***Warning*** Book 2, Sequel to Burning Gods & Wicked Angels ***Warning***
***Warning*** Blurb contains spoilers! ***Warning***
If someone told me I'd be working with the enemy after losing everything, I wouldn't believe them.
...
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I was ready for the kick. That didn't mean it hurt any less. Michael's fist connected with my head. I sucked in air; the pain exploding and coming roaring back and I forced myself not to curl up, to not look submissive. Blackness surrounded me before I could utter another word.
The next time my eyes flew open was when an icy wind roared around me. The past, present, and future were all the same. Time had lost all meaning to me. Every moment felt stretched into eternity. I tried to calm myself, dragging in shuddering breaths, stilling my limbs.
My situation could hardly get any worse than it already was. Perhaps I shouldn't get ahead of myself. Samael could always join the party. Not that he was welcome here. Our brothers and sister saw us both as equals. Equally bad and flawed.
I still dreamed of him.
When I was awake, I had gotten very good at not thinking about Samael—at never mentioning his name—at pretending he just didn't exist. I had gotten good at avoiding the unwanted feeling of betrayal, and the voice in my head that kept reminding me it was Samael, who had been the betrayer, not the other way around. I had gotten good at ignoring the fear I felt at the mere idea of crossing paths with him again.
But when I slept... My brother still came.
Not every time, not by a long stretch, but he was never gone for long—unless I was on Earth with Amelia. My brother didn't haunt my dreams while I was preoccupied with chasing after and worrying over Amelia. With her, it was like the past didn't matter anymore. But as soon as I returned to Heaven, the familiar dreams came back.
Sometimes the dreams were sweet, beautiful even. Bittersweet memories I didn't want to believe I still longed to relive. Memories of a time when I hadn't a care in all creation, when I thought my family would always love me. Other times I had dreams of reconciliation, of having my brother back—an impossible, unfulfillable desire, leaving me when I woke with a cruel wanting.
I preferred the nightmares.
When I woke from those, I felt relief. Relief that the memory of being cast out and rejected by the person who mattered most to me was in the past.
Relief that I escaped from a dream of my brother taunting me as his face melted away to reveal him as the monster he was.
Out of the blue, scorching hands gripped my chin, wrenching my gaze forward. With much effort, I dragged my eyelids open and glared into the face of God as he materialized from nothing.
Shit.
Everything froze, and time stood still.
"Gabriel, you will repent," Father commanded. Creator, judge, and jury.
