That was her curse. It wasn’t her lethal presence that had been gifted by Azriel hundreds of years ago when she’d stepped on his lands. Her curse was to feel guilt she didn’t deserve to carry. It wasn’t her fault. She was merely a messenger. A guide. But she was taking—she was taking something that didn’t want to be taken. She’d been cursed to take, just as she’d taken from him, the one who was neither man or God and was standing so closely to her.
