“Glad to know,” he replied. “There is another way, if we can’t take down those wards. Something that will definitely free those trapped there and get rid of the wards.”

“What? Angel Spells Begone?”

“Didn’t know such a thing existed. Wonder if we can order it from Amazon?”

“Ha. Ha. That was my enthusiastic, you-said-something-clever laugh, in case you didn’t know.”

Zayne’s expression was indecipherable, but I sensed his rich amusement. “We can find a way to take down those wards, then find a way to take out the tunnels and that school, if need be.”

I blinked once and then twice. “Are you, a Warden, suggesting we blow up the tunnels and the school?”

“That is exactly what I’m suggesting.”

Blowing things up was probably—okay, definitely—a felony, so it should be a last resort, but it was a damn good idea. One that now seemed incredibly obvious.

The rest of the evening was spent discussing the logistics of doing so, which was a conversation I was glad we weren’t having over the phone—I was pretty sure it would result in Homeland Security and the FBI showing up on the doorstep.

We didn’t see Sulien again, nor any demons, and by the time we returned to the couchless apartment, we’d decided we would probably have to involve Roth. Hellfire wouldn’t take down angel wards, so we were going to have to go the good ole human method of mass destruction.

Explosive materials.

Surprisingly, the Wardens didn’t have any stashed away, so we figured Roth would be our best off-market bet.

I mean, I’d be disappointed if he didn’t have access to any.

That night wasn’t like the night before, but it also wasn’t like any other night, either. Zayne and I, well, we were together. We were a thing, and even though it felt like we’d known each other for years instead of months, everything was still fresh. I didn’t want to assume he’d sleep with me, both in the literal and figurative sense.

So, as I’d brushed my teeth and gotten ready for bed, I’d gone over all the possible nonawkward ways I could broach the topic. I ended up working myself into knots by the time Zayne had done the same.

All for nothing.

Because when he came out of the bathroom, pajama bottoms hanging low on his lean hips and hair damp around his face, he asked, “You want me with you?”

Plopping onto the bed, I nodded as I scooted over. He slid onto the bed with far more grace, leaving the bedside lamp on.