“Long story.Reeeeeeeeallyboring,” Race drawled, winking at her. “Short version: we exist to keep humanity safe.”
Why did she feel there was more to it? Just like Lore, who was ace at being tight-lipped. But the way he stared at Race, you’d think he didn’t want him there, talking to her.
“Race,” Lore said, tone cold as ever, dispelling any further illusions her idiotic mind conjured up about him softening. “Her powers are awakening faster than expected. I need you to keep an eye on things while I’m away.”
“Yeah?” Race stretched and cracked his back. “What do I get out of this?”
A glimmering gold dagger appeared in Lore’s hand, and he pitched it at Race, who caught it midair. “You know me so well.”
The comment was loaded with sarcasm. Lore ignored it.
“I want you to train her, too. I’ll be back shortly.” Without so much as a goodbye, he vanished from the kitchen in a blink.
What the hell? Nia glared at the spot where the insufferable angel had been moments ago.
“What did he mean by training? With knives?” She swallowed, her gaze darting to Race, flipping the gold blade. While Saia had shown her a few moves, she would have to learn from this massive male who wore peril like a second skin.
“Maybe.” His taunting, somewhat amused demeanor dropped. His head cocked like some predator’s, his attention on the rain splattering against the windowpane. “But not today. Today, I will hunt. The weather’s perfect for those mofosto come out and play.” His eerie eyes gleamed peril, and he flipped the gilded dagger again.
Cautiously, she stepped back.
“The abbey is warded. No one can get inside unless you invite them.” That unsettling stare shifted back to her. “Don’t.”
Chapter
Nine
Lore flashedto the mountain plateau above the abbey, where Nia had had her near disaster, raising his hand to touch his mouth. The sensation of her lips remained imprinted on his, stirring within him a disturbing need so unfamiliar that even now, it shook him.
She’d accused him of lacking empathy and feelings, and he frowned at that concept. He didn’t need those to do his job, but her words troubled him.
A deep inhale of frosty air did little to clear his mind. He lowered his hands, needing the spiritual sway of the Celestial Realm to clear the confusion away.
He shifted and reappeared in the realm’s sunny meadow. Before he drew the notice of the cadre who ran the Absolute Council of Angels, or Chamuel, the Supreme Seraph who had tasked him with this job, he let the serenity of the place flow through him…
Once in control, with a thought, he changed his clothes back to the white drawstring pants and tunic he wore here, his wings fluttering free.
His mind slipped to one of the duties awaiting him. He sent out a mind-missive to the angel who had chosen to fall from grace.
Ashwin, meet me in the meadow.
A moment later, the guardian angel appeared, his dark brown wings tucked close to his body. His black hair was tethered in a ponytail, revealing his quiet, bronze features.
“Ditari,” he greeted Lore by his Power title and bowed.
Instead of giving his counsel, Lore asked, “Why?”
The angel stood firm, but his throat bobbed. He knew better than to evade the truth. Lore would know.
“I want a life…”
“You have one here.” Lore sat on a white garden bench.
Ashwin straightened his spine. “I want adifferentlife with…with the mortal I love.”
Indeed. That was the usual for angels who decided to fall, except for those who wanted more power and tarnished their halo with inhabitants from the Dark Realm.
“You would give up everything for a mortal?” he asked, curious now.
