Seraphs

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My Renaissance Man, for encouragement and for writing the songs.

Kim, for support, for friendship, and for tea breaks.

Tamar, for being there when I’m not strong.

Kipper, for the stones.

Ben, for the martial arts stuff.

Matthew, for keeping my Enclave bearable.

My agent, Lucienne Diver, for believing in me and for loving the world of the Enclave.

Finally and profoundly, my editor, Liz Scheier, for making me think—and write—darker, faster, and leaner. And for putting up with me. This has been the most FUN!

Claws gripped my throat, shutting off my air, and Raziel laughed against my mouth. It was a triumphant rumble, feral and heated, but the amusement had an unfamiliar edge, and fear gripped me. “Yesss,” he whispered, mind to mind, “where are the wheels?” The claws relaxed and I inhaled a scent, cloying and intoxicating, like lilacs and jasmine growing up from an open grave. “Your heart beats with the fragrance of Amethyst and her wheels. Where are they?”

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