“Since when do archangels make social calls?” Iasked.
Asher’s turquoise feathers fluttered behind his back. “You’re right. This isn’t a social call. I stopped by to tell Jarod how impressed we were by his dwindlingrank.”
“Seventy-two, Feather,” Jarod said, his voice catching on my nickname. “Almostthere.”
“Seventy-two?” I yelped, flouncing onto his lap and linking my arms around his neck. In spite of our audience, I kissedhim.
And he kissed meback.
I used to think seventy-two was a terrible score, but that was when I evaluated scores starting at zero instead of at ahundred.
Asher cleared his throat and rose from the green velvet armchair. “I should—Weshould leave youtwo. . .”
Celeste was frowning, gaze skipping between Asher andJarod.
Asher tipped his head toward the door. “Come on, Celeste. I’ll give you alift.”
When she didn’t move, the rainwater dripping down her body and absorbing into Jarod’s rug, Asher touched her shoulder. Ungluing her boots from the rug, she turned and followed himout.
The second it was just Jarod and me, I clutched his face. “I’m so proud ofyou.”
His smile strengthened but still didn’t reach his eyes. “How was your day, mylove?”
“Amazing. Muriel gave me a cooking lesson. Then I read some more of those old books you have upstairs—can we please buy some newer ones?—every time I flip a page, dust poofs off the paper and makes me sneeze. Plus, they’re a littleboring.”
Jarod chuckled, but the sweet sound was faint, as though Asher’s visit had caused his voice to losepower.
“After that, Celeste called, and we went to try out that éclairbakery Muriel told us about.” I could still taste the rich coffee pastry cream on my tongue, the pliant shell, the glossy icing. “And then, as we ran home”—yes,home. . . the irony that an angel had made a home for herself inside the Court of Demons wasn’t lost on me—“I thought up some new ways to salvage yoursoul.”
He smiled, but it was still too tight for my liking. “What am I going to do once you’re gone?” hemurmured.
My suspicions that something was wrong worsened. “Once I’m gone? Where am Igoing?”
His Adam’s apple jostled, and he cleared his throat. “Upstairs.” He stood so abruptly I would’ve toppled right off his lap if he hadn’t scooped me up. “In my bed.Ourbed.”
“I like the sound of that,” I said, linking my arms around hisneck.
“And I like the sound of you”—he trekked to the door—“when you moan myname.”
My cheeks warmed as his elbow jammed against the handle to flick itopen.
We bypassed Luc posted outside the study. Thankfully, he kept his gaze averted. How I wished there were no guards, no need for them, but unfortunately, Jarod could never live without people protecting him, especially now that his rank was decreasing. To rectify his wrongs, he was probably crucifying some of hisclients.
“You know, Icanwalk,” I said as he lunged up hisstairs.
He pecked my lips. “But I can walk faster. Longerlegs.”
I laughed. “And we’re in ahurry?”
“I might sprain amuscle.”
I moved my mouth to his ear. “It’s not amuscle.”
He grunted. “Then why can I flexit?”
I rolled my eyes when he finally put me down to open his door. I shut it behind us. Before the latch even clicked, his mouth was on mine, his hands in my rain-slicked hair, then on my hips as we walk-stumbled toward the bed, bumping into one of the woodenposts.
“Let me see that muscle you’re so proud of,” I taunted him, pushing my hair off my face as I dropped on the bed, my head leveled with the erection tenting hispants.
