The Gates of Paradise Read Online Free Page A

one of them now, her past transgressions forgiven when she’d proved herself worthy of the pack by fighting against Romulus’s will and breaking her collar. They were a team, a unit, and if Bliss had any lingering suspicions concerning Ahramin, she chided herself for them. For if she felt that way about Ahramin, how could she expect anyone to forgive her for her own dark past? Ahramin was merely a former Hellhound, but Bliss was Lucifer’s daughter. The Dark Prince had cursed the wolves, had turned them into slaves. In the underworld, the Silver Bloods had been the wolves’ masters.
    “Tell us what you need us to do,” she urged Lawson.
    “This has never happened before,” he grumbled. “But sure, why not? Guys, everyone focus. We just need to clear our minds, imagine the passage opening. Maybe if we all work together we can do it.”
    The pack huddled together. Bliss pushed away her fear, pushed away her doubt, and pictured the Passages of Time opening before her. Her head ached, and she put her hands to her temples, feeling them throb and pulse, and for a moment she was convinced it was working. She could feel the passage opening behind her, felt the wind through the tunnels.
    Then it stopped.
    The feeling went away.
    She opened her eyes and looked around. Nothing had changed.
    They were still standing in the clearing.
    “What’s going on?” Rafe asked, frustrated.
    “Did you do something?” Ahramin asked Lawson. “Like accidentally seal the passage behind us when we went through?”
    “Why do you always assume it was me who did something wrong?” Lawson protested.
    “Because you’ve screwed up before,” she snapped. “Remember how I got left behind the last time?”
    They sounded like an old married couple, Bliss thought. Which implied a certain kind of intimacy that she didn’t want to think about too much. Besides, it was ridiculous to even consider. Ahramin and Lawson? If they hadn’t been in the same pack, it was clear they would have despised each other. Besides, Ahramin had been pledged to Edon from the beginning. No, they weren’t like a married couple—more like bickering siblings, which made more sense.
    “Don’t be so hard on him, Ahri; he’s doing his best,” Edon said.
    “It wasn’t Lawson,” Malcolm said. “It’s like the passages have closed up on their own. Can’t you feel it?”
    Rafe nodded. “It did feel different, like something was blocking them.”
    “Or someone,” Bliss said.

F OUR
Tomasia (Florence, 1452)
    he castle came into view at the edge of a black and winding river, its tall gray walls rising forty feet above the dark waters. Steep cliffs backed the fortress, which meant the stone bridge was the only way in or out. The keep was well fortified, designed to repel a siege. But its defenses would soon prove useless.
    “We’ll stop here, lest we give away our location,” Tomasia Fosari decided, and the team drifted into the shadows of the forest. The air was damp and smelled of the rotting river, its murky waters rippling with the current.
    “Are you certain you can do this?” Giovanni Rustici asked. In the moonlight his hair was like a halo around his handsome face. Gio was not only the best Venator among them, he was also a fellow sculptor at Donatello’s studio, and Tomasia’s closest friend. He knew how hard this was for her. They had spent days on the road tracking the Dark Prince to his hiding place in Verona.
    “Yes,” Tomasia told him, her face set. She had believed that Andreas del Pollaiuolo was the love of her life. Michael to her Gabrielle. But she had been deceived. Dre carried the spirit of Lucifer within him. Simonetta de Vespucci had named him as the father of her baby. “The Mistress,” Simonetta was called, consort to the Dark Prince, his human bride, the mother of Nephilim.
    The dark-haired beauty had cowered from Gio’s blade.
    “We shall not suffer the demon child to live,” Gio growled.
    But Tomi had stayed his hand. “No.