Archangel's Shadows

“Stop reading my mind.” She glared at him.

“You’re the one with the power.” He glared back. “Stop thinking at me.”

“I don’t know how to stop.” Frowning, she thought of how sexy she found his butt, then stared at him.

He threw up his hands. “I have nothing.”

“Good.” She’d have to figure out how to make the block subconscious. “I was imagining sinking my teeth into your butt. You know it’s been on my to-do list for a while.”

His cheeks creased. “I’m available anytime.”

Resting her head on his shoulder, she kicked out her legs like a child. “If we do this, we could get everything or we could get nothing.”

“I already have everything.” He kissed her knuckles again. “If you agree, you would have to sign on to serve Raphael for a hundred years. I have no fears the sire will do anything but treat you as the gift you are—he does not waste his assets.” Absolute certainty in his tone. “There’s also the risk the transition will either erase your ability or make it painfully more vivid.”

Ashwini ran her free hand up his arm, the earthy, masculine scent of him in her every breath. “Nothing’s guaranteed. I have an impressive scar across my chest to prove it.” The world was in a state of flux as the most powerful beings on the planet jostled for power, war a promise rather than a probability. “We’re both fighters, hunters.” Lifting her head, she kissed his jaw, her eyes holding his. “Our life is never going to be rainbows and puppies.”

“I don’t know.” Smiling, he kissed her fully on the mouth. “I had a pup when I was a boy. I miss his slobbery face.”

She touched noses with him. “You want a dog?”

“Yes.”

“Where are we going to keep a dog in our apartment?”

“I have a house in the Enclave.”

Her mouth fell open. “You have a house in the Enclave?” That was the most exclusive piece of real estate in the country. “Vampires your age aren’t that rich.” She poked him in the side. “Did you forget to tell me you were in the vamp mafia?”

“I’m the don.” A solemn face belied by laughing eyes. “I have the house because it was a gift a hundred years ago from an old angel for whom I retrieved a precious object. It’s not grand, but it has a yard and a view over the cliffs.”

Still astonished at the idea that he owned an Enclave house—and not simply a house, but one with a cliff view, she said, “Why don’t you live there?”

He gave her a look.

“Right.” An Enclave home was not the kind of place you lived in alone. “Is it vacant?”

“No, but the angel who leases it from me is leaving for another territory in a month. Will you choose the new paint and furniture with me?”

“Are you sure you trust my judgment? You’ve seen my idea of interior design.”

“Your apartment is my favorite place in the city.”

“Sweet talker.” Realizing she was being soppy and silly, she nonetheless kissed him, one of his arms wrapped right around her waist, her hands on his face, and a smile on both their mouths.

“Ahem.” The interruption was courtesy of Illium. The blue-winged angel hovered in front of them, his hair disheveled and a red lipstick mark on his cheek. “Do you not have a room?”

“Do you?” Janvier responded with a raised eyebrow.

“Many, many rooms.” Flipping backward, the angelic male dropped down like a bullet.

“I think he’s been drinking his own brew.” Ashwini pointed out Illium’s acrobatics below them just as the sky exploded in color, fireworks painting the velvet black.

Janvier’s laugh was deep, delighted. “Sugar, remember—”

“One of your best ideas, cher.”

Secret rules, she thought, her eyes on his profile as he watched the sky rain color, secret play. When he met her eyes, his own reflecting the sky, she said, “Full throttle.”

The smile faded from his lips, raw emotion in his voice as he repeated the vow. “Full throttle.”

Epilogue

Ash spun out with a kick. Stopping it with one hand, Janvier pushed at her foot in a way intended to make her lose her balance. Wise to him, she shifted her weight and, grabbing his other forearm, twisted under and back—or would have if he hadn’t broken the hold to spin around to face her . . . and they were back to where they’d been before she’d chanced the kick.

Facing one another, legs spread and forearms up, grins on their faces.

“Truce?” Janvier asked, blood pumping. “I’m getting kind of hungry.” He also knew that her body had to ache by now.

His Ashblade had rebuilt her strength with teeth-gritted focus after waking from the transformation to vampirism with, as she’d put it, “muscles like noodles.” It was, however, taking time for her to regain her endurance. Not everyone had this severe a physical reaction to the process, but neither one of them was complaining about the side effect. Because she’d also woken with her mind alert and active, her personality unaltered.

“Truce,” she said, lowering her arms to stretch up on her toes before coming down flat on her feet and reaching up to rub the back of her neck.

He just watched her, drank her in. The time she’d spent unconscious during the transition had been the loneliest of his life, the breath-stealing pain of it not yet faded. But it wasn’t the most powerful emotion that held him prisoner. That was naked joy.