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He was home, and he’d found his mate, and brought her back with him.

The thought was utterly strange.

He was no longer Nick Midnight.

He was just Nick here.

He was Nick Tanaka, ex-cop, and here, it wasn’t illegal for him to exist as a free person. Here, his parents were still alive, and his sisters, and his best friends. Here, it wasn’t illegal for him to marry, and it wasn’t illegal for him to have a dog, and maybe even adopt a few children for real.

Here, he fully intended to legally marry Wynter Cara James.

Here, he might be able to live that second life.

But it wouldn’t be exactly the same as the first one had been.

He knew more now.

Now, he had to make sure thatthisworld, his home world, didn’t end up like the world he’d left behind. He couldn’t give up on this place the way he’d given up then, even if he lost his mate a second time. He couldn’t absolve himself of responsibility like that, ever again.

It was a strange thought, but Nick knew it was right.

He couldn’t let it be for nothing.

He had to protect this world, the way he’d failed to protect the one where he lived with Jem. He had to protect it from itself. He had to protect it from the forces that would destroy it, and rip all its beauty away. He couldn’t forget that, no matter what happened, or who he lost, or how fucking alone and devastated he felt.

He wasn’t alone. Not really. Not as long as he was alive.

Jem would always come back for him.

Wynter would come back for him, too.

He only had to wait, and not despair.

He would do better this time, he promised himself.

He would be a better version of himself, and not only for those he loved.

He would do better.

He owed Jem that much, at least.

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I, ANGEL

(Angels in L.A. #1)

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Dags Jourdain never asked to be an angel.

He called it “The Change,” but he couldn’t explain it. After a night of hallucinogens in the California desert, he crashed through the balcony windows of his crap apartment with honest-to-godwingson his back.

No one warned him about the chaotic mess of powers he’d inherit. Or that he’d black out every time he flew, waking up naked in random places. Or that he’d randomly start fires. Or that every time he picked up a weapon, there was a good chance someone died.