Free Archangel of Mercy by Christina Ashcroft

entirely lacking.
    He marched into his dressing room and grabbed a black shirt from the timber closets built into the walls.
    It was galling to know that even now he still wanted her. But he’d be damned if he was going to pursue her like a lust-struck mortal. Sooner or later she’d succumb to the desire in her blood and
she
would come to
him
.
    In the meantime he intended to find a couple of willing females and fuck their primitive brains out.
    —
    AURORA HOVERED AT the bottom of the stairs, but as the minutes slid by he still didn’t reappear. What was he doing?
    Waiting for an apology?
    She could swallow her pride enough to say she was sorry for accusing him of expecting sex as payment for having rescued her. It was a stupid notion in any case. He knew full well she’d wanted him from the minute he’d landed on top of her.
    But she’d also make it clear that she wanted some answers. Make that a lot of answers. Because by god, she had a lot of questions.
    She made her way up the stairs. The stone was worn, as if they had endured the steps of thousands over the centuries. She glanced over her shoulder and paused for a second to admire the sheer simplicity of the hallway and the endless windows with their breathtaking views. He apparently lived in paradise.
    Upstairs were five timber doors—one to her left, an enormous double one directly ahead and two on the right.
    “Hello?”
    Silence greeted her. Heart hammering, she gingerly pushed open the first door on her right.
    The room was completely empty. She tried the second door, with the same result.
    The doors ahead beckoned. So she tried the one on her left.
    It was obviously his office. The one he had forbidden her to enter. She nearly walked straight in, just to prove she could, but decided it wouldn’t help her attempt at apologizing if he suddenly emerged onto the landing and caught her.
    She eyed the last doors. They must have been about ten-feet high and six feet across and if she didn’t know better she’d think he was trying to compensate for something.
    “I know you’re in there.” She tried to make her voice sound commanding but wasn’t at all sure she’d succeeded. “Can you come out so we can talk?” Because she really didn’t want to have a discussion in his bedroom. It would be too distracting.
    More silence. He obviously wanted her to grovel. He was going to be disappointed.
    “I didn’t mean what I said just now.”
Was he listening?
“I’m just—look, do you think you could come out because I feel like an idiot talking to your door.”
    The silence became oppressive and unease knotted her stomach. Before she could stop to think of the possible consequences she pushed open the doors.
    His bedroom suite was magnificent in its simplicity. The bed dominated, a massive timber four-poster, so huge it could easily accommodate six people.
And it probably did
. She scowled, dragged her gaze away and then stared in reluctant awe at the fabulous view through the open double doors.
    Slowly she made her way toward the balcony and then stopped at the doorway, senses reeling. The balcony extended the length of the villa and was just as wide.
But there was no safety barrier.
Even from where she stood it was enough to give her a whisper of vertigo.
    She swung around and stepped back into his bedroom. A carved archway led to another room. His bathroom? She decided she didn’t care. Because it was glaringly obvious he wasn’t here.
    Her good intentions to apologize and have a rational conversation with him evaporated. The bastard had
teleported
, leaving her up the creek.
    She swung on her heel and marched back down the stairs. She might not possess the technology he did in order to teleport but she wasn’t as stranded as he imagined.
    She
would
escape. And he would be . . . astounded.
    —
    GABE RETURNED TO the club in Manhattan. It was a long shot, but Mephisto might still be there. But after scanning the darkened interior and asking the