Free Conquer the Dark by L. A. Banks

jump seat in the back.
    “Azrael, I don’t know what’s—”
    His kiss was feral and punishing as his hands threaded through her hair. He pulled her against him and spoke in a hot rush against her ear. “This vortex is one of three in the motherland of humanity. The Nile Valley waters flow from south to north like no other river in the world, up from the Garden of Eden to give birth to where mankind settled east of Eden.” His voice was a harsh, sensual rush that sent a shudder of want through her. “The power here, where the original Tree of Knowledge grew … the air is electric, it is where we all came in … where the vibrations enter our cells and magnify everything—then with the sun and the sacred geometry created here … the Giza plateau is a landing strip … it’s … it’s …”
    “Okay, okay, sit back and breathe through it,” she said quietly as the landing gear of the plane disengaged from the body of the aircraft.
    Pushing him against the seat, she watched him wince as the plane bounced into a touchdown and then raised its flaps. It almost seemed as if Azrael and his brothers had identified with the aircraft, their bodies straining with the jumbo jet as it came to a slow, rolling stop.
    Winded from the emotional drama of it all, she sat back and took in several breaths herself. What the hell had just happened?
    Nausea had been the precursor to her last highly eventful ten minutes of the flight, not any kind of cosmicpower surge. She had initially felt something ominous and dark when she’d awakened, not the euphoria of battle that Azrael and the others had just experienced. But now was not the time to debrief all that. She just wondered how the unseen angels flanking the plane’s wing positions had taken all of this, or were they part of the reason the interior group was having a collective meltdown? Whatever the cause, she was definitely worried about how the testosterone rush was going to effect them once they stepped foot on actual Egyptian soil.
    Impatience grated her as the double-row, passenger-packed flight taxied to the Jetway. Then there was the nerve-fraying wait as people jangled with luggage and small, wailing children. Celeste counted to ten, just wanting to get off the freakin’ plane, trying her best not to lose it. Screaming at people to just move out of the way would solve nothing, and knowing that there really were angels and a Higher Power, did she truly want to yell at disabled, elderly people who clogged the aisle or a mom with four little kids and no help?
    Summoning calm, she waited in the most civil mode possible, hoping that four battle-ready angels didn’t just clear the aisle like first responders might in a blaze. They were more stressed out than she was, and when she saw Gavreel—the frickin’ Angel of Peace—wipe his palms down his face as a lady with a bunch of packages took her sweet old time keeping it moving, she
knew
something was in the air. Maggie looked to be three seconds from slapping the annoying diva in the aisle, and Aziza was body-blocking Bath Kol. Finally he snapped.
    “People have been on this flight for almost thirteendamned hours, hon—step into the aisle and let people out who do not have all the shit you have! All right! Can you do that?”
    Aziza closed her eyes as the stricken woman scooted into the seating area and glared at Bath Kol.
    “Thank you,” he muttered. “I’m just sayin’.”
    Sarcastic applause came from the rear of the plane, which was probably the only reason Aziza didn’t die of mortification. But Bath Kol’s outburst broke the bottleneck and freedom was in sight.
    Almost running out of the aircraft, customs forms in hand, they barely acknowledged the crew’s standard debark farewell. The second they crossed the threshold, they left the shelter of perfect temperature modulation to a hundred-degree blast of Egyptian reality in the Jetway. Immediately Celeste caught Azrael under his elbow as he staggered, walking