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I winced at the burn, which did nothing to take the edge off my roiling insides.

A Nephilim.

That’s what I was. A monster.

First order of business was finding out all I could about angels. Then about who in the ever-loving fuck Dante truly was.

A purpose. A plan. Kind of.

That would keep me going. For a while, at least.

When I finally dragged my ass downstairs, at the reasonable hour of ten in the morning, I discovered a man sleeping on my parents’ sofa.

The man, who, as a wolf, had torn apart my parents in this very room thirteen years ago. I searched for the fury that had kept me going all these years to give me the strength to slit his throat in his sleep.

I stepped closer to him, scanning his sleeping face, the blackening around his left eye that signified he’d gotten in some kind of fight last night. His blond hair was tousled, brows pinched in a frown even in his sleep. He didn’t have a shirt on, so I marveled at his naked torso. Free of scars or tattoos, only tan, sculpted muscles. My gaze traveled from the dark blond dusting of hair on his chest to his navel, then farther, where a throw was covering the good stuff.

“You’re drooling.”

I jerked at the sound of Colton’s raspy voice. With a groan, he rose to a seated position, rubbing his eyes.

“You’re the one who is trespassing … maybe naked.” I eyed the blanket.

He lifted it to show basketball shorts. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

I shrugged. “Dicks aren’t that impressive to look at, if I’m honest. And I’ve seen yours before.” I winked at him. “I’m guessing this…” I waved in his general vicinity, “is going to be a lot, so I’m gonna need you to make me a coffee first.”

Colton looked up at me with an unfamiliar expression. Confusion, betrayal, and something else I couldn’t pinpoint. Fear? Colton knew what he was now, and presumably, he knew what I was. He might not have known I was a supernatural hunter, but he’d seen me shoot laser beams out of my hands, so he knew I was some kind of monster.

And he was afraid. Of me. That satisfied the darker parts of me. He’d caused me so much terror—while under a curse, sure—so it was nice to return the favor.

“I’m not going to shoot you to smithereens, if that’s what you’re worried about.” I tugged my hair up into a messy bun. My body didn’t hurt. Not even a little bit. I should’ve been in agony. I shouldn’t have been able to walk. But I didn’t feel so much as a twinge. I’d inspected my stomach in the bathroom before I came down. The skin of my abdomen was raised and red but had healed completely. The rest of my injuries were in various states of healing.

I guessed half-human angels were hard to kill. Made sense since I’d always healed fast, something I’d shrugged off in the past. Maybe a part of me knew. Not exactly what I was—I never could’ve imagined that—but suspected something sinister and was in denial. Now there was no shrugging it off.

“You should want to kill me.” Colton looked beyond sad. Tortured. He wrenched his hands through his hair as if he wanted to yank it out from the roots. “After what I’ve done⁠—”

“Uh-uh.” I waggled my finger. “Heavy stuff after coffee. It can wait. It has for thirteen years, give or take.”

Colton looked up at me, his eyes wide, devastated. “You’re not going to kill me?”

“As long as you make me coffee in the next five minutes, no,” I told him honestly.

He regarded me with a mixture of hurt and a new lost puppy-dog look. He pushed himself up, wincing as he did. It looked like werewolf healing didn’t measure up to mine. Good to know. It comforted me, knowing that if I was going to be a monster, at least I was a stronger monster than a wolf. I’d axed a demon prince after all.

Thoughts that desperately needed caffeine to make sense of. I walked into the kitchen, hearing Colton’s heavy steps following me.

Again, I sought out my fury, something familiar to grasp on to. I was plenty mad. Still at his parents for keeping both of us in the dark, no matter if they thought they were protecting us. I was angry at them for not protecting Colton better, for not finding Shay. And I was fucking furious at Dante for knowing what I was, for lying to me, and thinking he was born to protect me.

What in the actual fuck?

And pissed off at myself. I was enraged at myself for being so utterly blind to the truth of the monsters all around me.

But Colton? No, it was impossible to be vengeful toward such a wretched creature. He was dragging himself through the kitchen with a sorrow attached to him that was hard to breathe around.

“You were cursed,” I told him as the coffee machine roared and grunted with the sounds of brewing. “When you did those things,” I continued when he kept his back to me. “You were cursed, Colton.”

His shoulders rose and fell, clenching and unclenching his fist before reaching for a mug.