Angels Dance

school.” With that, he spread his wings and rose into the sky, a creature of pure, raw power . . . one who hunted those who would’ve silenced her in the cruelest fashion.
    A rustle of wings.
    Wrenching her attention from the now empty sky, she said, “I’ve kept a new book for you,” to Jason, this angel who was another one of those she hadn’t taught—he had simply appeared in the Refuge one day as a boy full-grown.
    Jessamy had never asked Jason what his life had been before he arrived in the Refuge, but she knew it had scarred him, damaging his emotional growth to the extent that he had trouble forming bonds of attachment. There was a piercing loneliness in him that resonated with her own, but the enigmatic angel kept his distance even from the women who would’ve lain with him given the slightest encouragement, preferring to court the shadows.
    “Thank you.” The light glanced off the shine of the hair he wore to just above his shoulders, the ebony strands cut in layers that shadowed the clean lines of his face and the swirling mystery of the dramatic tattoo that covered the left-hand side. “The vampire who attacked you has been tracked to Alexander’s court. His people deny all knowledge of the male’s actions.”
    “What is your opinion?” she asked, because Jason—in spite of his scars, or perhaps because of them—had a way of seeing through to the heart of things, not blinded by prejudice or emotion. In many ways, he was Galen’s opposite, as subtle and cunning as Galen was blunt and direct.
    “I know when to retreat, when to lull my opponent into a false sense of security . . . and when to launch a final, victorious strike.”
    She’d told him not to waste his efforts on her, but deep in the most secret part of her lay a small, reckless voice that wanted him to push, to pursue, to force his way through the defensive barriers she’d put in his path. Dangerous, it would be heartbreakingly dangerous to give in to him in any way, but to be so wanted , it might be worth the agony to come.
    “I think,” Jason said, his voice sliding into her consciousness like dark smoke, “that Alexander’s court tells the truth in this. He has his stable of assassins. Even the worst of them is ten times better than the vampire Galen executed.”
    “Raphael knows to be careful?” As the keeper of their histories, Jessamy should have been a neutral party in the looming war, but she had a soft spot in her heart for the youngest of the archangels. He’d had such a delighted laugh as a boy . . . at least until his father’s inexorable madness, and his mother’s terrible decision—to end the life of the mate she loved with every breath in her body.
    Even when it became clear at a very young age that his power far outstripped her own, Raphael had always, always , treated her with respect. Though he, too, was changing. Perhaps it was inevitable, the cold arrogance that came with that much power. Each time he returned to the Refuge, she saw less of the boy he’d been, and more of the lethal creature who was one of the Cadre.
    “Dmitri,” Jason said in response to her question, “has made certain no spies are able to get in close enough to cause concern.”
    “And you have ensured Raphael has his own spies in Alexander’s court.”
    Jason kept his silence on the point, his face—marked by the haunting curves and lines of a tattoo he’d never explained, and that could be either a tribute or a reminder created in exquisite pain—remaining unchanged in expression, but she’d known him too long to be fooled.
    Holding her gaze, he said, “Galen has no wife, no lover, has made no promises to another.”
    She’d long ago stopped being startled at how Jason knew what he knew, but his words made her breath catch, her heartbeat accelerate. “Am I so transparent?” she asked, feeling vulnerable, exposed.
    “No.” A pause. “But Galen has made his claim patent.”
    * * *
    S troking his finger over the creamy feather touched with the faintest hint of blush that he’d stolen, Galen considered what he’d learned about the dead vampire’s loyalties from Dmitri. Alexander was unlikely to be involved, but someone in his court had a bone to grind with Jessamy. The problem, of course, was that Alexander’s territory was vast, his court a sprawling hive. It wouldn’t be easy to narrow down the target—but Jessamy was safe, would remain protected so long as it was necessary.
    Galen didn’t