Even the fallen have wings.
Emera runs The Denizen, a place where the wicked come to be spanked and whipped. All she longs for is someone to love. When she starts receiving gifts and strange invitations, she begins to wonder who has an interest in her.
Keenan has searched for Emera for centuries. Even though he wants to barge into the Den and rescue her, he has to be sure that she is still the pure angel he remembers. If not, he will have to do the impossible.
In order to free Emera from the service of her demon lord, Keenan has to slay her Master. Sebastian is on to both of them and will stop at nothing to keep Emera with him.
He stared at the wrapped package once more and wondered if he should send this one. With each token, he questioned if he was doing the right thing. Keenan ran his hand through his blond hair. This was the fifth time he had sent her a present. Each time he sent a gift, it killed him a little more because he couldn’t see her reaction. He couldn’t wait until the day he could use all of the contraptions on her. Before that happened, though, he had to know if he was taking the correct course of action. He prayed that he was, but he got no confirmation from above.
He got up from the bed and stretched. His room was modest. Spartan. It was good to keep it that way and not have any attachments in his life. It had been that way for many years since he began his new profession. He stood before the mirror and flicked a piece of lint from his shirt. He rubbed his hand above his heart. The brand on his chest itched, but he ignored it. The sword in the corner of his room winked in the light. A slight blue sheen outlined the weapon. It had been with him for a very long time. Feeling the pull toward the blade, he picked up the sword. It was light in his grasp, but once his hand connected with the pommel the blue energy shot up his arm and through his whole body, causing his brand to burn. He closed his eyes and shivered, enjoying the short burst of pain.
“You know you’re doing the right thing, don’t you?”
“Am I? I’ve been asking myself the very same question for over a year now.” He gazed at the visitor. Dressed all in black, with red hair and light gray eyes, his handler had been with him since the beginning. Keenan let the question roll through his mind once more. Yes, he was doing his duty, but was he doing the right thing? Each time he saw her, he asked himself if he was fooling himself. Or maybe, just maybe, the woman he saw, who was so embroiled in the dark side, still had a spark of light embedded inside of her.
“It’s the only way to make sure. You have to make the judgment call. It has to be now. You’ve been in and out of that den of sin for a year doing recon, but we have our orders. I’ve let you go on long enough so you’d be sure. I can’t delay any longer. You have to strike soon. If you don’t, then the entire lair will be cleansed. I won’t be able to stop it. Make up your mind. Tell her who you are, or smite her along with the demon.”
