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)
He’d also taught a brokenhearted little boy that his father’s actions had nothing to do with him. He’d rocked Illium in his strong arms while telling him that he was a good boy, a good son, and the best kind of friend to Aodhan. “Any man would be proud to call you his son, Illium. Never ever forget that. I would be proud to call you my son.”
It had taken Illium time to internalize those words, to accept that his father’s abandonment said nothing about him as a person, but Raphael was the one who’d started him on the journey. As Raphael was the one who’d given him his first sword and taught him how to hold it.
He’d been an archangel with countless calls on his attention, but he’d made time for a shattered little boy until that boy saw nothing wrong with dropping by an archangel’s Refuge stronghold to send word to his beloved “Rafa” of his latest accomplishment. It was also a testament to the people Raphael chose to surround himself with that his steward and other Refuge staff had solemnly recorded Illium’s news, promising to send it with the next courier to Raphael’s territory.
Raphael had replied every single time.
Now, the archangel broke the embrace to slap him lightly against the side of his neck in welcome. “Of course you had to choose to fly into a storm.” Laughter and affection in the intense blue of his eyes, his archangelic power a vibration in the air that Illium could almost hear. Water dripped off the black of his lashes, both of them grinning at a homecoming too long in the making.
“Where’s Ellie?” Illium asked, his nerves jumping even in the midst of his happiness.
A gust of wind hit his back just then, Elena coming in to land. “Bluebell!” She jumped into his arms, and he spun her around, neither one of them in the least fear of Raphael’s wrath for Illium’s handling of his consort.
Raphael understood what Elena was to Illium.
When he put her down, she laughed and ran her fingers through his hair. “Look at you. All wet.” A glance at Aodhan out of pale gray eyes with an edge of true silver that hadn’t retreated after the Cascade but instead bled into the gray in a seamless flow. “You too, Sparkle.”
Aodhan scowled at the nickname, but stepped close enough that Elena’s wing brushed his in a gentle hello. The other man was healing, but Illium didn’t yet see a future where Aodhan would be as comfortable with touch as he had been before his capture by the monsters who’d scarred his soul.
The other man had never been as easy with touch as Illium, but with the people he loved and trusted? He’d not only been happy with it, he’d often initiated it. A small hand sliding into Naasir’s as they walked in the Refuge while Aodhan was a child, the forearm clasp of warriors with his training mates as they grinned at each other in friendly challenge, the easy brush of wing against wing with friends as they sprawled on a mountain plateau sharing food and mead, his body languid.
Today, Aodhan didn’t break the link with Elena’s wing as they stood in a small circle in the rain. The water saturated their hair but ran off their wings to crash onto the roof in tiny splashes; with angelic bodies designed for flight at altitude, the cold mattered little to anyone but Elena. She was still too young—but even she seemed disinclined to break up this impromptu gathering in the rain.
His own body flushed with heat, Illium touched the belt buckle Aodhan had made for him, then took a deep breath. “Sire,” he began, only to freeze.
He, a man known for his charm and ability to talk about anything with anyone, couldn’t find the words to tell Raphael that he and Aodhan were more than the best of friends now, that they’d taken the first steps into a partnership far more intimate.
But Raphael interrupted. “Go get dry, both of you. We can talk more later—a few of us would like to gather tonight to welcome you home if you’re feeling up to it?”
Relief flooded Illium’s bones, because he still had no idea how to put the shift in his and Aodhan’s relationship into words. Not even to himself. “I’m always up for a party,” he said with a grin. “It’ll be good to see everyone.”
An indignant meow sounded from behind Raphael. When the archangel shifted, Illium saw a drenched Smoke scowling up at him. The stray kitten he’d adopted had grown into a sleek and healthy cat with fur like dark smoke, and eyes that seemed almost sentient in their directness. Right now, she was most displeased at having had to venture out in this weather to see him.