ŷ������

"“Do you think you have the right to give me orders now?��

The Archangel of New York, a creature so lethal that part of her feared him even now, lifted the hair off her nape, brushed his lips across her skin. “Of course. You are mine.�� No hint of humor, nothing but stark possession."


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"“I won’t watch you die again, Elena.�� The Cadre had chosen her because she was the best, relentless in her pursuit of her prey. But then, she’d been disposable. Now, she was integral to his existence."


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"The old ones saw Elena as exactly that—Raphael’s creation, his possession. They didn’t understand that she held his heart, held it so utterly that there was nothing he wouldn’t do, no line he wouldn’t cross to keep her safe."


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"Because in all his centuries of existence, he’d never before taken a lover he considered his on every level. He’d kill for her, destroy for her, savage anyone who dared attempt to take her from him."


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"“Teasing, Archangel?��

Teeth grazed over her lips. “Know this Elena—you’ll never wear another man’s knife.��

She blinked. “He wanted to give me a blade? What’s wrong with that?��

“Blades,�� he whispered, “and sheaths go together. And your sheath will only ever hold my blade.��"