Guild Hunter 02 - Angels' Flight

now, her touch tender and careful over his wing, and he was startled at the realization that she was attempting to comfort him. It was a strange sensation. No one had ever coddled him after he’d snarled at the flitterbies, determined to become tough.
     
    Jessamy would probably not handle snarling well, so he’d bear the gentle petting. “Jessamy?”
     
    “Hmm?”
     
    Fisting his hand in her hair, he tilted back her head. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
     
    As the stars flickered overhead, icy gemstones lit with cold fire, he took her mouth the way he’d wanted to from the first. He demanded entrance and she opened for him, the softnessof her his to ravage. Mystery, that was what Jessamy tasted like. Sweet and dark and with depths it’d take a man an immortal lifetime to explore. Gripping her chin with his free hand, he angled her just as he liked and then he devoured her.
     
    A tiny push, a hint of teeth.
     
    Listening, he gave her a bare instant to breathe before he plundered her mouth again, her sensuality a deliciously slow-burning ember that had her nails digging into his nape, her tongue stroking against his with carnal curiosity.
     
    He groaned and angled his body, the spread of his wings blocking the view of the Refuge as he cupped the gentle curve of her bottom and lifted her up to cradle the hard ridge of his need.
     
    “Galen.” Breathless.
     
    He was moving too fast. But when she rubbed her lips over his, licking out her tongue to taste him, it would’ve taken a stronger man than Galen to resist her.
     
    G alen was unsurprised to find Raphael in the practice salle the next morning, stripped down to wide-legged black pants held up by a thick fabric belt tied at the side. It reminded Galen of the gear worn by Lijuan’s men when they occasionally came to train with Titus’s, the two archangels maintaining a relatively cordial relationship this century.
    He’d worn pants of a durable brown material today, along with his favorite worn-in boots, his sword in its usual position along his spine. Now he removed boots and sword. “Are you going to execute me if I pin you to the floor?”
     
    Raphael’s lips curved at the practical question. “I’m not Uram, Galen. I suppose I’m more like Titus in this—I want men who aren’t too afraid of me to tell me the truth.”
     
    Galen had thought as much. It was why he was here. “Hand to hand, no weapons.”
     
    “Agreed.”
     
    A whisper of blue flickered on the periphery of Galen’s vision as Illium entered, spreading his wings to fly up and perch on a beam. Dmitri was no longer in the Refuge—he’d gone, Galen had realized, to hold Raphael’s territory while thearchangel was here. Jason had also disappeared, having left a message for Galen about which warriors could be trusted with Jessamy’s safety.
     
    Important as she was to him, Galen wouldn’t have placed faith in even Jason’s astute assessments, except that he’d already decided on half the men and women on the list—so he allowed them to watch over her as he saw to his duties. “Yes?”
     
    Raphael gave a single nod.
     
    They met in the middle of the salle, two men with wholly dissimilar fighting styles. Galen was a blunt force who had just enough grace that he could surprise opponents, while Raphael was pure lethal elegance. Unlike when he was fighting with an inexperienced adversary, Galen used his wings, and so did Raphael. It took incredible strength to achieve a short vertical liftoff without exposing vulnerable parts of yourself, but Galen had learned to do it through constant and unrelenting practice. Raphael, meanwhile, seemed to do it instinctively.
     
    Respec for the archangel grew deeper in Galen as Raphael almost brought him down, twisted to block a strike, and recalculated his attack. The archangel was cold-blooded enough to strategize, warrior enough to take pleasure in the dance. Galen had the sudden thought that if this was the truth of who Raphael was beneath the veneer of civilized sophistication, then he wouldn’t only work for the archangel; he might just serve.
     
    Slamming the archangel to the earth, he went to pin him, but Raphael was already gone, having rolled and risen to come at Galen’s back… except Galen was twisting to meet the attack, their arms thrusting up to halt each other, elbows and biceps locked.
     
    “Stalemate!” Illium called out.
     
    Amusement colored Raphael’s expression, though he continued to hold the