“I’ll die, Ellie. I’ll die and you’ll still be alive.”
She tried to wash away the pain that twisted through her heart, but it refused to leave. When her eyes smarted, she told herself she’d gotten some shampoo into them and turned her face into the spray. She couldn’t so easily ignore the knowledge that as the years passed, she’d have to watch wrinkles mark a face that had always been younger, and one day, she’d stand over Beth’s grave.
Unable to bear the thought, she wrenched off the water and stepped out . . . into the arms of an archangel. “I’m wet.” The words were snapped out.
He tugged her water-slick body even closer to his. I feel the echo of your pain, Elena.
Distressed as she was, she knew he could’ve taken the reason for that pain from her mind without her being aware of it, was likely battling the compulsion to do exactly that. “It’s nothing,” she said, the hurt too raw to share. “Nothing new.”
A wave of rain and wind inside her mind, the fury of a leashed storm. Your father again?
“No.” That was all she could say without breaking into a thousand splintered pieces. “I can’t talk about it yet, Raphael.”
A pause, heavy with power.
It was an unintended reminder that the man she called her lover, her consort, was nothing even close to human. Still, she didn’t move away, didn’t raise her guard. That, too, was hard ... but Raphael had held her when she fell, prepared to give up his immortal life for her, a hunter, an unwanted daughter . . . and right now, a hated sister.
The stroke of a big, warm hand on her lower back. “Then we will talk at another time. But we will be talking.”
Feeling her instincts shake off the pain that had gutted her, she raised her head. “I thought we discussed the whole you-giving-me-orders thing?”
Endless, relentless blue. “Did we?” Plush softness around her as he wrapped her in a towel, wings and all. “I had a visitor today.”
“You’re changing the subject.” And he looked so very un-apologetic doing it that she knew she was about to let herself get suckered.
A slow smile. “Lijuan.”
Steel-edged worry wiped away every other emotion. “Again?” Ice crawled up her spine at the memory of the devotion and pain she’d seen on the face of one of the reborn who had loved his mistress, thought, too, of how he’d torn a man apart with his bare hands, until the viscera steamed in the open air.
“I knew she remained in my territory,” Raphael said, “but it was still an unexpected visit.”
Letting him rub at her hair with a second towel while she gripped the first between her br**sts, she touched her fingers to the warmth of his chest. “So? What did she want this time?”
Raphael dropped the other towel to the floor and ran his fingers through the damp strands of her hair, his gaze turning a deep, impenetrable cobalt. “The same—to convince me to murder my mother.”
Still blinking in shock half an hour later as she finished drying her hair and turned to pick up the dress that had appeared on the bed, she stared at Raphael. “We have to find your mother before she does, don’t we?”
“Yes.” Wearing nothing but black dress pants, he leaned against the wall, arms folded, his eyes taking a leisurely tour of her body. “You do not ask the obvious question, Elena. You did not ask after Lijuan’s previous visit, either.”
She’d shrugged off her robe in preparation for putting on the dress—in a brilliant shade of blue, of course—and was wearing only a pair of gossamer panties in mint green, a small white silk flower sitting below one hip. It was clear what her archangel thought of her current state of undress. “I think,” she murmured, “you need to turn up the air-conditioning.”
A slow smile laced with pure seduction. “Come here, Hunter.”
Shaking her head, she picked up the dress and stepped into it. Unlike the gown she’d worn for Lijuan’s ball, this one wasn’t ankle-length but came to a few inches above the knee, the material fitting snugly over her h*ps before flaring out in a playful skirt. The pretty halter neck not only provided adequate support for her br**sts—always a consideration for a hunter—but closed with a glittering crystal button.
She’d never, in a million years, have chosen the dress for herself, but had to admit it looked both elegant and sexy. “What obvious question?” she asked after slipping the button into its hole.
“Whether it would not be better to join with Lijuan to find Caliane, execute her in her Sleep.”
“She’s your mother, Raphael. Of course you can’t destroy her without knowing if she has healed, become sane.” Turning to the vanity, she raised her hair off her neck and twisted it up into a sleek knot Sara had taught her. “Your laws exist for a reason—other angels must’ve come out of the Sleep in better condition than when they went in.”
Looking down to grab a hairpin, she wasn’t ready for the burn of an archangel’s kiss on her nape, the heavy weight of his hands on her hips. “Most of me is convinced she’ll rise as viciously insane as when she went to ground. But—”
“She is your mother.” Elena, more than anyone, understood the opposing emotions that had to be tearing him apart.
“Yes.”
Teeth scraped over her skin, making her shiver. “We’ll be late.”
Stroking up with his hands, he cupped her br**sts. Squeezed. Another kiss on that sensitive spot along the curve of her neck before he drew back. “You are right to remind me, Elena. I owe the Hummingbird my respect.”