Mouth dropping open, Elena blinked and realized Sara was right. Her life was no less dangerous now than it had been during her time as a hunter. In fact, it could be argued she swam in far deadlier waters as Raphael’s consort. “Well, damn.”
“Exactly. So don’t let me see that look in your eyes again.” Sara clicked her mug to Elena’s. “You know what I’ve learned from my baby girl? To enjoy the now. It’ll be gone soon enough, and no one knows what the next hour, much less tomorrow, will bring.”
Elena decided she should engrave those words on her brain, saying as much to Raphael two hours later as they lay skin to skin in their Enclave bedroom. He’d come to her with a grim look in his eyes and battle plans on his mind, his touch so tender, tears had wet her cheeks. “That was a pretty wonderful now,” she whispered afterward.
“Yes.” A deep masculine murmur.
Her head on his chest, she soaked in his warmth, knowing they were lucky to have these hours together, possible only because of his trust in his Seven. Word had come from Jason that the other members of the Cadre were currently confirmed as being in their territories, which gave New York some breathing room.
“I visited the injured,” she said, knowing the respite was a temporary one—like Raphael, she didn’t believe in coincidences, especially a coincidence that brought death to angels and vampires alike. “I managed to speak to everyone who was conscious.”
“I know.” His hand fisted in her hair. “You acted as a consort should, despite the cost. I’m proud of you, hbeebti.”
Chest tight at the simple acknowledgment, she ran her foot over his shin. “I also seem to have acquired the start of a Guard.”
“Oh? Who have you chosen?”
“Izzy,” she said, and told him how it had happened.
Raphael laughed. “I will, of course, have to throw the boy into training with the toughest men in my employ as soon as he has recovered. He may regret volunteering.”
“I don’t actually expect him to do for me what the Seven do for you.”
“Would you dent his pride?”
Elena sighed, having the sinking feeling she’d inadvertently ended up with a real Guard. “How was I supposed to say no to someone that adorable?” She lifted her head to scowl at her lover. “It’d have been like kicking a puppy then stomping on his heart.”
Raphael folded one arm behind his head, his biceps flexing. “He’s not as much a babe as you believe.”
“No?” Leaning in, she grazed her teeth over the firm muscle.
His fingers curved over her bare breast in return, neither one of them in any hurry. “Izak’s been in training with Galen since he was younger than Sam.”
Galen with babies? “Impossible,” she said, even as she recalled Hannah pointing out the opposite in the painting downstairs. “Galen eating babies I can understand, but training them?”
Open amusement. “I think you miss our weapons-master.”
“Ha-ha.”
That got her a long, lazy kiss, their tongues licking against each other, his thigh pushing possessively between her own. “When Galen was first courting Jessamy,” Raphael said with a brush of his thumb over her nipple when their lips parted, “he began to teach flight skills to the little ones. Over time, it has become a tradition—Galen is always the one who gives basic flight instruction to the babes, and some, like Izak, never stop training with him.”
The idea of Galen, with his wings akin to a northern harrier’s, leading a squadron of babies—not all of whom could fly exactly straight—had Elena shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I need to see to believe this. It’s like you just told me the sky turns purple every Wednesday.”
Sensual laughter twining around her, Raphael’s mood no longer black. “For his age, Izak is exceptional. In comparison to older fighters, he has much to learn, part of the reason Galen organized a Tower placement.”
“So he could study under more experienced men.” It was similar to what the Guild did, pairing up a neophyte hunter with an experienced one for the first year after graduation.
Raphael nodded. “Izak may be comparatively weak at present, but he’ll grow with you and so will the bond between you.” His eyes closed when she reached out to stroke the most sensitive part of his right wing, her damp flesh rubbing against the hard muscle of his thigh. “Aodhan was a stripling, Illium even younger, when I accepted them into what became my Seven.”
She was leaning in to kiss him again when his eyes snapped open, languid relaxation erased by cold-eyed focus in a single heartbeat. “Keir is on his way to see us.”
Elena thought of the decomposing vampire found in that house now burned to the ground, the wounded angels in the infirmary, the five carried to the Refuge on flower-covered biers, and knew the news could be nothing good.
12
Looking out toward the glittering mirage of Manhattan from their balcony a couple of minutes later, she saw the dark shadow of wings over the Hudson. “Is Illium providing escort?” Even with the wild blue and shimmering silver lost to the night, the angel had a distinctive style of flight.
“I’ve ordered that no one fly alone at night—or should they be heading into an isolated area.” A hard glance. “That applies to my consort, too. You left the Tower tonight before I could speak to you about it.”
“No arguments here.” Tugging at the belt of her robe, she said, “I should put on proper clothes.”
“This’ll do.” Raphael, dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, ran his knuckles down the side of her face. “Keir is one of the few men whom I will allow to see my consort naked of her armor.”
Because, Elena thought, the healer had seen every part of her broken body—and he’d helped bring her back.
“As for your Bluebell, his heart is already yours.”
Her fingers clenched on the belt. “Raphael, he’s not truly . . . not that way, is he?” She couldn’t bear to hurt Illium.
“I think,” Raphael said, as the night wind brought with it the whispering promise of snow, “Illium needs to heal and you are safe.”
Elena rubbed her face. “I hope that’s all it is.” Regardless, she did change into jeans and a simple green-and-white-checked shirt, Raphael doing up the buttons on the wing slits for her before they walked down to open the library doors and step out onto the lawn.
The two angels made a quiet landing a minute later.
Keir’s face was solemn, his face showing a strain Elena had never before seen on him, certainly not when she’d left the infirmary earlier that night. Gut twisting, she took his arm and led him inside to find the fire lit and the table by the windows set with coffee and tea, as well as a tray of fruit, nuts, and a rich, creamy cheese. Crackers lay neatly on a different platter, alongside a thin flatbread flavored with herbs.
Thank God for Montgomery.
Nudging Keir into an armchair in front of the crackling flames, she poured the healer the tea she knew he liked, as Illium fixed him a plate. “You have to eat,” she said, when he would’ve waved off the food.
Expression drained, eyes devoid of their natural warmth, he didn’t respond.
Elena wasn’t ready to admit defeat. Taking the plate from Illium after setting the tea on the little side table beside the healer, she nodded at the blue-winged angel to go speak to Raphael, while she took a seat in the armchair opposite Keir. Putting a piece of cheese on a cracker, she held it out. “Please, Keir.”
Gaze flicking to her, he took the morsel. “So, the patient looks after the healer.”
“The patient knows that if she gets herself damaged again, she’s going to need you, so it’s self-serving.”
A glimmer of light in his expression. “And if I don’t eat?”
“This healer once told me I had the unbreakable will of a mule.” It had been a compliment, Keir’s delight at her progress unhidden.
His beautiful lips curved slightly at last and he ate the cracker, took the next one. She managed to get that and some flatbread into him, as well as a peach she sliced into pieces. “You did this for me once, remember? When I was bored and grumpy after you told me I had to stay in bed.” It had been in the aftermath of Lijuan’s ball. “Stupid balls. They should be banned.”
Soft laughter, the peach eaten quarter by quarter while Illium and Raphael stood at Raphael’s desk, talking quietly about the ongoing holes in their defensive line. The firelight glinted off the white-gold of Raphael’s feathers, and since he was right next to Illium, the filaments of silver in Bluebell’s wings also catching the light, the difference in effect was crystalline.
“White fire.” Keir’s intrigued expression told her he was back. “Extraordinary.”
It was, Elena thought in wonder, a resonance to the shifting fire that gave Raphael’s wings a sense of movement though he stood in place.
Settling back in his chair, Keir said, “I haven’t seen such an effect in the others who are Cadre.”
Elena forced herself to look away from Raphael, her antennae on alert. “Do you know anything of what’s happening with Michaela’s abilities?”
Keir shook his head. “She doesn’t trust me, though she knows I would never break my vows as healer. It is also true that I have always favored Raphael.” Putting down his tea, he looked at her with his old, wise eyes. “As I favor the consort who has brought him back from the cruel edge of immortality.”
Elena set aside the plate on which she’d cut the peach, and leaned forward after a quick glance to ensure Raphael remained absorbed in his conversation with Illium. “Lijuan warned Raphael I’d make him a little bit mortal.”
“You have.” Quiet equanimity. “And you worry you’ve weakened him. You have.”
Elena flinched.
“Elena.” Shaking his head, Keir waited until she met his gaze again. “Even an archangel needs a weakness—absolute power is a corruption. Of that, Lijuan is the perfect example.”