"The Del? From Motel 6 to five-star hotel?" Trond remarked. The Del, known for its red-roofed, castle-like appearance and the famous people who had stayed there over the years, was luxurious by anyone's standards.

"It's much closer to the base and convenient for you and Karl to come feed on Dagmar. Plus we would need an extra room for Dag anyhow."

He nodded. "How about you guys? Have you found anything since you arrived?"

"A faint scent, but just in the saloon parking lot that you mentioned. There is no large presence here . . . yet," Mordr replied. "Harek can tell you what he's found on the Internet."

Harek, their computer expert, comparable to the Navy SEAL nicknamed Geek, could do practically anything with computers. He was the one who'd first discovered plans for Jasper's Sin Cruise last year. Currently, to everyone's chagrin, Harek was helping Mike set up some kind of angel blog or website, which could prove interesting. A direct line from earth to God via the electronic superhighway. The twenty-first-century version of prayer.

"It's true, what your SEAL hird here has been told," Harek said. "Jasper is planning a huge international terrorist attack on September 11, and, yes, he is involved in some way with Najid bin Osama. It's not clear yet whether Najid is an actual Lucipire or a Lucie-in-the-making, a LIM, but I can guarantee you one thing. Najid is evil to the bone." Harek gave him additional details, some of which the commander didn't know about yet. Trond would have to be careful how he relayed that information, without disclosing his vangel ties.

"I can't have you guys hanging around the base, being visible. It will be hard enough to explain three frickin' admirals in my family to Nicole." As it was, the room they were in had a wide window over the grinder, and trainees could be seen walking by on the way to one evolution or another.

"We will be like ghosts," Ivak said. "Frankly, we just wanted to shake you up today." He waggled his eyebrows in a taunting manner.

The fool!

"The three of us will be in Afghanistan, behind the scenes, in case we are needed," Mordr said, in a way that brooked no argument, "just in case Jasper sends a large Lucie contingent there. Vikar, Sigurd, and Cnut will be working the other planned terrorist operations . . . the Twin Towers memorial site, and potential bomb sites. There are bound to be Lucies flocking in like flies."

Trond agreed. "We'll keep in touch then. I'll let you know later tonight what I learn in today's meetings. You can keep me up to date, as well. And, please, no more surprises!"

They were getting ready to leave when Ivak popped the question that had been like an elephant in the room, "So, is she the one?"

He knew who "she" was. He'd mentioned to his brothers a woman who was needling him to death here and they'd just met Nicole. Even so, he asked, "The one what?"

"Your life mate."

"Whoa! What leap of logic took you from nag to lover? Besides, vangels do not have life mates."

"Vikar does."

"He is the exception."

All three of his brothers were grinning at him, knowingly. Even Mordr, sometimes called Mordr the Dour.

"She is not my life mate."

And she thinks I'm a homosexual.

"She is a pain-in-the ass busybody who is suspicious of me and constantly nagging me to be more energetic."

And she thinks I'm a homosexual.

"She even wants me to listen to motivational tapes, for the love of a troll!"

And she thinks I'm a homosexual.

"If I were looking for an eternity mate, which I am not, she would be the last person I would pick."

He was blathering but could not seem to stop himself. And in the back of his mind, he still had her recent revelations about herself that he needed to assimilate. Nicole the brassy, strong woman, the victim of an abuser? An odd sensation squeezed at his heart when he thought of her being attacked by any man, let alone a man bonded by marriage to protect her. Not that he'd had any great experience with wedlock, and the Vikings he'd known never showed such softer emotions toward their wives. But these were different times, and he was different, apparently.

Aaarrgh! I have no time for this now.

Resuming his conversation with his brothers, he said, "Vikar might be willing to tie himself to one woman for eternity, but not me. No way!"

His lackwit brothers continued to grin at him.

"Just one question." Harek studied him in a way that made Trond squirm. "Have you near-sexed her yet?"

His silence was their answer, and the three of them were practically busting a gut laughing as they left the room. He heard Ivak remark to Mordr as they walked away, "He's a goner!"

And then she knew . . .

It was dusk and they were sitting on the ground outside the kill house, waiting for the strategists to reconfigure the walls and doors for the fifth exercise of the day using live ammo. This time a nighttime evolution.

Each of the evolutions was videotaped. Normally, they would go back to the command center in the evening and study all of their performances, but since it was so late already, that would have to happen first thing tomorrow morning. There was so much to do in preparation for a mission, even though SEALs and WEALS worked diligently to hone all their skills even when not under red alert.

Nicole was pumped up with adrenaline, practically hopping with excitement for this particular war game at the kill house, which was no game at all, but dead-serious preparation for the live op to come in Afghanistan. Even though Nicole and the women would be working from within the harem, without apparent weapons, they had to be prepared for all situations.

Trond, on the other hand, sat on the ground, back propped against the building, fast asleep.

She stood, staring down at him with exasperation. So much for trying to be friendly! All he did was annoy her by ignoring her efforts.

With a sigh, she took a long drink from her CamelBak, a backpack type hydration bladder of water with a tube leading over the shoulder. A soldier in the field had only to turn his head to the side to take a sip, no hands required. Then she tried again. "How can you fall asleep so quickly, in the middle of all this noise?" she asked.

Silence.

"So, three of your brothers are admirals in the Norwegian Navy, huh? None of them looks much older than thirty-two or thirty-three. That's awfully young for that rank, isn't it?"

Silence.

"And one of them a chaplain in a prison? Wow! I assume that would be a military prison. But an admiral chaplain? I've never heard of such a thing."

Silence, but then a little snore.

"I couldn't see much resemblance between the four of you, except for your height and body frames. Oh, and that odd little extension on the incisors of all of you. Not that it detracts from your smiles. You all have good teeth, but that little tiny protrusion of the incisors must be a family trait. I think it's kind of cute."

Still silence, but she thought she saw his lips twitch. Maybe not.

"Your brother Ivak is really hot. Is he married?"

Silence, but his teeth seemed to grind.

"Do your brothers know that you're gay? Have you declared yourself to your military? I know it's not technically necessary now that 'don't ask, don't tell' is outlawed. So, I guess not. Especially since you're presumably in the closet here."

Silence, with a little hint of a snort.

"What I told you about my ex-husband . . . all that personal stuff . . . please don't repeat it to anyone. It's embarrassing. I don't know why I told you. A weak moment, I guess."

More silence.

The whole packed-dirt area outside the kill house was filled with activity. Soldiers moving about. Some taking quick bites from MREs, like his friend Karl, who was looking decidedly pale. A few engaged in conversation. And, yes, a few of them rested, like Trond, though they didn't appear to be sleeping. Mostly, everyone was all jacked up, like her, waiting for the last evolution of what had been a long, information- and physical activitypacked day.

With Trond dead to the world, Nicole had a chance to study him a bit. His rifle was propped against the wall beside him, the safety on, she was quick to note. His K-Bar was secured in its sheath on his leg. He wore a drab green T-shirt tucked into camouflage pants, and heavy boondockers. Having dark hair meant he also had a dark beard that was emerging already, though he had surely shaved this morning.

His arms were at rest, his hands laced on his lap. The fingers were long and blunt-tipped. Sexy.

Now where did that thought come from?

Well, she knew, of course. It was the memory embedded in her brain of what those fingers could do to a half-clothed woman. Meaning her. Even when he hadn't really been attracted to her.

He had a nice, well-shaped face. A strong nose. Full, slightly parted lips. And beautiful eyelashes.

Suddenly, the suppressed imp in her rebelled and burrowed into her weary brain, causing her to blurt out, "I'm thinking about getting a Brazilian wax. Do men really like bare . . . you know?"

Flared nostrils, but still silence.

She'd never known a man to sleep so soundly. It probably went with his lazy personality.

She went for broke then and leaned forward to whisper, "Wanna have sex?"

His eyes shot open.

Apparently not such a whisper.

And apparently he'd been awake all along.

"Oops!" she said.

"Oops?" Trond stood in one lithe movement. "Still testing my sexual orientation, Nicole?"

She shook her head. "No, it just slipped out."

Trond arched his brows with disbelief and walked away.

A short time later, she got the answer to at least one of her questions. She came across Trond and Karl behind a storage shed. Trond was leaning back against the wall, and Karl was pressed up against him, his lips kissing Trond's neck. At least, that's how it looked to Nicole.

Trond's gaze connected with hers over Karl's shoulder.

This was no game to him.

He really was gay.

Fourteen.

Was this Candid Camera? . . .

Enough was enough! Tonight was the night he and Karl would save a couple of sinners, or their souls be damned!

JAM had almost shot a round of ammunition into a dark, crowded room of his buddies this evening, and only Trond knew it wouldn't have been an accident. It had been late in the day, dusk, at the kill house and JAM had suddenly started shooting, randomly. Live ammo. Fortunately, Trond had sensed what was about to happen and tackled the man to the floor. Afterward, JAM had appeared stunned, unaware of what had just happened. Trond had explained away JAM's action to their superiors by saying JAM must have thought that was part of the exercise, to prevent a covert tango from taking out any of the team.

JAM had just stared at him afterward with a mixture of anger and confusion.

Kendra had broken off her short-lived engagement to Sly, for reasons unspoken. By the fear Trond saw in her eyes when she glanced toward her former fiance, Trond suspected he had assaulted her in some way.

Zeb or some of his Lucie cohorts must have been at these two SEALs again, possibly after Trond had left the Wet and Wild, before their lockdown on the base. The scent of lemons was so strong on the two of them that the sin taint was almost ensured. Usually the process was completed in one encounter, but the Lucie needed ten or more uninterrupted minutes to feed after stasis. One more fanging of JAM and Sly by a Lucie and they would be over-the-cliff evil sinners, ripe for the plucking to Jasper's version of Hell.

Trond and Karl had to complete this part of their mission tonight, or acknowledge failure in this particular battle of good against evil. He had no time to think about Nicole and the expression of shock, and maybe even hurt, on seeing Karl feed on him earlier tonight. It had been a necessity when he'd seen the state Karl had been in. No time to seek out the blood ceorl at the Del. No time for Fake-O, which would have been ineffective at that stage anyhow. It was all for the good that she would now be convinced that he was definitely not of the woman-loving persuasion.

So, why did it feel so wrong?

Why did he feel as if he'd crushed his best friend?

Shaking off these maudlin emotions, he waited outside the showering chamber for JAM. When the SEAL emerged, wearing only low-riding boxers and a towel wrapped around his neck, he stopped short, no doubt recognizing something different about Trond, who was in vangel mode.

"What's that blue cloudy stuff by your shoulders? Looks like wings."

Trond ignored JAM's observation. The wispy wings came out on occasion. He'd never seen them himself, but others had told them that the blurry images appeared when his emotions were high.

Nothing he could do about it. Instead, he insisted, "You must come with me."

"Where?"

"Just follow me."

"Without telling me where? Bullshit!"

"There are things you need to know."

"Is this a joke, Easy? Note, I am not laughing. Tell me what's up or get out of my face."

Trond shook his head. "These things must be said in private."

"What things?" JAM attempted to walk around Trond, but Trond blocked his way by spreading his ethereal wings, which JAM just walked through. "This is so not funny."

Trond sighed. Why couldn't these things go easy? "About your everlasting soul, my friend."

At first, JAM's jaw dropped, then his chest rumbled with laughter. "The only one who needs to be concerned about my soul, my friend, is me and the God I no longer believe exists."

"He exists, all right," Trond told him. "He sent me to save you." With those words, he flashed JAM his fangs and saw the SEAL's eyes fix on his mouth, then dart to the diaphanous blue wings at his back. "Jesus Christ!" JAM exclaimed, backing up from him with fright.