Her body vibrated hot beneath his hands.Her skin blurred, flesh tone to yellow and back again.
Wraiths moved like shadows, vaguely the shape of gargoyles.The two flowed around the front of the cars flanking the elevator.He searched their shapes and their gaping dark eyes, a nugget of fear forming in his chest.Are either of you Jeremy?
The forms inched closer.Archer flicked a glance to the indicator above the stainless-steel door.Still on the eleventh floor.The stairs were on the other side of the garage.They would have to fight.Transforming made him vulnerable, though he would have to take the chance.
She was staring at him.“You’re…glowing.”
A powerful energy surged through his body, like an electrical charge and just as painful.He bellowed with it, feeling his wings push through his back like two hatchets.The wraiths shot forward.He readied for their talons to tear into him.Except he heard a roar and awhump.The pain and light diminished, clearing his vision.A gorgeous deep yellow Dragon fended off the wraiths, keeping them from attacking as he transformed.Her scales shimmered as she twisted around and swiped a wraith with her tail.It was whiplike, with spikes at the tip that lacerated the black form.It screamed, a sound like nails on a chalkboard, and rolled away.
The other wraith leaped, its long arms ready to grab him.He threw Light at it, burning a hole through its stomach.Light didn’t work on wraiths as it did on other beings.If he punched enough holes into its shadow form, though, he could weaken it.
“Get back-to-back with me,” he said, moving closer to the Dragon.
Lyra backed up until he felt her cool scales brush his arm.They each had a wraith to deal with.She snatched at it, fast and smooth.He reached over his shoulder to his wings, which weren’t feathery in texture but made of a dense, electric energy.Like brushing your fingers along the tentacles of a sea anemone.Wrenching a feather out felt like removing a fingernail, but he only grunted at the sharp pain.The feather solidified into a dhagger, a weapon the ancient angels used.The wraith eyed the dhagger, silver in the fluorescent lights.Archer distracted it with a shot of Light, then lunged at it with the dhagger.
The wraith zigzagged out of reach.Archer kept checking on Lyra.She was a capable fighter, but she wasn’t used to fighting wraiths.
“Keep whacking it with your tail.What is that thing loaded with?”
“It’s got a sting like a yellow jacket times a hundred.”
She whipped it out again, and the wraith jumped it and flew to the base of her tail.It clamped on and bit into her scales.She shook, but it clung like a burr.He was so busy watching her that his adversary inched closer without him knowing.It swiped at him with claws, cutting into his shin.He swung at it with his dhagger, slicing its arm off.The arm disintegrated as the wraith uttered a guttural cry.
Lyra’s scream jerked his head around.The wraith had pulled out one of her scales and was slicing at her throat with it in wild arcs.Archer grabbed its hand, twisting it.With a screech, it kicked at Archer’s arm, pulling free to take a swipe at her throat again.The edge of the scale was sharp enough to slice into her shoulder.Blood spurted out in an arc of spray.Archer latched on to the wraith with one arm.It thrashed and scratched him, but he plunged the dhagger into its chest.
Its whole body lit up, and then it disintegrated like the other wraith’s arm.He turned to find that wraith snatching up the scale.Before Archer could grab it back, the thing cut his side.Pain radiated through his body, but he swiped at the wraith, which met the same death with his dhagger.He did a quick scan of the garage to make sure there weren’t any others.Just the two.Whoever sent them hadn’t counted on Lyra being with him.Two on one was a lot harder.
Lyra.
He turned to find her lying on the concrete floor in human form, naked and curled in a fetal position.Her clothes were in tatters nearby, her purse lying next to them.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open.He scooped her up, snagged her purse, and stepped into the car.Blood gushed out of her shoulder wound, a long, deep slice.Her eyes were hazy with pain.
“Let me get you upstairs.I can heal you.”
She blinked at him, amber flames flickering unsteadily in her blue eyes.Her pain and fear overwhelmed him.He focused on the feel of her skin beneath his hands, then realized that skin was her ass, soft, round…
Hell.
He could see the reflection of that fine ass in the brass walls of the elevator, his hand splayed across it, his other arm around her back.She had to be naked.Because this wasn’t hard enough.He tried to force cool energy through his being to compensate for her heat where their skin touched.
“Hurts…” she uttered in a strained voice.
“I know, I know,” he soothed,because I can feel it.“It’ll be gone soon.”
The elevator opened, and he stepped into the apartment.He set her down on his bed.
“You’re b-beautiful,” she whispered, her eyes glassy.
“Sleep.”He waved a hand over her face, and her eyes drifted closed.
She was shivering, going into shock.He placed his palm over her shoulder, her warm blood slick on his skin.Pain seared his shoulder, hot and intense.He jammed the corner of the blanket between his teeth.She jerked, grimacing as the pain tore away from her.Then she relaxed as the last of it left her and now cut through him.He breathed through it, biting down hard on the blanket.How had she endured it?She was brave, fighting like a warrior.Finally, the pain left him, too, and he sagged with relief.
He had healed before, usually in dire circumstances when either Crescent or Mundane were in such pain or fear that the sight of an angel didn’t seem so terribly unusual.Even one whose wings weren’t pristine white.He then would go off to deal with the pain he’d taken, alone.
He wasn’t alone now.He caressed her shoulder, unmarred now but covered with thickening blood.He went to the kitchen and returned with a bowl of warm water and a towel.She was still asleep.He knew Dragons tried to shed their clothes before they transformed.She hadn’t had time to disrobe.A long time ago, he’d fought a Dragon.Now he’d fought alongside one.
He knelt on the bed beside her and ran the cloth over her skin, washing away the blood.There was no need for modesty because he had no sexual drive.Another side effect of the human–angel union was to suffer pain at feeling desire, others’ and their own.All Caidos had to shut down that part of themselves for self-preservation.So it meant nothing to run the cloth over her breasts, her soft, flat stomach, and hip bones that jutted out slightly.To wash her yellow Dragon tattoo that slept as she did.
