wo Weeks Later

So this was their sordid little love nest. Mimi let herself into the dark apartment. She had found a key that she'd never seen before in Jack's room. She had suspected where it led, and she knew he wouldn't be long in coming.

The door opened silently, and Jack entered.

The look on her brother's face told her all she needed to know. Mimi smiled to herself. So the little half-blood finally cut her ties.

"You've won," Jack said softly. He looked at Mimi with such fiery hatred that she almost cowered at his words. But she was no weakling. She was Azrael, and Azrael did not cower, not even to Abbadon.

"I've won nothing," Mimi replied coldly. "Please remember that almost all of the Elders are dead, that the Dark Prince is ascendant, and what is left of the Conclave is being led by a broken man who used to be the strongest of us all. And yet all you seem to care about, my darling, is that you no longer get to play with your little love toy."

Instead of answering her, Jack flew across the room and slapped her hard across the face, sending her crashing to the floor. But before he could wield another blow, Mimi leaped up and slammed him against the window, knocking him completely out of breath.

"Is this what you want?" she hissed as she lifted him up by his shirt collar, his face turning a ghastly shade of red.

"Don't let me destroy you," he sneered.

"Just try, my sweet."

Jack twisted out of her grasp and flipped her over, kicking her down the length of the room. She sprung up with her hands clenched, her nails sharp as claws, and fangs bared. They met halfway in the air, and Jack put a hand on her throat and began to squeeze. But she scratched at his eyes and wrenched her body so that she was rolling on top of him, her sword at his throat, with the upper hand.

SUBMIT. Mimi sent.

NEVER.

You are mine.

You are wrong.

Mimi threw him across the room. Both of them were bruised and bloody. Mimi's blouse was ripped in half, and Jack's shirt was torn at the collar.

Jack attacked again - this time pinning Mimi to the ground. His breath was hot in her ear. She could feel his body tense, rigid, and pulsing on top of hers, could almost see the red aura of his rage.

"You want this," she said slyly. "You want me."

"No."

"Yes."

He twisted her arms behind her back, pinned his knees against her hips, then tightened his grip on her wrists so that they grew purple with bruises. For weeks, the shape of his fingers would be imprinted on her flesh.

For a moment she was truly terrified. This was Abbadon the Cruel. The Angel of Destruction. He could and would destroy her if he had to. If he felt like it. He had destroyed worlds before. He had decimated Paradise in the name of the Morningstar.

She trembled in his grasp.

All his gentleness, all his kindness, all the bright shining gorgeousness of his love, he had always given to someone else. He had adored Gabrielle, had worshipped her, had written her poems and sang her songs, and for Schuyler there were novels and love notes and sweet kisses and furtive tender meetings by a fireplace.

But for his twin, Azrael, he had shown nothing but his anger and violence. His strength and destruction.

He saved the best of himself for those who did not deserve it. Never showed his true face to those damnable Daughters of the Light.

For Azrael, there was only darkness and annihilation.

Rape and carnage.

War and pillage.

A tear escaped from her eye and glittered in the moonlight.

But just as Mimi thought he would destroy her forever, Jack began kissing her with such force that her lips and neck would be sore and swollen with his bites. In answer, she pulled him toward her, as hard as she could, by the roots of his hair.

Love. It's so close to hate, it's almost indistinguishable.

But this is how it was for the two of them.

Love and hate.

Life and death.

Joy and anguish.

Finally he lay still against her, drifting into a dreamless sleep. She smoothed his hair from his brow and called his name softly. Abbadon the Unlikely. Named so because his wistful nature masked a cold and fierce rage.

The Destroyer of Worlds, and the emperor of her own heart.

One day he would thank her for saving his life.