Devilish Mate

10

6

Hannah

T

he last thing I remembered was darkness claiming me, taking me to a place where the memories couldn’t hurt me anymore. Now the sound of metal slipping against metal wormed its way into my dream, waking me from a vision of Gadreel glaring at me with eyes full of rage. I rolled over and slowly realized I was in Jophiel’s luxurious guest room. Azazel sat in a chair in the corner, sharpening one of her knives.

It was dark, with no light visible through the curtains, so I must have been out a while. I sucked in a deep breath and tried not to panic as everything hit me again, returning in a wave as big as when Jophiel had released the memories into my head.

I remembered it all.

Everything.

A gleaming white house built upon a hill with many places for an angel to land. A woman with golden hair and a radiant smile taking me into her arms. A man with serious blue eyes handing me a book. Jophiel, already hundreds of years old by the time I was born, taking my hand and leading me outside into bright sunlight. All memories from my childhood in Heaven. And my parents—my real parents. I remembered them strongly, along with the pain of losing them.

My mother, Archangel Anael, had simply disappeared soon after I gained my wings at twenty-one. No one knew what happened to her, though many suspected the demons had killed her. And my father, Archangel Phanuel—Jophiel was right, Lucifer did kill him. What she left out was that he’d done it in self-defense. It was during the middle of the Great War, and I was serving under my father, who commanded a group of spies. He led our team in an assassination attempt against Lucifer, but we failed. My father died in the attack, and Lucifer captured me.

At first, I hated Lucifer. I burned with the desire to strike him dead. I’d been raised my entire life to hate demons, and especially Lucifer, and then he’d killed my father. But I couldn’t deny my bond with him either, and soon I came to know the real Lucifer. I also began to remember my past lives, just snippets and feelings more than anything, but it was enough. I couldn’t deny the truth that he was my mate.

We began a secret, forbidden relationship, and in private we spent hours discussing the endless war between angels and demons. Slowly we each began to realize that the two sides had both lost sight of why they were even fighting by that point, and we agreed that the war was hurting both our races. Heaven and Hell had each become ravaged by the ancient battles, and the population of angels and demons were dwindling. Despite that, we couldn’t see an end to the war. Neither side would concede. Pride was perhaps the greatest enemy of all.

Lucifer was the only one who could put an end to the war, and I’d tried to convince him to do just that—and for a while, I really thought he might do it, especially when we discovered I was pregnant. The first child ever created from the forbidden love between and an angel and a Fallen. A perfect blend of light and darkness. A daughter.

We were overjoyed—especially since children among immortals are so rare. But the joy didn’t last long.

The memories played out in my mind like a film I couldn’t stop. When I was seven months pregnant, Gadreel found out about us, and he got me alone and attacked me. My thoughts faltered in a wave of pain. He hadn’t only taken my life. He’d taken my unborn daughter’s life too.

A sob lodged in my chest and I tried to choke it down, trying not to feel the pain that swept over me, but it was impossible. Agony wrapped around me like cold tentacles as the loss hit me all over again, binding me in unexpected raw sadness.

I couldn’t stop the memories. Gadreel stabbed me, and the blood... So much blood. I managed to escape and fly again, even though the pain was unbearable. All I could think was that I had to get to my sister. She would be able to save me and my daughter. But it was too late. I died, and though Raphael resurrected me, he couldn’t save my child.

Another sob escaped me at the memory. She was gone. My daughter was gone. I still remembered the first time I felt her move inside me, and the unbearable grief when I realized I would never feel her again. The pain was as fresh now as if it had just happened.

After my resurrection, the despair had been overwhelming. I couldn’t shake the belief I should have died with my daughter. I was angry, so incredibly angry that Raphael had brought me back without her. How could I go on with my life, knowing what I’d lost?

I’d begged Jophiel to wipe my memories. Begged her to kill me again. Begged her to let me start over fresh as a new person, leaving Haniel behind forever.

And in a way, she’d done just that.

The tears flowed freely now as the memories swept through me, so hard and fast I could barely breathe through them. Gasping, I clutched my chest as true despair radiated through me, so strong I could barely stand it. My daughter was an innocent victim of the curse, and I would give anything to trade places with her, to give up my life so she could live.

I felt so helpless. So alone. I understood now why Lucifer told me I might not want to know.

Zel sank down beside me on the bed and wrapped her arms around me without a word, enveloping me in a tight hug. I was so surprised by the gesture, especially since Zel had no idea why I was upset, that at first I nearly jerked away from her touch. Then I leaned into her, pressed my face against her shoulder, and cried against her.