by Sarah Gilman
Kestrel eased back, but his hands remained on her arms. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just wondering if we’re on exhibition.”
“Most definitely.”
Oh, great.
“Is that such a bad thing?”
At his teasing tone, she couldn’t help but smile. “Well…”
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m not shy.”
“Indeed not.”
“We should get back to the tower.”
“Yeah.”
He stayed right where he was and leaned in for another kiss. However, at the exact moment their lips connected, lightning illuminated their surroundings, followed a split second later by thunder that vibrated in her chest.
Her inner wimp took over. Inviting death by screaming at the gates of a demon colony? Easy. Dealing with lightning? She’d rather crawl under a rock.
Actually, clinging to an archangel was a considerable improvement over the rock option, though it still made her a wimp.
“On second thought, the tower is out for the time being.” Kes glanced toward the stone buildings ahead of them on the garden path. “How about we make a run for warm food and a fire?”
She shook her head. “We need to stay here. The lightning.”
“You’re cold.”
“Not really.” She rested her head against his chest.
He chuckled, a self-satisfied sound. “Be that as it may, we’re going. It’s safer inside.”
“But—”
Kes’s arms tightened and he ran with her out from under the pavilion. In a second, they were flying fast but low enough that his wings brushed the flowering bushes on the down stroke, scattering pink, red, and white petals.
They landed on a patio next to a stone building covered with wild grapevines and Kes led her through a recessed entry. Demon fire lanterns filled the dim foyer with an amber ambiance, and muted voices drifted from farther inside the building. As the door shut behind them, she relaxed and placed a hand over her pounding heart.
“There,” he said. “Much faster than walking.”
“You have rose petals in your feathers.”
He shook out his wings as if she’d told him he had bugs. Water shot everywhere. Droplets hit the lanterns and sizzled.
“It was cute.” She folded her arms. “Would have made a great close-up picture, too.”
“Cute?”
“Look at that,” an unfamiliar voice said, “a drowned archangel. Drowned human, too.”
Saffron turned. A demon in a chef’s coat stood in the archway that appeared to lead into a dining room.
“Nice,” the demon said. His gaze traveled down her body.
Oh, damn! Her soaked white pants provided a clear view of her panties! Why hadn’t she chosen jeans? Brilliance, thy name is Saffron.
Kestrel cleared his throat, stepped forward, and extended his wing in front of her body.
The demon held up his palms. “Hey, a guy of any species can’t not look at someone so…”
“Could we get some towels, please?”
“Yeah, sure.” The demon grinned, seemingly unfazed by the glowering archangel. “Coffee?”
“Please,” Kes said, tension remaining in his voice. He met her gaze. “Saffron?”
“Coffee for me, too, please,” she told the demon. “Uh, thanks.”
The demon winked and sauntered off. He called over his shoulder, “Have a seat by the fire.”
Kes led her through the archway. “We’ll go home for dry clothes as soon as it’s safe to fly. In the meantime, they make really good soup here.”
Several demons, all dressed in casual colors as opposed to the Guardians’ black uniform, sat at round tables around a small dining room that seemed big and private in the dim lighting. Staying behind the screen of his wings, she followed Kes to a corner fireplace. The flames—demon fire, redder than normal fire one would strike with a match—radiated plenty of heat. She snubbed the nearby table and sat on the floor directly in front of the hearth.
“Comfortable enough?” Kes sat down beside her, one of his spread wings coming to rest against her back.
“Aside from looking forward to dry clothes, yeah.”
They ordered soup from a young demon woman who managed to give Saffron a hint of a smile along with a pile of towels. The coffee arrived. Kes poured an obscene amount of sugar into his.
“Sweet tooth?” Saffron wrapped a large white towel around herself.
He shrugged. “Using psychic talents drains energy. I use mine involuntarily all the time, so I’ve adapted well, but it’s impossible to overdo the caffeine or sugar.”
“Lucky.”
“Not if I don’t like sugar in my coffee.” He grinned.
She stared into her own brew, which was pale from the extra cream she’d added. “I don’t know how you did that.”
“Did what?”
“Fly us through the storm. I hate to admit it, but my phobia paralyzes me.”
“I wanted to get us both to a safer place.”
“We could have been struck.”
“The odds were in our favor, especially compared to staying outside.”
She shivered and inched closer to the fire. “How can you even stand the idea of going out in a storm? You said your father was killed by lightning.”
His lips thinned and he stared, unfocused, at the flames.
“You saw it, didn’t you?” she asked.
“It’s not something you want to hear about.” He straightened his shoulders. “Like I said, considering he got to live a full life and didn’t die at the hands of poachers, I have no complaints. The only thing he missed out on was a couple decades of decline.” He paused, then his voice grew bitter. “Mom was already dead. Part of me thinks he deliberately got caught in that storm. No archangel wants to grow old and lose the ability to fly, especially after outliving his mate.”
“He couldn’t have done that to his child.”
“I was nearly three hundred years old, not a fledgling.”
“Still. And what about your psychic talent? Didn’t you see his death coming?”
“No. He spent that morning visiting a group of archangels who lived outside the colony, far out of range. Suicide must have been a last-minute decision.”
“It could have been an accident.”
“Yes, it could have. But I don’t think it was.”
“Either way, I’m sorry.”
He fell silent and stared into the flames, his expression drawn and grim and…determined.
The back of her neck prickled. “You’re not thinking of doing the same thing someday, are you?”
His eyebrow quirked.
“Don’t you dare!”
“Why not? It’s quick and far more dignified than shriveling away. I’d rather die in the sky than in a bed.”
“Did your father say anything to you before he…?”
“No. Like I said, it must have been a sudden decision.”
“And why do you suppose that was?”
“Huh?”
“Because he knew you would have tried to stop him. That you would be upset. I’m sure your long lives don’t make losing family any easier.”
“I have no family to leave behind. It makes sense for me.”
“You have friends.”
“Yes.” He set down his empty coffee mug and ran his fingers through his wet hair. “However, I’ve done a good job of distancing myself from them. I didn’t even realize I was doing it, but it’s for the best.”
“No, it’s not.”
He turned his head and stared at her.
“It’s selfish.”
“Old age is a significant portion of your lifespan. Not so for me. A couple decades is nothing.”
“I don’t care how long you live. Every day is precious. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t care that you lost a couple decades with your father.”
“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”
“So be it.”
“Thank you.” Saffron shot Kes a smug grin.
“Fantastic,” Kes muttered. “They’re joining forces.”
The demon bared her fangs and hissed at him, then turned to Saffron. “Let me know if you need a pan to hit him with.”
“I will.”
The demon nodded, her expression grave, and retreated.
“For the record, the possibility has crossed my mind. That’s all. I won’t be that old for a while yet, and I’ll make my choice then.”
She shook her head. No use arguing further. She’d made her point. And who was she to give him her two cents on such a personal matter? Hopefully, his friends would keep him close and he’d make the right decision.
“I have every intention of being a feisty old lady.”
He stirred his soup and smirked. “Oh?”
“I will live through whatever is happening here and I’ll be one of those one-hundred-year-olds who still works every day.”
“That’s a plan I can get behind.”
The warmth in his voice made her pause with her spoon halfway to her mouth.
“I suppose you’ll own your family’s feather collection when you’re older.”
Warm. Cold. Like a caress followed by a gunshot. She rubbed her neck as if she had physical whiplash. “No.”
“No?”
“I will inherit the collection, but I don’t want it. Like I told you, it horrifies me.”
“What will you do with it?”
“I don’t know. I may sell it.”
“It should be destroyed.” The words dripped venom.
She winced. “As horrible as the collection is, it’s valuable and important to my family. My sister will have a say. I don’t want anything to do with it, but I don’t have the right to just destroy it.”
He glowered.
“It won’t be my choice for a while yet, and I’ll make my decision then.” She threw his own words back at him.
To her surprise, he grinned. “Well played.”
They finished their soup in silence. By then, the fire had dried her clothes, at least in the front. However, his wing kept her back warm. Uncertain how he’d react, but willing to risk it at this point, she scooted closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder.
He encircled her waist with his arms. “Saffron. I have a suggestion.”
“Hmm?”
“For as long as you stay in Eden, let’s set the Morin-archangel complication aside.”
“Set it aside?”
“A little harmless delusion.” He ran his fingers through her hair and down the back of her neck. Slow. Firm. “So we can spend our time focused on other matters.”
His tone clearly referred to matters other than her graveside dance. The sensual recollection of their kiss on the pavilion swept over her and her heart tried to kick its way out of her chest. She couldn’t resist the temptation for more of Kes’s warm side. “I think that sounds like a plan.”
…
Kestrel did his absolute best to keep his mind out of the gutter and tend to business. When the storm passed, leaving a small patch of blue sky in its wake, he flew Saffron to the tower. Once dressed in dry clothes—she chose a bright blue shirt and jeans this time—he flew them to the medical center and landed on the flat area of the roof.
She’d gathered her hair in a loose bun. As she walked ahead of him toward the doors, he admired the exposed skin of her upper back. A beauty mark dotted the right side of her neck.
He was going to kiss that spot and make his way down her spine, sans the blue cotton. However that would have to wait.
“Hello, Saffron. Kestrel.” Cherie met them in the pristine lobby. Dressed in a knee-length white coat, the human doctor tucked her short blond hair behind her ears and took Saffron’s hand. “I’m Dr. Cherie Williams, but Cherie is fine. I understand you’ve become the subject of Kestrel’s morbid quirk?”
Saffron nodded.
“Well, if it’s anything that can be addressed here, we will do so. Not to worry.” A familiar disarming smile illuminated Cherie’s face. The human’s bedside manner never failed to put even the most suspicious of the demons at ease. “Kestrel, will you wait out here, please?”
“Yeah.”
Cherie led Saffron away with a hand on her shoulder. Saffron glanced back with a lingering grin.
The humans disappeared through a wooden door. Kestrel paced. What would Cherie find? Would she give Saffron a clean bill of health? Would a definitive cause for alarm be better than remaining in the dark?
“You all right?”
Kestrel turned and faced his Guardian, who’d stepped out of nowhere, as usual. “They’re discussing her medical history.” He pressed a finger to his temple. “I can still hear her every word.”
“I asked if you were okay.”
Kes stared at the wooden door. “Of course I am.”
“Right, sure. Why the white-knuckled fists, then?” The demon moved closer and leaned his shoulder against the wall. After a quiet moment, he said, “I overheard the conversation in the café.”
“Privacy, Dec.”
“Not a lot of room in that building.” The Guardian lifted a single shoulder in a non-apologetic shrug. “I need to admit that one of the reasons I reacted so strongly yesterday is I know you’ve been considering taking an early out, one day.”
“I’ve never told you that.”
“I’ve seen the way you look into the storm clouds. What I never realized was that you thought your father flew into that storm on purpose.”
Kestrel stretched some tension out of his wings.
“It really was an accident, Kes,” Dec said.
“How can you possibly know?”
“Because he was in the middle of making big plans for your three-hundredth birthday.”
Kestrel shut his eyes. “What?”
“The entire reason he was out that day was to invite the archangels who lived outside the colony, including a female he was hell bent on setting you up with.”
A humorless laugh escaped Kestrel’s throat. He scrubbed his face with the heels of his hands. “That sounds like Dad.”
“The last thing I wanted was for you to feel any guilt over the accident. I’m sorry. I should have told you. I didn’t want you to feel at all responsible for his death.”
“Make it up to me by not giving up on my sorry ass?”
Dec smiled. “I’ll be here. It’d be cruel to sentence someone else to the likes of you.”
“Thank you.” Kestrel lifted his wing and brushed the demon’s arm, a symbol of trust he extended to very few.
“You and the girl have gotten quite cozy.”
“She’s…” Kes shook his head. “Irresistible.”
“She’s lovely and she puts up with you. Cue the Hallelujah chorus. I’d vote you keep her, if she were anyone else.”
Chapter Seven
Saffron sat on a padded examination table in what could have been a doctor’s office in any hospital in the country—save for the clay replica of a fanged humanoid skull. The scent of sanitation chemicals annoyed her, as did the ugly anatomy posters. However, Dr. Cherie had been efficient and compassionate. Now, they only needed to wait for the results of a few tests.
The wait would be short. Unlike in a human hospital, there was no system to complicate matters. No “we’ll call you in a week.” Instead, just “Hang in there, sweetie, I’m going to look at the CAT scan and blood work results. I’ll be right back.”
Dr. Cherie had confirmed what Saffron already knew—she seemed healthy. However, some things could only be found through tests.
Saffron rubbed her sweating palms on her cotton exam gown. She’d never had to wait for possible bad news before. All trips to the doctor had been routine physicals. Suddenly, the ro
om seemed too small and the air too stuffy. Unable to sit still, she slid off the table, only to pitch into the counter when her knees refused to support her weight.
She couldn’t wait in here alone, but she had no idea how to get back to the foyer. She’d been in and out of several rooms for the tests. Time to put the psychic talent to work. She whispered, “Kes?”
She waited a moment, leaning back against the counter, gripping the edge with shaking fingers. The clock on the wall ticked loud enough to hurt her ears. “Kes.”
A soft knock reached her ears, as did the voice she was hoping for. “Saffron?”
“Come in.”
The door opened and Kestrel shouldered his way through, his wings tight to his body. He stood in the small space like an eagle stuffed into a canary cage.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and collapsed against his chest. “Waiting for test results. I just needed company. Sorry.”
His warm hands smoothed down her back. “No need to apologize.”
She found it easy to let go of her sense of dread, focusing instead on the rise and fall of his chest and the scent of post-storm air that clung to his shirt from their flight to the medical center. She let out a heavy exhale and the small, downy feathers that cradled his arm danced in her breath.
“Doesn’t that tickle?”
“Huh?”
“Your feathers. The backs of my arms are so ticklish, I’d never be able to tolerate—”
He lifted his hands and brushed the tips of his fingers over the spot in question. She should have seen that coming. She yelped and tried to wiggle free, but he locked her against him with his arms around her middle. Then, damn him, he folded his wings forward and swept his feathers up the back of her body.
She struggled, half laughing, half screaming, as he repeated the torture with his wings several times. He stopped and covered her mouth with his before she could catch her breath. His face was taut from suppressed laughter.
“Never tell an archangel you’re ticklish,” he said.
“Noted.”
“It’s too late for you, my dear.” He kissed her again.
