Sins of the Lost by Linda Poitevin Read Free Book Online Page A

Holding you, loving you, cradling you close. And the beat of your heart inside your chest? My very life force, made manifest in you.”
    The One lifted her hand, pressing it against a soft, lined cheek. “This, the physical part of me to which you cling, this is but a tiny fraction of what I am, my angel. I am so, so much more than what you can touch or see or feel. I am everything. All you have to do is want to understand that.”
    Verchiel sat. Listened. Strained to feel what the One described to her. She shook her head.
    “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, “for not being strong enough.”
    “Hush, child. After all you have been, all you have done, you have nothing for which to apologize. You are as strong as you need to be. The rest will come in time.”
    Verchiel pressed a hand against the ache in her chest. This struggle was her own. The One did not need the extra burden of her doubt; she needed her help. Even if helping meant losing her.
    “Tell me what you need me to do.”
    “Watch over the Archangel Mika’el for me. He takes on too much—more than he needs to—and he’s terrible at asking for help.”
    “He doubts Seth.”
    The Creator of All looked out over the garden. Her gaze became distant again, her face shadowed with a sorrow that made Verchiel’s own pale in comparison.
    “As do I, Verchiel,” she murmured. “As do I.”

Chapter 11
    Alex steered down the ramps and around the pillars of the underground parking complex. Fatigue sat heavy behind her eyes, the result of another mostly sleepless night spent staring at the ceiling. Returning to work had seemed like a good idea, but now she wondered how long she could keep it up. Playing at being a cop, pretending everything was normal and not teetering on the edge of total destruction.
    Just another day at the office.
    Yawning, she rounded the final corner to her parking level. The sedan straightened out again . . .
    And bore down on a man directly in its path.
    Adrenaline shot through her and she jammed her foot onto the brake, but it was too late. She had no room to get around him, nowhere to go, no time. She braced for the impact. The car jerked to a halt, and she stared in horror out the windshield at—
    Nothing.
    No one slumped across the hood. No one hurled to the pavement by the collision of steel against flesh. No one at—
    A tap sounded at the window beside her.
    “Christ!” She whipped around in her seat, then froze. An emerald gaze met hers, holding it with a familiar, shoulder-knotting intensity. She stared at the arrogant features, the watchful stance, the broad expanse of black wings.
    Michael.
    A hundred possible reasons for his presence flitted through her mind, none of them good. For a second, she considered putting the vehicle back into gear and driving away. She might have done so if she thought she could get away with it.
    But she didn’t think one ignored an Archangel.
    Reaching for the electric window button, she saw that the glass between them had already dissolved. The desire to run away grew exponentially. She clamped her teeth together.
    “Naphil.” Michael’s tone was reserved. Guarded.
    Irritation sparked. They were back to that, were they?
    “Archangel,” she responded.
    Annoyance flared in the green depths. Good. Maybe he’d get the message . . . eventually.
    “We need to speak.”
    “About what?” Glancing in the rearview mirror, she saw another vehicle pull up behind her. “Wait. I need to move. There’s a café across the street from the main door. I’ll park and meet you there.”
    Michael hesitated, most likely weighing the chance she might not show up. The car behind Alex tooted its horn. His gaze flicking toward the sound, Michael nodded, withdrew behind a concrete pillar, and vanished. Alex stared at the emptiness left behind, convinced she would never, ever get used to the disappearing act.
    A second impatient toot jolted her back to the present. She waved a hand out the windowless