Free Azrael's Light [Demon Runners of Unearth] (Siren Publishing Classic) by Amy J. Hawthorn Page A

you have no blame in this.” Azrael was surely no saint, but in this she had no doubt he was clean, and it always pained her to see innocents drawn into her sister’s messes. Would she ever learn? No, if having her only child in the center of one of her own catastrophes wasn’t enough to teach her caution, nothing would.
    “Then why are you shouldering what should be your sister’s burden? You did nothing to cause this and weren’t even told about it. She could have at least told you not to be surprised when Death appeared knocking at your door. It might have even saved us some time.”
    “You’re right, but it’s hard to let go of the worry.” The hand rubbing soft sweeps up and down her back stopped, left, and moved up to grip her chin. He tugged until she was looking him in the eye.
    “You care deeply about Alia. You’re entitled to your worry. You are not entitled to your guilt.” His low, sexy voice seduced her, not quite letting her indignation rise.
    “Allowed? Who are you to allow me anything?”
    “I’m no one, except in this. In this I am your master.” His hand cupped her jaw, slid behind her neck, and tangled in her hair, restraining her and accepting no argument. His mouth descended and claimed hers in a kiss that reached her soul. His lips nibbled on hers until she opened, allowing his tongue free rein to have its way with hers. Pulling back just a fraction, he bit her bottom lip and held her in place, commanding her attention. With her gaze trapped in his, he let go.
    “Now. Tell me your name.”
    “It’s Diane.”
    “Diane. Until this is done, you will obey me in this. There is no time for guilt or worry.” Her breath caught somewhere between her ribs and heart, and for a moment she thought he went all dark and dominant because he cared, not because of their all-too-short timeframe. His words said otherwise. But his kiss? It contradicted his words and gave her questions substance.
    Stepping back, he raked her with his gaze. His chest rose deeper with each breath. He turned his head, looked up at the moon, and paused. She waited as he stood still and silent, as if the weight of the world waited impatiently on his shoulders. She imagined it wasn’t far from the truth.
    Finally, as if coming to a difficult decision, he turned, stepped to her, and towered, a dark, seductive stalker. The city’s lights cast shadows beneath his arched cheekbones. Full, sensual lips quirked in an awkward smile as if conceding that he’d lost some secret battle to her.
    “And tonight I need you to obey me in this.” In a flash, his hand was in a soft, firm grip at the base of her skull, her hair tangled in his hand. With a tenderness that belied his words, his mouth descended on hers. Speechless, powerless against him, she opened and let him in. He licked into her mouth, sending her into a tailspin of decadent sensations. “Put your hands on my shoulders. Don’t move them.” Without thought, she put them at the curve where his corded, muscled throat met his broad shoulders. She slipped them down a few inches and beneath the collar of his coat.
    “It’s at least seventy-five degrees in here. Why don’t you ditch the coat?” Though she meant the question in a seductive and playful way, he answered her in a dead-serious tone as he zeroed in on her neck. When his mumbled answer vibrated against the skin of her throat, she wanted to weep for him.
    “I spend too much time dropping souls in Hell and the other dark, cold places of Unearth. Not many go to the realms of warmth and light anymore. I’m chilled to the bone, desperate for warmth.” And peace. He kept the last words to himself, but somehow she heard them whispered in her mind.
    His breath against her throat was anything but cold as heated ripples of need slid through her. His tongue licked up under the line of her jaw to where it met her ear. Firm hands bracketed her ribs and slid up, lifting her breasts. His thumbs swept soft, subtle caresses