by Rush, Jaime
Lyra’s scream jerked his head around. The wraith had pulled out one of her scales and was slicing at her throat with it in wild arcs. Archer grabbed its hand, twisting it. With a screech, it kicked at Archer’s arm, pulling free to take a swipe at her throat again. The edge of the scale was sharp enough to slice into her shoulder. Blood spurted out in an arc of spray. Archer latched on to the wraith with one arm. It thrashed and scratched him, but he plunged the dhagger into its chest.
Its whole body lit up, and then it disintegrated like the other wraith’s arm. He turned to find that wraith snatching up the scale. Before Archer could grab it back, the thing cut his side. It met the same death with his dhagger. He did a quick scan of the garage to make sure there weren’t any others. Just the two. Whoever sent them hadn’t counted on Lyra being with him. Two on one was a lot harder.
Lyra.
He turned to find her lying on the concrete floor in human form, naked and curled in a fetal position. Her clothes were in tatters nearby, her purse lying next to them.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. He scooped her up, snagged her purse, and stepped into the car. Blood gushed out of her shoulder wound, a long, deep slice. Her eyes were hazy with pain.
“Let me get you upstairs. I can heal you.”
She blinked at him, amber flames flickering unsteadily in her blue eyes. Her pain and fear overwhelmed him. He focused on the feel of her skin beneath his hands, then realized that skin was her ass, soft, round…
Hell.
He could see the reflection of that fine ass in the brass walls of the elevator, his hand splayed across it, his other arm around her back. She had to be naked. Because this wasn’t hard enough. He tried to force cool energy through his being to compensate for her heat where their skin touched.
“Hurts…,” she uttered in a strained voice.
“I know, I know,” he soothed, because I can feel it. “It’ll be gone soon.”
The elevator opened, and he stepped into the apartment. He set her down on his bed.
“You’re b-beautiful,” she whispered, her eyes glassy.
“Sleep.” He waved his hand over her face, and her eyes drifted closed.
She was shivering, going into shock. He placed his palm over her shoulder, her warm blood slick on his skin. Pain seared his shoulder, hot and intense. He jammed the corner of the blanket between his teeth. She jerked, grimacing as the pain tore away from her. Then she relaxed as the last of it left her and now cut through him. He breathed through it, biting down hard on the blanket. How had she endured it? She was brave, fighting like a warrior. Finally, the pain left him, too, and he sagged with relief.
He had healed before, usually in dire circumstances when either Crescent or Mundane were in such pain or fear that the sight of an angel didn’t seem so terribly unusual. Even one whose wings weren’t pristine white. He then went off to deal with the pain he’d taken, alone.
He wasn’t alone now. He caressed her shoulder, unmarred now but covered with thickening blood. He went to the kitchen and returned with a bowl of warm water and a towel. She was still asleep. He knew Dragons tried to shed their clothes before they transformed. She hadn’t had time to disrobe. A long time ago, he’d fought a Dragon. Now he’d fought alongside one.
He knelt on the bed beside her and ran the cloth over her skin, washing away the blood. There was no need for modesty because he had no sexual drive. Another side effect of the human–angel union was to suffer pain at feeling desire, others’ and their own. All Caidos had to shut down that part of themselves for self-preservation. So it meant nothing to run the cloth over her breasts, her flat stomach, and hip bones that jutted out slightly. To wash her yellow Dragon tattoo that slept as she did.
That he was taking his time had nothing to do with his drinking in her curves. Yet his fingers itched to touch her, as he had at the club. His body stirred as it had not in many years. How long since blood had rushed into that particular organ? He was hoping it had atrophied, and this was why.
He dropped the cloth into the bowl and set it on the nightstand, then pulled up a sheet to cover her. He had never been drawn to a woman. Desired one, yes, but never pulled like this, right from his soul. He’d seen the danger of that in Grayson’s haunted eyes and his rage, his experience a warning to all Caidos.
Not that this woman would torture him on purpose. She was torturing him, though.
He ran the back of his fingers against her cheek, so soft and flawless. He would allow himself only this touch. Nowhere intimate that would violate her sanctity. It would be the last time he’d touch her.
You’re weak from the healing. Stop. Don’t give in.
He knew his conscience was right. Where angels feared to tread, that place was here with this woman on his bed. Still, he couldn’t pull his hand away, her warmth seeping into all the cold places inside him. Being in full wing usually numbed the pain he felt from emotions. But amazingly, he could feel it like a low-voltage hum through his being. He indulged in a need he didn’t know he had.
“Beautiful,” he whispered to her, having never uttered those words about anyone before.
With a gasp, she grabbed his hand and shot to a sitting position. “Where am I?” She took him in with wide eyes, and he could see the pieces clicking in her mind. “What were you doing?”
“Cleaning the blood off you.”
The sheet had fallen away, pooling around her waist. She snatched it up again, covering her breasts. She searched herself, her shoulder. “I was cut, badly. I remember the pain. God, it hurt so much.” Her hand groped all along her skin.
“You’re fine now, though in need of some clothing.” He got up and opened the drawer where he kept things for his short stay. He located a button-down shirt and blindly handed it to her, remaining turned away.
“You healed me?”
Thankfully she hadn’t seen the cost. He faced her again, and the sight of his shirt draped over her small body tightened his stomach. “Yes.”
She brushed her fingers across her cheek where he’d touched her moments before, a puzzled expression on her face. Could she feel the echo of his touch? Then her eyes went to his wings, and her voice softened to a reverent hush. “I’ve never seen a Caido’s wings before. They’re luminescent, like smoky silver. You have a glow all around you.”
She wanted to touch his wings. He could see it in her eyes, the way they caressed the width of them. The thought shivered through him, not painful but…tempting.
Her wonderment fled. “You’ve been hurt, too. Can you heal yourself?”
Archer looked at the cut on his side. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, only crusted with dried blood. “It will heal on its own.”
Lyra took the cloth from the bowl and wrung out the water. As she stretched to reach him, the sheet fell away. The shirt covered her hips and ass but left her long, creamy legs bare. She hissed in pain at the same second he saw the red, angry line on the back of her thigh.
She twisted around to see it. “Bastard ripped out one of my scales. And tried to slice my throat with it!”
“Calm down.” Now her anger pulsed. “I’ll heal it.” He sat on the edge of the bed and waved his hand over it.
“You put me to sleep, didn’t you?” She winced but never took her gaze from him. Which made him work harder to keep his expression neutral as he took her pain.
“Consider it a sedative.”
The line disappeared from her skin, burning on his thigh for a few seconds before fading.
She was watching him. “You take on the pain.”
He lifted a shoulder. “It’s just a sting.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s nothing. Really.”
She started to reach toward the cut with the washcloth but paused. “You don’t like it when people touch you.”
He shook his head. “No, we don’t.”
She bent her legs to the side, a demure position, yet still provocative. “Let me get this straight. Your energy draws
women to you, but you don’t like anyone to touch you.”
He had to be careful what he revealed. Knowledge was dangerous to Caidos. “Ironic, isn’t it? We don’t want that attraction. In fact, we despise it.”
“That’s why you stay in these ivory towers and never mingle with anyone.”
“Correct.” Sitting on a bed with a half-naked Dragon made that even more important.
“But you’ve touched me.” Her hand went to her neck, to exactly where he’d touched her at the bar. His touch had left an impression on her. “So how is it fair that you can touch me, but I can’t touch you?”
“Who said life was fair? Look, I won’t touch you either. That should even things out.”
He didn’t like her expression that indicated she was trying to figure him out. She was smart, this one. Her desire pulsed at him in waves, physically pulling at him before he pushed back.
She cat-walked across the bed toward him, stopping inches from where he stood. “It’s okay. You can touch me.” Her voice was husky.
“No, I can’t.” His fingers curled, fighting the need to do as she said.
“But you want to. You know how I can tell? Your eyes are shimmering the same way they did back at the bar.” She took his hand and placed it against her neck. “When you did this.” Then drew it down to rest against her collarbone.
He couldn’t breathe. Even muffled by being in full wing, desire rushed through him as it had at the bar. He’d nearly lost it then, until the pain grew too harsh. He pulled his hand back. “Don’t. I have no interest in getting involved with you. Or anyone.” He took the washcloth, still in her other hand. “I have to figure out who sent wraiths after us. We picked them up at the nightclub, which means someone’s watching us, probably has been since we left Jeremy’s apartment.” He wiped the blood—her blood—from his chest.
Lyra settled back on her heels, hands on her thighs. Hurt played over her expression and his heart. Let her think he was an ass, like most Crescents did. Those snobby, asexual Caidos who think they’re better than anyone else because they came from those closest to Luca, the highest god on the island. They also paid the biggest price for betraying him.
His wings brushed the wall. For certain skills, like healing, he had to transform to angel. Now that she was healed, he had to become human again. “Excuse me a second.” He swallowed any expression of discomfort and pulled in the energy of his wings.
She was watching in fascination. “Did you shred your shirt?”
Archer sank to the edge of the bed, fatigue gnawing at him. “It’s in tatters with your clothes in the garage. We’ll pick everything up when we leave.” Fortunately, he still had on his pants.
“It probably looks like there was a sex frenzy down there.”
And thank you for putting that particular picture in my mind, me tearing off your clothes…
She wrapped her arms around herself. “Those things were creepy. You said wraiths were dead Caidos.”
“If a Caido isn’t properly interred after his death, his soul becomes a wraith.”
“I hate to even say this, but could one of those wraiths we fought be Jeremy?”
Archer’s stomach tightened. “I thought about that, too. There’s no way to tell. All of a Caido’s individual features are gone, everything that makes them who they are.”
“But they had a will. They definitely wanted to kill us.”
“As though they were following orders.” His gaze fell over her, remembering her fighting them. His emotions—fear, desire—pressed uncomfortably against his soul. “Do you still want to go into your memory?”
“Yes, please. Maybe if I know the note contained nothing incriminating, my brother and Ellie will forgive me. There might be a clue as to what happened to Tara, too.”
“You said the note was at your bakery. It would be optimal to go there.”
The farther away they could get from his bed the better. Because the temptation was getting to be way too much.
Chapter 6
A whole slew of emotions battered Lyra as they drove from her apartment, where she’d grabbed a change of clothes. She noticed that, as she ran through all the craziness of the last few hours, Archer leaned away from her.
Caidos were enigmas, but she had never bothered to care about their mystery. Until now. She had some ideas, just enough to tantalize her. One thing she knew for sure, at least as far as Archer was concerned, he wasn’t asexual. When she’d placed his hand to her throat, not only had his eyes glittered, but his body had responded, too.
So he was what? Too stuck on himself and his Caido status to deign to admit he liked her? No, it was more than that. He cared about her, even in the way he glanced over to check on her from time to time. How he’d watched over her, fought to protect her from the wraiths.
She loved the way his hand felt on her, electric and right, and that had nothing to do with his Caidoness. Damn but she wanted to touch him, too.
He was wincing now, his fingers gripping the wheel.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Just…thinking.”
She was going to ask about what but decided against it. He probably wouldn’t tell her anyway.
He pulled up to the curb in front of Lirin’s Bake Shop.
“Lirin?”
“It’s a combination of my and my brother’s names. My parents thought it would be cute.”
“Ah. Cute.” He said the word “cute” as though he’d never used it before.
She glanced at her watch. Three in the morning. “I’m supposed to be at work in an hour, along with the early shift.” Then she would work right on through the afternoon shift, too, because her father’s absence left a big hole in the schedule.
Archer got out, and she swore he was going to walk around to her side to open her door if she hadn’t already done so.
She pulled her keys out and jammed the right one into the lock. “Why are we coming here?”
“It helps to go to the place where the event happened, keeps you from wandering to other memories.” He stepped in behind her, and she flicked on the lights. “You’d be surprised what I’ve found in people’s minds.”
Oh, gawd, she hoped he couldn’t see anything but the memory. What if she had a thought about him? Of course, the memory of his jeans, tight over his erection, and his bare chest, and his wings…
Oh, boy, she was in trouble.
“So we went to the Raphael because of the wraiths?”
“I didn’t want to engage them here. I’m sorry you had to fight them. I would have sent you away, but I suspected one would have followed you.”
“I can handle myself, as you saw. Dragons are trained to fight from the time they’re Awakened at thirteen. Living among the Hidden, you have to be ready for anything.”
She led the way to the back, where the ovens and worktables were. Footsteps scurried across the floor. Something skittered around the corner.
Archer shifted into fight mode, body stiff, arms akimbo as he scanned the space.
“Sorry, forgot to warn you about the Earthies. Elementals,” she clarified at his questioning expression.
Pink fairy dust, made of colored sugar crystals, covered one of the tables with the telltale impression of squat bodies having been rolling in it. Peering around the corner of a cabinet was one of them.
“Gogo, what did I tell you about getting into the fairy dust sugar? That stuff’s expensive.”
Gogo stepped out, eyes too big for his face, with a bulbous nose and puffy lips. At least he had the decency to look chagrined. Perhaps his chortling sound was an apology. When he saw Archer, he ducked out of sight again.
Archer had been watching. “You employ Elementals?”
She laughed. “No, we sort of have a deal with them. When I started working here during high school, I discovered that Pop had instigated a war with them. The sugar draws them, and they’re hard to get rid of.”
“Have you tried a fumigator?”
She w
aved that away. “We don’t want to hurt them. Well, my pop did. They would dump out flour and spell obscenities in it. They’d appear when Mundanes were out front, and he couldn’t control himself. He’d yell and throw things, and the Mundanes thought he was a crazy grump.” She laughed, but it died down as she thought about that crazy grump being missing.
Archer took one step away. “We’ll find him. Go on.”
He had known what she was feeling. She tucked that away. “So I made a deal with them. They could stay in peace if they behaved. I even leave them treats. Four of them keep the deal. Two, not so much. But it’s better than it was before.”
He turned around. “What do you do here?”
“I manage things. Since my mom died when I was fifteen”—another step away—“I took over her role, which is dealing with the bigger customers and sometimes handling the front.” She opened an old pie safe. Inside were several shelves full of goodies. She plucked out a triangular cookie with a corner filled with jelly and handed it to him. “Raspberry jelly,” she said when he eyed it. “It’s called a Dragon tear. I came up with it myself.”
“Clever.” He took a bite and then finished it off. “Good.”
“I created Dragon pastries and Deuce stars. Nothing for Caidos, sorry. They never come in. And now we don’t even have many Crescent customers. Once Pop was cast in the shadow of suspicion over Tara’s disappearance, it tainted the shop. We lost a lot of locals, people who’d seen Pop’s outbursts and figured he must have done something to her. Luckily, we didn’t lose the bigger accounts, like restaurants and hotels.”
She stuffed a tear into her mouth, letting the butter cookie melt on her tongue. “These are the products that didn’t sell yesterday.” She took in the shelves with a sigh.
He had, of course, moved away again, as he did every time her mood dampened. “What do you do with the leftovers?”
“I put some out for the Earthies. The rest go to a shelter for abused women and children. They love all the treats and breads, and sometimes I even make a batch just for them.”
