Eleven
A flickerof ice brushed Nia’s psyche as a man dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and a black jacket strolled toward them, the light breeze fluttering his shoulder-length tawny hair.
Trepidation squeezed her gut as she jerked upright. This stranger wasn’t human.
“Loráed, it’s been a while,” he said, his voice holding the same infinite tone as Lore’s.
Another angel.
“What are you doing here?” Lore’s voice remained impassive, and her unease spiked.
The angel’s low laughter drifted to her. Nia wasn’t sure if they were friends. No, probably not. Why else would Lore shield her?
“I finished a job, and I sensed you on this plane, so I stopped by.”
“I see.” Lore was back to his typical aloof self.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your latest task?” he asked.
His words held a hint of teasing, but Nia resented being called ataskas if she were an object, not a person with feelings. Scowling, she shifted, and her booted feet slid on the slippery stones?—
Darn it! Before she face-planted, she gripped Lore’s shirt, and his silky feathers brushed her cheek. But at his continued silence, her stomach roiled.
Were the two of them having a face-off?
She waited. But his glorious wings, emerging from his shoulder blades, having torn through his shirt, snagged her attention. Brilliant colors, ranging from the deepest red at the top to hints of burnt orange and sienna, merged into each other at the lower flight feathers.
Unable to resist, she gently stroked the arches.
His entire body went ramrod stiff.
Nia blinked at the faint, shimmery hint of red and gold dust on her fingertips?—
Lore reached behind him, grasped her wrist, and brought her to his side.
Wow! Was that all it took to have an intro? Touch his wings?
“Names aren’t required,” Lore said. “Now you’ve seen her, we will take our leave.”
Lore flashed them, reforming at the abbey’s courtyard. He let her go and gripped the balustrade to stare down into the wafting mist. His wings fluttered and retracted, leaving behind the gaping rips in his shirt.
Nia swept back her hair and frowned. Something about this visitor had him retreating behind the aloof demeanor he wore so well, and she didn’t like it at all after witnessing his softer side. Which meant to get even a semblance of a response from him, she had to do what she did best.
She sniffed and lifted her chin, adding a clip to her voice. “That was rude, just leaving like that.”
Rude? Nia had no idea.
If Hanaél had seen what occurred between them, Lore would have been labeled as compromised and replaced. Her demise would be a certainty.
His gut twisted at the thought, the emotion behind it so unfamiliar that his breath caught. But her taste remained with him, of summer, of warmth, of things he never knew and now wanted?—
No!His jaw clamped down hard, shutting out those thoughts.
This was his fault. He’d allowed himself to become ensnared in her teasing—an emotion she used to cover up her wariness, her fears—and he’d momentarily lost his mind. Something he’d never done in his eternal life. He’d forgotten everything and nearly put her life in danger.
The bulge in his crotch was another unfamiliar happening.
He inhaled sharply, letting the cold air and the calmness of nature seep through him before answering. “He’ll get over it.”
