“Do they know?” Hunt asked quietly, storms in his eyes. “About you? About us?”
“No idea,” Ruhn said, toying with his lip ring. “I think we’d be dead if they did, though.”
Hunt blew out a sigh. “Yeah, you would be. They would have taken you in for questioning already.”
“The Hind is a fucking monster,” Ithan said, turning on the TV. “Her and the Harpy, both.”
“I could have told you that,” Hunt said, finishing his beer and striding to where Bryce stood before the glass dining table. She didn’t stop him as he slid a hand over her jaw, cupping her cheek, and kissed her. Just a swift brush of their mouths, but it was a claiming and a promise.
“Rain check?” he murmured onto her lips. Right. The dinner and the hotel—
She frowned pitifully. “Rain check.”
He chuckled, but grew deadly serious. “Be careful. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t go looking for that kid without me.” He kissed her forehead before leaving the apartment.
Bryce offered up silent prayers to Cthona and Urd to protect him.
“Glad you two finally sorted it out,” Tharion said from the couch.
Bryce flipped him off. But Ruhn sniffed her carefully. “You … smell different.”
“She smells like the Istros,” Ithan said from the couch.
“No, it’s …” Ruhn’s brows twitched toward each other, and he scratched at the buzzed side of his head. “I can’t explain it.”
“Stop sniffing me, Ruhn.” Bryce hopped onto the couch on Tharion’s other side. “It’s gross. Story time?”
34
“How do I look?” Celestina whispered to Hunt as they stood in front of the desk in her private study. Isaiah flanked her other side, Naomi to his left, Baxian to Hunt’s right. Baxian had barely done more than nod to Hunt when he’d entered.
Hunt had taken the flight over here to soothe his nerves, his residual rage and awe at what he and Bryce had done. What they’d learned. By the time he’d alighted on the landing veranda, his face had become impassive once more. The mask of the Umbra Mortis.
It cracked a little, however, upon seeing Pollux a step away from Naomi. Grinning with feral, anticipatory delight.
This was a reunion from Hel. The Hind and the Hammer, back together once more. Never mind the Harpy and the Helhound—things had always revolved around Pollux and Lidia, their twin shriveled souls, and no one else. Thank the gods the Hawk had stayed behind in Pangera.
Hunt murmured to Celestina, “You look like a female about to enter an arranged mating.” He was amazed his words had come out so casually, considering how his morning had gone.
The Archangel, clad in dawn-soft pink, gold at her wrists and ears, threw him a sad, What can you do? kind of smile.
Hunt, despite himself, added, “But you do look beautiful.”
Her smile gentled, light brown eyes with them. “Thank you. And thank you for coming in on your day off.” She squeezed his hand, her fingers surprisingly clammy. She was truly nervous.
Down the hall, the elevator doors pinged. Celestina’s fingers tightened on Hunt’s before letting go. He could have sworn hers were shaking.
So Hunt said, “It’s no problem at all. I’ll be right here all night. You need to bail, just give me a signal—tug on your earring, maybe—and I’ll make up some excuse.”
Celestina smiled up at him, squaring her shoulders. “You’re a good male, Hunt.”
He wasn’t so sure of that. Wasn’t so sure he hadn’t offered only to make her like him so that when shit hit the fan, if Baxian or the Hind or anyone suggested he and Quinlan were up to anything shady, she’d give him the benefit of the doubt. But he thanked her all the same.
The meeting between Ephraim and Celestina was as stiff and awkward as Hunt had expected.
Ephraim was handsome, as so many of the Archangels were: black hair cut close to his head in a warrior-like fashion, light brown skin that radiated health and vitality, and dark eyes that noted every person in the room, like a soldier assessing a battlefield.
But his smile was genuine as he looked upon Celestina, who strode toward him with outstretched hands.
“My friend,” she said, peering up into his face. As if seeing it for the first time.
Ephraim smiled, white teeth straight and perfect. “My mate.”
She ducked her head right at the moment he went in to kiss her cheek, and Hunt reined in his cringe as Ephraim’s lips met the side of her head. Celestina jolted back, realizing the miscommunication, that people were witnessing this, and—
Isaiah, gods bless him, stepped forward, a fist on his heart. “Your Grace. I welcome you and your triarii.” Ephraim had only brought Sandriel’s triarii with him, Hunt realized. Had left his original members back in Pangera with the Hawk.
Ephraim recovered from the awkward kiss and tucked his blindingly white wings close to his toned, powerful body. “I thank you for your welcome, Commander Tiberian. And hope that your triarii will welcome mine as you so warmly did.”
Hunt at last glanced at the Hind, standing a few feet behind Ephraim, and then at Pollux, staring at her with wolfish intensity from across the room. The Hind’s golden eyes simmered, focused wholly on her lover. As if she were waiting for the go-ahead to jump his bones.
“Yuck,” Naomi muttered, and Hunt suppressed his smile.
Celestina seemed to be searching for something to say, so Hunt spared her and said, “We shall treat your triarii as our brothers and sisters.” The Harpy sneered at the last word. Hunt’s lightning sparked in answer. “For however long they remain here.” For however long I let you live, you fucking psychopath.
Celestina recovered enough to say, “Their alliance shall be only one of the many successes for our mating.”
Ephraim voiced his agreement, even as he raked his stare over his mate once more. Approval shone there, but Celestina … Her throat bobbed.
She’d … been with a male, hadn’t she? Come to think of it, Hunt didn’t even know if she preferred males. Had the Asteri considered that? Would they care what her preferences were, what her experience was, before throwing her into bed with Ephraim?
Baxian’s eyes remained on the Harpy and the Hind, cold and watchful. He didn’t seem particularly pleased to see them.
“I have some refreshments prepared,” Celestina said, gesturing to the tables against the wall of windows. “Come, let us drink to this happy occasion.”
Bryce had just finished telling Ruhn and Ithan what had gone down in the Bone Quarter—both of them looking as sick as Tharion had to hear about the real fate of the dead—when someone knocked on the door.
“So Connor,” Ithan was saying, rubbing his face. “He’s … They fed his soul into the Gate to become firstlight? Secondlight? Whatever.”
Bryce wrung her hands. “It seems like they’d wait until we’re all dust, and even our descendants have forgotten him, but considering how much we pissed off the Under-King, I feel like there’s a chance he might … move Connor up the list.”
“I need to know,” Ithan said. “I need to fucking know.”
Bryce’s throat ached. “I do, too. We’ll try to find out.”