“I like it.”
“Why are you in your pajamas?” The other hunter was dressed in an old gray T-shirt and a pair of faded fleece pants with dancing sheep on them. “It’s two in the afternoon.”
“I’m on vacation today.”
No sounds except that of ice cream being seriously eaten and the repartee on the screen. It would surprise many people how tranquil being with Ashwini could be. Most had never seen the other woman without the prickly emotional armor that Honor had recognized the instant they met at a Guild bar in Ivory Coast, didn’t understand that she was one of the most accepting people Honor had ever met. Flaws, scars, none of it scared her.
Scooping up more mint and chocolate, Ash said, “You won’t believe what Janvier did this time.”
“Can’t be too bad since you’re not inviting me to his funeral.” Ashwini and the two-hundred-something vampire had a complicated relationship.
Reaching over to the side table, Ashwini picked up and passed a small box to Honor. It proved to hold a stunning square-cut sapphire pendant set in platinum, the setting a little jagged, a fraction off center . . . as if the person who’d commissioned it knew that nothing too smooth, too perfect would’ve suited Ash.
Point to you, Cajun. “Are you going to wear it?”
“It’ll only encourage him.”
“Oh, so it’s okay if I ask him out?” she teased. “He is hella sexy, cher.”
“Funny.” Ash stabbed her spoon at her. “Tell me about Dmitri.”
Of course her best friend had figured it out. “I feel like a moth drawn to the flame.” Contact would hurt, might be fatal, and yet she couldn’t stop herself. Obsession or compulsion, she didn’t know, but she did know that before this was over, she’d either end up in Dmitri’s bed . . . or one of them would bleed darkest red.
16
Dmitri wrapped Elena in tendrils of whiskey and night-blooming roses, rich and seductive, as the Guild Hunter walked into the library of the home she shared with Raphael in the Angel Enclave, the white-gold tips of her wings brushing along the carpet.
Her jawline firmed, pale eyes narrowing. “Weak effort, Dmitri.”
It had been, his attention on another woman. “I was being polite.” Elena was more sensitive to his ability than any other hunter he’d ever met, likely as a result of the horrific massacre that had ended her childhood.
Dmitri would have sheltered and protected the child she’d been, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, have mercy on the adult—because he wasn’t the only vampire who could lure with scent. The other members of the Cadre wouldn’t hesitate to use Elena’s vulnerability to this most insidious of weapons against her. And Elena was Raphael’s heart.
“I heard about H—Sorrow.” A solemn expression, quiet words. “How is she?”
“Uncertain.” The girl’s future remained a fragile thing that could be destroyed with a single, brutal act. “She acted in self-defense today, but she seems unable to harness or channel the violence.”
Elena’s head turned toward the door an instant before Dmitri sensed Raphael’s approaching presence. Spreading out those wings of midnight and dawn behind her, she walked to touch her hand to Raphael’s chest, something silent and powerful passing between the archangel and his consort.
It remained incomprehensible to Dmitri how Elena, an angel with a weak mortal heart, had formed such a bond with Raphael. But he had taken a vow and he would defend that bond to his last breath. “Sire,” he said when the two drew apart, “I would speak to you.” It’s about Isis. He didn’t know how much the archangel had told his consort.
I see. Eyes of an intense, infinite blue met his before shifting to Elena. “Your indulgence.”
Elena glanced between them, gaze perceptive. “I need to call Evelyn,” she said, naming her youngest sister. “I’ll do it from the solar.”
“Wait.” Dmitri and Elena agreed on little, but he’d never questioned her loyalty to those who were hers. “You may want to talk to Beth as well. It appears Harrison has been forced to seek alternative accommodation.” Andreas had mentioned it during their meeting after he spoke to Leon and Reg.
Now Elena’s mouth tightened. “Good on Beth if she’s kicked him out.” A pause. “Thanks.”
Dmitri held his silence until she left. “She doesn’t know.” He didn’t find that the least surprising. Raphael was well into his second millennium of existence. A being that ancient had many memories.
“She will before this night is out. I won’t have her vulnerable.” The archangel walked with him to step out on the sprawling green of the lawn that led to the cliff and the constant rush of a Hudson tinged red-gold by the setting sun. I will not speak that which is yours to tell.
I know. He agreed with Raphael’s decision to brief Elena, because while he couldn’t accept the weakness she represented in the archangel’s defenses, he understood that once a man claimed a woman, it was his task to protect her. Dmitri had failed in that task, failed his Ingrede, and it was a failure for which he would never forgive himself. “Did she truly save your life against Lijuan?” he asked, wrenching his mind from the raw agony of the past and the memory of a woman with eyes of slanted brown who had trusted him to keep her safe.
“Do not sound so disgruntled, Dmitri.”
“I merely find it an impossible truth.” And yet it was a truth, so he would add it to what he knew of Elena. “Isis . . . it seems we left a stone unturned.” He told the archangel the full details of the dead vampire’s dismembered body, the tattoo.
“Bold and stupid both.” Wings of white streaked with gold spread a fraction.
Dmitri took a step back, examined the feathers. “Your wings, the gold is spreading.” His primaries were almost totally metallic, the sunlight playing off the filaments in glittering sparks.
“Yes,” Raphael said, strands of hair lifting off his face in the early evening breeze. “It became apparent the night after I confronted Lijuan. Elena thinks I am evolving in some way. We shall see.”
The last time an archangel had evolved, she had raised the dead. But Raphael had never committed the atrocities that stained Lijuan’s hands, and he was the son of two archangels. His evolution couldn’t be predicted.
“I’ve compiled a list of all those who remained loyal to Isis till the end,” Dmitri said, even as he considered the tactical advantages of obscuring the truth of why Raphael’s wings had altered in color. “Jason is tracking down their whereabouts.” None had been seen entering the country, but that meant nothing.