The minutes bled by. One by one, the petitioners were called into the back. Most of them returned looking distraught. Their petitions had obviously been rejected. One person came back looking happy, the lucky guy of the day.

Finally, when there was no one else left in the seating area, a man in a business suit waved me forward. I followed him into the back, and we walked in silence past closed doors until we reached an open room at the end. He waited for me to take a seat in front of the unoccupied desk, then without a word, he turned and left, closing the door behind him.

Trying not to feel like I’d been called into the principal’s office for bad behavior, I tapped my heels against the chair and waited. Again. My stomach growled in protest. Those pancakes felt like eons ago.

After a few minutes, I swiped a pen from a glass jar full of them. I didn’t see any paper to doodle on, so I began tapping against my chair instead. Something told me the Legion frowned upon desk graffiti.

Two-hundred-and-sixteen taps later, the door opened.

“Finally,” I said, sighing. “I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

“We do not forget anything,” a man’s voice said, crisp and proper, each word pulsing with raw power.

I turned and looked up into the face of an angel. Literally.

I didn’t know how I knew what he was. After all, he didn’t have his wings out. But I just knew. Magic slid off of him like a cloak, igniting the air between us. My skin buzzed, goosebumps prickling up. Whatever vibes he was putting out, my body was two hundred percent tuned in. I just couldn’t decide if I was intrigued or scared shitless of him.

He certainly was handsome. No, not just handsome—astonishingly beautiful. And frightening. Just like all of the angels. His hair shone like caramel. It fell partially over his eyes, just long enough to be charming without turning disorderly. He wore the standard Legion uniform: a leather bodysuit. As black as ink, it looked like it had been melted onto his body. Every dip, every curve of muscle was visible beneath it. I couldn’t help but cast a long appreciative look down the length of him, and for one moment I almost forgot how dangerous angels were.

But then reality set in. Some men worked out so they’d look good. This man worked out so he could kill people. He looked strong enough to snap me in half over the desk if he decided to—and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. He had a body no mortal could possess—and a soul so hard that it burned cold and unyielding from behind his emerald eyes. As his gaze met mine, I froze, mesmerized.

“Why do you want to join the Legion?” He sat down opposite me, sliding the pen from my frozen fingers.

I felt like I was in a daze. That’s what people said about angels. That they put you into a trance. I snapped myself out of it.

“I wrote it all there,” I told him, nodding toward the clipboard in his hands. My application was snapped to it.

His perfect brows drew together like he was surprised. Maybe people didn’t ever talk back to him.

“You wrote that you want to keep the world safe from rogue supernaturals,” he said.

I folded my hands together and smiled at him. “That’s not a good reason?”

“It is a reason,” he replied. “In fact, it’s the reason roughly seventy percent of applicants write on their form.”

I kept on smiling, even as my teeth began to hurt. “That’s me. Conformist, obedient, toeing the straight and narrow line.”

He looked like I’d just spit acid in his gods-ordained eyes. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

I struggled to hold onto the smile. “No.”

“You work for a bounty hunting company called Pandora’s Box.” His eyebrow twitched up at the name, almost like he was amused. Or maybe he was just allergic to me.

“My Mom and sisters and I run it. Estrogen-fueled, you know.”

His eyebrow twitch didn’t repeat. Apparently, I wasn’t all that funny after all.

“Your foster mother, Callista Pierce. And foster sisters, Bellatrix, Tessa, and Ginnifer Pierce.”

“You looked me up. Aw, I’m flattered. And I don’t even know your name.”

“Your foster brother Zane Pierce is also a member of the business,” he continued on.

I struggled to remain calm. Talking about Zane would just make trouble. I tried to sidestep the issue with a smile and a joke. “We call Zane the Wild Card, the only man in the group.”

The angel’s face was carved from granite, a statue of bone-crunching might. Like the statues of angels in the town halls and city centers.

“Why do you want to join the Legion?” he repeated his question.

“I already told you.”

“There’s more to it,” he said. “I can feel it.”

“Well, your angel senses must be backfiring because that’s all there is. You’ve seen my record. I help people, even when I’d make more money if I didn’t. I can’t help myself.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Your record does seem to confirm that.”

“See?” I said, continuing to smile. Man, I really needed to work out those facial muscles. My endurance was crap. “As I said, I’m a loyal—”

“You have never expressed interest in joining the Legion before,” he cut in. “How old are you?”

My smile wobbled. “My birthday is listed right there.”

“I know. I want to hear you say it.”

“Twenty-two.”