"It's okay, Ellie." A big hand stroking over her head. Tears in that deep voice. "There's no more pain where they are now."
Ari and Bellehad appeared at peace in spite of the way their lives had ended, their eyes closed in rest, their bodies looking whole beneath the white sheets. Elena had pressed her lips to each cold cheek, patted their hair, and said good-bye. They'd stayed beside the bodies for over an hour until . . .
"Okay, Daddy." She slipped her hand into his, looking up at the man who'd always been the strongest pillar in her universe. "We can go now."
Moisture glittered in that pale grey gaze that had always been so firm, so strong.
"Yeah?"
"Don't cry." Reaching up as he bent down, she wiped away those tears. "They're not hurting anymore."
Elena staggered into a side corridor, her hand shaking as she braced herself. She'd always believed she'd lost her father the day it all ended in blood, but she'd been wrong.
He'd still been her father that afternoon at the hospital, still been a man willing to fight for his daughter's right to say good-bye.
When had it all gone wrong? When had her father begun to treat her as an abhorrence he couldn't stand to look at? And how many more memories had she buried?
"Elena?"
Turning, she found herself face-to-face with Keir, his expression careful. "Would you - "
But Elena was already shaking her head. "I'm sorry, but I have to go." She almost ran to the waiting room, taking the hidden stairs to the top level. Her wings dragged on the steps designed for vampires, but she made it up and out into the icy air without being stopped by anyone else.
The wind was a cold slap against her overheated cheeks, the fresh air a welcome balm. "I don't want to remember." A cowardly thought, but she wasn't strong enough to bear the knowledge hanging heavy on the edge of her horizon. Because it was bad. Worse than anything else. And she was already struggling to survive the memories.
A cough from her left. "I'd ask if you were stargazing, but it's only five."
Her back went stiff. What had she said? Anyone but Galen. "Venom."
Chapter 21
The vampire was wearing his signature black sunglasses, his lips holding a familiar mocking edge. "At your service."
She realized he had to have left New York as soon as Dmitri arrived. "Do vampires suffer from jet lag?"
Venom removed his sunglasses, giving her the full impact of those eyes slitted like a snake's. It didn't matter that she'd seen them before - her skin still crawled in visceral shock, a gut-deep response to the alien intelligence in those eyes. Part of her wondered if it was only his eyes that had been changed when he was Made - did Venom think like a human, or was his intellect a far more cold- blooded thing?
"Offering to soothe my aches, hunter?" the vampire said, flicking his tongue over one long incisor and coming away with a golden droplet full of poison. "I'm touched."
"Just being friendly," she said, matching snark for snark.
Venom's pupils contracted the instant before he slid his sunglasses back on.
She couldn't help it. "Why isn't your tongue forked?"
"Why can't you fly?" A smirk. "Those things on your back aren't accessories you know."
She gave him the finger, but part of her was glad for his annoying presence. He'd pulled her firmly into the present, the past locked in that cupboard where she preferred to keep it the majority of the time. "Aren't you supposed to act as my guide?"
He waved a hand. "Follow me, milady."
Despite his words, they walked side by side as he led her to Raphael's main office, something she hadn't even known existed until then. "What's the mood like in Manhattan?" She'd spoken to both Sara and Ransom about it, but a vampire's take on things, especially a vampire as strong as Venom, was likely to be different from a human's.
Of course, Venom didn't give her any kind of a straight answer. "People are starting to believe the rumors of your resurrection were greatly exaggerated. Most think you're dead and buried somewhere. So sad."
She ignored the deliberate provocation. "The truth still hasn't gotten out? I know Raphael's people wouldn't tell, but the others? Michaela?"
"All jealous. Raphael's the first archangel in living memory to have Made an angel." A glance at her from those mirrored frames that showed her nothing but her own face floating in darkness. "You're a unique prize. Be careful you don't get bagged and put up on some wall."
Raphael was sitting behind a huge black desk when she walked in, Venom having left her at the door. Deja vu hit her with relentless force. He had a desk like that in his Tower, too.
"If I were to splay you out on my desk and thrust my fingers into you right now, I think I'd find different."
Raphael looked up at that instant, his eyes smoldering with an unequivocally sexual heat that said he knew exactly what she was thinking. Holding that gaze, she closed the door and walked to him with slow, intent steps. Instead of stopping when she reached the granite, she jumped up and, sweeping the papers out of her way, swung her legs over the other side, spreading them to bracket him in between.
The archangel put his hands on her thighs. "Again you come to me with nightmares in your eyes."
"Yes," she said, pushing her hands through his hair. "I come to you." It was a trust she'd given no one else.
He squeezed her thighs, pulling her closer with an effortless strength that made her heart race. The Archangel of New York was in a dangerous mood today. Bending down as he lifted up his head, she kissed him. Her dominant position lasted a bare second. A subtle shift in his hold and he had her in his lap, her legs on either side of his, the damp heat between her thighs pressed to the rigid line of his cock.