Opening it, she slid in a straw she’d concealed down the side of a knife sheath and held the drink to his lips. “Sip,” she ordered before he could take a long draw. “It’s Illium’s secret recipe and it’s lethal.”
Eyes brightening, he took a drink and went, “Whoa.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. Lots of angels drinking and flying today—I hope none of them fall into the Hudson.”
Izak laughed. “Alcohol wears off very fast in angelic bodies. I don’t think it has any effect on angels as old as Aodhan and Illium.”
“No wonder he makes it so strong.” She cut Izak off when he became a touch too smiley. “Let’s wait for it to wear off on you before you have the rest.” Baby that he was, half a bottle was clearly plenty for Izzy.
“Janvier told me Titus is here.”
Elena leaned in close. “You didn’t hear it from me,” she whispered, “but last I saw, Titus was carousing in the street, kissing a different willing woman every five minutes.” More than one human was going to wake up the next day with a surreal memory she’d probably put down to too many shots. “And—Hmm, I’m not sure I should be saying this to such tender ears . . .”
“What?” His eyes went huge. “I want to know.”
Far too adorable. It was ridiculous. “Well,” she said in a conspiratorial tone, “I’m pretty sure there are shenanigans going on high in the sky tonight.” Anyone who had a telescope pointed up toward the stars might just get an eyeful.
“People are dancing?” A small pout. “I want to be outside.”
Shoulders shaking, because he was clearly still feeling the effects of Illium’s concoction, she patted his face. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to seduce and be seduced, Izzy.”
“Can I have more cake?”
She fed the remaining half to him. His eyes were starting to flutter shut by the end, and when she rose to her feet, he was in a peaceful sleep. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she glanced at the doorway to see Keir exchanging an intimate look with a heavily muscled male warrior. The warrior angel’s hand was curved around the side of Keir’s neck, his head bent toward Keir’s shorter and more slender form. Whatever he said made the healer laugh before he slipped out of the warrior’s hold and into the infirmary.
Seeing Elena, he came over. “You look puzzled, Ellie.”
“I am. Last time I saw you with anyone”—back in the Refuge—“it was a woman.” And he, without a doubt, had stubble burn on the dusky skin of his throat right now. Which meant he’d been getting frisky only seconds before she saw him; Keir was too old for the mark not to have faded otherwise.
Smile gentle, he said, “I have been alive thousands of years, have learned that love does not always wear a single face.” A warmth in his eyes. “Ah, but it will for you, will it not?”
“Yes.” Raphael was her heart, would always be her heart. “So, you’re a player?” She sighed. “All this time, I thought you were a nice guy. I introduced you to my single friends, like that sweet squadron leader.”
His laugh soft, he allowed his wing to brush hers. “If I could find what you have with Raphael, I would stop playing. Until then, I will share pleasure with smaller loves—perhaps even your rather lovely squadron leader.” Reaching down to tug a blanket over Izzy, he said, “The boy is doing well. I think he is even more in love with you, however.”
“A little cake and punch and everybody loves me.” Leaving him with a kiss on his cheek, she went to talk to an angel who was down with severed legs, but was able to sit up on her own. She had a drink in her hand and a plate of goodies on the table next to her. “This celebration was a wonderful idea, Ellie.”
Before the battle, none of the squadron but Izak had called her Ellie. It was a welcome change. “How are the legs?” she said, able to ask as she could a fellow hunter.
“It hurts, but the injuries are healing faster than anticipated.” The woman’s dark eyes went to where Raphael was speaking with two other wounded fighters, one an angel, the other a vampire. “The sire is responsible for that.”
Elena didn’t nod, didn’t need to. Raphael’s ability to heal remained nascent, but it was shaving days, sometimes weeks off the recovery time of the injured. According to Keir, what Raphael was doing wasn’t healing as he knew it. Keir’s current theory was that Raphael was sharing power.
Lijuan, Elena thought, shared death. Raphael shared life.
His eyes met hers across the width of the room at that instant, and she saw pride burning in his gaze, the same pride that filled her veins. For their people, who had survived the unimaginable with their spirits intact; for their city, that had stood strong against an unprovoked attack. There was no need for either of them to articulate that. They saw and understood each other in a way few people ever did, mortal or immortal.
For her, love would only ever have a single face, and it was his.
44
Janvier tracked Keir down three hours into the party. Catching the healer’s eye, he ducked out into a small room off the corridor.
This, what he had to ask, it was a private thing, an important thing.
“Janvier.” Keir’s wings made a whisper of sound in the doorway. “I am glad to see you are not dead yet.”
Janvier tried to smile at the old joke, but the urgency of what he had to ask tore at him too desperately to allow for levity.
Keir’s expression altered, wise eyes in an ageless face turning solemn. “What is it?”
“You can’t speak about it to anyone else.”
“I will not.” It was the oath of a healer. “Not even should the Cadre ask.”
Hope a white-hot flame inside him, he said, “It’s about Ash.”
• • •
Ashwini felt a prickle on the back of her neck that told her Janvier was near, even before Honor said, “Here comes your Cajun.” A shoulder nudge from her best friend, the two of them having spent the past half hour talking. “I’m off to debauch my deliciously sexy husband—you should do the same with Janvier.”
Janvier slid down beside her as Honor left; his thigh pressed against hers, strong and warm, the city spread out below them.
“I thought you went to catch up with your friends from out of town.” He’d brought her a cocktail earlier, danced with her on the roof, then slipped away while she chatted with Honor. Naasir had prowled off before that, in full mate-hunting mode.