“My mother trusts you,” Gabriel said. “How did you manage to accomplish that in such a brief time?”

Sethios took the seat across from him, his stance open and ready for a fight should it become necessary. “Caro’s body trusts me more than her mind.” And certainly not her heart.

Her request to sleep in his bed had struck him hard in the chest. His instinct to do whatever she asked was certainly new.

Sethios only ever looked out for his own best interest, and occasionally a close friend. But when she gazed up at him with pain etched in her eyes, he’d have given up his soul to help her.

He rubbed his pec, conflicted by the response.

As much as he wanted to blame the knowledge of her pregnancy for the reaction, he couldn’t. Because the notion to help her first occurred when he caught her in the kitchen. Panic unlike any he’d ever felt had slammed into his gut at the agony rippling through her expression.

“You care about her,” Gabriel murmured, observing.

Sethios stared back at him. “Is this the part where you advise me to stay away from her? Tell me not to hurt her, or you’ll kill me?” He could sense the power radiating off the Seraphim before him. It would be a fair fight, one Sethios might even lose.

“If you think that’s needed, then you don’t know my mother very well.” There was a hint of pride in Gabriel’s tone, but his expression remained artfully blank. “Caro is more than capable of killing you herself.”

“So she keeps saying,” Sethios mused.

“She’s strategic. You would do well to remember that.”

Amusement flighted through him despite the dire circumstances. Caro could probably harm him, if she ever truly tried. “I have no intention of ever hurting her.”

If anything, he wanted to protect her. He’d warned her away from Osiris before he knew about the benefits of keeping her close. That behavior alone wasn’t normal for Sethios, however, nothing about this situation struck him as ordinary.

“Giving you to Osiris as a distraction is the most practical option. That will grant Caro time to raise and prepare your child for whatever uprising the Fates feel your progeny will create.” Gabriel spoke the words with an underlying hint of finality that didn’t sit well with Sethios.

“So sacrifice myself for my family,” he interpreted. “Except, according to Skye, I will be important to my father’s downfall.” Or that’s what he inferred from Ezekiel. “It seems prudent we learn what she foresaw before jumping to any ‘practical’ solutions.”

Gabriel steepled his fingers, his light green gaze thoughtful. Sethios could see the resemblance to Caro in his light hair and pale skin, but his face was too masculine to be considered angelic. He also possessed a lethal air that Caro lacked, one that grated on Sethios’s nerves.

The warrior line, as Caro referred to it. Except her definition of their gifts reminded him more of strategy than physical combat.