Azrael Quotes

I don't know who Azazel is," he said. "Isn't he the cat from The Smurfs?" He cast about , but Isabelle just looked up and rolled her eyes at him. "Clary?" he thought Her voice came through, tinged with alarm. "What is it? What happened? Did my mom find out I'm gone?" "Not yet," he thought back. "Is Azazel the cat from The Smurfs?" There was a long pause. "That's Azrael, Simon. And no more using the magic rings for Smurf questions.

Clary?" he thought. Her voice came through, tinged with alarm. "What is it? What's happened? Did my mom find out I'm gone?" "Not yet," he thought back. "Is Azazel the cat from the Smurfs?" There was a long pause. "That's Azrael, Simon. And no more using the magic rings for Smurfs question.

AZRAEL: No pleasure, no rapture, no exquisite sin greater... than central air.

ALL THINGS THAT ARE, ARE OURS. BUT WE MUST CARE. FOR IF WE DO NOT CARE, WE DO NOT EXIST. IF WE DO NOT EXIST, THEN THERE IS NOTHING BUT BLIND OBLIVION. AND EVEN OBLIVION MUST END SOMEDAY. LORD, WILL YOU GRANT ME JUST A LITTLE TIME? FOR THE PROPER BALANCE OF THINGS. TO RETURN WHAT WAS GIVEN. FOR THE SAKE OF PRISONERS AND THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS. Death took a step backwards. It was impossible to read expression in Azrael's features. Death glanced sideways at the servants. LORD, WHAT CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR, IF NOT FOR THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN?

Maybe she'd been drinking too much of the super-sweet Mexican Coca-Cola they had down here. Or maybe she was just tired, alone, and far from home. Because somewhere in the brittle, concrete center of Azrael's dark heart, something was melting.

I didn’t remember how long we talked, but somewhere amidst her laughter and smiles, I decided I would rip the world apart for her.

Do not cry for me, Azrael. Do not waste your tears. You made your decision. And this is mine. Sacrifice seems to be my destiny. A funny thing for a selfish man, isn't it? They always called me weak back then...

I have never given this ring, my soul, to anyone. Azrael has never had any part of this. This is the only part of myself that is truly mine, and now it is yours.” —Jack Force

When were were cast out of Paradise, we lost part of our soul forever. As part of our punishment, we were cursed never to learn to love again. Instead, we were bound to a destiny that was set from the beginning. Azrael and I never chose each other; the choice was made for us. We never knew anything else. The ring you hold is part of my soul that your mother helped me recover. It was she who saved us from the Dark and led us back to the Light. As her daughter, you too are an Angel of Light. The fire does not harm you. I lost the ring during the crisis in Rome. But now it has been returned to me. This ring has been blessed by Gabrielle herself. I have never given this ring, my soul, to anyone. Azrael has never had any part in this. This is the only part of myself that is truly mine, and now it is yours.

We were destined to fight until the sky bled and worlds shook. But when he touched me, cradled my face as if I was the most fragile, beautiful being in the world, I melted.

<spoiler>Azrael... In a flash, they disappeared. The path, the gate, the demon, and the Silver Blood. Kingsley was gone. Trapped in Hell for eternity. Mimi collapsed to the ground, as if her heart had imploded in her chest.</spoiler>

She is pretty for a fire-wielding death bitch that tried to kill us all.

You already consume my every waking thought. Must you consume my dreams as well?

Kingsley smiled his Cheshire smile. And without a word, he called up the white darkness—the subvertio—a spell that unlocked what could not be unlocked, that destroyed what could not be destroyed. There was a rumbling, a shaking, like the strongest earthquake, and the iron gate crumbled, and the path began to melt. the demon shrieked, but Kingsley just looked at Mimi the entire time. "Azrael...

Don't you know? Love is the purest form of destruction there is.

He bit his lip and wrapped his hand around my wrist. "Squeeze harder. I almost feel something.

You do not get on my nerves all the time. Sometimes you are mildly amusing.

I will never be a leader like you." "Excellent. Be greater.

One by one the angels had come to the top of Har Megiddo where I sat, holding her body close to mine after she'd died. I'd fought alongside them in battle, but up close, when they stood quietly watching us, they looked as beautiful as they looked unreal. the angels weren't supposed to feel emotions, but they were all weeping. All of them. Their tear stained their flawless faces like rain running in rivulets across stone. Azrael was the only one of then who came to me, knelt in front of me and took her from my arms. He was the angel of death come to carry his sister home. I din't want to give her up, knowing it would be the last time I ever saw her face. I had died on that wretched hill with her.

She was my enemy, yet my enemy was the only one who seemed to understand me and the demons I fought.

You can’t break me, World Ender.

And at the end of all stories Azrael, who knew the secret, thought: I REMEMBER WHEN ALL THIS WILL BE AGAIN.

Do not cry for me, Azrael. Do not waste your tears. You made your decision." -Kingsley

mortal enemies with benefits

With the right person, a kiss was so much more than a kiss. It was pure, unfiltered ecstasy.

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 worshiped 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.

Then I wish for you to infect me.

You’ve done so well, Marcus,” I told him. “If you find Azrael, please thank him for me. And give Kate my love.

Clary, ¿Azazel es el gato de Los Pitufos? -No Simon, ese es Azrael. Y no vuelvas a usar el anillo para hacerme preguntas de Los Pitufos.

Azrael’s hand is on your shoulder, Human. I am here for your soul." - Racath Thanjel

There is a plain under a dim sky. It is covered with gentle rolling curves that might remind you of something else if you saw it from a long way away, and if you did see it from a long way away you'd be very glad that you were, in fact, a long way away. Three gray figures floated just above it. Exactly what they were can't be described in normal language. Some people might call them cherubs, although there was nothing rosy-cheeked about them. They might be rumored among those who see to it that gravity operates and that time stays separate from space. Call them auditors. Auditors of reality. They were in conversation without speaking. They didn't need to speak. They just changed reality so that they had spoken. One said, It has never happened before. Can it be done? One said, It will have to be done. There is a personality. Personalities come to an end. Only forces endure. It said this with satisfaction. One said, Besides... there have been irregularities. Where you get personality, you get irregularities. Well-known fact. One said, He has worked inefficiently? One said, No. We can't get him there. One said, That is the point. The word is him. Becoming a personality is inefficient. We don't want it to spread. Supposing gravity developed a personality? Supposing it decided to like people? One said, Got a crush on them, that sort of thing? One said, in a voice that would have been even chillier if it was not already at absolute zero, No. One said, Sorry. Just my little joke. One said, Besides, sometimes he wonders about his job. Such speculation is dangerous. One said, No argument there. One said, Then we are agreed? One, who seemed to have been thinking about something, said, Just one moment. Did you not just use the singular pronoun "my?" Not developing a personality, are you? One said, guiltily, Who? Us? One said, Where there is personality, there is discord. One said, Yes. Yes. Very true. One said, All right. But watch it in future. One said, Then we are agreed? They looked up at the face of Azrael, outlined against the sky. In fact, it was the sky. Azrael nodded, slowly. One said, Very well. Where is this place? One said, It is the Discworld. It rides through space on the back of a giant turtle. One said, Oh, one of that sort. I hate them. One said, You're doing it again. You said "I." One said, No! No! I didn't! I never said "I!"... oh, bugger... It burst into flame and burned in the same way that a small cloud of vapor burns, quickly and with no residual mess. Almost immediately, another one appeared. It was identical in appearance to its vanished sibling. One said, Let that be a lesson. To become a personality is to end. And now... let us go.

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.

Excuse me? I am not bedding anyone, you ancient jerk.

You are already dangerous, Dianna, now let’s make you lethal.

I decided that was my favorite, too. I didn’t remember how long we talked, but somewhere amidst her laughter and smiles, I decided I would rip the world apart for her.

Get off me!" Badger tried to roll away, but Azrael held his palms over the baker's eyes again and more white light poured out. "You're blinding me! Stop!" "No," said Azrael. "Please!" "I can't hear you over the sound of my total indifference.

They say you’re a god. Hard to kill and damn near invincible. Weapons have to be forged to snuff out that precious light.” She took another step before stopping, her head tipping ever so slightly as she gauged my people and me. “Does that make you fireproof?

I thought I’d lost you." It was a whisper and his gaze flicked to mine as if he were shocked he had said the words out loud. "You know better than that. I am impossible to get rid of."  I shook my head with a smile playing on my lips as I threw his words back at him. "like an infection.

Two healthy kids.” Ky pushed his hands through his long blond hair. “Azrael and Talitha. Li named them both. Some biblical shit.” He shrugged. “Don’t fucking care. After seeing her cut open to get them out, but so fucking strong, smiling through it all, she could have named the kids Cuntface and Shithead if she’d wanted to and I wouldn’t have cared.

James had taken his own life, but the need to do so was not something easily explained. He had the life he wanted: money, a home, a job, a wife, a good friend. I’d known people who died at their own hand because life became unbearable, or because something happened, something terrible. That wasn’t so for James—there was something inside him, something a part of him, something over which he had no control, but which had absolute control over him.

Frustrating woman

But I have to believe everything happens for a reason, even stuff like that. We can’t live in the past, D. Nothing grows there.

I also promise that he will never lay a hand on you again. If he even tries to take you away, I promise I’ll make him regret ever being born.

That’s not a quake. That’s my sister.

Soft and peaceful were things not known here.

Eyes bore into every inch of me, but the ones that made me hesitate were the ones that burned crimson: Kaden.

The Archangels spent hundreds of years dealing with Azrael. I came onto the scene and took care of it all within three years. Bitches get shit done.

Azrael, the Mohammedan angel of the sepulchre, would have turned back, and thought that he had mistaken the door.

Are you deliberately trying to waste our time," Hal asked in an icy voice, "or are you just being petty?" "A little of both," said Azrael.

(You met Azrael before me, JP. Say hi to him from me …)

Anubis. Yama. Xoltol. Vanth. Charon. Mors. Mara. Azrael—and many, many others.” His eyes flick to mine. “But for you, Thanatos.

Resurrection, no matter the circumstances, is forbidden. You do not gain something so precious as a life without paying a hefty price. There are some things that even we cannot afford,

Two healthy kids.” Ky pushed his hands through his long blond hair. “Azrael and Talitha. Li named them both. Some biblical shit.” He shrugged. “Don’t fucking care. After seeing her cut open to get them out, but so fucking strong, smiling through it all, she could have named the kids Cuntface and Shithead if she’d wanted to and I wouldn’t have cared.” AK and Styx laughed.

I am here on behalf of the people of the west. I speak for the Burrows.” “Ohh,” the Demon said, mockery dripping from the word. It made an exaggerated bow, its movements smooth as flowing magma. “An emissary! How quaint. I would expect introductions are in order, then. I am called Briz’nar, Greater Demon, Hand to the Duke of Milonok, and Commander of the Guard.” “That’s delightful,” Racath scowled. “You can call me Azrael.

Joshua had always been able to get away with things—things for which he should never have been forgiven. He was a lot like James in that respect, for while my husband had bought his grace with his brilliance, Joshua did so with his looks. I considered that a moment, before turning away, suddenly finding I could not bear to look at him for fear of what I might forgive next.

Was James bipolar?” The tears returned, and I watched her battle them. “We don’t use that word in our family.” I stared at her for a moment. “Why not?” “Mum and Dad don’t believe in it.” She kept walking. “James was always … troubled. But there was nothing wrong with him, nothing more than anyone else anyway, everyone feels a bit down sometimes.” “Olivia! It was more than feeling down.” She laughed, bitterly. “I know, Dee, fuck, do I know that. I’m just telling you how it goes. The party line—what we told people when they asked.

I swore as the knife I’d been using to dice our dinner bit into my finger. I dropped it on the floor, blood spattering the counter and cupboard doors a furious red. I watched, mesmerised, as the blood welled up and began to seep down my hand; I tried to catalogue the amount of pain I was in. Surprisingly little, I concluded, pushing at the edges of the wound to see how deep it went. Deep enough. I was starting to feel it now, but it didn’t hurt so much. I’d endured far worse. If it came to it, I could do it. There was comfort in that knowledge.

I’ve trained them well over the years, a desolate and disturbing childhood has channeled that need, and it’s like second nature for them all to follow my every command. Azrael, even with his recent rebellion of fawning all over the girl, will jump at any direction he’s given. I will never be helpless again.

No.” The word shattered Felsted’s question like an ugly, stained-glass window. “I chose poison because you deserved it. Because I wanted to watch you wriggle while the fear turns your brain to paste. That fear of death that drove you to the Demons door? I wanted to watch it betray you and eat you from the inside you. This is what comes of people like you, Felsted. I will not abide the folly of your peers’ betrayal. By every drop of blood on my hands, I swear that every single one of you who turned to the Dominion — for power, money, fear, I don’t care — will wither, break, and die. Azrael is coming for you and your friends, Felsted. The angel of death is here.

Death begins before birth. I have always found this an odd notion, but were it not for the death of certain cells during our initial development, humans would be born with webbed toes. Death moulds our physical being from the very start of our existence. It sculpts us, determines how we begin, and where we end. The events in life that define us, that break us and remake us, all stem from death—the death of a place, a time, a relationship, of those we hold most dear, and finally ourselves. Death is the one inescapable aspect of life, the only immutable force, the single thing in this world that cannot and should not be changed. But death is never the end. It is the beginning.

We can’t live in the past, D. Nothing grows there.

Does the ground frequently shake here?” I quietly asked Gabby behind me. She shook her head. “That’s not a quake. That’s my sister.

There are things I have done that make me wish I could claw the memories from my mind. But we grow, we learn, and we do better.

Azrael raised his finger to a face that filled the sky, lit by the faint glow of dying galaxies. There are a billion Deaths, but they are all aspects of the one Death: Azrael, the Great Attractor, the Death of Universes, the beginning and end of time. Most of the universe is made up of dark matter, and only Azrael knows who it is. Eyes so big that a supernova would be a mere suggestion of a gleam on the iris turned slowly and focused on the tiny figure on the immense whorled plains of his fingertips. Beside Azrael the big Clock hung in the center of the entire web of the dimensions, and ticked onward. Stars glittered in Azrael's eyes. The Death of the Discworld stood up. LORD I ASK FOR - Three of the servants of oblivion slid into existence alongside him. One said, Do not listen. He stands accused of meddling. One said, And morticide. One said, And pride. And living with intent to survive. One said, And siding with chaos against good order. Azrael raised an eyebrow. The servants drifted away from Death, expectantly. LORD, WE KNOW THERE IS NO GOOD ORDER EXCEPT THAT WHICH WE CREATE.... Azrael's expression did not change. THERE IS NO HOPE BUT US. THERE IS NO MERCY BUT US. THERE IS NO JUSTICE. THERE IS JUST US. The dark, sad face filled the sky. ALL THINGS THAT ARE ARE OURS. BUT WE MUST CARE. FOR IF WE DO NOT CARE, WE DO NOT EXIST. IF WE DO NOT EXIST, THEN THERE IS NOTHING BUT BLIND OBLIVION. AND EVEN OBLIVION MUST END SOMEDAY. LORD, WILL YOU GRANT ME JUST A LITTLE TIME? FOR THE PROPER BALANCE OF THINGS. TO RETURN WHAT WAS GIVEN. FOR THE SAKE OF PRISONERS AND THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS. Death took a step backwards. It was impossible to read expression in Azrael's features. Death glanced sideways at the servants. LORD, WHAT CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR, IF NOT FOR THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN? He waited. LORD? said Death. In the time it took to answer, several galaxies unfolded, whirled around Azrael like paper streamers, impacted, then were gone. Then Azrael said: Yes.

You could heal him?" I asked, glancing at Hal. "Could," said the wysling, "but won't, until I get what's mine." I pressed my lips together and took a deep breath. "You're heartless and selfish." "I agree," he said, steepling his pale hands together and pointing them at the floor. "Any decent human being would offer to heal him anyway. However, since I'm neither decent nor a human being, I feel pretty all right about it.

It was a fact that had become the focus of my entire life, a whisper in my heartbeat, a permanent, insidious presence that punctuated my every breath. I couldn’t escape it, that persistent voice, lingering in the blood pulsing through my veins. It said only one thing, over and over, a repetition of inescapable anguish, the knowledge of a thing that could never be undone. James is dead. James is dead. James is dead. James is dead.

Looking for something?" I asked, pointing my blade toward the piles of discarded books, scrolls, and papers. Her eyes never left mine, nor did she make a move. Interesting. Her gaze narrowed. "Damn, you are durable. I really thought dropping three stories on you would buy me a little more time.” I swiped my blade upward as she passed me. She took one step, then another, before stopping. I turned and flicked the blood from my blade as her arm fell to the floor with a thud. She hissed and grabbed where it had once been. "That was a hundred dollar jacket, you asshole!" she spat, looking at her ruined clothes, unconcerned with the missing limb. "Excuse me?

Insects crawled across my skin, legs skittering across my flesh, numbed paths of cold left in their wake. They were the creatures that heralded my ghosts, and I knew them well, yet the revulsion they caused in those moments far exceeded anything I’d felt before.

She stood in the snow, effervescent, all pale skin and blonde hair, clad in white and bathed in moonlight. She should have looked angelic, instead she looked like a corpse, freshly raised from the grave, frosted in ice and darkness, swaying precariously in a graveyard.

It seemed for a moment as if something was there, loitering between the knurled and towering cherry trees, a flash of a presence as stark as the sight of the snow against their bare branches and cracked, piceous bark. Unblinking, I watched the edge of the lake, waiting for it to reappear, but whatever it had been was gone, vanished under cover of a willow tree, lofty and dense, rearing over the lake, its branches dripping all the way to the ground. The tree’s lament had been transformed into a thing of such beauty I was tempted to go and hide within it.

Something was wrong. I felt a cold shiver. I didn’t know what at first. Something was just… wrong. I thought of Azrael for some reason, the Imposter, in that cowl, pretending he was Batman. It was that same sick feeling, a crazy kind of panic sparking deep beneath the surface, ready to erupt any second but held in check for the moment by the cold shiver getting colder by the minute. My fingers were so cold… against the warmth of Bruce’s chest… and then the realization came, right underneath those cold fingertips, I knew what was wrong. “When did these heal?” I whispered.

THERE IS NO HOPE BUT US. THERE IS NO MERCY BUT US. THERE IS NO JUSTICE. THERE IS JUST US. The dark, sad face filled the sky. ALL THINGS THAT ARE, ARE OURS. BUT WE MUST CARE. FOR IF WE DO NOT CARE, WE DO NOT EXIST. IF WE DO NOT EXIST, THEN THERE IS NOTHING BUT BLIND OBLIVION. AND EVEN OBLIVION MUST END SOME DAY. LORD, WILL YOU GRANT ME JUST A LITTLE TIME? FOR THE PROPER BALANCE OF THINGS. TO RETURN WHAT WAS GIVEN. FOR THE SAKE OF PRISONERS AND THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS. Death took a step backward. It was impossible to read expression in Azrael’s features. Death glanced sideways at the servants. LORD, WHAT CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR, IF NOT FOR THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN?

I found serenity in the towers, especially the highest, even in the midst of winter. The crows also enjoyed the lofts, and I habitually fed them. Often I held conference with the grotesques lining the summit. The gryphon was perhaps my favourite. I’d regularly sat beside them when feeling pensive, even before James’s death, one leg dangling precariously over the edge

The past had already been dealt with, to one end or another, it was certain, fixed, the horror of it was already over. For the living at least. They grieved, yes, but they were not trapped in the terror of the moment. Not so for my poor, elegant wraiths. They were like the old-fashioned zoetropes you find at the seaside: a tiny slice of a world in a box, brief yet somehow also eternal.

I imagined her poised, a humerus in one hand, a toothbrush in the other, as she gently brushed away the last remnants of the person who had once used that arm to shake hands, open doors, lift a mug of tea. I wondered if it was so very different from how I myself looked when I sat on the floor of my finds room, perhaps sitting cross-legged, at the centre of a circle of newly cleaned bones, a tibia in one hand, a toothbrush in the other …

The reflection was that of a putrefying corpse. By some trick of the light, her face seemed sallow and slipping, the patches of darkness giving the appearance of skin sloughing off in small pockets. I’d almost forgotten the knife in my panic; the woman was far more dangerous than the weapon. Blood drizzled down the blade, obscuring the macabre reflection of Natalya’s face and suddenly I was transfixed by a thought that should have been immediate: Whose blood is that?

Call me Azrael. Também podem chamar-me outros nomes, como Malak-al-maut ou simplesmente Anjo da Morte, tanto me faz, vai bem com flores e para complicado já basta a minha atividade extremamente especializada e técnica, que consiste em retirar a alma do corpo, exercício que faço a todo o instante e em todos os lugares de todos os universos, mas cuja dificuldade, ó imensuráveis mortais, além da carga emocional envolvida, do nervosismo que não consigo evitar e do equilíbrio/absurdamente/ moralmente/esteticamente desequilibrado do universo, a dificuldade, dizia, reside na delicadeza necessária para separar algo que não pode ser separado, separar uma gota da água que a compõe, separar uma folha verde da sua cor, separar uma vela da sua luz, separar. Ó doces efémeros, pergunto-vos, como é que se retira a alma do corpo, sem qualquer contaminação, ela que está aninhada como um gatinho no colo de uma velha? É que separá-los é como separar o dia da noite. Onde é que está a linha divisória entre ambos, a linha precisa?Para que compreendam a natureza deste milagre, porque é disso que se trata, de um milagre, este consiste, atentai, em separar as palavras do seu significado. O que eu levo de mãos dadas para o lugar para onde vão os guarda-chuvas ( como eu chamo à casa de todos nós, à definitiva, desde que ouvi uma senhora a nomeá-la assim) é isso mesmo, significados. O mecanismo é atroz ao mesmo tempo que é admirável: primeiro a diérese, que é o corte dos tecidos que possibilita o acesso à região a ser operada, neste caso específico, a alma; depois, a exérese, que é o retirar da alma; e, por fim, a síntese, que é fechar os tecidos e deixar o corpo tal como o encontramos, sem qualquer trauma evidente, pois o meu trabalho é imaculado.

May all of you who stay behind, wake up and see that life’s a lie, May all of you breathing today, come to join our tribe of peace! To all who seek the breath of life, wake up today and see the truth. To all of you who fear Azrael, why fear the one setting us free? May all of you who think I’m dead, come see my face in the parade.

Long ago, the Old Man gathered together his four favored archangels, Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, and Azrael.

The best part of being me is that everyone underestimates the depths of stupidity I’m willing to plumb in order to win out. Azrael

40.- Arcángel Azrael guía mis palabras para que todo lo que salga de mi boca sea para la gloria de Dios. AMEN

Death will steal in through your pores; it’ll eat into your bones and your chest and your heart, and eat from the same plate as you, and creep into you on the air you breathe. And eventually you’ll get used to its presence; you’ll start to feel more at ease having it around. You’ll befriend it. But because death is a cowardly traitor, it’ll come at you from behind and betray you: Azrael will play his game with you when you’re least expecting him—he always comes when we’re least expecting him!

You are absolutely tormenting

Your burdens become my burdens.

He was the most beautiful and annoying thing I had ever seen.

Liam could destroy me

I promise to not let you turn to stone." I smiled reassuringly

I don’t care what that floating tool says.

How is your throat? I assume I did not hurt you too much?

They either bend, or they break.

In contrast, my kin and I were always subjugated as the villains. History portrayed us as merciless, cruel, vile creatures who sometimes oozed slime.

He selects one of my books, and my face goes from red to nuclear. Azrael’s eyes go wide as he shifts his gaze to me. “You write biker romance?” “Yeah,” I acknowledge hesitantly.

Makes it hard for us mere mortal men to compete with these book guys.

Dianna, you are already dangerous. Now let’s make you lethal.

He stepped a foot closer and leaned toward Dianna. He craned his head forward and whispered, “I heard he doesn’t care how he gets you back. Alive or dead, he has a price on your head. I heard he would drag you back in pieces if he had to.” Dianna did not move or say anything, but I felt the panic ripple through her. I looked at her and saw her struggling to maintain the cool demeanor she always projected. Before I realized what I was doing, I had stepped in front of her again. I grabbed the front of his dingy shirt, lifting him off his feet. “He will try,” I said, my voice a menacing growl even to my own ears.

One more comment, and I swore I would lose my grip on my more homicidal tendencies.

I know that, but what about everyone else, D? If this book supposedly creates normalcy for him and his kind⁠—” “Our kind,” I interjected, raising a brow. “I am just as much of Kaden as you are.” “No. I don’t need blood, and I don’t have to eat people for power.” The words hung between us. Gabby was right. She didn’t need to feed like the rest of us, even if my diet of late was not mortal. Gabby was different; she was the closest thing to a mortal with an immortal life. I had asked Kaden after he changed us why Gabby wasn’t like Tobias, Alistair, or me. He said she was so close to death that the parts that made us ended up weaker in her. She would live longer, but she couldn’t change into anything she wanted and didn’t have the urges we did.

Silence!” I commanded, sweeping my gaze over them. Logan and Vincent sprang to their feet, preparing for a danger that was not there, and I realized I’d spoken louder than I intended. I lifted my hand to run it through my hair and saw that my skin was lit with silver. I stood, my chair creaking as I relieved it of my weight. Aware that my eyes were glowing, I closed them and took a shaky breath, pulling the energy back. When I opened my eyes, my skin had returned to what they would consider normal. Their gazes were alert, filled with wariness as they waited to see what I would do next.

The club was in the heart of Logoes, and a long line of people waited to pass through the massive entrance. The red neon sign above the door cast a crimson glow over everything. This was one of Drake’s favorite places—something he owned that wasn’t his brother’s.

Drake was a gorgeous predator, and the rich brown of his skin gleamed, enticing the unwary to touch him. It was another perk of vampirism. Everything about them was designed to attract their prey.