Archangel's Storm

feigned, only incites predators.” And the archangels were the alpha predators on the planet. “Neha appreciates those who stand up to her—you have the strength to do so.” She was no more spineless than he was stupid. “You have no reason to play dead.”
    A wash of dark red across her cheekbones, her hands fisting. “Don’t think to know me or my life on the basis of a day’s enforced intimacy, my lord.” Turning away from the garden with those cold words, she led him through a doorway into the cool rooms within the fort, heading downward until he thought they must be on the level that housed the Palace of Jewels.
    They exchanged no further words until she halted by a set of doors decorated with the familiar motif of slender vases, the carvings inset with agate and what looked to be green tourmaline. The doors stood ajar, but the angle meant he and Mahiya were yet concealed from the view of the people within. He took advantage of that to study the room and its inhabitants.
    Spacious and relatively free of furniture, the room opened out onto a wide balcony, sunlight slanting in through there as well as through the tiny squares of the lattice window to the right. The illumination was bright but not hard, gilding the angels and vampires who stood talking and laughing in pairs or small groupings, all dressed in rich fabrics that sparkled and glittered, diamonds like drops of ice in their hair and their ears.
    “Courtiers,” Mahiya said, her tone frigid. “A private brunch where they can display their finery without offence to Neha. I can make the introductions.”
    Refusing the offer with a shake of his head, he walked a few feet to the right—to a door that, as he’d hoped, led directly to a balcony that paralleled the room of courtiers. Even better for his purpose, it was small, unconnected to the wider balcony he’d observed at the end of the room. Walking out, he leaned against the sun-warmed stone beside the lattice window and settled in to listen, darkly conscious of Mahiya’s silent presence by his side.
    As she’d been silent in Neha’s presence.
    His renewed anger at her behavior was visceral, a raw, bubbling thing. After near to seven hundred years of living with memories that had never faded, he knew the cause of his turbulent response, knew his fury was fed by the memory of another woman who hadn’t fought the violence meted out to her.
    “He cannot help it, Jason. A terrible darkness has taken hold of his heart . . . but we can bring him back. We just have to love him.”
    Neha’s treatment of Mahiya was nothing so obvious as a physical blow, but it was as effective a weapon in erasing her personality.
    “. . . rumors he had a lover.”
    Clamping down on his anger, Jason focused on the voices.
    “Ridiculous. Who would chance execution for something as tawdry as sex?”
    “Komal might. You know how angry she has been since Neha banished that vampire she intended to bed.”
    “Komal is a silly girl, but she isn’t suicidal.”
    Jason listened for almost an hour, but heard nothing else as explosive as that short conversation. “Who is Komal?” he asked Mahiya once they were well away from the room.
    “A vampire who has been part of the inner court for half a century. Her beauty is considerable, and she’s adept at using it to manipulate men. I think she doesn’t quite understand that Neha is not as susceptible.” A glance that wasn’t as circumspect as he’d come to expect from her, the frost yet present in the tawny brown depths. “I’ll take you to her if you wish.”
    “Yes.” Jason felt his own simmering anger spark in response, knew she’d sensed it when she jerked away her head and strode the corridor, her demure demeanor forgotten. Though she could not have meant it to do so, the show of temper soothed his own.
    “There she is.” Mahiya indicated a woman walking along one of the open hallways that overlooked the cityscape.
    Komal proved to be exactly as described—a sensual invitation with her raven hair and red lips, honey gold skin and dangerous curves. A woman on whom vampirism had bestowed its exotic kiss, and one who was spoiled to the extent that she pouted when Jason didn’t immediately fall at her feet. “We both know the mouse isn’t going to satisfy you,” she purred with venomous sweetness. “I promise to show you pleasures you’ve never tasted.”
    Jason stared at the hand she’d raised as if to touch him until she paled, dropped it,