Guild Hunter 02 - Angels' Flight

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. Expressi dark with annoyance, she said, “You know I could break your hold.”
     
    “Yet here we are.”
     

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.
     
    “Eitriel,” she said, “was what a human might call my husband.” Angels did not marry as mortals did, did not bind one another with such ties. “We knew one another close to three hundred and forty years.”
     
    Noel’s scowl was black thunder. “That hardly makes him ‘no one.’”
     
    “I was two hundred when we met—”
     
    “A baby,” Noel interrupted, hands tightening in her curls. “Angels aren’t even allowed to leave the Refuge until reaching a hundred years of age.”
     
    She raised an eyebrow. “Do release my hair, Noel.”
     
    He unflexed his hands at once. “I’m sorry.” Gentle fingers stroking over her scalp. “Bloody uncivilized of me.”
     
    Unexpected, that he made her want to smile, when she was about to expose the most horrific period of her life. “We are both aware you will never be Christian.”
     
    His eyes gleamed. “Now who’s walking a dangerous road?”
     
    Lips curving, she said, “Not a baby, no, but a very young woman.” Because of their long life spans, angels matured slower than mortals. However, by two hundred, she’d had the form and face of a woman, had begun to spread her wings, gain a better understanding of who she would one day become.
     
    “Eitriel was my mentor at the start. I studied under him as he taught me what it was to be an angel who might one day rule, though I didn’t realize that at the time.” It was only later that she’d understood Raphael had seen her burgeoning strength, taken steps to make sure she had the correct training.
     
    Noel’s hand curved over her nape, hot and rough. “You fell in love with your teacher.”
     
    The memories threatened to roll over her in a crushing wave, but it wasn’t the echo of her former lover that caused her chest to fill with such pain as no woman, mortal or immortal, should ever have to experience. “Yes, but not until later, when such a relationship was permissible. I was four hundred