“The Cascade stole your wings.” Raphael’s voice held that edge of cold power that was slowly becoming familiar. “You are determined to push that to the past and move on, but you have a right to your anger.” White fire licked over the arch of his wings, the dancing energy seeming to taunt her.
Turning in his arms, she shoved at his chest. “I can’t even be properly angry at you!” And that made her angry. “I love you too much!”
“I am here, Elena, for your anger and your love both.” He closed his hands over her wrists. “Together. Always.”
“But we can’t now!” The hot ball of lead in her stomach exploded into a conflagration. “I can’t fly with you! I can’t dance with you in the sky, not like before!” Everything had changed and they couldn’t ignore that, not between the two of them. She couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t keep on pretending she was over it.
“When I fed you ambrosia, I didn’t know you would wake as an angel.” His hands tightened on her wrists. “I didn’t even know what it was I tasted in my mouth. I expected to have to face your wrath when you woke as a vampire. Wings do not make you my lover. That has always been your heart, your spirit, your courage—and your fury.”
“But we built a life together in which I could fly beside you. It’s gone now!” No more midnight flights where they played together in the sky. No more tangled wings while they slept.
“Then we build a new life together.”
“What if it’s not like before? What if it’s worse?”
“What if it’s better?”
“Argh! I need you to get angry and fight with me!”
A startled smile on Raphael’s face. It made him look incredibly young. She could’ve never imagined him this way when they’d first met on the Tower roof what felt like a lifetime ago. He’d been so inhuman then, a being of power and cruelty who’d made her close her hand over a blade to prove a point.
Her blood had dropped to crash against the rooftop on which they stood, small brutal paintings.
Now he was her lover and her eternity . . . and he wouldn’t be this man if he hadn’t been so foolish as to fall in love with a mortal.
Hauling down his head, she kissed him hard. Maybe she couldn’t play with him in the skies—and yeah, that would piss her off forever—but she’d fly with him in this way. Their bodies entwined, their hearts beating as one. Because he was hers and she was the only one who could break them. So screw the anger and the self-pity.
Breaking the kiss just as she was really getting going, Raphael gathered her up in his arms and strode out the bathroom door. She slapped his gorgeous shoulders when she realized he was heading toward the balcony doors. “Don’t you dare!” It was freezing out there.
He didn’t stop.
“Raphael! I’m only wearing a camisole and panties.” A new set that fit her thin frame and that she’d had delivered herself because she and Montgomery had an unspoken agreement—he could do what he liked with her wardrobe, but her underwear drawer was off-limits. “I’ll turn into an icicle.”
“Such a lack of faith in my abilities, Elena-mine.” He shook his head, a look of mock sadness on his face; there was no cold in him now, no distance. “Has my glamour ever before let you down?”
She fought not to laugh. “Your glamour is fantastic,” she said in her most adoring tone, fluttering her lashes at the same time. “It’s the best glamour in the world. I still don’t want to be bare-ass naked above New York. Part of me keeps expecting the Cascade to come back for another go.”
Raphael kissed her, and it tasted of angel dust. The special blend created for Elena alone, erotic and luscious and toe-curling. Her nipples tightened to hard little points. “That’s not playing fair,” she breathed against his lips.
“Your taste addicts me,” was the rough-voiced response.
Another slow kiss. “I know you love me,” she said in the aftermath. “I know it was never about wings.” She struggled to explain the feelings tearing at her. “But before, I felt like a partner. Now . . . I’ve never been so weak.” Even as a mortal, she’d been stronger than most—a consequence of being hunter-born. “I’ve never been fragile, not even as a child.”
Unwavering eye contact, the chrome blue alive with lightning. “I could’ve killed you at any point during that time. Ripped you limb from limb without breaking a sweat.”
She sat up in his arms, scowling. “Really, that’s your idea of a pep talk?”
“You have stood your ground against me from the first time we met, when I saw no value in humanity and could’ve crushed you with no thought to what I was destroying. Power and strength have never been what makes us equal, hbeebti.”
The words hit hard.
Her lover was an archangel, one of the Cadre of Ten. The only being that could kill an archangel was another archangel. Elena stood no chance and never had. Yet they’d fought together, flown together, battled the reborn together, sent Lijuan to hell together.
“I feel dumb now.” And light inside, as if the bubbles she’d blown with Maggie were in her veins. “Can we forget this ever happened?”
His smile was dawn on the horizon . . . dawn edged with frost. The sheer violence of his new power cracked his skin with gold when he kissed her. She locked her arms around him and took the ice, took the lightning, took him. And when they hit the night skies above Manhattan, she felt not even a touch of cold, Raphael using his power to both shield them from the world and cocoon her in warmth.
They flew above a city of steel and light and color, and out to the ocean beyond. “I barely have any well-fitting underwear as it is,” she murmured against his mouth when he incinerated her camisole and panties before they could fall into the ocean. “Don’t let this go to your head but you’re so sexy that, right now, I don’t even care.”
The archangel who held her was lethal beyond compare . . . and his smile, it closed its fingers around her heart and made her breath catch. His kiss was raw heat and furious demand, the hand he ran over her body rough with possessiveness and hot with need. One muscled arm kept her locked to him as he squeezed her breast with the other.
Elena’s entire body clenched. She felt no fear, even high above the Atlantic; Raphael would never let her fall. They kissed, touched, tasted, their skin heating from the friction. Breath coming in hard pulses, Raphael said, “Dive?”
“Go.”
He angled them down . . . and folded back his wings, turning himself into an arrow headed toward the water. Elena screamed and laughed . . . then gasped in wonder as they crashed into the ocean encased in a protective shield alive with lightning. Legs wrapped around Raphael as they floated down and down into the fathomless dark, she felt wild and alive and real.