Archangel's Storm

she tucked her feet between his boots in an effort to get closer and asked a question she felt too shy to do so out loud.
Is the estate isolated enough that we can dance?
    A fine, fine tremor slivered through Jason’s powerful frame.
No. But I know a place that is.
    Good.
Because she wanted to dance with her spymaster, the sensual erotic dance of angelic lovers that was part courtship, part a test of strength and skill, and—if done right—all pleasure. Never before had she trusted anyone enough to share herself in that way.
I cannot wait to tangle wings with you, Jason.
    Breaking the kiss, a hint of color on his cheekbones, Jason said, “I’ve created accounts in your name and transferred the funds you’ll need to get on your feet.” His tone was stripped of tenderness . . . but he continued to press her against him, his wings curved in protective display around her until all she saw was lush black. “The debt isn’t due until you feel able to repay it, at an interest rate of zero percent.”
    “Jason!” Laughing, she fisted her hands against his chest. “That is the most terrible loan I ever heard of—you will lose on every account.”
    Jason’s expression was solemn. “No, I won’t. Because so long as you owe me a debt, I will have a home.”
    Everything in her went quiet, even her pulse, time itself standing still. “Then,” she whispered in a voice raw with love, “it is a debt I will never repay.”
    Before he’d spoken, before she’d understood the depth of his need, she would’ve insisted on repaying the loan to the last cent as a sign of her independence. Now she knew this wasn’t about money or about controlling her. Jason had had centuries to accumulate wealth. It meant little to him beyond the practical.
    But a home?
    That, he hadn’t had since he buried his mother. Neither had she, the fort no safe haven for her. So she grasped what it meant to him to have a home, understood, too, that he needed the unambiguous link created by the debt.
    One day, she thought, he wouldn’t need that tie any longer, would come to accept he would always be welcome in the place that was
their
home. Then they’d laugh over her long overdue debt, and perhaps she would tease her black-winged angel about having allowed a wet-behind-the-ears princess to tie him to such a terrible deal.
    Until then, she would just love him. “Let’s go home.”

45
    T he estate Jason took her to was a vast sprawl of greenery broken up by wild bursts of color, the house of gray stone set within a multitude of gardens that had been allowed to run wild, the caretakers having far too much to do to wrangle the plants.
    “Oh!” Delighted, she touched her fingers to a dew-kissed amber rose flowering defiantly without regard to season. “This is wonderful!” Already, she could begin to imagine their new life here. “Oh, Jason, the house is perfect.” No massive palace or mansion, just a dual-storied building meant to be a home, the stones warm in the lazy late-afternoon sunshine.
    The caretakers’ residence, created of the same lovely stone, sat at a right angle to the house. “I must see everything!”
    Jason didn’t smile, not so anyone could’ve seen it, but she felt
his joy in the way he followed quiet and unhurried at her back while she explored the gardens. As yet, she didn’t know what she would do with her freedom—though she had a few ideas, excitement bubbling in her veins at the endless possibilities.
    Turning to Jason, she admitted a secret. “I always loved the horses Neha kept.”
    While angels could not comfortably ride horses, they could and did admire the beautiful, strong animals, and kept them not only for the vampires under their command, but as pets and to use in races run against the stables kept by other immortals. Mahiya had studied the subject for many years, because while Neha had taken away the mare she’d called her own, the one thing the archangel had not begrudged her was learning.
    “Maybe, once I’m settled, I could set up some stables.” She’d start small, become a student again. “When I know more, I could try breeding them, but until then, I could offer to care for the horses of those vampires and angels who have no place for their pets in nearby cities.” Immortals could be leery about trusting their horseflesh to mortals, as unfair as that might be. “Do you know of anyone else who offers the same?”
    “No.”
    “Good.” Being a custodian of animals would not be