Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 121854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“Ellie will love it here,” Aodhan murmured, his mind clearly on the same path as Illium’s. “This entire place is like the Legion’s tower.”
“Yes.” Its green heart was part of why Illium had chosen this small city at the center of his new territory as his home base. Built atop an ancient city that had been all twisting lanes, and strange avenues, it had kept that rich depth of character even as it walked into century after century.
Power attracted power, so the city would grow, but he would ensure it never lost itself.
Aside from the Spire, there was a small grouping of high-rises in the distance, but even those buildings had been designed to be nourished by the rain and energized by the sun. That made Illium’s chosen base an anomaly in its hard exterior, but that suited him. No matter how the world advanced, vampires continued to be driven by blood and angels by power.
They needed to respect the Cadre.
A stabbing pain. “I’ll miss making mortal friends,” he said. “I can no longer walk into bars and bakeries and just pull up a chair.” No matter what, however, he vowed in that moment, he would not permit ascension to steal from him the part of his heart that understood and cherished mortals.
Aodhan didn’t tell him that he was wrong, that nothing was stopping him from carrying on as he’d always done. He understood that an archangel occupied a different stratum of existence, that for him to make mortal friends would just put those friends at risk. Instead, he said, “This is only the beginning, Blue. Once you’re settled, your reign solid, that’s when you can start changing all the rules.”
His wing slid over Illium’s.
“Adi?”
“Hmm?”
“You know you’re my consort?”
47
Aodhan didn’t stiffen or send him a shocked look. “I was expecting a grand proposal. Now you’ve gone and shattered all my dreams.” Words so dry, they could’ve ignited a forest fire.
Illium threw back his head and laughed, then spun the other man around to kiss him. Aodhan was smiling, his words laced with amusement when he spoke into Illium’s mind. Of course I know, you idiot. But I’m not sure it’s good politics to announce it.
Scowling, Illium drew back. “Why not?”
“When was the last time you heard of a second who was also a consort?” Aodhan raised an eyebrow. “Consorts are protected in battle even when they’re warriors. A second can never be protected, because his strength is yours.”
He held up a hand before Illium could speak. “And aside from some outliers, archangels don’t consciously attack consorts or target them. You pronounce me your consort and your second at the same time and it’ll screw up the entire system.”
Illium folded his arms across his chest. “It’s not like everyone doesn’t already know we wear each other’s amber.” Aodhan’s bracelet glinted as if in agreement.
“Yes, my darling,” Aodhan said with tenderness, because he knew his lover. Archangel or not, Illium’s heart could be hurt—and Aodhan could hurt it most of all. “But you know the games of the Cadre. They can all accept that I’m yours and you’re mine, while politely ignoring that in favor of my title as second.”
Illium’s lip curled up in a snarl. “I refuse to play this game.”
“You have to.” Aodhan went toe to toe with him because that was his job as both Illium’s consort and his second. “You can’t destabilize the system. Not yet. Not when you’re so new as an archangel. And Blue? I don’t need a title to know who I am to you.” Grabbing one fisted hand, he pressed it to his heart. “I know.”
Illium’s jaw worked. “One hundred years,” he said. “Then, I’m adding you to my sigil. We’re one, Adi, and we’ll always be one. I don’t care if people want to pretend otherwise. I won’t.”
Aodhan exhaled. “One hundred years,” he said, accepting the compromise. Because he knew that obstinate look; Illium wouldn’t back down any further. “And you don’t have an official sigil yet.”
“Yes, I do. You already drew it. So when are you going to show it to me?”
“You drive me crazy.” Glaring, Aodhan cupped Illium’s face, kissing him with love and tenderness and affection. Because while he wouldn’t carry the title of consort, he’d never hide what they were to each other, what they’d been to each other for centuries.
Illium’s anger hadn’t totally retreated when the kiss ended, but the wicked glint was back in his eye. “Did you plan for it to be a surprise?”
Aodhan squeezed his nape. “I swear…” he muttered. “You’re infuriating.”
Releasing Illium’s nape, he reached into his pocket and withdrew the sigil he’d begun to work on in his mind the instant after Illium’s ascension. Since sigils were black for the most part—for only a rare few archangels had the gift of burning their sigil with color—he hadn’t been able to work with Illium’s signature hue.