by Sarah Gilman
A knock on the door interrupted. “Is everything okay in there?”
Saffron stepped back and smoothed her hair. “Yeah, come in.”
Cherie entered the room with a folder under her arm and one eyebrow arched behind a pair of reading glasses. She looked from Saffron to Kestrel. “Well, don’t you look smug?”
Kestrel shrugged and pulled Saffron to his side. “Did you find anything, Cherie?”
“Yes.”
Saffron tensed and the dread returned in full force.
Cherie’s expression softened. “It’s treatable.”
Saffron sagged. Kestrel rubbed her shoulders.
“You have an aortic aneurysm. The condition is more typical in older humans, but can occur in youth, especially when a defect is present from birth, which I believe to be the case here. For an aneurysm of this size on the largest artery in the body, surgery is essential to prevent rupture, which would cause fatal internal bleeding. With surgery, however, your prognosis is excellent.”
Kestrel’s arms came around her from behind. She let her head fall back against his shoulder. Prognosis is excellent. However, she couldn’t shake the sinking feeling she’d had since breakfast.
“You’re certain it’s a good prognosis?” she asked Cherie. “If Kestrel’s hearing my voice in his head…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish.
“You’ll be fine only if you get the surgery. Your condition will be fatal if untreated. Given that these aneurysms often lack symptoms, Kestrel certainly saved your life.”
Even though she faced surgery, she managed a smile. “Thank you.”
“Can the surgery be done here?” Kestrel’s arms tightened.
“Preferably not,” Cherie said. “I have minimal experience with the procedure. Same for the other doctors on staff. Aneurysms simply don’t occur in the demon or archangel population. Saffron, who is your primary physician?”
She gave the name of the doctor and the hospital.
“I’ll pass my results on to them. Expect the surgery to be scheduled before the week is out. We’ll see to transportation.”
“What about risk of rupture in the meantime?” Saffron dropped her hands to her middle, which concealed the hidden aneurysm.
“Avoid heavy lifting or anything with harsh contact, like boxing. Otherwise, go about your normal activities. I encourage you not to shy away from exercise, as it is far more beneficial than harmful. Sex is fine, too.” She cleared her throat. “If I understand Kestrel’s talent correctly, he should stop hearing your voice now that we’ve set a solution in motion. If not, there’s a likelihood of impending rupture and we’ll resort to emergency surgery here.”
Saffron fought a wave of nausea. “Can I go home? I’d be close enough to the hospital for emergency surgery there.” She spoke the words even as she hoped Cherie would insist she stay. Once she left the colony, she’d certainly never be able to come back. She squeezed Kes’s hand.
“I’d rather you stay here where Kestrel can detect changes at any time. However, the decision is yours.”
“I’ll stay.” She craned her neck and met Kestrel’s gaze. “Can I call Thyme and tell her what’s going on?”
“As soon as we get back to the tower.”
Cherie smiled. “Good. Kestrel, would you please step outside?”
Kestrel left and the door shut behind him. Saffron shivered without his body against hers. She sat on the exam table.
“Do you have any other questions for me?”
“A million.”
“All right. First, count to ten out loud.”
Saffron counted.
Cherie turned toward the door and shouted, “Kes?”
“I didn’t hear anything,” Kes called back.
“Excellent.” Cherie touched Saffron’s shoulder.
The relief hit so hard, Saffron buried her face in her hands and cried. Though far from okay, at least she had Kestrel—the archangel who shouldn’t have cared about her, but did.
…
If she were anyone else.
Kestrel shoved Dec’s words aside and focused on the matter at hand, namely not flying into a building in his distraction. Now that would be an embarrassing way to die. He could see the headline now:
Idiot Archangel Flies into Building Thinking about Female. Does Species Proud.
In much need of some flight time, he’d left Saffron to shower. He’d made a couple trips between the business district and the tower, stocking his home with a variety of food. Now, he just circled. He beat his wings and flew higher, away from the buildings and into open sky.
He wasn’t the only one taking advantage of the wide swath of blue between storms. Nal streaked over with her cardinal-red wings, circled him, and shot off down the valley. Rave, with his raven-black plumage, ascended and flew at Kes’s side. Onyx, Rave’s recently fledged daughter, flew to their left, struggling but holding her own with the strong drafts that made the forest canopy below them sway.
Kestrel had never had the strong desire to be a parent—he couldn’t contemplate raising a child without envisioning how he’d explain to him or her the species’ plight, or worse, wondering if the young would end up on the planet alone, the last of the race. A small part of him regretted not having children, but the idea of giving a child such a burden caused him pain.
However, he couldn’t begrudge Eden’s mated pairs. He envied them. They refused to give up on survival or on family. They were simply braver than he.
Rave—Eden’s lone telepath save for his young daughter—turned his head to the side and stared at Kes with an expression of pure shock.
No, we’re not brave. We’re terrified. You’re not alone in that pain. The other archangel projected his bass voice directly into Kes’s mind, the infiltration accompanied by a physical sensation much like the air pressure change during a swift descent from a high-altitude flight. Not painful, but noticeable.
Kes swallowed and nodded. He’d never admit to fear out loud. With the telepath, honesty was the only option.
Speaking of honesty, what the hell is going on with you and the Morin woman?
Giving Rave a careful answer was impossible. His thoughts and emotions sped through his mind, everything bare to the other archangel in a matter of seconds. At least he was used to it, and Rave had never, in the three hundred years Kestrel had known him, betrayed anyone’s trust.
Kestrel punctuated the mental-stripping with a firm thought: Her family doesn’t define her.
That’s tough to swallow, Kes.
Yes, it was. Why was that so easy to forget in her presence?
I have to agree, if she were anyone else, this would be something to celebrate.
This?
Crush. Lust. Infatuation—
Infatuation? No, no way. It’s nothing that serious.
Right. Whatever you want to call it. I’m happy for you, for what it’s worth. You needed a little air in your lungs.
“She’ll be gone in a few days,” Kestrel muttered.
That’s for the best. By the way, Virgil wants me to meet her before she leaves.
Why?
To get all the details of the Morin mansion, of course. Her parents’ schedules. Anything and everything she knows. With that information, the Guardians can plan an effective assassination.
A wave of anger on Saffron’s behalf flooded Kestrel’s system, followed by shame directed at himself, and then resolve. No infatuation trumped his own species.
We’d all be a lot safer with the Morins dead. My daughter would be safer.
Kestrel shook his head. The Morins weren’t singularly responsible for the poachers. There were plenty of other Collectors around the world.
True, but anything is better than nothing, especially in our own backyard, and it’s a chance to destroy the feathers and put our loved ones to rest.
Too right, on all counts. “Stop by any time.”
I will. Be well, friend.
Rave banked and escorted his daughter back to
ward the colony.
Kes glided for a few more minutes, letting his mind blank to all but the wind over his body. When the sun stained the western horizon orange and red, he turned, increased his pace, and headed for the clock tower.
Chapter Eight
Saffron spent three days in a state of comfortable boredom, doing her best not to think about her condition or the upcoming surgery. Before her sister’s disappearance, she’d been pushing herself hard and keeping long hours—trying to do everything and make time for everyone. Passing the days with Kestrel amounted to an indulgent vacation: sleeping in, eating good food, reading books, lying in the sun, and speaking with Thyme each day on the cell phone. If only he had a pool on the terrace and a blender for frozen drinks, she’d have been in heaven.
Good thing Eden wasn’t heaven, though. She’d go straight to hell for her thoughts about her archangel host.
Kestrel left her for hours on end each day to fly with others of his kind, but he also joined her for walks around the colony. True to their agreement, her family never came up in conversation. What a relief. Without having her background constantly thrown in her face, she and Kes got along like old friends.
Old friends who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.
Whenever they got too close to each other, they ended up kissing. They got too close to each other at every opportunity. Each day, it got more and more out of hand.
On the morning of her fourth day in Eden, she got up early and tiptoed past the archangel sprawled on the floor. She gathered her hair up off her neck and moved through her yoga routine on the terrace as the sun rose. She’d woken from a dream in which she and Kes had done a hell of a lot more than kiss, and now she needed an outlet for the energy that made her body hum.
She wanted more. He did too—his body never hid that fact. Question was, considering she was leaving tomorrow, was it best to seize the day, or let it go without complicating the matter further?
As it was, she was going to miss him.
“Saffron?”
She eased herself out of warrior pose and turned to the archangel. He leaned against the doorframe, one ankle crossed over the other, watching her.
“Stay there, Kes.”
“Why?”
She perused his body. He slept in nothing but a pair of loose cotton pants that sat low on his hips. His form was that of an athlete—flying, apparently, was a full-body exercise. His hair was mussed, but his mottled feathers were impeccably arranged and groomed. His skin gleamed in the light.
“Because if you come any closer, I’m going to jump you.”
His eyebrows shot up.
“You’ve been warned.” She turned and focused on the waning gold of the sunrise, leaving him the choice of the next move. He’d either go back inside and start their waffle breakfast, or—
Heavy hands settled on her hips from behind. Warm lips kissed the nape of her neck. She tilted her head back and he pressed his cheek to hers. They stood like that, silent, until the sunrise faded entirely. After a murmured discussion in which she clarified that she used a long-term birth control medication, he steered her toward the door.
He hadn’t gotten in bed with her since their first morning together, during the thunderstorm. He brought her there now, sat with his wings extended behind him, and guided her backward to sit between his bent knees. She leaned against his warm chest, her hands on his thighs.
He pulled her shirt over her head. She’d neglected a bra for yoga, leaving her bare to his touch. As he kissed her neck, he explored her skin with his hands, making her shiver and grow warmer at the same time.
“Are we really alone?” she whispered, awareness of Fire Eyes’ constant presence. She scrutinized the dark corners of the room, even though it was impossible to spot the Guardian when he wished to remain out of sight.
“Dec gives me true privacy when I ask it of him, yes, though it’s like asking a troll to leave his bridge. He’s not far, but he’s most definitely not here.” He flipped her onto her belly and eased her yoga pants and panties down her legs.
Propped on her elbows, she craned her neck and watched him. He bent forward and nipped the sensitive back of her thigh with his teeth. When she squirmed, he held her ankles and teased her other thigh.
“Is there any place you’re not ticklish?” His mouth curved with devilish promise and he worked his way higher. He pressed his lips to the small of her back and slowly kissed his way up her spine, his wings draped to either side of them.
When he reached her neck, she rolled over, grasped his shoulders, and sealed his mouth with hers. Exploring his chest and back as she kissed him, she found the hem of his pants and boxers and pushed the offending material down.
“Touch me,” he murmured. He kicked his pants off the edge of the bed.
She cupped the smooth curve of his backside. Shame his wings hid such an ass from view most of the time. Criminal, really. She reached for the front of his hips with one hand and gripped him. He sucked in air through his teeth.
“All of me.” He spread kisses across her breasts, driving her to agony with sensation.
Shaking, she lifted her hands to his wings. Despite the hours they’d logged lip-locked since her arrival, he hadn’t invited her to touch his wings and she’d kept her hands studiously on his skin. That he finally desired such contact—by extension accepting her, despite who she was—made her eyes water.
She smoothed her palms across his feathers and the curves of thick muscle beneath. Kes groaned and arched his back, bringing his lower body in contact with hers. He kissed her, tender and shaking, and eased himself into her.
And then they both lost control.
They made love until red marks from Saffron’s fingers streaked his shoulders and her orgasm left her lightheaded. He finished a moment after her, his face buried in her hair, which had long since fallen free from its ties.
Catching their breath, they stayed in each other’s arms amongst the tangled bedding. Kes lifted himself and stared down at her, his head cocked to the side. He didn’t say a word, but the way he ran his fingers over her cheek, down her throat, and across her shoulder conveyed volumes.
“I’m going to miss you,” she whispered.
Kes brushed his lips across hers. She kissed him back, lightly, savoring the feel of his skin. Pain tightened her chest.
He stretched out at her side and pulled her close. They lay together in silence. Saffron drifted to sleep in the warm morning sunbeams filtering in from the windows.
…
Kestrel lounged half-asleep in bed, content to pass the morning surrounded by Saffron’s scent and pressed against her warm skin. He kept his wings folded away from her in an uncomfortable position. Covering her with a wing would be the natural thing to do, but he wanted her bare to his gaze.
He rested a hand on her skin where her body curved from her hip to her waist. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed through parted, pink lips. He kissed the lightning burn on her shoulder.
How grand it would be to do this every morning. To go on those walks he’d begun to enjoy with her every day. He also would miss her.
Nauseous, he shut his eyes. Never in five hundred years had he anticipated missing a lover. He’d been involved with his fair share of females, archangel and demon, and had cared deeply for a few of them. However, each time, they’d parted ways satisfied. Fulfilled. Ready to move on to the next stage of their long lives.
He’d watched several of those females go on to settle down with mates. He’d been happy for them. To find a mate and share that unbreakable bond was a blessing. He’d never truly wanted it for himself because he’d never found someone he wanted that profound a connection to. And now, he faced the waning years of his existence.
He also faced saying goodbye to Saffron.
Which was seriously going to hurt.
However, what hurt more was knowing how much she’d hate him after he took her to see Rave in the afternoon. He’d stalled the other archangel an
d Virgil this long, but couldn’t do so any longer. The deed had to be done before Saffron left the colony tomorrow morning.
Saffron didn’t deserve to be hurt. She didn’t deserve to be betrayed. She’d given him so much trust, from when he flew with her for the first time, to staying with him after he’d explained his psychic talent and its implications. She’d given him all this affection knowing full well the depth of his hatred for her family.
However, he’d known her for four days. His species fought for survival. The scales could not tip in her favor.
In all reality, he wouldn’t be able to say goodbye to her when she left. By then, she wouldn’t be speaking to him.
He leaned down and kissed her temple. “Goodbye, Saffron. I will miss you, too. And I’m so sorry.”
Chapter Nine
The sun hung low in the west, casting long shadows across the path. Saffron walked at Kestrel’s side through the same garden where they’d been caught in a downpour days ago. He held one wing partially extended, touching her back.
The acres of roses and herbs were magnificent in the golden afternoon light. Curse the Guardians for denying her the camera in her car. She needed it. Taking photos was her tried-and-true outlet for nervous energy and her optimal coping mechanism.
“I wish I could take your picture.”
He shook his head. “I appreciate your project, but even if the Guardians approved it, I don’t like the idea of being on display. Carny, on the other hand—”
“I don’t want your picture for my project. I want it for me.” She ran her fingers over some white roses—wet from a recent shower—lining the path. “The first picture I ever took was in elementary school, with a pink camera Mom had gotten me for my birthday. A friend was moving away, so I took her picture. I hate the passage of time. Hate how flowers like these will drop their petals before long. I take photos to hold on to things I can’t actually hold on to. Like you.”
“Saffron.”
“I’m just saying it like it is. I’ve never met a man whose company I’ve enjoyed like this.”
“Our time together has meant that much to you?”
She swallowed. “Yes. Four days is not enough. This, meaning you and me, could have been…”
