Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
“Yup,” answered the angel with wings of dazzling blue and black hair dipped in the same shade, his scent a fresh and tart lime intermingled with an exotic element more luxurious. “The sire didn’t want you to be alone. And I am your favorite.”
She elbowed his tautly muscled gut. “Don’t let that head get so big it explodes.” But she was glad for his presence as they walked. Because Illium, playful and vulnerable in ways that echoed her own wounds, was her favorite of the Seven.
More than anything else, she felt loved by her archangel. Though he couldn’t be with her, he’d made sure she wouldn’t be alone. “Did he tell you what happened?” she asked after chucking her empty coffee cup into a trash can.
“No. Just that you might need a friend.” He squeezed her closer. “I don’t need to know, Ellie. I’m just here to astound you with my wit and genius.”
“I can literally see your head expanding.” Despite her dry words, Elena told him the basics. The rest, she’d talk about only to Raphael. “It’s a shock—coming face-to-face with his mortality.” Her chest ached all over again.
“He’s still young in mortal terms.” Illium turned her down a street that led in the wrong direction for the Tower, and, more than happy to meander, she didn’t protest. “I’d have been shocked, too, were he my friend.”
The streets were busier now and Elena managed faint smiles for the people who walked past and said hello or waved. No one but the odd slack-jawed tourist paid any mind to the fact Elena and Illium were walking together, wing over wing. The people of their city had long ago cottoned on to their friendship and that they were both very much entangled with their chosen lovers.
“How’s Aodhan?” she asked, no longer wanting to talk about Jeffrey. The shock was too new, the memory of his sudden decline too bright. Nausea lurched in her gut at the smallest remembrance of it. “He still shut up in his art studio?”
Illium’s lover, best friend, and fellow member of the Seven had built that studio five years ago, in a part of the Enclave not visible from the water but that received plenty of natural light.
“I threatened to hide his paintbrushes if he didn’t allow me to feed him at least one proper meal a day,” Illium muttered darkly. “Someone should’ve warned me about creative types.”
The two of them emerged onto one of the main avenues, the sky above busy with angelic traffic, their wings lit by the pale glow of the morning sun. Below, mortals and vampires, half in New Yorker black, the other half in corporate suits, strode to their jobs or into the luxury boutiques that lined this stretch.
A lunatic messenger on a fold-up scooter zipped down the street, zigzagging through the traffic as if he was on a damn motorcycle. At least he was wearing a helmet. Even the pigeons seemed to be giving him the side-eye.
“Sparkle is lucky I’m such a ball of sunshine.” Illium’s voice was the embodiment of a scowl. “He growls like a feral wolf half the time at this stage of a project.”
Elena chuckled at that most unexpected description of quiet, contained Aodhan. Because if anyone knew Aodhan, it was Illium. The two were each other’s forever and had been for a long time, even if it’d taken them a while to realize it. “How’s the project going?”
“Breathtaking.” Smug pride. “He’s almost ready to show everyone.”
“I can’t wait.”
They walked on, content to listen to the city wake up and get ready for business. A blue-haired man in a top of glittery gold mesh and skintight black jeans asked Illium for a selfie “since we’re so coordinated, honey,” and Illium obliged with a grin, spreading his wings out in a show behind the two of them. He’d never lost his heart, no matter how potent his power. She couldn’t imagine him as an archangel ruthless, but the signs of his intensifying strength were obvious.
No. She wouldn’t think about that. Not today. Not when her nerves were already close to shattered.
A couple of minutes later, she said, “What’s happening at the Refuge?” It wasn’t only a question meant to distract her from her circling thoughts about Jeffrey. Keeping on top of a situation like this, especially in Raphael’s absence, was part of her duties as consort. “Any updates?”
“The sire asked me to recruit mortals to see if they can spot the Refuge in a satellite image.”
As she listened, the blue-winged angel told her the rest of it—including about the Mantle. Once, she might’ve bristled that Raphael had spoken to one of his Seven rather than to her about such a momentous matter, seeing it as a comment on her capability. And Raphael might’ve done so because he wanted to protect her.