Archangel’s Enigma (Guild Hunter #8)(74)
Author: Nalini Singh

She sat up in bed, eyes wide. “Maybe what the explorer saw wasn’t lava at all, but molten metal—Caliane says Alexander had a strong affinity to it.”

Silver eyes gleamed at her. Moving without warning, Naasir grabbed one of her arms and hauled her across his chest.

“Naasir!”

“To get to the metal-lava chasm,” he said, totally ignoring her frown and holding her flush to the hard heat of his chest with one arm around her waist, “we’ll have to infiltrate Favashi’s territory.”

Propping up her chin on her hands, the feel of his heart beating under her a deep pleasure, she surrendered to the indulgence of being so close to him. “You can sneak in anywhere. I’m the problem.” She made a face.

“I need you.” Blunt words that fell like a gift over her. “You carry knowledge about Alexander that could cause us to change our path midway.”

“Yes.” Her theory was based on historical records and instinct. There was no predicting the actuality. “I wouldn’t let you go alone anyway. It’s dangerous.”

A slow smile that turned into a growl that made her skin go tight and her blood turn to honey. “That stupid Grimoire book.” Gripping her chin, he bared his teeth at her. “I haven’t forgotten your promise. I get to do anything I want to you after I find it.”

Andromeda couldn’t breathe. “Anything you want,” she whispered, her voice husky and her breasts so swollen they ached. “Touching, licking, biting . . . anything.”

The smile returned and this time it was so primal she knew that should he ever take her, he’d own her. Every inch, every drop, everything.

26

Illium flew over New York with a buoyant spirit. Jason and Naasir were both out of harm’s way at present, and he’d spoken to his mother. Thanks to Raphael’s call on the heels of his own, the Hummingbird had accepted an invitation to come to New York.

He was determined the anniversary wouldn’t be so bad this year. He’d keep her too busy to think about what she’d left behind in the Refuge. Busy and happy enough that she wouldn’t want to return quickly to her painful, soul-shredding vigil.

Seeing the shattered light of Aodhan’s wings not far off in the afternoon sky, he smiled and angled up toward his friend. His mother loved Aodhan, and Illium knew Aodhan returned the affection. He’d spend hours with her if that was what she needed.

“Your mother has a great capacity to love,” Aodhan had said to him once.

It was true—and it was also the Hummingbird’s greatest weakness.

Putting two fingers between his teeth as he reached Aodhan’s altitude, he whistled.

Aodhan glanced over, the faint smile on his face deeply welcome after two painful centuries when Illium hadn’t been able to reach his friend, no matter how hard he tried. Aodhan’s psychic scars might never fade, but he was rising past them in a show of grit and strength no one who didn’t know what had been done to him could fully understand.

The twenty-three months Aodhan had been missing had been the most horrific period of Illium’s life . . . worse than when he’d lost his mortal lover. He’d survived losing her. He didn’t know if he could survive losing Aodhan.

Never before had he seen that truth so clearly and it shook him.

“What’s wrong?” Aodhan called out from his position on Illium’s left, their wingtips almost touching.

Illium went to shake his head, staggered by his realization and not ready to discuss it, when it felt as if his heart literally exploded from the inside out. The pain was excruciating.

Wings crumpling, he felt himself fall.

He’d played this trick a thousand times, pretending to plummet out-of-control from the sky, his wings tangled. Aodhan had stopped falling for it centuries ago, and, mind red with pain, Illium had no way to signal to him that this wasn’t a trick. The high-rises of Manhattan rushed up at him at terminal velocity. Should the impact separate his head from his spine, his brain and internal organs pulverized, he wouldn’t survive.

Not ready to die, and piercingly conscious the wound of his death would permanently break both his mother and Aodhan, he tried to stretch out his wings. A new blast of agonizing pain flooded his mouth with blood . . . and switched off the light on his consciousness.

*   *   *

Aodhan saw Illium’s expression change right before his wings crumpled. So many times Illium had tricked him, but his instincts screamed this was no trick. Not stopping to think, he folded in his own wings and dropped like a stone toward Illium’s rapidly diminishing form, those beautiful wings of silver-blue hanging uselessly as Illium tumbled toward metal and glass and concrete at deadly speed.