Messenger's Angel: A Novel of the Lost Angels Read Online Free Page B

in the turn of conversation. Then he slid his well-muscled arms around Ellie’s waist and pulled her back with him as he sank farther into the cushions of the couch. “But I’m starting to believe he exists for no other reason than to tempt me to kill him.”
    Ellie cocked her head to one side and narrowed her gaze on her lover. “Oh?” She noted the tightness in his jaw and the unconscious possessiveness in his flexed muscles. He was irritated that she was bringing Sam into the conversation just then. Samael was a distraction Uriel didn’t want Ellie to have at that moment. “Jealous?” she asked.
    A hint of Uriel’s smile was back. His hand slid beneath the wire of her bra. “Always.”
    * * *
    General Kevin Trenton was a tall, well-muscled man with blue-black shoulder-length hair and ice-blue eyes. He was also known as Abraxos, the leader of the Adarian race, the first archangels created by the Old Man and consequently discarded to Earth due to their frighteningly immense powers. Over the years, he’d changed his name many times and now most of his men simply referred to him as General.
    At the moment, Kevin stood in front of the mirror above the sink in one of the many rooms in the Adarian headquarters in Texas. In the mirror’s reflection, he saw the tall, strong form of one of his men fill the space in his doorway. “Come in, Ely.”
    Elyon was a black man and one of Kevin’s best fighters. As with all the Adarians, Elyon’s name had naturally been shortened over the last few millennia. His Adarian abilities had long ago proved themselves to be of the nastier, more potent variety. Among other things, with a single touch, Ely could wither a person’s body around its skeleton, sapping it of the water it needed to fill out its human cells. After a few seconds, Ely’s victim would fall at his feet, lifeless and crumpled as weathered parchment.
    Ely nodded once and entered, but Kevin did not fail to notice the quick, nervous glance the Adarian shot toward the bound victim in the corner of the room.
    The human male had been cuffed to a chair and apparently drugged. His eyes were unfocused and half-closed. He had put up a struggle when Kevin’s men brought him in, and his clothes were torn in places. Where the rips in the material of his pants rested against his skin, blood soaked it a fresh, wet red. His button-down dress shirt had been equally mistreated, but it was the sort that had once been worn beneath a suit coat and tie.
    “Pay him no heed,” Kevin told the soldier. He turned and retrieved the razor blade he’d set on the counter alongside a basin of water and a clear drinking glass. He picked up the glass, then turned back to face the Adarian.
    Ely’s amber-colored eyes were shot through with a sudden strain of apprehension at the sight of the blade, but his dark, handsome face managed to maintain a semblance of impassivity that Kevin was admittedly impressed with. Ely had always been an incredibly strong man, even among Adarians. That was why Kevin had chosen him for this test.
    “Bare your wrist, Ely.”
    Ely hesitated for a mere heartbeat before he raised his arm, rolled up his sleeve, and offered his right wrist to his general. Kevin lowered the razor blade to the inside of the man’s wrist and Ely’s body became a statue, unbreathing, unmoving.
    The blade sliced swift and clean and the blood welled up at once. Kevin caught it with the glass as it escaped from the wound and ran down Ely’s wrist in a thick, crimson tributary. As the glass began to fill, Ely’s gaze wavered. He looked away from his wrist and focused on the wall. And then, eventually, he closed his eyes and swallowed hard.
    “You look a tad pale, Ely,” Kevin joked, as it was actually difficult for Ely to look pale at all. Ashen at most, perhaps.
    Ely said nothing. He was clearly not amused and knew better than to say anything unless he could say something nice.
    When the glass was three-quarters full, Kevin set it down