“Not me?” Asmodeus ran his long, tapered fingers over the surface of the desk with a loving caress. “I feel more than you could ever dream.”

  Kyriel hurled the encased ring at the dark angel, aiming for his head. “Looks like your friend’s got a thing for rings.”

  Asmodeus caught the thick chunk of glass midair and closed it in his fist, staring coldly across the desk at Kyriel, his chilling presence like an arctic blast, void of all feeling.

  “Don’t get so excited.” He carefully placed the encased ring back on the desk. “The rings are not what you need to worry about. There’s more to it than that.”

  Kyriel didn’t have time for games. It took every last ounce of his power and control to keep from blasting Asmodeus into oblivion. The simple fact that he was the only connection they had to the enemy kept him alive.

  To draw him out, Kyriel asked, “What do you want up here? Hell getting too cold for you?”

  “I love the cold.” Asmodeus smiled with spite and bitterness gleaming behind his black eyes. “Life doesn’t get any better. Two Ages of living in the dark, and you all wonder why I don’t play well with others.”

  Kyriel didn’t feel sorry for the dark angel. Asmodeus had chosen his fate the day he’d sided with Lucifer. They were fallen, but they didn’t have to be damned.

  “Save me the sob story and tell me where the rings are.”

  “You won’t find the rings here.” As Asmodeus crossed the room he used his powers to swing open the double doors of a wooden armoire. “It would seem Jonathon is focused on a different kind of treasure.”

  Pinned to the inside of the doors were pictures of Jillian. Some were color, some black and white. All were taken candidly and from a distance using a high-resolution camera lens. Kyriel’s gaze focused on a black and white photo of her walking through the museum parking lot, her eyes cast down. A small smile touched the corners of her mouth.

  God, she was beautiful. Her skin was so soft and delicate.

  Kyriel resolved to live up to his task and do whatever it took to keep her safe.

  “What is this?” He struggled with the urge to rip all the pictures down in a possessive rage.

  What sick obsession did Jonathon have with Jillian?

  “She’s under my protection,” Kyriel declared, loud and clear. “If you value your man, you’ll keep him away from her.”

  “So noble.” Asmodeus made a tsking noise. “You should have been a Guardian.”

  “What do you want with Jillian?”

  Asmodeus dragged his finger along the line of her jaw in one of the pictures. “Lucifer has plans for this one.”

  Rage built on top of rage and Kyriel curled and uncurled his fists, prepared to strike out with his powers.

  “She’s mine,” he resonated the warning.

  “Is she?” Asmodeus canted his head to the side in question. “For how long? Rumor has it you’re going back.”

  How did Asmodeus always have a window into everyone’s business?

  “Stay away from her.” Kyriel lunged across the desk for Asmodeus and grabbed the collar of his black trench coat, pulling him in close so they were staring eye to eye. “She no longer has the ring, so she no longer has anything to do with this. Understand?”

  Asmodeus yanked Kyriel’s hands away, freeing his coat collar. “The ring was never the reason he wanted the woman. Lucifer needs a host once the gates are opened.”

  He released Kyriel’s hands, giving him a harsh shove.

  Kyriel kept his balance, asking, “A host? Does he plan to incarnate as a woman?”

  “Not exactly.”

  The doors on the armoire flew closed and banged against the frame.

  Asmodeus laughed lowly. “He wants to father a child.”

  Kyriel hadn’t imagined something so terrible could ever come into existence. There were stories, theories about what could happen, but no one believed the devil would actually try to procreate.

  “He’d unleash the Antichrist.”

  “Bingo!” Asmodeus clapped his hands together. “It’ll be a great show to watch from where I’m standing.”

  “You’re sick.”

  “I’m helping you.”

  “Why?” Kyriel crossed his arms.

  He’d be a fool to trust Asmodeus.

  “Just when I thought you were smart, you ask the obvious.”

  “Cut the crap—”

  “Listen!” Asmodeus walked out from behind the desk and into the center of the room. “If someone were to get her pregnant before the Equinox on Sunday night, say you…” He turned and pointed a finger at Kyriel. “Then Lucifer has no vessel.”

  Kyriel hadn’t seen that one coming. Certain fallen angels had gained special abilities once incarnated into their material forms. It turned out being human wasn’t all that bad, unless you were Kyriel.

  His curse?

  Super celestial sperm it seemed. The running joke was that Kyriel could get a woman pregnant just by touching her hand.

  He didn’t think it was so funny.

  For centuries, Kyriel suffered from a moral dilemma. He liked women, he liked having lots of sex—he had extremely good performance—but he’d started losing track of all the offspring his avid lust produced. Some of the children had powers and immortality, some didn’t. Some had come looking for their absent father years later, only to find a disappointing let down.

  Kyriel was a selfish person. He thought of his own well-being and comfort first and foremost.

  Guilt plagued him and, to live up to the memory of the mighty Warrior he’d once been, he finally took a vow of celibacy that lasted for over one thousand years. He’d only been freed from his curse with the recent invention of hormonal birth control. It was the only thing that saved him from a life without pleasure.

  “Essentially what you’re telling me is that because I can easily get women pregnant, I could end up saving the world from the Antichrist?” Kyriel wasn’t falling for the joke.

  “It’s not as easy as it sounds,” Asmodeus agreed. “Lucifer can use any human woman, but she is the one they’ve chosen. Timing is key.”

  Kyriel couldn’t believe they were even discussing this. He wanted to use his powers to seduce Jillian, there was no question about that, but to do it with the secret intention of getting her pregnant hadn’t been in the plan. “What you’re asking is impossible.”

  “Is it?” Asmodeus quirked a brow. “Last I checked, you were the best one of us for the job, if your past reputation means anything.”

  “You’re not one of us,” Kyriel reminded him.

  What side was Asmodeus on?

  The dark angel let a moment of silence pass, and Kyriel thought he saw something else in the black depths of his eyes. Could it be regret?

  Loneliness? Suffering?

  Kyriel didn’t care. It was his own redemption that mattered most.

  Quick as a flash, Asmodeus belted him with an amazing blast of power. The crippling pain instantly dropped Kyriel to his knees. It frightened him, reminding him of why he feared the wrath of the dark side.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Asmodeus faded out.

  Along with him went the pain.

  Kyriel took a few deep breaths, lucky to still be alive. Asmodeus had major powers, directly fueled by Lucifer through the use of dark, forbidden magic. The most powerful of the fallen angels, Asmodeus could have killed him with a look, but he hadn’t.

  Why not?

  Why warn him about Jillian?

  He wasn’t known to hand out loads of helpful advice when it came to defeating the devil. Did Kyriel believe him, or not?

  Past experience told him not.

  On the other hand, if what he said held any truth, Kyriel only had three days to seduce Jillian and get her pregnant, without telling her why, or who he really was. How could he tell her? Some days he didn’t believe he’d once been an angel.

  Yet there was something about Jillian that made him feel he could be honest with her, and he was planning to deceive her.

  No wonder he’d been abandoned.

  Chapter 15

  One could only walk up and down the office hallway so many times before looking suspicious. Jillian had run out of copies to make, out of coffee to refill, and out of reasons to check in with Ruth at the reception desk. She’d taken an anxiety pill and paced her office until she was dizzy.

  How long until Mr. Smith got back? Was he coming back?

  At least Jonathon had stayed in his office all morning.

  It was driving her crazy.

  Normally he was in and out, always on the run. His lack of activity had her wondering if he’d ducked out and she’d missed him leaving.

  Now she waited at the end of the hallway leading down to his office. If he opened the door, she could be gone before he had a chance to catch her spying.

  Life at the museum had never been so interesting. Snooping, spying, and lurking around corners were all new experiences for Jillian. She could do without the high level of stress. Her nerves were a frazzled wreck, and her mind kept playing end of the world scenarios on repeat. The only thought that gave her comfort was knowing her ring was safe with Mr. Smith. Unless trusting him was the wrong decision, but he hadn’t really left her with a choice.

  He’d taken the ring, and she wasn’t strong enough to take it back.

  Or was she?

  Denise was always telling her to use her feminine wiles, and this seemed like the perfect chance. If she slept with Winston Smith, maybe she could wait for him to fall asleep, get the ring, then catch a one-way flight to the middle of nowhere.

  That was a big maybe.

  Jillian, you’re a go-getter, her grandfather used to say. That’s why I’m trusting you with the museum, and with the ring. You’ll know what to do when the time comes.

  And now the time had come. All the things he’d taught her and prepared her for were happening. It was real, and she’d never fully believed it until now. That left her with two choices.

  Keep living in fear.

  Or start her life.

  Her grandfather had enough faith in her to do this, and she didn’t want to let him down. All she needed was a plan.

  Preferably one that had half a chance of working.

  The door to Jonathon’s office swung open and he stepped out into the hallway.

  Jillian veered around the corner and plastered herself flat to the wall, with her palms pressed against the cool stone. Her heart raced, pounding in her ears.

  Had he seen her?

  Taking a deep breath, then slowly letting it out, she ever so slightly turned her head to peer around the corner. Jonathon had his head down and was buttoning his suit jacket as he walked straight towards her at a brisk pace.

  Jillian whipped back around and hurried over to the next hallway. She ducked behind the wall, then peered around the corner. Jonathon was walking her way, his head up, though thankfully looking out the bay of windows off to the side.

  To keep her cover, she rushed ahead to the next junction in the hallway on her tip toes and dove behind the wall. Was she acting ridiculous? This was her museum and she had every right to walk these halls, but after her run-in with Jonathon that morning she had no desire to be caught alone with him, or even speak to the man.

  She hurried to catch her breath for a moment, then held it and went completely silent and still as she listened to the echo of his designer shoes in the hallway. He was still headed her way.

  She raced ahead of him, hustling along in her high heels as fast as she could without drawing notice, and made the zig-zag route back to her office. When he rounded the last corner behind her, she knew that’s where he must also be headed.

  She dove through the open door and ran around behind her desk. In her hurry, she stumbled and banged her knee on the hard corner. She swore under her breath at the streak of pain, but worked through it while she frantically looked over her desk for something to busy herself with before Jonathon appeared. Her eyes landed on the black gift box. Then she looked up, surprised to see Denise come breezing in first.

  “You’ll never guess who I just saw out in the parking lot.” Her smile grew wider, and she laughed.

  “Who?” Jillian asked, catching her breath.

  She swiped a stray lock of hair from her face and eased into an awkward smile. She didn’t even remember the question.

  “Your boyfriend’s back.” Denise walked up to the desk, surveying her appearance. “You look like you’ve been running. Why are you all sweaty?”

  “Jillian.” Jonathon stormed into her office. “I need a minute.”

  He cut Denise an abrupt glance. His rude way of dismissing her when he wanted to speak to Jillian alone.

  “What is it?” Jillian hated to ask, but she didn’t know what else to do.

  Just knowing that he had her personal file in his desk drawer, along with a loaded gun, made her wary. What did he really want?

  Trust no one had been her grandfather’s advice. So how had her clever grandfather trusted Jonathon, when Jillian had seen through his ploy all along?

  He’d been too perfect, his timing and qualifications absolutely flawless. His manners the same.

  Then he’d started asking about the ring.

  She had a feeling there was something more behind the untimely death of her grandparents, and it most certainly had to do with Jonathon. She wanted the truth, but knew she wasn’t going to get it today.

  “Would you excuse us?” Jonathon finally spoke to Denise.

  “I was here first,” Denise replied.

  Just what Jillian needed. An argument between the two of them.

  “And as your employer, I’m telling you to go.” Jonathon’s expression soured and he looked about ready to snap.

  Denise plopped down in one of the chairs in front of Jillian’s desk and crossed her long legs, her white pleated skirt hiking up her thigh. “Wait your turn.”

  Jonathon stomped his foot. “No, now.”

  Jillian and Denise shared a bewildered look. He was like a child having a tantrum.

  “Jonathon, please, come back another time,” Jillian said. “I’m busy.”

  “You should never be too busy for me,” his voice lowered. “Never.”

  His enraged look creeped Jillian out, and a shiver raced down her spine.

  It was all real.

  And she wanted to get the hell out of there.

  “Why don’t you ease up on her a little?” Denise came to her defense. “The opening is tomorrow night, so if it isn’t done by now, it isn’t getting done.”

  Jonathon turned to look at Denise, and the way he moved his head was almost stiff and robotic.

  Creepy.

  Denise flashed him her prettiest smile. “She’s taking me to lunch. She does get a lunch break, doesn’t she?”

  “One hour.” Jonathon raised his index finger for emphasis.

  After one last look at Jillian he stomped out of her office.

  Denise wrinkled up her nose. “That was weird.”

  “Don’t trust him,” Jillian blurted out in warning.

  She wished she could tell Denise what was happening, but she didn’t know where to start.

  Her cell phone rang.

  Black question mark.

  Mr. Smith.

  She answered, but he spoke first. “Meet me outside in the parking lot.”

  “Hello,” she said. “It’s nice to hear from you.”

  “Is Jonathon there?”

  “He just left.”

  “You have to get out of there. Meet me outside.”

  “What did you find?”

  “I’ll tell you later. Outside, Ms. Whitmore.” His tone turned more brusque than usual. “I’m waiting.”

  End call.

  “Who was that?” Denise asked, wriggling her eyebrows. “Lover boy?”

  “He’s outside.”

  “I know.” Denise rose from the chair and walked over to the window looking out onto the street. “I told you I saw him.”

  “I have to go.” Jillian grabbed her purse and the black gift box from her desk. “We’ll have to save lunch for another time.”

  She had a lot to do in order to make sure that promise came true, and it all started with the man down in the parking lot.

  “I like this side of you.” Denise folded her arms in front of her as she scrutinized Jillian with a critical squint. “This guy is good for you. I was afraid you might be getting jaded, ready to quit men altogether. They aren’t all like Kevin, you know.”

  Jillian knew she couldn’t let the cruel actions of one man rule her for the rest of her life, but it was hard to open herself up to trust a man again.

  “What crime did I commit in a past life to get stuck with a psycho stalker?”

  “Hey, what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, right?” Denise shrugged a shoulder.

  Jillian didn’t feel stronger. She couldn’t even make it through an entire day without taking her pills.

  “What’s in the box?”

  Jillian flushed with embarrassment and tucked the box under her arm. “It’s nothing.”

  “It doesn’t look like nothing.” Denise smiled, inching closer.

  Jillian rolled her eyes, knowing Denise wouldn’t let her go without getting the details. “It’s from him.”

  “Oh my God, it’s sexy underwear!”

  “Keep your voice down.” Jillian glanced at the open doorway to make sure no one had heard Denise practically jumping for joy.

  “Can I pick ‘em, or can I pick ‘em?” She teased in her Jersey girl accent. “Don’t let me keep you waiting. Men like that don’t come along every day.”

  They shared a conspiratorial smile, and Jillian reached out her free arm and hugged her friend close. Hopefully not for the last time.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.” Denise patted her on the back. “The opening is going to be great. Your grandparents would be really proud.”

  Jillian liked to think so.

  “Thanks.” She hugged Denise tighter.

  “For what?”

  “Just being you, being my friend.”

  Denise released their hug to look at her. “Don’t get all soft on me, you were just coming around.” She laughed. “You’ve got a hot man waiting for you, so go get him.”