1

Do or Die

An angel stood behind me, his arms locked across mine in an iron grip. I pulled and pushed and heaved, but he didn’t budge an inch. Angels were stubborn like that.

“I have you right where I want you,” I told him, yanking on his arms.

“And where is that?” Nero didn’t move. He was like a mountain—a mountain of muscle and infuriating willpower.

I looked up at the high ceiling of the gym, searching for insight that didn’t come. I had no idea how I was going to get out of this situation, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. Fake it until you make it.

“Give me a moment, and you’ll see,” I declared.

I continued to push against his hold. I had the strength of a vampire, but while that gave me the edge I needed against humans, it was wholly useless against angels. They had the strength of vampires too—and then some.

“I’m waiting,” he said, a hint of amusement breaking through the hard shell of his words.

“Almost there,” I puffed out. “And it’s going to be epic.”

“Take your time,” he chuckled.

Apparently, my useless attempts to free myself were enormously funny. I tried to shift my weight to slide my arms out of his grip, but he wasn’t having any of that. No matter what I did, his hold didn’t relax, not even for a second. As I slammed my back into him, I became acutely aware of the hard contours of his chest. My eyes dipped to his arms, thick and tight around me. I was hit with the sudden urge to see the rest of him—to touch and taste the rest of him. I shoved that thought right out of my head. There would be no touching and absolutely no tasting.

I had an unhealthy addiction to Nero’s blood. It was like a drug, a drug I couldn’t get enough of. Even now, I could feel his pulse popping against my skin, tempting me. I blamed the vampire magic the Legion of Angels had given me. I wasn’t a vampire per se, but I did have their abilities and their hunger. If I lived long enough, I’d receive the magic of a whole bunch of other supernaturals too.

“You might want to rethink your strategy, Leda,” Nero said, his breath hot on my neck.

Gods, he was making it hard to concentrate. Not that he was doing anything—well, besides standing there, slowly squeezing the air out of my lungs. His scent flooded me, the scent of angel and sex. I shook my head. Whoa, where had that come from? It must be the delirium setting in as my body screamed for oxygen. I had to get free.

I tried to push back, to slam him against the wall. His feet remained planted to the ground. He was too strong. I kicked back at his shins, but he blocked me with his feet. How could he even move that fast?

“You aren’t making this easy,” I growled, stomping down on his foot. At least I tried to. He moved his foot aside, and my heel thumped against the gym floor.

“That’s the point.”

I threw back my head, slamming it into his face. He still didn’t budge, even though that must have hurt like hell. Well, it had hurt me. Spots danced in front of my eyes, rapid and blinking. Breathing was getting difficult.

The next thing I knew, I was facing Nero, his hands locked on my arms, holding me up. I blinked back blackness, trying to focus. I’d passed out. Again. That was the third time today, and it wasn’t even dawn yet.

Nero stepped back. “Again.”

I groaned. Just the thought of fighting him again made every bone in my body scream in protest.

“That is not an attitude befitting a soldier of the Legion,” he lectured me. “We must be strong, dignified, unerring.”

“It’s hard to be any of those things at five o’clock in the morning.”

“So you wish to stop our training sessions?”

“No.” I shook out my arms and legs. “I can do this.”

Nero had been working with me every morning before everyone else got up for normal training. He was helping me get strong, and I did appreciate it—ok, maybe not so much when I was stuck in the middle of that help, which often felt more like torture.

A busy angel like Nero had better things to do than babysit a first level soldier like me. And yet here he was, waking up early too when he could have just slept in. Instead he was spending this time with me, training me. I didn’t want to disappoint him. And more than that, I couldn’t afford to give up. Getting knocked around the room a few times was nothing compared to what lay before me. I needed to be ready.

He motioned me forward, and I began walking toward him.

“Stop,” he said.

I froze. “What?”

“What have you learned?”

“To follow your orders.” I’d tried to maintain a perfectly serious face, but mischief must have sparkled in my eyes because he sighed.

He stepped around me, locking me in that unbreakable hold again. “Your opponent has you trapped like this. What do you do?” he asked me.

“Stomp on your feet. Kick your shins,” I said immediately. “But you are too fast.”

“What else?”

“Slam my head back into your face.” For all the good it had done me last time. Nero was too stubborn to flinch. If anything, he’d held on even more tightly. “None of that works on you, though. You’re too big. Too strong. Too heavy.”

“Use that against me,” he said, each word vibrating with delicious warmth as it fell on my throat.

My pulse popped hard against my skin, the blood rushing like a burning river, searing my veins, begging him to bite me. I thought back to the last time he’d bitten me. The memory shot a ruthless, primal desire through me, stripping away all propriety and reason. The rational part of my brain was hanging on by a thin strand.