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My legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he groaned, dropping his forehead to mine. Sweat-slick skin, ragged breath, eyes burning into me like I was the only thing keeping him tethered to earth.

“I love you,” he breathed against my lips. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

I kissed him instead of answering. My legs locked around him, heels digging into the small of his back, pulling him impossibly closer as he rocked us together in a raging heat of delicious friction. The drag of him inside me, the press of his body, the weight of every unspoken thing finally given voice.

“Say it again,” he rasped, pace faltering, breath hitching.

I looked up at him and saw the man I loved, dripping sweat and frantic as he pumped into me. Saw the beast lurking beneath his skin, gold eyes and shadows, claws still dimpling the rug beside my head. He needed me to see both. Needed me to look at every part of him and still mean it.

“I love you.” I poured everything into those three words, every fear, every hope, every moment of the past weeks. “I love you, Angel Mao.”

His whole body seized as he came, the broken sound he made against my mouth, the heat of him spilling inside me. And watching him come undone pushed me over the edge too.

I clenched around him, gasped his name, and let go.

For one long, perfect moment, there was nothing but us, tangled together on a ruined rug in a steam-filled bathroom, hearts pounding, breath mingling, souls finally quiet after weeks of screaming.

Angel collapsed against me, boneless and heavy, face buried in my neck. His hands human again, traced lazy patterns on my ribs. He rested inside me, only softening a little and I could have slept right there, safe and anchored in his arms.

Beyond the door more trouble awaited us. But here, in this moment, there was only us. And it was exactly what we both needed.

30

ANGEL

Of course I remembered what had been pricking the back of my brain after I got in the shower. Wade’s text helped, as he reported he’d dropped Jude and Ivan’s grandfather off to keep anyone else from breaking the news.

Melody Holt. Jude and Ivan’s mom. Dead.

I’d been carrying it since the warehouse.

She was dead.

And I hadn’t told them.

Initial toxicology reports were indicating possible suicide. Though with the massacre we’d been processing, nothing had been ruled out. The only thing we knew for certain was that her remains had been identifiable, unlike at least a dozen others.

I finished the breakfast Jude had brought me, cold by now, but I needed the calories, and wandered to the main part of the apartment in search of more food. It surprised me to find Nikki in the kitchen with Jude’s grandfather and Ivan. The trio were talking over trays of food about Nikki getting a job at Gwen’s bakery. Which explained the influx of sweets sitting on the counter.

In the living room, the television played some kids’ show, and Jude did a little wobbling dance to it. I thought for half a second he was entertaining Peanut Butter and Nox, who sprawled on the couch staring at him. But there were dark spots floating around him.

Motes.

Was he entertaining the motes?

The more I stared at the motes, the less visible they were.

“You want a sandwich?” Ivan called across the space, spotting me finally emerge from the bedroom.

“A sandwich sounds great,” I said, my voice rough.

Ivan nodded and turned back to the counter, already pulling out bread and meat. Nikki smiled at me, warm and easy, like she’d been part of the morning routine for years. Jude’s grandpa gave me a nod from his seat at the table, a cup of tea cradled in his weathered hands. They were all safe, and that was important, but the weight of what I knew made the idea of more food, unappealing.

Jude danced, the motes floated, and I made a beeline for him.

“It makes them lighter, I think,” Jude answered my unasked question. “They seem to like it.”

I wrapped an arm around Jude’s waist, pulling him against me, breathing a sigh of relief that I could still hold him. His cheeks pinked with heat, though he didn’t push me away. I’d have rather ravished him again than have to say what I did. Though we had yet to have a discussion about my partial change in the bathroom.