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)
Turning, he faced Aodhan. “It still doesn’t make sense to me, the obsessed one murdering Marco, too. I would’ve expected her to take the chance to abduct him—no one would’ve known of it, Marco listed as missing in war.”
A horrific scenario. A victim so cagily trapped that people didn’t even know they were alive. Rescue would never come. Once, that would’ve made Aodhan’s gut churn, his nightmares claw awake.
Today, it just intensified his rage.
* * *
* * *
“Something went wrong,” Illium said when they met up that night on the Tower roof, the area swathed in shadows while New York fell away around them in a glittering carpet.
None of them had had any luck with the gloves, so they focused on what Navarro had told Aodhan. “I think he’s right,” Illium added. “Abduction was likely the point, Tanika’s the only planned death.”
“The perfect crime.” Aodhan flared his wings, only to snap them closed with a hard movement. “Except as I knew you would look, Raphael would look, Naasir and Galen, Dmitri and Jason would look, we both know Giulia would’ve looked. She would’ve dug and dug and dug.”
Illium found a primal joy in Aodhan’s rage. He knew that psychic wounds such as those Aodhan had experienced never truly disappeared, but he also understood that scars could form over them, that the wound could age until it was a faint echo rather than a throbbing pulse.
It was Keir who’d told him that many months after Aodhan’s rescue, when he’d still been in the Medica healing from his physical injuries. “His heart is cut and bleeding. But as his physical injuries will eventually scab over, then heal, so will the wounds to his spirit. Their timeline, however, is far slower—and where immortal skin is rare to scar, even we cannot escape scars to the spirit.”
Keir had run his hands through Illium’s hair as he sat slumped on a large stone, the cold winter wind at his back. “I would not say so for all angels, but Aodhan? Your friend has an inner sun that powers him, a spirit unlike any I have ever seen. Even more, he has his heart’s mirror to reflect that light back to him, further intensifying its strength.”
More gentle strokes, a warmth coming from him that had nothing to do with heat. “He will come back to us, Illium. This I believe with everything I am.”
You were right, Keir, he thought this beautiful New York night, his heart so full, it ached.
Out loud, he said, “Yes. Giulia would’ve searched and searched until she found an explanation for her son’s disappearance.”
“The angel miscalculated in more ways than one.” Aodhan clenched his hands on the roof edge on which they sat. “Does Venom still have that punching bag in the basement?”
“Feeling murderous, are you?” Illium’s blood ran hot. “How about we strip off and spar?”
Aodhan shot him an assessing look. “No, you’re still too thin.”
“The insult!” Shifting, Illium poked him in the chest. “I can take you any day of the week, Sparkle-pants.”
“Sparkle-pants?” Narrowed eyes glinting, Aodhan rose to his feet and strode to the center of the roof. “Now I’m mad.” He put his hands to the bottom of his tunic to pull it off and throw it aside.
Illium’s heart thudded as he followed Aodhan up. “Oh, look how scared I am.” Grinning, he stripped off his own top, then they both got rid of their boots and socks and began to circle each other. “That the best you can do? Cassandra’s grandmother could move faster.”
“The roof is a very hard surface,” Aodhan murmured, the muscles of his shoulders glinting under the faint moonlight that diffused in through the puffy night clouds. “Sure you can handle it, my little blue flower?”
His gut clenched at the roughness in Aodhan’s tone, the way his eyes moved over Illium. “Oh, we’re trash-talking now, are we?”
“I do believe you started it.” Aodhan moved in a blur of speed that had Illium hitting the rooftop hard on his back before he rolled up and away with the bounce of a honed warrior—and retaliated with a kick.
Anyone watching them would’ve thought they were in a fight to the death. And there were people watching by now, their movements having caught the eye of passing angels. What those angels didn’t see in the darkness was the flashing grin on Illium’s face, or the equally amused and infuriated mental muttering from Aodhan.
If you dare use “Sparkle-pants” in public, I will release a painting of you dressed in a romper and ruffled shirt such as the ones some mothers inflict on their angelic toddlers.
I could pull it off.
That got him a growl. Which honestly, was ridiculously hot coming from his contained lover. This is the only time I wish I were an archangel.
A rapid-fire exchange of blows and kicks that turned them into a diamond-blue blur.