befriend him, offered him part of her food rations, but he’d always been aloof.

Now, he swept her up in his arms and carried her up. With a mighty leap, Boy jumped to the catwalks overhead. She clung to him as he ran along the metal walkways. He didn’t stop until he carried her to his lair.

Rayne shivered as he lay her down in a nest of blankets. She was already trembling, not from cold or fright. She eyed her damaged leg. The blood continued to run from four jagged gashes. It burned. Most likely poisoned.

Boy gripped her thigh with his hand. She blinked in dismay when she noticed he was missing three fingers, and his other arm ended in a stump. Unaware of her horror struck gaze, he bent and put his mouth over her wounds. He began to suck at the blood.

Rayne moaned, falling back as the pain in her leg increased. Was he going to eat her? She could feel his sharp fangs as he sucked the wound.

Her vision swam and she struggled to breathe.

Boy began to snarl.

“Easy there, kitty cat,” she heard Yourko, the owner of the club say. “You two are in a mess now.”

Boy snarled louder.

Rayne blinked the dark shadows clouding her vision, but the coldness in her body stole higher up her body. She was loosing consciousness.

“King Dred’s men are demanding I hand her over because of what you did.” Boy snarled louder this time. Yourko sighed. “I don’t want to, Kitty cat, but if I don’t they’ll torch the whole place and kill everyone inside.”

Rayne thought of the hundreds of dancers Yourko had given refuge to, even Boy Rayne, who’d been left in the spaceport hangar on the brink of death by his previous owners.

She wasn’t worth anything, not enough to merit the deaths of hundreds of other people on her account.

“L-let me go—“ she breathed out just before darkness claimed her.


Chapter One

The grass whispered against his legs. It was waist high, yellowed, and brittle from lack of moisture. The sun baked his head, and a little drop of sweat made its way down his back. Lucien listened closely to the silence of death all around him. The trees were black, knotted bare limbs twisting up to the cloudless sky. The hot breeze blew strands of his hair across his face as he blinked at the desolation around him.

Why am I here?— he thought to himself.

He turned slowly and looked over to where the mansion should have been standing.

To the normal observer, this was just an empty lot with an enormous sinkhole.

Whispering under his breath, he removed the spell that kept the old house hidden from view.

The sinkhole churned as the house rose from its bowels. Thick, thorny branches covered most of it. How much time had gone by? Was this a dream? Would he find the rotting corpse of his stepfather still inside?

Lucien looked down at himself and grimaced. A loose fitting white robe draped his body. Despite being naked underneath, he tore the offending garment off, and slammed it to the ground.

Ancient words spilled from his lips, words of hate and loathing. The white robe lifted up slowly, and burst into flames. The white-hot fire rendered the garment to dust.

Lucien watched the ashes float away as he panted from rage.

Clenching his jaw, he snapped his gaze back to the house and stalked toward it. It was once a regal monstrosity of deep red brick and black wrought iron. The brick was beginning to crumble with age and the iron had rusted into near nothingness.

Thorns crisscrossed the stone walkway, but with a wave of his hand, a path opened up for his bare feet. The sound of creaking, snapping, crackling branches preceded him until he stood before the large wooden double doors of Blackhorn Hall.

The wind moaned around him. He hoped it was Malvano’s wretched soul screaming for release from Hell. The doors creaked open and the cold air from within the mansion brought with it the stench of death.

Tipping his nose higher, Lucien entered. Last time he’d stood in this foyer, he’d held Lucifer’s sword in his left hand and a smaller dagger dripping with Malvano’s blood in his right. The mosaic floor no longer shone like glass and the chandelier hanging overhead from the vaulted ceiling was swathed in dusty white cobwebs. The webbing also covered the grand staircase, dimly lit by light filtering through the vine-covered stained glass window on the second floor landing.

Narrowing his eyes, he turned left and entered the great room. The grand piano still stood in the corner, its once gleaming black surface now buried under layers of filth. The rich velvet couches were also covered in a thick layer of dust, making the rich burgundy material look faded and worn. What little sunlight managed to penetrate the grimy mildew covered windows made the floating dust sparkle like pixie dust. Regardless, Lucien knew very well he was in no enchanted castle, but rather a cursed one…one he’d cursed himself many years ago.

With determined steps, he veered right and walked into the study.

Everything was as he remembered. To his left was a large ornately carved desk with a cobweb covered leather chair behind it. A wall of shelves was the desk’s backdrop, full of expensive tomes, some rare first editions, all in various states of rot. To his right was a glass wall that showed the gardens, fountains, and pool, devoid of water but full of debris.

None of that held his attention. His eyes were riveted to the enormous fireplace before him and the wingchair before it.

Slowly he approached, circling until he stood before the remains of his stepfather. There was nothing left, just tattered remains of his burgundy robe and slippers. The glass of cognac he’d been drinking still lay on its side on the dusty rug.

The memories were still clear as if it happened yesterday. It had been Lucien’s eighteenth birthday. Malvano had celebrated it by whipping him to the brink of death and then having his cult friends form a line to sodomize him on Malvano’s brand new spanking bench, to which Lucien had been tied.

That night a devil appeared to him and gave him the opportunity to show his stepfather his appreciation. He slit the bastard’s throat.

A soft whining sound drew his attention.

Chewie?

His stepfather had killed the puppy when Lucien was a little boy.

He ran his fingers through his long hair with a frown and waited. When the soft whining came again he took a step forward and out through the broken glass doors to the gardens.

He breathed deeply through his lips as his bare feet stepped on sharp pebbles. Using his telekinetic abilities, he parted the swaying grass, scanning the ground for any signs of his long lost dog.

It’s just a dream. Just another fucking dream. This isn’t real. Not real. Not…

He frowned when his feet sank into something warm and wet. He stared at the blood welling up between his toes. The stench of iron it gave off nauseated him. There was so much…too much. A sob lodged in his throat. Memories of Chewie’s tender throat being slit crowded his mind. He blinked back the tears that threatened to spill.

“It’s just a fucking dream, moron,” he told himself through clenched teeth.

The breeze blew his hair over his face again. Some of it got in his mouth when he took another bracing gulp of air. Raking trembling fingers through his blond hair, he strode forward. Blood squished beneath his steps. He stopped abruptly when he came upon a blood-soaked foot. It lay on its side, pale white streaked in red. It was large foot, though not as big as his, and finely boned. He couldn’t decide if it belonged to a man or a woman. Moving the grass apart, he found that foot attached to a leg. There was another pair of legs twined around it, with smaller daintier feet.

Lucien frowned, and knelt to get a closer look. Two bodies, naked and wrapped around each other. They looked as if they had been trying to protect one another. One had long jet-black tresses, the other a mane of iridescent white hair. Two females? He couldn’t tell. There was too much grass in the way.

Just as he reached for them, brutal fingers gripped his hair, yanking his head back painfully. The sun blinded him.

“Luke, my son,” said a low rasping voice behind him.

The smell of rotted flesh had visions of squirmy little maggots filling Lucien’s mind. It was his stepfather - back from Hell.

Lucien screamed and thrashed against the fist holding his hair tight. To his shock, he found his hands bound behind his back. Confused and terrified, he opened his mouth again only to have it filled with a peanut butter, jelly, and banana sandwich. He couldn’t breathe and tried to spit it out.

“You’re supposed to feed him not kill him, asshole.”

“He won’t chew.”

Lucien coughed, blinking tearing eyes at the two male reapers standing before him. Alpha 7’s envirolevel came into sharp focus. He wasn’t in the garden behind his stepfather’s mansion back on Earth after all.

Another reaper stepped out from behind him, the one holding his hair.

The fucker snorted, yanked Lucien’s head down, and then proceeded to smack his back hard enough to jostle his lungs.

The gob of peanut butter, jelly, and banana shot to the ground followed by a trail of spit and puke.

Lucien grimaced when his stupid hair slid forward into the mess.

The reaper let him go.

Still coughing, he lifted his head and fixed them with a murderous glare until a girl reaper stepped forward.

“What are you doing?” she scolded the others. “I said I would feed him.”

“I thought Ashriel banned you from coming near him?” A blond male grinned.

She sniffed disdainfully and snatched the sandwich from his hands. “Get out of my way, Abdiel.”

Lucien watched her approach him. She was tall, athletic, beautiful. Her long golden brown hair was braided in a thick tail that fell to her waist. Since everyone went sky clad in the envirolevel, his eyes focused on the full mounds of tits swaying as she came closer. Her nipples were peaked tight and her pussy was tiny and hairless between her muscular thighs.

“Hey,” she smiled kneeling before him.

“Amadashiel, don’t get too close,” a dark-haired reaper admonished.

She ignored him. “You look like you need a shave, gorgeous.” Her fingernails scraped against the thick stubble on his jaw. He wasn’t like his baby-faced brother, Devon, who had no facial hair. Lucien was more like his Edenian mother, Luciel. He grew hair everywhere…and it was all pale blond.

He swallowed hard when her fingers trailed down his throat and the middle of his chest heading right for his cock,

“Amadashiel, don’t touch him.”

Lucien smirked at the angry-faced reaper with the black hair. When Amadashiel finally wrapped her soft hand around his shaft, he lifted his hips with a moan and pumped.

Fuck. That felt good.

“Ama,” the reaper snarled, yanking her up roughly.

She tore her arm from his grip and glared. “Reiven, what is your problem?”

“You are,” he spat, going nose to nose with her.

“Easy, ladies,” Lucien drawled lazily. “There’s plenty of cock to go round.”

The male reaper rounded on him and he had to cringe when Reiven leaned down, sneering. “Really? Last I heard, you’re terrified of men.”

Lucien scoffed. “Not terrified, jackass. Hate.” Just for shits and giggles, he spit the angry reaper in the face and laughed out loud at the death angel’s shocked expression.

Reiven backhanded him, sending Lucien to the leaf covered ground with the taste of blood in his mouth.

“Stop.”

Lucien blinked and shook his hair out of his face. Devon and Angel stood between him and the reapers.

“What the hell is going on? You’re not supposed to mistreat him,” Devon yelled.

Devon yelling?

It was almost laughable. His wimp of a brother was finally growing a pair of balls?

Meanwhile, Angel was untying his hands. Lucien shook them, opening and closing his fists as blood rushed back in.

Angel came around before him, brushing back his hair, looking into his face with concern. Her fingers touched the corner of his lip.

“You’re bleeding.”

Her voice was still soft, sweet, innocent. Her mane of white blond hair barely covered her breasts. They’d gotten bigger after having a baby, and her hips more rounded, but she still looked like the proverbially virgin from the Garden of Eden.

“Well, then you need to kiss it better,” he whispered moving against her.

His hand cupped the back of her skull as he sealed his lips over hers. No hesitation at all, he plunged his tongue into her mouth, fucking that sweet little orifice thoroughly.

She pushed him away angrily and stood.

“You haven’t changed,” she sneered.

Lucien grinned up at them all. “Of course I have. Just look at me,” he gritted the last through clenched teeth.

Eyes raked down a body he knew was littered with scars. The marks of his hellish existence in the bowels of Megdoluc.

He stood on shaky legs, scowling at all of them.

Devon sighed and stepped closer. He was such a pathetic bastard. He didn’t even try to kick Lucien’s ass after kissing his female the way he did. So much for growing a pair.

“When are you going to stop this nonsense?”

Lucien cocked a brow at him. “What nonsense?”

“You won’t eat.”

Lucien scowled. “When you let me out of here.”

Devon’s eyes narrowed. After a moment, he shook his head. “You’re safer here for now.”

Lucien scoffed and looked at the reapers. “Safe? Really?”

Devon scowled and looked back at the reapers. “They’re under orders to protect you.”

Lucien turned and bumped into Remi, who was holding the mangled remains of the peanut butter, jelly and banana sandwich.

Remi was quick. You’d try to nail the son-of-a-bitch and you’d end up swiping the air, but Lucien hadn’t been second in command for nothing. His visualization of the sandwich plastered all over the annoying red weredragon’s face became reality when Lucien used his telekinetic powers to flick Remi’s own hand up into his grinning face.

The reapers snickered as Rem wiped the gooey mess off his countenance.

“Lucky shot,” he murmured with a scowl.

Lucien took the opportunity to teleport away to the other side of the envirolevel.

Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? He wanted left alone.

He sat at the edge of the lake, perched atop a boulder jutting over the placid surface. Just behind him was an enormous willow, its branches spread over him like a green umbrella.

Most of the leaves trailed lazily within the glassy blue depths of the lake. If he sat closer to the edge, he’d be able to let his leg hang over and wet his toes, but the dark water still scared him. They could be lurking beneath, waiting to drag him back to Hell.

A shudder went through him. It was stupid of him to think that way because Devon had the entire envirolevel telepathically sealed. Nothing could penetrate his demon brother’s wall of power.

He needed to wash. His mouth tasted like puke and his hair was sticky with it too.

He was sitting by the edge of the lake. Rayne made her way carefully toward him. Excitement welled within her seeing him finally awake. For the past months, he’d been catatonic, but a few days ago, Angel had told her that they’d managed to rouse him.

She stopped with a gasp when she saw a column of water rise from the lake to pour over him.

He held her transfixed as he bathed beneath the falling water. Long fingers raked through the fall of blond hair that reached his ass. She knew when it was dry the ends curled delicately and shimmered in a fascinating array of blond streaks, from the palest white to golden brown.

He turned to look at her over his shoulder. His eyes were ice blue, tilted up at the edges like a cat with long dark lashes framing them. Almost too beautiful to be a man.

Rayne licked her lips, a habit she had when she was nervous.

She frowned when he stood slowly, noting how pronounced his hipbones and ribs were.

Why was he starving himself?

He stood proud, water still sluicing down his body, his eyes riveted to hers.

Rayne gulped, averting her gaze to look down at her feet. It was instinct, a lesson beat into her from childhood.

Trembling, she approached him. Master Zak had forbidden her to kneel at any man’s feet, but this was her real Master. The one who’d freed her from the glass coffin.

A riot of emotions filled her when she pressed her forehead to his feet. Joy, fear, comfort, desperation, loneliness, need—so much need—to be accepted once more by him.

She began kissing his feet, up his ankles, calves and thighs until she came to the hand that covered his sex.

Confused, she dared peer up at his countenance.

His eyes had darkened and his lips were parted.

He had such a beautiful mouth.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice thick, raspy. It made her feel a strange tingling in her breasts and between her legs.

Ducking her head again, she answered shyly, “Master, this lowly slave shows Master how much she adores him, Master.”

He was silent a moment and she held her breath.

“I have no slave,” he growled out.

Rayne hunched her shoulders and resisted throwing her arms around his legs to cry and beg.

“Master, th-this one begs for Master’s ownership. This one would do anything, Master.”

“Anything?”

Hope soared through her. Clasping her hands together in supplication, she peered up at him again. “Yes Master, anything, Master,” she declared unable to control the hitch in her voice.

He frowned. “Get up.”

Rayne rose as gracefully as she could on shaking legs. She came up to the middle of his chest and swallowed hard when he continued to frown down at her.

“Damn. What are you? Like five-foot-five?”

She didn’t understand what he was talking about. Bowing her head she blurted, “Master, this one can please Master anyway he wishes. This one has been trained, Master.”

“You have?”

She looked back up, nibbling her lip. His eyes were looking her over slowly. Again, a strange flutter surged through her lower tummy to throb between her legs. “Yes, Master. This one can please you anyway you wish, Master.”

His eyes widened a bit before he cocked a brow. “And have you had allot of practice pleasing other masters?”

She felt her face heat up and twisted her fingers together. “N-no Master,-not really. This one was holo-trained, Master.”

“This one.” It wasn’t a question. More of a statement said with a deepening frown. He looked displeased and to her horror, she felt her eyes begin to well up. He was going to reject and abandon her…again.

“What’s your name?”

“Master, whatever you choose, Master.”

His scowl deepened.

“What was the name given to you by your father?”

She blinked up at him, her memories going far back…to a very dark-dark place. Her shoulders hunched more. “Rayanalideepadoonamalakeinayane Nalapeedoo—“

“Stop,” he snapped rubbing his temples. “Fuck.”

Her heart raced and she dropped down, wincing when her tender bottom hit the ground. Obediently, she spread her legs and waited for him to mount her.

He opened his eyes and frowned in confusion before looking down at her again. His face screwed into a perplexed grimace. Was it the wrong position?

Oh-no. Why would she think her beautiful Master would want to mount her facing her? Why was she so stupid?

Quickly, she turned over on her knees, ass in the air and head pressed to the rocky ground and waited.

“What are you doing?” he asked still sounding confused.

Rayne blinked, tensing up. “Does Master not favor this position either? How would Master prefer this one?”

“Would you stop referring to yourself in third person, and you’re not my slave.”

Rayne flopped back over to stare at him in horror.

“And don’t give me water-works either. I don’t do virgins, and I don’t keep slaves or submissives.”

He was rejecting her because she wasn’t broken in yet.

“Oh, please, Master—“

He closed his eyes, hands raking through his wet hair in agitation. “No begging either. I found you and freed you. End of story,” he finished slashing one hand through the air dismissively.

Rayne shook her head. “I do not want freedom. I need to belong. How will I survive?”

“The way you’ve been surviving for the past months since I freed you.” He reached down and hoisted her up, hands almost hurtful. “Look at you. You’re just a tiny thing. And you want to be mine? Are you out of your ever-loving mind? You have no idea what I am.”

“I can eat more and grow bigger,” she said in a small voice. Though she’d never be as glorious as Anniel, the dark-skinned she wolf mated to the scary-looking death angel called Ashriel. “Please-please give me a chance,” she wailed throwing her arms around his neck.

His gaze softened and he leaned down close, his mouth almost touching hers. Rayne held her breath. She’d seen the others mate with their mouths, lips rubbing, tongues dancing against each other sensuously. Was he going to kiss her? Oh, how she wished he’d wrap his arms around her. She would feel so safe, content. His ice-blue eyes bore into hers, and he opened his lips as if to say something.

And then his body stiffened.

His gaze flicked up to look behind her. Frowning, she turned her head to look, wondering what had drawn his attention.

Just through the fronds of greenery waving lazily a few paces away, Rayne saw a glimpse of Boy Rayne’s iridescent white hair. The rays of the sun glinted off his silver mask. When he noticed them staring, he turned and disappeared from sight without making a sound.

Rayne sighed dejectedly. He was still terrified of her, even though she’d tried so hard to befriend him or her. Rayne wasn’t sure what the humanoid creature was. She’d just grown accustomed to thinking it was a he.

Master Lucien grasped her chin in his big hand and turned her to face him.

“Why does that thing wear a mask?”

Rayne swallowed. “Master, this one—“ His scowl deepened and she immediately corrected herself. “I-I don’t know, M—“ He growled. “Sir,” she finished with a pout.”

“Why do you call it Boy Rayne?”

She blinked up at him. He was really curious about Boy. Was that why he was rejecting her? Did he want Boy Rayne instead? “H-he has it spelled out on his clothing, Sir.”

“So you can read?” His eyes narrowed.

“I can read five hundred different alien dialects, Sir. I can also sing, dance, and play the Harscheken.”

For a brief moment, she thought she saw a flash of admiration in his lovely eyes, but then he grew aloof, taking a few steps back to the edge of the rock overlooking the lake.

“Stay away from me, Rayne. I just want to be left alone.”

And then he vanished.

Teleportation. Most of them did it. Master Remi was trying to teach her, but she felt it wasn’t proper for a slave-girl to know such things.

Lucien teleported himself on another rock he usually lounged on by a waterfall. No plants nearby so he didn’t risk ending up with pieces of foliage traversing his body. That was always shitty. No sooner had he let out a pent up sigh, a hand gripped his hair again and sent him sprawling back on his ass.

Lucien grunted when his backside hit the hard ground. A sword tip pricked his throat. He followed the blade up to the angry scowl of its owner.

“I guess it’s my day to be popular.”

Ashriel sneered. “You’ve convalesced enough, now you will answer my questions.”

Lucien grinned. “Convalesced? Is that what I was doing?”

Lucien was sure the sword tip drew blood when it pressed against his Adam’s apple a bit harder.

This time, not only did Devon appear, but the rest of the Alpha Angels—all six and Angel.

“I just love family reunions,” Lucien said with a sarcastic smile.

“Ash,” Anniel admonished, placing her hand at her lover’s wrist.

If anything, his muscles bulged even more in rage, but he lowered his sword.

Slowly Lucien rose to his feet, surreptitiously rubbing his smarting ass. “So ask away. What the hell did you want to know?”

“The war. Why? Why and how did you manage to—“

“Whoa,” Lucien scoffed, holding his hands up. “I didn’t start that war.”

“The Utuduodian Hunters. Why did you ask them to trap us?” Devon asked now.

Lucien looked at him from the corner of his eye before lowering his gaze.

It had all been so simple. Trap them all, let the demons take over and do whatever the hell it was they had wanted and he got to keep…

He looked back up at Anniel. Back then he’d been madly infatuated with her.

Ashriel snarled, stepped between him and Anniel, black wings spreading in warning.

“Answer him,” Ashriel snapped.

“He doesn’t have to,” Devon said in a low voice.

His brother circled around until he stood face to face with Lucien.

“What was supposed to happen once the demons gave you Anniel?”

Lucien took a deep breath. “I was going to wipe her memories. Make her love me. They promised me our own world. I was going to take the others with me. Wipe their minds too.”

He hadn’t wanted to kill them.

“And me?” Devon prodded.

Lucien clenched his teeth and raised his gaze up slowly.

“You,” he hissed, “were to be handed over to them.”

Devon remained stony-face, the only evidence of his agitation his chest heaving up and down slowly.

“Why?” he finally gritted out. His luminous blue eyes brightened with tears despite his obvious anger.

Lucien snorted. “Why?” He laughed then, a humorous bark filled with hatred. Instead of telling his twin brother everything he’d gone through, he showed him. His hands shot out and gripped handfuls of Devon’s silky blue-black hair as he crashed their foreheads together and shoved every scream-filled second of horror he lived with Malvano Black.

He wanted to hurt Devon, wanted him to feel it all, especially what Lucien felt when the devil, Samael told him of Devon’s love filled existence up on Alpha 7.

Devon, instead gripped him, held him hard against his chest, and pushed his own images and sensations into him.

They were swathed in brilliant light. Love. Lucien was loved. His soul remembered what that had felt like. The love had come from Devon, their mother, and later their father. Davariel sang to them, played with their limbs, kissed their toes. Mother had nursed them, but then the devils tried to take them away. Their parents were gone. They lived with the weredragons and the vampire Drakken in the city. They were being hunted and Drakken was arrested by Guardian soldiers. Devon and Lucien were taken to an orphanage by the weredragons.

“Sometime during our first night there, the Seraphian Master Guardians were supposed to take us away, but they sent just one Master Guardian to avoid rousing suspicion. Aria told me there was an awful storm so he could only carry one of us at a time. When he went back for you, you’d already been stolen out of the crib. They didn’t leave you on purpose.”

Lucien untangled himself from his brother. So many years of hurt and hatred couldn’t be undone in just a few seconds.

“I don’t intend for you to just flip a switch and pretend none of this happened, Luke,” Devon coaxed in a gentle voice.

Lucien looked around at the faces of his Alpha Angel brothers and sisters; Seth, who he’d tried to offer up as a virginal sacrifice to anoint Lucifer’s sword, Zak, who he’d flayed to unconsciousness on Arboria, and Remi. Remi He’d run through with Lucifer’s sword. It was a lethal blow—one he never should have recuperated from, but the red weredragon had been saved by Dominatio’s.

Rowie and Anniel, no matter how evil he might have been at one time, he never would have hurt either of them.

“Luke, help us get to the bottom of this. Help us clear our name,” Zak said in his usual deep voice.

How could they forgive him so easily?

“We love you, Luke,” Anniel sighed.

His heart constricted. He didn’t deserve it—any of it.

“Help us find out who took advantage of your situation. They used you... your pain, Luke. Can’t you see?”

He turned away feeling confused.

“Don’t you know the demons need to destroy this realm to get back to Ainrodon?” Ashriel bit out.

Lucien scowled up at him. “They never told me that. They just promised me some revenge and that they wanted to take over because all of creation was too stupid. They said they could run things better.”

Ashriel laughed bitterly. “And you believed them, you fool.”

Lucien growled. “Beyond getting back at the people that fucked me over, truth be told, I really didn’t give much of a fuck.”

Ashriel’s fist gripped Lucien’s neck so tight his eyes bulged. Devon snarled a warning the reaper obviously choose to ignore. “You fucking, selfish, egotistical, bastard. The demons destroying all of creation wouldn’t really let you get your sick revenge on anyone because they’d all be dead, including you.”

“Ashriel,” Devon’s inhuman voice snarled again. His brother was losing it.

Ashriel dropped him to the ground like so much feces.

Lucien coughed and gasped for breath. So much for the loving family reunion.

Devon’s arms encircled him from behind and immediately the discomfort in his throat abated.

Let’s hear it for a brother with super-human powers.

“I don’t trust either of you,” Ashriel snapped pointing an accusing finger at them both.

Anniel crouched down next to them, looking up at the angry reaper. “Ash, enough. This is uncalled for. Do you distrust me too?”

Ashriel’s face changed in the blink of an eye. “Anniel. Never you. I—“

She wrapped her arms around both Devon and Lucien. “Well stop with the rant already.”

“We’ll never get to the bottom of this if we’re going to be at each other’s throats,” Seth said folding his arms over his chest.

Remi strode over and stood behind Lucien, Devon, and Anniel. “Right, Ash. If you don’t trust the twins from Hell, then you can’t trust me either.”

Ashriel bared his teeth. “I don’t—“

“Ash,” Anniel admonished.

Lucien felt amusement fill him when the gargantuan reaper actually sulked. Wow. Mega Pussy-whipped.

An elbow to his ribs had him grunting and looking into Anniel’s stern countenance.

Right. He’d forgotten they could hear most of his thoughts.

“Broadcasting,” Seth coughed behind his hand.

“Right,” Lucien said. “So, what’s the big plan to uncover the demons plot?”

“We’re going to Earth,” Zak answered.

Lucien stared at Zak wide-eyed first, and then the rest of them, thinking they’d lost their minds.

“It’s all still in the planning stages, but we need you for this. You’re the one who had contact with the demons. You’d recognize their essence if you came across one.”

“We think most, if not all government, including the LOS is being run by fallen angels,” Devon said.

“They’re tearing down civilization, getting species to war against one another. Once most of creation has killed itself off there won’t be much for them to destroy.”

“You do realize we’re wanted criminals in the Edenian solar system,” Lucien reminded.

“The bounty has been lifted off our heads, but we have a plan to get in,” Zak said.

Lucien looked back up at him. “Enlighten me.”

“No one knows we’ve rescued you yet,” Zak began.

“Except the demons,” Seth interjected.

“Angel of Retribution and Draconius Imorteus are going to help us setting up a concert in the Edenian solar system, starting with Mars,” Remi added.

Lucien felt more confused than ever. “A concert?”

“Concerts draw people,” Rowie sauntered over and knelt in front of Lucien, “beings from all over the galaxy.

“You’re just going to be another stage hand retiring from show business to settle on Earth with your new family,” Anniel said with a smile.

Lucien pursed his lips, letting his gaze rove over her luscious curves despite the snarls of anger her man was giving him. “Family?”

“We’re setting you up on Earth with Rayne as your mate,” Devon said finally releasing him.

Lucien shot to his feet and rounded on them angrily. “No. Absolutely not. Are you out of your mind? Is that girl even old enough to marry?”

“Luke, baby, of course she is,” Anniel blurted, gripping his arm.

Lucien shook his head adamantly. “It’s too dangerous for her. No.”

“Well then who?” Ashriel snapped. “If you think any of us are going to let you pretend one of our women belongs to you—“

“What about Amadashiel?” Seth interjected.

Lucien remembered the pretty girl reaper and began to laugh. “Do they even allow reapers to settle on Earth?”

“They do now,” Remien answered. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was frowning. “Don’t be a jackass and take Rayne.”

Lucien scowled at the red weredragon. “Why are you insistent on it being Rayne?”

“She likes you, man,” Remi answered with a pout.

“Fuck off, Fyre. Don’t start your match-making shit with me,” Lucien spat.

Remi only snorted, his eyes narrowing.

Yeah. He so was going to start. Lucien was sure of it.