Obsidian paced from one side of the small room he’d commandeered as his office to the other. “So if you didn’t come to her aid, who did?”
“That would be me.” The disembodied voice sounded seconds before Michael appeared.
Stig inhaled sharply, and for a second, Obsidian thought the angel would drop to his knees before the archangel.
“Leave us,” Michael ordered, not giving the guardian angel a second glance.
“Of course, your grace.” In a flash, Stig was gone.
Though he wasn’t fond of Michael’s impromptu arrivals, Obsidian couldn’t find it in him to give him hell for it. In fact, he stood stone-still, hands clasped behind his back as he stared at the male.
“I’m forever in your debt,” he told the archangel.
“You’re in my debt no matter what.” Michael’s cheeky response was relayed with a dismissive flutter of his hand. “I will tell you that was a fluke.”
Fluke, accident, Obsidian didn’t care what Michael called it. The male had saved hisamsouelot’slife and for that, he was forever grateful.
“Do you know who was driving the vehicle?”
“One of those idiot demons.”
“Impietan?”
“That. Yes. It made it around the block before I ensured it went headlong into a concrete divider.” Michael’s dark eyes met Obsidian’s. “I’d say it’s in your best interest to get your female to safety. Not that I’m the best to give relationship advice, but she’s in grave danger as long as she’s out there on her own. That damn GA is useless to her right now.”
“Why are you telling me this?” It wasn’t like Michael to offer assistance without an argument.
“I happen to like you, Obsidian. You’ve been a fair and honest leader. I’ve got a vested interest in your happiness. But like I said, I won’t be able to assist in the future. If my father catches wind of this…”
Yeah, Obsidian didn’t want to know what God would do if he found out Michael was interfering with the humans. It was a point of contention between them. Always had been.
“If you want my advice,” Michael continued, “I’d put some extra protection around her. More eyes.”
“I’ll do that.” And Obsidian knew exactly who would be perfect in the role.
Michael held his stare for a second before vanishing in a rustle of feathers.
With a sigh, Obsidian marched around the desk, brought his laptop to life, and sent a telepathic message to Asmia, requesting her to join him ASAP.
The Fae appeared less than a minute later.
“You asked to see me?”
Obsidian peered up from his computer screen, watching as the female moved gracefully into the room, her luminous purple eyes hesitant.
“I did.” Motioning toward the seat opposite his desk, Obsidian waited for her to sit.
Asmia was one of the youngest Fae to become a member of thefiestreigh, and she’d been the last one to join their clandestine team. He couldn’t recall her exact age off the top of his head, but she was likely rounding the century mark. Like all Fae, as well as angels, she didn’t physically age past twenty-five, so she was as vibrant as she’d ever been with her smooth alabaster skin, the soft lines of her face.
Obsidian still remembered the day she’d joined them, waltzing right into a team that had been growing for the past fifteen hundred years. Smart, beautiful, and full of light, Asmia had taken them all by storm, endearing herself to everyone. Her ability to befriend even the hardest of warriors was a benefit, and it had come in handy a time or two over the years.
Once she took a seat, he relaxed in his chair, smiled, wanting to put her at ease. “I have an assignment for you.”
The female looked as though she’d been called to the principal’s office and feared the reprimand for whatever transgression she’d been caught doing. He found it amusing because he’d never been the sort to inspire terror in those who worked for him.
“Asmia?”
“I’m sorry. I’m just a little”—she seemed to shake it off, added a smile that was most definitely forced—“nervous.”
