“Stay,” Nik called out. “We haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Yeah, stay awhile, man,” Týr added. “You actually made it to the door this time.”
Race flipped him the middle finger and disappeared in a flash.
Dagan appeared with an armful of angelic swords and daggers. “Race has never joined us in anything in the millennia we’ve lived here. You think he will now?” he asked, obviously having heard them while collecting the weapons. With a wry shake of his head, he vanished.
“You cannot force a creature of the wild into a cage,” Michael murmured.
Týr grunted. “The bastard hates crowds like it’s the plague. I swear he’d likely ditch his mate if he ever found her. Hell, he is the last one standing. Yo, Blaéz, has your precog kicked in yet there?”
“That’s not how my foresight works,” Blaéz retorted. Then he smirked. “But there’s a storm brewing.”
Kira groaned. “Honey, leave the guy alone. We were all dying to meet him, and you scared him off. I mean, he’s adragon. We barely caught a glimpse of him in action.”
“Oh, I saw him in his dragon form,” Darci piped up. “It was just before Blaéz and I got married. He stopped by to speak with Blaéz. No, he’s not interested in a mate or anything.”
Nia remained silent about their interaction with Race, which Lore appreciated. However, he could feel her laughter through their mate bond at his thoughts.
I still want to kill the dragon for seeing you naked beneath me.
More amusement drifted to him, and she patted his forearm.
“Right, then. Later.” The jar back under his arm, Michael departed in a scatter of silvery sparks.
Lore could almost taste his ire. Michael might rank below the seraphs in the hierarchy of the angels, but he was dangerous. Something they, in their sheer arrogance, dismissed.
A low conversation buzzed, and Nia turned to him. “As terrified as I was, today did turn out good enough in the end. And you, having your beautiful wings back.” A smile tipped her tempting mouth as she stroked his chest. “At least something useful came from Jehoel.”
“Thanks to you, but you did well. The three of you, your abilities can be terrifying when combined.”
“Yeah? Maybe it’s why I ended up with a nosebleed—I’m fine,” she added quickly when he frowned. “I think once my mind got caught in the throes of the prophecy’s chant, it consumed me. All I felt was power flowing through me. By the way, what was it we chanted?”
“It’s Enochian, the old language of the angels. Roughly translated, it means:
We are the revered Trinity.
Nothing will stop us, evade us.
We are pyre and rime, protectors of all that is.
What you sowed will unravel. And so, it shall be.”
Nia blinked. “Wow, that sounds kinda scary.”
“It is.”
Her gaze settled on his biceps. She pushed up his t-shirt sleeve and stroked the inked mystical Gaian sword there, her touch stirring him. “My badass angel has his first tattoo.”
He grunted and nuzzled her neck. “Come on, let’s get back to our quarters. I need a shower.”And I need you?—
“What the fuck, Lore?” Týr growled, dragging his attention. “You have the Gaian sword on your biceps—you’re a fuckingGuardian, and you didn’t say?”
“Now you know.”
“Asshole,” he muttered, but there was no heat in his cursing.
“Come to the kitchen, y’all,” Kira called out. “I mean, once you finish pounding your chests and playing He-Man. Lore, awesome news that you’re a Guardian, too.” She hurried off, and some of the females followed her.
