“Don’t touch them.”
She raised her eyebrow.“It’s not like I’d throw myself at him.”
He smiled.“Caidos are so preternaturally beautiful that they’re mesmerizing.It’s called theThrall.Hell, when I see my friend, Iwant to kiss him, and I’m straight.”
She laughed, not sure if he was kidding.The icy shimmer in their eyes gave them away, and yes, they were extraordinarily gorgeous.She’d embarrassingly dropped a croissant a time or two as she pulled it off the tray while meeting the Caido’s eyes.Now she knew why.And she would use that knowledge to ward off the stupid thrall.
“I shall hold myself back on both accounts.Thank you for helping me.”
He gave her a nod of acknowledgment and started organizing the room.She walked out into the warm, humid air.True angels were supposed to help humans.Let’s see how helpful one of their bastard sons is.
Lyra stared at the mirrored, oval-shaped building that shot up into the blindingly bright Miami sky.She’d heard rumors that Caidos wielded a light so powerful it could meld your mind or cut off your leg.There were lots of rumors about them, which made them all the more intriguing.And yeah, scary.
Not as scary as a Dragon though, she thought, shoring up her shoulders.
As far as she knew, they were antisocial and asexual, and there were fewer of them than other types of Crescents, probably because males outnumbered females by a large margin.
The contemporary sign matched the building it identified as The Raphael.A nod to the archangel?Or the artist perhaps?It housed a restaurant, café, wine bar, and several floors of offices.Residences occupied the higher floors.She’d heard that many of these Caido-owned high-rises only allowed their own kind to buy a unit.Seemed a bit racist, but if they really couldn’t stand emotions and drama, it was probably for the best.Massive cobalt glass doors loomed in front of her.As soon as she neared, a man in a suit stepped forward and opened the door.
A blast of cold air hit her in stark contrast to the heat outside.The lobby was cool not only in temperature but in décor as well.Glass murals made of iridescent tiles and a wall of streaming water lent a spa-like feel to the lobby.She approached the large Black man at the desk.Both employees were Caidos.
“Your eyes match my desk,” the security guard said with a smile that was surprisingly genuine.“Can I help you?”
She thought he was giving her eyes much more credit than they deserved, comparing them to the crystalline desk that matched the doors.She glanced at the paper in her hand.“I’m here to see Archer Grant.”She produced her ID, which he checked.
“The elevator will take you to the twenty-first floor, Ms.Slade.”
Mirrored walls in the elevator reflected a nervous woman with blond hair mussed from the breeze.She gave her shoulders a shake to loosen them up, checked her teeth, and ran her fingers through her hair.The door slid open, and she stepped into a quiet foyer with plush gray carpet.There was only one door, which meant the place took up the entire floor.Damn.Must be nice.She’d heard Caidos made judicious investments in the days before Miami’s real estate boom.
She rang the doorbell, hearing pleasant chimes echoing inside.No answer.She tried again, then chastised herself for being too eager.A few seconds later, the door opened.Several things hit her senses at once: bare chest, the scent of soap, and then the six-and-a-half-foot-tall man standing in front of her.His white-blond hair glistened with drops of water that continued to drip down the contours of his chest and ridged stomach, all the way to the towel wrapped tightly around his waist.
She pulled her gaze back to his face and forced herself to take a breath.His light blue eyes glittered like sun hitting the snow, as cool as the powder she’d skied on during a weekend trip to Colorado.
“You must have the wrong condo,” the man said, and started to close the door.
“Are you Archer?”
He paused, his face a mask of suspicion.“Yeah.”
Oh, boy.“Obviously this Grayson guy didn’t talk to you yet, I’m guessing because you were in the shower.I’m Lyra Slade.”She held out her hand, but he only eyed it dispassionately.Okay, then.She let it drop.
“Wait there.”The man stalked to the kitchen counter and snatched up his cell phone.She’d never seen a more perfect male specimen, not a freckle or a mark on him except for the tattoo of dark-silver angel wings spanning his broad back.He eyed the phone’s screen, then touched the keys and listened to the message.
She wanted to point out his utterly rude behavior, and she didn’t give a rat’s ass how beautiful he was or that he was a la-di-da Caido.It was damned hard holding her tongue.Do it for Pop.I’ll only have to see this guy for, what, a few minutes?
“Are you going to come in or stand there all day?”
She blinked at the droll words coming from the kitchen.“Was that an invitation?Seriously?”
His right eye ticked.“Please, enter.Grayson said you were coming here in regard to my brother.”
She stepped in and closed the door behind her.The place was huge and open, with beige carpet so thick it made her wobble in her wedge heels.Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased Biscayne Bay sparkling in the sun and the pier where the cruise ships docked.A huge sectional sofa in creamy, pale leather curved with the flow of a wall.A rock song from what she guessed was the seventies contrasted the softness of the space.
While she’d been looking around, he’d gone into the kitchen and assembled a squat, curved glass bottle with light green liquid and a glass urn filled with ice water on the enormous quartz island.
“Drink?”
She eyed the setup as she approached, smelling what she thought was ouzo.Except that stuff was clear.Plus, there were other scents besides licorice going on.“What is it?”
