“You’ll fall,” she said to Naasir, petting his hair as she knew he wanted.
“No, I won’t,” he said easily, staying stretched out on the edge. “I came to see you. I never had any brothers or sisters, but I would be angry and sad if something happened to my people . . . like it did to Aodhan once.” Silver eyes held her own. “I’ll fight with you if you want.”
The offer, she knew, was genuine. He’d allow her to cut him up if it would make her feel better. Because she was one of Naasir’s people now. As he was part of her family. Affection had her pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Thank you, but I think I’m okay,” she said through her lingering sorrow at Tanu and Arvi’s loss.
Knowing that they had wanted to go didn’t change the hole in her heart, didn’t make it any less painful to accept the fact that she’d never again witness Tanu’s acerbic wit or hear Arvi’s voice. What did help were the people around her. Like the wild creature in her lap and the hunters who were the family she’d created. They’d stood shoulder to shoulder with her as she laid her siblings to rest, done a thousand small things to make it more bearable.
And Janvier . . . he’d been her rock throughout, solid, protective, and unwavering. She didn’t know how she would continue to function, to exist, if anything ever happened to him, and in that agony of thought, she’d finally understood his own stubborn refusal to stay after she was gone. That didn’t mean she planned to accept it. He had a wild, beautiful, adventurous eternity ahead of him and she’d fight to make sure he claimed it.
“This is a fun party,” Naasir said into the lazy quiet between them, the repetitive motion of stroking the cool silver of his hair having relaxed her as much as it had him. “I think Ellie should be in charge of all immortal parties.”
Ashwini laughed at the idea of Ellie let loose on stuffy angelic balls. “Go have some of that fun,” she urged him, conscious he was returning to Amanat in twenty-four hours. She’d miss him, might have to bag herself a hunt in Japan so she could swing by for a visit. “I saw the pretty little angel with the auburn hair giving you the eye earlier. She’s over there trying to scorch me to a crisp with her mind, if you want to go soothe her feelings.”
“No,” Naasir said definitively. “I want a mate and I’ve decided to go hunting for her. The little angel didn’t smell like her.”
Ashwini felt a twinge of sympathy for all the smitten women he’d be smelling and rejecting until he found his mate. “You realize it can take time? You can’t force it.”
Eyes closing under her continued petting, he made a rumbling sound in his chest. “A mate would do this for me.”
Her lips quirked. “Yes. Or you might do it for her.”
Eyes flicking up, Naasir grinned, his fangs flashing in the light. “Does Janvier pet you?”
She pulled at his nose.
He laughed and, bending one leg at the knee, closed his eyes again, the silver fan of his lashes vivid against the rich brown of his skin, the undertone a gorgeous, warm gold. At that instant, she almost imagined she saw faint stripes underneath. Startled, she stared . . . to see his usual skin. Strokable enough to have women begging to touch him, but otherwise normal for Naasir.
Clearly, Ellie’s “tiger creature” theory was starting to affect her subconscious.
“Where’s Janvier?”
“Catching up with friends.” Those bonds were important to them both. “Why have you suddenly decided you want a mate?”
Naasir stretched lazily before settling back into his previous position. “I’m old enough now, and I want someone to play with like you play with Janvier and Raphael does with Elena. Even Dmitri plays with Honor.” This seemed to fascinate him. “The rules are secret in each game. I want to have secret rules with a woman who . . .” A long pause. “A woman who knows me, understands what I am, and who wants to have secret rules with me.”
It was a very Naasir definition of love and it was wonderful. “I think your mate will be a lucky woman.”
Naasir’s gaze was oddly solemn when he lifted his lashes. “I’m different, Ash. Deep inside. I’ll never be like other men.”
“I’m different, too,” she whispered. “Janvier loves me exactly as I am.” As she did him, stubborn Cajun will or not.
• • •
Elena took a seat beside Izak where the injured angel lay propped up in a bed next to a large window that gave him a great view of the partiers on the roof to the left, as well as of the angels flying back and forth. “I brought you something.” She lifted the saucer holding a piece of cake. “Red velvet with cream cheese icing.”
Izak’s smile was shy. “My arms . . .”
“You have me.” She scooped up a bite of cake, using the fork she’d brought with her, and fed it to him, aware of the fact his body had prioritized the healing of his skull and his spinal cord over broken bones. “So?”
Swallowing, he said, “How did you know it was my favorite?”
“I know everything. I also know Montgomery.”
He laughed, and it was a brilliant sound, the light back in his eyes. “You shouldn’t be taking care of me. I’m going to be in your Guard.”
“Who made that rule?” Feeding him another small bite, she said, “Way I hear it from Hannah—who, as you pointed out in your pitch, already has a Guard and is thus an expert—while my Guard is meant to be my shield if necessary, I’m also meant to ensure they have what they need. Right now, you need cake.”