Demon Forged

dragon from the prophecy? The one who will rise?”
    “I do not know if it is the same.” He stared into the mirrored chamber with obsidian eyes. “This one, she has seen escape Chaos through a portal that Anaria creates. I have no words to describe the devastation it can—” His jaw clenched. He faced her. “Everything that can burn, does. Cities, villages. Forests and the plains. People. So many people.”
    He projected images that made her throat close, pushed her stomach up against her heart. Humans—children. No one had escaped it. The world burned, and demons rode the dragon’s back.
    “This was the Second Battle?” When Michael and the other grigori had fought with the angels to stop the dragon and Lucifer.
    He nodded. “We chased the dragon across half the world before we stopped it.”
    Before Michael had cut through its heart with his sword—but not without a price. Irena had only recently learned that, too.
    “You died.”
    “Yes. I would again, to prevent another from coming here.”
    Irena’s blood chilled. She remembered his dread, his fear. “Does Khavi foresee this dragon killing you?”
    “No.” He looked away from her, toward the mirrored chamber again. “But it is why, if Colin or Savitri sees that Anaria has made her way into Chaos, we will have to lead the others in after her.”
    By the gods, Irena hoped that would not happen. But if it did, she would do what needed to be done. “What would she want there?”
    “If her goal is the same—Lucifer’s throne—she will want both a dragon, for its power, and access to Hell. She will try to break through the frozen barrier, and mount her attack on Lucifer.”
    “With only her nephilim?”
    “There is no only about the nephilim, except on Earth. In Hell, they are not bound to the physical forms they’ve had to inhabit here.” He glanced at her, and she read his worry in the line that formed between his brows. “I do not know how strong they will be in Chaos.”
    “Khavi can’t see that?”
    “Khavi cannot see what she doesn’t know.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “No one but Khavi knows. And I am not always certain that she does.”
    The exasperation in his reply sparked her laugh. He laughed quietly in return, and that was how Olek found them a moment later, followed by Detective Taylor.
    Irena’s heart tripped against her ribs. She remained seated, but her gaze feasted on him, the graceful swordsman’s stride that brought him a quarter of the way into the room, the lean strength of his hands as he reported to Michael in the space of two steps—and with his report finished, the darkness of his eyes as they fastened on her, the shallow dent in his chin that she wanted to slide her thumb across, to kiss before searching his lips.
    I have not seen you enough, he signed. Now I cannot look away.
    He never had. You have always watched me.
    It has never been enough. But it was what I had.
    They had more now. Her thighs tightened as she recalled the surge of his body into hers. And a slow melting warmth stole through her when she remembered the strength of his arms around her as she’d grieved. She’d never needed anyone to do that for her before—or perhaps she’d never allowed herself to admit that she wanted it. But want or need, Olek was an answer to both. A lover, a friend—she didn’t think the two had ever combined so well. And still there was more.
    She held back her reply as Taylor hesitated beside Olek, then came to sit at the other end of Irena’s sofa. Michael had fallen silent when they’d come into the room; now his eyes—amber again—tracked the detective’s every move.
    “It is sunset?” Irena asked. She did not know what time it was here—or even what day.
    “Almost,” Taylor said, looking up at Michael. “Which means that I’m all yours.”
    And she didn’t need Olek to protect her now. Do you have another assignment? Irena asked him.
    Not immediately.
    The color of his eyes deepened. Irena squeezed her legs together. Anticipation curled low, a smoking flame.
    “You have the scent of Rael’s house upon you, detective,” Michael said abruptly.
    Taylor’s eyes widened. “What does that mean? What the hell does his house smell like?” She lifted the lapel of her jacket to her nose and sniffed.
    Irena was not certain whether to take pity on Taylor or Michael. She chose Taylor. “He is joking. Alejandro has already told him that you visited Wren.”
    “Jok—” Her mouth fell open