Angels of Darkness

held the vial level on the sill. It took a bare few moments for the viscous fluid to settle. When it did, it became apparent that it now hovered between the second and third line. He blew out a breath.
    â€œI would that you were wrong, Noel.” Leaving the Midnight in his hands, Nimra walked across the room, her wings trailing on the amber-swirled blue of the carpet. “The fact that the assassin came into my chambers and took this means two things.”
    â€œThe first,” Noel said, placing the vial inside the safe and locking it shut, “is that he or she knew it was here.”
    â€œYes—I can count those who have that knowledge on the fingers of one hand, and not use up my fingers.” A desolate sadness in every word. “The second is that it means no other powerful angel was involved in this. The hatred is theirs alone.”
    Noel didn’t attempt to comfort her, knowing there could be no comfort—not until the truth was unearthed, the would-be murderer’s motives exposed to the light of day. “We need to get an evidence tech in here to see if there are any prints on the vial or the safe that shouldn’t be there.”
    Nimra looked at him as if he were speaking a foreign language. “An evidence tech?”
    â€œIt is the twenty-first century,” he said in a gentle tease, his chest aching at the hurt she would soon have to hide, becoming once more the angel who ruled this territory, ruthless and inhuman. “Such things are possible.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “Laugh at me at your peril.” But she didn’t resist when he tugged her into his arms.
    He ran his hand down her back, over the heavy warmth of her wings. “I can get hold of someone we can trust.”
    â€œTo have such a person come into my home—it’s not something I welcome.” She raised her head, those amazing eyes steely with determination. “But it must be done and soon. Christian has begun to question your presence here beyond that which can be explained by jealousy, and Asirani watches you too closely.”
    Prick or not, Noel had never discounted Christian’s intelligence. The only surprise was that it had taken the male angel this long to wise up—no doubt his feelings for Nimra had clouded his judgment. As for Nimra’s social secretary—“Asirani watches me to make sure I don’t hurt you.”
    Nimra pushed off his chest, her tone remote as she said, “And are you not afraid that I will hurt you?”
    Yes. Compelling and dangerous, she’d forced him awake from the numb state he’d been in since the torture. His emotions were raw, new, acutely vulnerable. “I’m your shield,” he said, rather than exposing the depth of his susceptibility to her. “If that means taking a hit to protect you, I’ll do it without the slightest hesitation.” Because Nimra was what angels of her age and power so often weren’t—strong, with a heart that still beat, a conscience that still functioned.
    She cupped his face, such intensity in her gaze that it was a caress. “I will tell you a secret truth, Noel. No lover has stood for me in all my centuries of existence.”
    It was a punch to the heart. “What about Eitriel?”
    Dropping her hands, she turned her head toward the window. “He is no one.” Her words were final, a silent order from an angel used to obedience.
    Noel had no intention of allowing her to dictate the bounds of their relationship. “This no one,” he said, thrusting his hands into the rich silk of her hair and forcing her to meet his gaze, “walks between us.”
    Nimra made as if to pull away. He held on. Expression dark with annoyance, she said, “You know I could break your hold.”
    â€œYet here we are.”

CHAPTER 9
    H e was impossible, Nimra thought. Such a man would not be any kind of a manageable companion—no, he would demand and push and take liberties beyond what he should. He would most certainly not treat her with the awe due to her rank and age.
    Somewhat to the surprise of the part of her that held centuries of arrogance, the idea enticed rather than repelled. To be challenged, to pit her will against that of this vampire who had been honed in a crucible that would’ve savaged other men beyond redemption, to dance the most ancient of dances . . . Yes.
    â€œEitriel,” she said, “was what a human might