Page 221 of Knight’s Retribution

He told Rocco he thought that meant he was too close to it all, that his own feelings were getting in the way. They were completely on their own with this one.

Rocco extended his wings and dived off the side of the building, flying over the city. The night was clear, and he glanced around him, catching sight of his brothers in the distance. Tonight, they weren’t doing their usual patrol, instead they were doing a flyby, making sure everything was quiet. They’d had no reports of demon activity in the city. The fuckers had been quiet for several days. They were preparing, like the knights had been.

He looked toward Chaos, and his brother motioned them on. He was heading home to Grace. The rest of them followed, eager to return to their own mates.

They landed one by one on the control room balcony a short time later, and then strode inside, splitting and heading to their apartments without a word.

Rocco hit the hall, and Silas was striding toward him. “Any luck?”

“None. Apparently, Earth is beneath them, literally and figuratively.” Silas had been trying to get in touch with the angels for weeks, to ask them for assistance or guidance, for a way to trap or bind Diemos. They wouldn’t answer Silas. They weren’t interested, and it was more obvious now than ever that they’d cut Silas off completely.

Which meant, their big plan was to use the dagger he and Kyler had brought back, but if for some reason that didn’t work on Diemos, they’d have to severely wound him, enough that his powers would be drained trying to repair his injuries. That way Tobias, with the power Lucifer gave him, might be able to take Diemos’s head. If not, they’d have to keep Diemos that way, injuring him over and over again, until they had a more permanent solution.

Rocco looked the fallen angel in the eye. The silver of his irises was swirling, light and dark. He was troubled, and about more than what happened tomorrow. “Go see her,” Rocco said. “Don’t leave it like this.”

Silas shook his head. “I blew it; she won’t see me.”

Rocco clapped him on the shoulder, started to walk away, then stopped. “Silas?”

“Yeah?”

“If we die tomorrow, what happens? I mean, is there a place in Heaven for us, for our mates, or are we shit out of luck?”

Silas held his gaze, and what Rocco saw sliced him down the middle. “Kyler asked me the same thing.”

“She did? And what did you tell her?”

“That there is no place in Heaven for beings with demon blood.”

Rocco planted his hands on his hips and stared at the ground, trying to control his rage. They’d sacrificed, they’d fought, they’d lived and breathed this life for the angels who created them, and they would see their souls sent to Hell when they died rather than taint Heaven with their demon blood.

“Will I know her?” Rocco choked out. “If we end up in Hell tomorrow, will I be with her?”

Silas’s hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed. “Yes, I believe so.” The muscle in Silas’s jaw ticked.

Rocco’s throat felt like it was closing up. All he could do was take Silas’s hand, thanking him without words for everything he’d done for him and his brothers all their lives, and strode away.

He pushed open the door to his apartment a few minutes later and walked in. The living room was dark, a dim light shone from the bedroom. He walked in, and Kyler stood there in her robe.

Her gaze moved over him. “Hey.”

“Come here,” he choked out.

She moved to him instantly, and he pulled her into his arms. She tilted her head back, and he kissed her, deep and a little rough because his emotions were all over the place and there was no holding them back, no controlling the raging storm inside him.

“Christ, Ky,” he said, searching her gaze. There were no words. What the hell could he say? This could be their last night together.

She blinked up at him as her hand moved to his thigh, and she worked the buckle that secured his sword there. The heavy weight of it slipped away, and she dropped it to the floor, then dropped to her knees. She undid his boots, helping him out of them, then his socks, followed by his jeans and briefs.

When he was naked, she stood, took his hand, and led him to the bathroom and turned on the shower. She looked up at him. “I love showering with you.”

“Not as much as I do,” he said roughly.

When the water was steaming, she slipped off her robe, letting it drop to the floor, and climbed in. Rocco crowded her, resting his hands on her hips, moving them up and down her sides. Her body had changed over the last couple of months. She was stronger, still soft but also harder, more muscled. She was utterly gorgeous.

They’d trained together the last few weeks, and he’d tried and failed to push her to her limits, tried to test how far she could go, where he needed to be careful with her. He didn’t. She didn’t have a fucking limit. He moved quicker, so did she. He ran faster, she was right at his side. He threw her farther, she nailed the landing perfectly every fucking time.

They predicted each other’s moves, five steps ahead of them happening. Ursula was right, separate, they were dangerous, together, they were unstoppable.